In the eastern part of Toyama Prefecture is the small fishing village of Uotsu. And in this humble collection of some 40,000 souls can be found a friendly pink salon that goes by the name “Shirayuki Hime” (Snow White).
According to “Guts” Nekota, a storyteller inside Jitsuwa Knuckles (January), this shop’s been in business for a long time, and apparently belongs to a chain with several affiliates also located in the same prefecture.
An outlay of 7,700 yen entitles the customer to oral sex successively dispensed by three hostesses, a service referred to as “three flower petals in a row.”
Upon arrival, Nekota is greeted by an employee clad in black, who asks him, “Do you have a favorite?” Since the hostesses were all long in the tooth in any case, he declined to designate one, and they were all summoned to the entry and lined up for inspection — five of them in total. None were young: there was a chubby one, a dreadfully plain one, one who looked like she’d been previously employed in a pachinko parlor and one on the short side.
“If this place is Snow White, then these gals must have been chomping on the poisoned apple,” thinks Nekota. “Come to think of it, instead of Snow White they’re more like the Seven Dwarfs.”
The first, the plain one, had previously worked as a cashier at a nearby supermarket. She went down on his crotch without touching him, using her mouth alone. Unfortunately this failed to get a response from Nekota’s not-so-virile member.
The first fellator was replaced by a middle-aged lady who stood less than 150 cm in her stocking feet and was plump. She synched her sucks with the beat of the Euro music being wafted through the shop.
At this point Nekota noticed the greeter in black had begun chanting some strange incantation on the microphone.
Typically around five minutes before a shop’s closing time, someone will announce it over the PA system. Frequently the words ichatte, ichatte (I’m coming, I’m coming) will be spoken — perhaps to urge customers to hurry up — but in this particular shop, instead was a mysterious incantation that went, “Enio’o-nio’o-meo’oha!”
“What the hell does that mean?” Nekota asked one of the girls. She had no explanation.
The third assault on Nekota’s pork sword was mounted by a middle-aged woman who was thin to the point of looking emaciated.
So up to this point he’d been serviced to no avail by Grannie, Tiny Tubby and Skinny.
“Enio’o-nio’o-meo’oha!” went the man at the mike. Nekota remained flaccid.
“Oh gosh, it looks like we’re not meant for each other,” the woman sighed, with a disappointed expression. She’d really tried hard, but he’d failed to get hard.
Nekota comes to the conclusion that grown men should know better than to believe in fairy tales.
“I felt like I’d taken a step toward growing up,” he cracks. (K.S.)
Source: “Deep Walker” Jitsuwa Knuckles (January, page 45)
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