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“When you said your balls were missing earlier,” She stretches casually, “Does that mean you can’t, um…”
Okarun's face pinks, “I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?!”
“What? I've been staying at your place! I haven't had time.”
“Why does being at my place affect your masturbation schedule?”
It's Okarun’s turn to be confused. “What kind of question is that? Would you masturbate in a guestroom of someone else's home?”
Momo doesn't hesitate, “Yeah.”
The tension between them fizzles into nothing when Okarun doesn't have a verbal response, rather he stares flabbergasted at her. Why would she tell him that? The silence of the confession stretches for a moment too long and she begins to second guess herself.
“Wait, is that weird?”
Okarun opens his mouth to reply but she cuts him off. “Don't answer that, actually.” She smothers her face with her hand, “The point is—I'm now curious if you can nut.”
Defensively, Okarun puts his hands in front of his crotch. “What's it to you?”
“Just curious.” She snaps her fingers as if she gained a new idea, “It would be interesting if you can—” Her voice gets much quieter, “Or if it works as a contraceptive.”
His face goes more red. Hers does too.
“Do...” He begins and then loses steam. He adjusts his glasses before trying again, “Do you want to find out?”
Momo didn't expect such a bold question from him. She runs her hands through her hair. “Yes I—” She clears her throat, rephrasing to, “Yeah, kinda.” She's too shy to look him directly in his face.
“With me?” This conversation is the most honest conversation she's ever had in her life. All gas no brakes.
She shrugs. Might as well go along with it. “You're cool.” I trust you.
He looks down, grasping for metaphorical straws to not go forward with what Momo has proposed, “I don't know if it will work as a contraceptive, it seems a little dangerous to assume it will.”
She just shrugs again. Nervous, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and states as casually as she can, “We can see what happens with just my hands.” She raises her hands up in the air, palms facing him to punctuate her statement. An unspoken prompt for permission to touch in the same sentence.
When he acknowledges her silent request to touch and doesn't back away, she shifts her hands over his lap and then onto the fabric of his pants. He leans back, sinking back to lay on the hardwood floor.
Momo seats herself between his legs. He closes his eyes as she rubs the zipper of his pants. He covers his eyes with his forearms when she starts to unzip his pants. It’s a cute gesture, and one of trust for her hands. She can’t help but poke him about it, for fun.
“Don't wanna look at me during this?” She fake pouts.
His arms immediately lift off his face. He props his body up with one hand braced against the floor. The other arm extends outward, to Momo’s jawline. His fingers slide along the skin of her lower face, before his fingertips slip past her ear and rest on the back of her head.
“I want to—maybe too much.” His tone is alarmingly quiet, every word spoken like a confession that she doesn’t have the mental energy to process. She can acknowledge it's there, at least.
As his fingers sink into her hair, so do his words. The suggestion of it all, with his hand on the back of her head as he rubs her scalp with his fingertips. He grabs strands of her hair with more confidence than she's ever seen from him. His hold is gentle despite his grip. His face is innocent, flushed along his nose, too innocent compared to the suggestions of his hand.
She's unsure if it's the weight of his hand or the weight of the suggestion that causes her to lower her ribcage, as she leans over his lap. His hand perched on her skull shifts with the motion easily. Encouragingly.
They stare at each other like that. Her body bent over his lower half, her face hovering above his cock. The only motion between them are his fingers stroking her scalp, and her fingers sliding in small motions on him.
“You don't have to do this, Miss Ayase.”
“I want to.” She interjects. That phrasing has him cancel whatever he planned to say next, mouth closing from whatever thought had formed.
So she licks him, and then strokes his cock in full with her hand. He inhales sharply and exhales slowly as she repeats the process. When she shifts to sucking his head while pumping her hand, she feels his fingers twitch in her hair. She looks up at him.
He gets something out of brushing her hair from her eyes, which has become disheveled since she’s leaned over his lap. The hand on her head returns to the back of her scalp, now holding a few strands of hair back for her. It’s actually helpful, and she takes his cock into her mouth deeper.
He curses in response, and when she does it again, he licks his lips.
