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File 121363882714.jpg - (265.24KB, 430x807, 37ix.jpg) [iqdb]
Estabilishing connection...
DATA LINK estabilished
Accessing genetic memory databank...
Commencing advanced decypheration processes
Starting visual transmission in

With a sigh, you put down the pen. Before you, an endless wall of mostly illegible characters spreads on the white, lined surface of multiple notebooks.
Math. Oh, how you hate math.

It's been 4 days since you have returned from Gensokyo. Altough the work that you found isn't too tiring (as long as there aren't too many people to teach), the stuff at University... Yeah, those few days of absence made you fall back in material pretty far. At some point, you even considered dropping out, but Renko's harsh lecture about the necessity of education made you reconsider working your ass off to catch up. Renko, Renko...

Leaning back in this messy room, you let your thoughts run loose.
Yeah, Renko. Ever since your return she's been a little bit... Distant. Kind of... Left out.
Your and Mary's continuous efforts to cheer her up and convince her to spent more time with you fell on barren earth. As if she was...
Maybe it's because you and Mary have become too close to each other? After that one 'incident' back at the Shrine, the two of you would sometimes hang out together. Maybe Renko feels the same as Mary did when she was left out?
Left out.
Yeah, that has to be it.
But... How to convince that stubborn girl to get closer to you?
"Argghhh!" Rolling around the floor in irritation, you scratch your head. "Complicated! Renko, you're complicated!"

Ding, ding.

A sound of doorbell interrupts your reverie.
... it's already dark outside, so who could that be...?

[ ] Answer the door
[ ] Nah, if it's urgent, they'll come in through the window
[X] Nah, if it's urgent, they'll come in through the window
Hahaha, why not
[x] Answer the door
[x] Answer the door
Someone's at the door. It could be...
[X] Nah, if it's urgent, they'll come in through the window

I can't argue with this logic!
[X] Nah, if it's urgent, they'll come in through the window

This choice, it was made fo me.
[x] Answer the door
[x] Answer the door
[X] Nah, if it's urgent, they'll come in through the window

The Window was made for this.
[x] Answer the door

File 121364142893.gif - (31.53KB, 600x600, 37iy.gif) [iqdb]
[X] Nah, if it's urgent, they'll come in through the window

"Nah." you mutter to yourself.
You're way too tired to answer the door. Hell, even if you weren't, you'd probably not go anyway. A visit this late can't mean anything good.
You've got an urgent problem to solve in your thoughts. Renko. Yeah, her.
This can't go on forever. If it keeps up like this, it's going to be bad. Didn't you yourself say that you love them both? Then why is it that she makes it so hard for you? That tsundere tomboy...
Hell, even after you've gotten so close to her, back in the shrine... Even after you've seen her naked chest...
You exclaim as you realize that you've started thinking about those little, but cute tits. Her soft skin. Her pink nipples.
The ringing ceases. Good grief.
Frantically standing up, you direct your steps to the bathroom. Cold water is what you need. Those breasts won't simply disappear from your mind just by sitting there. And you've got some more catching up to do.

With wet hair, you return to your spot in the living room. Sitting down, you grab the pen and spin it in the air.
"Alright, let's get on--"
A loud groan from behind you interrupts your exclamation.
"What the..."

Turning around, you are greeted with a... weird sight.
Sitting on the floor, massagin her butt, dressed in black shorts and black shirt with a white t-shirt underneath, is Renko. In her other hand, a book and a plastic bag with something inside.
Looking at you, she pouts.
"Why do you always have to make people do unnecessary things... Wait a moment. Why is your hair wet?"
Not caring about the greetings, you anser her question with arms crossed on your chest.
"Does that really bother you? More importantly, what the hell are you doing?"
She stands up and dusts off her clothes. The things inside the bag jingle as she moves.
"Well," she finally says, putting her hand on her hip "I rang at the door, but you were too lazy to open it. So I came in throught the window."
"Ren... This is first floor... How did you climb up here?
"Oh, that's simple. There's a gutter just outside this window. I used it to climb here."
"You're a crazy coconut, Ren."
She flashes you a grin before moving on to sit at your table.
The noisy baggage gets put on top of it. Now you're quite sure those are bottles of some sort.
"So, I heard you're good at math." She blatantly says while setting her book on the table. "Teach me. I can't understand zilch of this trash."
"Great." you palm your face "And I just finished doing the excersises..."
"Hey, don't be so relucant! It won't take long! Besides," she reaches into the bag and takes out a bottle "I've got something to make it more entertaining!" Without waiting for your agreement, she opens the bottle and takes a few sips. "Ahhh. That's better. So, what say you? I've got enough for the both of us."
She stares at you in anticipation.

