Eijiro's knuckles rapped against the wood of Mina's door, three sharp beats swallowed by the mansion's nighttime quiet. He held his breath, listening for movement inside, the scent of lemon polish and cut flowers fading beneath his own sharp anticipation.
The door swung open. Mina stood there, her fluffy pink hair loose and wild around her shoulders, a silk robe tied loosely at her waist. The lamplight behind her caught the gleam in her yellow eyes. "Right on time," she said, a slow smile spreading across her dark features. "Thought you might have chickened out."
He let out a rough laugh, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Took me twenty minutes to actually knock."
She reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him forward. "Good thing I'm patient."
He stepped over the threshold, and the door clicked shut behind him, sealing them into the warm, dim space that smelled like her—something floral and sweet, undercut with the faint musk of the day's work.
His eyes flicked to the bed, then back to her face. "So," he started, then stopped. "Today was a lot."
She stepped closer, close enough that the silk of her robe brushed against his shirt. "That a bad thing?"
"No," he said, too quick. "Definitely not."
Her palm flattened against his chest, right over his hammering heart. "You're nervous."
"I just wanted tonight to be about us," he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "Not about them. Not about watching them. Just... us."
Her smile softened, something genuine flickering in her yellow eyes. She rose on her toes, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Then let's make it about us."
The kiss was slow at first. Testing. Her lips were impossibly soft, tasting of mint. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin silk. She hummed against his mouth, and he felt it in his chest, in the tightening of his gut.
She pulled back, just barely, her eyes searching his. "Just so we're clear," she said, her voice low and steady, "I'm not looking for something casual, Eijiro. If you're just here to fuck like this afternoon, you should leave now."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Eijiro's hand found hers on his chest, fingers lacing together. "I'm not here for just tonight," he said, voice rough but steady. "I want more. Way more than just sex."
Her yellow eyes searched his, looking for the lie. Finding none. A slow smile spread across her face, genuine and warm. "Good," she breathed. "Real good."
She stepped back, her hand slipping free of his. The silk robe shifted as she moved, catching the lamplight. "Then you better fuck me so hard tonight I can't walk in the morning."
His breath caught. Heat surged through him, tightening his gut.
"Strip," she said, pointing at the bed. "Lay down. Don't move." She turned toward the bathroom door, her pink hair swishing across her bare shoulders. "I'm gonna change into something special."
The bathroom door clicked shut. He stood there for a beat, heart hammering, then his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Jeans followed, then his boxers. The air was cool against his skin, raising goosebumps across his arms.
He lay back on the bed, the sheets cool beneath him. His cock lay heavy against his thigh, already half-hard, the anticipation building with every second. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds of movement from behind the bathroom door. The rustle of fabric. A drawer opening and closing. The click of a clasp.
The minutes stretched. Each one felt like an hour.
The bathroom door opened.
Mina stepped out, and his breath died in his chest.
She wore a black maid's outfit, but nothing like the one she wore during the day. This was sheer lace and satin, the corset cinching her waist and pushing her breasts up into a deep, dark cleavage. The skirt was short, barely covering her hips, revealing the curve of her thighs and the black garter belt holding up sheer stockings. Her pink hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she had painted her lips a deep, glossy red.
She struck a pose, one hand on her hip, the other holding a small feather duster. "Like what you see?"
He couldn't find words. Just nodded, his mouth dry.
She sauntered toward the bed, the heels of her stilettos clicking against the hardwood floor. Each step was deliberate, a slow, rolling sway of her hips. She reached the edge of the bed, looking down at him sprawled naked across the sheets, his cock now fully hard and aching.
"Good boy," she purred. "Followed instructions perfectly."
She set the feather duster aside and climbed onto the bed, crawling up his body, her lace-covered breasts brushing against his chest. She stopped when her face hovered inches above his, her yellow eyes bright with hunger.
"Now," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips, "How do you want to start, big boy?”
"Like this," he growled, the words tearing out of him raw and hungry. In one fluid motion, he grabbed her hips and rolled, the world spinning, and suddenly she was beneath him, pressed into the mattress, her yellow eyes wide with surprise that melted into approval. His weight pinned her, her legs falling open, the sheer black lace of her corset digging into his chest.
"Oh," she breathed, a sharp exhale, her hands flying to his shoulders. "Someone's impatient."
"Yes, I am," he said, but there was no heat in it, only desperate reverence. He dropped his mouth to her throat, kissing a path down the column of her neck, tasting salt and her floral perfume, feeling her pulse flutter against his tongue. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips.
His mouth moved lower, trailing over the swell of her breasts, the black lace rough against his lips. He reached the edge of the corset, where her cleavage pushed up, dark and inviting. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his red eyes burning. "I've been thinking about these all day."
