A/N: This is my second attempt at writing this series. If you want to read my first attempt at this series, you can do so in the volume labeled One-Shot Volume. If you enjoy what you read, please leave a comment so I'll know for sure people are actually reading my stories to the end, lol. With that out of the way, please enjoy this definitive version:
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"I'm very thankful to be on this show!" Please let this be quick... "As you may know, my name is Kazumi Nagataro." At least, that's the name I prefer... "And today, I present to you: the fourth volume of I Can't Believe My Step-Sister Is This Good At Beating Me In Smash!"
This work, like many of my others, is produced from the inner-imagination of my mentally-disturbed mind. Well, not like anybody cares about that... As long as they read something that gets them feeling tingly in the genitals, I've completed my job either way.
The audience in front of me claps as I raise the volume above my head like it's the second coming. I lower the volume and place it in my lap, not only to hide the possible erection that may be caused by the attractive idols standing backstage, but also to direct the audience's attention to the host.
"How is it that you write so fast? Many authors like yourself would take years to reach the same resume you have. Not to mention, you focus on more than one series at the same time!" the host says. He practically has stars in his eyes.
"Well, as you know, I have a very popular saying. And that is: I have a lot of time!"
I wag my index finger at the audience as they laugh at my catchphrase. What they don't know, the catchphrase is actually the truth. I really do have a lot of time, and it's quite sad honestly...
"Of course, you do! Either way, you have created a big name for yourself in the short time the world has known you. You've practically become a household name in the world of otakus alike. Tell me, what is it like to have such a big following at such an early part of your successful career? Is there any words you would like to share with your fans"
"I don't have a specific answer to properly express my gratitude to my closest followers." Yes I do: You have allowed me to make enough to not give any shits. And I love you all for that. "But, what I can say. The experience has been very surreal, nonetheless!"
"Well, you heard it here. Be sure to visit your local bookstore or otaku hangout to pick up Kazumi Nagataro's latest volume. Thank you so much for being with us!"
"Thank you so much for having me!"
I bow towards the host and towards the audience. It's a miracle I was able to drink enough alcohol ahead of time to even have the confidence to stand on this stage, on live television nonetheless! That's what happens when you illustrate erotica while masturbating at three in the morning. You wake up at your usual time of five in the afternoon and rush getting ready. No matter how many times this has happened to me, I don't regret making the same mistake.
The red light on the camera indicates filming has concluded and the broadcast has switched over to the next programming. I immediately flip my forced smile upside down, not that anyone can notice from under my face mask. Don't be mistaken. Japan is not under a pandemic or anything, at least not anymore. The harsh reality is, I can't walk outside my apartment wearing my real face in public. To me, wearing a mask aids me in that social anxiety of mine. Also, what sense would it be to have a pen name and still show your real face in public?
The group of schoolgirl-themed idol hostess' appear from backstage to undress the host from his seat. Not undress as in a sexual sense, but taking off his fancy bow-tie, sports jacket, and glasses, only to replace them with lesser but still fancy versions of the same accessories. One of them approaches me from my seat and takes off my mic clip. Her soft, warm hands touch all the way from my collarbone to my lower waist as she follows the long cord leading to the audio receptor in my side pocket. As she does so, another idol appears behind me and rubs my shoulders. Each second their hands are on my body, the more their warmness seems to blend into my skin and make me want to melt at my core. I've never had much intimacy from girls, so these physical feelings are very unorthodox in my body's programming. I press the paperback volume tightly towards my crotch to prevent my erection from being seen.
If only I had this high popularity a couple years back. Those cursed high school days... It's a little too late in my life to complain about not having the high school harem of my dreams though...
"All right! You're set to go!" says the idol who rubbed her soft and warm hands over my shoulders.
The two idols disappear and I make my way out the studio. My leather business bag hanging off my shoulder, I call a taxi and arrive at the editing department; the company where my editor works. The elevator takes me up to one of the higher levels on the building. Getting off the elevator, I make my way to my editor's cubicle.