[ ] Drink
[ ] Don't drink
[ ] "Alright, I guess I can help you. What's the problem?"
[ ] "/kick NPC_TS03_Renko"
{X} Drink.
Drunk Renko, yay~
>She stares at you in anticipation.

[x] Don't drink
I live to thwart you, Ren.
Ren Is Like Alcohol, so

[x] Drink
[x] Drink
[x] Walk up to girls, stay silent
He already had the beers, lots of them.

[X] Drink
[x] Drink

"Your bribe offer..." you return the playful stare "Has been eagerly accepted. Gimme that booze."
With a smile, she passes you one of the bottles. You can't be bothered with reading the label. Whatever it is, Renko wouldn't buy anything of poor quality, right?
"Of course," Renko speaks up as you open the bottle "That means you WILL help me with this stuff, right?"
"Math? Well, maybe. Depends."
She mantains her playful expression while you down half of the bottle in one batch.
Slamming down the bottle on the table, you let out a satisfied sigh.
"Whee, it's strong. What is it?"
"Oh, just the usual stuff I drink. Do you like it?"
"It's a little sour, for my tastes, but good nontheless."
She smiles. Settling back on her chair, she opens the book she brought and runs her eye over the contents.
"So," she speaks up after finding what she seemingly was looking for "I have problem with this--"
"HOLD IT!" you interrupt her, raising your hand in the air "Not just for a minute, hold it! I've never agreed to help you!"
"What?" she frowns
"Look, I know this beer is practically my pay for teaching you, but I can't allow it!"
"Eh? But--"
"Silence! I can't allow drinking without a toast!"
"Oooh!" her face lightens up "That! You're right!"
Oh, wow. Just at the mention of that, she really cheered up. Hm. Could it be that she's drunk some of this stuff before she came here? That would explain her light-hearted behaviour.
Well, but it doesn't matter, right?
The two of you raise your bottles.
"For proletariat!" you exclaim in exalted voice
"For the agrarian utopia!" she answers
The bottles impact in the air, making a loud jingle.
And yelling that, the two of you down your bottles in a single batch.


"And afsher haat, he ghraaan out of za cave GHALF NAKED!" Renko's drunk voice breaks through the white mist covering your thoughts. It seems that she's telling you a story of sorts "Za ghirl fhollowhed him arrrrro und bhut we whodln liffen! He wush shkreamin 'SHIENCE! SHIENCE!'" Renko breaks in laugher.
It turned out that instead of teaching her math, you were just enjoying the alcohol she brough. She herself doesn't seem to be bothered by that too much though. With a red face, she sips on her bottle's contents.
"Sho... Whut abowt sghe girrl?" your drunk head sways back and forth slightly as you say that "Dissshe catch im?"
Renko shakes her head, almost falling of the chair.
"I zunno. Thas oll I heerd. Hic." She lets out a cute hiccup before putting down the bottle. "Ya noe, I shink I'm gunna shplash my fhashe wif wafer or shomfin..."
Swaying violently to all sides, she leaves the room.
For a moment you're kind of worried if she'll be alright on her own, but your drunk mind tells you to take it easy.
"Gee, ish kinda hot n heer." Saying that to yourself, you take off your shirt. Or rather, try to. Because it seems that it has decided to put on some serious resistance as a protest against not washing it every day. "Fukken shirt, lemme go!" Your fight continues on for a few minutes before the darn piece of clothing finally lets go. Throwing it aside, you notice that you're laying on the floor. "Goshdarn elves! Hello there." sitting back on your chair, you greet the small guy dressed in green that seems to be rummaging through your junk. He answers by politely touching his hat's brim "Whash a nishe fellow." Saying that to yourself, you continue to observe his efforts to lift that pink elephant which seemingly decided to take a nap on your dirty clothes. Poor guy. Oh, now they've started to fight.

