With her slit pressed flat against the desk, the protruding clitoral head and its subdermal counterpart were practically forced to "stand" on the surface. Thus, a slight downward slide would send the desk corner scraping swiftly across the tiny pink pearl and the raised subdermal clit, tugging the skin encasing the pearl upward. Though it stung faintly, the pleasure it elicited rendered the discomfort negligible.
Consequently, Miko stifled a moan, clamping her lips shut. "Ugh—"
This is bad… Using a desk corner feels this good? So bad, so bad. Is this why Yui can't quit masturbating? What method does she use… Ugh, never mind…
Pushing her friend Yui from her thoughts, Miko imagined the desk corner as Kagura's tongue. She pictured him between her thighs, her riding his face, his firm, sandpaper-like tongue scraping her tender, rosy bud repeatedly.
Gradually, she mastered the rhythm—sometimes rubbing lightly up and down, other times pressing her mound fully onto the corner, twisting her hips side to side. She knew her swaying hips must look utterly lascivious, more shameless than the most wanton seductress. But since no one could see, she indulged herself this once.
Soon, her gentle twists and rubs escalated into shuddering against the corner. Sensing her climax nearing, she pressed down hard, lifting her legs to suspend her body, letting her full weight focus on that single point. Her clit flattened against the corner, pinned entirely. Her thighs and hips tensed, trembling slightly…
"…I'm coming!"
Miko stiffened like a sun-dried fish, her body quivering incessantly. Her uterus contracted forcefully, spasming, causing her virgin passage—addicted to self-pleasure—to clench rhythmically, as if milking thick, cloudy fluid despite containing nothing. Ultimately, a gush of clear love juice from her cervix marked the crescendo's end.
Her second climax, and second squirt, crashed over her like a mighty wave, leaving her mind blank, devoid of thought.
Drip, drip…
Her spring tide splattered the floor, some clinging between her thighs, some lingering on her bud, like a greedy maiden's salivating lips, trailing clear threads downward.
"Huff… huff…"
Miko slumped lifelessly onto the desk, legs dangling limply.
This is awful… So awful… Fantasizing about my friend's crush and masturbating to this state—I'm utterly deplorable… The worst…
She retreated slightly, sliding off the corner.
Her private area hovered as she sat duck-like on the wet floor. Her left hand gripped the desk's edge, and she tentatively licked the corner, tasting her own tide. Her right hand ventured below, tracing small circles on her drenched slit—circles morphing into figure-eights, grazing half a circle around her clit, twisting near her urethra, looping her honeyed entrance, then returning to her bud. She pressed the sticky pad of her finger against it, rubbing slowly.
Her tongue stretched, lapping the desk like a base bitch savoring delectable broth, emitting shameful "Ha—ha—" gasps.
Her slit parted and closed under her fingers, but no matter how tightly pressed, the pink petals never fully adhered. Surface tension held them briefly before they parted delicately, awaiting the finger's kiss to close again.
The pearl twisted left and right under her prodding, its subdermal mass—like soft, ripe mochi—deforming lewdly, pulling the nearby camel toe skin into obscene shapes.
Miko knew her soft flesh was secreting shameful mucus. Sitting upright, her slit facing the floor, gravity hastened the drip. Glistening fluid seeped from her folds, traversing layered creases, passing her tight, heated entrance, brushing her porous hymen, and dangling from her petals like eaves in fine rain, splattering the floor and coating her fingers. The slick threads felt cool yet thrilling as she moved.
Climax was inevitable, like even the fairest virgin yielding to a thick rod piercing her cervix. Miko's third orgasm struck fiercely and swiftly.
It erupted like a sudden electric surge from her clit, numbing her lips instantly, coursing to her spine, then flooding her body, convulsing her muscles. Her tender uterus spasmed too. Seconds later, a warm tide swept away days of frustration and fear.
Miko collapsed backward, catching herself with her left hand. Her right tried to cover her slit, but two streams—urine from loss of control and tide from her depths—sprayed the desk corner in a lascivious arc, unstoppable.
Finally, she lay back, legs splayed, hands covering her face, wishing to roll on the floor in shame.
"Wahhh… I can't be a bride anymore…" She curled into a pitiful ball.
So… since I'm unmarriageable anyway, might as well do it more. It feels so good… Thus, Miko indulged nearly all night.
Monday
At breakfast, Kagura sensed an awkward atmosphere, but the real tension awaited in the car. The reason? Eriri, frenziedly meeting deadlines over the weekend, couldn't rise on Monday.
