Ken follows, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He keeps a discreet distance, weaving through the stragglers from the PT session, his eyes locked onto Riko. Even from behind, her figure is unmistakable. Her fit t-shirt clings to her form, tracing the alluring curve of her back and subtly highlighting the swell of her D-cup breasts. Below, her peachy, round ass sways with a captivating grace as she walks, a mesmerizing rhythm that he knows Hiro is definitely enjoying from his vantage point behind her. Her long, black ponytail hairstyle bobs with each step, a dark, silken banner that draws the eye.
They are deliberately avoiding the lingering clusters of students, taking a circuitous route. Riko leads the way towards the less frequented side of the school building, a path that feels almost secretive. She pushes open a nondescript backdoor, a utilitarian entrance usually reserved for staff or deliveries, and disappears inside. Hiro follows close behind her, a shadow of possession.
Ken doesn't hesitate. He slips through the same door, the echo of their footsteps still hanging in the stale air. The building's interior here is dimly lit, a maze of seldom-used stairwells and dusty corridors. He hears faint whispers, the soft scuff of shoes on concrete, guiding him upward. They're ascending, taking the stairs two at a time, their destination becoming clear as the air grows cooler and the light brighter through the grimy windows.
He reaches the final landing, pushing open a heavy, creaking door. It leads out onto the rooftop, a forbidden expanse of cracked asphalt and gravel, surrounded by a low concrete wall. This is a notorious spot, a secret hideout for smoking where defiant kids sneak away from prying eyes. And there they are, Riko and Hiro, standing in the stark afternoon light, alone against the vast sky.
Ken's heart pounds a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he slips onto the rooftop. He quickly ducks behind a cluster of large, black soil bags stacked near some neglected potted plants and withered flowers, finding a vantage point that offers a clear, unobstructed view. His breath catches in his throat at the scene before him.
Hiro is standing directly behind Riko, his arms wrapped around her in a possessive embrace. Riko moves a bit, a subtle shift of her shoulders, a faint tremor that Ken can just perceive from his hiding spot, but she's not resisting. Her body seems to simply accept the invasive contact, a chilling stillness that speaks volumes of her broken will.
Hiro's voice, low and thick with a predatory satisfaction, carries clearly in the open air. "Your body is even hotter than I imagined, Riko-chan," he murmurs against her ear. His hand, visible to Ken, slides down from her waist, slowly, deliberately, tracing the curve of her hip until it settles firmly on her round ass. He doesn't just touch; he shapes the curve of her peachy ass, his fingers kneading the firm flesh through the thin fabric of her shorts.
He chuckles, a low, lewd sound of pure triumph. "My god, this is perfect. So tight, so round." He continues to fondle her peachy ass, his palm caressing and squeezing, savoring the feeling of her pliant flesh beneath his touch. Ken watches, mesmerized and horrified, as Hiro's fingers subtly work, exploring the curves, pressing gently into the alluring swell.
Ken is utterly surprised by what he's witnessing. His sister, the unyielding Ice Queen, is standing there, completely still, not resisting as Hiro brazenly assaults her. This is it. This is the ultimate dream, the forbidden fantasy every guy whispers about. And now, a guy like Hiro, a guy Ken despises, is actually enjoying it, reveling in the very intimacy that Ken, despite himself, feels a sickening, undeniable pull towards.
Hiro shifts, his movements fluid and predatory. He pulls Riko even closer, her back pressing flush against his chest, her peachy, round ass settling perfectly against his groin. He feels the unmistakable warmth, the soft yet firm give of her buttocks against his erected dick. It's a sensation he's craved, fantasized about, for so long – the untouchable Ice Queen, finally molded to his desire. A low groan rumbles in his chest, a sound of raw, unadulterated triumph.
He leans down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her neck, just below her ear. His lips press, then suck gently, leaving a faint, reddened mark, a visible testament to his claim. "My god, Riko-chan," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, "you're even better than I dreamed. So hot. So perfectly soft against me."
