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A Mountain of Surprises on the Soap Street | THP - The destination for Touhou Project fans
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File 150647087510.jpg - (138.68KB, 1280x720, where the magic happens.jpg) [iqdb]
38313 No. 38313
This CYOA is a little challenge to myself. I've written a lewd or two that I've never posted, but I figured I'd change that. Don't expect super solid or polished writing. Also, this little story is going to be pretty short by design, so don't expect there to be infinite variety in choices either.

In other words, enjoy the ride, such as it is. After all, sex itself is often brief but enjoyable.


The relief from the bright lights and general noise outside draws a sigh from you as you cross the threshold into the building. The doorman steps around you, waving you toward the front desk, where the tip of someone's head peeks over the edge.

"A customer, sir!" he calls to the desk.

A kappa's moustachioed face emerges from underneath. He struggles with something behind the desk and raises up to where you can actually see him in all his suit-and-tie glory. Neither article fits him well, and it also looks like he's wearing a hairpiece.

"Welcome to Kiwi-no-Machiawasebasho," the kappa says in a voice that doesn't sound middle-aged at all, "did you have a reservation?"

"Erm, no," you reply, trying not to stare at how the hairpiece hangs crooked.

A puff of air from the kappa makes his hairpiece flip upward for a second, and he jumps down from the stool behind the desk, shuffling around. You knew kappa were short, but he's practically the size of a fairy.

He scuttles in front to grab the door next to the front desk. "Go on in and have a seat. Somebody'll be along in a minute."

Doing as the kappa says, you step into the rather tiny, but cozy, waiting room. A couple of tengu are lounging on the couches, a business-casual crow and a fidgety young wolf. You guess they must have made their picks already, considering no one's talking to them.

You take a glance around and spot a heater. With things being chilly out, you appreciate being able to take a moment to get your bones thawed. A second look at the walls gives you a preview of some of the girls, or "sweethearts" as the sign notes, working here. You can't put your thumb on it, but the pictures don't look quite right. The girls look great -- especially the one kappa girl posing in a swimsuit with no top -- and yet you can't help thinking they look a little too great.

Somebody told you about some kind of soapland magic related to misleading pictures. It was one of those funny Outsider words that you can't ever remember. Not that it's all that important to you. Sure, you've got your tastes, but as long as she's not missing an eye or something, there's leeway. What's important here is having fun.

You park yourself on the middle couch, appreciating an opportunity to take a load off for the moment. However, you sit back up as something catches your eye on the table in front of you.

A stand-up sign has been plopped down next to a stack of clipboards, reading 'Please fill in a survey.' Not one to go against a well-mannered sign, you fetch one of the clipboards for yourself. Sure enough, it's a survey with lines for your name, age, and everything else. A quick listen outside tells you nobody's coming real soon. You may as well kill a bit of time now instead of making them wait, you figure.

What is your species?
[ ] Human
[ ] Crow
[ ] Wolf
[ ] Kappa

What is your level of experience?
[ ] It's my first time playing.
[ ] It's my first time paying.
[ ] I've been elsewhere but not here.
[ ] I'm a regular.
Expand all images
>> No. 38314
[X] Human
[X] I've been elsewhere but not here.
>> No. 38315
[x] Wolf

[x] It's my first time playing.

Can't ruin his innocence if he doesn't still have it.
>> No. 38316
[x] Wolf

[x] It's my first time playing.
>> No. 38317
[X] Human
[X] It's my first time playing.
>> No. 38318
OP here.

I don't want to rush things along, but I'd like to come to a decision soon. If anybody out there has read and not voted, consider voting within the next couple of hours. Otherwise, I'm going to flip a coin.
>> No. 38319
[X] Wolf
[X] It's my first time playing.

The K N O T
>> No. 38320
That's it, folks. Calling it here. You're a fresh-faced wolf, with all the implications that come with it. Try to relax and enjoy yourselves.