Sayuri, ever understanding, called the school to excuse her. Schools don't question a mother's call—how could it be false?
One might ask, why would Eriri's absence make Kagura awkward? Simple—without her in the middle, he and Qiong sat alone together for the first time in ages.
As Kagura boarded, Qiong shut her eyes as if seeing filth, pressing herself leftward, knees clamped against the door, practically wishing to meld into the window.
"…"
Kagura, speechless, coughed twice and settled into his corner.
Nao Hayasaka, glancing at their strained vibe in the rearview mirror, stayed silent, driving on. The trio's silence was oppressive, like a defeated war room. A cigarette in Kagura's mouth would've completed the scene.
The car left the short private road, entering the city. Kawasaki, meanwhile, biked to school, unbothered.
Kagura spotted a familiar FM convenience store on his side. Suddenly, Qiong spoke, "Hayasaka… Stop a bit. I want to buy something…"
"Alright."
Seeing Kagura silent, Nao complied with Qiong's "order."
The car slowed, nearing the FM parking lot. But then, a bicycle grazed Qiong's window with a screech—, toppling rider and bike.
"Ah…"
Qiong snapped back, eyes wide.
"Please wait, both of you. It's fine—based on my experience, the other party's likely at fault." Nao parked, hopped out, and rushed to the fallen young man.
He seemed a college student, backpack in his bike's front basket, wearing Bluetooth earbuds. One earbud—left or right—flew off, crushed under a passing car's tire.
Seeing Nao bow apologetically, the student bowed back, easing Kagura's tension.
"Sorry…" Qiong hugged herself, whispering, "If I hadn't wanted to stop, the car wouldn't have been scratched."
"They seem unharmed. That's fortunate."
"…Kagura," Qiong shifted closer, sitting where Eriri usually did, legs neatly together, asking, "Didn't you always want to sit with me? Why so quiet now?"
"Your look when I got in screamed you wanted nothing to do with me. How could I speak?"
He rolled his eyes, exhaling.
"That's because I figured you'd bring up private stuff. I didn't want that woman hearing, so I ignored you. It's hard to talk alone at home too."
She leaned low, left elbow on her black-pantyhose-clad knee, propping her expressionless face, staring at him.
"Phew…"
A weight lifted from Kagura's chest.
"So… what's on your mind? At breakfast, you could barely look at me. Am I that hideous?"
"Uh—weren't you avoiding me?"
"No idea what nonsense you're imagining…" She extended her right hand. He instinctively grasped it. She tilted her head, frowning. "What're you doing?"
"Uh…?"
"Snacks. Got any? I don't want to get out. Hand some over."
"Oh… Snacks, hold on!"
He released her hand, rummaging through his pockets.
He found a small bag of white chocolate with hazelnuts, five pieces inside. Before he could offer it, Qiong snatched it.
"…"
Kagura was dumbfounded.
Seeing his daze, she tore open the bag, unwrapped a piece, and asked, "What?"
"Nothing… Enjoy."
"Here, take this. I'm sorta a maid, after all."
She handed him the unwrapped piece. He examined it, said nothing, and popped it into his mouth.
Hmm… This chocolate… Right, how'd I have chocolate?
It was Nao's favorite, slipped into his pocket Sunday night while he played piano, unnoticed.
"The other four are mine…"
"Sure, sure."
Kagura rarely ate snacks. If Qiong wanted them, she could have them.
"I was wrong to snap at you before… I thought it over and owe you an apology," she said, unwrapping another piece, holding it between her fingers, murmuring as if to herself, "But… I'll never acknowledge you as my brother."
"Fine, fine… I won't force you to call me 'brother.'"
Licking the chocolate, he imagined it as Nao's bud.
"Birthday gift…" She bit into hers, licking her fingers sensually. "Don't want it."
"…What? No way!"
Her birthday, April 24, was less than ten days away. He'd prepared a gift—a small platinum cross with a diamond-encrusted chain. Diamonds were overhyped, but girls loved them, and Qiong likely did too.
"Probably some store-bought jewelry, right? I'm bored of those. I can't even fake surprise. If you must give something, make it meaningful."
"Meaningful…?"
He pondered what that could be.
A photo album with their childhood pictures and a diary? She'd call that creepy.
Then he thought of plushies. Qiong adored her black rabbit plush, a memento from her mother, with a back slit to hide things, usually the house's master key.
"No plushies either…"
She glanced at him, unwrapping another chocolate, dabbing her index, middle, and ring fingers on her lips, licking lightly.
