There is also the male version, Nantaimori (Japanese: 男体盛り) refers to the same practice using a male model. Perhaps the use a “nasu” or eggplant for the man’s “centerpiece”? Japanese eggplants are very… erotic.
This genre of food play is originally a Japanese practice that has attracted international media attention. A few online searches have led to some restaurants and parties where beautiful naked women are used as platters for the sushi presentation.
“Before becoming a living sushi platter, the person (usually a woman) is trained to lie down for hours without moving. She or he must also be able to withstand the prolonged exposure to the cold food. Before service, the individual is supposed to have taken a bath using a special fragrance-free soap and then finished off with a splash of cold water to cool the body down somewhat for the sushi. In some parts of the world, in order to comply with sanitation laws, there must be a layer of plastic or other material between the sushi and the body of the woman or man.”
—Jack Herbert, Nyotaimori (Body sushi), Japan for the Uninvited
There are Nyotaimori specialists, such as Chef Mark “The Naked Sushi King” based in Wilmington, North Carolina— quote from his website:
“When it comes to providing the extraordinary and exotic in naked sushi, no one surpasses Chef Mark aka the Naked Sushi King. Considered one of the true innovators of the art of Nyotaimori in the USA, Chef Mark, the Naked Sushi King, excels at providing unique and distinctive presentations which honor the traditions of the Japanese heritage.
Nyotaimori is the art of naked body sushi. Our dedication and knowledge of Nyotaimori, body sushi makes it safe, fun, and different. While we are based in coastal Wilmington, North Carolina, we are one of the only upscale sushi catering services that can travel to any location worldwide to put on an exclusive event or provide VIP types of services as your very own personal sushi chef.”
It was many years ago, before I knew about any of this that I had fantasized about Japanese men eating sushi off of my naked body. Had I known I could become a “nyotaimori model” I would have done it in a heartbeat. I suppose I still can find a way, and write about it? Ah, the adventure…
My fantasies were more involved than just holding still— I imagined an erotic scene with the heat of mouths, the slide of tongues, tasting, licking, eating off of my skin. Several Japanese men, perhaps some very handsome, some a little older but still attractive, enjoying themselves by eating sushi and sashimi off of my body. Also, “eating” my most erotic places. You can only guess.
This fantasy is still something I dream of. Rather than an elaborate banquet platter for a large party, I’d be a dinner plate for an intimate table of 3. Two men and a woman, perhaps?
Also, there is Wakame Sake or Wakamezake わかめ酒, another erotic food/drink practice is wakame sake, poured down a woman’s body and drunk from the “cup” of her closed thighs. The name “wakame“, means ‘soft seaweed’.
My darling is a Japanese native. When I ask him about “Nyotaimori,” I get a mumbled “hhmph?” and a sly smile. but he says nothing.
Here then, are some links and articles I had to search and find on my own, in fumbled romaji (English alphabet):
Some older news articles:
A similar “food fetish” is expressed in Seijun Suzuki’s 1967 film Branded to Kill, protagonist Goro Hanada (Joe Shishido) has a food fetish in which he must sniff boiling rice in order to become sexually aroused or enthusiastic about his life and career as a hitman.
Wikipedia Nyotaimori references and links:
NYOTAIMORI VIDEO ON YOU TUBE
NAKED SUSHI VIDEO
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It was snowing in Kyoto. I was walking all the way to my Master’s house, carrying my koto close to my chest, facing the falling snow. The tiny snowflakes touched my face like light kisses. It was a pleasant feeling. I hadn’t noticed how cold I was while the little flakes were touching my face. It was a game I was playing with myself while walking, a distraction, to ignore the rest of my body being so cold. My tabi socks were becoming damp with every step, as my geta were not high enough to manage the snowy walk.
Over many years of visits, I became more relaxed while alone with Master Genji. I was becoming older, and had already had my mizu-age. I found that I could choose the men that I found attractive, and create an idea in my mind of what they might be like to make love with. I held their face in my memory, and fantasized about them later when I was alone in my bed. Master Genji was quite handsome. He was a tall man, with a slight build, and a bright, intelligent face. His body exuded a quiet strength, much like a beautiful river. When he was very near, to help me with my koto strings, he had the soft fragrance of tea. There was another, more masculine scent mingled with the scent of tea. It was a compelling scent, to be near him. Master Genji was older than most of my other teachers. However, he was still young looking, at the age of fourty-six.
