Yukichi Fukuzawa

A disciplinary man in the streets can be the most vile creature behind closed doors. He's not the worst, but shame burns under his arousal any time Fukuzawa scrolls through the 'school uniform' tag on that day's pornography site. Shame and just create a feedback loop that pulls him closer and closer with every senseless moan and exaggerated expression.

So close, he got, that he now stared at a phone number on his computer screen.

Sex calls. Or, whatever the official name was. It slipped his mind as he slowly pressed the numbers into his mobile. 081 045 6645...

Why was he doing this? What possessed him?

The last few days he's been doing nothing but indulge the sick part of him that craves to shape the naivety of youth. Consuming pornography with clueless faces and short school skirts. Sensei and senpai filled every other sentence as if to remind him he was a pervert seeking someone much younger than himself. It started with Ranpo, a feeling he's harbored for years but managed to hide under discipline and principles.

’Call your school girl now!’ it said with big bright letters on the advert. Fukuzawa stiffened at the call rang over. Once. Twice.

He's a man in his forties, sitting in impeccable traditional clothing, never once having touched a woman or man with lustrous intent.

Thank you for connecting to— Fukuzawa snapped out of his thoughts as he was finally connected. Press 1 to speak with a female representative. Press 2 to speak with a male representative. Press 3 to speak with either representative.

The man clicked before he could regret it, jaw clenched tight as he fought for his composure. You will be connected shortly, thank you for your cooperation. The automated voice cut off abruptly, sending him into a jarring silence.

“I... God, forgive me,” he closed his eyes just a second, kneeled with formidable posture. Training had been ingrained into him like sand into rocks, steady and unshakable. Even now, in his moments of resignation.

The internet was as wonderful as it is unpleasant, Fukuzawa often found it moved too fast and left him disorientated without comfort. Even now, he felt like he was awaiting the guillotine.

Just when Fukuzawa thought he was waiting on a spectre, the line went through. Oh. Oh dear. Oh dear God. His eyes flew open, staring at the 00:01, 00:02, 00:03 counting upwards on his screen.

“Hello?” He called out hesitantly, unsure whether to relax or tense up now he was talking to a real person. “I normally don't do such sort of things, do forgive me.”

Fukuzawa felt his cock stir beneath his yukuta, betraying his hidden excitement. “I find myself... unfamiliar with the protocols here.” he placed his hand over his crotch, trying to focus.