Ichigo's thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel.
Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. "Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can't be professional allll of the time, now can I?"
Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it.
The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. "Don't you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~"
With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her.
She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don't you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?"
This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase.
She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers.
"Mm, not really..." he said. "Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh..."
He gulped. "... It's been taking up a lot of our time. It's stressful."
That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly.
At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively.
That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever.
She plunged her top row of teeth into the dimpled bottom lip, working it as she thought.
"Still no baby? Haven't you two been trying for over a year now? Heh~" She worked her fingertip in slow circles on the material of his jeans. "Shiiiit... Mm, you know, you don't exactly look like the kind of guy with a broken dick, either."
Ichigo huffed, watching her pink fingernail drawing slow circles on it. Where his leg was directly under her hand, the skin was prickling.
"Hff... It's not me." He felt embarrassed when Matsumoto tensed up, leaning away from him slightly. Looks like he'd spoken much more forcefully than he'd meant to.
But as soon as it appeared on her face, that look of consternation vanished, and she was all the way back to one of her impish smiles. "Mmhmhm... My my, someone's very defensive of his masculinity."
She leaned forwards, pushing that child-feeding bosom more firmly into his side. "If anything, you look like you could knock up any girl you wanted~"
"Mm. Yeah..." Ichigo groaned, resisting the urge to seize her right then and there. "It's just..."
Matsumoto cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
While the fingers of her right hand were still busily crawling from his knee all the way up to his thigh, and higher, she was directing him like a stage magician with her other hand.
She traced the fingertips of her left hand around her belly button in a slow circle, touching the skin with as much reverence as if it were the cute cleft between her thighs.
She shuddered, long legs kicking once or twice... "Mmm..." Where her fingers trailed, she lightly scratched the soft flesh of her belly just enough to leave a trail of red. "If only someone else could donate some eggs..."
She almost completely hid her hand under the two colossal swells of her Fertility Goddess titties.
It made staring down there hard, and he was grateful when she drew his attention back to her face.
The Shinigami pursed her lips, looking up at him. "Surely a guy like you knows someone who'd volunteer for that task, mm? I wonder..."
"Ahh... Yeah, um, maybe." This was the part of the night, Ichigo realized, where he should be saying something to the effect of, "It's been nice catching up to you, but I should really be going." The point where he finally realized he was sitting on a couch in a private booth with a promiscuous Hellcat feeding him beer after beer while stroking his ego.
Not only was he keeping his wife waiting, but things were getting more and more steamy with the half-undressed Matsumoto.
Her hand was hand honestly just a few more inches away from giving the bulging, straining crotch of his pants a coy little squeeze, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time now until she was gently pushing him down onto his back, climbing into the saddle, and enclosing his erection in a tight wall of muscles that would make him feel so, so good.
It wouldn't just be the pleasure of being milked. He'd feel good as a man as well.
They didn't make women more fertile than Rangiku Matsumoto, and Ichigo would finally be able to fire his hyper-virile, impregnating seed into a womb where it would actually take root, instead of just being... washed out again by an inhospitable system.
After an entire year of blasting litres of jizz into a womb as fertile as a pocket pussy, the thought of burying himself in something sooo much more warm and receptive had him rooted in his seat next to that broodmare, when he should have been racing out of the club.
Ichigo was being a bad boy. Thankfully for him, bad boys got to play with bad girls. They got to breed the fuck out of bad girls.
"I... umm... I'm not sure, really," Ichigo continued, eyes dropping to her breasts and thighs again. She saw him staring, and licked her lips.
"You know what you need~?" she asked coyly, drawing another circle on his leg. "I know juuuust the thing to calm you down, stud."
She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white. Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn't quite recognize.
Ichigo's thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel.
Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. "Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can't be professional allll of the time, now can I?"
Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it.
The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. "Don't you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~"
With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her.
She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don't you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?"
This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase.
She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers.
"Mm, not really..." he said. "Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh..."
He gulped. "... It's been taking up a lot of our time. It's stressful."
That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly.
At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively.
That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever.
She plunged her top row of teeth into the dimpled bottom lip, working it as she thought.
"Still no baby? Haven't you two been trying for over a year now? Heh~" She worked her fingertip in slow circles on the material of his jeans. "Shiiiit... Mm, you know, you don't exactly look like the kind of guy with a broken dick, either."
Ichigo huffed, watching her pink fingernail drawing slow circles on it. Where his leg was directly under her hand, the skin was prickling.
"Hff... It's not me." He felt embarrassed when Matsumoto tensed up, leaning away from him slightly. Looks like he'd spoken much more forcefully than he'd meant to.