I freeze at the sight of a peachy ass trying to break free from a tight-ended skirt, the skirt of which is far from being knee-high like most company wardrobe regulations. Although the shiny and bare legs also acts as eye-candy alone, the peachy ass is enough to make my eyes hypnotized as it wiggles from side-to-side. I can see pantylines, too! The owner of that peachy ass in question, my editor Yoko-Sensei, stands on the tip of her heels trying to set a box on a high surface. At least, a surface even someone with my five foot six height can still reach. I appear behind her and grab the box out of her hands.
"Ah!" she startles. She turns around, her E-Cup breast turning as well and pressing deep into my chest. "Oh! It's you!" she says with a smile and blush on her face.
"Hi, Sensei. I just got back from my TV appearance."
"I saw on the TV in the break room! You did really good!" She passionately stares up at me with the sparkling purple iris in her eyes, all while her breasts are still pressed into my chest. Not that I'm complaining, it's still interesting to know Sensei doesn't even recognize her own bust size. At least, not recognize them enough so to have an embarrassing reaction I expected her to have. I wonder if she could feel my pounding hearbeat. I'm surprised it's not audible at this point. At least my erection hasn't gone out far enough to touch her. "You always surprise me at the right times, you know that?" Sensei says while walking off, her breasts grazing pass my chest and arm as she does so.
She sits in front of her work desk. Another chair is set in front of the desk, and an extra chair is set closely next to her. That chair has always been reserved to be mine. She insisted I'd start sitting next to her the more and more meetings we had.
I'm not crazy for thinking this, but I belief she has a crush on me. Sensei's limited reaction to her boobs making contact with me. Sensei wanting me to sit closely next to her. Along with the fact that our whole work relationship seems to be the opposite of what it is. Meaning, it seems like I'm the editor and, thus, her superior. It's not just because I'm one year older than her at age twenty-two, but it's also because I end up giving Sensei more advice and trivia than even her. With Sensei also being an open fan of my work, it seems like all I ever receive is praise and not that much criticism, not that I'm complaining. Not only does it show my strengths as a writer, but it's always nice to hear such nice words coming from a cute and attractive woman as her.
"Well? Are you going to sit down are what?" she says with her head low, a blush covering her face and her fingers fidgeting with one another. She's undeniably cute, that's for sure! Her shyness and timidness only magnifies that. Her unawareness to her cuteness just magnifies that even further! I love it! I sit down and face Sensei, her face becoming more and more blushed yet inviting and enduring at the same time. "Like I said, you seem to surprise me at the right times."
"What's going on at the office this time?"
"Oh, you know. The typical stuff..." She has a soft voice, so I lean in to hear her. I'm inches away from her soft, delicate face. "My coworkers seem to never do their jobs right. Every single day, I always have to juggle my responsibilities along with coming to their rescue every time they need help. It's so annoying it's not even funny!"
It's because she's so damn cute! This editing department is well-known for some of the best manga and light novels to ever come out in the past decade, so there are some competent editors working here. It's just that Sensei's cute factor is what makes the office naturally want to be around her more. Speaking for the guys, if I were in there shoes, I could see myself asking for help even if I don't need it. Anything just to gaze upon her face, and also her boobs, torso, ass, thighs, and legs. Her whole body in general.
"Hopefully, what I have for you will distract you from that." I reach into my bag and take out chapter manuscripts varying from more than one series of mine. The same applies for character designs sheets and in-between illustrations. Sensei's eyes light up and her hands come together as I set everything on the table.
"Wow, Sensei! Sorry, I mean Naga-san..." It seems like she may think the same way towards our work relationship. "You always come to amaze!" That's what she said. "Just skimming through these pages makes my erotic senses flush up!" She's right about that. Sensei's face is beet red, her voice shakes, her breathing is heavy, even her movements are involuntarily moving in a way that rubs together her breast. If anything, her body is subconsciously expressing those erotic senses. "I love these new wardrobe designs! You have very good fashion sense when it comes to your heroines!"
"Oh, it's not that much. I just did my research from fashion magazines, is all."