Her hands tangled in his spiked red hair, pulling him closer. "Then stop thinking and start sucking."
He didn't need to be told twice. His mouth closed over her right breast through the lace, the fabric wet against his tongue, her nipple hardening instantly beneath it. She gasped, her back bowing off the bed, her nails scraping his scalp. He sucked hard, drawing the fabric and her flesh deeper, feeling her shudder beneath him.
"Fuck, Eijiro," she moaned, her hips bucking against his thigh. "Yes."
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his free hand cupping the wet, aching peak he'd just abandoned. He rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching gently, and she cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist.
He pulled his mouth away, the lace clinging to her skin, and looked down at the dark, wet patches he'd left. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her yellow eyes glazed with lust. "Please," she whispered, the word falling from her lips like a prayer.
He shifted lower, his mouth trailing down her stomach, over the corset's rigid edge, until he reached the curve of her belly. He kissed her there, soft and worshipful, before looking up at her. His voice was rough, almost shy. "Can I fuck your tits?"
Her eyes went wide, then darker, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face. "Yes, baby," she purred, her voice thick with approval. "Fuck my tits. I want you to cover them in your cum."
The permission hit him like a shot of whiskey, hot and dizzying. He scrambled up her body, positioning himself on his knees above her chest, his cock jutting out thick and heavy, the head already leaking a bead of clear fluid. She reached down, her fingers curling around the base, and guided him to the valley between her breasts.
She pressed her tits together, the lace and skin molding around his shaft, and he groaned, his head falling back. The heat of her, the softness of her flesh, the way her yellow eyes watched him with hungry anticipation—it was too much. He started to move, his hips thrusting forward, sliding his cock through the tight, slick channel of her cleavage.
His hips found a rhythm, each thrust pushing his cock deeper through the tight, lace-covered valley of her tits. The fabric was wet now, soaked with his precum and her sweat, sliding easier with every stroke. His breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes fixed on the sight below him—her pink hair spread across the pillow, her yellow eyes locked on his, her lips parted and waiting.
"Fuck," he groaned, his pace quickening. The head of his cock emerged past her cleavage on each forward thrust, slick and glistening, the tip swollen and dark. Precum dripped from the slit, a thin, stringy bead that caught the lamplight.
She saw it. Her tongue darted out, pink and eager, and on the next thrust, she caught him.
The tip slid past her lips, just the head, and she sucked. Gently. Once. The heat of her mouth, the soft suction, the way her tongue curled around the ridge—it hit him like a wall, and his hips stuttered, a choked curse tearing from his throat. "Shit—Mina—"
She released him with a wet pop, a satisfied smile curling her red-stained lips. "Keep going," she purred, her voice low and rough. "I want to taste every drop."
He didn't need to be told twice. His hands found her tits, gripping them, pressing them tighter around his shaft as he resumed thrusting. Harder now. Faster. The slap of his hips against her chest filled the room, wet and rhythmic, punctuated by her soft moans and his ragged breathing.
On the next thrust, she caught him again. This time she held him longer, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her tongue working the underside of his head. Precum flooded her mouth, salty and thick, and she swallowed, her throat working around him.
"Jesus Christ," he gasped, his head falling back. His balls tightened, a hot coil winding in his gut. "You're gonna make me cum."
She pulled off, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip. "Not yet," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "I want more."
She pressed her tits together herself, guiding them, her fingers splayed across the lace. The new angle changed everything—the pressure, the friction, the way the head emerged just past her lips with every stroke. She waited, patient, hungry, her tongue resting on her lower lip.
He drove forward, his hips snapping, and she took him again. This time she didn't let go. She met each thrust with a gentle bob of her head, taking him deeper, her lips sliding down the shaft until they met her own cleavage. The sensation was overwhelming—the heat of her mouth, the slick tightness of her tits, the sight of her pink hair bouncing with every movement.
"Fuck, Mina," he growled, his voice breaking. His hand found the back of her head, fingers threading through her curls. Just feeling her there, taking him, worshipping him. "You're so fucking beautiful like this."
Her eyes met his, bright with pleasure, and she hummed around his cock. The vibration shot through him, and his hips bucked, a sharp, involuntary thrust that pushed deeper into her throat. She didn't flinch. She took it, her throat working around him, her eyes never leaving his.
He pulled back, his cock emerging slick and glistening, and she gasped for air, a thin trail of saliva connecting them. "Fuck me," she breathed, her voice wrecked. "Fuck my tits, baby. Cum for me. I want it all over my face."
