Miss Keine Kamishirasawa of the history school swept around the staff room like a maître d’ moments before a bomb went off in the kitchens. The pageant of her done-up raincoat coming more and more undone by the jiggle would have been more arresting if Miss Keine hadn’t been apologising profusely or, for preference, doing what she was apologising for, which was to say producing from the cabinets of the room ever more pressing paperwork. On the broad, military-style desk by the staff room’s single, rain-greyed window, assignments and typeset fill-in-the-blanks piled up architectonically.

“Thank you once again,” said Miss Keine with rattlesnake speed; “and, once again, I am sorry. This really, really is an emergency. I’ll make this up to you, of course I will. Thank you. And, I’m sorry. This is the last set, promise.”

A thumb-tick file thumped on the desktop, fanning out its immediate neighbours. It looked not unlike a card-riffling accident.

The man behind the desk stared. A faint smile hovered around the outskirts of his lips. It was a smile that met your daughter’s mysterious boyfriend of two weeks. He twirled a fountain pen between his fingers as though contemplating deforestation.

“… It’s,” he said, manfully self-controlled, “fine, Miss Keine. All in the job description, isn’t it… just?”

The flurried teacher gave his odd pause no second guess. She bowed as low as her waist. “I’m so sorry, Taiki!” There was some consternation as her coat popped suddenly half-open, but soon gone. Miss Keine straightened up and smiled in a distracted way. “It is the Kijou; their son is marrying a very conscientious woman next week, and they wanted my eye over the wedding contract. The parents, too, have some qualms, I hear, since they are nobility and the girl hails from priestry; there is the matter of the dowry for that cause, or omitting thereof, religious clauses, landing issues, vows, it’s a right mess…”

Taiki nodded along to the teacher’s bumbling, wearing an expression made from his work. He held his breath like a thrashing fairy.

In the woodchip-scented, under-desk gloom, the fingers which’d hooked under his already lowered trousers skinned them down his knees and to the ankles. His underwear wasn’t far late in following. There was movement in the metaphorical underworld and then a quite forcefully literal spreading of Taiki’s helpless thighs. Cum-foamed lips slid flush around the bare glans of his dick, already distressing his renewed erection to its root. Overgrown fingernails scratched along his naked haunches. A thankfully faint, erotic smack marked the lips’ unthankfully resumed caress of his third hard-on of the afternoon. A soft, wet and exceedingly hot tongue lapped his engorged tip before retracting, lousy with precum, to make way.

Taiki’s self-control flexed its cordy muscles. He looked at the fair if hard teacher who paid his wages while, down below and out of her sight, advances were paid in liquid currency to every inch of his cheerful shaft as they passed between airtight lips and into a sultry and tremendously well-practiced mouth. Inch behind inch behind inch. He’d hit tonsils at this pace before Miss Keine might take her leave – and leave. His loins clenched.

And there the tonsils were, tight as a virgin slit against his tip. Taiki let go of a last-ditch grunt, his dick throbbing top to bottom, desperate to feel those lips wrap around its base and the tonsils squeezing past the ridge of its glans. Saliva and old dick-lube from the previous, interrupted blowjob slobbered down the lonely span of his shaft from the loosened, teasing mouth. The tongue undulated against his dick’s ridged underbelly, up and down, up and down, goading fresh precum up his urethra. With more than moderate success.

“Come again? Taiki?”

Miss Keine’s question marks could do to a young man what it takes quite a bit of voltage and a washbasin to do to an old one – and she’d used two. Taiki scrunched up what he’d fancied his long-buried schoolboy alongside an earthy swathe of his face. Downstairs, his hips lifted into the suction, begging mutely for the deepthroat even if it should blow their cover collateral with his load. He laid down his pen and gave the kind of anguished expression which was equally as false as it was unfeigned.

“… Crap,” he croaked, much to the teacher’s incisive frowning. “Crap, Miss Keine,” he repeated, carried on the audacity. “Got to go… do, before I sit down to this. Sorry for being so blunt; you’ve been tarrying forever, so I’m in a mess here. Almost. Sorry,” he added dutifully.

There was a creak of stiff mores as the square-toed teacher plotted her way around the objectionable nature of bodily functions.

“I… understand,” she ruefully conceded. “Yes. Um. I am sorry—”

“Go, Miss Keine. I’ll care for things here. That’s what you have me for. Yes? No?”