His hand, which had been shaping her ass, now slides slowly upward, a possessive journey along her side. His fingers trace the delicate curve of her waist, then move higher, slowly, deliberately, until his palm settles, firm and unyielding, over her D-cup breast. He doesn't just touch; he gropes, his fingers kneading the soft flesh through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. He feels the undeniable fullness, the delicate weight, the quickening beat of her heart beneath his palm.
Ken, hidden behind the soil bags, watches in horrified fascination. He sees Hiro's hand, large and possessive, cupping Riko's breast, clearly shaping it, feeling its full extent. He sees the slow, rhythmic grind of Hiro's hips against Riko's ass, the silent, brutal assertion of dominance.
Hiro leans into Riko's ear again, his words a stream of degrading lust, his dick pressing deeper into her ass with each syllable. "Feel that, Riko-chan?" he breathes, his voice thick with a perverse satisfaction. "That's how hard you make me. That's how much I want you. My dick, pushing right into your firm ass. It feels incredible. You have no idea what you do to me."
He squeezes her breast again, a possessive flex of his fingers. "And these," he whispers, his mouth close to her ear, "these are absolutely mouth-watering. So full, so perfectly round. I could just spend all day playing with these."
Riko's voice, though strained, breaks through the haze of Hiro's lust. "Hiro-kun, stop," she insists, a desperate plea. "Don't talk like that. I'm keeping my agreement. I'm your girlfriend for a month. But this... this isn't part of it. You have to respect me." Her words are firm, a final, fragile attempt to assert control, to draw a line he must not cross.
Hiro chuckles, a low, dismissive sound that mocks her plea. He pulls her tighter against him, his erected dick grinding into her firm ass. "Oh, Riko-chan," he purrs, his lips brushing her ear, "this is just normal. Just a little dirty talk between a couple. It means I like what I feel. It means I'm enjoying you."
Riko's breath hitches. The sensation of his dick pressing against her ass is utterly alien, a raw, intrusive pressure she's never felt before. It's a terrifying mix of uncomfortable and a strange, undescribable feeling, a pulsating awareness in her lower body that makes her stomach clench. Her mind screams in resistance, but her body, trapped and overwhelmed, feels strengthless, utterly unable to push him away.
With a sudden, decisive movement, Hiro spins her around. Riko's eyes, wide with a mixture of shame and unwilling arousal, stare blankly ahead, unable to directly meet his gaze. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She's beautiful even in her distress, her pretty face a mask of internal conflict.
Hiro's smile widens as he takes in her expression. He reaches out, his hands moving to cup her D-cup breasts, boldly groping them through her thin t-shirt. He kneads the soft flesh, his thumbs teasing her nipples, which immediately harden under his touch. "My god, Riko-chan," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, "you are so sexy when you're like this. All shy and unwilling, but your body... your body is screaming for me. It's begging for more."
He pushes her breasts together, then releases them, watching them jiggle, a deliberate act of objectification. "You're trying to hide it," he whispers, his face close to hers, "but you're melting for me, aren't you? Your beautiful body just wants to be taken, to be owned. And I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single moment of it." His words, crude and insistent, strip away her pride, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to his relentless lust.
Hiro's hand, warm and insistent, slides from Riko's bare breast, trailing down her side, then moves purposefully towards the hem of her t-shirt. He begins to slowly, deliberately, lift the fabric, inch by agonizing inch, revealing more of her smooth, toned midriff.
Riko's eyes widen, and a jolt of panic shoots through her. She reaches out, her hand clamping onto his wrist, stopping him. "Hiro-kun, stop!" she whispers, her voice strained, a desperate plea. "Someone could come. Anyone could see!" She glances nervously around the secluded rooftop, the fear of exposure momentarily eclipsing her shame.
Hiro chuckles, a low, dismissive sound that mocks her concern. He doesn't remove his hand. "Relax, Riko-chan," he purrs, his gaze sweeping over the deserted rooftop. "No one rarely comes here. This is our secret spot, remember? And if you cooperate, I'll be quick. You'll be done in no time, and you can go." He presses subtly, urging her hand away from his. "Just lift your top for me, Riko-chan. Quickly."
Riko stares at him, her body trembling. The choice is clear: prolonged agony, or swift, humiliating compliance. The battle is already lost. With a deep, shuddering breath, she releases his wrist. Her fingers, trembling slightly, reach for the hem of her t-shirt, and slowly, reluctantly, she begins to lift it.