No ETA on the next update, but I'll be as quick as I can since a visit to a soapland's not rocket surgery to script out. Besides, I wouldn't want to keep the surprise from you too long.
>> No. 38330
This guy got it right
>> No. 38353
Popping in for a quick "I'm not dead, guys", as well as an announcement that I'm doing the NaNoWriMo thing. Maybe that'll speed me up. Go check it out at >>/gensokyo/15189

Oh, and I'm taking a name just for the hell of it now.
>> No. 38355
Dude that's just gonna burn you out as that's a deathmarch
>> No. 38356
File 150959373348.jpg - (193.39KB, 670x450, your lady awaits.jpg) [iqdb]
[x] Wolf
[x] It's my first time playing.

Who would have thought questions about your preferences in women would be so difficult to answer? The temptation to just write in ‘I don’t know!’ was there; erasing all those responses to put in a real answer wasn’t fun.

You just about collapse on the sofa, letting the clipboard fall askew on the table. This whole little vacation is supposed to be about relaxing, and here you are getting stressed-out over questions. Yes, they’re questions about you, and those are the questions you like the least. In fact, you think as few questions should be about you as possible. Still, it’s just paperwork. As a bureaucrat, low ranked as you are, you eat, breathe, and… well, you do a lot of paperwork at the very least.

No two ways about it: you’re nervous. You came strutting in with all that bravado, telling yourself that none of this matters, and then — bam! — back to the real you, the shaking, spineless little puppy whose coworkers poke fun at him.

Checking out the youngling over to your right, you feel a bit pathetic noting that he seems more collected. That ‘fidgeting’ you noted is actually a tail-wag of excitement. The shiny pin and those blue sleeves make it painfully obvious that he’s a newly-minted graduate, too. Why, looking at his attitude, you’d think he was a regular at places like this. It almost feels wrong to you for them to get started that young.

Your ears fall and you shake your head at yourself. No, it’s not the young who are strange. A long sigh escapes as you recall the odd looks you got from other trainees and later from your coworkers. You were an anachronism before your time, caught in the changing mores of the age. All this time that you focused on pulling your way up the ranks and into a desk job, you couldn’t admit that you were scared of mingling with your female fellows, and for what? Propriety? This isn’t the oni age anymore! Nobody’s even bound by law to wear the traditional outfit anymore — though you do just that. These are the days when young wolves groom each others’ tails as friends.

Deep breath. In, out, in, out. Just like the doc said.

You sit up on the sofa, your tail perking up with you. This isn’t any time to get down on yourself. Sure, you had to have a breakdown and cause your section immense trouble for it to happen, but you have to see the bright side of this whole ordeal. This whole trip was about making a change in yourself and bettering yourself with new experiences. That’s exactly what drew you down this street full of glittering neon lights, even when you would have run away back home.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the waiting room door blowing open. A rather lanky kappa, almost the tall younger brother of the one you met up front in terms of appearances, comes swaggering right towards you. He opens with a big, bright business smile.

“Good evening, sir!” he says, infusing each word with more energy than necessary.

Raising your ears in a friendly gesture, you find the presence of mind to respond. “Erm, good evening. Are you here for my survey?”

The kappa snaps to the clipboard you’ve left, snatching it up for perusal, a process that takes all of a few seconds. He nods and hums to himself all the while. Having read it over to his satisfaction, he tucks the clipboard under his arm and makes his way out for a moment. When he returns, your questionnaire has been replaced with a leather-bound booklet.

“I must say,” he says as he sets the booklet down on the table, “you’ve picked quite a time to visit. We’re booked quite solid tonight.”

“Oh. Does that mean I should leave, or…?” You fiddle with your collar, suddenly feeling like you may have wasted your time.

The kappa waves his hand. “That’s always a choice. Of course, if you do, you might miss out on something special. What if I told you that choices are overrated?”

You scrunch up your brow, regarding the kappa with some suspicion now. They’re rather honeyed words to your ears, considering you’ve never been one for a lot of choices, but that just raises questions for you. He’s trying to sell you on something. Just what it is, you have no idea. That much you can tell from your experience in bureau meetings.

You nod carefully. “Go on.”