“Your face, it’s so pink Koyuki-chan,” Master Genji exclaimed. “let me warm you, here, you’ve got snowflakes all over your face.” His large, slender hands brushed the icy flakes from my cheeks, eyebrows, and lips. This was surprising, as I had never felt a man so casually touch my face before. He immediately grabbed me solidly by my shoulders, and hurried me into the center of the house, near the hibachi. The room was deliciously warm, glowing with heat. Master Genji was dressed in his usual attire; an indigo dyed yukata, which complimented his ivory-colored skin. After he brought me close to the hibachi, he went into another room and fetched a different kimono.
It must be his wife’s kimono, I realized.
In his hands were dry tabi, and a cloth. He took my koto, which I found myself clutching still, as I was very chilled. Master Genji brushed my face with the cloth. “Koyuki-chan, I am sorry, forgive me, but the house maids are not here today, and my wife has gone to visit a friend in Nara.” He looked apologetic, and a little embarrassed. He brushed off the snow gently. He sat me down near the blazing hot hibachi, and slowly, began to remove my tabi sock from my left foot. He stopped. He was nervous. His hands were shaking.
“Forgive me, Koyuki-chan, please…” as he cautiously removed my tabi, revealing my bare foot. The heat of his hands on my bare skin felt like nothing I had ever felt before. His smooth palms felt like the softest silk, contrasting with the rough tips of his callused fingers, from constant koto playing. I gasped, from the touch of our skin. His hands pulled away. “Oh, so sorry Koyuki-chan, I only want you to be warm.” He was sweating, damp on his forehead. His face looked like a teenage boy’s, an amazed look of wonderment. “If you don’t want me to remove your tabi, but, you see, they are wet with snow, and…”
“Genji-sensei, I don’t mind. Please,” and I guided his shaking hands back to my bare foot. He caressed my toes with the movement, putting on the dry tabi. My big toe was cozy inside the warm, dry sock, then the other toes followed, encased in the fabric. He finished pulling the sock up to my ankle, as both of his hands lifted, the motion causing his fingers to graze my leg while administering the sock. He then removed my other tabi sock, and replaced it again with a dry tabi.
“I will now have to help you into this kimono, Koyuki-chan,” he stammered. “We cannot allow you to stay in your damp kimono, or you will become ill.” My koto was placed near the sitting area by the fire. I remembered Master Genji’s fine hands helping me place my own fingers upon the strings. He was a caring teacher. All of our lessons were leading to this moment, I felt, and suddenly I realized what the older geisha were discussing about men. This was what they called desire.
“Yes, Genji-sensei,” I answered, allowing him to undress me. He was as hesitant as my first patron, Yujiro. I remembered the sensation of being completely naked in front of a man, as Master Genji removed my obi, and then the many layers of my kimono, unraveling. Not wanting to upset Master Genji, I closed my eyes while he undressed me. I could only hear his breath. His warm hands, barely touched my belly as he unwrapped the layers of fabric. His breath went silent. Only his palm was firm against my body, unmoving. Soon after, he began breathing quickly, as I was waiting for the dry kimono. I simply stood there in the warm room, waiting, naked. His fingers, so skilled with musical instruments, traced my body. I felt his fingers, drawing along my body. I kept my eyes closed. I allowed him to touch me. His fingers, gently, traced along my collarbone, down my arms. He held my wrist, down to my hands. His large hand enveloped mine, slipped away. With his other hand, he lifted my arm, and put the dry kimono sleeve on. Half on, the kimono fabric was hanging with its heavy weight of silk down my bare back. My nipples were hardening. Master Genji traced my breasts, lightly, and touched, drawing a circle around the bud of my left nipple.
His mouth, suddenly.
The heat of his mouth was near my breast. It sent shivers throughout my body, and the tiny hairs along my skin stood on end. He traced my other breast with his fingers. He lifted my other arm into the sleeve. The kimono fabric clothed my back and arms, with my breasts and stomach, legs, exposed, fully bare. Master Genji was quiet again. His breathing stopped. He led my hand to his yukata, and I felt the heat of his arousal. His penis was so stiff, incredibly hard, like a large flute. The indigo fabric he wore was covering his male desire.