But as soon as it appeared on her face, that look of consternation vanished, and she was all the way back to one of her impish smiles. "Mmhmhm... My my, someone's very defensive of his masculinity."
She leaned forwards, pushing that child-feeding bosom more firmly into his side. "If anything, you look like you could knock up any girl you wanted~"
"Mm. Yeah..." Ichigo groaned, resisting the urge to seize her right then and there. "It's just..."
Matsumoto cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
While the fingers of her right hand were still busily crawling from his knee all the way up to his thigh, and higher, she was directing him like a stage magician with her other hand.
She traced the fingertips of her left hand around her belly button in a slow circle, touching the skin with as much reverence as if it were the cute cleft between her thighs.
She shuddered, long legs kicking once or twice... "Mmm..." Where her fingers trailed, she lightly scratched the soft flesh of her belly just enough to leave a trail of red. "If only someone else could donate some eggs..."
She almost completely hid her hand under the two colossal swells of her Fertility Goddess titties.
It made staring down there hard, and he was grateful when she drew his attention back to her face.
The Shinigami pursed her lips, looking up at him. "Surely a guy like you knows someone who'd volunteer for that task, mm? I wonder..."
"Ahh... Yeah, um, maybe." This was the part of the night, Ichigo realized, where he should be saying something to the effect of, "It's been nice catching up to you, but I should really be going." The point where he finally realized he was sitting on a couch in a private booth with a promiscuous Hellcat feeding him beer after beer while stroking his ego.
Not only was he keeping his wife waiting, but things were getting more and more steamy with the half-undressed Matsumoto.
Her hand was hand honestly just a few more inches away from giving the bulging, straining crotch of his pants a coy little squeeze, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time now until she was gently pushing him down onto his back, climbing into the saddle, and enclosing his erection in a tight wall of muscles that would make him feel so, so good.
It wouldn't just be the pleasure of being milked. He'd feel good as a man as well.
They didn't make women more fertile than Rangiku Matsumoto, and Ichigo would finally be able to fire his hyper-virile, impregnating seed into a womb where it would actually take root, instead of just being... washed out again by an inhospitable system.
After an entire year of blasting litres of jizz into a womb as fertile as a pocket pussy, the thought of burying himself in something sooo much more warm and receptive had him rooted in his seat next to that broodmare, when he should have been racing out of the club.
Ichigo was being a bad boy. Thankfully for him, bad boys got to play with bad girls. They got to breed the fuck out of bad girls.
"I... umm... I'm not sure, really," Ichigo continued, eyes dropping to her breasts and thighs again. She saw him staring, and licked her lips.
"You know what you need~?" she asked coyly, drawing another circle on his leg. "I know juuuust the thing to calm you down, stud."
She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white. Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn't quite recognize.
Ichigo's thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel.
Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. "Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can't be professional allll of the time, now can I?"
Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it.
The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. "Don't you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~"
With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her.
She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don't you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?"
This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase.
She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers.
"Mm, not really..." he said. "Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh..."
He gulped. "... It's been taking up a lot of our time. It's stressful."
That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly.
At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively.
That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever.
She plunged her top row of teeth into the dimpled bottom lip, working it as she thought.
"Still no baby? Haven't you two been trying for over a year now? Heh~" She worked her fingertip in slow circles on the material of his jeans. "Shiiiit... Mm, you know, you don't exactly look like the kind of guy with a broken dick, either."
Ichigo huffed, watching her pink fingernail drawing slow circles on it. Where his leg was directly under her hand, the skin was prickling.
"Hff... It's not me." He felt embarrassed when Matsumoto tensed up, leaning away from him slightly. Looks like he'd spoken much more forcefully than he'd meant to.
But as soon as it appeared on her face, that look of consternation vanished, and she was all the way back to one of her impish smiles. "Mmhmhm... My my, someone's very defensive of his masculinity."
She leaned forwards, pushing that child-feeding bosom more firmly into his side. "If anything, you look like you could knock up any girl you wanted~"
"Mm. Yeah..." Ichigo groaned, resisting the urge to seize her right then and there. "It's just..."
Matsumoto cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
While the fingers of her right hand were still busily crawling from his knee all the way up to his thigh, and higher, she was directing him like a stage magician with her other hand.
She traced the fingertips of her left hand around her belly button in a slow circle, touching the skin with as much reverence as if it were the cute cleft between her thighs.
She shuddered, long legs kicking once or twice... "Mmm..." Where her fingers trailed, she lightly scratched the soft flesh of her belly just enough to leave a trail of red. "If only someone else could donate some eggs..."
She almost completely hid her hand under the two colossal swells of her Fertility Goddess titties.
It made staring down there hard, and he was grateful when she drew his attention back to her face.