“I suppose you’re sceptical.” The kappa flashes a more understated smile, adjusting his bow tie. He drums his fingers on the booklet to draw your attention to it. “That’s why I’ll admit it right here: There’s only one lady open for the rest of the night. And you know what? You’re free to walk if that’s bad. I won’t fault you. Still, let me tell you, this lady—” he brings his fingertips together and kisses them, “—is a real treasure. You have never met anyone like her. In your whole life. I can guarantee you that.”

Before you can pursue his bold claim, he flips the booklet open in one smooth motion, displaying its contents to you. Inside, a solid pink card labelled ‘Nene’ shows. “We have no picture for her. If we did, well, there’d be guys falling on the floor. Trust me when I say that I’ve had to carry guys out after playing with her. She’s that stunning.”

“Just saying. You’re here at just the right time. You’ve got this one unique chance. Why, this lovely sweetheart of ours could be your destiny, you know what I’m saying? It’s just a yes or a no,” he concludes breathlessly.

“Weren’t you guys supposed to be booked—” you start to say.

“An unexpected cancellation, sir. Hence your great luck. Otherwise, this chance would almost certainly pass you by.”

The whole sales pitch has been incredibly forward from the get-go. Not to mention you’re talking taking his word for it, sight-unseen, caveat emptor. This whole situation has ‘Run Away!’ stamped all over it—

—is what the old you would think.

This is exactly the sort of thing you came here to change. Instead of running from risks, you should be embracing them. If you can’t do that, you’ll never find new experiences; you’ll never change at all. Right now is your chance to turn yourself around and run full-speed towards a better you.

Your ears raise to full height. The kappa gives you curious nod, eager to hear an answer. Even with the growing butterflies in your stomach, you conscientiously face him down, looking him straight in the eye.

One word is all it takes.

“Yes!” you explode.

The impact of your words rings in the waiting room for a second afterwards. Every pair of eyes in on you. You look down at the floor, feeling the heat of shame painting your face red.

“Y-Yes, that’ll be f-fine.”

“Excellent!” chimes the kappa.

He snaps the booklet closed and, in the same exact motion, flicks out a laminated plastic card onto the table. His finger glides along the top of the card, a price card according to the label.

“I can already see the question in your eye, and the answer is the Honeymoon course. It’s just enough time to get to know your lovely sweetheart. Of course, you could always elect for something longer, but…” He trails off with a roll of his eyes. You’d take that as a substitute for an explanation, but you have no idea what he means at all.

With the pressure of having to make choices without insight, mental fatigue is starting to set in for you. This battle’s not worth fighting at all, you decide and nod like you’re surrendering. “Let’s go with that.”

The kappa points out the price for the Honeymoon course, the shop’s name for a block of ninety minutes. In what must be the first pleasant surprise since coming in, it’s not extremely painful for a civil servant’s salary. You’d taken the exterior for a somewhat high-end sort of place, but the thought of confirming a price range seemed too gauche for you; your plan had been to politely decline if your pocketbook was ill-equipped. You fish the agreed amount out of your pocket and slide it to the kappa.

“Very good.” Fanning the cash out, he counts them in what seems like a very brief glance. Surprisingly, he pulls one note out of the wad, passing it back to you with a wink. “An apology for the selection. Don’t tell my manager, obviously.”

Your money pocketed, he stands up and nods for the door. “This way, sir.”

You immediately fling aside any questions about following. There’s no point when you’re already locked in.

Out at the reception, the front’s been vacated for the moment. The kappa pulls you over to the desk, pulling out a pad of forms and scribbling a few items in, handing you the piece of paper folded. You suppose it’s not for your eyes.

“Due to some circumstances,” he says, clearing his throat, “Nene won’t be coming down to meet you. Just make sure she gets that, okay?” He waves to the curtained stairway. “Right up that way, fourth floor, the room on the left.”

The fact that things are going this smoothly frankly has you stupefied. You mutter your thanks and hurry to the stairs. The moment your foot touches the first step, the kappa calls out for you.


You look back wearily.

“Try to relax and let the lady lead, hm? That’s always best for first-timers,” he says with a grin.