A dreamy voice just behind your ear brings you back to reality. Suddenly, someone's naked arms wrap themselves around your shoulders. You can feel something soft and wet pressed against your back. Glancing back, it turns out to be Renko. Topless.
Leaning on you, she continues to purr delightely.
"Len?" you try to say her name, but your tongue fails miserably "Wash urya doinnn?"
[X] purr back.
>"Fukken shirt, lemme go!" Your fight continues on for a few minutes before the darn piece of clothing finally lets go. Throwing it aside, you notice that you're laying on the floor. "Goshdarn elves! Hello there."

Get out of my head yaf!
[X] Purr back, wait for her response.
[X] Purr back, wait for her response.

l see what you were trying to do there.
[X] Purr back, wait for her response.
[+] Breasts
Yeah, sorry about stoppin half-way through, but my H-meter has been depleted by Yukari's scene.
I should be able to finish this today.


[x] Stare at the blood on your finger, uneasily.

>I should be able to finish this today.

Oh ho..

So, you H-meter recharged yet? Or are you depleting it now with the Yuuka H-scene?

RAWR!!! There needs to be more Renko! And Wriggle! Great if BOTH!!

so random XD
*holds up spork*
[X] Purr back, wait for her response.
I want to see Renko missing scene. get on with it, YAF !!
Yaffy-san, hey Yaffy-san!
Are you ever going to finish this?
I've been thinking about doing it if you aren't going to, but I don't want to step on your toes.

I am, but go ahead. It will either motivate me to work moar or make me even lazier. So feel free to write.
Update me, please!
I'd update you, if you know what I mean.
File 122051868047.jpg - (30.07KB, 400x400, UpdateWhere.jpg) [iqdb]
Don't give up on this project, YAF.
<%YAFKYU> Damn... I was thinking about that Renko H-scene...
<%YAFKYU> And I got a good idea how to make it at least a bit special...
<Ataisai> wtf
<Ataisai> ITC YAF actually discusses Night on a Drunk Liar
<@Kapow> fairies?
<Ataisai> bullshit, lies, and delusional fantasy, I say
<+GenericDrawfag> ITC GD goes away
<%YAFKYU> But... Yeah, thanks, Atai. I was about to say that my motivation levels are very low, and you're really helping here.
<Ataisai> Oh, I am more than happy to let this fantasy continue
<Ataisai> carry on
<Ataisai> please
<Ataisai> Well
* sleepamethyst is now known as BlackAmethyst
<+GenericDrawfag> sighable
* GenericDrawfag is now known as GD|something
<%YAFKYU> I blame the weather. And air pressure.
<Ataisai> Much like your mom, GD.
<@Kapow> YAF stop being such a fucking nine
<Ataisai> assuming you're not going to drop spoilers on us. Does NoaDL have choices, or is it just what you write?
<Ataisai> wtf Kap
* fotc (~eric@Rizon-3FFF7F59.resnet.ucla.edu) Quit (Quit: Leaving.)
<%YAFKYU> I know it's nonsensical, but my depression switch is close to snapping.
<Ataisai> how come?
<%YAFKYU> Atai: it's just a single scene
<Ataisai> Life sucking?
<%YAFKYU> I'm a meteopath.

some time later

* YAF|contemplating is now known as YAFKYU
<%YAFKYU> ... I'm not gonna write that scene.
<%YAFKYU> It's just that... it looks meaningless. I wouldn't be writing it for myself, but for anons, and what point is there in writing something for an almost inexistant readerbase? Meaningless.
<%YAFKYU> It would just tire me out, and bring me no profit.
<%YAFKYU> Bah, people no longer even want to see that scene.
<%YAFKYU> Nowadays, if you want H, you go to /border/, not /shrine/. How foolish of me, to even considering continuing such a meaningless thing.
* YAFKYU is now known as YAFK
>writing something for an almost inexistant readerbase? Meaningless.

File 122282286660.jpg - (136.12KB, 552x800, colon_parenthesis.jpg) [iqdb]
>writing something for an almost inexistant readerbase? Meaningless.

If you love me, why'd you let me go?
File 122284841248.jpg - (94.50KB, 600x600, a1b1f8e35552fd8f847fa86bf1c9eb0c.jpg) [iqdb]
stop trolling and write the fucking thing already
This. We love you and you know it.