Her underbite slotted back into her dainty jawline. She looked at Taiki’s familiar, reliable and above all pleading face.

“Of course,” she sighed. Then said it again, as though unconvinced the first time around: “Of course. If you will…”

“I will, Miss Keine.”

“… If you will, please do keep the fire in the water heater going. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Mokou may come by nearer the evening; please tell her if she does I oughtn’t be longer than sundown. There’s leftover donburi on the stove. She may reheat it on the stove or… she may reheat it.”

“I’ll pass it on, ma’am,” said Taiki, feeling bony arms slither round the small of his back. Hard, erect nipples scraped up the insides of his thighs. The steamy duress on the crown of his dick was turning coercive. The cum-slick lips suckled his shaft like an anatomically incorrect teat. “I’ll… pass on…”

Miss Keine’s uprightness didn’t budge even as she turned around, except a wobble of her decloaked bust.

“Then if you’ll excuse me…”

Taiki maturely excused the officious teacher as she trotted in her platform shoes (“Height ever equals authority in tradition,” to hear her tell it) for the staff room’s exiting door. There was a nod, a twist of the handle, a mouthed apology since this was Miss Keine, and then she was through.

The door hadn’t sooner shut behind her than the mouth under the desk dropped precipitously down his shaft, tonsils parting, plunging his raw glans into the wet, cramped gullet beyond like the head of an exceptionally demoralising battering ram. The lips rendezvoused the meaty foundations of his spire, smooching his hilt and crotch like a spurned lover and spurned themselves before the unreal heat and pressure of the throat engulfing the top half of his bare dick. Taiki counted seconds, nails biting the insides of his fists, before Miss Keine attained the school’s front entrance and the edges of the picture.

Upon the twentieth and a distant screech of misaligned hinges, the history school’s trainee attendant cuffed the laden desktop, knocked back his chair, scrambled to his feet and, gripping the slab of wood as though it were his own, thrust down against the face making out with his erection. He didn’t get more than a finger’s width deeper into the oppressively stifling, airless throat but received a frantic little gurgle from below, and that seemed adequate payback.

Taiki groaned his satisfaction, bridled his every faculty… and then groaned on several more counts as he hauled his pulsing dick out of the throat, back past the tonsils, along the tongue and out the clinging, sucking lips. Spittle sprayed the office carpet once the tip popped free, tainted white and portending a future of scrubbing. The sheer momentum of escape threw Taiki backwards onto his chair.

Miss Mokou stumbled out from under the desk on all-threes, the remaining hand vigorously busy inside her suspender pants.

He hadn’t agreed to this. The fuzzy agreeableness tingling along his every fibre – not bypassing the moral one – was a bastard and not to be entertained. Taiki glared doggedly at Miss Keine’s long friend, panting appropriately. Miss Mokou’s threadbare, off-white shirt was undone, leaving her middling but appetisingly perky bust framed between the galluses of her pants. As were her forehead, lips and chin, there too was slathered in the sticky previous hour’s yield: ropes of cum bridging the twin hills of her breasts and smeared film-thin where she’d kneaded it into their rosy peaks. A worry-free half-smile occupied the aforesaid features of her face, the same she’d worn when first inveigling Taiki in her fancies, with no signage of going home. It did jerk once on its flatter side when she’d hit a better spot than most in her relentless schlicking, but that was it.

The history school didn’t open its coffers – or, realistically, Miss Keine’s purse – for him to contend with this. Taiki’s job, which his employer had been in tears to have found anybody interested in taking, lay in sheaves on the desk, the shelves and inside the occasional water heater. A randy, young woman in pantaloons hadn’t featured anyplace but for the background of these quotidian tasks: sometimes lounging at the back of the class, sometimes playing roughshod dodgeball with the boys, being on occasion pampered by Miss Keine’s overspilling maternal instinct. They’d exchanged the spontaneous pleasantries – but never bodily fluids.

Then Miss Mokou had caught him with the pants down, where the pants had been Miss Keine’s rare and unprompted, earlier knocking-off time from the school. Taiki hadn’t expected to do more than polish off his scribal work and close up. Miss Mokou had. She’d just released the children home from what surely hadn’t been an off-the-cuff economics class in the schoolyard if her dirtied clothes and scuffed elbows were telling – and had found Taiki afoul in the staffroom of fixing to sour their moods on the morrow with very fair grades on their latest quizzes.

