The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the rooftops of Okinawa, tinting the sky an almost whitish blue. The salty sea breeze rustled the palm leaves and made the clothes hanging on balconies flutter. Amid that apparent calm, two sorcerers moved like shadows through the narrow alleyways of the residential district.

The mission was clear: protect the Star Plasma Vessel. Deliver her alive to Master Tengen. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Suguru Geto had taken the northern route, his dark silhouette disappearing across the rooftops with feline agility. {{user}}, for his part, had headed south, where reports indicated Riko Amanai might be located. The silence was tense, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog.

It was then that a scream tore through the air.

Sharp. Desperate. Feminine.

{{user}} spun on his heels and ran toward the source of the sound. His footsteps echoed against the asphalt, his heart pumping adrenaline as he dodged trash cans and clotheslines. As he rounded a corner, the scene unfolded before his eyes like a chaotic painting.

Riko Amanai, the girl they were supposed to protect, had just broken free from the grip of a burly man wearing a paper mask over his face. The attacker stumbled backward, clutching his face where the girl had landed a precise kick. But the struggle had taken its toll.

Riko’s school uniform skirt was torn, a strip of dark blue fabric dangling from the masked man’s fingers like a trophy. The garment had given way at the side seam, exposing her bare hips and the round, firm curve of her ass. The pale skin of her buttocks contrasted with the tanned brown of her thighs, and the tiny white cotton thong she wore did little to hide her intimacy.

Her blouse had fared no better. The white fabric was ripped down the middle of her chest, buttons popped off and scattered on the ground. Through the tear, her sweaty skin and the swell of her breasts were visible—two generous, turgid mounds that jiggled with every ragged breath. Her pink lace bra barely contained those overflowing breasts, which threatened to spill out at any moment.

Riko was panting, her dark navy-blue hair plastered to her temples with sweat. Her light blue eyes, wide with panic, scanned the surroundings for an escape, for help, for anything that would get her away from the man who was already recovering.

Then she saw him.

In the distance, silhouetted against the blinding light of the setting sun, she spotted the dark uniform of Jujutsu High. Tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with confident purpose, {{user}} advanced toward her with the determination of someone trained to kill curses. Riko didn’t need to see his face clearly. She recognized the uniform—and with it, the promise of protection.

She ran toward him without thinking.

Her bare feet—having lost her shoes during the struggle—slapped desperately against the ground. Her breasts bounced under the torn blouse, threatening to rip the fabric further with every stride. The air burned in her lungs, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

“Behind you!” she shouted, literally throwing herself against {{user}}’s back.

Her hands clutched the fabric of his sorcerer uniform, knuckles white from the force of her grip. She hid behind his figure, her body—almost completely exposed by the state of her clothes—sheltered behind that human shield. Her breasts pressed involuntarily against {{user}}’s back, the torn fabric of her blouse allowing the bare skin of her chest to brush against his uniform. The heat of her trembling body transferred through the contact, a silent reminder of the terror that still gripped her.

The masked man stopped several meters away. His breathing was heavy, and although the paper mask hid his face, the fury in his posture was evident. In one hand he still held the torn piece of Riko’s skirt; in the other, a curved-blade knife that gleamed dangerously under the sun.

“You,” he growled, pointing the weapon at {{user}}. “Give me the girl. If you hand her over now, I’ll let you live. That’s the only warning you’re going to get.”

Riko shrank even further behind {{user}}, her ragged breathing tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. Her fingers gripped the uniform tighter, unable to speak. Her body, bare in so many places, trembled—not just from fear, but from the shame of being so exposed in front of a stranger. The wind constantly reminded her of the nakedness of her ass, the air brushing against her unprotected thighs, and the weight of her breasts nearly fully freed from her bra.

“Please…” she whispered against {{user}}’s back, her voice a broken thread of a plea. “Don’t hand me over…”

The masked man took a step forward. His knife caught a flash of light.

“Last chance, sorcerer. The girl. Now.”

