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Chapter 26 - Shiho II
🕑 Added 2025-04-25 15:18:40 +0000 UTCHer cunt was soaking — already pulling at my finger in greedy, involuntary pulses—but I didn’t speed up.
Not yet.
I gave her slow, deliberate strokes that barely moved in and out. Just enough friction to keep her nerves raw. To keep her chasing.
I knew her better than I knew Anko.
Better than she knew herself.
Every twitch of her hips, every choking breath was just another tell — confirmation that she wasn’t fighting me. She was begging without words.
I let my lips coast down the side of her neck while my finger curled again, grazing that inner spot that made her legs jerk and her hole tighten.
“Fuck…” I breathed against her, my voice calm, drawing out the sound like it was a sermon. “So soft. You always clench like that when you need it deeper. You know what that tells me?”
She whimpered. Didn’t know how to answer.
I kept going, lips dragging up her jaw, until I could speak directly into her ear.
“That tight little cunt of yours doesn’t lie, does it?” I added, voice low and biting. “I talk to you, and it throbs. I touch you, it weeps.”
Shiho let another whimper. Her head cocked back against the wood behind her, lips barely parted. Her breath stuttered out in shaky pulses, her muscles in her thighs failing her piece by piece.
“Say it again….. who are you?“ I brushed my lips against her flushed skin.
Shiho’s panties were already crooked from my fingers working her over, damp cotton stretched against her cunt like it was trying to cling to the heat she was leaking. Her parted thighs were shaking—just a little—and she kept her arms frozen in a shake at her midsection, clutching up her skirt like she was still waiting for permission to let herself melt.
“…I’m your good girl.”
Nonetheless, she whispered it, like a confession. Like breath.
My eyes dropped to her mouth. That was what she wanted earlier, wasn’t it? A kiss.
And she earned it now.
I grabbed her chin firmly. Her breath hitched under my fingers, whole body wound up tight, waiting for something harder than my hand….. or my dick in my pants.
I leaned in slowly, just enough for her to see it coming.
I wanted her to feel the reward before I gave it. Earned things felt better when you waited.
“I know you are,” I murmured, almost lazy with how confident I was in her.
And then I kissed her, and I was not stingy with it.
Not a peck. Not something cute. Not soft for the sake of it.
I kissed her like I owned her pretty mouth. Lips crashing wet and deep into hers, tongue pushing until she opened for me. Because I made her, not because she had the bravery to start.
She moaned into it, forgetting where she was, kissing me back with that hungry, sloppy kind of need that tasted more like frustration than finesse. Her arms tightened against the fabric of her long skirt like she didn’t know if she wanted to drop it to hold me or keep her place exactly where I left her.
She chose right.
She held the skirt up. Still.
I kept kissing her.
Amusingly, she kissed harder with every stroke. The second my thumb found her clit — fuck, the way she arched her hips toward me—it was like her body wanted to show me yes even if her mouth forgot how language worked altogether.
I pulled long caresses across her clit, tight circles, switching pressure at random to keep her guessing. Her breath was all over the kiss, whining into my mouth as she tried to chase every move I made.
But I didn’t let her lead.
I never let her lead.
This was the reward. My pace. My praise.
I pulled back from her lips just enough so I could stare her in the eye. My fingers didn’t stop.
She looked ruined, and to be fair, she was not hard to ruin. Her eyes were glassy; damned near drugged.
“You want more.”
She nodded stupidly.
I leaned in again and kissed her softer this time, but held it longer. And my fingers did their things just the right way, in the right moment and right spot.
Her whole body tensed like I’d just pulled a wire through her spine.
I felt it the second her orgasm barreled through her—her thighs clenched around my wrist and her back arched hard against the shelf, a sharp little gasp leaking past her lips before she bit down on it.
But not fast enough. She indeed forgot where she was.
I heard a shush from somewhere.
Shiho didn’t care. Her knees buckled a little, but she caught herself, panting hard through her nose while her pussy gripped down on my digit, soaking her panties with slick she couldn’t stop.
She came so quickly it caught her off guard. Her body was messy about it, twitchy and soft and desperately wet, practically gushing in my hand like she’d been overloaded. Hell, she probably had been. Two fucking months without getting railed. Two months of aching around nothing but her fingers and wishful thinking — overly underwhelming after she got trained by me.
