"Nope, I will take them off myself!" Makoto slowly unclasped Ayane's bra, taking the chance to enjoy her breasts. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as his fingers found the clasp of her bra. Her confident, teasing facade shattered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of raw vulnerability.
The bra came away, and her breasts, full and heavy and soft, spilled into his hands. Her nipples were a deep, dusky pink, already hard. She closed her eyes, a shiver running through her.
"You... you can't just..." she began, but her protest died in her throat as he leaned down, his hands sliding down her stomach, her hips, her thighs. Finally, he leaned down and pulled her panties down. It slid down her legs with a soft sound, pooling at her feet.
Ayana stood there, naked. Yuna just watched, a possessive glint in her eyes. Mika just smiled, a serene smile that was both beautiful and calculated. And Mafuyu just stared, her mouth slightly open, a deep blush on her cheeks.
Ayane finally opened her eyes. They were dark, hooded, and blazing with a fierce fire. "So," she whispered. "Now what?"
"I can't leave you standing there naked alone, can I?" He winked back at Yuna and Mika. "Come here, you both."
Mika needed no further encouragement. With a gentle smile, she gracefully stood and shed her remaining clothes. She stepped out of them, a vision of pale, lean muscle and quiet confidence.
Yuna, however, hesitated. She was still in her sports bra, a last, flimsy bastion of her tsundere pride. She looked from his expectant gaze to Ayane's naked form, to Mika's nudity. A deep, furious blush consumed her entire face.
"I'm not... I'm not just going to strip because you told me to, you damn pervert!" she snarled, but there was no real heat in it. It was a token, pathetic protest.
"Oh, for god's sake," Ayane sighed. She walked over to Yuna, her movements fluid and confident. She didn't ask or tease. With a quick, efficient motion, she reached out and unhooked Yuna's bra.
Yuna let out a high-pitched, indignant squawk, her hands flying up to cover her perfect breasts. "H-Hey!" Ayane just ignored her, her hands already at the waistband of Yuna's shorts.
A moment later, the three of them were standing before him, totally naked.
"Well?" Ayane said, her voice low. She put an arm around Yuna, a gesture that was both comfort and claim.
Yuna just stood there, a beautiful shade of crimson, her mind still short-circuited by the relentless assault of her sister-wives.
"The team's all here, darling," Mika added softly. She took Yuna's other hand. "What're you going to do to us?"
"Nice, it's time for another game, of course." Makoto lay down, his cock erect, and used Ayane's purple bra as a makeshift blindfold. "The game is called... guessing the pussy that's riding me. Does that sound good?" He smirked challengingly.
Intake of breath rippled through the room. The sheer depravity of his request hung in the air.
Ayane was the first to break the silence. A low, throaty laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, you are a fucking genius," she breathed. "A blind taste test? I love it."
"It's disgusting," Yuna muttered, but her cheeks were flushed a furious red, and her eyes were sparkling with wicked, competitive light. "And totally unfair. Mine is obviously the best. It's just a waste of time."
Mika just smiled. "An excellent way to test... how well he knows us," she said softly. "And his loyalty." She looked at Yuna, then at Ayane, a silent challenge in her eyes. "Who wants to go first?"
Mafuyu, who had been a silent, wide-eyed observer, finally spoke. "...Can I... can I play, too?" she whispered, her voice so small that Makoto can't hear it.
The other three girls all turned to look at her at the same time. For a moment, there was stunned silence. "Of course," Ayane said with an amused purr. She winked at Mafuyu. "The more, the merrier."
"Fine," Yuna grumbled. "But I'm still going first."
Oblivious to what they had said, he covered his ears with his hands. "Come on, let's get started. Don't make too much noise, or I can easily recognize your voice."
He plunged himself into a world of darkness and muffled silence. He could hear the faint thumping of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears. The only other sensations were the cool air on his skin and the hard, expectant throb of his erection. He was a blind, deaf, willing sacrifice on the altar of his own depravity.
Makoto could feel a shift in the air, a subtle change in the pressure of the room as someone moved. A soft rustle of fabric as someone kneeled beside the futon. And then, a weight. A pair of knees, firm and toned, landed on either side of his hips.
The weight was light, athletic. A soft, hesitant touch as she guided him. Her hands were cool and steady, her fingers long and elegant.
And then, she lowered herself onto him. She was tight. Not the desperate grip of a first-timer, but the controlled strength of an athlete. Her inner walls moved with small, subtle movements, a testament to a body in perfect control.
She began to move with a slow rhythm. She was exploring and learning, like a scientist conducting an experiment.
Her scent was faint: a clean smell of soap and a hint of something floral and faint perfume. She didn't make a sound. Her breathing was a soft, even rhythm, a quiet counterpoint to his own ragged gasps.
"Hmm, this must be... Mika, aren't you? I'm surprised Yuna didn't take the first turn," he giggled, thrusting his cock deep into that cunt, where he remembered Mika's weak points were.
A sharp, strangled gasp was torn from her throat, a sound she immediately tried to stifle. Her entire body went rigid, her feigned composure shattering in a wave of sensation. Her hips, which had been moving with slow, deliberate precision, suddenly bucked, a frantic, desperate rhythm against his own.
He was right, it was Mika. And he had found her weakness. Her inner walls, which had been so tight and controlled, now clenched and pulsed around him in a series of desperate, involuntary spasms. Her carefully constructed, serene mask was gone, replaced by raw need.
Mika tried hard not to scream or moan. She just made a series of small, choked whimpers, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. And then, as if she couldn't help herself, she leaned down, her breath hot and sweet against his ear.
"...Cheater..." she whispered. "You... you remembered..."
Her hips, which had been a whirlwind of motion, now became a slow, deliberate grind. She wasn't trying to win anymore. She was just... enjoying the fall.
Makoto kept thrusting until he burst into her, filling her up. Mika collapsed onto his chest, a boneless, trembling wreck. She just lay there, a warm, pliant weight, her breathing ragged and uneven, without saying any words. Her entire body was humming with the aftershocks of an orgasm so powerful it had short-circuited her brain.
After a long, shuddering moment, Mika slowly, reluctantly slid off him, her movements a little unsteady. The cool air on his skin was a stark contrast to the wet, engulfing heat of her body.
"Next, and don't make it so obvious this time," he groaned, his cock still hard after his climax.
The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the soft rustle of movement. And then, a new weight.
This one was different; it was lighter and softer. Her knees, when they landed on either side of his hips, were rounder. Her hands were smaller, her touch a little more hesitant. She guided him with a shy, clumsy grace.
And when she lowered herself onto him, the sensation was different. She wasn't as tight as Mika. She was... wetter, warmer, like a comfortable, almost familiar fit. Her inner walls were a gentle, passive embrace, a stark contrast to Mika's active, aggressive grip.
She began to move in a slow and lazy rhythm. Her scent was a cloud of sweet perfume, a mix of strawberries and vanilla, and a musky scent that was uniquely hers. The faint, almost metallic tang of a girl who was always turned on.
She didn't make a sound, but Makoto could feel her. A small tremor ran through their entire bodies. A silent testament to the pleasure she was feeling.