episode_0159

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Tongue.

Perhaps the softest part of the human body visible on the outside.

That tongue touches me—

Beside my nipple,

Below my chest,

Next to my navel,

Below my navel,

…Above my clit,

And then,

The most, most embarrassing place,

One after another.

“…, ……! ……. ….”

A minute?

Five minutes?

Maybe an hour?

I’m not sure, but one thing was certain: it had been a long time since the conversation between the teacher and me had stopped.

…No,

It had to be that way.

It wasn’t like he was scolding my exposed clit with his fingers,

Nor was he digging in with his longest middle finger, scraping against the walls of my pussy as if peeling them away,

At most, all he did was gently lick me with his tongue,

Yet I was already pushed to the brink, far more intensely than when I touch myself alone.

Even if the clock on the wall kindly informed me that only three minutes had passed, I’d still believe it had been an hour and three, swallowing back my moans.

…Ah, of course,

Every time the teacher’s tongue slowly grazes the side of my clit,

The way I squirt, pwet, pshh, my slick onto the bed without even a towel beneath me—

There’s no way to hide it.

“Nghh….”

Maybe it’s because I’ve been coming every time he licks.

From a while ago until now, he’s only focused on the area around my clit,

Instead of directly caressing it like before, he’s been gently licking around it,

Then carefully, he licks my lower stomach.

This is already the fifth time.

Whether it’s his saliva seeping from his glands,

…Or the slick I’ve shamelessly spilled until now,

He wipes away the unidentified, sticky fluid from my lower stomach,

Takes a composed breath,

And then presses his lips lightly against my body.

Mwah, mwah—not even a sound, just the formality of a kiss.

From my lower stomach to my thighs,

Pausing there briefly to look into my eyes,

Then from my thighs back to my lower stomach,

And from there, down to my pussy again,

A silent, barely-there brush of his lips.

…Having learned from experience that once this ends, he’ll go back to licking my clit,

I don’t know how to describe it,

But with my eyes half-lidded,

Without a word,

I press the back of my hand against my lips.

…Moans.

If they leak out, it’d be embarrassing.

And a little perverted, too.

“…Teacher…….”

For the past three minutes—

No, no,

For the past hour and three minutes, the only sounds that could be heard were intermittent, wet noises.

Even those weren’t particularly loud, just enough to know he was diligently licking something,

But every time those sounds graze my eardrums, my heart pounds so hard I feel like I’ll go insane.

…Maybe this,

Is what it feels like to be pleasured by the teacher.

That thought keeps crossing my mind.

After being pleasured, doesn’t it usually lead to… sex?

That thought keeps crossing my mind.

If the teacher were to recklessly push his cock inside me like this,

Would I even be able to properly refuse?

That thought keeps crossing my mind.

Lost in these guilty delusions I could never voice to the teacher, I dirty the bed… again,

And despite blocking my lips with my hand, a moan slips out,

As I twitch my trapped thighs uncontrollably, ignoring all restraint.

Compared to when I touch myself and ride out the afterglow,

This feels so much better.

So much longer.

So much more,

Perverted.

“Teacher…, nghh…, Teacher….”

“Say it. I’m listening.”

“Just a second…, just one minute, let me rest….”

“…Why rest? We haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Huh…? What do you mean…? ……Nghhk….”

Haven’t done anything?

You kissed me without permission,

Spread my thighs without permission,

Licked my clit without permission,

What do you mean, we haven’t done anything?

Every complaint that comes to mind is crushed under the weight of my own vulgar moans, vanishing without a trace.

…Because of the teacher gripping my thighs.

Because of the teacher, who’s been teasing me relentlessly until now,

Then started licking my clitoris with deliberate, lick-lick care.

Stop licking me, my head’s going to break, I try to close my thighs instead of answering,

But they’re pinned down even harder, as if warning me not to resist,

And from my throat, my voice starts to crack,

Until ugly moans spill out,

Over and over,

Over and over.

Pleasure I’ve never felt on my own,

Driven deep into my mind like a brand.

“…Your body—I’ve only been looking, just like I promised. Sua.”

“Hahhk…. Hah….”

“I didn’t touch you the way you said not to. …And we didn’t have sex.”

“You only… nghh…, only didn’t have sex…! You touched me, kissed me over and over…!”

This can’t go on.

If I keep getting swept along like this, I’ll end up having sex with the teacher. It’s obvious.

A sense of crisis, blaring like a red siren in my head, snaps me back to my senses, and I squirm to put distance between us.

…Well,

Not that it matters, since we’re still on the bed…,

Like this.

“…Kisses, mhff—Teacher, kisses…, ngh…, …I told you not to….”

Pinned to the edge of the bed like prey,

Pressed against the wall as the teacher kisses me like an animal, I grip his wrist tightly,

Even as I swallow down the slick still lingering on his lips.

“Hahh…. …Earlier, you said you wanted to take it off the rules. Kissing.”

“Th-That wasn’t—I didn’t mean it like that…! …Ah, whatever, you put it back anyway…!”

“Ah, I just wanted to see something.”

“…Wanted to see what?”