I flexed my fingers and slowly pulled it out, watching her body start to sag forward, like the orgasm took her spine with it. She wasn’t moaning anymore. Just hanging, dazed, the skirt still crumpled in her hands up at her waist while she stared at the floor like she forgot how to breathe.
...yeah. She was gone.
Oh fuck it.
I undid my belt fast. Shiho didn’t react. She still didn’t look up. Just breathing. Still holding her skirt up for me because somewhere in that buzzed-out brain, she remembered that was her job.
I hooked a finger in the edge of her soaked panties and pushed that strip to the side.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even twitch.
Her eyes were glassy, just a blank stare off to the corner of the bookshelf like she couldn’t function properly yet.
I haven’t gone all that hard on her. She reminded me of the first time I pushed her, but she was a virgin then and had never been touched.
I stroked the head of my cock against her. Just the tip—up and down the length of her slit, dragging it through the mess I’d made. Warm, slippery, perfect.
A groan tried to crawl out of me just from that. She was soaked enough I wouldn’t even need to spit on it.
I paused briefly, giving her one last chance to register it. To react. To look at me like she knew what was coming.
Nothing.
Not a blink. Not a tension shift. She couldn't process that lost, post-orgasm stare and the occasional twitch of her thigh reacting to touch.
Fuck.
I put my hand back over her mouth.
And I pushed inside.
All slow at first, eyes locked on hers just in case. That resistance when I first pressed in—soft muscle pulling around the head, tight and familiar—the way she clenched like her body didn’t know how to stay open for me anymore. Damn. I almost forgot how fucking snug she was when she hadn’t been stretched for months.
Her eyes fluttered. Breath flared through her nose into my palm, and her hips rolled forward instinctively.
Still no words.
Just her body trying to remember how this went.
And I, sinking deeper.
“—Fucking hell,” I muttered through my teeth. “You’re this tight now?”
I hadn’t even bottomed out yet. Her pussy clamped down so snug around just the first inch or two that it actually slowed me down. Heat flushed up my chest from how damned surprising it was. Either she’d suddenly forgotten how to take dick, or she was back to clenching like we hadn't done this a dozen dirty times already.
Her body had gone stiff again, ribs rising hard against my palm as I muffled the shaky whimper that climbed up her throat. The sound vibrated into my hand.
I paused, halfway in. Let her body adjust.
My hips flexed forward again. She took an inch more. Tight, wet, and dragging like velvet around the shaft, hugging every inch like she was trying to memorize it.
I shifted my hand enough to drag a thumb across her cheek to keep her grounded.
My hips drew back.
Then pushed in again.
She gasped, twitching, thighs reflexively spreading wider to stabilize.
Her mouth opened to cry out, and I clamped my hand down tighter, pressing her head back against the shelf with my palm as I pounded her again.
“Shhh.”
Another thrust. This time I didn’t slow.
I set a rhythm—measured, deep, angled upward to force moaned little shudders up her spine. Short gasps into my hand with every push. Her tits bounced against the tight fabric of her blouse each time I drove in, nipples poking through the cheap cotton like they needed friction.
She was trying to keep up now—hips twitching forward on reflex, skin sucking back against mine like she was finally catching up with what was happening to her body, like the orgasm fog was lifting and instinct had taken the wheel.
Back to life?
“Hey,” I growled low against the side of her throat, my cock hammering up into that soaked, too-tight heat, “you trying to turn back into a virgin or something?”
Her eyes shot open wide.
There it was—clarity. Shame. A flush rushed up her chest to bloom across her cheeks like she'd finally remembered where we were and what she was doing.
She clenched so hard my rhythm staggered—and I liked it.
“Oh?” I chuckled, fingers trailing along her jaw as I started to ramp back up. “You like that? Is that what happened—two months, and now you’re tighter than the first time I split you on it?”
Most would take that as a compliment. Most where shameless and not fun to fuck.
Shiho shook her head, but her hips rolled straight into my next thrust like her body was lying for her. Her mouth opened—maybe to say something—but all that came out was this porntone moan, so high and sharp I had to slap my hand back across her mouth to catch it.
Another shush, we both ignored it.