“Erm, thanks,” you manage to respond while slipping backwards. You’re not sure where such advice is coming from, nor are you asking.

Eager to leave that whole conversation behind, you take off up the first flight of stairs. Several pairs of shoes are parked out in front of the doorways at the landing. Up the next flight, you find the same thing. Just like that kappa said, every girl in the shop must be occupied save Nene.

Your ears prick up as you reach the third floor. The sound of running water is coming from not too far up above, rushing over you in wave of almost comfort. All it takes is that noise for you to start yearning for a long soak in a hot bath. Your ascent up the stairs slows a little, your steps more relaxed. You had no idea how much of a hurry you’d been in.

As you nudge your way to the top of the stairs, landing at the fourth floor, a wave of steam hits your face. Off to your left, the door to the room is wide open, the rush of water sounding from inside.

What you don’t see is a pair of shoes next at the entrance. You could have sworn the kappa up front said Nene was here already. Glancing back at the placard indicating the floor number, you know that you’re on the right floor, looking at what should be the right room. All you can guess is that Nene must have stepped out to go to the toilet. Perhaps, you think, you ought to have done the same. Shaking your head, you leave your shoes behind and put on the pair of plastic slippers left out for you.

Stepping into the room, you can just make out the bath running, well past the point of overflowing, the temperature high enough to leave a blanket of steam fog over everything. A pink inflatable mat’s laid out on the tile floor. You swallow noting it, recalling the sorts of things that happen on top of its slippery surface. Your tail is more honest than the rest of you, swinging freely in excitement.

The tip of your tail brushes something by the door that you didn’t notice before. The moment you turn to see what it is, the chill in your blood undoes any warmth the steam from the bath may have imparted.

Tenma save you, someone you can only pray isn’t Nene has come by carrying a massive cleaver and left it propped up in here. The fact that it’s big and sturdy enough to slice a cow in half in a single stroke makes you wonder just what sort of person would have the strength to wield it. Tengu strength is nothing to laugh about, and yet you doubt you could do more than knock it over. Why someone would bring something so monstrously fearsome in with them is beyond reasoning. Even odder, almost laughably so, is the red ribbon tied in a bow around the handle. Somehow, you feel like it was meant to take away from the intimidating look of the cleaver, a function which it utterly fails in.

Your instincts have you poised to race out the door, but the sound of feet on the floor very close by catches you by surprise. A strangled yelp leaps from the back of your throat. You nearly fall over, catching yourself on the door frame and righting yourself on wobbly legs.

“Oh, heck, ya caught me by surprise!” calls someone through the steam. It’s certainly a woman’s voice, albeit gravelly, jangling, and on the deep side. “They not tell ya ta knock? Buncha dimwits down there, I tell ya.”

Any words of response are caught in your throat.

There’s a soft grumble. “Hello? Can’t’cha at least say somethin’?”

The footsteps draw even closer. Vague memories of your training flash back to you. Too bad you’re rooted in place. Your best attempt at fleeing is straightening your posture. It wouldn’t do to be slouched over while meeting the terrifying figure coming out of the mist.

A massive shadow shows through the steam. You almost think it’s the light playing tricks on your eyes, but the woman who emerges is legitimately gigantic in stature, a walking mountain. Her long, silvery-grey hair waves as she sashays towards you. The sight of it is breathtaking, the colour reminiscent of the more refined wolf tengu you’ve witnessed. It’s almost enough to allay your fears.

However, you shift to her expression and feel the nerves creep back in. Only now do you have the clarity of mind to wish you’d added a line to your preferences: ‘A gentle expression’. Hers is the polar opposite, red eyes narrowed in an ill-mannered glare, lips pulled into a flat scowl. Even if you’d say she’s attractive, there’s too much repulsive about the air she gives off. Everything about her reminds you of one of those troublemakers who squats around against the walls of buildings, taunting pedestrians, looking for an excuse to brawl. The fact that she’s in a yellow bikini and a complementary orange-red sarong does nothing to soften her edge.

The moment she notices you, however, her eyes widen. A tinge of red paints her pale cheeks. Slowly, her frown upends itself, bending into a giddy, crooked smile. Her hands leap up to her mouth.