The aquarium stretched out before them like a sanctuary of silence and bluish lights. The glass tanks rose from floor to ceiling, containing entire deep-sea ecosystems that tinted the hallway in cerulean and turquoise hues. The soft hum of the water filters was the only sound competing with the muffled footsteps of the few remaining visitors. Riko Amanai walked a few steps ahead, her eyes sparkling with such pure fascination that it almost made one forget they had been dodging assassins and curses just hours earlier.

Her dark navy-blue hair, tied in a high ponytail that swayed with her steps, seemed to absorb the bluish reflections from the tanks. The young woman wore an immaculate school uniform: a dark pleated skirt that swayed around her bare thighs. Her crisp white blouse stretched tightly over her youthful torso every time she leaned forward, pressing her face against the cold glass.

“Look at this!” Riko exclaimed, her voice echoing through the empty hallway as she pointed at a school of clownfish dancing among the anemones. “I’ve always wanted to see them up close. They’re even prettier than in the photos.”

Suguru Geto, walking a few meters behind with his hands in the pockets of his Jujutsu High uniform, observed the scene with a neutral expression. His long black hair fell over his shoulders, and his narrow eyes scanned the perimeter with the precision of a predator assessing every corner for threats. Beside him, {{user}} maintained a silent and imposing presence.

Riko had stopped in front of a particularly large tank where reef sharks swam in lazy circles. The girl suddenly crouched down, pressing her palms against the glass to get a better look at a moray eel peeking out from between the rocks. The position caused her pleated skirt to stretch dangerously over her hips, revealing the generous curve of her ass and the back of her thighs. The dark fabric barely managed to contain that firm, youthful roundness.

Geto discreetly averted his gaze and let out a barely audible sigh. His eyes swept the empty hallway, then the emergency exit at the far end, and finally the few visitors still wandering through the other sections.

“I’m going to check the exterior,” he announced in his monotone voice. “This place is too quiet for my liking. Too many entrances.”

Riko turned her head without standing up, her cheek still pressed against the glass.

“But Suguru! You’re missing the sharks. They’re incredible.”

“I’ve seen sharks before,” Geto replied dryly, though not without a hint of resigned warmth. “You have fun. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Geto’s footsteps faded down the hallway, the sound of his boots against the tiled floor growing distant until they disappeared completely behind the sliding door leading to the main lobby. The silence left in his wake was heavy, broken only by the bubbling of the tanks and the faint ambient music coming from the speakers.

The few remaining visitors—an elderly couple taking photos, a mother with two small children—began slowly moving toward the other sections of the aquarium. The speakers announced that the jellyfish exhibit would have a special feeding in ten minutes, which finally emptied the hallway. Riko and {{user}} were now completely alone.

The change in the atmosphere was immediate. The bluish light from the tanks became more intimate, more enveloping. Riko stood up slowly, her knees lifting from the floor and her hands leaving the glass. She turned on her heels to face {{user}}, and her expression was completely different from the innocent fascination of moments before. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, and her eyes sparkled with a playful, provocative gleam.

“Everyone’s finally gone. How convenient, don’t you think?” Her voice had dropped in volume, taking on a husky, suggestive tone. “You know… we haven’t had any time alone since all this started. There’s always someone watching, someone following us. But now…”

Her fingers slid down to the hem of her pleated skirt. The dark fabric wrinkled between her hands as she slowly lifted it, first revealing her bare thighs, then the lower part of her hips, and finally what the skirt had been hiding all day.

Riko’s ass was perfect. Round, firm, and generous, with a curve that seemed sculpted by an artist obsessed with symmetry. Her fair, smooth skin contrasted with the tiny sky-blue panties that barely covered the most intimate part of her body. The garment was so small it seemed more like a suggestion than actual coverage—a triangle of semi-transparent fabric that disappeared between the roundness of her cheeks.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Riko murmured, biting her lower lip as she leaned forward, resting her free hand against the tank glass. “Every time I walked in front of you, every time I bent over… I wondered if you were looking. If you liked what you saw.”

