>[X] Let's do it.
"Turning Japanese I think I'm turning Japanese I really think soooo! Dun dun dun dun dun dun!"
Rose2 shimmies and sashays around the tiny karaoke booth, dancing totally out sync and singing totally out of tune with the music. Her pleated plaid skirt follows the momentum of her hips at a seeming lag, making you almost dizzy. You pour yourself another glass, and you're glad you opted for the largest bottle of sake they had.
"Come on, Ally! Dance!"
"That won't be happening," you say gruffly.
"I got your picture! Of me and you! You wrote I love you -- I wrote me too!"
Like a screeching monkey, you think -- or maybe an industrial grinder set to high. She ducks and twirls on one foot, propelling herself across the room in some sort of mad caricature of a pirouette. It sends her sailing, and she lands on her back in your lap. She gazes into your eyes, holds the mic to her lips and croons: "I often kiss you when there's no one else around~"
You put your hand beneath her back and help her to an upright position. She scoots over on the couch, settling beside you. She grabs your shot glass from the small table.
"That's illegal," you warn her, not that you really care.
"Pfft. I drink all the time." She takes a swig, and the pucker she makes indicates that maybe she was fibbing about being a big drinker.
She is a trooper, though. She holds the shot glass out and motions for you to fill her up again. You comply.
Without the incoherent wailing that she thinks of as singing, you can hear another sound, from far away, penetrating the supposedly soundproof walls of the karaoke booth.
It's Dr. Carte. "FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! EARTH BEEEEELOOOOWWWW USSSS -- DRIFTINNNNNG, FAAAAAALLING --"
It's somehow even worse than Rose2. Even muted and muffled by the walls, you have the urge to plug your ears against the aural assault.
Rose2 titters. "Is that Dr. Carte?"
"I think so," you say. "I saw her coming in a little earlier."
"Whoaaa... what are the odds, huh? Should we go say hi?"
The hook is baited; the fish is biting. Time to reel it in. "Nah. I'd rather just hang out with you."
Maybe the fishing analogy was wrong. She stares back at you like a timid fawn, petrified in place before the hunter's muzzle. You top her off again but she's so stunned that it takes her several long moments for her to realize it and draw the glass to her mouth.
"You don't mind, right?" You prompt. "Sticking to just the two of us."
"N-no -- of course not."
You take the glass from her and have another shot yourself. It only just now occurs to you that this is the classic indirect kiss scenario. But you're a westerner, and you prefer to be direct rather than indirect. You lean in, clasp Rose2's chin, and plant a kiss square on her lips.
"K... k..." she stutters.
"You okay?"
She nods.
"Dance some more."
On much shakier legs now, she dances and tries to sing along with a classic you can instantly identify despite her butchery: "Plastic Love." You pretend to be rapt, nodding along and tapping your feet to the smooth synthesizer. And then something weird happens: you actually begin to get into it. You sort of enjoy watching her clumsily attempt to sing this Jpop hit. You enjoy it because -- because, well, she's doing it to impress you. She's doing it for you, and only you, and because of that, it somehow elevates the performance.
The sake must be getting to you.
"Come here," you finally say during an extended musical bridge.
"Huhhh?"
The sake is definitely taking its effect -- not just on you, but her as well. Her cheeks are a fittingly rosy shade of pink. She's even slower on the uptake than usual.
You wave her over. It takes a little prodding, but she approaches, and when she's standing in front of you again, you grab her by her tummy, swing her around, and get her in your lap.
You rest your chin on her shoulder. "Keep singing," you instruct her. Her hair really does smell like bubblegum. She's incredibly warm.
"I-I'm just playing games--" she drawls, trying to sing. "I kn-know it's plastic love--"
"You're pretty good at this," you lie. "Do you do karaoke a lot?"
"Uh-- a little..."
You grip her tighter, your arm around her midsection - it's got a nice give to it. "Geez, you're shaking a lot. You're like a little bird, you know that?"
"Ah-- s-sorry--"
"Why is that? Are you all right?"
"It's just..." she begins, but then she trails off, worrying her lip. The next music track begins, another soft 80s pop song of some kind. But no one's going to be providing the vocals this time. You take the mic from her and set it aside.
"It's just what?" You ask.
"It's just... oh, I can't say..."
She wriggles in your grasp, but you hold her fast, and try again. You whisper, pushing the hair away from her ear: "You can say. It's fine. We're all alone."
"A-Alabas-- Ally.... it's just... somehow or another, you make me feel kinda... kinda tingly..."
"Here?" You ask, pushing your forearm against her belly button. She nods uncertainly.
"Where else?" You ask, nuzzling her. You plant a tender kiss on her neck.
"L-lower--"
"Your feet?"
"Uh..."
"Show me, then."
She wraps her tiny fingers around your hand, and you let her pull your arm away from her torso. She guides your hand now, directing it downwards, across the soft fabric of her gaudy skirt -- finally allowing you to cup her crotch. She seems almost reluctant to let go of you, to allow you full control with your grip on her like this.
"Th-there," she says.