“Oh my gosh, it’s really a wolfie!” the massive woman squeals.


There’s no time to comprehend the sudden shift. In the span of a second, you’re lifted off your feet and nestled against her sizeable bosom, held so close that you can feel her heartbeat. The scent of coconut hits your nose about the same time. These combined sensations quicken your own heartbeat and send tingles through your skin. In spite of yourself, your tail wags in pure excitement.

A moment later, you land on a bed, disturbing a layer of towels covering its surface. For the first time, you’re left face-to-face with the mountainous woman. Her face has bloomed into a full-on smile.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted ta get a wolfie in here.” She reaches up to your face, running her palm against it, quite rough against your cheek. “It’s been nothin’ but birds. And they’re just awful. Treat a girl like she ain’t nothin’! Not ta mention the couple’a humans. Gone an’ run off outta here the second they see me. Can ya believe that?”

“I-I’m not sure what to believe,” you say. Your words are likely swallowed up in the sound of the bath.

The woman starts scooting up the bed to cover you even more with her body but stops, scratching her head and looking a bit embarrassed. “Ah, fiddlesticks, I got all fired up and went’n forgot ta introduce m’self.”

She sits up on her knees, her legs open enough to see right through her loosely-tied sarong. Realising where you’re staring, you pull yourself upright too, facing her as best you can with the height difference.

“The name’s Nemuno. Some people call me a mountain hag. I just try ta get on with people, long as they mind their beeswax,” she announces with a wide grin.

“Nemuno?” you repeat back, unsure of what to make of her introduction. “You’re not Nene?”

Nemuno fixes you with a blank stare, still smiling all the while. Something rattles around in her head, her eyes roaming back and forth as she ponders it. Finally, she seems to have a realisation, and she smacks her fist into an open palm loudly.

“Yeah, that’s right! Almost slipped ma mind.” She chuckles and shrugs, running her fingers through her hair. “Them lunkheads downstairs said I gotta use a different name. I don’t pay much mind to it, though. Ain’t much use, if ya ask me.”

“That seems like a pretty serious thing to overlook, given your job,” you say. Nemuno’s finger presses to your lips.

“Now, don’t trouble yerself none over that, wolfie. Only thing ya gotta worry about here is lettin’ ol’ Nemuno show ya some love.”

Leaning over, she crawls over you, knocking you back down onto the bed without any warning. Your face is pressed into her chest, the warmth of her breasts heating you up. They’re so soft and pillowy that you unquestioningly lean into them. Your guard is so low now that you don’t flinch feeling her hand crawling up your leg, her palm grinding against the bulge that’s been growing in your pants. A soft groan escapes from you.

Nemuno pulls you up out of her breasts, leaning against your ear. “Mmmh, gettin’ horny already, ain’t’cha?” she says in a low growl.

Forcefully, she reaches down to tug your robe open, almost ripping your under-shirt as she paws at your chest, her other hand getting rougher in its assault on your groin. You grimace. While it does feel good, it’s getting to be a bit much rather quickly. The heat of her breath on your ear breaks you from the trance, and you wrench at her hand.

“Stop, stop, stop!”

Both of Nemuno’s hands retreat right away, and she backs off of you. Panting, you sit up to brush your clothes off. Even when she’s not pressed up right on you, the smell of coconuts lingers. It might be stuck to you when you leave at this rate.

“Um, sorry,” Nemuno says, scratching her neck, frowning. “I just— Y’know, I got a little too fired up an’…”

As much as you want to feel a bit perturbed at being manhandled — hag-handled? — you find it hard to be when you look at Nemuno. All the simplicity of a scolded child is mingled in the face she makes, her pursed lips and wide eyes dissolving any feeling of aggrievement. You feel yourself blush.

Your ears slouch. “Ah, no, it’s… erm, it’s not a big deal. I was just a little surprised.”

Your eyes meet. Nemuno’s frown melts into a softer smile.

