"Wait, hold on, that's bad!" Ms. Fuyuhara gasped.
"Here we go, Miyuki! Let loose whenever you want!" I teased, grinning.
"Wait—ahh?!" she yelped.
Death rolling. Like a gator clamping onto prey and spinning to crush its bones, I was the predator now. With my dick still inside her, I rolled my hips, aiming to break her down completely—leave her legs useless.
"Hh… hh…" she panted, not laughing. The new sensation threw her breathing off, her gasps turning wild.
Her hands slipped from the wall, and she collapsed, face buried in the bedsheets. I didn't let up, yanking her hips back up forcefully.
"Ah!" she squeaked.
With her hips high and body low, I kept death rolling, thrusting over and over. Her breathing got rougher, louder—desperate.
"Ugh… ha… haa…" she rasped.
I didn't stop. My dick spun right, slick with her wetness, relentless.
"Hii, hii… Miyagi, please, wait, just wait…" she begged.
I paused. "Fff, ha… ha…" she huffed, trying to catch her breath.
Then I switched—left spin.
"Eek! The other way?! Wait, I'm not ready—please, hold on!" she cried, her hands clawing at the air, voice breaking into a scream. Her hips shook in my grip, her pale back arching and twitching like a jolt hit her.
"…" I watched.
"…Huh?" she went quiet.
Her tense body suddenly went limp. "Miyuki? …Ms. Fuyuhara?" I called.
No answer. Total silence. Oops, maybe I overdid it, I thought. I was close to finishing too, but… I nudged her hips a couple more times, still inside her. Nothing.
"Well, this works," I muttered.
With her out cold, I decided to keep going. Her upper body was flat on the bed, so I lifted her hips into a prone position and thrust again. Wet, sloppy sounds echoed—squish, squish—as her tight back rocked limply with each push. Her arms sprawled lifelessly, and from her open lips, soft moans mixed with a trickle of drool.
"Seen this before," I chuckled. In my old world, adult films had every flavor—some with women passed out, drunk, or asleep. Those were staged, obviously, but here? I could make it real if I wanted. And she wouldn't even complain.
"…Wait a sec," I said, slowing down mid-thrust. A thought hit me—not random, but inevitable. A spark of genius, even.
"Time-stop stuff," I realized. "If I asked her to freeze, like time's paused, wouldn't that work?"
Natsuki might roll her eyes, call me a perv, then grumble but play along. Ms. Fuyuhara? She'd probably love it—jump in with glee. Or flip it and tell me to freeze, which… yeah, I'd be down for.
"Now that I think about it," I mused, "tons of those old adult films could work here." I'd gotten too cozy in this soft world, letting my edge dull. My drive to be a total player was slacking—time to step up.
First thing that popped to mind? "Uniform play," I said aloud. But here's the thing: I'm already surrounded by real high school girls and a real teacher. Never thought past that. Cosplay—an entire world of sweet, deep possibilities—hadn't crossed my mind.
Now I saw it. Making a real high school girl wear something else, or putting a teacher in a schoolgirl outfit? That's next-level indulgence. I could probably pull it off!
"My dreams… they're expanding," I whispered, trying to cool my burning excitement with some cheesy old slang. Didn't work—my soul was blazing hotter.
"Natsuki's done something close to that before," I reasoned. "It was more disguise than cosplay, but she went along with outdoor stuff, so she'd probably say yes." Ms. Fuyuhara, though? "In her room, she'd be game for anything," I decided, eyeing her cute, motionless butt as I kept at it.
She'd probably jump at any outfit, no hesitation. Might even have an old uniform stashed away for nostalgia. I'd love to stain those memories white, if you catch my drift.
"Man, this is hot," I muttered. Her face, eyes closed and pressed against the bed, was stunning. Each thrust shook her body, her back twitching now and then with faint pleasure. A gorgeous older teacher, completely mine to use—an onahole brought to life.
"Ugh…" The mental rush pushed me over. I pulled out fast, unloading across her butt. The white dripped down her curves, brushing her backdoor. On a whim, I rubbed it in with my finger.
"Ah… ahh…" she moaned faintly, despite being out. The sensation must've sparked a small climax.
"Whew, that felt good," I sighed.
Two days left in Golden Week. What's next?
(A/N: Imagine waking up everyday, looking yourself in the mirror, and saying to yourself; "I DON'T WANT MORE CHAPTERS! I WILL NEVER GIVE ANY POWERSTONES!"
...Damn, must be a sad existence.)