The Shinigami pursed her lips, looking up at him. "Surely a guy like you knows someone who'd volunteer for that task, mm? I wonder..."
"Ahh... Yeah, um, maybe." This was the part of the night, Ichigo realized, where he should be saying something to the effect of, "It's been nice catching up to you, but I should really be going." The point where he finally realized he was sitting on a couch in a private booth with a promiscuous Hellcat feeding him beer after beer while stroking his ego.
Not only was he keeping his wife waiting, but things were getting more and more steamy with the half-undressed Matsumoto.
Her hand was hand honestly just a few more inches away from giving the bulging, straining crotch of his pants a coy little squeeze, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time now until she was gently pushing him down onto his back, climbing into the saddle, and enclosing his erection in a tight wall of muscles that would make him feel so, so good.
It wouldn't just be the pleasure of being milked. He'd feel good as a man as well.
They didn't make women more fertile than Rangiku Matsumoto, and Ichigo would finally be able to fire his hyper-virile, impregnating seed into a womb where it would actually take root, instead of just being... washed out again by an inhospitable system.
After an entire year of blasting litres of jizz into a womb as fertile as a pocket pussy, the thought of burying himself in something sooo much more warm and receptive had him rooted in his seat next to that broodmare, when he should have been racing out of the club.
Ichigo was being a bad boy. Thankfully for him, bad boys got to play with bad girls. They got to breed the fuck out of bad girls.
"I... umm... I'm not sure, really," Ichigo continued, eyes dropping to her breasts and thighs again. She saw him staring, and licked her lips.
"You know what you need~?" she asked coyly, drawing another circle on his leg. "I know juuuust the thing to calm you down, stud."
She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white. Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn't quite recognize.
****Ichigo's thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel.
Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. "Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can't be professional allll of the time, now can I?"
Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it.
The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. "Don't you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~"
With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her.
She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don't you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?"
This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase.
She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers.
"Mm, not really..." he said. "Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh..."
He gulped. "... It's been taking up a lot of our time. It's stressful."
That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly.
At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively.
That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever.
She plunged her top row of teeth into the dimpled bottom lip, working it as she thought.
"Still no baby? Haven't you two been trying for over a year now? Heh~" She worked her fingertip in slow circles on the material of his jeans. "Shiiiit... Mm, you know, you don't exactly look like the kind of guy with a broken dick, either."
Ichigo huffed, watching her pink fingernail drawing slow circles on it. Where his leg was directly under her hand, the skin was prickling.
"Hff... It's not me." He felt embarrassed when Matsumoto tensed up, leaning away from him slightly. Looks like he'd spoken much more forcefully than he'd meant to.
But as soon as it appeared on her face, that look of consternation vanished, and she was all the way back to one of her impish smiles. "Mmhmhm... My my, someone's very defensive of his masculinity."
She leaned forwards, pushing that child-feeding bosom more firmly into his side. "If anything, you look like you could knock up any girl you wanted~"
"Mm. Yeah..." Ichigo groaned, resisting the urge to seize her right then and there. "It's just..."
Matsumoto cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
While the fingers of her right hand were still busily crawling from his knee all the way up to his thigh, and higher, she was directing him like a stage magician with her other hand.
She traced the fingertips of her left hand around her belly button in a slow circle, touching the skin with as much reverence as if it were the cute cleft between her thighs.
She shuddered, long legs kicking once or twice... "Mmm..." Where her fingers trailed, she lightly scratched the soft flesh of her belly just enough to leave a trail of red. "If only someone else could donate some eggs..."
She almost completely hid her hand under the two colossal swells of her Fertility Goddess titties.
It made staring down there hard, and he was grateful when she drew his attention back to her face.
The Shinigami pursed her lips, looking up at him. "Surely a guy like you knows someone who'd volunteer for that task, mm? I wonder..."
"Ahh... Yeah, um, maybe." This was the part of the night, Ichigo realized, where he should be saying something to the effect of, "It's been nice catching up to you, but I should really be going." The point where he finally realized he was sitting on a couch in a private booth with a promiscuous Hellcat feeding him beer after beer while stroking his ego.
Not only was he keeping his wife waiting, but things were getting more and more steamy with the half-undressed Matsumoto.
Her hand was hand honestly just a few more inches away from giving the bulging, straining crotch of his pants a coy little squeeze, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time now until she was gently pushing him down onto his back, climbing into the saddle, and enclosing his erection in a tight wall of muscles that would make him feel so, so good.
It wouldn't just be the pleasure of being milked. He'd feel good as a man as well.
They didn't make women more fertile than Rangiku Matsumoto, and Ichigo would finally be able to fire his hyper-virile, impregnating seed into a womb where it would actually take root, instead of just being... washed out again by an inhospitable system.