“Well, then, if there’s anything lil’ ol’ Nemuno can do for ya…” Her eyes fall down between your legs. Your bulge hasn’t gone anywhere and looks ready for some more attention. Looking at the way Nemuno’s biting her lip, she’s ready to give it, too.

Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips. There’s a sparkle in her eye that says she’s about ready to pounce if you don’t tell her something soon.

[ ] If you remember correctly, soaplands are all about what the bath. That sounds like a better place to start.
[ ] Not that you have any experience to speak from, but isn’t a kiss a more normal way to start things off?
[ ] Your eyes can’t help wandering, and you can’t help wondering what she looks like with fewer clothes.
[ ] You’ve already felt how soft she is being pressed against her. Surely, she’d have no problem letting your hands play and roam, right?
[ ] Considering this is an entirely new game for you, maybe she has some ideas for what to do?



Pardon the delay. My main story had me tied-up, plus I got a bit fancy in trying to make a setting. Expect more sexiness from this choice on. Plus, I'll be attempting to write it a bit quicker.

Well, I'm obviously not going to update every single day. All I'm doing is having a little fun and push myself just a smidge. Keeps writing fresh, y'know?
>> No. 38357
[x] You’ve already felt how soft she is being pressed against her. Surely, she’d have no problem letting your hands play and roam, right?

Squeeze those titties like the cherry boy you are
>> No. 38358
[z] You’ve already felt how soft she is being pressed against her. Surely, she’d have no problem letting your hands play and roam, right?
>> No. 38359
Okay, tired of waiting, so I'm calling it here.

The feeling up option wins.
>> No. 38379
File 15107994808.jpg - (180.57KB, 450x600, unleash the tiddy.jpg) [iqdb]
[x] You’ve already felt how soft she is being pressed against her. Surely, she’d have no problem letting your hands play and roam, right?

On one hand, you’ve got this massive woman — Nemuno, if your panicked brain is reliable — crawling all over you, ready to do so many unimaginable things, leaving you feeling cornered. No matter how big a smile she puts on, the memory of the cleaver left at the door does nothing to relieve doubts of how harmless she is.

However, there is another strain of thought poking out from just below the surface: You’re the customer here. You paid good money for good service. What good is it, then, to be cowering from her? If anything, Nemuno should be pliantly accepting of whatever you do. It’s only proper, after all.

Emboldened, you sit up, your ears pointed straight, looking straight at Nemuno. Something that sticks out at you, now that you’re getting a good look at her, is that there’s a big red flower in her hair. The other thing is that the pale, near-transparent skin of her chest draws your eye.

Breasts were a curious subject for you. In your anecdotal experience, men of all age ranges harbour some latent affection for them. The idea seemed ridiculous to you for the longest time. What are breasts, after all, if not simply an infant’s meal? To your mind, grown men would do better to leave the natal longing for their mother’s bosom behind.

And yet there they linger in your sight, held aloft in their yellow bikini bindings, more tantalising based on what you can’t see than what you can. Their plumpness appeals to your wolfish instincts, making your fangs itch.

Your hands reach out before you can even question what you’re doing. They hover over Nemuno’s breasts, trembling slightly, hesitant to close the distance. Nemuno herself merely watches with the same gentle smile, offering no resistance to your advances. As she shouldn’t, you tell yourself.

Throwing off your hesitation, you lean forward and let your hands reach all the way to Nemuno’s chest. Warmth envelops your palms through the fabric as they press into both supple breasts. A quiet hum floats from Nemuno, the lilt of her voice sounding pleased at this development.

“Found somethin’ ya like?” she asks with a soft chuckle.

Having found their base, your fingers loosen and spread out, sinking into the tender flesh. Just the slightest resistance pushes against them as they probe deeper.

You swallow. Caught between amazement and nervousness, your breathing is more like shallow panting. “Yeah.”

Nemuno’s arms wrapping around you interrupts you from getting any further. You’re hefted off the bed for a brief second and dropped in her lap, planted right where you have easy access to her chest. You lean against her to take in more of her warm softness. How such a solidly-built woman feels so soft, you don’t know, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Her hands don’t stay idle long, snaking back into your robe and around to your lower back. Between the feeling of her hands rubbing your back and the smell of coconut on her skin, any previous tension is forgotten quickly.

