Playing Ping Pong With My Prostitute

I'm back in Japan. With another wealthy patron. Making a Documentary.

Fucked another prostitute last night in Tokyo. I’m not proud of it, but I will tell you about it if you want to know. I’m here for a few weeks with a guy who found my blog and reached out with an offer to make a documentary about me. He said he’d pay for my flights, housing, and basically everything else as long as we’re here. I said hell yeah, sign me up. I didn’t ask what the documentary would be about, if there was any thesis, I just saw a free trip to Japan with a rich guy and I took it. He too is an anonymous internet sex-adjacent content creator, just in a much more profitable industry. He’s an OnlyFans manager who also owns an agency. He goes by “Faceless Francis.”

Turns out we’re making a documentary on sex tourism and with yours truly as the star, so on our second night here we bought prostitutes. He had me find and select the brothel.

I chose a place called “RoboDeli,” which is not a futuristic sandwich shop but a whorehouse where the girls LARP as robots, programmed to respond to your commands, with customizable personalities, built for your pleasure. It’s a hot concept, and I wasn't paying, so I felt compelled to give it a try.

Most of these brothels are effectively the same thing: you pick a girl from a lineup online and then you click a link which opens a WhatsApp chat connecting you directly to customer service at the agency, where you say I want This Girl at This Time at This Hotel with These Extras and my name is Johnny Thompson and my Japanese ability is Low and I would like the girl for 2 hours, thanks. And they say The total comes to 56,000 yen ($350 USD)! Is it okay to proceed? Yes. Your reservation is confirmed, thank you. Please bring cash. They just trust you, it’s that kind of culture.

Here’s why RoboDeli caught my eye, why it’s different: they’ve got this graphic explaining their ‘Robot Index,’ which means you can set the girl’s level of autism before you meet. You can set her to ‘speak or not to speak’ before ‘playing.’ You can set her to only have the ‘minimum necessary conversation’ and apparently she will commit to the bit. You can also set the ‘aggressiveness’ — at Level 1 she will not touch you unless you explicitly command it. At level 3 she will not stop touching you unless you explicitly command it, or physically shake her off.

This is a great concept. I have fucked ~12-15 prostitutes so far in my short sad life and so it was exciting, refreshing to look forward to something new. Francis and I made our booking online earlier in the day, around 2 PM, which felt kind of gay but look this is for science, for art, for posterity, and at the end of the day Pussy is pussy—so we made our reservation in advance like responsible adults and went about the rest of our day in Tokyo.

Unfortunately there is no in-call available for this brothel, which really boggles my mind because in my head you could run such an epic operation like this, pay some especially talented girls to commit fully to the robot bit from the moment the customer shows, into the private room and out the door. You could have the men who run the logistics stay behind closed doors, you could have kiosks, you could have funky chiptune vidya music playing throughout, this concept was made for a comprehensive in-call experience. But sadly no, like most of these brothels—they send the girl to you.

The apartment Francis and I share in Tokyo is not huge. There are two floors and it is quite nice, by Tokyo housing standards, but our rooms are rather close together and only separated by a wood sliding closet door. And so rather than invite the girls over at once and listen to each other fuck through the walls he decided to get us each separate rooms at a Love Hotel. Love Hotels are seedy hotels downtown where you can book a room by the hour, so you can fuck your prostitute and immediately GTFO back home to your wife and kids for dinner. After eating ramen and taking a quick trip to Uniqlo Francis and I found a Love Hotel suitable for our purposes—The Hotel Bali Resort in Shinjuku.

The Hotel Bali Resort was not purely a love hotel — there were also kids there. As soon as we stepped in to the tropically themed lobby we heard the sounds of screaming children and just ignored it. Francis booked each of us separate rooms for 2 hours and asked the staff if he could get in early to set up his camera equipment to ‘film in there.’ I respect the audacity. He also asked the booking agency if he could film with the girl, how much that would cost extra as an add-on. They said 20k yen and that’s like $100 and he’s pretty well-off and so it was marginal. I couldn’t believe he got yeses from both the agency and the love hotel. You can just fuck prostitutes in Tokyo and film it? Why is everyone on earth with money not doing this? This is why I will never have real money probably, this line of thinking.

