Yuta pressed his lips to Ayumi's, their tongues sliding together, hot and wet, melting into each other in the dark room. The air was thick, heavy with their breaths and the faint musk of her sweat, her lavender scent mixing with his own salty tang. His hands gripped her shoulders, fingers digging into her tank top, the fabric damp under his palms. She kissed back hard, her tongue swirling around his, a slick dance that sent heat rushing through him. Fuck, she's good at this, he thought, his cock stirring fast, swelling against his jeans, a tight ache building low.
They kept at it, lips locked for minutes, her soft moans vibrating into his mouth—low, needy, stoking his fire. Ayumi's hand drifted down, brushing his bulge through the denim, her fingers teasing, light at first. Oh shit—yeah, pulsed in his head, pleasure spiking sharp as she stroked him a few times, firm now, her grip knowing. His cock throbbed, hard as hell—then, a rush hit, a shudder ripping through him, and it went limp, spent too soon. Already? Damn it, he groaned inside, frustration bubbling up, his face burning red.
"It's…" Yuta pulled back, voice rough, trailing off. He couldn't finish—couldn't do much yet, still a kid at 15, his body betraying him before the real fun. Fucking useless.
Ayumi leaned in, her breath warm on his cheek, her ponytail brushing his neck. "Well, Yuta," she said, soft but firm, "I have a favor to ask. Could you do it for me?" Her eyes glinted in the faint light seeping through the curtains, catching his frustrated frown.
"Hm?" He looked at her, nodding quick. "Yeah, I'll do it." Anything—gotta make up for this.
She bit her lip, hesitating, then locked eyes with him. "You can touch me down there. I'm not taking off my pants, but you can rub your hand—feel it."
"Really?!" Yuta's voice cracked, excitement exploding past the shame, his dick twitching again despite its flop.
"Yes," she said, her face flushing red, a shy edge cutting her usual cool. "Actually… after our sessions, I always touch myself. So this time… how about you do it?" Her breath hitched, her cheeks glowing in the dark.
"That…" Yuta grinned, wide and eager. "Of course I will." He glanced between her legs as she spread them slow, her pants stretching tight over her thighs—nothing bare to see, just the shape, the promise. Fuck yes—finally. His heart pounded, joy surging from his gut—he could please her, really please her. Ayumi always pampered him—handjobs, blowjobs, her mouth hot and wet—leaving him sad he couldn't give back. Now's my shot, he thought, determination firing him up.
He slid his hand forward, hesitant at first, then pressed it between her legs—firm against her crotch, the fabric rough under his palm. Ayumi lay back on the bed, legs parting wider, her breath catching as his fingers found her heat through the layers. She's warm—fuck, so warm, he thought, rubbing slow, feeling the faint give of her pussy beneath—blocked by pants and underwear, but there, alive. Her body jolted, a soft gasp slipping out, and his dick stirred again, half-hard, thrilled.
Ayumi's head tipped back, her lips clamping shut, pleasure sparking through her—sharp, electric, tingling up her spine. His hand—oh god—it's good, pulsed in her mind, her pussy clenching under his touch, wet seeping into her panties. Yuta moved steady—up, down, fingers dragging slow, then slower—teasing her clit through the cloth, a steady rhythm that drove her nuts. Faster—fuck, go faster, she screamed inside, her hips twitching, craving more—his fingers inside, his cock plunging deep, taking her virginity. Grow up—fuck me—please, raced through her, the fantasy spiking her heat, her pussy soaking, aching.
She bit her lip harder, tasting salt—Torture, pure torture. His slow pace was agony—steady, relentless, not enough. Tell him—say it, she begged herself, but her voice stayed locked, pride or shame holding it back. Her thighs trembled, sweat beading on her neck, dripping down her cleavage—Need it—need more. She arched her hips, pressing into his hand, desperate for pressure, her moans leaking out—soft, sharp, "Ah—ahh"—her head tossing back, ready to burst.
"Ayumi," Yuta said sudden, his hand pulling away.
Her pleasure snapped—No—no—no!—a cold void rushing in, her pussy twitching, aching, lost without his touch. What the fuck? Her body shook, soaked panties clinging to her, her skin slick with sweat—So close—fuck, so close. She wanted to scream, to grab his hand, shove it back—Touch me—finish me!—but froze as Yui's voice cut through, timid, shaky.
"What the hell are you here for?" Ayumi snapped, annoyance flaring hot, her voice rough with unmet need. Fucking Yui—now? She'd been climbing, peaking, the best orgasm dangling—ruined.
"Umm… ahh… I'm sorry, but…" Yui stammered, her face red, eyes darting—Ayumi's flushed sprawl, Yuta's tense frame. "Ryuki… he ran away." Embarrassment choked her, the scene screaming sex—her best friend, this kid, tangled in heat.
"What? Where? What happened?" Yuta bolted up, worry cutting his haze, his voice sharp.
"I don't know…" Yui mumbled, shrinking, her hands twisting.
"Ayumi," Yuta said, turning to her, "I'm sorry, but Ryuki isn't like that. Something's up—otherwise, he'd never leave without telling me." He bowed quick, guilt flashing, and darted out, footsteps pounding down the stairs.
Ayumi watched him go, sighing hard, her pussy still twitching—wet, needy, unsatisfied. Fuck—gone. She flopped back, thighs pressing together, the ache unbearable—Not now, damn it. She glared at Yui, her breath steadying slow. "What happened?"
"I…" Yui hesitated, then spilled—voice low, shaky. "Ryuki… he made me strip. Tied me up—tight, everywhere. Hands, legs, boobs… my… down there. Gagged me with his underwear. Then he freaked—untied me, ran off."
"Hm…" Ayumi sat up, eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging her lips. "So, did you like it?"
"Uh…" Yui looked down, her face burning, words stalling. "I hate it. It was too much—my body still hurts where he tied me. Red marks, bruises… but…" She trailed off, shame choking her—what could she say?
"It also made you excited—want it again, right?" Ayumi said, knowing her too well, her voice soft but cutting.
"No, I don't want it, but…" Yui's eyes flicked up, then down, embarrassment drowning her. "If… he wanted to do it, I wouldn't mind." Hate it—love it—fuck, I'm messed up, pulsed in her head, her body still tingling—pain, thrill, a dark itch she couldn't scratch.
Ayumi nodded, her own heat fading slow, a wry smile lingering. "Figures," she muttered, the room quiet now—two girls, tangled in their own messes, the air heavy with what they wouldn't say.