“I'm going to cum if you keep doing that.” His voice sounds sweet to her ears when he's this aroused.
It’s only additional incentive for her now. She repeats the motion he likes two more times, looking at him for the duration until he suddenly lifts her head off of him, using his hand on her head. Her mouth pops off his tip, and she watches intently as his cock throbs, bright red.
Dry.
“No cum.” She says wondrously. It's only now that he remembers to breathe.
She squeezes his cock in her hand and he flinches. “Is it just as sensitive as usual?” He nods readily, not looking at her. He adds shyly that it felt way better than usual. He doesn’t mention that it might be because of her rather than the absence of his balls.
“I like that.” His face only gets more red. The implications of her liking that he had a good time aren't lost on him. He wipes sweat off his forehead.
She stands up, business as usual, before shimmying out of her nightwear bottoms and panties. She steps over his waist, with a foot next to each side of his hips.
“Uh, Miss Ayase?” She hums while starting to kneel down. The intent finally clear to Okarun, he rapidly sits up and grabs her hips, stilling their descent. He shakes his head violently.
“You don't just immediately go to doing… that.” Momo stares at him blankly, tilting her head to the side in silent question.
“You need a warm-up.”
She flushes before asking him what he means. He responds by pulling her to the side, shifting his body to grab pillows and the blanket from his allocated sleep linens she brought in earlier.
Laying down soft materials, she enjoys the way the clean blanket feels along the skin of her legs. He turns to her seated on the blanket, and guides her to gently lay on her back.
“Do you want to keep your sweater on, or do you want it off?”
She asks him what he wants to see. He shakes his head 'no', and states she should do whatever is more comfortable.
While she opts to keep her sweater on, she does shuffle around to pull off her bra from under her shirt. Nervously, she looks up at him, not entirely sure what a "warm-up" means to him. Or for her body. Or why he is even caring for her body to this degree. That's not something that her asshole ex ever bothered with.
Her curiosity piquing again as he lifts her legs by her knees and settles between them, placing them on either side of his lap, before sliding his hands curiously along her outer thighs, and then turning them inwards more deviously.
He rubs her upper inner thighs in tandem, slowly. Over and over. Never once straying from their preset path. The faithfulness of his hands to the pattern they draw on her skin, makes her want him to do things—other things, anything—to her more.
He's not touching her in a sexual manner, but the proximity of his fingertips to where she wants them (so bad) does so much. More than she ever expected from her body’s reaction. Her legs spread themselves more of their own volition. He hasn't touched her pussy once and she's aroused knowing that he can probably see how wet she is. Whether out of shyness or respect, he makes no comment on it.
Instead asking, “Can I, uh, lift your legs?”
She lifts them up, knees bent, and his hands slide to her lower thighs. He then pushes her legs back, towards her chest. The sensation of her legs being spread by his warm (so warm) hands is erotic. Only now does she come to terms with how he's looming over her like this. It's kind of hot.
He looks really good when she's underneath him.
Not to mention the way he looks down at her also does strange things to her. Maybe it's because she can't hide her body from him in the present position. Maybe it's the way he reacts, cursing under his breath when he lets go of her legs and she holds them spread open for him.
How lewd.
He bites his lips.
His cock twitches, but he doesn't act on it. Rather he sits back onto his ankles, and resumes rubbing her inner thighs, in the same chaste motion but suggestive proximity as before. Now that her legs are lifted up, his fingers slide along the underside of her inner thighs. A new expanse of sensitive skin.
An even more wet-inducing location for his touch to roam.
“This is kind of embarrassing.” She says to break the silence. As if he hasn't been transfixed on her body. As if he wasn't chatty until he asked her to lift her legs.
It's really his undivided attention and lack of haste in touching her that is driving her nuts. His hands slide to her innermost thigh, right at the juncture of her legs meeting her hips. His fingers and palms press flat and hot across her skin and pubic hair. He pushes his fingertips into her skin before separating his hands gently, spreading her pussy apart without touching it.
“I think you like being embarrassed.” His voice is low. He doesn't look away from where his hands are.