Sighing contentedly, you lay your head on her collar and grasp her left breast. The depth your fingers sink is mesmerising. Experimentally, you slip your hand to the underside, hefting her breast up, admiring its weight on your hand. You let it fall back down with a soft ‘pap’ on your palm before squeezing it again, harder this time.

With a sharp breath, Nemuno grunts. One hand retreats out of your robe to stop your rough handling of her breast.

“Not like that, sweetie. Goodness, yer momma would’ve had a time with ya if’n ya sqwoozled her like that.” Even if she’s chiding you, Nemuno sounds more amused than irked.

She repositions your hand to the side of her chest, your palm flush with her breast. You almost close your fingers without thinking, but she pries them back open firmly. Instead of groping at it, she presses your hand down and guides it around her breast in a circle, giving another pleased hum from your touch.


“Y-Yeah,” you splutter, overwhelmed by the feeling of her hand and her breast combined.

“And while we’re at it, lemme show ya another trick.” She leaves your left hand to deal with rubbing her breast and returns to your robe. Her other arm pulls out at the same, grabbing your idle hand and pulling it to her hip, right where the frills of her sarong start.

Following her example, you let your hand explore around her hip, caressing every inch of skin your palm can feel. She hums and answers your stroking with her own. Having someone’s hands in such unfamiliar places causes you tingles that are almost too intense and yet addicting. The faint sounds of your breathing mingle together as you both let your hands wander.

“It feels… good,” you mumble. Your tail raises in response to her hands massaging just above your hind-end.

Nemuno gives a happy squeak and leans down to your ear. “Ya wanna feel even better?”


“Then, do me a favour an’ lift yer arms, honey.”

Having to retreat from her breast is disappointing, but you obey and raise your arms. In quick succession, she pulls off your outer robe and then your undershirt, tossing them on the bed next to you. A touch embarrassed having your flimsy, post-lean-years body exposed, your ears sag. She runs an appreciative paw over your chest.

“Now, lean back a lil’,” she instructs you. Her eyes are trained right on your bulge again.

You hesitate a little but do as she says, bending back while leaving your hips thrust forward. She slips the hand on your chest downward, running all the way past your belly, and grabs your belt-knot. She has to tug a bit before it gives and falls loose. Your trousers immediately slip down your waist where your boxers are visible.

Nemuno giggles. “Here we go.”

She slips a finger under the waistband of your boxers. Tugging gently, they pull away from your body, giving her full view of your equipment. Self-consciously, your tail curls around in an attempt to block the view.

Paying no mind to your embarrassment, Nemuno’s other hand reaches right in, scooping your package up in her palm. A shiver runs through you, a soft moan coming out along with it. She carefully rolls your vulnerable goods in her hand, appraising them closely. While you don’t think it’s a particularly impressive sight, she bites her lip, humming happily. Her fingers drift up to your twitching length, wrapping around it with room to spare.

“Betcha’ve been wantin’ this, right?” she asks, her tongue poking out from between her lips.

“Oh, Tenma, yes!” you groan.

Your hips can hardly contain themselves, grinding Nemuno’s hand with no other purpose than seeking more pleasure. With a chuckle, she indulges your unspoken request with a soft jerk of her hand, rolling the skin over the reddened tip. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve managed on your own.

However, it stops just as soon as it starts. Nemuno lets go of your boxers and your length, scratching her head with a sheepish grin on her face.

“Y’know, I just remembered, I prolly should’a asked ‘fore just reachin’ in.”

Coming out of the haze of tingles, you shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I was, um… completely fine with it.”

“Yeah, but,” Nemuno says, tossing her hair, “still, it’s up to you, wolfie. Ya wanna get off now, or do ya wanna wait?” She nods in the direction of the bath, where a stool is set up in front of the shower head. “I kin give ya a good scrub ‘n a lil’ extra.”

She caresses your equipment through your boxers and winks at you. “’course, I kin give ya a bit of the same without the scrub, too. Yer call.”