Now write, damn you.
Will I never get my Renko h-scene? No, don't answer that; I already know. T_T
File 132513729095.jpg - (196.21KB, 800x600, 159e2b90fe101c876ac11d4dd9e1565a.jpg) [iqdb]
“Am leanin’,” she tells you, her tone very serious.

That leaves very little to debate. She’s leanin’, and everyone who says otherwise is likely trying to steal your elephant. Speaking of which, you probably ought to stop that fight before somebody gets hurt. It might sound a bit unreasonable, but you’ve got this worming suspicion your pink pet is hungry, and you can clearly recall hearing once that elves can cause terrible gasses.

“Naya?” you hear a voice say, and the voice smells eighty percent alcohol fumes.

You could stick a lit match in that voice and it’d go off into the stratosphere.

The elephant makes an altogether unelephanty noise and charges the nice elf. You’re very disappointed at this development, but you keep your blues strictly contained. The blues might have been the hit in the 60s, but nowadays to let a blues off in educated company would be a faux-pas. The elf is impaled on the elephant’s tusks and dies in a great clatter of chocolate candy. The elf might actually have been a piñata. You’re drunk. At least piñatas don’t usually give people gasses.

“Naya!” the voice from before grouches again. “Will yeh lookit me at lasht er no?”
“Oh yea,” you add your own fumes into the mix, “right-on.”

Then, holding firmly to the couch so as not to fall off the floor, you swing around ponderously like a piñata at a giants’ birthday party. A thought flashes in your head that you should see what kind of candy the piñata-elf was hiding, but that thought vanishes without good-bye when your eyes regain a degree of arguable focus.

There is a breast right before your face.

Two breasts, to be exact, though there might be more lying around if you look. The problem is, you can’t for the life of you remember who left them there.

“Naah-yaah!” The breasts jiggle. You make a mental note that they’re remarkably lively for their size. “Ah tore eet!”
“Er, tore wot?” you question the breasts.
“Mah shirt, yeh tit!”

It occurs to you that it is kind of ironic for breasts to call you a tit, but you let it pass without remark. You wouldn’t want to offend the breasts; breasts make enemies to be reckoned with. Although rather than reckoning, you feel like you should give them something else. A poke, perhaps, or a squeeze; just not too strong a one. You shouldn’t puncture them. They’re flat enough as they are; they don’t need additional help.

“Aie?!” There’s a yelp. The breasts shiver and quake under your touch. “Cold! Cold, dang eet!”
“Chilled, wot?” you concur, reaching for another bottle. Then you come to a slow realisation that not only have you got just two hands, and that both are full of breast, but also that the third one which you sent for the overturned bottle was merely a construct of your exuberant imagination. You ponder the existence of third hands for a scant moment. A third hand would probably throw you off balance, though, and you nimbly forget all about having one. A third eye would be more useful, anyway. You could finally see these breasts in 3D.

Is that how it works?

“Ah, dong yeh! Shoot!”
The breasts totter away.

There is something about the word “dong” that makes you want to talk about dog sleds, but you can’t think why. A sudden enlightenment takes your mind off the Antarctic. The breasts were Renko! Or was that the other way around? It might have been upside-down, too. A lot of things seem to be tonight.

“Whey’d yeh doo dat,” she or the breasts demand, “yeh stupid SQUAWK!”

Only she doesn’t say “SQUAWK;” that was just a bird outside that had just then decided to express its endless sorrow of never finding a bird-mate to make little baby-birds with in the best bird-way he could. A squawk does have an awful ring to it, you admit inwardly.

“A lil’ cologhn’ might ‘elp,” you offer helpfully.
Renko gives you a look that is all kinds of geometrically innovative.
“Seh wot?” she slurs, confused.
“Ah, not’n,” you slur in response, “jus’ tellin’ that bird ‘bout them birds and bees and birds and all that n’syns.”

The words sounded like the most logical thing since splitting atoms in your head, but now that they’re out, you don’t want your name under them any more. You make the smart man’s choice and change the topic.