“You really like kissing, don’t you…? I wondered what face you’d make if I said I wouldn’t do it first.”

“L-Like it…? Me? That…?”

Like it?

Kissing?

Me?

Stumbling over my words at the absurd statement, I wipe the slick from my lips with the back of my hand—something I’d usually use my tongue for—then grab the pillow beside me and press it against the teacher’s mouth.

“…I’ve never liked it. Kissing.”

“….”

…But.

“Why… why are you smiling…?”

“….”

I’m sure I said it as firmly as possible.

Yet all I see over the soft pillow is the teacher’s eyes, crinkling in amusement.

…Is that why?

Suddenly,

My cheeks burn unbearably hot.

Seizing the moment of my fluster, the teacher yanks the pillow away,

And starts closing the distance between us again.

In the exact same position,

As when he pinned me against the wall and kissed me earlier.

“Then if you don’t want me touching you, push me away properly. Idiot.”

“…I-I did…! I pushed properly…!”

My pale body stumbles back awkwardly as the teacher’s shadow looms over me.

Like a child coloring the background with crayons.

Slowly.

Slowly.

From the soft tips of his feet,

To my knees, clenched tight to hide the shamefully wet place between my thighs,

…To my milk-white breasts, slightly crushed from how I’ve pulled my legs up.

All of it is painted over by the teacher’s dark shadow,

Slowly.

“At least put some strength in your hands. What’s the point of just resting them there?”

“…Even if I push, you don’t move…!”

“There’s no way I’m stronger than you, a shapeshifter.”

“….”

“A sword spirit… no, a beast like you being weaker than me, a healer—what’s up with that?”

The teacher stops just before my lips.

Close enough to kiss at any moment.

No—more like, close enough for me to push him away if I wanted.

No—more like, as if giving me the chance to choose before he kisses me.

His gaze locks onto mine from an unbearably close distance.

After staring at me like that for about ten seconds,

Just like when he kissed my thigh earlier,

He presses his lips,

Against mine,

Only his lips, barely touching.

“….”

It’s a kiss, but… it feels lacking somehow.

Frozen stiff in that position, the teacher pulls away briefly before kissing me again.

Lips meet,

A brief moment passes,

Then they part.

…I wipe my lips with the back of my hand, as if marking them unclean,

But he grabs my wrist and pins it down,

Then kisses me again,

So, so gently,

Before pulling away.

He doesn’t crush me under his weight to restrain me,

Doesn’t devour me with his tongue,

Doesn’t even lick my lips with the tip of his tongue.

Even though just moments ago, he’d slammed me against the wall, kissing me with messy, wet noises as our tongues tangled,

Now, for some reason, it’s dry and chaste.

“….”

Is that why?

Something feels… off.

A strange emotion, tinged with frustration and slight irritation,

Washes over my head.

The teacher I know,

And the teacher from my shameful fantasies,

Neither of them liked kisses like this.

…Not that it matters to me.

It’s not like I…

Like kissing or anything…

….

At all.

“…Wh-What are you doing…?”

“Who knows.”

“….”

“What do you think, Sua?”

It’s a kiss, isn’t it?

Just without the usual tongue—but still a kiss, isn’t it?

A simple answer, nothing complicated.

But the words, already at the back of my throat, get stuck as if blocked by something.

I don’t know why.

I should just say what comes to mind.

If I stay silent,

Even though the “no kissing” rule has already been broken beyond repair,

He’ll only get more blatant, mixing our tongues openly,

And I’ll end up doing so many things I’d feel guilty about toward Yozora.

It’s a kiss, such a short, simple phrase—yet it won’t come out.

But I can’t just brush it off.

Biting my lower lip hard enough to turn it white,

I force it out.

“A k…kiss.”

“…Yeah?”

Gulp. The word slips out as I swallow.

The moment it does, the teacher’s hand covers mine where it’s braced against the bed.

And then—

“Mmph, chlck…….”

Not the chaste kiss from before,

But the kind I’m familiar with,

He does it.

“Nghh…. Hh, hngg… Ngh….”

Far from gentle, barely-there touches,

The obscenely wet sound of our tongues tangling,

The ragged breaths whenever our lips part even slightly,

“….……. Ngh….”

Echo loudly,

From deep inside my ears,

Impossible to block out.

I’m forced to endure it.

“…Then this doesn’t count as a kiss?”

“Hahh…. Hah….”

The teacher’s voice reaches me as my mind grows hazy from shared breaths.

I try to answer with what I’d already decided in my heart,

…But unfortunately,

I can’t say anything.

“…….”

Because I’m too busy,

Breathing.

In the 30 seconds where our kiss—

…Our saliva exchange pauses,

All I can do is breathe.

“Ah, also… Sua?”

“…Wh-What…?”

“Your hand. Can I see it?”

“…My hand? Why—… Ah….”

“I never said you couldn’t touch me.”

“….”

“…Don’t grip too hard, though.”

“…If I do this, will you be satisfied and leave?”

“Who knows. I’d be happier if you were satisfied too.”

“…I-I’m fine….”

I couldn’t give a proper answer.