Less than a week into his new job, Ken gets fired.
Well, kind of. He hasn't been fired yet, but considering how massively he just fucked up he's sure he will.
At first, he thought the job would be perfect. The Shiratoris were looking for another butler— and hey, wasn't that something Ken could do? What they wanted was someone to help keep their large house clean, tidy, and well-cared for. Ken knows how to clean up all sorts of things, and he's good at following instructions. It can't be that tough, he'd thought.
Like an idiot.
The first few days had gone smoothly. Sakata, his fellow butler, had shown him around, told him which rooms were to be avoided and which objects he was to take special care with, and Ken soaked up every bit of information like a sponge. He dusted shelves, made beds, and washed clothes without a single word of complaint.
Why would he even want to complain, anyways? He needed a job so badly, and the perfect one practically fell into his lap. He'd do nothing but sing the Shiratori family's praises for the rest of his life if it wouldn't impede his work.
Everything had been perfect, really, up until fifteen minutes ago. The Shiratoris were hosting a dinner party, and he'd been enlisted to help serve the many attendees. Nothing too tough. All he had to do was carry a tray out of the kitchen, down a short hall, and into the dining room.
He'd (stupidly) thought it would be easy-peasy, and was promptly proven wrong when he was handed a large tray laden with steaming earthenware bowls. It was far heavier than he expected, and the moment the chef pulled her hands away, his arms gave out.
The tray toppled to the floor with a terrible clatter, bowls cracking and spilling their contents on the floor. Ken swears his heart stops.
Behind him, someone curses under their breath. The chef stares at him with a truly murderous look in her eyes. Ken drops to his knees immediately, wincing as shards of clay dig into his skin and hot broth soaks into his pants.
"I'm so sorry, Ma'am!" He cries, head bowed and hands hovering just above the ground to avoid the mess.
"Sorry, are you?" She asks sharply. Ken doesn't dare to lift his head. The chef is shockingly burly despite her old age, and he had no doubts that she can snap him in half like a toothpick if she so pleases.
"Y-Yes! So sorry! I didn't realize how heavy it was going to be, but I promise, I can repay the cost of everything!" He says hurriedly. He really can't afford to do that, but what else was there to do? He's going to be in huge trouble no matter what!
He hears her sigh loudly. "Kids these days." She mutters. Ken's not a kid! He's eighteen, damn it! But he won't say a word about that. "Get out of my kitchen." She demands. "Go see the head maid. She'll take care of you."
A shiver runs down Ken's spine. He'd heard rumors regarding the head maid— that she was absolutely ruthless in everything she did, from keeping the house spotless… to disciplining misbehaving staff. What would taking care of him entail?
Nevertheless, he stumbles to his feet, brushing clay shards off his pants. "Yes, Ma'am!" He cries, bowing as deeply as he can before scampering for the exit, positively ablaze with shame.
His face feels like it's going to melt off. How was it even possible to make a mistake so huge? What the hell is wrong with Ken?! He pulls at his hair, groaning so loudly it echoed through the empty hallway.
"I got too cocky," He mutters, hands not leaving his hair. "Didn't even think I'd mess up like that… stupid Ken."
The head maid's office was near the servant's chambers— which was really just a cramped room where they'd change into their uniforms upon arriving for the day. He knows how to get there, yet his feet still drag. How much more trouble would he be in if he ran away and never showed his face in public again?
…a lot, probably.
Ken sighs, hands dropping to his sides, and trudges his way to her office. He stares at the door for several long minutes, paralyzed by anxiety.
All he can do now is hope she'll be nice about firing him.
Ken reaches up, rapping his knuckles against the smooth, sturdy wood, and waits. The seconds creep by at a snail's pace.
After a minute, he begins to worry she isn't here. How long will he have to wait for? Was she busy helping with the dinner party too? That would mean hours of waiting!
Maybe he should just let himself in and wait there? He knocks again just to be sure, and when another minute passes without anything happening, resigns himself to intruding.
Ken stares at it for a few more seconds, then pulls it open and steps in. As the heavy door creaks shut behind him, he is overcome by the unexpectedly sweet, fruity aroma filling the small office.
He expected it to smell like dust or old lady, but really, it's… very nice. A glass vase of pink lilies sits on the ornate wooden desk beside what looks like a pink nail file. Lining the walls are many tall wooden shelves, all filled with old books and knickknacks.