There’d been the quid pro quo of statuses usual of vaguely acquainted adults in a workplace, the bonding snicker over the term “blooming devils,” a question after the schoolmistress and then Miss Mokou’s seating herself sideways up across on Taiki’s desk. And a pause threaded through with somebody’s future stern talking at home.

“… Got groped again by one of the elder boys,” Miss Mokou had said after a consideration. “Tai… chi? Kid with a name alike to yours. Grabbed my tits full-on while we was tangling for the ball. Third time this week; it’s growing tricky to shrug off.”

Taiki had looked up… and then farther up. “That,” he’d tactfully decided, “had best be complained about to Miss Keine, not me.”

The tousled Miss Mokou had canted her head, owllike, to meet the suggestion with a likewise blink. “Complain, huh?” She’d given it a thought. Singular. “No. No, no. The kid’s just at that age. Can’t pretty well help it. Give ‘im yet a few years; he’ll be over it hoppity-skip and some experience under his belt to boot. No skin off my teeth. It’s just the… the wossname, human condition for you.”

“Sure, ma’am,” Taiki had granted. He’d said it quite politely but squeezed enough lemon into his voice to shrivel weeds or, in this instance, apprise Miss Mokou of her linguistic confusion precluding the need for a spade. “Sure, no need. No harm, no foul,” he’d added, eyes withdrawing where they’d been hired to be.

“Mm. A bit of foul, actually,” Miss Mokou had revised.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. I’m turned on as all hecks. Nips-poking-through-the-shirt turned on. Could go for a quickie... or, heck, a fingerbang.”

A furious, red line had stroked through a kanji that’d effect much technical debate later on.

Taiki had cleared his throat – if not his conscience. “… Go rub one out?”

At which Miss Mokou had snorted, “Wiseass. What’d you reckon I’ve been doing hitherto? Gets dull. I’m no epitome of imaginativeness; toys from fertility festivals only go so far. Can’t bugger the kids and call it education, either – much as they’d jump me. Keine’d gore me to death. Hah.”

“Sure there are men in the village—”

“Men who talk,” Miss Mokou had sighed. “And I’ll be around far longer than any. Can’t have that rumour mill trundling after me; don’t need the attention. Nor more fools needing out of the Forest of the Lost. No, no. Those won’t do. But. But…”

“… But?”

“But you…”

Taiki had gone hot and cold all at once: regularly something that’d warrant seeing a doctor or at least a philosopher, but on which Miss Mokou had turned an indifferent back. Or, for preciseness’s sake, the front. Legs had swung. Unshod feet slapped the armrests on either side of Taiki. The student’s essay had suddenly a red, flipped-V-shaped headline to it.

“You,” Miss Mokou had gone on overhead; “you wouldn’t talk. You like it here. Your numbers, your books. Always wanted to be in Keine’s shoes. Up on that lectern. Tapping the… wossname, stick thing on the blackboard as you, what, pass on the torch of civilisation to the younger generations?”

Taiki had blushed. Then determined he hadn’t. “Since I was the younger generation myself. Yes. Indeed. Thank you,” he’d reeled off. “Was there a point attached to that or was I meant to prick myself solely on your toenails?”

Miss Mokou had laughed, the kind of laugh that raises the corners of a man’s mouth against his stoicism. “See?” she’d commended him. “You know how to talk; you don’t just do it. Meaning you’ll know not to when Keine asks about what we’ve been up to back here. That is if you want to keep the job. That girl has starch for blood, bless her.”

“Is this,” he’d asked, leery, “the storied ‘blackmail,’ Miss Mokou?”

“It is a very real threat.”

Taiki had sat back in his chair, twirling his teacherly-empowered pen and then, because petty vengeance was a fearsome allure, scraped an error line where his learning promised Miss Mokou’s soleus ought to be, but where he’d found mostly rather a cute ankle. He’d harrumphed. It’d been the harrumph of a scholar who’d spotted a misprint in an opponent’s thesis and wasn’t about to be understanding.

“We have not, Miss Mokou, been ‘up to’ anything. Got it on good authority.”

“Not yet,” she’d admitted; “but, you’ll be groaning and slamming your cock balls-deep inside me right on this desk in a minute, so it’s a void argument.”