“You don’t say a fucking word,” I breathed, gripping her ass now as I drove even deeper. “You just take it. Like my tight little first-timer again.”
I’d lost the tease at that point.
I was full-speed controlling her body, holding her up by the hips practically, thighs spread just enough to keep her off balance, her ass bouncing off the wood shelf behind her with every controlled, brutal thrust. Her pussy was sloppy now, a loud wet suck between us every time I bottomed out.
Her arms had dropped. She wasn’t even holding the skirt anymore. I didn’t care.
I was watching her come apart all over again.
This wasn’t like when I screwed the others—slow build, read them, edge them until they cried my name and shook around my cock. This was different.
I was barely thinking about her pleasure anymore. I didn’t have time for that.
This was just a necessity. I had to get my dick to calm the fuck down so I could get my work done. That’s all this was.
Her pussy clung like it missed me.
I didn’t even need to try. Every thrust hit a button combo her body already knew by heart. She came again in under a minute—three jagged little gasps against my palm, her legs twitching like wires yanked tight. Slippery, soaked, squeezing so damned hard around my cock it felt like she was trying to milk me right there.
I pulled her off the shelf, forced her hips back, and drove deeper. The friction was making too much sound.
She gasped again.
Four. That was number four. Her eyes rolled and her mouth dropped open, breathless under my hand, dripping with her saliva.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t whisper anything sweet. I gripped her harder, locked my arms around her ass and back, pulled her suspended completely off the floor as I went pounding into her like my cock was a fucking jackhammer. Her petite body jerked up the shelf with every thrust while her arms hung useless at her sides.
No footing. Just clinging to me with nothing but trembling around my cock.
That sweet, tiny pussy was too slick to slow me down now, and her body was going dumb from the stimulation—completely tuned to me.
She was like a drug addict who hadn’t gotten her fix in a long time.
The fifth orgasm tore out of her, and I felt it the second it started—violent clench, deep spasm, messy gush down my balls.
That was what tipped me. I growled and buried myself deep, to the hilt.
I held her there, muscles locking — her body a dead-weight ragdoll in my hands.
And I came, hot, thick, pulsing deep into her womb.
My seed spreading out inside her in violent waves, engulfing her insides, thick and messy, filling her way too fast.
She screamed through my hand, trembling hard all over.
She came.
Again.
The shock of it—her getting triggered by the force of my ejaculation—made my balls tighten painfully. It was too much. Her spine bowed as she clenched around the heat, slick already leaking down my shaft.
When the spasms finally stopped, I stayed there.
Locked deep, breathing hard between her shoulder and her neck, both of us silent now except for the wrecked rhythm of our breath.
She twitched once.
Then twice.
And that’s when I shifted, settling her slowly down, pulling my hand off her mouth now that no one would hear her cries. She wouldn’t be crying for a while. I’d knocked the sound clear out of her chest.
We stayed pressed like that for a moment—her small frame leaning passive into me, freshly-fucked, panty-strained, leaking slow trails of white down the inside of her thigh.
I reached under her skirt and gave her ass one last squeeze.
And without even needing to say it, she turned her head up to whisper the usual ritual between us—
“…thank you for letting me feel like yours again.”
I pressed my forehead to hers, smiled—just the edge of a smirk—and paused there.
I didn’t even know when that started, honestly. That line. That ritual. The first time she said it, it had been this raw little whisper—half sob, half moan—right after I’d bent her over her desk counter and made her come without even touching her clit. I hadn’t meant to memorize it. But it did something.
Whispering it like that, flushed and slut-slick with sweat, thanking me like I was doing her a favor to own her again.
It did things to my fucking pride.
And if I stopped and thought about it… I wasn’t much of a pervert before I met Shiho. That was her fault. Her mouth. Her constant gasping, pleading, filthy praise. She fed it. Built up some dark little temple inside me with every breathless blurt.
I wasn’t like this before her.
She made me this.
Yeah….. definitely her fault.
I leaned in again, my mouth brushing her ear. “You never stopped being mine.”
That was it.
End of session. No cuddling, no cleanup. I buttoned up. She stood shaking against the shelf. My load still inside her, warm and dripping.
She knew the rules.
And fuck, did her body love following them.
