The aloof face of the Moon slides up the night sky over the shrine’s roof. The many feminine voices of the flower-viewing party out front are no more than a muted, drunken buzz. A nature-gazing party after dusk sounded a dull idea when brought up first, but the guests have readjusted their attentions as appropriate. When you go back far enough, hops are nature too.

It is with that thought uppermost in my mind that I refocus my own attention on the natural beauty before me. Seated on the back porch of her home, Hakurei Reimu, the shrine maiden of Gensokyo, peeks up at me – pink of face but calm. I rather expected she would call our “breather” off at the first interruption, but no. Instead, she holds the bottom edge of her short, Summer vest pulled up to her chin and says,

“Just the wind. Go on, keep at it. I haven’t all night.”

I nod my assent and wrap my fingers back around my unsated erection. Reimu’s gorgeous, keen eyes lock onto my selfish motions, and she leans back to present me with an even clearer view of her nude chest. There is a certain underbite in her expression, a controlled annoyance, as I resume stroking myself to the sights and shapes of her nudity. It is an underbite I understand. A servant ought never to be serviced by their master. A shrine maiden should never leave her charges to play around. It is why, I imagine, we are both a smidge jumpy. It is why, I presume, Reimu’s cheeks are flushed pink… and her nipples stiff and cherry-red from arousal.

At the back of my preoccupied mind, the wilful little miss Reimu whom I met once years before at somebody else’s behest refuses to concede. She refuses to accept she is one and the same as the ripe, young woman now tamely baring her tits for a man behind her shrine while a besotted reception goes merrily on in her front yard – precluding her supervision. Nor am I without trace mistrust. The Reimu I am gratifying myself to is little no more. Her slim, girlish hips have widened, readying her for childbirth. Her breasts have plumped out beyond even the largest palm-size. Her tongue has taken on an edge and a vocabulary. Her gaze, misty though it may be, shamelessly ravishes the sight of my manhood flexing and throbbing in my fist. Her ample bust rises and falls with each of her short, furtive breaths.

The night is furnace-hot. Sweat pours from us both: mine, down my pumping arm, and Reimu’s – down the valley of her cleavage. There comes a heart-seizing moment as Reimu begins to shift on her seat, sliding into relief as she tugs her vest up and over her head. Her breasts shake and jiggle when she throws the garment aside, hair more than a bit mussed and the shrine maiden – now happily topless. Her youthful, cream skin glistens in the moonlight. Reimu settles again, all smug femininity, this time into a mock-prim pose that sees her hands folded on her lap and her soft tits thrust forward, squished between her arms.

I rise to the bait. I step closer, closer and closer – so close, the tip of my dick brushes the smooth, tight cleft between her plump breasts. Reimu tosses her head: a warning.

“No. Titfucking.” Her voice is arch, but it is the arch of a drawn bow. “I don’t want to have to clean up your mess. Capiche?”

Something in her glare stiffens me rock-hard for a beat, but I endeavour for a coy look and move my dick out of titfucking range all the same. In meagre reprisal, I tap my glans on one of Reimu’s obscenely erect nipples, leaving the areola smeared in precum. The shrine maiden rolls her eyes in a bother, lifting a womanly hand to wipe it off. The process lasts a while, her fingers dithering between their task and smearing my dick-lube in a lazy circle around the carmine peak of her breast. Quickening my pace, I angle myself so that, once it comes, the next sticky glob dribbles all over her undecided digits. Reimu swears under her steamy breath.

“—of a pervert,” she finishes, louder. A string of gooey precum stretches between her nipple and her hand when she pulls it away. “I am not going to blow you,” her lovely lips tell me from under an upturned scowl. “No way. Get it? Quit trying to goad me. I don’t want your taste in my mouth spoiling the sake.”

I mime a spot of the laughs. I haven’t, really haven’t the words to crush her excuse. To reveal the same concerns did nothing to stop her blond friend, even before the party. That I was torn away from the cooking and the sautéing, hauled by the collar and locked in the storage shed – then made to enjoy two intense, sucking blowjobs, one after the other, courtesy of the black-white witch. That, although my first, richer load was milked unceremoniously into an alchemical vial, my second went straight down the witch’s obliging throat. I recall, with rather an unmanly shiver, the gurgling sound of my dick scooping the mixed spit and semen out between her clenched tonsils. And then the wink with which she forewarned me she would have me “fuck her magic pussy” on the donation box once everybody drank themselves asleep.

A promise she will, I know, not keep. And to the good. That donation box is a friend in need.

Reimu appears to read my mind. Or some third of it anyway. Her fantastic, threatening eyes shoot wide – then narrow. “Marisa…?”

I shrug – part to tease her, part to show that I do not mind, either or. That I cannot mind. That should her friends, her guests, ever wish the use of me then I, merely the domestic, do not have the say.

A gleam of possessiveness flares the brown of the shrine maiden’s eyes in response. “But you’re mine,” she protests.