After an entire year of blasting litres of jizz into a womb as fertile as a pocket pussy, the thought of burying himself in something sooo much more warm and receptive had him rooted in his seat next to that broodmare, when he should have been racing out of the club.
Ichigo was being a bad boy. Thankfully for him, bad boys got to play with bad girls. They got to breed the fuck out of bad girls.
"I... umm... I'm not sure, really," Ichigo continued, eyes dropping to her breasts and thighs again. She saw him staring, and licked her lips.
"You know what you need~?" she asked coyly, drawing another circle on his leg. "I know juuuust the thing to calm you down, stud."
She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white. Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn't quite recognize.
Ichigo's thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel.
Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. "Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can't be professional allll of the time, now can I?"
Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it.
The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. "Don't you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~"
With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her.
She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don't you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?"
This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase.
She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers.
"Mm, not really..." he said. "Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh..."
He gulped. "... It's been taking up a lot of our time. It's stressful."
That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly.
At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively.
That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever.
She plunged her top row of teeth into the dimpled bottom lip, working it as she thought.
"Still no baby? Haven't you two been trying for over a year now? Heh~" She worked her fingertip in slow circles on the material of his jeans. "Shiiiit... Mm, you know, you don't exactly look like the kind of guy with a broken dick, either."
Ichigo huffed, watching her pink fingernail drawing slow circles on it. Where his leg was directly under her hand, the skin was prickling.
"Hff... It's not me." He felt embarrassed when Matsumoto tensed up, leaning away from him slightly. Looks like he'd spoken much more forcefully than he'd meant to.
But as soon as it appeared on her face, that look of consternation vanished, and she was all the way back to one of her impish smiles. "Mmhmhm... My my, someone's very defensive of his masculinity."
She leaned forwards, pushing that child-feeding bosom more firmly into his side. "If anything, you look like you could knock up any girl you wanted~"
"Mm. Yeah..." Ichigo groaned, resisting the urge to seize her right then and there. "It's just..."
Matsumoto cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
While the fingers of her right hand were still busily crawling from his knee all the way up to his thigh, and higher, she was directing him like a stage magician with her other hand.
She traced the fingertips of her left hand around her belly button in a slow circle, touching the skin with as much reverence as if it were the cute cleft between her thighs.
She shuddered, long legs kicking once or twice... "Mmm..." Where her fingers trailed, she lightly scratched the soft flesh of her belly just enough to leave a trail of red. "If only someone else could donate some eggs..."
She almost completely hid her hand under the two colossal swells of her Fertility Goddess titties.
It made staring down there hard, and he was grateful when she drew his attention back to her face.
The Shinigami pursed her lips, looking up at him. "Surely a guy like you knows someone who'd volunteer for that task, mm? I wonder..."
"Ahh... Yeah, um, maybe." This was the part of the night, Ichigo realized, where he should be saying something to the effect of, "It's been nice catching up to you, but I should really be going." The point where he finally realized he was sitting on a couch in a private booth with a promiscuous Hellcat feeding him beer after beer while stroking his ego.
Not only was he keeping his wife waiting, but things were getting more and more steamy with the half-undressed Matsumoto.
Her hand was hand honestly just a few more inches away from giving the bulging, straining crotch of his pants a coy little squeeze, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time now until she was gently pushing him down onto his back, climbing into the saddle, and enclosing his erection in a tight wall of muscles that would make him feel so, so good.
It wouldn't just be the pleasure of being milked. He'd feel good as a man as well.
They didn't make women more fertile than Rangiku Matsumoto, and Ichigo would finally be able to fire his hyper-virile, impregnating seed into a womb where it would actually take root, instead of just being... washed out again by an inhospitable system.
After an entire year of blasting litres of jizz into a womb as fertile as a pocket pussy, the thought of burying himself in something sooo much more warm and receptive had him rooted in his seat next to that broodmare, when he should have been racing out of the club.
Ichigo was being a bad boy. Thankfully for him, bad boys got to play with bad girls. They got to breed the fuck out of bad girls.
"I... umm... I'm not sure, really," Ichigo continued, eyes dropping to her breasts and thighs again. She saw him staring, and licked her lips.
"You know what you need~?" she asked coyly, drawing another circle on his leg. "I know juuuust the thing to calm you down, stud."
She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white. Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn't quite recognize.
****Ichigo's thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel.
Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. "Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can't be professional allll of the time, now can I?"
Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it.
The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. "Don't you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~"
With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her.
She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don't you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?"
This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase.
She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers.
"Mm, not really..." he said. "Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh..."
He gulped. "... It's been taking up a lot of our time. It's stressful."
That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly.
At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively.
That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever.