[Yandere, Pure Love] The Voluptuous Menhera Obsessive Mommy Guardian Angel — 6
"..."
First: know yourself and know your enemy, and there is no fight you cannot win. I know my present condition better than anyone. I'm fucked.
Next: Azael.
I turned my head toward her without thinking, and in that instant I froze solid. Her face head-on was devastating enough — but was a profile even allowed to be this beautiful?
There was so much to take in from the tilt of her head. The snow-white, unlined nape of her neck. The elegant line of her jaw. Those lovely double eyelids. Even the rare gleam of a metal ornament at her ear. Look closer, and there was a single beauty mark just beneath it.
...And yet. Neck and ear alike had flushed a brilliant red. An unbearably sexy red.
A thin spurt. Then a long, slow trickle.
Ahh... seriously. This is bad.
I was supposed to be learning my opponent, but in the state I was in, merely looking at her kept landing critical hits, the damage stacking and ticking without end. There was no sign of me calming down. No matter how I turned it over, I had no idea what to do with this situation. Slick was pouring out of me past any hope of control, whether I wanted it to or not, and at the pace she was going there was still a long way to go before the wetness on my legs was gone.
And above all else, she was flushed and playing innocent, and that was so hot I couldn't think. My heart slammed. Little by little, my head seemed to be heating up as well.
Where had it all gone wrong? My vision narrowed all at once, the same way it had when I'd gotten blindly, helplessly drunk on her scent. Only this time she wasn't particularly giving off that warm, comforting citrus. No — I was wringing the excitement out of my own skull and powdering it over my own eyes.
At last, from my thoroughly soaked pussy, the slick began to bead and fall, drop by drop.
It's over. I'm finished.
The scenario where we both pretended not to notice and traded a polite word or two —
"Oh my, and what is this wetness? I must not have been thorough enough."
"I know, right? Please wipe it up quickly, haha."
— that one had become impossible, too.
Azael flinched at the sound of it dripping, her wings giving a soft little flutter, but she still refused to turn my way.
...I really don't know anymore. I'm going to get caught anyway. No — I've already been caught. I decided to simply act on instinct.
Think about it. None of this is my fault. It's all because she's too damn hot. My brain felt cooked through, snapped clean in two, but I resolved to push on a little more shamelessly.
And so, little by little, both my eyes took on the instinctive, glittering aspect of a beast. Utterly brazen. Thoroughly lecherous. And, as befits an alpha female...
...I began to peek.
Which sat very poorly with the narration that came before it.
...It may fall short of expectations, but that was only natural. I had been a lonely forever-single for all twenty-one years of my life. Whatever I tried to start, I never knew where to begin, and once I began, I never knew how to carry it on. Besides, a person doesn't get to ravish whoever happens to be standing in front of them just because they're horny. That's basic social decency — a virtue any human being ought to keep.
So, since things had already come to this, and since my eyes had been dragged there from the start while I forced them away, I decided I would properly look her body over. Only for a moment.
You could say I can't eat even when it's spoon-fed to me. Yeah. Spoon-feed me, work my jaw, send it down my throat, and digest it in my stomach for me too, pleeeease.
...And that is the end of the digression.
I moved my gaze in earnest. Her head was still turned elsewhere, unable to look at me. She was clearly shy herself. Having decided as much, I went straight after those lush, swaying breasts.
Of course her devastatingly beautiful face was wonderful, and so was the line of her hips and ass, which I wanted to bury my nose in and die, and so were the thighs I wanted my head trapped between while she decided whether I got to breathe. All of that was plenty good.
...Even so. Breasts come first.
Forcing yourself to ignore them has reached its limit. Just go on and look your fill. Don't blame reason, don't blame shame, don't blame shyness. Honestly, at that level, that chicken seduced you first.
My heart seemed to whisper it.
...Hold on. Calm down. One correction.
Excuse me — a chicken? Tsk. Aside from a pair of wings and a bit of feather, they have absolutely nothing in common.
Setting that aside, I looked at her breasts and swallowed, hard, again and again. They were so large that following their outline upward, the crease beneath her arm folded over twice. Even in the short, gentle motion of her breathing, a spectacle was underway — her underboob quivering the way a tractor quivers as it crosses a field. That she was a little excited, the tail of each breath growing steep, probably had something to do with it.
Seriously... they're fucking enormous.
Breasts that size, and she wasn't even wearing a bra, and yet they held a beautiful shape all on their own, like lavish, ripe fruit. The pink areolae peeking shyly past her nipple covers were like jewels set upon a dune of fine, snow-white sand.
To see a thing is to covet it. Watching that from so close, already wound tight, an impulse rose in me. Just once would be enough. Even a brush of contact would be more than enough. I wanted to put my hand on her breast.
I swallowed a useless mouthful of spit and fixed my gaze as if nailing my eyes to her chest. Make up your mind, and action follows — not really the occasion for that saying, but still. I began to take her measure. By then I couldn't see anything else.
...Had about three minutes passed like that? I made my decision and turned my head all at once. Because I had to make it look like an accident.
The plan went like this. I had been looking somewhere else, and so I failed to notice my hand straying onto her breast. The moment it made contact, I would pretend to startle.
"Oh my, I was looking elsewhere, so I didn't even realize my hand had touched your breast. Ohoho."
That was the idea.
And a person doesn't get to ravish whoever's in front of them just because they're horny. That's basic social decency — a virtue any human being ought to keep.
Someone seemed to have said that. For the moment, it wasn't me.
...You could call me a perverted bastard who can't uphold social decency, let alone anything a human being ought to keep. But think about it. Azael crushed my chest with hers first, didn't she? Even now, towel or not, you could say she's been touching my legs this whole time. So this is justified. This is rational.
Factor in the time spent in contact, and I'm willing to count a mere brush as equivalent exchange. From her side, isn't that pure profit? If anything, the unfairness fell on me. That faint question from my conscience — you don't actually believe that, do you — I trampled flat. The plan was perfect.
Play dumb. Touch the very slightest bit, then pull away. I'd been standing in this posture long enough for my legs to go numb, and I'd stared so hard just now that I could gauge the distance with my eyes closed. Very slowly. As if by accident. I started shifting my arm while looking conspicuously elsewhere.
A soft slide.
"...!"
Contact. I'd made contact. Before long the heat of her skin rested at my fingertips.
...This is really enough.
My heart pounded like it had lost its mind, and a smile formed all on its own. Touching her with my hand, that heat from before seemed to come back — you know, when our breasts had pressed together. I'd been too flustered then to remember the sensation properly, and now, at last, I was laying that regret to rest. A little. Just a little more...
"...Haa... ha."
I swallowed my breath. What was she doing right now? Still frozen, looking somewhere else, too busy mechanically wiping my legs to notice? Or had my hand landed on her breast all at once, leaving her flinching with wide, startled rabbit eyes?
It wasn't as if I knew her romantic history, and this might be an extremely rude thing to think. But it occurred to me that she might be a forever-single, too. Of course she would be, shy as she was. I was openly stroking her breast, and there wasn't a scrap of feedback.
Wait. Hold on.
Only then did I realize it. A moment ago — maybe for quite a while now — she had not been wiping my legs. Not even now, while the slick running from between my thighs streaked all the way down to my feet.
"...?"
Puzzled, I turned the head that had been pointed elsewhere. My neck creaked worse than a screw caked in rust, turning slowly, so very slowly, until I met her eyes.
"...Baby."
She was calling to me, lightly nuzzling her cheek against my lecherous hand.
What I had touched, from the very start, was not her breast. It was her cheek. But I hadn't made a mistake. She had set her cheek in the place where her breast was supposed to be.
...Wait. Then she had caught on at some point and turned her head. And if that was no later than when I'd been grinning to myself, convinced my hand was on her breast, then that whole sequence — me leaking, me smiling — she had seen all of it.
The instant I understood, heat flared through my entire body as if I'd caught fire.
Fuck—
Before I could even finish the curse in my head, I had to face one fact.
Her breasts, as I have said, were enormous. What did that mean? For her cheek to sit where her breast should have been, she would absolutely have had to brace a hand against the floor, or hold on to something else. So, of everything her hands could reach as she crouched in front of me, what could she most naturally grab?
...My ankle.
Somewhere in the space I hadn't noticed, she had closed her wrist around my ankle.
"...Hayeon?"
She said it with a refined smile on her lips. I couldn't answer at all. I simply froze where I was.
"Seeing that you're wet all the way down to your ankles... it seems I'll have to wipe you all over again, from the very beginning. Only... the towel is already soaked through."
"...Shall we wipe the rest on the bed? Hehe."
From the end of those words to the moment her grip — like the roots of trees clawing through a summer mountain — closed around me and dragged me to the bed, not even three seconds passed.
She subdued me in an instant and pinned me beneath the weight of her woman's body. But it was the opposite of what I had expected, which was to be ravished by her on the bed at once. She spoke to me with a rather serious face.
"...As badly as I want to join my body with yours, just like this... baby."
"A Guardian Angel isn't free to do whatever she pleases. Hehe..."
...Then is shutting me inside your wings on a whim and knocking me out with pheromones allowed?
I didn't bother asking a question that would kill the mood.
"First, let me tell you who I am... and just how all of this came to be. And after that."
She broke off, brushed her hair lightly aside, and brought her lips to my ear.
"...Let's do so many wonderful things."
A languid laugh spilled out of her. Then she rose again and looked me straight in the eyes. Somehow, though, an awkward little smile clung to her lips this time, as if she were embarrassed.
"...The Top/Bottom Selection... I'll make a special exception and let you decide. The truth is, Maman... doesn't have any experience with this sort of thing, either."
...!
Hearing those words, I —
not even a man —
got hard.
My heart did.