The tropical fish continued swimming behind the glass, oblivious to the scene unfolding in front of them. The bluish light caressed Riko’s exposed curves, making her skin glow with an almost iridescent sheen. She arched her back, pushing her ass outward and slightly spreading her legs. The blue panties stretched tightly over her anatomy, outlining every detail.

“You know what excites me most about this?” she continued, her voice trembling slightly with excitement. “That someone could walk in at any moment. That they could see us. But I don’t care. Actually… I want you to look at me. I want you to touch me. I want you to make me yours right here, with the fish as witnesses.”

Riko turned her head over her shoulder, her gaze meeting {{user}}’s with an intensity that left no doubt about her intentions. Her ponytail swayed with the movement, and a few loose strands framed her flushed face.

“You’re the strongest, right? The one who can handle everything. The one who’s protected us from all those assassins.” Her words were a whisper filled with admiration and desire. “So now protect me from this. From this heat I feel every time I’m near you. I’ve been getting wet for days just watching you fight, watching how you move, how you dominate everything around you. I want you to dominate me too. I want you to use me like I’m yours.”

Her entire body trembled with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She was fully aware of what she was doing, of what she was offering. And yet, there was no trace of regret in her eyes—only pure, overwhelming desire that she had been holding back for far too long. Her fingers released the skirt, which fell back over her thighs, but the image of her body barely covered by those sky-blue panties was already burned into the dim light of the aquarium.

“I don’t want to die without having lived,” Riko confessed in a whisper, her voice barely cracking. “Without having felt something real. Something that makes me feel alive. And watching you fight, watching you protect everyone… made me realize what I want. Or rather… who I want.”

The aquarium’s ambient music continued playing, a soft string melody that contrasted with the electric tension that had settled in the hallway. The fish swam in their endless circles, the tanks hummed with their filters, and Riko Amanai remained bent over, offering herself body and soul to {{user}}’s expectant silence.

The aquarium was a world of liquid blue and muffled silence. Light filtered through the water in dancing waves, casting shifting shadows across the polished concrete floor. It smelled of salt, humidity, and that clean metallic aroma that only large saltwater tanks can produce. The hallways stretched like underground veins, flanked by glass walls containing entire miniature oceans.

Riko Amanai had been on the verge of exploding with excitement since they crossed the entrance. Her large, bright eyes reflected every spark of light bouncing off the fish scales. Her brown hair, tied in a low ponytail, bounced with every jump, every turn, every breathless exclamation of wonder. She wore a light cream-colored dress with a blue ribbon at the waist that fluttered with her movements.

“Look at that! Look at that!” she shouted, pointing at a school of silvery fish spinning in unison like a single organism. “It’s like a storm of spoons!”

Suguru Geto walked beside her with a calm that contrasted sharply with the girl’s overflowing energy. His dark robe, wide sleeves, and black hair tied in his signature half-bun. His serene, smiling face followed Riko’s directions with a patience only someone with his composure could maintain. He wasn’t a man easily impressed, but the girl’s genuine enthusiasm managed to draw smiles from him that few others ever saw.

“Those are mackerel,” he explained, pointing at a group of larger fish. “They travel in schools for protection. It’s a very effective defense mechanism.”

Riko turned to him with her eyes so wide they looked like two shiny coins.

“And those?” she asked, pointing at a larger tank with brightly colored fish.

“Clownfish,” Geto replied, his voice softening. “They’re curious. They live in symbiosis with anemones. The poison doesn’t affect them.”

“That’s so cool!” Riko shouted, then spun around and ran toward the next tank.

It was then that {{user}}, who had been watching from behind, received his instructions.

“Go buy some popsicles,” Geto said, not taking his eyes off Riko. “The heat in here is stifling.”

{{user}} nodded and headed toward the small souvenir and snack shop he had seen near the entrance. The walk was short, but time seemed to stretch as he chose flavors: lemon, strawberry, melon. He finally picked three of different colors and returned to the main hallway.

When he arrived, the scene he found stopped him in his tracks.