And I am. I was always Reimu’s, even in my tenure… elsewhere. But she needs not know this. And I do not give her the easy purchase, either. I touch the head of my dick to her slimy nipple instead then drag it down the round, vertical slope… until I am once again prying apart her squished cleavage. I slap, poke and prod at the sweaty, too-tight gap: a mute, needy suggestion for my reinforcement. The topless shrine maiden considers me with exasperation. It grows in thunder when inattention loosens her hold on her tits and my hard, precum-glossed tool manages to slip in between. The way eased by my natural lube and her sweat, Reimu’s warm, plush softness envelops first my bared glans, then my shaft, then at last the entirety of my elated dick once I bottom out and those fantastic tits are smushed into my trouserless thighs. The heat of her naked skin on mine is at once hellish and heavenly.

Groaning, I shove in deeper yet, grinding my topmost two inches up along Reimu’s sternum. I let off, hips juddering in pleasure, when the tippiest end of my dick peeks out of her snug cleavage.

At this point, Reimu’s face is a storm cloud. And I love that look on her. It is an odd sentiment to nurse for one liable to wipe me from existence with a negligent thwap of the gohei, but there have been odder things. Such as Reimu’s resigned sigh then whisking the black mood away. The risk of discovery looms still, yes; but then, I suppose I have coerced her right as she has me. It must be difficult for a woman in this circumstance to say no. It must feel petty to deny just this bit of service to a man who rubbed your clit and showed you your G-spot when you were but discovering your sexuality. A man who, throughout your flowering years, served his damnedest as your and your developing body’s stress toy. A man you inevitably forgot, who was now once more before you – pleading voicelessly to let him slide himself in and out between your now fully-grown tits.

I am, of course, not a man. I know I have Reimu’s maiden heart aptly fooled, though, when she raises her hands to grab and press her lush breasts together. The upturn of pressure is merely slight, deadened by the sheer suppleness of her young bust, but enough to coax a squirt of precum from my weakened manhood. It pools around my glans where it is nestled: filling the small, triangular crevice between Reimu’s squeezed breasts and chest. Surprising and electrifying me yet again, the shrine maiden murmurs something unbecoming, opens her mouth, unrolls her tongue – and adds a hefty gob of drool into the blend. Then another. This one she spits at my dick with a vulgar ptui!

Sweet oblivion, but I love this girl. I love her even harder when she cranes her provocative expression up at me. Her bluster betrays her for a single wince once I switch my hands to and grip her bare shoulders. We watch, enamoured both, as I begin to tow my hips back, extracting my dick from her clinging, predatory tits. How my glans vanishes in their plump embrace, the body fluids sinking after it. How inch after inch of my slick shaft glides out from between her pointy, swollen nipples. How my rigid manhood at last pops free – cords of tacky arousal joining its underbelly to Reimu’s sultry valley.

No more barriers to crack, the shrine maiden hefts her breasts and rubs them together for an indulgent while, grazing their stiff peaks on the front of my thighs more than the accidental thrice. At length, she splays her fingers – strengthens the hold – and lifts her tits slightly higher, proffering them for me to fuck. I give my shrine maiden ward an appreciative nod, wedge the head of my dick between her touching nipples and then jog her tanned shoulders – burying myself to the hilt in one, continuous stroke. A startled, though not wholly displeased murmur vibrates out from Reimu’s chest when the imbalance throws her face-first into my nude stomach.

Once she peels herself away, ruffled and blushing, the monogram Hakurei scowl comes home with a vengeance. I wallow in its threat, too turned on for fear, as I set about fucking Reimu’s lewd tits in earnest.

Soon, and the distant sounds of the party are no longer audible over the squishy, slippery sounds of its hostess’s breasts gliding back and forth along my dick. Reimu’s breath degenerates further into gasps of exertion and quiet cussing the longer she is forced to sandwich my pumping girth, but her pride takes the fore in the contest. The pressure on my dick remains steady; and even if the overall sensation – the featureless smoothness of her skin – is nothing to pen ballads about, the fact alone these are Reimu’s tits I’m about to cum from drives me to swing my waist like a horny beast.

Marisa, the witch, may have gotten me off with skilful tongue and lips (and, I do not lie, the flashes of her flat chest inside her low collar), but Reimu… Reimu, my ward, could get me hard simply by being Reimu around my dick. The titfuck is, really, just the flourish on top.

To which I then add my own by freeing Reimu’s shoulders: one hand going for the base of my manhood to wag it up and down between her shiny titties, while the other pinches a hold of one of her perky nipples. The slippery nub fights me; and so, I pinch harder, bullying a pained moan out of the shrine maiden’s filthy mouth. The answering glower tells me everything I may wish to hear. That her body does remember. That this is, in fact, what we used to do. What younger Reimu so often demanded me to do. To tweak and flick the tips of her budding breasts while she played with her barely teenage pussy under her clothes. Often atop me. Often twice, thrice and thrice more – whether I wanted to or no. I recall the sound and timbre of her blissed-out voice. The sordid scent of her squirting orgasms.

I recall the laundry I had to do afterwards.