Behind the desk is a cushy chair and a large window, the drapes pulled open to allow the golden light of the sunset to pour into the room. It's a lovely office, but Ken finds himself too overcome by his nerves to enjoy it.
He pulls out the second, much simpler chair in front of the desk and sits in it, gazing out at the trees as he awaits the head maid's return. The muted ticking of a clock fills the otherwise silent room.
"Ugh…" The stress was making Ken's head ache. How long can he handle waiting before he totally freaks out like he usually does when he's nervous? Sighing heavily, he reaches upwards to tug at a stray lock of hair.
Curling it around his finger, Ken idly knocks his heel against the chair leg. And then— BANG! The door behind him slams open, startling him so badly he nearly falls over.
"You."
Growls a woman's voice, low with fury. Ken quickly rights himself and stays hunched over, instinctively making himself look smaller and, hopefully, less punchable.
He hears the muted clack of heeled shoes on the thick carpet as the head maid crosses the room and pulls out her own chair, flopping into it with a thump.
He looks up for just a moment, and freezes before he can duck his head again. He expected to be greeted by the sight of some stern old lady, but Miss Ayase… Well, she's certainly nothing like that.
Much to his shock, she appears to be his age, with impeccably-styled brown hair and intense eyes the color of red wine. Even the heavy fabric of her maid uniform and her crossed arms can't hide the elegant curves of her body.
Face growing hot, Ken forces his head back down again. "M-Miss Ayase," He squeaks out, nervously twisting his hands together. He doesn't know what he's meant to say in this situation. Should he try begging for mercy?!
"That's my name." The woman confirms, amusement obvious in her voice. "I heard what happened. You got anything to say for yourself, four-eyes?" She really is nothing like the composed, matronly sort Ken was expecting.
And yes, he did , but the apology he'd been planning out in his head seems to have disappeared. Probably dissolved and turned into the sweat dampening every inch of his body. "Um." He manages. "I'm deeply sorry for… t-the damage…"
Ugh, no way! He sounds like a total fucking dork! He should just let her chew him out and fire him… or whatever else it was that Miss Ayase did with idiot butlers.
Boisterous laughter suddenly fills the room, making Ken jolt. "Aah, are you serious? You– haha– you have about as much confidence as a mouse! How the hell did you get this job?" Miss Ayase asks through sporadic giggles.
"Eh?!" Ken's not sure whether to be offended or feel lucky that he was able to hear her surprisingly beautiful laugh. He sits up straighter to find her with her head thrown back, still laughing and kicking her feet against the carpet. Is it really that funny?!
"S-Stop laughing!" Ken demands, face reddening. She's pretty, he's noticing, especially right now. Even though her jubilance is at his expense.
She shrieks in response, rolling to one side and hunching over the arm of her chair. The laughter stops quickly after. Good, or else Ken's heart might have given out. Taking deep, measured breaths, Miss Ayase shuts her eyes before straightening up again.
She crosses one leg over the other, making her long skirt rustle slightly and ride up to expose expensive-looking loafers. Ken's gaze flicks from them to her pink-flushed face. "Sorry, dude." She says breathlessly, reaching up to adjust her bangs.
"Alright, where was I?" She asks, not exactly of him. Firing me, he thinks anyway. She claps her hands together, making him jolt. "Got it! Yeah, Banga told me what went down. Don't sweat it. You're new, it happens to all of us."
Ken's jaw drops. Did he hear her correctly?
Picking up on his confusion, Miss Ayase continues on, still idly toying with her hair. "I'm not firing you or anything, alright, dude? But there is gonna be a little disciplinary action. Nothing harsh. Just a lesson." The corners of her mouth jerk slightly before smoothing out into a pleasant smile.
Mouth still agape, Ken stares at her. He's not fired?! That was great! All he had to do now was sit through some kind of lesson. Probably something to do with properly serving food? He snaps his mouth shut and gets to his feet, bowing.
"Thank you, Miss Ayase! I'm very grateful for your ki—"
She cuts him off with a click of her tongue. "Don't thank me yet." Miss Ayase tells him, her tone slightly colder than before. "Stand up and put your hands out."
Ken freezes for a few seconds, then hesitantly straightens his back and gets to his feet. Miss Ayase is standing as well, pulling open one of her desk's drawers with a quiet rasping sound. She reaches in and casts him a meaningful glance.
Oh, no. This wasn't, like… a painful lesson, was it? Ken grimaces, but complies anyways. He holds out his hands palm-up, tensing in anticipation.