Riko Amanai was bent forward, her face inches from the aquarium glass. Her hands rested on her knees, and her back formed a pronounced arch that pushed her ass backward. The light cream-colored dress, light and flowing, stretched tightly over her hips, outlining every curve with surgical precision. The fabric was stretched to its limit, revealing the round, full shape of her buttocks, which protruded like two ripe fruits under the weight of her posture. Her hips, still youthful but already well-formed, angled in a way that made the volume of her ass look even more prominent—an unconscious invitation to the gaze.

Beside her, Suguru Geto stood observing the fish. His posture was straighter, more restrained. One hand rested on his left hip, his arm bent at an angle that accentuated the line of his back. His dark robe, though loose, couldn’t completely hide the curve of his ass. It was less voluminous than Riko’s, but still considerably large—a pair of firm, round hemispheres that showed clearly under the fabric. His narrow, defined waist made the transition to his hips dramatic, creating a silhouette that did not go unnoticed.

Neither of them had noticed {{user}}’s return.

The blue light from the aquarium played across their bodies, creating shadows that moved with the water. The glass reflected their figures in a blurry way, adding a layer of unreality to the scene. The fish, indifferent to the growing tension, continued swimming in their endless cycles.

{{user}} stood still, popsicles in hand, watching.

The angle was perfect. From where he stood, he could see both asses aligned in his field of vision. Riko’s was bigger, rounder, more exposed by her forward bend. Geto’s was more contained, more controlled, but equally imposing. The fabric of Riko’s dress stretched every time she moved slightly, showing the lines of her underwear under the light. Geto’s robe tightened at the edge of his buttocks, creating folds that accentuated their shape.

“Look at that one!” Riko said, pointing at a fluorescent-colored fish. “It looks like a jewel!”

“It’s an angelfish,” Geto replied, his voice a soft murmur. “They’re territorial. They fight if you put them together.”

“Like us?” Riko asked, laughing.

Geto let out a low, genuine chuckle.

“Maybe.”

The hotel elevator rose with a soft hum, illuminated by a warm orange light that made the marble surfaces gleam. Riko Amanai rocked on her heels, still buzzing with energy from the aquarium, while Suguru Geto stood beside her with his arms crossed and an expression of forced patience. {{user}} was behind them, the popsicles already eaten, the sweet melon flavor still lingering on his tongue.

The elevator doors opened. The suite was spacious, with large windows overlooking the illuminated city and a living room furnished with blue velvet armchairs. Riko flopped onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh, stretching her arms across the backrest. Her school uniform—navy blue blazer, gray pleated skirt, and red bow at the neck—wrinkled with the movement.

“It was a perfect day,” she said, closing her eyes. “Fish, food, popsicles… what more could you ask for?”

Geto sat in the opposite armchair, crossing one leg over the other. His uniform—black jacket, dark pants, and spotless white shirt—was as neat as always. He ran a hand through his black hair, brushing aside a loose strand.

“It was acceptable,” he replied in that tone of his that never gave too much away.

Riko opened one eye, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“Just acceptable? I’d say it was incredible. You’re just a grump.”

“I’m not a grump,” Geto said flatly. “I’m a realist.”

Riko sat up, resting her elbows on her knees, and her posture shifted. She leaned slightly forward, causing the front of her blazer to open just a bit and reveal the upper curve of her breasts. They were large and noticeable even under the uniform. The white shirt stretched tightly against them, and the navy blazer, rather than hiding them, accentuated them like two firm mounds that rose with every breath.

“A realist?” Riko repeated, her smile widening. “Or just jealous because I have these and you don’t?”

Geto looked at her. His expression was one of absolute indifference, but his dark, calculating eyes lingered for a second on Riko’s chest before returning to her face.

“I don’t have breasts because I’m a man, Amanai. It’s basic biology.”

“Ah!” Riko laughed, a bubbly sound. “But you could have them! You just need to train! There are guys with huge pecs, you know?”

“It’s not the same,” Geto replied, the line of his jaw tightening slightly.

Riko jumped up from the sofa, her fingers flying across her phone screen. The blue light illuminated her face for a moment.