Francis and I indulged in the amenities immediately. There were free snacks and tea in the lobby. Massage chairs with no coin slots. Fat men and their prostitutes waltzed in and out and up the elevators like it was normal. Just stepping right over the little European kids on vacation with their parents. At 8 PM Francis told me: “have fun, see you at 11” and slunk off. I just smiled: What is my life.

The girl I chose was named May. She was listed as 22, which means she was probably closer to 26. But she was tall, for the available cast — 168 cm, 5’5. The average girl on there was 5’0, 5’1, which I didn’t catch until I made the cm->feet conversion in my head. I’ve been craving taller more athletic girls this year for some reason, so against my better judgment I went with a more ‘experienced’ girl as opposed to the fresh off the slave ship 18 year old good girl gone bad I would normally choose when I have options. May was described as ‘versatile,’ the staff’s top pick, packed with every man’s dream! ‘E cups,’ which means Cs. She looked like a girl named Hannah I fucked in 2022, catastrophically, destroying the longest relationship she ever had. Hannah was 6 ft tall half japanese and had a heart of gold. I was evil and horny. She had either only had sex once or never at all when I fucked her, she was unbelievably tight with a perfect body and the sex was against both our better judgment so obviously it was some of the best I ever had. May looks kind of like that girl, at least in the pictures online.

In the first moment I saw her I scowled. I will never pick a girl from an online lineup with the bottom half of her face blurred ever again, I resolved in that moment. But then I saw her body and was less disappointed. She did resemble Hannah, and she was dressed not in standard hooker shit but grey sweatpant shorts and a grey hoodie crop top. The result was that she looked like an ostensibly normal girl. Her English was not there, I could feel it from the very first moment. But that’s fine, I have given up on making a real connection with one of these girls anyway.

Instead of having sex I asked her if she was good at ping pong. She didn’t understand. Ping… Pong? I made a motion with my hands like a seal. Ping pong. Game. Play? I gave up on Engrish and pulled out the translate app. Do you want to go play ping pong? She laughed and said yes, OK, Ping pong.

So we went downstairs to play ping pong. This hotel has all sorts of shit — saunas and game rooms and various lounges with bread and coffee and tea, and thank god: free wine. I had slurped a couple cups before she came to ready myself for the experience. On the way down to the B1 floor to play ping pong with my prostie we stopped in a lounge for wine. I filled up a cup and she followed. I was impressed and grateful she followed, because I am sure these girls are not supposed to drink on the job. But I am a leader alpha male and so she just followed my lead.

Unfortunately she was not good at ping pong. She did the thing where she hits it down instead of from the side. I don’t know what I expected. I think the hopeful racist in me felt that she’s asian, and all asians are good at ping pong, and so this should be fun.

She was not good but honestly it was still pretty fun. There were no kids down there, which felt like a big win right off the bat. She got better as the game went on, and seemed to be having a lot of fun herself. Laughing crazily at the whole situation. She made cute little anime sounds when she hit the ball: ya! hua! I was laughing hard too, sometimes getting too distracted by her body to return the ball. A part of me only indulged in this for the quirk-factor, but also I knew that the sex would be better if we made some kind of human connection first, shared a laugh, went somewhere besides the bedroom for our first meeting—i am a professional after all. After maybe 10 ecstatic minutes of this I started touching her and brought her upstairs. She spoke very little English but it was fine, I’m used to leading most girls around like dogs anyway.

