Tomoko's body shifted against mine, the soft rustle of her loose t-shirt brushing my arm.
I could feel her heartbeat — steady, but with that subtle uptick that told me she was thinking the same thing I was.
Then she looked up at me — not the usual gentle, big-sister smile she gave in public — but that private, quiet, devastatingly warm look she saved just for me. The one that made my stomach twist and my chest feel like it was being squeezed from the inside.
"Sousuke-kun…" Her voice had a playful lilt, but there was a note of something heavier underneath. "I've been thinking…"
"Oh? That's dangerous," I said, my attempt at humor already shaky.
She didn't laugh. Instead, she leaned in close, her breath grazing my ear. "You worked hard earlier. You even pushed yourself despite your hand just recovering."
Her lips ghosted along my jawline before she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again.
"I think… you deserve a special reward."
Reward? My brain immediately tried to run through possibilities — but it didn't get very far before she was sliding off the sofa, her knees sinking into the thick rug between my legs.
"Wait—Tomoko…" I tried to form a sentence, but she placed one finger over my lips.
"Shh. Just sit back."
Her voice was low, velvet-soft, but it carried a quiet command I couldn't disobey even if I wanted to.
Her hands came next. Warm palms pressing lightly against my thighs, fingertips tracing slow, deliberate lines up and down. It wasn't just touching — it was measuring, teasing, mapping every muscle and twitch.
The living room light was dim, just enough to catch the shine in her hair as she tilted her head, watching my reactions with a faint, knowing smile.
"You're already… tense," she murmured, her hands sliding closer to the center.
"You're the one making me tense," I managed to say, but my voice was embarrassingly unsteady.
She laughed softly — not mocking, just pleased — and then hooked her fingers at my waistband.
There was no rush. No quick tug. She just inched it down, millimeter by millimeter, as if savoring the anticipation almost as much as I was drowning in it.
When the cool air hit, it was nothing compared to the heat of her hands a moment later.
"Sosuke-kun has a lot of stamina", Tomoko commented as she gazed at my hard-on.
And then her lips —
God.
The first touch was light, almost experimental, but it shot through me like a spark racing down a fuse. Her mouth was warm, soft, impossibly gentle at first… before the pressure deepened, the rhythm forming.
My head tilted back against the sofa without me realizing. The ceiling fan above spun lazily, completely at odds with the rapid pounding of my heartbeat.
She alternated between slow, teasing swirls and deep, deliberate pulls, each shift sending a new wave of heat through my body. Her hands anchored me — one gripping my thigh, the other steadying the motion — while her eyes occasionally flicked up to catch my expression.
I didn't even realize my fingers had slid into her hair until I felt the silky strands between them. She didn't stop — if anything, she seemed to lean into the contact, letting me guide her pace just a fraction.
The sound — faint, wet, and utterly indecent — filled the otherwise quiet room. The cake plates on the coffee table sat forgotten. The moonlight through the curtains cast soft silver over her bare shoulder as she moved.
Her first few movements already had my pulse racing — but then… she stopped.
Just like that.
Her lips left me, and I was left gripping the edge of the sofa, my body demanding motion while my brain scrambled to figure out why she'd just—
"Hmm…" She tilted her head like she was inspecting a piece of art. "Sousuke-kun's reactions are… interesting."
"Interesting?" I croaked. "That's one word for it."
She grinned faintly, her hand still resting dangerously close but not quite touching. "You're not just… responsive. You're also very impatient."
"That's—! I'm not—" My voice tripped over itself, which probably didn't help my case.
"Mmm." She leaned forward again, not to resume, but to press a slow kiss against my thigh instead, just beside where I desperately wanted her.
The contrast between the soft warmth of her mouth there and the aching absence elsewhere was pure torture.
"You know," she said, as if making casual conversation over tea, "Sachiko used to say I have terrible self-control when it comes to rewarding people. That I… indulge them too much."
Her fingers traced lazy circles against my skin, never quite moving higher.
My hands gripped the cushion beside me. "Tomoko…"
She looked up at me through her lashes, her expression unreadable — except for the faint curve of her lips that told me she was enjoying every second of this.
"You want me to continue?" she asked, her tone deceptively innocent.
I swallowed. "Yes."
"Hmm… but if I keep going without a little break, you might finish too soon. And then…" She let her sentence trail off as she leaned in closer, her breath fanning over me, "we'd miss out on all the fun."
I groaned. "You're evil."
She chuckled — a warm, rich sound — before giving a small, deliberate lick that made my whole body jerk.
"Maybe. But you like it."