Taiki had pinched his eyes shut, determined to lay upon the obscene girl the iciest stare on this side of the Kelvin scale. It would melt on Miss Mokou’s unbuttoned neckline and truthful description of the state of her shirt. He’d faced down a lifetime of knowing Miss Mokou’s nipples were the colour of cherry candy and could get just as hard. Nowhere, however, as hard as the erection raised in his trousers once Miss Mokou had pushed into them with the erroneous foot. She’d had them undone and his tip peeking out the band of his underwear in a trice. The band had then been peeled, with apelike dexterity, down his vainglorious length, bumped all along by Miss Mokou’s bare toes.

“Ah-ha,” she’d said, taking in every stout inch he’d had to offer. “Nice cock.”

“Gosh, thanks,” Taiki had said, wondering how many years he’d been stopping himself picking up his socks with his feet. “You’re no slouch yourself. Miss Mokou, listen; I must have you warned. I’ll not be of… too much help, here. Got me?”

Miss Mokou had, in fact, gotten him – altogether too swiftly for his self-esteem. “Ah. A virgin, have we?” She’d waited a reply and, when one hadn’t come, one had come. “All right. No problem. This is to the good, actually; we’ll save your cherry for your spouse. In return, I’ll show you a thing or a dozen about making girls squeal you won’t have learned in school.”

Taiki had looked around with ostentation. Miss Mokou had guffawed. A button had popped on her shirt as if conniving.

“… And you,” she’d gone on to say, picking the rest herself, “you’ll help me brush up my oral. Must be half a century since I sucked a cock on the regular… let alone wanted to. Hands, mouth, no sex. No butt-stuff. Kissing is fine if you’re willing to learn tongue. Sound like a deal?”

“Between the three of us,” Taiki had said with a nod his nether-wise, “I reckon I’m being left out of the talks.”

“Then let us two wiser ones,” Miss Mokou had advanced, sliding off the desk and going to her knees smack between his, “persuade you of the merits.”

The merits had turned out plentiful: all over Miss Mokou’s face and hair in the main. And, come the next occasion they’d wound up together outside Miss Keine’s purview, Taiki would find himself standing in the middle of the staff room with his arms full of Miss Mokou, of which one down Miss Mokou’s pants and giving Miss Mokou’s lessons right back to Miss Mokou’s instructive place, striving all the while not to cum inside his own pair from hotdogging Miss Mokou’s modest but decently supple rear. She’d forgo Miss Keine’s lectures in favour of whisking Taiki away for private classes in the school’s athenaeum: often lengthy as the lectures themselves, recurrently covering the methods of pepping up a dick that’s just gone off a third time in a row between a girl’s breasts and concluding nearly always with the questions of: “Where’s the damn, cough, damn towel?” and “How many times’d I tell you, you pervert, not to splurge in my hair?! I’ll cook you!”

Over a fortnight Taiki’s middle and ring fingers had grown more acquainted with the sensations of Miss Mokou’s wringing orgasms than they’d been with the insides of his mum’s preserve jars. And little tyke Taiki had loved preserves.

In not so many words, he and Miss Mokou had become something for which the woman closest to them both had found the term “chummy.”

Taiki was more partial to “the end of one of us.”

And several months later he thought it hadn’t ever rung truer than today. The masturbating Miss Mokou on the floor wasn’t the ugliest harbinger of doom mythology supplied, but Taiki would’ve wished his death remained of the smaller and staggered variety. Osculating in the staff room with a class underway beyond the door had been cutting it close; maintaining a hard-on with Miss Keine scurrying around had been taking scissors to his balls-hair. Cultured right until you slipped. Then there’d come screaming.

Now hindsight had given it the chance to strut its hour, Taiki savvied onto that he would’ve risked a dozen headbutts to his Corinthian helm to cum to Miss Keine’s attempts to cram her bust inside a coat two fingers too tight. Miss Mokou may have owned his dick from the word “quickie,” but lately she’d been burning her brand onto his soul. The brand was a certain rude shape.

The chair, which, miracle of miracles, hadn’t gone lame under Taiki’s plummeting backside was put through the longer haul as the corrupt school assistant wiggled his feet out of the peeled-down underpants and trousers. His dick, having weathered the danger and only come out harder for the experience, throbbed in his hand once Taiki stood and gave it a reinforcing stroke. Saliva and precum stuck his shaft to the partner who’d never again satisfy him like it’d used to.

