|The story below is originally published on Mainichi Daily News by Mainichi Shinbun (http://mdn.mainichi.jp).|
|They admitted inventing its kinky features, or rather deliberately mistranslating them from the original gossip magazine.|
|In fact, this is far from the general Japanese' behavior or sense of worth.|
In 2005, Japan's Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare pronounced that roughly one middle-aged person in two was at risk for so-called "metabolic syndrome" -- caused by smoking, drinking, eating and other excesses combined with a sedentary lifestyle -- that raised the likelihood of cardiovascular disease, diabetes and strokes.
The ministry's policy now obliges people between the ages of 40 to 74 to take medical examinations to check for excessive internal fat, high blood pressure and high blood-sugar levels, and to receive health advisories when warranted.
As it's been said before, "There's gold in them thar ills.
" So it took little nudging from the government for certain businesses, including manufacturers of pharmaceuticals, exercise products and bathroom scales, to hop aboard the metabolic bandwagon.
In the past two years, it has become a multibillion yen windfall.
So naturally it was bound to happen.
The middle-aged spread, reports Asahi Geino (4/24), has given rise to a completely new type of sex business: the "Datsu-metabo fuuzoku" -- sex shops with services designed to help pudgy, middle-aged men bang their way back to health and enjoy themselves in the bargain.
Asahi Geino identifies five such shops with special health sessions on their menus, three in Tokyo and two in Osaka.
Their names, telephone numbers, prices and the details of their services, starting from as little as 8,000 yen, are included.
"We have designed our play sessions to provide beneficial effects, not only on blood sugar levels and triglycerides, but on your gamma GPT as well," according to the lovely Ms. Kazuki, age 23, who works at a massage shop in Tokyo's Sugamo district called Mania Space.
"If she can get my fatty liver back in shape, she'll deserve a Nobel Prize," Asahi Geino's reporter remarks, tongue in cheek.
After disrobing he lies facing down on the massage table. Powdering his back and lower torso, she then suddenly slips a finger into his anus.
"Oooooh!" he exclaims.
The intrusive digit is followed by a larger object that turns out to be a battery-powered vibrator. Despite himself, the stimulation to our reporter's prostate causes him to develop a whopper of an erection.
She then orders him to lie on his back and pull his thighs against to his chest, in the same position a woman would assume when a man mounts her.
She then grasps his erection and coaxes out a few drops of discharge.
This was just the preamble, however, and after oiling up his shaft with lotion she artfully manipulates his scrotum -- while the vibrator in his anus continues to hum -- giving him the mother of all erections.
"Wow, look at that. Would you like me to take a commemorative photo?" she asks impudently.
She then squats over his face and, leaning forward over him, tickles his body with her nipples and sets to work with her hands until he feels the urge to spring a gusher.
But she slacks off at the last second and repeats this process -- of sensual stimulation halting just before the point of orgasm -- until he begs for release.
"What is this supposed to be good for, anyway?" he pants to Kazuki.
"If you don't do it long enough you won't get the full benefits of aerobic exercise," she advises him.
"If you can hang on for a full hour, you can lose 3 centimeters off your tummy."
But after about 20 dashes to the edge of his orgasmic abyss, our reporter was more than ready to take the leap.
As he issues pathetic moans, she cajoles his vas deferens into discharging a jet of jism that jumps past his pectorals and reaches all the way to his chin.
"If that didn't reduce my blood sugar level," he thinks to himself afterwards, "then nothing will."
"Some of my customers can hang on for an entire 240-minute course," Kazuki informs him.
These stop-and-go sessions might be just what the doctor ordered, Asahi Geino's reporter thinks, but who can afford four hours of frantic fisting -- let alone flaunt such fantastic fortitude? (By Masuo Kamiyama, contributing writer)