episode_0084

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I don’t have any real experience yet, but I’ve seen and learned a lot.

“…Nngh, f-fuck… Ah, mmh, hng… …♡”

I know exactly how good it feels to be pinned down by a male, unable to escape, as he takes me roughly from behind. I know exactly how good it feels to be kissed into silence while he pounds deep into my core. I know exactly how good it feels when my hips—clearly made to be fucked hard—are shoved down sideways, when a male, drunk on lust, slams me into place, when he ignores my state entirely, when he buries his thick, swollen cock all the way inside, and when he uses me until he’s satisfied.

I don’t have any real experience yet, …but I’ve seen and learned all this from manga.

“Hah… Hah… Hahh… Hn, hhaa…….”

But it’s not like there’s a man around who can do that to me right now. No, no. It’s not that I want a man like that around— it’s just that there isn’t one. Yeah. That’s all. The phrasing might’ve been a little weird, but there’s no deeper meaning. I only read adult manga in the first place to figure out what guys like, after all. Wait, no—that still makes it sound like I want a boyfriend… Ugh, how should I put it? This is just a coincidence. I was studying hard, reading that stuff, and then… …I just, got wet, that’s all…

If I’m wet, doesn’t that mean I should be penetrated? But there’s no man around to do that. No, that’s not it either… …I don’t knooow…

“… …… ……♡”

Just like the men in the manga do to the women, I sandwich my clit between my fingers and rub it hard. My mind goes blank, electricity crackles down my spine, and even as animalistic, unfamiliar noises spill from my lips—muffled into the pillow— I keep grinding my already-swollen clit between my fingers, squelch squelch, drenching the towel beneath me with sticky slick, over and over, and over again, until I finally collapse onto the bed, gasping for air.

“Phh… Pff……. Hh….”

…Oh. Right. This is called masturbation, apparently. When I googled it, a wiki page popped right up explaining it. Something about relieving sexual desire alone, without a partner, blah blah… Anyway, turns out I’m in heat like some kind of animal. Yep. …Ahaha. Funny. So funny I could cry. In heat? Me? I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much! Aside from staying up this late, lying facedown on my bed, holding my breath, and furiously rubbing my clit, I’m fine… ……. …Fine, okay?!

Ignoring my burning ears, I hnng and push myself up. “…T-towel… Just a few more…” This isn’t because I’m in heat. It’s purely for research. Curiosity. That’s all.

My hand is already a mess from slick in just a few minutes. I wipe it off on the towel I just used and wobble over to the dresser. This time, I grab five neatly folded hotel-style towels—color doesn’t matter—and toss them onto the bed. Ivory and gray towels bounce haphazardly across the sheets as I tie up my hair (it was getting in the way), throw the damp towel on the floor, and lay out a fresh one.

…Alright. Now I can masturbate like before until I’m satisfied— “…….” …Wait.

Instead of recalling manga scenes in my head while doing this, why not just turn on my phone and masturbate while watching them…? “…Hm.”

And since he has ears and a tail too, it might be easier to project myself into this than other works…

84

The blanket, pushed far away to avoid any embarrassing stains. The towel, spread from the edge of the pillow all the way to my knees as I lie facedown. The panties cooling by the pillow and the soft fleece pajama pants. The warm amber nightlight, left on so my eyes won’t strain in the dark.

Everything’s set.

With my lion ears and tail out—just for masturbation, of all things—I flinch at the strange self-loathing creeping in and stare at my phone. Or rather, up at it. Since my face is buried in the pillow and my hips are raised, I have to tilt my eyes upward to see the screen. In this embarrassing, yoga-like position, I blink up at it.

“…….”

Why does the phrase “in heat” suddenly feel so fitting now? For a brief moment, I consider masturbating normally like before. But instead, I start re-reading the scene where the white tiger gets his tail yanked and pounded into, thrust thrust, as my fingers press into my pink flesh and scroll down.

“Nngh……. …Hhk….”

My mind, free of imagination, focuses only on pleasure. With every twitch of my fingers, the image of the white tiger unraveling on-screen burns into my thoughts. …God…

After tail-pulling, there’s also a scene where he bites down during sex. I hate the pulling, but that looks even worse—it must hurt so much… “…….”

J-just a little. Just to check. Yeah. That shouldn’t hurt too much. …Can I even reach? …Ah. Barely. Then let’s see… ……. …Pffh…

What the hell is this…? It just hurts. Doesn’t feel good at all… According to the description, the protagonist bites down hard—hard enough for fur to get stuck in his teeth. If I were the girl being fucked like that, I’d definitely kick him off mid-sex. The author clearly has no idea what they’re talking about.