The fabric rises, inch by agonizing inch, revealing her smooth, flat stomach, then the delicate curve of her ribs, and finally, the full, round swell of her D-cup breasts. They are encased in a white bra, the delicate lace and sturdy cups straining against their generous size, pushing them upwards, creating a deep, alluring cleavage. Ken, hidden behind the soil bags, watches, his breath hitched in his throat, his groin throbbing with an almost unbearable intensity. The sight of Riko's perfection, slowly unveiled, is a torment and a thrill.
Hiro lets out a low, appreciative hum, his eyes devouring the sight. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of her bra, then finds the clasp. With a swift, practiced motion, he unhooks it. The white bra falls away, leaving her bouncing boobs utterly free, exposed in all their magnificent glory.
They seem to swell even larger, bouncing slightly with the sudden release, their fullness undeniable, their round shape a testament to their breathtaking size. Her nipples, dark and erect, stand out in sharp relief, tiny, sensitive peaks begging for attention. Hiro's gaze drops to her small, impossibly narrow waist, a delicate bridge connecting her ample, D-cup breasts to the seductive curve of her round lower figure – her hips flaring generously, her ass a perfect, full sphere that he knows so well from behind her. The contrast is perfect, a stunning display of voluptuousness and delicate curves.
He reaches out, his hands moving to cup her breasts, feeling their astonishing fullness, their softness, their incredible weight. He lifts them slightly, weighing them in his palms, his eyes burning with triumphant lust. "My god, Riko-chan," he breathes, his voice thick with raw desire, "you are absolute perfection. This is what everyone dreams of. And now... they're all mine."
Hiro's hand, large and possessive, begins a slow, deliberate journey, tracing the exquisite curve of Riko's D-cup breasts. He feels the incredible fullness, the heavy, yielding softness that overflows his palm. He cups the underside, lifting slightly, weighing the magnificent flesh, then lets his fingers trail along the taut skin, feeling the subtle tension of her pectorals beneath. He traces the arcing line of her cleavage, then moves outward, feeling the lush swell as it tapers towards her armpit, mapping every dimension of their perfect, round shape. His thumb, relentless and knowing, circles her nipple, which stands out, hard and eager, against the rosy areola. Each touch is a perverse act of worship, a physical acknowledgment of the treasure he has unveiled.
He leans in, his breath hot against her skin, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her cleavage. He drags his tongue slowly, savoring the taste, before closing his lips over one of her erect nipples. He sucks, a deep, possessive pull that sends a jolt through Riko's entire frame. She gasps, a choked sound, her body arching involuntarily against his grasp. He feels her breast fill his mouth, the soft, firm flesh yielding to his insistent suction, and a low groan rumbles in his chest. "So delicious, Riko-chan," he murmurs, his voice thick with raw lust, his words muffled by her skin. "Absolutely incredible. So sweet, so full."
Riko's face remains averted, her eyes squeezed shut, a silent testament to her inner battle. She's resisting with every fiber of her being, her mind screaming in defiant refusal, but her body, overwhelmed by the relentless assault on her senses, is no longer her own. She feels her pride shattering, dissolving under the searing heat of his mouth and the possessive claiming of his hands.
Hiro's free hand, no longer content with her breasts, begins its descent. It glides over her flat belly, feeling the smooth, taut skin, then dips into the delicate hollow of her navel. He traces the graceful curve of her waist, a small, delicate span between her ample D-cup breasts and the generous flare of her hips. His fingers move lower still, brushing against the top of her short pant, then slipping underneath the hem. He feels the smooth, warm skin of her thighs, then the soft fabric of her panties.
With a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers grasp the waistband of her white panty. Riko feels the subtle tug, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over her. She squeezes her legs together, a desperate, last-ditch effort to preserve her final shred of modesty, but her strength is gone. Hiro's grip is firm, unrelenting. He pulls, slowly, drawing the pants down over her hips, inch by inch, revealing more and more of her round ass and the shadowed juncture of her thighs. Her sexy figure is now completely at his mercy, every curve exposed to his hungry, victorious gaze.