Monday, April 1 – 6:27 a.m.
Aoi never went home.
She is still on her knees in the exact spot I left her last night, naked now, small body curled like a kitten on the hardwood floor beside my bed. The morning sun stripes across her pale skin through the half-open blinds. Her thighs are sticky, streaked white with last night's loads. My cum is still leaking slowly from her swollen, freshly broken pussy, pooling on the floor beneath her in a glossy puddle. Her tiny pink nipples are puffy and dark from hours of sucking and pinching. There are faint red marks on her hips where I held her too tight.
She wakes the moment I stir. Her eyes (still glassy, still 90 % arrow-drunk) snap open and fix on my morning wood, already thick and veiny, curving upward, the fat head flushed purple and drooling a steady string of pre-cum onto my abs.
A soft, desperate whine escapes her throat.
I sit up slowly, sheets falling away, and crook one finger.
She crawls forward on hands and knees, small tits swaying, ass high, pussy lips visibly glistening between her spread thighs. When she reaches the bed she doesn't wait for permission. She presses her face to my inner thigh, inhales deeply, then drags her tongue in one long, worshipful stripe from my balls to the tip of my cock, lapping up the pre-cum like it's the sweetest thing she's ever tasted.
"Good morning, Aoi," I say, voice rough from sleep.
She shivers, pulls back just far enough to speak, lips brushing the head with every word.
"Good morning… please let me have breakfast on my knees…"
I let her.
She takes me slow (exactly the way I taught her last night). Small mouth stretching wide around the crown, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling under the ridge. She can only manage four inches before her throat flutters and tears spring to her eyes, but she never stops trying, gagging softly, drool spilling down my shaft and over my balls in shiny rivulets. Her tiny hands wrap around the base, stroking what she can't swallow, twisting gently.
I thread my fingers through her hair and guide her rhythm (slow, steady, worshipful). Ten minutes. Fifteen. Her mascara from yesterday is long gone, but fresh tears make her eyes sparkle.
When my balls draw tight I pull her off by the hair. She whimpers, lips swollen and shiny, a thick string of spit and pre-cum connecting her mouth to my cock.
"Bed," I order. "On your back. Spread."
She scrambles to obey, lying in the exact center of the mattress, knees falling open without hesitation. Her pussy is a wreck (puffy, flushed dark pink, inner lips gaping slightly from last night, my cum still oozing out in slow pulses). She reaches down with both small hands and spreads herself open for me, showing me everything.
"Please," she whispers, voice cracking. "I woke up so empty… I need you to fill me again… I'm aching…"
I kneel between her thighs, line up, and sink in with one slow, relentless push.
The sound she makes is inhuman (half sob, half scream). Her back bows off the bed, toes curling, tiny tits jiggling as her whole body tries to take me deeper. She's impossibly tight, velvet heat gripping every vein, every ridge. When my hips finally meet hers and the head kisses her cervix she comes instantly, pussy clamping down in rhythmic waves, squirting clear fluid around my shaft in hot pulses that soak my balls and the sheets beneath us.
I don't move yet. I just stay buried, letting her ride it out, feeling her flutter and milk me.
When the spasms fade she looks up at me with wet, adoring eyes.
"Thank you… thank you for using me…"
I start to move (long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out until just the head stretches her entrance, then sliding back in to the root). Every thrust makes her small body jolt, her tits bounce, her breath hitch. I keep the pace torturous. Twenty minutes. Thirty. She comes again at the forty-minute mark, harder this time, nails raking my back, begging in broken Japanese and English.
I finally let myself go on the third hour. I pin her knees to her shoulders, fold her tiny body in half, and drive deep. When I come it's endless (thick, heavy ropes flooding her womb until her lower belly swells faintly and cum bubbles out around my shaft with every slow withdrawal). She sobs through her fourth orgasm, clinging to me, whispering "thank you" over and over like a prayer.
We stay locked together, my cock plugging every drop inside her, while the morning sun climbs higher.
9:11 a.m. – Shower
I carry her to the bathroom because her legs won't work.
Under the hot water she kneels again without being asked, washing me with trembling hands, spending ten solid minutes cleaning my cock and balls with her tongue, looking up at me the whole time with pure worship.
11:07 a.m. – Kitchen
I sit her naked on the counter, legs spread wide, and feed her strawberries dipped in fresh cream while I finger her slowly (two thick fingers curling inside her, thumb circling her clit). She comes twice just from that, dripping onto the marble, licking cream off my fingers between bites.
1:33 p.m. – Living-room floor
I take her on all fours in front of the open window, the same spot where she stood last night. Slow, deep strokes from behind while she watches the alley (terrified and thrilled someone might see). I make her describe exactly how it feels every time I bottom out. She comes so hard she collapses forward, cheek pressed to the cool wood, ass still in the air, pussy spasming around me.
4:12 p.m. – Couch
She rides me reverse cowgirl, small hands braced on my thighs, rolling her hips in slow circles exactly the way I taught her. I reach around and rub her clit until she squirts again, clear fluid gushing down my balls and soaking the cushions.
7:50 p.m. – Dinner
I eat take-out bent over the table while she sits on my lap, impaled, feeding me pieces of sushi between soft rolls of her hips. We never separate for more than thirty seconds all day.
11:59 p.m. – Bed again
I finish the first full day exactly where we started: missionary, her ankles locked around my waist, my cock buried to the hilt while I kiss her slow and deep. When I come the final time I stay inside her, letting her fall asleep with me still hard and pulsing, plugging every drop.
Just before she drifts off she murmurs against my neck, voice sleepy and blissed-out:
"Twenty-eight days left… please don't ever take it out…"
The arrow hums warmly under my skin, satisfied.
‹ Twenty-eight days, three hours, and fifty-nine minutes remaining. ›
‹ Enjoy your trial, Host. ›
I stroke her hair and smile into the dark.
April has only just begun.