Ahead of him Miss Mokou, who very much would, climbed wordlessly from her knees and up to a spread-legged squat. Taiki stepped forth until his shins were braced against the insides of her thighs and his erection lay latitudinally across the girl’s upturned face. There was rather a beatific sigh for a place of learning, and Taiki could feel the brand sizzling on his spirituality. Miss Mokou radiated lust. Moreover what Miss Mokou radiated was also a smell that could’ve caused a room of schoolmarms to implode. It was the reek of sweat and smoke; it was the pancake-batter tang of cum bathing her face and breasts; over everything else, it was the sordid stink of a girl who’d been masturbating in her clothes for near on an hour without taking them off. Gods of Gensokyo alone knew, and they weren’t telling, how Miss Keine hadn’t smelt the nasty oral sex transpiring under her trainee’s desk. Or seen her friend’s dowdy, ankle-length hair sticking out any-old-how from below.

The aforesaid sex recommenced right now, with Miss Mokou thrusting out her tongue for Taiki to ride his veiny length along. He did so and not one inch less, reapplying her warm spit all down his dick’s underbelly from the slimy pad. Miss Mokou disapproved, as women were wont to – and redid the chore for him harder, wetter, twice over and rounding off with a sloppy kiss on the part which got naughty girls like her pregnant. She swallowed the collected precum with a gulp, glad as pig in a muddle.

Taiki thumbed her happy chin and, retributing the smug smile, gave her a sharp slap on the cheek. Hurting girls in hot blood wasn’t his cup of tea, and actually hurting such girls as were capable of advanced pyromancy wouldn’t have wriggled into his meal unless he were stranded in an ice desert about to freeze, but Miss Mokou was threaded differently. Miss Mokou purred, squirming from the neck down – and sped the fingers excavating inside her pantaloons. Taiki could hear her precious place squishing and squelching around them. He smelt it when Miss Mokou withdrew the hand to twiddle one of her erect, pinchable nipples. It was overpowering. It made his dick flex and him want to renege on longstanding promises.

… Again.

But Taiki’s libido was self-possessed enough to know where to draw the line. A thick, curving one from Miss Mokou’s chin up to her forehead and over one eye. She pecked a languid kiss on the flank of his shaft as if consenting this was a pertinent spot to rest a dick.

“… Shaving it a little close, there,” he opined.

Miss Mokou hadn’t quit fiddling with her erogenous zones with Miss Keine in the room; she wasn’t about to with her outside of it. “Shaving is for prissy princesses,” she shot back. “I like it hairy.”

As you’re privy went unsaid.

“‘Hairy’ is right,” granted Taiki. He’d been contriving to shift a leg and rub Miss Mokou’s hairy place for her through her pants, but the girl joggled too much. Not unexplainably; the frisky peaks of Miss Mokou’s otherwise unpretentious breasts were so sensitive he’d once flicked them both and gotten kneed something livery for his efforts. The buds of making her cream her pants right there with his dick laid across her face were alas nipped. “… Too right,” he grunted. “What would you have done if she’d noticed? Huh, Miss Mokou?”

“Dodged first of—fff, everything,” she replied, an involuntary bite nipping the sentence’s tail. Heated breath swept around Taiki’s shaft in a series of gusts. “Try and lie to me, boy,” dared the dick-huffing Miss Mokou; “you wanted to fuck my throat then and there.”

“There is seldom a ‘then’ when I do not want to fuck your throat, Miss Mokou,” said Taiki, the vulgar words greased in their coming out by ongoing circumstance. “It is the ‘there’ where I raise concerns. In front of my boss nurturing more than one. It’s my livelihood, you see; it depends.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘no.’”

Taiki scoffed. “Your throat’s the best girlfriend I’ve ever had, Miss Mokou; I wouldn’t hazard a break-up over a word.”

Miss Mokou gave him a scorching look. This was a possible non-euphemism where Miss Mokou was mixed up, but was in this case mercifully hyperbolic. “… It’s the only girlfriend you’ve had, you prick,” she reminded.

Of whom he was thoroughly undeserving by the writ of fire in Mokou’s eyes – even if her mouth did form a cock-fitting O through which to court his girlfriend while cheating on her flagrantly with Miss Mokou’s lips and tongue. Taiki backed out his dick to where she may go about swallowing it at her own leisure, emboldened by the back-and-forth and wondering, not for the first time, where such a hermetic woman had stepped in her irrumation streak.