Her free hand rested on my chest now, feeling the way my heart pounded. "Still so fast," she murmured. "Even after all that cake."
"Cake doesn't make my heart race like this," I muttered.
That earned me another amused hum — and finally, mercifully, her lips returned to where I needed them. Only this time, she didn't go slow.
It was deliberate, deep, and far more intense than before — as if she'd decided to punish me for doubting her pace earlier. My fingers found her hair again, not pulling, just anchoring myself against the rush.
She glanced up, eyes locking with mine mid-motion, and the sheer intimacy of it nearly undid me.
When she finally eased back, she looked thoroughly pleased with herself. "See? Better when you wait a little."
I exhaled hard, dragging her up into my arms. "You're going to kill me one day, Tomoko-san."
She smiled against my lips. "Then I'll make sure your last moments are worth it."
I thought that was it — that she'd climb back into my lap, we'd kiss until we were too tired to move, and the night would fade into the comfortable haze of satisfied exhaustion.
But Tomoko didn't move to get up.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting in a way I'd learned to recognize: the dangerous idea look.
"You know, Sousuke-kun," she murmured, her fingertips brushing along my thigh, "my hands… and mouth… aren't the only ways I can spoil you."
I blinked, still catching my breath. "That sounds like you're about to—"
Before I could finish, she tugged at the hem of her loose white t-shirt. The fabric slid upward, revealing the smooth line of her stomach, then higher—until the soft swell of her breasts, barely restrained by a thin lace bra, filled my vision.
My brain short-circuited.
She unclasped the bra in one smooth motion, letting it fall to the rug beside her. The sight hit me like a physical impact — the gentle curve, the warmth I could already imagine, the way her skin caught the dim light from the living room lamp.
"Tomoko…" My voice was hoarse, almost reverent.
She smiled — that slow, knowing smile — and shifted closer, pressing herself between my legs again. Her hands gathered her breasts together, and with a fluid, practiced motion, she slid them around me.
The sensation was… overwhelming. Warmth. Softness. The faint scent of her skin, mixed with the lingering sweetness of cake.
"Mm… just relax again," she whispered, her voice vibrating through me almost as much as the motion did.
Her rhythm was slow at first, deliberate, letting me feel every inch of the movement. The slickness from earlier made it effortless, each glide sending a new shiver racing up my spine.
I couldn't help it — my hands went to her shoulders, not to push or pull, just to hold onto something as my breathing grew heavier.
She looked up at me once, her lips curved in faint amusement. "Your face right now… Sousuke-kun, you're adorable."
"Adorable isn't the word I'd use," I managed to rasp.
She laughed softly, adjusting her angle so the motion tightened — faster now, smoother, her chest enveloping me completely. The sound of it — the faint, wet slide — mixed with the subtle hitch in her breathing every time she shifted.
I didn't know where to look — her flushed face, her focused hands, or the hypnotic motion of her breasts.
Her movements slowed — not because she was stopping, but because she was controlling the pace now, making every stroke maddeningly deliberate. I could feel the heat building, the tension curling tighter with each pass of her impossibly soft skin.
"Tomoko…" My voice cracked, rough with warning. "I'm… I'm close…"
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, that knowing glint flashing again. "Good. I want to see it."
That one sentence hit me harder than anything else tonight.
She shifted back slightly, letting my length slip free from between her breasts. Her hand replaced the motion — fast, steady — while her other reached up to pull her hair over one shoulder, baring her face to me completely.
"Show me, Sousuke-kun," she whispered, her tone both gentle and commanding.
The sight of her — flushed cheeks, lips parted, eyes locked on mine — pushed me over the edge.
A rush of heat shot through me as the first spurt landed across her cheek, followed by another streaking over her nose and lips. She didn't flinch — if anything, she leaned in closer, letting the warm mess paint her skin.
Her tongue darted out just enough to catch a drop at the corner of her mouth, her gaze never breaking from mine. The contrast between the delicate, refined woman she always seemed to be and the utterly shameless way she took every bit of me on her face made my pulse race even harder, even after it was over.
When the last of it dripped down her chin, she finally gave me a faint, wicked smile.
"Mmm… you look like you enjoyed that, Sousuke-kun."
I laughed breathlessly, leaning forward to kiss the edge of her jaw where a streak still glistened.
"That was… yeah. That was perfect."
She wiped at her cheek slowly with her fingers, then, to my complete disbelief, sucked the remnants from them with quiet satisfaction.
"Good. Then we should celebrate your recovery like this… more often."
I collapsed back against the sofa, absolutely certain I wasn't surviving the night if she kept that promise.
--
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