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touching, feeling

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Their date just a few hours ago had been rather wonderful, Mitsuru thought.

They’d been at a restaurant with low lighting that made their voices quiet, and wine that loosened their lips and heightened their arousal. Yukari had actually started to tease and run her foot up and down Mitsuru’s leg as they spoke in hushed voices. She had been wearing a scandalously low cut dress, soft skin of her cleavage enticing Mitsuru to stare before she realised that she probably looked like a predator eyeing up a piece of meat and so she quickly looked away. Yukari had let out a soft laugh then, light teasing words along the lines of “honey, you know you don’t have to look away. I’m all yours, you know that.”

After the date, Mitsuru had dropped Yukari back off at her apartment, kissing the back of her hand, and Yukari made some witty comment about having a prince to escort her everywhere she goes. She had kissed Mitsuru then, not as passionately as she would’ve liked but still enough to make her weak in the knees. “Goodnight,” Yukari said to her, her final word for the day, and as she turned around to walk up the steps to her apartment’s door, the skirt of her dress had ridden up and made Mitsuru look away quickly for fear that the ride back home on her motorcycle wouldn’t be the most comfortable.

Now Mitsuru was back in her apartment, jacket hung up on the door. Moving out of the dorms meant she had a lot more privacy. She carefully slips off her shoes, leaving herself only in her small black dress. It wasn’t the most conservative dress out there, cutting off mid-thigh and showing off rather a lot of skin, but it was nowhere near the level of improper that Yukari’s dress was. Mitsuru shuts her eyes quickly, as if trying to block out the thoughts of her girlfriend’s racy remarks all throughout their date.

“You know, Mitsuru-senpai, I’m sure the dessert here is wonderful,” she’d said, leaning forward in a way that emphasised her chest, “but I think I’d prefer something sweeter, if you know what I mean.” The playful lilt in her voice hadn’t gone unnoticed by Mitsuru, and the way her foot ran up her calf and down again had whittled Mitsuru’s self-restraint to a single frail thread, and she had to remind herself constantly that it would probably count as public indecency if she were to bend Yukari over the table, spilling their red wine everywhere and fingering her until she was a mewling mess under her touch.

“Shit,” Mitsuru says breathlessly, eyes shut tightly. It was rare for her to curse but alcohol led to loose lips so she thought she deserved some sort of slack. She pulls off her dress, now completely naked apart from lacy black underwear, and she lets out a shaky sigh. Yukari had worn that dress to toy with her, to tease her and then leave her at her doorstep with only a glimpse of her treasure. It was… frustrating, in a sense, but somehow Mitsuru had found it more arousing than anything. The way Yukari had the complete upper hand throughout their date, going so far as to even make sexually charged jokes… Mitsuru had always revelled in the way that Yukari managed to push all of her buttons so effortlessly.

Heat blossoms between her legs, and Mitsuru quickly crosses them. There’s something warm and firming up in her underwear, and she knows for certain that if Yukari was here, she’d take matters into her own hands. However, Mitsuru is alone tonight, just one of the many many ways Yukari made Mitsuru long for her. She lets out a soft hiss of pain as the fabric of her underwear brushes against her already half-firm erection. She’s decidedly more sensitive today, it seems, but thoughts of Yukari swim around in her head and she knows she’s not going to be able to go to sleep unless she’s relieved herself.

Mitsuru unclasps her bra, dropping it to the floor and running her hands up and down her chest. She’s never looked at herself as desirable before, not before she met Yukari, who’d always excitedly pinned her down and took control of things, whispering sweet words into her ear until they’d eventually reach the peak of pleasure together. She shuts her eyes again, and behind hazy eyelids she can imagine Yukari’s hands instead of her own, fingers gently running down her chest, gently pinching at sensitive buds until they’re as rosy as Mitsuru’s hair.

She feels it throb again, and this time it aches with pleasure and need. She’s not going to be able to withstand this any longer unless she finds the pleasure she so desperately needs. Slowly, Mitsuru removes her underwear, and although it's no surprise as to what springs out, she still finds herself blushing all the same. The underwear is ruined, she thinks absentmindedly, a large dark patch on the front, but that’s alright. She has many more pairs like this, many more bewitching and lacy pairs that she knows would draw Yukari’s hands to her like a magnet.

She drops the panties to the floor and lays on her back, silk smooth against her skin. Her luscious red hair is split across her pillows like rich red wine on bedsheets, and Mitsuru takes a moment to simply pause, to breathe in, before her hand finds her shaft.

It’s warm and hard and twitching in her hand, and already she can feel her breath hitch a little bit. She’s… leaking quite a bit actually, enough that she doesn’t need to find the little bottle in her bedside drawer. Mitsuru distantly thinks of a time once where Yukari had been so adamant about pleasuring her that she’d used some of her flowery hand lotion in lieu of lubricant -- needless to say, it was a lot more slippery than usual that day.