The words hit him like a command. His grip on her tits tightened, his hips finding a brutal, desperate rhythm. Each thrust was faster than the last, his cock sliding through the slick channel of her cleavage, the head emerging past her lips with every stroke. She caught him each time, her tongue lapping at the tip, her lips closing around the head in a fleeting, searing kiss.
"I'm—I'm close," he gasped, his voice a ragged whisper. His balls drew up tight against his body, the heat in his gut building to an unbearable peak. "Mina—"
"Give it to me," she said, her voice fierce and hungry. "Cover me. I want to feel it."
The first rope hit her cheek. Thick and hot, it splattered across her rosewood skin, catching the lamplight like molten glass. The second caught her lips, and she parted them instinctively, her tongue darting out. The third shot across her nose and forehead, sticky and white, and still his cock pulsed, still it kept coming, a fourth and fifth rope painting her chin and throat, dripping down her neck in rivulets.
"Fuck—fuck—" His voice cracked, his hips still grinding, each spasm of his cock sending another thick ribbon across her face. "Mina—I can't stop—"
A sixth rope hit her tits, landing on the lace and sliding down her cleavage. A seventh splashed across her mouth, and she caught it, her cheeks hollowing as she swallowed, her throat working. The taste of him flooded her—salt and musk and something darker, something desperate.
And still his cock kept coming. An eighth rope hit her cheekbone, running down her jaw. A ninth landed on her tongue, and she took it, moaning around the taste, her yellow eyes wide and fixed on him. The lace of her corset was soaked, her skin glistening, her lips parted and dripping with him.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the stream thinned. A final, weak pulse of white trickled from his tip, landing on her lips, and she licked it clean, her tongue swiping across her mouth in a slow, deliberate motion.
"Jesus Christ," she breathed, her voice husky with awe. She raised a trembling hand to her face, wiping the cum from her cheek, smearing it across her fingers before bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean. "That was—" She laughed, a breathless, disbelieving sound. "That was at least three loads, Eijiro."
He was still on his knees above her, his chest heaving, his red eyes wide and glassy. His cock stood rigid between them, slick with her spit and his own cum, the head dark and swollen, still throbbing visibly with each beat of his heart. Not even a hint of softness. He looked down at himself, then back at her, a bewildered laugh escaping his lips. "I don't—I came twice earlier today."
"I know." She laughed, her fingers sliding through the cum pooled in the hollow of her throat. "You came like you've been saving up for months." She sucked her fingers clean again, her yellow eyes never leaving his. "I've never seen anything like it."
He shook his head, still panting, still hard. "I don't understand it. I should be—" He gestured at his cock. "This shouldn't be—"
"But it is." She reached down, her fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot, almost burning, and his pulse beat against her palm. She squeezed gently, and he hissed, his hips bucking into her grip. "And I want it inside me."
Her voice dropped, the playfulness fading into raw, unfiltered need. "Fuck me, Eijiro. Fuck my pussy hard. I need every inch of you."
"Mina—" His voice was rough, strained. "You sure? I'm—I'm a lot."
"I know. I remember." She released his cock and grabbed his wrist, pulling him down until his body covered hers, the slick mess between them sliding against her skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back. "And I want all of it. I've been thinking about that huge cock since I first saw it today. I want to feel it hit my fucking cervix."
He looked down at her, his red eyes dark with hunger, the last shred of hesitation burning away. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She reached between them, guiding his tip to her entrance. She was soaked, her folds slick and welcoming, the heat of her cunt pulsing against him. "Give it to me, baby. Fuck me hard."
He didn't need to be told twice. He pushed forward, the head of his cock sliding through her wetness, catching on her entrance for a moment before he thrust deeper, burying himself inside her in one long, desperate stroke.
He held there, buried to the hilt, the heat of her gripping him like a fist. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his back, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps against his neck. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're so deep. I can feel you in my throat."
He pulled back slowly, watching his cock emerge slick and glistening. Then he pushed forward again, harder this time, and her head fell back, a broken moan tearing from her lips. "Yeah," she breathed. "Like that. Just like that."
He adjusted his grip, sliding his hands down her thighs and hooking them over his forearms. He pushed her knees up toward her shoulders, folding her in half, the new angle opening her completely. She gasped, her yellow eyes flying wide, and then he thrust—deep and brutal, the head of his cock slamming against her cervix.
"Oh, fuck—" Her voice cracked, her hands flying to the headboard, gripping the wood until her knuckles went white. "Right there—fuck, Eijiro—right fucking there—"
He didn't slow down. He couldn't. The feel of her—the heat, the grip, the way her cunt fluttered around him with every stroke—it had him in a trance, his hips moving in a desperate, punishing rhythm. Each thrust drove him deeper, each impact against her cervix sending a shockwave through both their bodies.