"I see," you whisper. "I make your cunt tingle."
She gasps through gritted teeth. You take the hem of the skirt and flip it up, bearing her pantied crotch, the striped white-and-strabwerry-pink fabric darkly stained already with a quickly growing wetness.
"It's all right," you say soothingly. "I'll fuck you, if you want."
"Alabasterrrr--" she whines, bucking her hips against the air. You rub her through her panties a little, just a little, to tease her.
"Nnn..." she coos.
You spin her around, get her on the couch, planting at the point where the seat meets the armrest. She doesn't fight you. In fact, she raises her butt a little as you slide her skirt down, to help you get it off. You toss it aside and it lands over the TV screen, where lyrics are still scrolling past unheeded.
"Can we do this here?" She asks, suddenly aware of being exposed, and growing doubtful.
"I can't wait. I wanna fuck you right here."
She draws her hands to her chest, her little hands balling up, and nods tremblingly.
You pull down her panties next. Now the first-ever look at her cunt, and it's prettier than you expected. Symmetrical, pale pink lips, just slightly turned-out and engorged, and a sweet little slit in between that looks really inviting. And somehow, like the hair on her head, her shaved little pussy is weirdly redolent of bubblegum. Maybe that's just your brain drawing an errant connection. But the scent of her cunt is sweeter than any girl you've ever been with.
You glance up. She's got her face covered with both hands -- embarrassed to be on display.
"Look at me."
You have to force her hands away. Then reaching down, you unbuckle your belt, unzip your jeans, step out of your pants. "Take it out," you tell her, nodding at the bulge in your boxers.
She reaches up and does it. The hesitation of her motions only makes your dick even harder. She's more than a little scared: of the potential to be caught, of her first time with you -- of your size, too.
But she knows what you want -- and she knows what SHE wants, too. She hooks her hands beneath her knees and spreads her legs for you. The lips of her pussy part, just barely. "Fuck me..." she says, her voice small and pinched.
You get directly over her and root around, finding her opening with the tip of your prick. She chews her lower lip again, a nervous tic, it seems, and you try to force yourself in. But there's a problem. Her pussy is so tight that you almost can't get into it. It might be -- no, it is -- the smallest hole you've ever fucked. You never would have expected it, but this girl has a cunt so little that it almost hurts you as it squeezes and clings against your invading shaft.
You grit your teeth and feel the sweat pearling on your forehead. Rose2 is in hardly any better shape. Though her juicing cunt is sucking and spasming around your cock, and obviously giving her the same electric jolts of pleasure that you feel, there's discomfort on her part as well. Tiny little pips and moans and gasps escape her lips, and her eyes are wide as she watches the spot where you're mated. You're barely halfway sunk into her before she's making so much noise that a distant, rational part of your mind sends out alarm bells. Thinking quick, you reach down and cover her mouth with the palm of your hand. She shivers at the somewhat humiliating gesture, but you don't care -- you need to get all the way inside her, and she's gonna be loud about it, so you need to shut her up while you do it.
Unable to get any purchase from this angle, you decide to call on gravity's assistance. You push her back, way back, so that her thighs are practically touching her cheeks. You crawl atop her, forcing your entire weight onto her defenseless body. She screams, muffled by your hand, and then the air is knocked out of her completely as you settle in with a satisfied grunt. Your raging dick plunges deeper than you thought possible. Like this, you have total access -- you can get into her completely, and enjoy the silky soft feeling of her pussy, the pressure of it, the hot wetness inside.
Since she's winded now, you can take your hand away, and hook your arms underneath hers to give you even better leverage. You fuck her like this, pressing and forcing her ever deeper into the plush couch cushions, bouncing her back and forth like a ragdoll -- using her. It's quick and brutal and her eyes begin to roll into the back of her skull. You don't know whether it's a put-on or a learned behavior or simply instinctual -- but her mouth droops open, her tongue lolls out, and she begins to drool stupidly. It's an expression you know quite well.
"D... d..." she gasps like a person drowned, hardly able to gather the air to vocalize anything at all. "D-dick... d-dick..."
For the purely perverted fun of it, you snake a hand around the opposite side of her face from below, so that you can fish-hook her. She doesn't try to stop you. Not that she could if she wanted to. Instead, her dreamy, unfocused eyes meet yours and she gazes lovingly back at you as you degrade her even further.
"I'm gonna cum in you," you tell her.
"N... nnnn..." she tries around your finger.
"Fuck... I'm gonna fucking cum in you--"
"N-not-- n-nnot insideee... not saaaafe... c-cum on my face-- pleasshe--!!"
"Too late!" You shout, and feel the lovely release of those valves deep inside your belly, the race of cum down your urethra and through your piss slit, the gooey blast of your sperm into her body. You hump her wildly, burying your face in her neck, pushing into her, pressing her even harder, mating her out.
Her tongue wags as you fill her and she nearly passes out. Her droopy face going even droopier as she accepts your seed. You've never seen an ahegao so perfect. She must have been practicing.
GIRLS FUCKED: 6/12