Keitaro's relationship with the girls at the dorm was, on the most simple day, beyond complicated. They hated him. They loved him. They liked having him around. They tolerated him. And that was even before he got into it all on an individual basis. None of this was helped by his suddenly having two conflicting sets of memories where things didn't quite match up, nor was it especially helped when he heard a drunken "Whoopsie!" and his slightly bowed face was suddenly introduced to soft, yielding cleavage of the sort that makes a young man's mind go blank.
"Hey, Kei-Kei!" Mitsune giggled. Even though his face was predominantly preoccupied with breast flesh at the moment, he could still smell the reek of alcohol. In fact, it was a wonder he hadn't noticed her sooner. He was feeling slightly inebriated merely being in her presence. She cradled his head. "Aww, you're such a cutie when you're shy (hic)."
"Mifume yo phunk!" If we translated that from mumblese into English it would be "Mitsune, you're drunk!" Curiously, she didn't seem to have any trouble understanding him at all because -
"Yep! Drunker than a glass of water in the desert!" she slurred and swayed and pulled Keitaro into her room, spun him around while holding his face into her cleavage. "Or is that dessert? Either way I want ice cream."
Now, it seemed like a rather good idea, at least to Keitaro, that he should perhaps extract himself from Mitsune's marshmallow hell. Or heaven. It was pretty nice down here, and she'd actually left him enough room to breathe through his nose so that he wasn't suffocating. Yet he could still imagine the reaction from the others if they found him in this compromising position. Naru would punch him. Naomi would slap him. Motoko would either try to cut his head off or offer them some privacy, Shinobu would blush and run from the room either way, and -
And that left him with the following problem: How to extract himself? His only vantage points for his hands to grab were, in fact, Mitsune herself. Or her clothes. Which meant that the two paths ahead of him both led to doom. Either stay in this position until Mitsune drunkenly lets go and risk being found by the others, or struggle to free himself by gripping and groping some part of Mitsune's drunken body.
Truly, this was the definition of a hellish choice. A less helpful part was that his dick was telling him that either option would be a fine way to bow out of this life, and he should try to make the best of it. Because Mitsune was hot, hot, hot!
Which is why he was just a little bit surprised when his face popped out and he was sent sprawling backward, landing on her bed in a less than dignified pose while she bit her finger, slunk backwards against the door, and seemed to make a point of locking it.
The word that seemed appropriate to use in this situation was "gulp". So Keitaro did it twice.
"Uh... M-Mitsune?" he whimpered with his finger raised into the air. "You're drunk. L-Let's not do anything we'll regret."
"You are soooo cute!" Mitsune said. "But I don't wanna fool 'round." She drunkenly scratched the top of her head, and in the process tugged up her tanktop to reveal her navel, which her drunken swaying made seem to kind of... Undulate in a very distracting manner. "Besides, I'm Drunkbot. I mean, drunk. I don't feel no regrets."
Well, that was kind of a relief. The last time Mitsune had hit on him it hadn't ended well. Although it did raise the important issue of "Did you want to talk to me about something?"
Mitsune sighed and leaned back against the door, rubbing the back of her head against it like a lazy bear. Each time she did, it seemed as though the tanktop was getting more and more caught up so that more and more of her belly was exposed. It was really quite remarkable that her figure was so perfect despite the supposed beer-belly most drunks would get.
"Just thinkin'," Mitsune said, seemingly oblivious to the increasingly naked state of her navel and related area. "You and Naomi gonna your freak on or what?"
"Me and Naomi?" Keitaro asked, his head feeling kind of fuzzy for a moment. He shook his head. "What do you mean about me and Naomi?"
Suddenly Mitsune slid off the wall, and her tanktop slid down to cover everything again. She then stepped forward in a peculiarly drunken gait, that drew a lot of attention towards her hips and legs. It was the weirdest thing. She'd sort of stumble, then catch herself then stumble again to a silent beat that Keitaro could swear he was starting to hear himself. Then she stopped. Leaned over. Flashed him a load of cleavage in the process, prompting him to turn away and for her to snap his head back into place.
"Ya really dunno?" she breathed on him. Pure alcohol. He was kind of feeling a little groggy just from breathing it in. "That chick is hot for your bod," she breathed on him again. He swayed a little. She kept him steady. Her hands were soft. Rubbing the side of his head. Felt nice. Really nice. "She's been waiting for you to make the first move." She breathed on him again. Pretty. Really pretty. "But you're so shy, you gotta be taught how to treat a woman."