We said nothing.
The most surprising thing happened. Master Genji touched the most delicate part of my body. My eyes still closed, I could only feel his fingers, with the slightest pressure, upon my sex. He circled my clitoris with the faintest touch. His free hand delighted along my bare skin. I felt his rhythms, playing my body like an instrument. My mouth flowering apart, I heard from my breast, a sound coming out. It was like sighing. My heart was beating faster, quickening. My clitoris was alive with all sensations, as Master Genji circled it as light as the feathery flutter of a bird’s wings, as sweetly as he touched the strings of his koto. My voice was uncontrollable. His long fingers penetrated me, plunging inside of my wetness, an oyster-like slippery sensation from within my sex. My clitoris was so sensitive, as Master Genji’s fingers deftly played my sexual place. Struck by some intense emotion, he gathered me up into his arms, and brought me into his sleeping area. My eyes opened for a moment. I saw a different Genji. He quickly unrolled his futon mat on the tatami as if it were putting out a fire lit deep in his body. This was no longer the gentle Master Genji I knew as my teacher, but some demon spirit inside of him.
“Spread your legs, Koyuki-chan, please.” He demanded. I was surprised by his urgency and command. Only had I heard such a voice come from him when I hadn’t practiced enough, and made too many clumsy mistakes while playing my koto.
I did as Master Genji asked me to do.
His hands were ready to make me sing, like his koto. He slid two fingers inside of me, while his other hand circled my clitoris again. Every once in awhile, Master Genji’s mouth would wet my clitoris, and it was a great discovery to realize this part of my body. I made deep resonant sounds while his slender fingers curved and bowed into my sex. The pressure and rhythm he used, brought my body closer to the most blissful feeling I have ever experienced. I sighed, my eyes fluttering, unopened. To open my eyes would break the spell. Every limb and part of my body vibrating with pleasure, as I felt wave upon wave of rising wave, wild rippling sensations dancing through me that I had never known before.
It seemed that my body was full of music, nothing but deep and beautiful sounds rising into the air, singing as a bird, calling into the winter sky. Slowly my whole body was but an instrument of love, and Master Genji, with his magical fingers, played me, with hands that knew every sound I could create. Oh, and deep within, at the deepest part of my being, from the center of my softest place, as his fingers delved deeper, touching and tickling, circling, the more my voice cried out with the strange sounds, notes, the song of my pleasure. The unknown within me was revealed, in a shivering ripple, a vibrato of a string, my deepest and highest octaves.
As I found the courage to open my eyes, Master Genji was looking upon me with great tenderness. Something tremendous had begun. I was no longer the young girl that walked into the house of Master Genji. I was, suddenly, on a snowy afternoon, a woman.
]]> https://eroticadujour.com/little-snowrough-draft-of-my-edo-period-erotica/feed/ 3You wake me,
Part my thighs, and kiss me.
I give you the dew
Of the first morning of the world.
~ Marichiko
Spring Solstice, Dream, 6:30 am
Labor had begun, and I was remembering all the other births of each of my three children. As I was walking around the room, feeling each wave of pain rise and subside, I was thinking about sex. How like me to think about sex when about to give birth.
This dream makes me think about the similarity between orgasm, first time sexual anticipation, and birth. All are wondrous, magical moments, but you just don’t know until you get there. You can’t imagine what the next orgasm will be like. It might build, rising like a wave, and perhaps it fills your entire body with exquisite sensations. Or it might be less than you thought it would be. Or, you might feel a sudden, overwhelming full body orgasm. The first time you ever had sex, the anticipation, and the wonder. The same with birth; you could have had three or four children, but each time, it’s different. You cannot know until that moment.
The dream I just woke from was wild, fertile and just the sort of dream that happens on a full moon during the Spring Solstice. I’ve been preparing for the birth of Erotica du Jour for nine months, and the due date has been set for March 21, 2011. The Spring Solstice. It is also a Full Moon. The fullest moon we have had in 18 years. Erotica du Jour. She’s been a little seed in my mind, growing, and I’ve been setting up her room and picking out her clothes. Little Erotica du Jour is almost ready. But I won’t know what she will look like until the moment she comes into existence.