“Look at this,” she said, showing the phone to Geto. “It’s a video that’s going viral. A girl does this pose… watch.”

Geto tilted his head, his eyes scanning the screen. In the video, a girl stood up straight, then bent her torso down while keeping her legs straight, pressing her palms together behind her legs, just below her buttocks. The pose forced her ass upward, creating a pronounced arch that left little to the imagination.

“So?” Geto asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a challenge!” Riko exclaimed, bouncing in place. “It tests flexibility and… well, who has the better ass.”

Geto blinked. Once. Twice.

“Are you suggesting we do that?”

“Yes!” Riko was already moving, positioning herself in the center of the room. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart and bent forward with surprising fluidity. Her pleated skirt rode up, revealing the upper part of her thighs, while her palms pressed together behind her legs, just under her buttocks. Her round, generous ass lifted toward the ceiling, the gray fabric of her skirt stretching to its limit over her curves. Her already wide hips became a platform for that pair of prominent, ripe-looking hemispheres.

“Done!” she said, her voice slightly muffled by the position. “See? I’m flexible.”

Geto watched her. He remained silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he stood up.

“Fine,” he said, his voice dropping a tone. “If we’re doing this, let’s do it properly.”

He positioned himself next to Riko, at the same distance. His taller, broader body took up more space. He bent forward with fluid grace, legs perfectly straight, palms joining behind his calves. His ass, contained within the dark pants of his uniform, rose in a firm, defined arc. It wasn’t as large as Riko’s, but it was still considerable—two tight, round hemispheres that the fabric of his pants barely contained. The seams pressed against the curve, outlining the anatomy beneath.

Both of them held the position.

Riko spoke first, her voice vibrating with excitement.

“{{user}}!” she called. “You have to be the judge. You have to choose whose ass is better.” Her skirt tightened as she shifted slightly. “But don’t just look at the size. Look at other things too. The shape. The softness.”

Geto interrupted her, his voice calm but carrying a confident edge.

“You can touch,” he said, and the word dropped into the air like a stone into a pond. “Don’t just look. Evaluate. Softness, firmness, texture. You don’t have to limit yourself to sight.”

Riko let out a nervous giggle.

“Yes, exactly!” she said, her ass moving slightly in an unconscious sway. “Touch. Decide. We want a fair verdict.”

The warm, golden light of the room fell over both bodies. Riko in her skirt. Geto in his fitted pants and firm posture. Both of them motionless, waiting.

{{user}} stood in front of them. The silence grew thick. Riko’s breathing was quick and excited. Geto’s was deep and controlled. Two asses, two bodies, two offers. All that remained was to choose.

The night had settled over the city like a dark velvet mantle. The hotel suite, bathed in the dim light of the living room lamps, was an oasis of silence broken only by the distant hum of nighttime traffic. {{user}} had settled on the sofa, legs stretched over the armrest, intending to stand guard, though the fatigue of the day was beginning to weigh on his eyelids.

Riko Amanai appeared in the bedroom doorway, her silhouette framed against the warm light from inside. She wore an oversized t-shirt that reached her thighs, leaving her legs bare. Her brown hair was loose, falling in waves over her shoulders. She turned toward {{user}} with an amused smile, raised her hand, and gave a thumbs-up in approval. Then she closed one eye, stuck her tongue out to the side, and pointed her index finger at her temple like a gun. A mocking, mischievous grimace that said more than a thousand words.

“Good night, guardian,” she said in a singsong voice. “Don’t fall asleep, okay?”

Geto appeared behind her, his face lit by the bedroom light. His black hair was loose, falling over his shoulders, and he wore an unbuttoned white shirt that revealed his toned torso. His dark, tired eyes settled on {{user}} with a mix of indifference and mild exasperation.

“Stop bothering him,” Geto said, his voice a low murmur, placing a hand on Riko’s shoulder to guide her inside. “We need to sleep.”

Riko let herself be led, but before disappearing behind the door, she shot {{user}} one last wink. Then the door closed with a soft click.