Jeez, maybe she does.
She opens her mouth, only to immediately cover it with her hands when the pad of his thumb strokes over her labia. He huffs, amused at her reaction.
Quick to change the topic, she manages to say, “I think I'm wet enough to take you,” behind a hovering hand. She’s always to the point. Wants to get to the point already, too.
He shakes his dumb head again. How much he's slowing this down makes her stomach flutter. “The goal is your enjoyment.” He seems to have other plans. His hands make no indication to do anything other than rub her thighs the exact same way he’s been doing until her pussy drips.
She swallows thickly in response.
“Do you think you can orgasm like this?” He gestures to her legs in the air. When she agrees, he rubs her pussy and then slides a finger into her before asking, “Is this comfortable?”
Momo feels her shoulders and chest flushing as she nods. Her mouth opens to pant. It's more than comfortable. Being inside of her after so much deliberate avoidance makes his hand feel like heaven. He seems to be aware of this, placing the fingers of his other hand on her clit and repeating the same dumb question. She responds by cursing. He smiles in response, and she likes how he looks when he's happy.
She's not at all distracted by how he pumps his finger in her pussy in time with rubbing her clit.
It's when she moans for the first time in front of him, that the implications of the warm-up sink in. That it's kind of cool. That he's really cool. That he's kind of nice to fool around with. Accommodating and attentive. He makes a slow circular motion on the side of her clit, and as he slides a second finger into her pussy she gasps,
“Ken.”
He bites his lip upon hearing his first name, and increases the speed of the circular motion of the fingers rubbing her clit as a reward. She catches on that he reacts to his name with his hands, so she chants his name until she cums, throbbing around his two fingers. The hand on her clit moved away and held by her hands as she calms down from her orgasm.
Her whole body is warm, the sensation electric.
“You're really pretty when you're like this.” He's kind of geeky in his delivery, but his intentions are earnest and she laughs at him, euphoric and shy.
He chuckles in response, scratching the back of his head with his driest hand. He shifts on his legs, and it dawns on her that he got another erection from watching her orgasm.
His eyes follow her gaze.
“Are you still okay with this part?” He asks her seriously as he lays his cock along her stomach. As frazzled as he looks, his questions are careful and deliberate.
She's breathy in her reassurance, more so when he rubs his cock along the length of her pussy. The underside of his head rubbing satisfyingly along her clit. She moans softly with each pass, and he spends a distractedly long time repeating this process rather than physically entering her.
He eventually musters asking her, “Can you get off, again, like this?” He rolls his hips for emphasis. She loves it.
She wants to hide her face rather than answering, embarrassingly aroused by the situation. Instead, she yanks him down onto her, to bury her face in the nape of his neck.
He laughs at her and it only makes her more embarrassed and by consequence, wetter. An obscene noise occurs between them when he resumes rolling his hips against hers to rub the underside of his cock onto her clit.
Wrapping her arms around him to his back, she uses the newfound leverage to rock her hips up into his.
Rocking together, she whimpers his name and cums again. Maybe a little too quickly. He takes the opportunity to slide his cock into her and they moan together as he slowly fucks her.
She praises him for how nice he feels inside of her. He withdraws his hips fully, only to sink into her again. “Fuck,” he says in her ear. He then sits up, gripping her hips as he looks down at where their bodies meet. She shimmies up her sweater, revealing her breasts.
His hands are immediately on the sides of her newly exposed lower ribcage. His eyes on her breasts.
Before his hands move any further, his body stills. His cock throbs in her. He's breathing heavy, shoulders dropping as he goes to gently caress her breasts. She adores the effect she has on him.
He mumbles an apology for cumming too quickly. She pulls him into a hug to admit in his ear that she's having a good time, adding, “We can take a break.”
He pulls back from the hug far enough to look at her face, but not far enough to exit her arms as he asks, “A break means… we're going to continue?”
“This,” she gestures to his groin, “Has no consequences right now.” She pauses for a moment, adding, “And, you're very cool—” I really like you. She sets her legs down. "Warm-ups are cool, too."