Send me your day-worn panties over jewelry or plushies… Or better, a vial of your semen.
"Hey, hey…"
His plushie idea burst, embarrassing him.
"You're giving Eriri a galgame, so thoughtful for her, but for me, just generic jewelry? And you call me an important sister? Hah… You gave Ai Hayasaka a necklace too, didn't you? Same old maid-charming trick…"
She scoffed as Nao approached, sliding back to her original seat.
Nao opened the door, leaning in. "Young Master Kagura, they request compensation for the car door's paint. How should we proceed?"
"No need. Are they okay?"
"Minor scrapes on pants and knee, nothing serious."
"Good. Exchanged contact info?"
"Yes."
"Tell them no compensation needed, and let's go. Qiong doesn't want to shop."
"My apologies."
Qiong nodded sincerely to Nao.
Watching Qiong nibble chocolate, Kagura resolved: No jewelry, no plushies… Guess I'll use my specialty.
If Cao Zhi composed a poem in seven steps, Kagura would compose a piece in nine days.
He decided to write Qiong a song, without the system's aid.
What to name it? No "sister" to avoid her ire or expose their bond…
"Settled. Like the Clear Sky." He clapped his fist into his palm.
In Japanese, 『空に似ている』, "Sora" matched Qiong's name, also writable as "sky," so it could translate as Like the Firmament.
They reached school, grabbed their bentos, and parted ways.
Entering the school building, he spotted a familiar girl on his left. The closer he looked, the more familiar she seemed. She glanced up, saying, "Morning, Zeamura. The weekend must've felt endless, huh?"
Oh, Kei Kato.
Today, Kei wore her signature eyeshadow but no other makeup, hardly the "flashiest kid."
"Why say that?"
"Your eyes look at me like I'm a familiar stranger. It's just been a weekend, but you barely recognize me. Did you live years in another dimension?"
She shifted her bag from right to left shoulder, chatting naturally.
"Uh…" He laughed, palming his forehead. "No, I remember you. Just had a hectic weekend, memory's a bit jumbled."
"People call that 'forgetting,' you know."
She glanced left, offhandedly. "Cough, thanks for the vocab correction."
"Speaking of… Career shadowing's coming up."
She demurely pressed her skirt's hem, climbing stairs with him. "Career shadowing. Got your group yet, Kato?"
Her skirt-pressing struck him as a moment youth could freeze. "Not yet. You, Zeamura?"
"I'm skipping it…"
"Uh… Isn't that cheating?"
Her brow arched, clearly unprepared for his reply. "No biggie. If I never work, I don't need career shadowing."
"…Then I can skip too. Where do I apply?"
"School office. Wait, you don't want to work?"
"My future career's a housewife… Tentatively."
"Tentatively…" He chuckled, teasing, "Just an excuse to dodge shadowing, right?"
"Ehh, not at all, Zeamura. I just fell out with the girl I was grouping with."
She calmly recounted her friend fallout. "Uh…?"
Her cool demeanor startled him.
"You should get it, right? Why the shocked face?"
"Me…? Get it? Ohhh…"
He recalled their "one-day boyfriend" date. She'd planned to hang out with Minami Sagami, but Sagami bailed last-minute, likely sparking their rift.
"No worries if you forgot. Don't fake recalling to comfort me."
"I remember! Sagami, right? The canceled hangout."
"Pretty much." At the classroom door, she asked, "So, all-knowing Zeamura, where should an aspiring housewife shadow?"
"Hmm…"
He tilted his head, pondering.
Her words felt familiar… Who'd said something similar? Stepping through the back door, it hit him.
Hikigaya!
"Kato, shadowing's the day before Golden Week, right?" He sat at his desk.
"Exactly."
She pressed her skirt, sitting lightly, setting her bag on her desk. Instead of grabbing a book, she turned ninety degrees, glancing at him sidelong.
"Then…" He rubbed his chin, turning to Hikigaya. "Morning. You wanted to shadow a househusband, right?"
"Oh… Morning. You remembered?"
Hikigaya, slumped on his desk, mumbled lazily.
"Yup." Pointing at Kei, he said, "Kato wants to shadow a housewife. How about—"
"How about…?"
Kei blinked curiously, and Hikigaya sat up, holding his breath.
"I join the shadowing, and we do it at my place. You two come along."
Like Kei, he sat sideways, patting Hikigaya's desk with his left hand, tapping Kei's shoulder with his right.
"That's an option…?" Kei's small mouth gaped, blinking.