“Er, again, wot hapn’t?” you ask queasily.
Renko considers the question with a pensive sort of wobble. “Oh!” she remembers. “Ah tore me shirt!”
“Wot?” you voice your boundless understanding. “Wheh? How?”
“On yer ‘nob, there.”
You take a cursory look inside your pantaloons, but find no shirts there, torn or otherwise.
“Not en dat ‘nob!” the bare-chested girl chides. “Yeh imbeshyle!”
“Eh? Whish wun, then?”
“Th’badroom, yeh tit!”
“Bhoadroo… Bahwd… Crapf, hold oop.” She assumes an air of pure alcoholic concentration. “Bahwdroo—Bhewdroo—Behw… Shite! Bhoawdroo…”
“Batroom?” you suggest.
“Yeh!” she exclaims. “That! Badroom. Yeh, that dere ‘nob on th’dooh.”
“I din’ leeve no ‘nobs there, I dun recall.”
“Well, there wus—” she begins and breaks off. “Whai, whah?”
“I’f got me ‘nob right ‘ere,” you point at your nether parts. “Ne’er had ‘not’er wun, I dun think.”
She doesn’t appear to trust your grasp on your biology.
“Oh, ne’er ye mind,” you give up. “I says—Actual, held yet tits, I’m gon’ sheck’n’shee; mite off been ‘rong.”

You heave yourself up from the lopsided floor. Your pet elephant, startled by the sudden movement, gives off a high-pitched squeal and skitters out of the room—tripping you up on the way. You tumble forward, your three knees suddenly tied in a knot that would make a sailor grow issues.

There’s another squeal. This time it’s not the elephant.


An earful of “Yah,” you touch down atop Renko and her hillocks. A person could build a landing strip between those hillocks and the site would soon become a word-famous touch-down attraction. You can already testify to its safety. Your unruly nose slammed right into it and there’s not a crack as far as the eye can see. That’s to the very tip. That’s quite impressive.

You fight against a dozen different gravities and lift yourself up and slightly to the left. The left has ambition and quickly becomes right. Then it becomes apparent it’s a very indecisive right and it changes to left again. The left might actually be a woman.

“Oh yea,” you remember and speak to the slightly blurry Renko below, “speakin’ ef tits—”
“We wasn’,” she notices.
“Anywho,” you press on, “tits, uh? I jus’ wan’d tah’say, yers ah quah syuperb, is all. Aye?”
She knits her brows. “Seh woh?”
“Yer tits, swee’art.”
“Woh? Yeh ain’ seen’um!”
“I has, swee’art.”
“Woh? Wher?”
“Yer shir’s torn,” you remind her.
“Seh woh?”
“Shir’,” you say again. “Ye’s torn it. Cap’che?”
A spark of panic slowly mounts in her eyes. She turns them bewildered down at her bared charms.
“Aye,” you confirm, “thems, there. Can see’em all. Aye?”
Then there’s squeals again. You can’t tell whether it’s her or the elephant has found something even scarier than your intoxicated visage. Your bets are on Renko, however. There being arms flailing all about trying to cover her naked chest all the while attempting to scratch your outmost layers off is somewhat big of a tip-off. You could make millions on bets like these. You should get on it; you’ve got the knack for it, you think modestly.

“Oh yea,” you recall another thing. “Ha’e I e’er told ye ye’ve gots the bluest eyes?”
“Dey’re brown, yeh tit!” Renko cries in response to your impartial commentary. “Anyway! Queh yeh starin’!”
“Oh, right,” you say, “I wus.”
You stare.
“Queh dat!” she demands.
“Ah, naw.”
“Wheh’s meh shirt?!”
“Ye’s torn it, remem’er?”
She assumes a consternated face. “Shite!” The word sounds oddly articulate in your ears. It’s always the funniest words. You’re not in a mood to laugh, though. “Weh, dis is jus’ great,” Renny-Ren whimpers; “dong it, shite, dong it all. Jus’ great.”
“Well,” you say. “Ain’ it jus’?”
“Git yeh eff meh.”
“Ah, must I?”
“Yesh! Git eff, yeh!”
“Bu’ ‘s so comfy right ‘ere.” You lie down on her chest to drive the point home. What you didn’t see where her arms wrapped around it protectively. Arms, a commonly known fact, bony, especially if you haven’t got a hobby or happen to be female. And bony usually means hard, where hard equals pain.
You make an ugly grunt.