"Wrists together, please." She corrects, withdrawing a length of black fabric from the drawer and nudging it shut with her knee. Ken's gaze catches on the fabric. What was that? It looks soft and innocuous enough, but he has no clue what she'll do with it. "Eh—"
Miss Ayase rolls her beautiful eyes. "Hurry up!" She groans, all composure suddenly lost. Yelping, Ken puts the insides of his wrists together like she asked, sweat-dampened skin sliding slightly.
She nods in approval, then reaches over the desk and begins to wrap the fabric around his wrists. Instinct tells Ken to flinch away and demand she tell him what the hell is going on, but he manages to fight it and keep still.
The broad strip of fabric is soft and silky on Ken's skin. He doesn't feel any discomfort, even when she finishes tying the ends in a tight knot.
Ken stares down at his hands for a long moment, briefly transfixed by the contrast of the black ribbon against his pale skin, and her delicate hands on top of it all. Her teal-painted nails trace over the knot a few times.
"Miss Ayase, why do you need my hands tied?" He asks quietly, not daring to test the strength of his bindings lest he truly anger her.
She hums softly. "There's something new I wanna try. You're lucky, y'know. First dibs." She chuckles in a way that only worsens Ken's anxiety. What does she mean by that? Is she testing out a new torture method on him?!
Miss Ayase's glossy, soft-looking lips part, and perhaps it's only Ken's imagination, but her gaze seems to flick up, then down again, almost like she's checking him out. Her pupils, too, seem to dilate— but that could be his imagination as well.
Swallowing hard, Ken watches Miss Ayase take slow steps around the side of her desk until she's standing mere inches away from him.
Her cheeks redden, then she steps sideways, slotting herself between the desk and his body. Ken takes a step back. She moves closer. He takes another, and she reaches out, grabbing him by the collar.
An unmanly yelp escapes Ken.
"Miss Ayase!" He protests, flailing, but with his hands bound he can't push her away properly, and her grip on his shirt is almost impossibly tight. "Don't be a baby," She hisses, then releases his collar to tug on his bow tie.
She simply pinches one end between two manicured fingertips and pulls. It comes undone easily, like it'd never even been tied in the first place. The air in Ken's lungs rushes out all at once in a trembling cry.
She's so close. Just a few short inches away from him. He can feel her breath on his skin, and smell it too— it's sweet and fruity, just like the rest of the air surrounding them. Ken's heart pounds like it's trying to break out of his chest.
"T-This can't be appropriate, Miss Ayase!" He frets, because surely it isn't— surely there's a rule that says Ken isn't allowed to stand this close to his superior and let her remove parts of his uniform!
But if there is, Ken hasn't heard of it, and he doubts Miss Ayase has either. She releases the tie, letting it slide off Ken's neck and down to the floor, and slowly, almost seductively, slides her hands down to the front of his vest.
"Mm… Yeah. Probably." She agrees softly. Ken gapes at her. This is torture, isn't it?! She's using some kind of horrible, unorthodox method to stop his heart so she doesn't have to bother with paperwork!
A single painted nail traces over the buttons on his vest, quietly click-click-clicking. "You gonna do anything about it?" She asks teasingly. There's a hard look in her eyes. Intense. Almost predatory.
Suddenly Ken feels a little weak in the knees. He watches as she catches the first button between her fingers, slowly sliding it through the buttonhole. "Oh, God." Breathes Ken, face flaming hot. This feels so wrong— and he likes it.
Miss Ayase smirks, fingertips gliding further down his chest and undoing the rest of the buttons in the same torturously slow manner. His heart is still racing when she slips her fingers beneath his vest. "Miss…" He whimpers.
The warmth of her fingers soaks through his collared shirt to reach his bare chest beneath. Can she feel how fast his pulse is? There's no way she can't.
Ken tries to stop her before she can take this any further, but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a strangled groan. She titters in response, fingers creeping up his chest like spiders. A shudder wracks Ken's body.
"You're sensitive, aren't you?" She asks, sounding utterly delighted by how deeply affected he is. "M-Maybe," He wheezes in response. She beams.
Oh, that smile. It's beautiful, at odds with her brash manner of speaking and her total disregard for Ken's boundaries. He sighs, then shrieks when Miss Ayase presses closer, trapping his bound hands between their stomachs, and starts unbuttoning his shirt with far less patience than before.
Ken produces another embarrassing, breathless noise. The air feels bitingly cold on his overheated skin, flushed hot with embarrassment and what he's rapidly understanding is arousal.