Immersed in the memory – those salad days of being little Reimu’s sex toy – I near lose my handle on the present, where the same Reimu is now putting her matured bust to use in pleasuring my throbbing, overjoyed erection. She has renounced the breasts I now hold immobile by the nipple and resolved to mash her remaining one into it in harsh, scouring motions which see my rigid manhood rolled and scrubbed by the slippery, velvet goodness. I clench my loins, ready to spoil the approaching climax if it means an additional minute between the shrine maiden’s shiny tits. I am not let to be so clever.

Galled by her subservient role… or my lack of visible gratitude… Reimu calls me something I daren’t even acknowledge and redoubles her efforts toward painting her cleavage in my cum. The girl I once had to explain sex to, now all grown-up and sexier than I can sanely ignore, roughly reclaims her teat from my limping grip. Her perspiration- and precum-smeared breasts slap flush around my hot, edging manhood; and, ahead I can think a thought to the otherwise, Reimu’s tits are jerking me off at an angry, ruthless pace – their erect nipples scraping my abdomen as they bounce up and down my tormented length.

With this restraint, my beloved shrine maiden casts of all others; she grunts and swears in profusion as the titfucks me at obscene speed, lubricant squelching with each rapid stroke. The feeling of being coarsely polished from tip to root leaves my jaw hanging and my ears – thumping. I hear Reimu complain, even so.

“Cum already, you fuck—” There is a dull, faded pause as my attention takes the strategic leave. “—with your stubborn! Fucking! Cock! And stupid mug! Come on! Come ooon,, you—” And once again. “—and don’t you dare! Cum! On my! Tits!” groans Reimu, grinding said tits down my hard-on. “On my face! Capiche? I want you. To go. On my face! Like you used to, remember?”

The vision is a lash across my addled brain. I do. I do remember. Hakurei Reimu’s – the younger Hakurei Reimu’s – entranced ace as she witnesses a man’s orgasm up close for the first time. Unflinching – even when a rope of thick, hot sperm splatters on her dainty nose. And the older, sexier Reimu’s cowl, blurrily overlaid on top.

I erupt, the orgasm slamming into my trapped, sandwiched dick. The initial shot goes wild: jetting out from between Reimu’s tits in a powerful, white arc to waste itself on the patio’s floorboards beside us. The topless shrine maiden scrambles forward – seizes me at my wobbly hips – and shoves her face under my pulsing, cumming dick. I curb the urge to throw my head back and moan my ecstasy at the midnight sky; the sight of my ward’s lips, cheeks, nose and shut eyes taking the brunt of my ejaculation isn’t one I would miss for oblivion. Woozy, I congratulate my manhood; Marisa may have squeezed me dry not hours before but, by the time her titfuck has taken its own toll, Reimu’s face is coated chin to forehead in thick, warm semen. Stripped of everything but immense relief, I tap my softening erection on Reimu’s sticky lips. And, with docility I’d have looked for sooner in Marisa or the doltish half-phantom, Reimu lets me squeeze the remainder of my orgasm onto her indelicate tongue.

So much for that sake.

A groggy minute later, once she succeeds in cracking open one of her eyes, she tells me what she things of it all.

“… Scum.”

I cannot as much as agree before Reimu paws at the sleeve of my undone robe and, to a start of my cleanly heart, begins using it for a towel. I loose an inward groan, skin the thing all way off – and help the tyrannical shrine maiden along. I’d have had to wash somebody’s clothing after tonight at any rate it went; mine was only the last bet. Once her face is squeaky clean, and I have moved on to wipe “my mess” from her amazing breasts, Reimu shocks me once more: standing on her tiptoes and planting a brief, unforeseen kiss on my mouth.

Her eyes twinkle at the colour rising from my jaw. “… Hey, Zashi?” she nigh-whispers. The girl has such a flirty voice when she wants it. “Save up,” she commands me. “OK? Get a nice, big load in you. So we can put it all in here. Like we did all the time when we were younger – remember? It’s still my safe day tomorrow. Should be. Well—” she smirks, “—not like you care, ah? You porked me so often, we must’ve missed the window on at least one occasion.”

I… cannot rock my mental boat one way or the other. Reimu takes my embarrassed silence for consent.

“Great. Love you. Need to go now; Youmu’s likely to start slicing glasses about this hour. Lock up the booze if I pass out. OK? That’s a good man.”

I watch her hurry off along the patio, bust shaking, snatching up her discarded vest as she goes. I watch her squeeze inside it – do up her hair – then round the shrine’s mossy corner to re-join her guests at the processed-nature-viewing party. The black-white witch, the petite vampire, the ghost and the half-phantom, the dollmaker and even the redhead reaper. Colourful personalities all, worthy of the Hakurei’s company.

In moments, I will cease to exist.

Well, no. Nothing quite dramatic. I won’t be spared the awkwardness of pulling my trousers up over my spent, sensitive crotch. But I will fade from Reimu’s mind, supplanted by whatever excuse melds itself of her impressions. I will shed the form she believes me to possess – that of a “man her age;” and she will never have known me until I appear in front of her once more. Uncertain how much her memory of me has eroded this time.

I could curse the world for being so. I do not. Somebody has to pick up the pieces, and the somebody is me.

Because I am what I am. This is my lot in life.

I am Zashi. And I am the Hakurei shrine’s secret Zashiki-warashi.