"Your place…? How's that shadowing? Study your mom?" Hikigaya wagged a finger, raising a practical point.
"No, no. Study my butler." Snapping his fingers, he explained, "I told you before, right? I've got a butler, Smith A. Hasaka."
"Zeamura," Kei raised a hand, frowning, "I don't recall you mentioning him…"
He clarified for her, noting he'd already told Hikigaya.
"I see… Mastering that omni-competent butler's skills would surpass housewife standards, so learning a fraction suffices. That's your idea, right, Zeamura?"
Kei tilted her head, analyzing.
"Something like that…" Hikigaya muttered.
"Exactly. So, you two in? I'll apply to the office."
"In… or not…?"
Hikigaya's eyes flickered, avoiding Kei.
He'd told Kagura he wanted to shadow a househusband, but Kagura said it was impossible. Now, with Kei's similar request, Kagura was problem-solving, clearly prioritizing her. Hikigaya was incidental.
He knew his place, a clever guy.
"But won't this trouble you? Your holidays are packed, right?" Kei's first sentence was neutral, but the second jabbed, making him plead, "Sorry for not recognizing you instantly, Kato. Stop teasing, please!"
"Hmm… If you say it's fine, I'm okay. As long as shadowing goes smoothly."
"I'm good anytime. No, this chance is awesome…" Hikigaya lowered his head, muttering, "Thanks…"
"Me too… Thanks, Zeamura."
Kei turned, dipping her head, lifting it to flick her bangs, brushing a stray hair from her cherry-pink lip balm.
"No big deal."
He waved casually. Kei turned forward.
Morning, After First Period
A boy with a bowl cut and thick black glasses approached Kagura's desk.
Thud—!
He slammed a thick stack of printed materials onto the desk, pushing his glasses with a mix of swagger and merit-seeking. "Yo, the proposal's done. Care to refine it, Lord Zeamura?"
"Let's see."
Kagura grabbed the A4 stack, clipped in a large folder, and checked the cover.
The game, How to Raise a Non-NPC Protagonist, followed a duke's son leisurely choosing a bride among schoolgirls. The protagonist falls for the enigmatic Ai Hayasaka from the next class, but multiple girls vie for him, turning it into a harem drama with jealous entanglements.
Kagura pegged it as an eroge.
But the proposal was engaging. Glancing at the guy's heavy dark circles, he understood.
Absolute Focus suits him…
But gifting a near-eroge galgame to his sister for her birthday? Dubious.
"Of course, it's all-ages! Relationships stop at kissing!" Seeing Kagura's gaze, Aki Tomoya pushed his glasses, clarifying.
"Uh…"
Kagura propped his cheek, musing. All-ages? Maybe not. Why not make an R18 version, uncirculated, just for him and the involved girls? No other guys.
He could even rope Eriri into R18 voicing, watching her squirm through lewd lines in the booth.
That'd be hilarious.
"By the way, Lord Zeamura," Aki slapped the desk, bowing gravely, "Everything's set, but we're missing a crucial east wind!"
"Hm…" Flipping the dozens of pages, Kagura snapped his fingers. "Scriptwriter, right?"
"Oh ho, as expected of Lord Zeamura, straight to the point," Aki turned, clenching fists, gritting teeth. "Without a solid script, even stellar art and music are just castles in the air—flashy but hollow!"
"I've got a plan for the script."
Pressing his right hand on Aki's proposal, Kagura grinned confidently. A mature, raven-haired girl's face surfaced in his mind.
Her name: Shiho Kasumigaoka, pen name Kasumi Shiko. Two years ago, Kagura met her briefly.
Her debut novel, Love Metronome, reached its third volume with dismal sales. The publisher, in a whim, enlisted Kagura—fresh off his Chopin International Piano Competition win and a national sensation—for promotion. He initially declined, but Eriri, a rabid fan, convinced him. He agreed, waiving fees for a meeting with the rookie author, Kasumi Shiko.
"Hm?" Aki calmed, turning. "You write scripts too, Lord Zeamura?"
"Nah, I don't. But you don't need to master everything—just find someone who does."
"But this is a doujin project. Hiring a commercial writer kills the vibe, no?"
Aki's tone deflated, shoulders slumping.
"Hmph, just nail the proposal. Don't ask what you shouldn't. Back to your seat."
Kagura tapped the proposal's center, flicking its edge to spin it swiftly.
"Fine, but… even as a grunt, I've got no credit but plenty of sweat. A tiny suggestion, Lord Zeamura?"