He's liking this. There's something hot about allowing this woman— his superior, who he barely even knows!— to overpower and undress him. Ken's conscious mind might not know what that something is, but his body certainly does.
His shirt is halfway open when she pauses, looking him in the eyes for a moment before Ken averts his gaze. Her eyes, too, are beautiful, and looking right into them has potential for danger.
"Hang on," She coos, wrapping her delicate hands around his wrists. "Look over here."
Ken shakes his head.
"I'm not asking," She singsongs, nails digging into his skin.
"I can't right now." Ken grits out through clenched teeth, trying as hard as possible to stave off the erection trying valiantly to form in his pants. She's close enough that she'd feel it! No way he's letting that happen.
"Dude, come on, just look at me. Ten seconds." Insists Miss Ayase, her tone much firmer. Her nails press even harder against his poor wrists, and Ken bites his lip to muffle a cry of pain.
He shakes his head so hard his glasses begin to slip down his nose, and she sighs. "Whatever. Jackass." She grumbles, pushing his hands up against his chest. "Keep these here."
Startled but compliant, Ken obeys, fingers brushing his chin as she unbuttons the rest of his shirt. Both it and his vest hang open, exposing his chest and stomach.
Miss Ayase steps back, wearing a small smirk on her pink-flushed face. Ken swallows hard. "Miss Ayase?" He asks tentatively.
"What is this?"
He's not sure what kind of response he expects from her, but he's caught off-guard when her smirk grows into a wickedly gleeful grin. His stomach twists with a combination of anxiety and desire.
"It's a lesson." She states, crossing her arms over her chest. Ken lets out a shaky breath, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. Hers, on the other hand, roam freely, starting at his reddening face and moving lower.
Her gaze rakes over his chest, taking in sleek musculature, pert pectorals and not-too-prominent abdominal muscles.
"I already told you that, didn't I?" She asks, the tip of her tongue sticking out to moisten her soft, already shiny lips. Ken clenches his jaw. "Keep up." Adds Miss Ayase.
That's not possible! He's in over his head already and she hasn't even touched him skin-to-skin. Ken manages a tentative nod, untrusting of his mouth.
Miss Ayase sighs, then sidesteps out of view. Ken flinches, turning after her, but when something presses against his back he freezes up again. "Wah!" He yips, the sound high-pitched and pathetic.
A puff of warm air tickles the back of his neck alongside a soft giggle. "You can handle this, right?" Croons Miss Ayase. Her hands find his waist, squeezing gently before beginning a slow journey up his front.
"Ugh…" Ken chokes out, shuddering at the combined sensations of pleasure and ticklishness brought on by her featherlight touches. Her fingers brush up and up, tracing over his stomach and ribs.
His breathing picks up noticeably, another groan escaping him when her hands meet the underside of his arms, unable to move any further with them in the way. She pushes, and Ken raises them higher, bound wrists resting on the top of his head to allow her full access.
Somehow, the slight change in positioning makes Ken ten times weaker to her touch. He tries and fails to bite back pitiful groans and whimpers as she continues to caress his overheated skin. "Totes sensitive." She notes, tone absolutely dripping with smugness.
Her hands finally reach his pecs, teasingly tapping at his nipples. Ken jolts as pleasure zings down his spine and straight into his stiffening member. "Ugh, Miss Ayase, wait—" He chokes out. There's no way he can handle her doing that again!
But with his hands tied, there's not much he could do other than trap hers in place, and he doesn't think that will do much in his favor.
A soft giggle reaches his ears, the sound of it both beautiful and torturous. What about doing this to him makes her so happy? Ken whimpers in response.
She swipes her fingertips over his hard nipples again, drawing out a second whiny vocalization. "Aaah, M-Miss…" He wheezes. There's another laugh, then something hot and wet grazes the shell of his ear.
She's— she's licking him? That should be gross, but for some reason far beyond Ken's comprehension, he doesn't recoil or protest, but instead only shudders and tilts his head back. "There's a good boy." Murmurs Miss Ayase, nipping at his earlobe. "Aah…" He breathes in response, voice just as shaky as his legs.
Ken feels completely helpless as Miss Ayase continues to tease his chest with gentle rubs and flicks. He had no idea it could feel so good to be touched there— never even thought to do it to himself— but he definitely doesn't want her to stop.
Luckily for him, it doesn't seem like she's planning to, anyway.