We went back up to the room and she gave me a bath. The shower room had a jacuzzi shaped like a turtle shell. She made me wash my mouth out with mouthwash, which I minded just a little. I distinctly remember before we showered that I did not love her smell. She had the Asian smell — vaguely of copper, pennies. Her hair smelled fine but something else, her skin, offended my western airways on initial contact which just made me sigh again. This factor feels like RNG: you never really know if you’re going to like her natural scent. I wonder if my aversion to hers means she felt a similar way about mine.

The shower/bath was a little awkward besides the fact that I got hard rubbing my soaped up dick against her body. She became motherly. We filled the tub with epsom salts and started kissing pointlessly for several minutes until I couldn’t take it any more and lifted her up out of there. We finally toweled off and stepped into the huge room. My backpack and laptop and clothes I bought at Uniqlo were all strewn about because I had been here before she arrived. I fumbled with my phone, trying to press record in some way, either for myself or for the fans back home. I started a Space on twitter but couldn’t get the mic to work while drunk while she’s laying 5 feet away and I bet if she were to notice what I was doing (naming my twitter space ‘Fucking an Autistic Robot Prostitute’) she would become very slippery and possibly just leave, no longer trusting me. So I just aborted that and moved to Enjoy Sex.

She went right for the blowjob and it was perhaps the best one I’ve ever had. No condom, nom nom nom, mmm, I felt myself going fffuuuuuu, uffff, thinking that perhaps the wine has numbed me just enough to not feel the pain I usually do—or she’s just a pro. Prob the latter, she is literally a pro. I lasted for maybe 9 minutes of that before the familiar internal nut-negotiations began: Okay if I came right now into her mouth would I get to go again? Is it worth it? Or should I put an end to this and just fuck her for real? The wiser more experienced man in me won out: I grabbed her face like a soccer ball and took her off me—Stoppu. I used my phone to tell her that you were going to make me cum, sorry. She giggled. I asked condom? Do you have condom? She said yes. That is a word she knows.

For some reason I didn’t mind the condom in this case. She had just no ass at all so I fucked her in missionary. I remembered the robot shit from earlier which was supposed to make this experience somehow different: I said I want Robot Level 1. Expressionless. Translate saved me again. I made a blank face and took my palm and swiped it down in front of me to hopefully communicate this: I don’t want you to react visually to this sex, if you can help it, okay? She said OK and that she did.

This is a new “kink” I have developed in the past 6 months: when I’m with a girl and I’m fucking her I want her to try as hard as she can not to react. Up until now I’ve called it the “straight face game” and I first played it with a girl with such high pain tolerance I could slap her ass with all my grown man strength and fail to produce even a whimper. I suggested that when we fuck, we should see who can go further without visually reacting, as an exercise in mindfulness. It ended up being really fun, finding out who would be the first one to break. I know all this shit is pointless and retarded but so is life and you’ve got to have fun, I think, which is why I’m here recreating that relatively memorable sex with May tonight. Trying to get my money’s worth despite her chipmunk face, trying to come out of this experience with knowledge, something useful.

May was extremely good at not reacting to my sex. I was humbled. I thought I was fucking her well, the couple drinks had numbed me enough that I wasn’t cumming instantly like a fucking retard, I was applying some real pressure and kissing her on the lips and the most of a reaction I could detect was that she sometimes gripped the sheets with her fingers. I smiled at that, because it was obviously involuntary, and grabbed her hands so that she couldn’t do it any more. I did the thing where I press her thighs together around me in missionary and finished.

Usually I would only have an hour with a whore like this because I’m a cheapskate but Francis isn’t and so today I had two. I didn’t have to think very hard about what to do after I came, I just wrapped my arm around her and rested my head on her chest and fell asleep.

The post-fuck nap is the best part of sex by far. I felt regret that I couldn’t have this every day, because of the way I choose to live my life. I don’t know if she fell asleep too or if she just laid awake staring up at the ceiling for an hour. It didn’t matter. We didn’t even take the condom off. I woke up at 10:45, 15 mins before our time was done, to feel her getting up off the bed to wash herself off. I deliberated for a moment: should I get a picture of her naked with my book. For marketing. I decided no, I have enough of those. Instead at 10:50 I took my phone back out to ask can you jerk me off again? one more time quickly? With no hesitation she said Oh. Yes. Easy! I smiled. Easy.