"Harder," she begged, her voice raw and wrecked. "Fuck my cervix, baby. I want to feel it in my womb."
He drove forward, his hips snapping, and felt the give—the tight ring of her cervix parting around the head of his cock, a sudden, wet pop as he pushed past it. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat of her womb gripping him like a second fist, and he cried out, his head falling back. "Shit—Mina—"
"Yes—yes—fuck me—" Her eyes rolled back, her body arching off the bed, a gush of liquid flooding around his cock. "Oh god, I'm—I'm cumming—"
Her cunt clenched around him, a violent, rhythmic spasm that dragged him deeper, and he felt the warmth of her release soaking his thighs, running down his balls, pooling on the sheets beneath them. "Fuck, Mina," he groaned, his hips still grinding, refusing to stop. "You're so fucking wet."
"Don't stop," she gasped, her fingernails raking down his back, leaving red lines in their wake. "Don't you dare fucking stop—keep destroying my pussy—please—"
He obeyed, his thrusts finding a brutal, relentless rhythm. With every deep stroke, his cock pushed past her cervix again, the head emerging into her womb, and every time it did, she came again—another gush of liquid, another violent clench, another broken cry torn from her throat. Her squirt soaked him, soaking the bed, running down her thighs in steady streams.
"Oh god—oh fuck—I can't stop—" Her voice was high and desperate, her body convulsing beneath him, her yellow eyes unfocused and glassy. "It's too much—it's so good—don't stop, don't stop, don't stop—"
He didn't. He couldn't. The sight of her—pinned beneath him, her pink hair plastered to her forehead, her rosewood skin gleaming with sweat and cum, her mouth open in a silent scream—it drove him wild, his hips finding a deeper, harder rhythm, each thrust pushing him past her cervix into the tight, pulsing heat of her womb.
"Cum again," he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel it. I want to feel you soaking me."
She came on command, her body arching, a stream of liquid gushing from her cunt, splashing against his stomach, running down his thighs. "EIJIRO—"
His name tore from her throat, raw and broken, and he felt her grip him tighter, her cunt milking him, her womb clenching around the head of his cock. He kept thrusting, kept pushing past her cervix, kept fucking her through the orgasm, and she kept cumming, her body no longer in control, her squirt a steady, gushing river.
"Please," she begged, her voice a wrecked whisper. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop. I need this—I need you—"
He drove forward, buried himself to the hilt, and held there, his hips grinding, his cock twitching deep inside her womb. Her legs were shaking, her body trembling, her cunt still clenching around him in slow, rhythmic waves. Another gush of liquid flooded around his cock, soaking him, and she gasped, a broken, breathless sound. "Fuck me," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "I've never—I've never cum that many times in my life."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," he growled, his voice low and rough. He shifted his weight, planting his feet flat on the bed and rising into a deep squat above her. The angle changed, his cock pressing deeper, and he felt her cervix give way again, the head sliding into the wet heat of her womb.
"Oh—fuck—Eijiro—" Her eyes rolled back, her body arching. "That's—that's so deep—"
He began to fuck her in earnest, his thighs burning as he drove his hips forward, each thrust a brutal, piston-like stroke. His balls slapped against her ass with every push, the sound wet and obscene in the quiet room. "I'm gonna make you squirt until you can't anymore," he said, his voice strained. "I'm gonna count how many times you cum for me."
"Yes—please—" She was already trembling, her cunt clenching around him, another orgasm building. "Fuck my pussy, baby—fuck it so good—"
He reached down, his hand landing on her ass with a sharp crack. The sound echoed through the room, and she gasped, her body jerking. He spanked her again, harder, his handprint blooming red across her rosewood skin. "That's it," he grunted. "Take it. Take all of it."
She came with a scream, a gush of liquid flooding around his cock, soaking his thighs. Her body convulsed beneath him, her nails raking down his back. "One," he counted, his voice flat and determined. He didn't stop, didn't slow, his cock still driving deep into her spasming cunt. "More. Give me more."
"I can't—I can't—" she gasped, but her body betrayed her, another wave of liquid gushing from her as she came again, shockingly fast. "Oh god—Eijiro—"
"Two." He spanked her again, the sound sharp and wet. "Keep going. I know you've got more."
He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit. It was swollen, hard, slick with her wetness. He pressed down, circling it roughly, and she bucked beneath him, a broken sob tearing from her throat. "Please—please—it's too much—"
"You can take it." He kept thrusting, kept rubbing, his rhythm relentless. "You're gonna cum for me until I tell you to stop."