Mitsuru pauses for a moment, simply holding it in her hand. A kaleidoscope of images flicker through her mind before it finally settles to a memory of Yukari between her legs, eyes wide and hazy with lust. She remembers the memory as clear as day: Yukari had pinned her down to the bed and tied Mitsuru’s hands to the headboard with the pretty silk scarf she’d been wearing around her neck that day. Her hands had found Mitsuru’s hardening length and eagerly began to go to work, coaxing tender moans out of Mitsuru until Yukari pushed her over the edge.

Her hand moves, almost subconsciously, and a mewl of pleasure slips from her mouth. She slowly works her hand from tip to base, tip of her head leaking more and more, red and painfully sensitive. She’s a little bit more wet now, the level of wetness she’s accustomed to. Her eyes suddenly open at the sensation, pleasuring coursing through her body at the gentle touch. She starts palming herself, hand moving at a steady pace. Up, down, up, down, hand working in a slow rhythm. Heat coils in the pit of her stomach. Mitsuru lets out a low sound, looking up at the ceiling through her eyelashes.

She thinks of Yukari again, her mind flickering to another memory. This time she’s thinking of a warm wet mouth, the time where Yukari had pinned her against the wall of a changing room and knelt down, looking up at Mitsuru with big brown eyes as her mouth went to work. Mitsuru gasps, arousal flickering in the pits of her stomach like a fire.

If her arousal was a pit of gasoline, then Yukari was surely the flame. The more Mitsuru’s hand pumps up and down her shaft, the tighter the heat gets in her stomach. A whimper escapes her lips, and she can’t help the way that her other hand slips up to pinch at her rosy red nipples, as hard as diamond. “Yukari,” she whispers, words escaping her soft lips, and the word rises into the air in the form of steam, swirling above her head in pretty patterns that made her head spin.

Again her thoughts switch back to Yukari, of soft lips around her sore aching member, of a warm wet tongue licking from base to tip, and Mitsuru has to stop herself from letting out a truly obscene sound. She grasps her breast, palming at the soft flesh and rolling a firm nipple between forefinger and thumb, gasps and moans spilling out of her lips one after another.

“Yukari,” she murmurs again, more urgently this time. Her hand moves faster, toes curling into the silk bed sheets, shutting her eyes and picturing her girlfriend again. Yukari flickers back to the center of her thoughts, innocent brown eyes would gaze up at her as she’d work her mouth along Mitsuru’s length. She’d swirl her tongue in that specific way that makes Mitsuru’s legs shake, and as her hand works faster and faster, she feels as though she’s almost rutting into her hand.

Rutting. Such a filthy word, usually attached to animalistic behavior and yet whenever she thinks of Yukari, the word animal is far from her mind. Yukari was rough sometimes, who wasn’t? But she could be gentle too, gentle enough to make Mitsuru writhe and gasp and beg until there are tears in her eyes and she’s aching for more.

She imagines Yukari suckling now, making soft little moans that cause vibrations to tingle through her. “Yukari,” she says again, this time a little more urgent. Mitsuru’s hand is slick and warm, slipping up and down her shaft with ease, the hot heat coiling up in her stomach even more. She can almost imagine Yukari’s teasing words, “I know how bad you want this, Mitsuru. It’s okay. Just let go.” The words echo in her head, Yukari’s voice ever so sweet in her ear, and Mitsuru bites her lip hard.

“Yukari,” she pants, voice shaky and hoarse. Her hand’s moving faster, gliding up and down her length at a pace that made her toes curl. She’s leaking more and more, warm clear fluid oozing out slowly as she feels the heat in her stomach burn stronger and stronger. She shuts her eyes, pleasure overtaking her senses, and distantly she hears Yukari say those words again.

“Let go. Just let go.”

Mitsuru finally lets go, the heat coiled in her stomach finally snapping, and her hips buck up as waves of pleasure course through her body. “Yukari!” she cries out, voice husky and rumbling in her throat. And finally, finally, Mitsuru feels the dam break. A thin white liquid covers her hands, shooting out and staining her bedsheets. For a moment, all she sees is stars, her head spinning with thoughts of Yukari, Yukari, only Yukari. Hot waves of adrenaline rush from head to toe, skin tingling with pinpricks of heat, and Mitsuru’s chest wracks with heavy breaths.

She’s staring up at the ceiling, trying to blink away the hazy white around her eyes. Mitsuru finally lets go of herself, hand wet and sticky with how much arousal there was on it, and she subconsciously wipes her hand on herself, too preoccupied with her thoughts to care. Leaning over the side of her bed, she reaches out with her other hand to grasp at her jacket and fish out her mobile phone in the pocket.

She’s fumbling now, she thinks as she struggles to remember which number to dial, but as the phone finally rings, Mitsuru lets out a relieved sigh. A long pause, a moment that seems to drag on forever, before the person on the other end finally picks up.

“Hello?” Yukari says into the receiver, voice low and breathless. Anyone could guess what she had just been doing. Mitsuru privately allows herself to revel in that image: Yukari spreading her legs wide for herself, hands running down smooth creamy thighs, fingers seeking slick wet heat, gasping and writhing as her orgasm washes over her-

Mitsuru lets out a pleased hum. “Let’s go on another date tomorrow.”