In my dream, the doctor was naked, and so was I… he was massaging me and giving me acupuncture. It was a sensual ritual: the doctor was smoking pot, lighting incense, and having all the others in our birthing group light a stick of incense as moxa, and stick the acupuncture incense “moxa” into my scalp. Lighting my intellectual fire, perhaps? How crazy is that?
The stoned, sensual doctor looked like my sexy Japanese husband at times, and then, as dreams shape shift, he was sitting behind me, caressing my hips and giving me more acupuncture, he looked just like my sex crush, chef Ming Tsai. Sigh. I was becoming really aroused by his hands.
The ultrasound reading showed that baby Erotica du Jour was still not ready. She had her head positioned for birth, but she’s still got some time yet. The doctor announced March 25th as new her due date. Well, we will just announce her birth today, so you can anticipate a sexy new arrival to the Internet.
The idea behind this journal was to exhibit erotica in all forms. Venus, emerging from the sea of sensuality, her naked beauty born from sea foam (semen) and the womb of the ocean, is coming out into the world on a sea shell (vagina). Here she is.
Erotica du Jour is a journal of sex and sensuality. Eventually it will develop into a creative, bohemian collective of artists, writers, photographers, and filmmakers of erotic expression. I want it to be truly sensual, real and poetically rich in spirit.
I will be adding in my own erotica writing and poetry, while I select those special writers, poets, photographers, and artists of many facets, to come and join our circle of Erotica du Jour.
Spring is early this year.
Laurels, plums, peaches,
Almonds, mimosa,
All bloom at once. Under the
Moon, night smells like your body.
~ Marichiko
Erotic. The word comes from the ancient Greek god of love, Eros.
“Eros” is mentioned in the Iliad by Homer. He embodied love and desire. The son of Aphrodite (goddess of love, beauty, and fertility), Eros was also known as Cupid to the Romans.
You approaching me
With the smell
Of fresh cut
Morning grass:
My nipples turn hard.
~ Yuko Kawano
Erotica evokes all the senses. The sound of the word conjures up an aphrodisiac cocktail of the mind; filled with memories, scents, visuals, sounds, and sensations.
If I were to create this magical cocktail for a lover, it would first start with reading him an erotic story. While reading, he would hear my voice, sultry, soft, and feminine. Listening to my words he would then visualize the story. The scent of pheromones, my voice, his imagination, and …the art of erotica would emerge like a genie out of the bottle.
My dream...
In celebration of the beginning of Spring, my dreams have been full of fertile awareness (such as my dream last night, on the eve of the Spring solstice, of being pregnant) and so… the Japanese festival that just passed on March 15th in celebration of fertility is called Honen Matsuri 豊年祭 “Harvest Festival” in Komaki, Japan.
This festival is one that I must attend. It looks like so much fun. Thankfully, I have a Japanese husband to take me along on this wonderfully phallic journey through a parade of penises. Although, he likes to take me on his own private journey through his own private celebration…
And I always love to celebrate the amazing penis. Although, honestly, size does not matter to me. I just love the idea of huge penises being paraded around town. We really should celebrate this way more often. There’s got to be a festival, past or present, for the celebration of the vagina. (My next research opportunity).
Back to sexy Japanese penis parading. So, during Honen Matsuri, a parade of huge phalluses goes through the town, with Shinto priests playing musical instruments, lots of sake for celebratory drinking, and a 620 pound, 96 inch long wooden penis. The wooden phallus is carried from a shrine, and rice is thrown (the symbol of semen) to bless all with prosperity and fertility.
Here is more on the Honen Matsuri festival : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C5%8Dnen_Matsuri
And great photos : http://www.japan-photo.de/e-frucht.htm
It’s truly a dream to imagine being surrounded with monumental penises and Japanese men who parade them through the town. Better if the men carrying the penises were all naked and erect as well, but I’d be quite happy nonetheless to watch this exciting festival.
Next year I hope to be there and… write about it. Of course, photos are a must.
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