She came again, her body arching, a stream of liquid spraying from her cunt, hitting his chest, his chin. He laughed, a low, breathless sound. "Three. Fuck, Mina. You're a fucking fountain."
"Eijiro—Eijiro—I can't—" She was babbling now, her words slurred and broken. "Your cock—it's so good—I can't stop cumming—"
He kept fucking her, his squat giving him leverage he didn't know he had, each thrust driving him deeper into her womb. He spanked her again, and she came again, a gush of liquid soaking the bed. "Four."
Her body was trembling uncontrollably, her yellow eyes rolled back, showing only white. Her mouth hung open, a thin line of drool running down her cheek. She was gone, lost in the pleasure, her consciousness reduced to nothing but sensation. "Eijiro," she whispered, her voice distant and dreamy. "I love your cock. I love you. I can't live without it."
"Five." His voice was rough, his own control fraying. "Keep going, baby. Keep cumming for me."
"Marry me," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "Please—marry me, Eijiro. I need you forever. I need your cock in my pussy forever."
The words hit him like a shockwave. His rhythm faltered, his hips stuttering. "What?"
"Marry me," she repeated, her eyes fluttering open, meeting his. They were glassy, unfocused, but there was a desperate sincerity in them. "I mean it. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. Please—say yes—"
He felt the pressure building at the base of his spine, the familiar heat coiling in his balls. "Yes," he growled, his voice breaking. "Fuck—yes—I'll marry you, Mina—"
He drove forward, slamming into her womb, and came. It was like a dam breaking, a torrent of cum flooding from his cock, filling her womb until it distended, her belly swelling with the sheer volume. He kept thrusting, kept pumping, each pulse forcing more cum into her, until it was dripping from her cunt, pooling on the soaked bed beneath them.
She came with him, her body locking up, a gush of squirt mixing with his cum, spilling down her thighs. "Yes—yes—I'm yours—" she gasped, her voice fading into a whimper. "All yours—"
He collapsed on top of her, his body shaking, his cock still buried deep inside her. They lay there, tangled and slick, the only sound their ragged breathing and the soft, wet sounds of their bodies pressed together. Her belly was round and full, visibly distended with his release, and she cradled it with trembling hands, a dazed, blissful smile on her lips.
After a long moment, he stirred, pulling back just enough to look at her. His cock was still buried deep inside her, softening, and he felt her internal muscles flutter around him as she caught her breath. He leaned down and kissed her—slow, tender, tasting the salt on her lips.
"I love you," he murmured against her mouth. "I'm gonna marry you, Mina."
She smiled, her yellow eyes glassy and warm. "You better." She pulled him into another kiss, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against his. The kiss grew hungrier, her hips rolling beneath him, and he felt himself hardening again inside her.
Then came the knock.
Three sharp raps against the door. A muffled voice, worried and familiar. "Mina? You okay in there? I heard yelling—you're not getting murdered, right?"
They froze. Eijiro's eyes went wide, his face immediately flooding with heat. Mina stared up at him for a beat—then burst out laughing, loud and bright and utterly unashamed.
"Denki?" she called out, her voice breathless but steady.
"Yeah! You good? Should I call someone?"
Mina grinned up at Eijiro, whose face was now the color of his hair. He looked mortified, frozen, his cock still buried inside her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and yelled back, "I'm great, Denki! My pussy's just getting murdered by Eijiro's dick!"
There was a sharp gasp from behind the door. Then silence.
Eijiro buried his face in her neck, groaning. "Oh my god," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Oh my god."
Then Denki's voice came again, this time with a laugh in it. "Oh shit! No way! For real?"
"For real!" Mina called back, laughing now. "He's got a huge cock and he knows how to use it!"
"Hell yeah, man!" Denki shouted through the door. "Good for you, Eijiro! Congrats! Keep enjoying yourselves!" His footsteps retreated down the hall, his laughter echoing behind him.
The room went quiet. Eijiro lifted his head, his face still burning. Mina looked up at him, her yellow eyes sparkling with mirth.
"What?" she said, grinning. "He asked."
He stared at her for a second—then the laughter hit him. It started as a helpless chuckle, then grew into a full, shuddering laugh that shook his whole body. He dropped his forehead to hers, still laughing, his hips twitching inside her. "You're insane," he managed. "You're absolutely insane."
"You love it."
"I do," he admitted, his voice soft. "I really fucking do."
She kissed him again, soft and sweet, her hands tangling in his spiked red hair. "I love you, Eijiro. I'm gonna be your wife."
He smiled against her lips. "Yeah. You are."
He pulled her closer, still buried deep inside her, and held her as the last of their laughter faded into the warm, quiet dark.