He was obliquely aware of Miss Mokou’s “condition,” the way a scientifically read man is aware of religion. It was there, it wasn’t communicable, so he left it to the carrier to manage. On the one occasion he’d questioned out loud the interplay between the purported long-livedness and Miss Mokou’s procreative itches, she’d annexed his lap and tongued him fiercely for long, suffocating minutes ahead she’d answered in fluent (if breathless) ontological:

“Centuries pass; fancies crop up. Out of the world, out of the torpid mind. They run their course, rarely stay. The brain loathes routine. It is how it is.”

It was the wossname – the human condition.

“I’ve had so many phases I’d make the Moon blush pink. Now never ask me again, booky boy, and buy that elder student a dance or something. And take out that fat cock, already. I can tell it’s gone up.”

In the abstract, he was the convenient outlet for Miss Mokou’s inconvenient currents.

The snub should have unmanned him. The firm concurrence of his man-bits stayed that from being the case. What goes around, after all, comes around. If not thumped with a book it may occasion fancying. And then you got this.

Miss Mokou’s lips pursed on the glans of his dick. The white foam at their corners was pushed aside as they slid on down along the exposed, pink stretch men dreaded and craved having touched and then the bulging, mouth-cramming meat of the shaft. Miss Mokou paused, screwed her head left to right to left as though to fine-tune the angle of entry and lastly turned her eyes up in what might’ve been a coquettish way if she hadn’t sincerely believed coquettes to be a kind of exotic and grotesque food. Their gazes met; and Taiki felt a tremor somewhere in the area of his reasonableness in addition to his manhood’s.

Miss Mokou looked fantastic sucking dick. It may have been a crude view to hold (and suicidal to release), but not unaccountable. Miss Mokou came from the genus of Gensokyan woman you would’ve given a wide berth in the street if her mass of hair (that you could see), stride, and voluminous pants hadn’t been purpose-made to fill out any berths given. She was confidence on legs and, thus, the natural anthesis to scholastic, inkhorn men like Taiki. He hadn’t considered her above a loosely female-shaped accessory to the workplace until she’d displayed to him how, in fact, productively that confidence worked under his “nice” but equally book-learned dick. She wasn’t his type but then, he’d suspected, he wasn’t hers either, and they’d gotten off very fine. That being the uppermost thing on Miss Mokou’s mind these days anyhow.

How the assertive fellatio – or all its heretofore iterations had – propelled her to this end was anybody’s except Taiki’s body’s guess; still and all, even his water-thin testosterone couldn’t dilute the spice of such a puissant woman giving her facial features over wholesale to his pleasure. The thousand-year-old, placid stare upwards of her stuffed, puckered lips drove his dick to palpitations. Had he not spewed already over a pint of precum altogether down Miss Mokou’s throat, today could have been a head start. The luckier part of his dick marinating in the salivary spa of her mouth made fast work of it all over the back of Miss Mokou’s coddling tongue. She swallowed – and then swallowed some more, throat rippling – stretched the cocksure mouth wide open – and threw her nose for a meeting with his groin.

To add to his bulkily erudite nature, the pervert deities of Gensokyo had seen fit to endow Taiki with a voice like a rutting bear’s. The only part of him complimented both by Miss Keine and Miss Mokou came out in its volume as the ram-head of his dick plugged the latter admirer’s airways in the wake of a choked “Nngk—!”

Taiki staved off his eyes’ rolling backwards in their sockets from the shunt of bliss from her tonsils skidding down his shaft with a rock-ribbed man’s will. He might never see those ribs until buried for a well few weeks; but still, he hadn’t cut down on after-work dango and taken to doing sit-ups at bedtime not to avail himself now of the sacrifice’s results. Which were, to wit, the clear, unobstructed view of Miss Mokou’s pale lips closing around the very base of his furiously stiff dick.

So stiff, he’d hardly felt the strangling grip of Miss Mokou’s gullet on its happier end until she’d begun, without relenting the pressure, to haul it back out of her throat. The ridge of his helplessly bare glans wedged stuck on the walls of her constricted passage – even as her lips worked the dick’s opposite end with bouts of halting, gruelling suction. Her spit-wet tongue flicked out between them and the rigid girth of his shaft: half to lube it up for smoother removal and half to enhance the seal on her sucking lips. All throughout this, Miss Mokou stared up at Taiki, as unruffled as her hair wasn’t. The latter of whom presently clutched a fistful of the aforesaid and pulled – almost to the point of pain.

Then, by desperate degrees, past it.