So we did it all again, this time in the span of three, four minutes. On her stomach this time, somehow the fact that she had “no ass at all” did not stop that from feeling extremely good too. She had another condom, she came prepared. I thought I came into it until I pulled out, took a look at myself, and realized that at some point it had come off. Whoops. I vaguely registered the idea of “STDs” in my head for half a second until i remembered who I am. We washed off quickly again, utilizing every minute of time, and went downstairs to the lobby so that I could check out and return my key. It became difficult to look at her, talk to her, as we went up to the counter and I handed the little gremlin my card and took May outside and gave her a hug and we parted ways. I said I would give her a 5 star review, because she played ping pong with me, but she probably didn’t understand. It doesn’t matter anyways, I’ll never see her again.

Francis got an extra hour with his girl, because apparently she had arrived 30 mins late and was giving a very insightful interview. I remembered that he’s here for work and I’m here for reasons unknown. He texted me that she was “surprisingly articulate” which made me feel significantly jealous, imagining he rolled a girl who somehow speaks immaculate English yet still ended up a prostitute at Robo Delivery Health in Shinjuku. This was not the case… he did the whole interview in speech-to-text-to-translate-to-audio using his laptop and ChatGPT. So she was “surprisingly articulate” … in Japanese, which makes more sense.

My walk to Family Mart felt like a post sex cigarette. I felt different in the store than I usually would. I was no longer so cautious/aware of all the girls there in their tight shirts and short skirts with their clean perfect hair and their schlubby boyfriends — I felt a sort of post-fuck-IDGAF glow. I bought a pork bun and a sweet pastry. I strolled through Shinjuku aimlessly staring into space wondering what is the point of my life. Soon I got another text from Francis, that he was done. We met back up outside the hotel. He asked about my experience but I didn’t want to talk about it, not because it was bad but because I feel like talking about this stuff before writing it down somehow dampens it. Anything I say in the moments after would be lies anyway—I don’t really know what I think until I sleep on it.

Francis had never been with a prostitute before and so he didn’t know you could fuck her. He said did you fuck yours? I said obviously… that’s the whole point. His point was greater. He said she came in and started touching him/stroking his dick immediately which just felt “sad” and so he just turned it to conversation on-camera instead. He used ChatGPT to translate what she was saying in real time which apparently made for a very solid and natural feeling interview. He said when she first showed up she seemed nervous, scared, which makes sense because Faceless Francis looks like Joe Rogan but with an aggressively full vest of chest hair because he’s blasting TRT in his mid 30s. But also she had cut marks on her wrists, and bruises, and apparently the affect was just not sexy at all. She was listed as 18 but, of course, was more like 22 and had been doing sex work since she was 16. He asked how she feels when she’s doing this — does she feel like an object, she said “it’s more like, i’m a tool.” I smiled on the subway listening. He said after an hour of interview he decided: ‘actually I want to nut’ and so she sucked his dick to completion. He didn’t get any of the robot cosplay shit either, which we had agreed earlier was the main selling point of this brothel. We should buy this place out and do it right, I didn’t say to him but now feel in my heart.

We took a couple trains from Shinjuku to Sumida where our Airbnb is and showered separately and fell asleep. I read Delicious Tacos in my bed alone, wishing May was there to fall asleep with me again. I’m finally appreciating “Savage Spear of the Unicorn” 3/4ths of the way in, remembering why I started writing about sex in the first place. This subject never gets old.

P.S. If you have any recommendations for things to do in Japan, related or unrelated to fucking whores, I am all ears. I have a few more days in Tokyo and then ~2 weeks in Osaka.