As the minutes creep past, Miss Ayase's handling of him grows rougher, moving past the gentle touches to borderline abuse his chest. Ken cries out when she pinches his nipples between her index and middle fingers, making him shake in response to the intense mixture of pain and pleasure.
"Miss Ayase, that hurts," He whines. Not because he's uncomfortable, but because he wants her to know how she's making him feel. Ken's at her mercy now, and he won't try to stop her, no matter the pain she inflicts. She hums in his ear.
"Does it?"
Ken produces a warbling moan in response, his eyes sliding shut. He feels hot all over, especially his chest. The constant motion of her hands has his blood flowing fast, rushing noisily in his ears and filling his cock, making a truly indecent bulge in his pants that he hopes she doesn't notice.
This is a lesson, after all. He's not supposed to be getting off on it, no matter how fucking good the feeling of having his nipples played with is.
"Hnng, it does, Miss," He confirms. She licks the side of his neck and squeezes his chest, trapping the hard buds of his nipples between her fingers.
Ken groans. "Good." Croons Miss Ayase, pulling her hands away. For a few seconds, Ken stands there, sweaty and fidgeting, and stares. He adjusts his own hands on top of his head, feeling soft strands of hair brush against them. He starts to feel nervous again. What was she waiting for? Was whatever this was over?
Then his cock throbs in his pants, so erect it's beginning to ache, and Ken forgets most of what he'd been worrying about. For now, his only concern is getting her lovely, elegant hands back on him as soon as possible.
He tilts his head back, their cheeks brushing. "Miss Ayase," he whispers. Her face is so hot, almost burning. "Are you gonna keep going?"
There are a thousand better ways Ken could've asked, but really, he doesn't care about fitting the perfect, verbose butler role. His chest feels cold without her hands on it. It'd be so much more comfortable with them back where they belonged.
She makes an adorable squeaking noise, ducking her head to push against Ken's shoulder. "D-Don't be so demanding!" She whines. A few seconds pass, then she sighs, the heat of her breath reaching Ken's skin through the layers of clothing. "But, um, if you like it that much, I guess I will."
A happy sigh gusts past Ken's parted lips. "Thank you." He murmurs. There's another cute little eep in his ear and then her hands are on him again, shamelessly kneading his chest muscles. He moans softly. The thoughts in his head, once racing lightning-fast with anxiety, move slower than molasses.
Ken begins to shake again when she kisses his ear and pinches both nipples at once. "M-Miss Aya– agh…" A twinge of pain from his arms cuts through the rising pleasure, making him flinch. Keeping them up like this is getting uncomfortable, but he can't move them until she says so. He'll endure it.
Regardless, the discomfort quickly fades and is replaced by the almost unbearable heat Miss Ayase's fingers instill in him. He's painfully hard, totally neglected from the waist down, and unexpectedly fine with it. Maybe he'd even be okay with her doing this forever.
Miss Ayase's breasts squish closer to his back. "You're really cute, you know." She comments. Then, a moment later; "Are you hard yet?" He huffs indignantly at her blunt manner of asking, but stays still when she rises on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. "Woah! Okay, um, wow. You're hard hard." She whispers, sounding impressed.
Ken's torn between the desire to hide his face in embarrassment or preen. He is… really hard. She's right to act the way she did about it. But still! It's a little overwhelming! "I guess I am." He agrees nervously.
Again Miss Ayase's tongue meets the side of his neck, tracing white-hot trails over his skin as one of her hands creeps lower. "Ah, are you—" Ken begins, then cuts himself off with a feeble whine when she uncerimoniously grabs his dick through his pants.
Ken staggers, legs barely able to keep himself upright, and she slides her other hand down as well, gripping his waist tightly. "Are you seriously gonna fall over just 'cause I'm touchin' you?" She asks, lips moving against his throat.
She must be able to feel his pulse racing.
"S-Sorry…" Squeaks Ken. "'s fine. I like it." She responds with a playful squeeze to his shaft, leaving him weak in the knees once again. A soft hum buzzes against his skin.
Those first few exploratory squeezes shift into full-on fondling after a minute, and Ken doesn't know what to do with himself or how to respond. All he can do is tremble in her grasp and throw his head back, breathing in her sweet scent.
"Aahn, Miss Ayaseee…" He groans, hips jerking into her touch almost on their own. He can't stop himself— it feels too good—
As soon as he realizes that, her hand is gone. A confused whine slips past Ken's bitten lips. "Okay. That's enough." She says against his neck, only worsening his confusion, and then steps away.
