So if you guys don't know what an onsen (温泉) is, it's basically a Japanese hot spring bath. Yes, there’s nudity, but apparently it’s a super normal and respectful part of Japanese culture. So when I was on my recent trip, I was determined to embrace it. And as a solo traveller I had no friends with me to be embarrassed in front of!

At least, that’s what I thought.

The moment I walked into the onsen, the nerves hit. The receptionist handed me a towel that was so tiny it barely qualified as one. It was more of a washcloth, really. This is fine, I told myself. Everyone’s naked. Nobody will care. Especially not about a foreigner…

Clutching my washcloth to my chest, I tried to blend in as I headed to the bathing area. The layout was open, with low stools for rinsing off before entering the baths. I found an empty spot, sat down, and started washing myself. The warm water felt soothing, but I couldn’t shake my self-consciousness. Maybe it was my own insecurities but I felt like people were looking, like my pale skin, large breasts, and shaven pussy made me a neon sign screaming for attention.

With trembling legs, I made my way to the bathing area. The space was beautiful—open and steamy, with large pools surrounded by smooth stone and greenery. It was serene, but all I could think about was how exposed I felt.

I found a small corner to rinse myself, trying to blend in. As the warm water ran over my body, I felt my tension ease, just a little. But then I noticed a group of male attendants moving through the pools. Their uniforms marked them as staff, and I realized they were offering akasuri—a traditional body scrub performed in the water. When one of the men caught my eye and smiled, gesturing toward a shallow section of the pool, I froze.

He said something I didn’t understand but his meaning was clear: he was inviting me to try the service. My first instinct was to refuse—being touched by a stranger while naked felt overwhelming. But his smile was kind, and something about his calm demeanor reassured me. Before I knew it, I was nodding and following him to the edge of the pool.

The attendant motioned for me to sit on a smooth stone ledge submerged in waist-deep water. The bath’s warmth enveloped me, soothing and slightly dizzying. He handed me a small wooden bucket, pouring warm water over my shoulders to help me relax. His touch was professional but deliberate, his hands firm as they guided me to recline against the stone.

I thought it would just be him, but as he started to work, a second man approached. My pulse quickened as they exchanged a few words in Japanese. The first man gestured for the second to join, and suddenly, I had two pairs of hands on me, scrubbing my arms and shoulders with exfoliating mitts. I looked down at my body to see my large breasts rocking backward and forward on my chest, the mound of my pussy visible between them.

It was too much. Too embarrassing. I closed my eyes again.

They were professionals, I reminded myself, scrubbing away dead skin with practiced ease. I tried to relax as they moved lower, scrubbing my thighs and calves. I thought of how my pussy must have looked, being stretched and pulled by their movements, my cheeks burning as I again realized how exposed I was.

Then, a third man joined. He stepped into the pool, his presence making the small space feel even more intimate. My breath hitched as he knelt beside me, taking over the task of scrubbing my legs while the others worked on my arms and back. Their hands moved in unison, creating a symphony of sensations that left me feeling dizzy and overwhelmed.

When the fourth man arrived, I thought I might faint. He didn’t hesitate, leaning over me and beginning to massage my shoulders for a moment before stopping. There seemed to be a small moment of deliberation between the men, none of which I understood, of course, and then they all changed places.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but when I felt the new guy’s hands on my breasts I bit my lip to suppress a yelp. This was normal, I reminded myself again. And it did feel nice to have so much attention lavished on me. I closed my eyes, the new guy’s hands moving over my skin with firm, deliberate strokes, the rough texture of the mitts grazing my nipples and sending jolts of heat through my body.

I tried to stay still, but my body betrayed me. My nipples hardened, and I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly. The man at my chest exchanged a glance with the one scrubbing my thighs, and I swore I saw the flicker of a knowing smile. They spoke softly to each other in Japanese, their voices low and melodic.

And then, before I knew it, the man scrubbing my thighs gently parted them, his hands moving closer and closer to my most sensitive areas. The water swirled around me, and I could feel every stroke of the mitts, every brush of their fingers. The fourth man poured warm water over my chest, his hands smoothing over my skin as the soap rinsed away. I shivered despite the heat.

I could no longer bring myself to look at any of them—the way their hands moved more slowly when they touched certain places was too much. They must have known what they were doing to me, my body beginning to tremble and my lips beginning to part. I realized I was clenching and unclenching my pussy, desperate for further sensation, a small moan escaping my mouth.

That’s when I felt something warm pressing against my lips…