"Imagine all the erotic scenarios you could write with these skirts and blouses. I'm already starting to make my own predictions as we speak!" Sensei is also unfiltered when it comes to openly discussing these erotic topics such as clothes, scenarios, etc. Call it part of job, but it's still refreshing nonetheless to have a woman openly engage in sexual conversations like this. "I still find myself reading the virgin-killing sweater arc from your other series. The way you describe their legs rubbing together! Mixed with the girls' embarrassment, it creates a whole new pleasure for them! It's simplistic, yet the descriptions are so ecstatic! It just makes you want to jump into the pages and join them!"
As she speaks, her thighs involuntarily rub together, driven by her own words describing the act in my story. She moves her legs from under the table and rests her heels on the edge of her chair. Her thighs continue to rub, this time her knees constantly bump against the surface of her breast. Her knees dig more and more into her breast as she gets more into it.
"Don't forget when their nipples begin reacting to the fabric of the sweater!"
"Yes! How can I forget about that! Their boobs were so free yet so tense at the same time! That mix feeling can make any woman go mad!" Her breasts begin swaying side-by-side as well. This is what I was trying to do. By bringing attention to the breast, her sensitive pressure points are now working together in unison. After so many of these meetings, I really understood the psychology of turning on Sensei, in an erotic manner of course. As Sensei skims through more pages and looks upon more artwork, sweat begins appearing on her skin. Her breathing is more heavier as well. I can feel each warm, moist breath being blown onto my face. It's even fogging up my glasses! I try to look up her tight skirt, but I'm met with nothing but darkness. It doesn't matter, I'm still enjoying all the other aspects from this scenario just fine enough. About eight seconds later, Sensei's legs return under her desk and her breasts seems to stretch out once her knees have been removed. "Let's celebrate!" She cheerfully looks up at me.
"Celebrate how?"
"How else but drinking?"
"I thought you'd learn your lesson the last time you drank. You're body is too small to handle even a bottle of alcohol."
"I feel confident this time!" Her timidness begins to show again. "At least... I think so..." She looks up at me. "Don't you believe in me, Naga-san..."
It's like I've been transported to a new dimension. A dimension made up of only her and a soft, warm background that surrounds us. "Of course I do."
She smiles cheekily at me with her trademark blush. "All right, then. Let's go!" She jumps from her seat and walks out her cubicle like a little kid going on a field trip. I hurry up to walk by her side. Sensei's shoulder-length hair bounces as she walks, coincide with her breast. "Bye, everyone!" All her male co-workers stick their heads out to wave goodbye to the beauty of the office. Admittedly, I visit the office more than I have to. Every now and then, a healthy, functioning man like myself (at least, not in the head) needs to pleasure of watching Sensei act out once in a while. Although editors traditionally visit the author's home for their meetings, I try to assert a field of dominance onto her co-workers. Mixed with my status and relationship to her, I don't have to worry about anyone hitting on Sensei.
We stop by a bar that's a fair distance away from the office and order two bottles of beer. I quickly finish mines, not really feeling much of anything. Meanwhile, Sensei seems to struggle when finishing hers. It also seems like the full effect of the beverage has already taken over. "You're pushing yourself aren't you?"
"Nooo! I'm nooot!" she says with slurred prolongation. She sets the half-empty bottle on the counter and hangs her head downwards for a good moment. "Yeah, I think I have..." She hiccups, her hair and boobs bounce as her shoulders shrug up. She looks up at me with watery eyes, a red beet face, and her breathing heavily weary and blowing an alcoholic breath towards my face. "Can you take me hoooome....?" She hiccups again.
"Sure thing, Sensei."
"Don't call me that outside of work! You know how it makes me upset!" Face pouting cutely, she's on the verge of crying.
"Right, sorry. I'll take you home, Yoko-san."
She blushes at the mentioning of her name. "You're welcome, Senpai..." Yoko-san made me agree to call her by her name outside of work. In return, she calls me senpai. This is another reason why I believe she might have a crush on me. Walking Yoko-san out of the bar and down the sidewalk, her walking pattern is completely off the rails. There are moments the side of her body kept bumping into mine, meaning I was given the royal treat of having Yoko-san's breast collide with mines every now and then. "It's no uuuuse! I c-can't walk!" She hiccups again. "Can you carry mee, pleeeaase...?"
To Be Continued...