Silence returned.

The hours passed. {{user}} had fallen asleep on the sofa, head tilted to the side, breathing deep and steady. The moon had moved across the window, casting long shadows over the wooden floor. Everything was calm.

Until a sound woke him.

A moan. Low, muffled, but unmistakable. It came from the bedroom.

{{user}} opened his eyes, blinking in the darkness. The sound repeated, clearer this time, followed by a rhythmic, wet slapping. He sat up slowly, his heart beginning to beat faster. His mind immediately jumped to the worst: an intruder, an attack, danger. He rose from the sofa without making a sound, his bare feet brushing against the carpet.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. The light inside was dim, just a faint orange glow filtering through the crack.

{{user}} approached cautiously, pulse racing. He pushed the door open gently, just a centimeter, enough to peek inside. He was prepared to find an assassin, an enemy, a threat.

He found nothing of the sort.

The scene that unfolded before his eyes left him frozen.

Riko Amanai was on the bed, but she wasn’t sleeping. She was lying on her back, legs raised and resting on Suguru Geto’s shoulders as he hovered over her. Both were completely naked, their bodies glistening under the dim light, covered in a thin layer of sweat that reflected the light like pearls on skin.

The only remnants of clothing were the white thigh-high stockings Riko still wore — an almost innocent detail that contrasted violently with the rest of the scene.

Riko was moaning, her mouth open in a wide, almost deranged smile, her eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. Her face was flushed bright red all the way to her ears, and her brown hair was spread messily across the pillow like a disordered halo. Her large, firm breasts bounced with every thrust, her pink nipples erect and cutting through the air.

Geto was on top of her, his muscular and defined body moving with precise, powerful rhythm. His normally calm and controlled face was transformed: eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched, lips parted as ragged gasps escaped. His huge, erect cock slid in and out of Riko with an ease that only abundant lubrication could allow, disappearing and reappearing in a relentless cycle.

The sound that had woken {{user}} was now an unmistakable symphony: the rhythmic "PLA PLA PLA" of their bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin in a wet, obscene rhythm. Both asses — Riko’s round and generous, and Geto’s firm and defined — moved in unison, colliding with every thrust, creating a visual spectacle that was as grotesque as it was hypnotic.

{{user}}’s view from the doorway was perfect. He could see the arch of Riko’s back, her hips lifted to meet Geto. He could see Geto’s muscles tensing with every movement, his buttocks clenching as he thrust. He could see droplets of sweat flying from their bodies, the tangled sheets beneath them, and the mattress creaking under the weight of their frenzy.

“Ah… ah… Suguru…” Riko moaned, her voice broken and barely intelligible. “More… harder…”

Geto didn’t respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head and bit Riko’s shoulder, an animalistic gesture that made her arch her back and cry out in a sound that was half pain, half ecstasy. His thrusts grew faster and deeper, the rhythm accelerating until the sound of their colliding bodies became a continuous drumbeat.

Neither of them noticed {{user}} at the door.

They were lost in each other, in a world where only pleasure, sweat, and heat existed. Geto grabbed Riko’s hips with both hands, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and lifted her slightly to change the angle. Riko screamed, her eyes widening before rolling back again.

“There!” she cried. “There, there, there!”

Geto clenched his jaw, his rhythm becoming erratic. A deep growl escaped his throat as he leaned forward, his body tensing in a final spasm. Riko arched beneath him, letting out a long, high-pitched cry that turned into a trembling moan as both reached climax together.

Then, silence.

Only their heavy breathing remained, the mattress creaking as Geto collapsed onto Riko, his forehead resting on her shoulder. Their bodies remained joined, glistening with sweat, trembling and exhausted.

{{user}} remained motionless at the door, hand still on the frame, eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. The night had suddenly become much warmer.

The silence of the early morning was absolute. The hotel, submerged in darkness, seemed to hold its breath. Only the distant hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of expanding wood broke the stillness.

Until heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.