Her hands land on his upper arms, pushing them down and spinning him at the same time, and then he's facing her with his hands held against his chest. "Aah…"
Miss Ayase looks more of a mess than he'd expected. Her face is firetruck red, and there's a wild look in her wine-toned eyes.
"You did pretty good." She tells him. Ken's stomach flutters. "But we aren't done, understand? Not yet." She steps back, and Ken follows, trotting after her until her back hits the door.
"You need to work on your strength," Begins Miss Ayase, crossing her arms. "So what I want you to do now is lift me up and fuck me against this door, without putting me down, until I cum. Got it?"
She smiles sweetly, but her eyes still maintain that ravenous gleam. Ken feels his heart rate double in a matter of seconds. "Ah. Y-You want… me? To f-fu…" He can't bring himself to say it. No way he heard her correctly. She can't… isn't that… it's way too lewd!
"Right here?!" He cries, caught between panic and overpowering arousal. He's still achingly hard and hot all over, but his mind is clearing without her hands on him and he knows that having sex in her office is absolutely not appropriate behavior.
"Uh-huh. You're not deaf, are you? Now c'mere." She pats her thighs encouragingly, and as Ken stares incredulously, crouches down to lift the bottom of her dress. He watches her gather up the lengthy skirt and pull it all the way up to her waist.
Ken chokes. She's– she's–
"Oh my God," He whimpers. Miss Ayase is practically nude beneath it, wearing tall white socks that reach her thighs and absolutely nothing else. She grins, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "Hurry up, dummy. You want a piece of this or what?"
Swallowing heavily, he nods, moving closer until they're face-to-face. She drops her skirt and wrenches his hands toward her, pulling at the knotted ribbon with her fingernails until it comes loose. She lets it fall to the floor, lifting the hem of her dress once again.
"Pick me up." She demands, sounding more than a little bratty. Ken giggles breathlessly. "Um. Okay. Uh…" His hands tremble as he reaches for her, not sure where he's supposed to put them. Where would be best…?
She huffs impatiently and reaches for his belt, undoing it one-handed. "Uwah, M-Miss, wait–" Ken blusters, reaching for her hand, but she smacks it away. "Already told you to pick me up." She grumbles. "D'you want to fuck me or not?"
Oh, God, she's so crass! Ken's face burns, but he really, really does, so he nods. He tentatively extends his hands, half-distracted by her yanking his pants open, and places them on the backs of her thighs. That seems like a good place to hold her, right? Yeah… probably…
He tightens his grip and lifts her up, stepping close to lean her up against the wall. Miss Ayase's legs wrap around his own, bringing them closer yet. Ken gasps.
His penis… it's touching her! He can feel the heat and moisture of her vagina through the thin fabric of his underwear. "Hnng," Grunts Ken, squeezing his eyes shut. He needs to focus, or else he'll drop her!
Miss Ayase giggles sweetly, reaching between them to fish Ken's erection out of his underwear. He shivers, feeling it bob and twitch in the warm air, then fall to rest against her pubic mound. Soft hair and heat brush the underside.
She fidgets in his arms. "S-Stop," Whines Ken. "I don't want to drop you, please." His voice is strained, and he resolutely keeps his eyes shut, because he knows for sure if he looks down he'll lose it.
"You won't." Decides Miss Ayase. She grasps his cock by the base, angling her hips further up, and Ken's eyes fly open. He can't restrain himself any longer, and peers down between them, transfixed by the image of her slim, manicured fingers wrapped delicately around his penis. The pink-flushed skin contrasts nicely with her teal fingernails.
"Aah, please, Miss Ayase," Ken breathes. She gives it a few slow strokes, fingers tracing up and down the shaft. A pearl of clear liquid beads at the crown, trickling down and out of Ken's sight.
He glances up to find her red-faced and panting, eyes half-lidded. She glances at him through long lashes and smiles, the tip of her tongue poking between her teeth. "P-Pretty…" Whispers Ken.
That took a lot out of him. But he's happy, too, and satisfied. He feels lucky that he gets to do things like this with Momo.
"Good." He summarizes. Momo chuckles. "That's it? Just good?" She teases, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek. "Mmm… a little gross. Can we shower together?" He asks hopefully.
That gets another lovely little giggle from her, and she kisses him on the mouth this time, lingering only for a moment before moving back.
"Of course we can."