Aki fidgeted, hands between his thighs, squirming. "Speak normally. Wriggling like a maggot's gross."
"Yes!" Aki saluted, still saluting as he said, "I admire this writer. Her style's fresh, gentle, her heroines delicate and vivid—perfect for a youthful daily-life game. I'm just a fan, not acquainted. If you've got channels to bring her on, that'd be amazing."
"Oh? Interesting. Who?"
Kagura set the proposal down, propping his cheek.
"Uh! Love Metronome's author, the high school enigma beauty, Kasumi Shiko! I don't know if it's publisher hype or real, but please consider her if you've got a way!"
Aki clasped hands, bowing, then bowed deeper. "Kasumi Shiko…?"
Kagura smirked, touching his lips to suppress a Nicolas Cage meme grin.
What a coincidence—he knew Shiko, and she owed him big.
Without his promotion, Love Metronome would've been axed before completion. Her editor, Ms. Machida, told him sales tanked from volumes one to three, but his push spiked them exponentially.
Aki seemed unaware, focused on 2D realms, likely skipping 3D news like Chopin winner interviews.
"If you think a rookie like her lacks skill, I've got a missionary set of Love Metronome for you to review. What say you?"
Aki shyly poked his index fingers together.
"No need. I know Shiko. I was planning to ask her."
"Seriously?!"
Aki's eyes gleamed, hands slamming Kagura's desk.
Kagura leaned back, legs crossed, amused. "What's lying get me?"
"Oh ho ho! Lord Zeamura, your network's unreal—even obscure rookie writers!"
"Not a channel. I know Shiko personally."
Hiss—! Aki gasped, hands clapping. "You're a god, aren't you?!"
"I'm Kagura, not a god. Scram, I'll meet her soon."
Aki slunk back to his seat, brimming with questions—were the publisher's promos true? What was Shiko like?—but Kagura's dismissal silenced him.
Lunch Break
Unusually, Kagura skipped his bento, bolting out the back door post-class, racing to the third-year floor, stopping at Class A's door.
The teacher was dragging the lesson, but soon ended. Before students could leave, Kagura approached the "messenger" girl at the entrance. "Excuse me, could you call Shiho Kasumigaoka-senpai?"
"Shiho… W-Wow! It's Prince Zeamura!"
The girl, slow to react, gasped upon recognizing him, hands on cheeks, knocking her chair as she leapt up. Her starstruck glee—bouncing excitedly—drew the class's eyes to Kagura.
"Wow…! Prince Zeamura!"
"Sign my book!"
"Me too, me too!"
Fan girls swarmed from the classroom, encircling him in the hall.
Normally, they'd hesitate to approach, not being classmates or same-year, fearing annoyance or class backlash. But with Kagura at their door, they pounced.
Surrounded, he raised hands to keep distance, lest some grab his to press against their chests or thighs. Imagine the rumors! Yukino would lecture him for days.
As the crowd grew overwhelming, Shiko appeared.
Her waist-length black hair rivaled Yukino's, her figure matched Kawasaki's, her skin was porcelain, and her beauty top-tier. Among third-years, she was dubbed "the commoner's Mai Sakurajima"—not lesser, but Mai's fame and status felt untouchable.
In Kagura's memory, her signature was a white headband and ever-present sheer black pantyhose—10–30 denier in summer, 40–80 in fall/spring, thicker in cold. To guys, thickness didn't matter; the allure sufficed. Rip them off for the real stuff anyway.
"Yawn…"
Shiko covered her mouth with her left hand, right hand dangling, hips swaying as she approached the girls encircling Kagura.
The girls fell silent, glancing around, then parted in self-conscious retreat. Shiko strode wordlessly, the crowd thinning as she neared, until, face-to-face with Kagura, they'd all dispersed.
Her lashes were longer than average but shorter than Yulia's or Miko's standout ones. Like Kei, she wore faint eyeshadow—Kei's peach or pale red, Shiko's pale purple today, matching her natural eye color. Beyond lip balm, her face was bare, yet her innate beauty outshone most. Makeup skipped for time—writers were busy.
Sleep trumped morning primping.
Two years ago, she'd dressed similarly. He'd thought her purple eyes were contacts, but they were real.
"Long time no see, what's-his-name… The noble young master who charms girls with a flick of his fingers."
She forced alertness, her left hand now near her chin, right arm across her flat abdomen, left elbow resting on it, hips slightly cocked—a pose exuding subtle allure.
Her skirt hem swayed with her lithe legs, the black pantyhose beneath catching eyes.