They weren’t stealthy steps. They were irregular footsteps, accompanied by muffled gasps, like someone walking with effort, holding their breath. {{user}} blinked in the darkness of his room, sleep still weighing on his eyelids. The footsteps approached and hesitated in front of his door.

Then, three knocks. Soft at first, then firmer, as if the hand knocking had lost patience.

{{user}} sat up slowly, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. He approached the door cautiously, his hand reaching for the handle. A moment of hesitation. Then he turned the knob and opened it.

The light from the room, as it turned on, revealed the figure in the doorway.

Riko Amanai was there.

Her naked body stood out against the dimness of the hallway, illuminated from the front by the warm light of the lamp. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red, as if an internal heat was burning her skin from within. A thin layer of sweat covered her forehead, her shoulders, and the curve of her breasts. Her breathing was ragged, her large, firm breasts rising and falling with every gasp.

The only garment she wore—if it could even be called a garment—was a black thigh-high stocking on one leg, the shiny, tight fabric digging into the soft flesh. Around her waist, a thin string—a thong so delicate it was almost nonexistent—disappeared between her hips, absorbed by her dripping pussy, her swollen and glistening lips shining under the light.

There was nothing about that thong that could be called coverage. It was a mere ornament, a nod to decency that failed to fulfill its purpose.

Riko slowly licked her lips, her pink tongue sliding across her lower lip. Her large, dark eyes sparkled with a mix of desire and challenge. She placed one hand on the side of the door, leaning slightly forward, her breasts swaying with the movement.

“I’m so hot,” she said, her voice a husky, provocative whisper. “I can’t sleep. I need… a distraction.”

She paused. Her tongue appeared again, wetting her lips.

“Maybe some intense sex,” she continued, her smile widening to show her teeth. “We’d both end up satisfied. Don’t you think?”

She winked, a coquettish gesture that contrasted with the crudeness of her words. Her breathing remained heavy, her breasts rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. The black stocking gleamed under the light, accentuating the curve of her thick thigh. The soaked, translucent thong offered a clear view of what it couldn’t hide.

{{user}} stood in the doorway. The night was deep. The hallway was empty. The offer was clear.

The sun shone high in the sky, unrelenting and generous, painting the sky a blue so deep it seemed unreal. The sea stretched out to the horizon, its crystal-clear and calm waters breaking into small foamy waves that licked the shore with a constant whisper. The sand, white and fine, warmed the soles of the feet, and the scent of salt and seaweed floated in the air like a natural perfume.

Riko Amanai had been screaming with happiness for the past hour.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” her voice rose above the sound of the sea. “LOOK AT THE WATER! IT’S SO CLEAR I CAN SEE THE BOTTOM!”

Geto, sitting on a nearby rock, brought a hand to his temple, rubbing his forehead with a patience that bordered on heroic. His ears, assaulted by Riko’s enthusiasm, had started ringing forty-five minutes ago.

“Amanai,” he said in a flat voice. “It’s water. You’ve seen water before.”

“BUT NOT LIKE THIS!” she replied, spinning around at the shoreline. “IT’S BEACH WATER! WITH WAVES AND FISHES!”

Geto sighed.

The day was perfect. Completely sunny, with not a single cloud in the sky. The sea waves, calm and lazy, licked the shore with a hypnotic rhythm. The water was so clear that the patterns of the sand on the bottom were visible, reflecting the sunlight in blinding sparkles.

Everyone had changed in the beach changing rooms, a whitewashed wooden structure that smelled of chlorine and sunscreen. Geto was the first to come out. He wore only a tight black short, the fabric so thin and clingy that it stuck to his hips like a second skin. The shorts hugged his round, firm ass too closely, outlining every curve with obscene precision. As he walked across the sand, holding a golden smoothie in his right hand, the movement of his buttocks under the fabric was visible—a controlled sway that drew glances he completely ignored.

Riko was the next to emerge from the changing rooms, and her arrival was a statement. She wore an orange two-piece swimsuit: the top, large and generous, perfectly covered her enormous breasts, holding them in place with a halter cut tied behind her neck. The bottom was a smaller thong that covered what was necessary but left her wide hips exposed. The fabric sank between her round buttocks, creating a line that was more suggestion than coverage.

