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Toriko pushes Sorawo onto a plush, hotel bed and rides her. Her eagerness is plainly visible as she dips down for a quick kiss, and when she rises again she holds Sorawo's eyes and strips.
Sorawo watches the shirt's removal intently. Her eyes drink in each newly exposed inch of skin. When all that remains of her top layers are a lacy bra, Sorawo swallows.
From her chair, Kozakura swallows too. She hugs her knees to her chest to be as small and unobtrusive as possible. Her own choice. She thought she could handle it.
But then Toriko reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra.
Kozakura starts to breathe through her mouth.
Toriko is so fucking pretty, and everything she does is so seductive too. Like how the rolls her slacks off of her hips, followed by the slow, downward slide of her panties. Toriko knows how to put on a show. A show just for Sorawo.
And for today, a show for Kozakura too.
Kozakura's socked heels slide off the seat. Fuck. She feels so sticky and warm. Her legs part. The air helps, but just a little. She told herself she wouldn't touch herself, but this is already too much. It is so much better than her fantasies.
She's completely misjudged how into these two she is.
And through all this Sorawo watches, enraptured.
Her staring is intense. She doesn't often stare at people, often resting her vision somewhere else. To be under it must be unnerving. And Toriko seems to like being watched. She blushes hard. She feels so hot. Her fingers slide down to gently rub her clit, and her pretty lips part to make way for airy little moans.
She can't take it anymore. Her free hand roams hungrily over Sorawo's chest, then she slips them under the hem of Sorawo's shirt. Toriko peels it off desperately, and her transluscent blue hand gropes all over in meandering paths. It never stays in one place for too long. There is so much of Sorawo that she wants to feel that she indulges each one indecisively. From Sorawo's soft stomach to her modest bust. A slight afterimage of Toriko hand remains so at times it looks like she has hundreds of them.
Kozakura swallows thickly in what was probably the fifth time. Her hands roam down to her thighs but she stills them there.
Because like yeah, they let her watch, but what if she makes noise? She's not supposed to actually participate or anything. Or be present in the scene. She's lucky to even be here.
Yet her hands dip ever slightly more between her legs.
Sorawo answer's her partner's needs, no- her Nue's needs, no-
She answers the needs of her Nue. She weaves through the horde of Toriko's fevered hands, and runs her palm over the Toriko's sopping pussy. Toriko bites her lower lip and whines. Her pretty lashes flutter closed. Kozakura can see it from every angle.
Kozakura can't stop herself from doing the same to her own dripping cunt.
She gasps. That alone has felt better than it ever has on her own. Its like she was actually there.
Sorawo smirks.
She makes Toriko bounces on her hand. She lets out a low chuckle that sounds ominous as it does hot. Something like latent prey instinct shoots its way down Kozakura's spine. Her legs turn to jelly. Escape is no longer an option. She is at the mercy of Toriko unravelling on Sorawo's fingers.
At the mercy of two them together.
And unravel Toriko does. Her hair hovers with a kind of their own. Reaching. Feeling for. The loose threads start to mingle with Sorawo's.
Kozakura watches dance, entranced. She doesn't even notice her tongue lolling out, her spit dripping to puddle along with the soaked chair.
Like a a lulled moth her consciousness flits closer to their heat. She can see all of them in startlingly high definitions. And then she is swallowed. And then she is inside. Now she can smell them. Feel the supple. The firm. Now she can taste them, from their sweat to their juices.
And heres where things get really weird.
Because it's not that Kozakura has stopped watching. Not on your life.
It's just that she can't describe any of it. But it is undeniably erotic. Its like sort of like a blurring censor, but the implication makes it all the sexier.
Only it is nothing so static. Their form shifts continually so that it can never be pinned down. Kozakura can "see" it from within and also without.
It holds onto her too. Like gentle hands pulling her into bliss. Kozakura gazes into it. At times, the image shifts until its almost clear, until she can almost just understand but then she loses it again. And she's been pounding herself furiously this whole time. The only anchor she has left is her sticky thighs glued to her cuck chair. And even that starts to...
The Nue's hands sooth her from both sides. They're discussing food. They're starving. The amount they're planning to order is alarming, but Kozakura somehow feels game to eat all that. She burned a lot of calories. Her face hurts from smiling.
And she's now starting to feel the soreness from her lower half. Actually, she doesn't remember when she crawled into their bed. Kozakura looks to the two of them, and finds them also bewildered. They, like her, come back to consciousness.
They all blink. They take in where they find themselves. And they carry on.
Because what is naked cuddling after everything they just went through? It feels as strange as it did during the hot springs, which is not at all.
So they don't talk about it. Not yet. Kozakura just lets them stroke at her. Sorawo's hand in her hair, Toriko brushing her thumb to Kozakura's cheek. They look at her with expressions just short of cooing. She continue rub them iust as soothingly, because she was already doing so when she came to.
Kozakura closes her eyes and reflects.
Her throat is raw. She now remembers all of her own hoarse moaning. And the crying. No wonder she feels such catharsis. There is something so freeing about being emptied, the air drying the the exposed tears that had run down her face. She just had an incredible cum, and an incredible cry. Really, it was amazing.
It's a shame it was a one time thing.
The thought makes Kozakura snap her eyes up to them. She finds them already staring at her. They look startled to have been caught.
Kozakura opens her mouth to say something, but she already feels herself closing off again. She wants to say she liked it, but she's also cutting out her want as we speak.
Toriko ends up being the first to speak,
"That was...wow. How do I even? It was so hot! Like at one point I could hear you, right? And you were so...! Ugh, the two of you and your voices, I swear! But you were always there. Quiet but I could feel you the whole time, like-"
"The drone." Two pairs of eyes turn to Sorawo. Seeing the confusion, she decides to elaborate.
"In Indian music there is a role called the drone. Its a low humming sound that is always present. It kind of acts as the foundation for it. When I was shown examples of it, I always found it easy to resonate to. Even though it was foreign to most of us in the class, a lot of us were able to latch onto that drone."
Toriko's eyes light up. "Resonate! Yes, thats it exactly! Kozakura,, I- we could feel you the entire time. It just made everything better. Having you there."
Sorawo chimes in, "Yeah, and Toriko already liked being watched to begin with."
"Don't just say that out loud!"
Sorawo makes a face as though Toriko were the one making a fuss about someone describing the weather but she continues,
"And for me, I liked having you there. I got to feel you coming out of your shell, and it made me really happy."
"And," Sorawo adds, glancing away as though this next admission were pulling teeth, "I...liked being the one to do it to you."
Which each word of praise, some things bloom within Kozakura. A feeling of being wanted. Being desired. That bastard, Hope.
She finds herself reeling once again from the fact that they like her. Well, no she kind of already knew she cared after that time she was kidnapped, but the extent of it always surprises of her. It certainly differs with how much she expects to be liked. The option to withdraw from them appears as it always does, even despite all the positive signals. There is always a deeply seeded fear that whatever this is will curdle, and that it may have been better not to try.
But here's the thing. Kozakura doesn't want to be afraid anymore. She has been so brave this past year. And in all those times these two were with her.
"Can we...do it again?"
Sorawo looks put out. "You two," she groans.
Toriko's looks surprised, but then she looks excited.
"Not right now!" Kozakura corrects. "I mean- can we do this again sometime?"
And even without any strands between them, Kozakura feels the answer.
The end.