"H-huh? Taught how to -"
"How to fuck," Mitsune said, smoothly moving onto his lap. She kept his eyes focused on her face and guided his hands down her back until they rested on her delightful rear, which was barely covered by a ridiculously tight pair of shorts to which he'd been deliberately not paying attention. "How to please. How to tease. How to leave 'em wanting more." She humped him. "More." She made a twisty motion with her hips. "And moooore." And then she did this thing that seemed to involve her entire body gyrating uncontrollably against him, which ended in her sliding right off the bed, turning around and peering at him over her shoulder while drunkenly swaying in place. Or maybe she was dancing. Weirdly, the more he watched her the more her movements felt like some kind of erotic teasing dance.
"Mishune," Keitaro slurred. His eyes trailed up and down her legs as she sauntered over to a cabinet, bent over at the waist and all but thrust her butt right into his face. "I don't wanna... F-Fool around or... Uh..." She shifted her weight as though drunkenly catching herself, causing her butt to wiggle around. "I don't -" And then again, this time in the other direction. "I -" This time, first left, then right in quick succession. His thought process just couldn't get started no matter how he tried.
"I know," Mitsune said, brandishing a bottle of beer. "I don't wanna fool around unless you wanna fool around. But I do wanna fuck like rabbits."
Oh. Well, that was different then. RIght? He was feeling kind of out of sorts right now, and - And Mitsune was putting the bottle into her cleave, squeezing her boobs with her upper arms, grabbing the bottle top with her mouth and twisting it open with her tongue.
The word "gulp" was no longer sufficient for the purposes of this conversation. His mouth was currently far too dry to even try doing anything like that. Not to mention that his dick was metaphorically pounding at the door, begging to have a say in proceedings. But no, Keitaro refused to let himself be controlled by such basic desires. Even if she was clearly seducing him, even though she was just that hot, even though the bottle came open and released its alcoholic contents all over her tanktop, leaving it more transparent than a window and giving a much more scenic view than any he'd looked out of.
"Whoopsie," Mitsune drunkenly tittered. "Lookit the mess I accidentally made."
Accident. Yeah. Accident. He'd buy that a little more easily if she didn't tip the bottle over, throw her head back and shake out the last few drops. Not that he could really voice an objection to the sight unfolding before his eyes. Which now included her spinning around, peeling the tanktop up and up her drenched body while dancing in a semi-drunken manner. Stripping off her sodden clothes and twirling them around her head. Her tanktop on one hand. Her shorts on the other.
"How 'bout it, handsome?" Mitsune asked. "Wanna fuck, or wouldja rather fool around?"
"Fuck, please?" he said in spite of himself. And let's be honest. There wasn't a straight man alive who could resist her just then. Not with a body like that, with moves like those, and an eagerness this infectious. He'd feel guilty later. When there was room for it in his tipsy, horny body.
<hr>
If there was anything Kanako hated about these dorms, it was the hijinks her dearly beloved adopted brother kept on getting himself into time and time and time again. That's why, upon spying him in a dress walking down the corridor with that former swordswoman-turned-maid of his, she immediately growled a little and sped off down the corridor after the pair of them with the silence of a falling feather. Don't worry, beloved! Your true love Kanako is here to -
"Huh?" she said. Disappeared? The corridor was empty. Where could they have -
"Feather duster imprisonment!"
Kanako was already out of the way of the feather duster prison that struck the ground. A circle of them appeared as if from out of nowhere, but Kanako knew the truth immediately. Above her! On the ceiling! Oh, swordswoman. Have you forgotten already what happened the last time they -
Except Kanako frowned when she watched Motoko approaching her with a mop in hand, occasionally planting it on the ground to spin around in a manner that seemed to be almost... Seductive? This was completely out of character. Impromptu pole dancing? From a pervert hater like her?
"What on earth is that supposed to be in aid of?" Kanako asked, itching for the opportunity to teach the maid a lesson.
"Well, I suppose I could put it this way," Motoko said while hanging upside down from the mop by her legs, which was actually really an impressive feat of balance when you think about it. "They don't call her Trapbot just because she has a great big dick."
"'Trapbot'? Who the hell is -"
A pair of arms encircled Kanako's chest, and clamped onto her breasts with a tender yet vicelike grip. Uh oh! She looked up, and made ready to try to twist her opponent into smashing their face against the wall... Until she caught sight of who it was. Keitaro! He smiled down at her with the gentleness she would expect.
Then violently thrust his hips so that something very hard smacked her right in the ass. Kanako's head lolled over as unconsciousness took her. But do you know what? She was smiling when it happened.
- One of the stripperbots finds the Word Processor.
- One of the residents finds the Word Processor.
- The other residents get into hijinks with each other.
- The other stripperbots have some fun with the residents.
- More about Keitaro or Kanako's positions right now.
- Something else
No comments:
Post a Comment