[ ] Finish now before moving on.
[ ] Hold out to see what she’ll do.


It took me way too long to get this much out. I blame it on my original first draft being like three times the length.

Also, this update is presented without the benefit of editing, so sorry about any quality issues.
>> No. 38380
[x] Hold out to see what she’ll do.

she's fun
>> No. 38381
[X] Hold out to see what she’ll do.

>> No. 38382
[X] Hold out to see what she’ll do.
hags are the best
>> No. 38383
Alright, calling it good there. The unanimous winner is [X] Hold out to see what she’ll do.
>> No. 38434
File 151421513368.png - (745.52KB, 810x1034, i wanted santa nemuno but alas.png) [iqdb]
Everything around you is a blurred mess of noise and light. Your head is pulled back to where you're staring up at the ceiling, unable to see any but. You'd sit up, but the big, strong hand on your stomach refuses to budge. More than that, your nether-regions are on fire.

You strain to lean up enough to actually see Nemuno in action. The blurriness in your eyes only lets you catch sight of the red cap she's got on, the white puffball swinging with every bob of her head. Noticing that you're looking now, she switches angles to look back. Now you can see every inch of you slipping through her lips, leaving a bulge in her cheek, every movement accompanied with a slurping noise that both entices you and drives you mad. She gives a muffled laugh before popping her lips off.

"Somethin' wrong, sweetie?" she asks with a toss of her silvery hair.

The lack of Nemuno's mouth around your length leaves a cold, lonely feeling downstairs. You look back up at the ceiling, suddenly unable to articulate much of anything. "No, I was just, um..."

"Ohhh, I getcha. Yer wantin' ta open yer other present early." She reaches up to grab you by your chin, wagging a finger at you. Her other hand caresses your stomach. "Didn'cher momma tell you ta appreciate what people give ya?"

"Well, yes, but that's not what--"

Without any warning, Nemuno shoves you up against the wall, leaving you sitting up partway. She licks her lips, giving your equipment an appreciative jerk, making you groan.

"Now, sit there an' watch ol' Nemuno work."

She allows you no time to rest before taking you in again. The return to the warmth and wetness of her mouth makes your ears stand straight up. Your toes curl and your hands grip the sheets.

You'll admit you weren't a fan of the red-and-white outfit at first, but seeing the pale skin of her backside, held in the air, poking out from under the furry trim of her skirt, gives you a new appreciation. Not to mention those soft, mochi-like pillows barely restrained by the top.

Not content to just suck on you, you feel her tongue swirling around the tip. She grips your thighs and repositions herself. Already attacking you savagely, she picks up the intensity, the renewed vigour leaving you breathless. The vibrations of Nemuno's soft moaning tickle you. She seems fully intent on wringing you out.

You clench your stomach and try to desperately hold on. However, there's no fighting the wave of pleasure climbing through you.

"Ah, Nemuno!"

Your cry of ecstasy is encouragement to her ears, prompting her to forsake your thighs for running her hands up your stomach and to your nipples. Her eyes are open and staring straight into you, a melting look of admiration and affection. It's the look of a woman longing for more of you. Her mouth begs for a deeper taste, clinging to you from tip to base, her tongue running in frantic laps.

The killing blow is when she cups your sensitive jewels. Too overloaded, your body can't stand up to the hag's mouth anymore and you release. Gasping for breath, you throw your head back, your vision going white-hot.

After the initial burst, several smaller pops follow. Nemuno's tongue slows but keeps lapping at you in search of your taste, heedless of how sensitive you are. Slurping loudly, she continues to wring you out. Your tail thumps softly on the bed as your seemingly endless climax plays out drop-by-drop.

Satisfied that you've finished, Nemuno finally pulls her head away with a loud gulping noise and a gasp of satisfaction. She rests her head on your thigh, nuzzling your flaccidness with her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"M-Merry Christmas."


Brought to you with no editing, written in thirty or forty minutes. Pardon the delays on this and my main story. I recently got a job that requires a massive schedule shift, and boy is my body rebelling. Anyway, tis the season. Merry Dicksmas, one and all.
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