Makoto's mind was reeling from the sheer audacity of what had just happened. Ayane, his quiet weeb friend, had declared open war on his harem, and the other two had just accepted it.
They were in the closet and waiting. He looked at Ayane, who now stood in the middle of her living room like a predatory goddess.
"So," she purred, her voice low and throaty. "I believe you promised me a welcoming ritual?"
"I guess we can start now," he managed, his voice coming out breathless.
He gently pulled her close, his hands beginning a slow exploration over her clothes. The dress fabric felt soft and expensive. "This dress looks good on you. Better than your usual tank top and shorts."
"Oh, you like this one?" Ayane's voice hummed as a shiver ran down her spine from his hands exploring her waist and hips. "Then you should get a good look."
Her hands slid up his chest, fingers expertly unbuttoning his Henley shirt. "But you're right," she whispered, her lips ghosting over his. "It's a nice dress. It would almost be a shame to ruin it."
Her knee came up, pressing firmly against the hardening bulge in his jeans. "Almost." With a swift motion, she turned to present her back. "There's a zipper," she said loudly, clearly aiming her words at the closet. "And I'll need a big, strong man to help me with it."
Her eyes flicked toward the closet with triumphant challenge. "Unless you think one of the girls in the audience would want to come out and give me a hand?"
A muffled, furious hiss came from inside. "That bitch—!" Definitely Yuna.
Makoto gently pulled down the zipper, his hands cupping her breasts with a warm smile. "Hmm, those feel nice. I like 'em big."
Ayane gasped softly as his hands found her breasts. She arched back, pressing more firmly into his touch. "I'm glad you approve," she murmured throatily. "They're all-natural. And all yours... for today."
She turned in his arms with fluid confidence, eyes blazing with possessive fire. "My turn," she whispered. Her fingers worked quickly to pull his shirt free.
He grinned wickedly. "Wanna help me undress, too? They were the ones who helped me pick these clothes. Do I look good in these?"
"They have very good taste," she said loudly, projecting toward the closet. "This shirt really brings out the color of your eyes."
She yanked the shirt off and tossed it onto a chair. "But I have to say," she purred, hands tracing his soft belly, "I think you look much better without it." Her gaze dropped to his jeans. "Now, let's see what Yuna-chan picked out for your ass."
With practiced swiftness, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. No hesitation. Her hands slipped inside, fingers wrapping around his thick, hard cock. "Oh," she breathed appreciatively. "Very nice."
From the closet came a sharp gasp, followed by someone's head hitting the wall. "Ow! Dammit, Mika, stop pushing me!" Yuna hissed.
Makoto groaned pathetically. "Come on, it's quite sensitive." His eyes sparkled wickedly as he looked at her. "You should get your ass on my face. I've been wanting to try sixty-nine since the first time we met."
"Oh, really?" Ayane's laugh was low and throaty, filled with genuine amusement and something darker. "So you've been thinking about that too?"
She gave him a decisive shove, sending him sprawling onto the couch. "Did you hear that, girls?" she called out with vicious sweetness. "He's been saving this special position just for me!"
Without hesitation, she kicked off her dress. She wore simple black lace underwear that hid very little. She swung her leg over, straddling his chest before lowering down with fluid confidence.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her hot breath ghosting across his thighs as she guided his cock toward her mouth. "I'll make it worth the wait."
Her perfectly waxed pussy pressed against his lips, slick and ready. The clean, musky scent of her arousal filled his senses.
Makoto slurped at her cunt, his tongue sucking her labia and licking her juices with a fond smile. "Damn, that stinks. I bet you haven't washed it for days... But it's exactly to my liking."
Ayane let out a sharp, choked gasp, her body going rigid. All her calculated seduction and confident performance shattered by his raw vulgarity. A deep blush exploded across her face from neck to ears. "I-I showered this morning, you stinky, disgusting weeb!" she sputtered, her voice mixing indignation with excitement she couldn't hide.
From the closet came a loud thump, like someone kicking the door. "Goddammit!" Yuna's muffled voice seethed. "She's not even going to tease him first? What a fucking amateur!"
Ayane's hips began moving in a slow, involuntary grind against his mouth. She tasted complex and intoxicating: a bit of soap, faint salty sweat, and the sharp musk of pure lust.
Her mouth, which had been expertly working him, went slack in surprise. Her soft, wet lips slid down his shaft. "You... you really like that? My smell, I mean..." she whispered, her voice raw and broken against his skin.
She didn't wait for an answer. Her movements became frantic, desperate. Her hips bucked against him, moans forming a soft symphony of pleasure. She wasn't performing for the closet audience anymore. This was just for him.
From the closet, the angry muttering had stopped, replaced by heavy silence. They were listening and watching. Makoto groaned gutturally as he kept up his oral assault. "So... how does my cock taste? I'm sure you've been wanting to suck on that for a while... huh?"
Ayane made a sound between a sob and a laugh. "You should shut up," she gasped, voice muffled against his shaft. But her mouth betrayed her. Her sucking became more frantic, cheeks hollowing as she took him deep. His taste branded her tongue, salty and intoxicating.
Her hips moved in perfect rhythm against his mouth. Her cunt was hot, wet, impossibly tight, inner lips swollen and slick. She dripped wet, juices coating his chin, cheeks, and tongue. "It's been too long," she finally admitted in a choked whisper against his skin. "I've been wanting to do this ever since the day you lent me your copy of High School DxD, volume one."
The confession, simple and breathtakingly honest, hung between them. From inside the closet came a small sound. A soft, envious sigh. Impossible to tell which of them it was.