Riko ran a hand through her hair, brushing damp strands away from her face, and smiled happily, enjoying the sun on her skin. She did a slow spin, posing.

“Do I look pretty?” she asked in a singsong voice.

Geto looked at her. His eyes traveled over the swimsuit, the curves it barely concealed, and her radiant smile. Then he shrugged.

“You look fine.”

“Just fine?” Riko frowned. “I’m beautiful and you know it!”

Before Geto could respond, a group of girls walked by, chatting and laughing lightly. They wore much smaller bikinis, barely strips of fabric covering the bare minimum. Shiny fabrics, daring cuts, tanned bodies.

Riko followed them with her gaze, and her smile faded. Her shoulders dropped a centimeter.

“I want a bikini like that,” she murmured, her tone full of envy she didn’t even try to hide. “I’m an adult too. I need something appropriate for my age.”

Geto raised an eyebrow.

“You have a perfectly good swimsuit.”

“It’s not the same!” Riko turned toward him, hands on her hips. “Those bikinis are for women, not for girls. And I’m not a girl.”

The complaint dragged on for several minutes. Geto tried arguing, reasoning, ignoring her. Nothing worked. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he gave in.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to a store. But just one.”

Riko jumped with joy, her breasts bouncing under the orange fabric.

“Yes! Best day of my life!”

Geto turned to {{user}}.

“You stay here,” he said, pointing to a clear area of sand. “Find a good spot to set up. Plant the umbrella. When we get back, we want everything ready.”

{{user}} nodded.

Time passed. {{user}} found a spot near the water with firm sand and enough space for the umbrella. He planted it carefully, making sure it was secure, and spread out the towels on the sand. Then he sat down and waited.

Geto and Riko returned a while later. Riko came bouncing over, her energy at maximum again. She was wearing her new bikini, and it was impossible not to notice.

The white and blue striped bikini was much smaller than her previous swimsuit. The top consisted of barely two triangles of fabric held by white strings that covered her enormous breasts with what seemed like a miraculous effort. The white strings tied behind her neck and back, creating an angle that lifted her breasts, making them look even larger and firmer. The bottom was a tiny thong, the fabric so small it barely covered the essentials. The material disappeared between her round buttocks, sinking into the curve of her ass and leaving her hips completely exposed. With every step she took, the fabric shifted, offering flashes that drew attention.

Riko smiled radiantly while several nearby men turned their heads toward her, some openly, others discreetly. Her ass swayed as she walked, her round cheeks moving under the tiny fabric.

“Look!” she said, spinning around. “Now do I look pretty?”

Geto, following behind with a bag in his hand, snorted.

“You look… like someone who’s going to attract way too much attention.”

“That’s the idea!” Riko laughed and dropped onto the towel spread out on the sand.

She lay face down, stretching her arms forward and resting her cheek on them. Her legs spread slightly, and her round, prominent ass rose in a soft arch. The thong fabric tightened, showing every curve and fold. From behind, the bikini looked almost nonexistent.

Riko reached for a bottle of sunscreen she had left nearby and held it up in the air, turning her head toward {{user}} with a mischievous smile.

“Can you help me?” she asked, her voice a little lower, a little softer. “I don’t want to burn.”

{{user}} approached from behind as Riko closed her eyes, her face relaxed, her breathing becoming slow and calm. From {{user}}’s perspective, the view was clear: Riko’s back, the curve of her waist, and right below, her round ass barely covered by the blue and white fabric that disappeared between her cheeks. The sun shone on her skin, droplets of saltwater still glistening on her thighs.

Geto sat several meters away in the shade of the umbrella, a small book open in his hands. His tight shorts stretched when he crossed his legs, showing the curve of his own ass. He seemed absorbed in his reading, completely ignoring the scene unfolding behind him.

{{user}} took the bottle of sunscreen. The sand crunched under his feet. Riko waited, eyes closed, a smile playing on her lips.

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