Goodbye to my saliva-soaked tail. After licking the few wheat-colored strands of fur off my tongue and wiping them on the pillow, I hmph and press down on my clit, exhaling dismissively. Shivering, I cram the next scenes into my brain—

A thick, veiny cock… …violently thrusting into a hole that looks way too tight. The squelch squelch of relentless pounding. Hips slapping so hard— whether from sheer force or to flaunt their softness— they jiggle obscenely. The white tiger, surrounded by hearts symbolizing his torn, ruined state, floods my mind one after another.

Honestly, aside from the prologue, this isn’t much different from the sex scenes in the manga Yozora recommended. But maybe because I just learned how to masturbate today, one question keeps bubbling up as I watch these scenes:

Does it actually feel good to get pounded like that? Really? …That doesn’t make any sense. That hole is barely big enough for a single finger to begin with… Should I check while I have the chance?

After teasing the spot under my clit for a while, slick gushing out, I wipe my messy hand on the towel and move my fingers higher. “Ngh… Hahh…….”

Since I’m lying down, it’s not the hole where pee comes out, but the one above it. A tiny, tiny hole—so small even the word “tiny” feels insufficient. Just as I remember, it’s barely big enough for my pinky to fit snugly. But when I try to push my finger in slightly, it kinda hurts… “…Haa… Nngh….”

…Let’s stop. I might be able to get my pinky in if I try hard enough, but rubbing my clit like before is way easier and feels way better. All I need is to get my head spinning. No need to take the hard path.

After briefly watching the white tiger on-screen lick the protagonist’s fingers and climax, I pull my fingers out of my hole and torment my already-drenched clit instead. Just like I learned from the manga, I rub it firmly between my fingertips, squelch squelch, sometimes pressing down hard, and in less than five seconds, my trembling feet start tapping the bed quietly. Trying to muffle my noises, I bury my face in the pillow and circle my fingers over the most sensitive spot inside.

By the time my hips start jerking upward, I grab whatever’s nearby, grinding against my swollen clit wildly— “……?!? Nngh…Phh…!♡”

—just like the white tiger. Like this.

For some reason, tears well up, and after a strange urge to pee, a flood of clear liquid gushes onto the towel. …This must be the “climax” the manga talked about.

I bury my face in the damp pillow again, hah, hah, breathing in dust-filled air. It feels good. …It does feel good, but it’s a little unfair that I didn’t learn this until twenty because I was too busy studying. And now… I just want to do it over and over… If sex is supposed to feel even better than this, does that mean…? The thought alone excites me.

I don’t even understand my own feelings, so I ignore my trembling hips and keep pressing down on my clit. No matter what happens to my body, I don’t care.

“Phhee, phhee… Ah……….”

No, no. My careless muttering gets muffled into the pillow, turning into strange noises. Even as I tell myself to stop, my hips buck up and down on their own, creak creak, and my brain feels like it’s melting from breathing into the saliva-soaked pillow.

Yet, ignoring every other signal, my pleasure-chasing hand keeps tormenting my oversensitive clit, so— so I— again—

“…♡, ……?!, …, …………♡”

—as if determined to wring every last drop from my body, I splatter slick all over the damp towel.

The squelch, squelch of lewd noises, the “Help me, help me” SOS muffled into the pillow, and the scent of a female in heat fill the room, pounding against my eardrums.

Even a water gun—just a vessel filled with liquid and a trigger—doesn’t pull its own trigger. But here I am, whispering stop, stop in my head while still touching myself. Pathetic.

“Phhaa… Hah, haa……. Ha….”

Pathetic. Right? My body is pathetic. The tail-yanking? It felt so good I got wet instantly, but I played it off like it was nothing. The tail-biting? It felt better than I expected, so I gnawed on it for ages, staining the towel, only to spit it out later like I hadn’t enjoyed it.

My body is just as pathetic as the heroines in male-targeted manga. So if— if I ever met a man like the protagonists in those stories… I’d…

“Nngh…”

For a second— just a second—the word “Master” flashes through my mind.

Hah, hah. As I steady my breathing and regain my senses, I notice the slick dampness from my inner thighs down to my knees. …Ugh. How much did I even…? …Wait, no. This isn’t the time for that—I didn’t put a towel here!

“G-gotta… clean… Haa… clean…….”

…Now that I think about it, how did I even end up masturbating? I couldn’t sleep… so I was just browsing my phone… Ah, right. An ad. I saw an ad. And then… I started wondering what guys like… Oh. Right. Guys like sex… …Right…?

Well, probably. There are tons of lewd manga… Guys like sex…

“N-not the time… Towel…”

I make sure to properly memorize today’s lesson before wriggling toward the edge of the bed. Thud. The loud noise I’d been holding back finally escapes. The bed creaks as I move busily, tidying up.

And then, this time, I roll onto my side……

……At some point, my mind goes blank, and the next thing I hazily remember is waking up at 2 PM the next day, Saturday. After oversleeping, the first thing I hear is the landlady asking, “Should I turn the heating down a bit?”