“Dey’re not dat comfy, uh?” Renko makes a sad-sounding comment.
“Well, no’ w’en you’s got yer arms o’er em, they’ah not.”
“Shame, uh?” she says acidly. “Mary’s got better, uh? Ah’m flat, uh? Tineh, uh? A woshboad, uh? Weh, git used teh it!”
“I’d ‘err much like to.”
She blinks. “Seh woh?”
“I says, I’d ‘err much like to.”
“Da’s not funni.”
“Wa’nt suppest to.”
“Git eff me arreadeh.”
“Git eff!”
“No’ b’fore ye lemme show ye they’re fine.”
“Ah, ye agree then, wot?” you smile.

Then, not bearing further protests, you unceremoniously pry her arms open.

She’s no match for your heroic might, and your noble efforts of knocking a girl down, forcing yourself on her and more or less stripping her half-naked are finally rewarded. There are her breasts. Slightly bleary, yes, but if you look at them closer, you can see the detail just all right. And truth be told, if you looked any closer now, their tusks would gouge out your eyes. Their tusks…

You mutter an oath and shoo the elephant away.

There you go. The breasts. As already mentioned, if you looked closer, the nipples would gouge out your eyes. You couldn’t be closer if you wished. Still, wish you do. A good compromise may be to rub your face all over them, you conclude scientifically.

“Mary’s ah biggeh, uh?” the breasts’ sulky owner insists.

That she might be right about. All the same, you’ve got your mind set on more pressing matters. The breasts, for one. They’re small, true, but not lamentably so. They’re less than a handful, somewhere between a tea platter and half an orange. A white tan-line underlines the area where her skin begins to swell and climb. The incline goes on for a few centimetres, then quite abruptly tips with a small perky nipple. A pink areola brims that angelic little nipple, and the nipple stands out in its midst like a… well, mostly like a nipple. There isn’t a very good comparison to be drawn here. The nipple is good enough on its own.

“Aye, that they ah,” you admit; “biggeh, that is, but yers a’moeh titillatin’.”
“A woh?”
You let off a covert sigh. The pun was quite hilarious in your opinion. “Well,” you tell the thick-headed girl, “they may be a tithe’ o’Mary’s, shu’e, but see this ‘ere nipple, ‘ere? ‘s real titivatin’, that.” You touch it. “Aye, real titivatin’,” you repeat, in case she didn’t get it.
She makes a sound that sounds to you rather positive, but her face seems to tell an entirely different story.
“Real titivatin’,” you poke and try again.
“Aye?” And poke. “Get it?”

She doesn’t get it.

She’s so slow, you . Some day that will come back to bite her in the behind. Then she will devote a few months of her life to study of puns, and when she’s done, she’ll return to you and puns will be mile a minute. And you’ll laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and…


… bite! That’s it! You bite!


She cries out, but that’s what people do when they experience enlightenment. You bite her again. She undergoes another drastic change of personal illumination, then smacks you across the head. The central one, not one of the auxiliary ones you feel floating all of a sudden around your ears.

“Dat hurts, yeh tit!” she complains.

That is certainly strange. The tit didn’t do anything wrong from where you were looking. A compensation is in due course, and since it’s so small and cute, the best option seems to kiss it—right there, on the nipple.


And again. A few more hits land on your scalp, but they go by largely disregarded.

“Ah… ‘ey!” Renko yelps. “Shtop it! ‘ey, shtop—ah, dong yeh, tit!”

She’s awfully critical of tits today, you observe.

She stops hitting you and does her best to crawl away instead, but it is as they say: once a sucker, always a sucker, and suck on you do, undaunted by the floor shifting under you like tides. She stop when her back encounters another floor. A floor that is, for some inexpressible reason, other colour and vertical, but the oddity glances off both of your heads with a resounding “glance!”

There aren’t many sounds a glance can make.

“Ah… Um… Ahn… Shtop yeh… Ah say…”

She squeezes her knees together.

That, naturally, is quite unhealthy, so you reach down and part them, giving it your best to appear firm about it.

“An… Ahn…”

She breathes in and out, in and out, and each breath is a gust of hot wind in your hair. She takes a hold of your head and shoves you away, but she gets the directions all wrong and ends up pressing you harder against her breasts instead. She’s such a silly girl sometimes.

The elephant observes all of that with a somewhat worried expression on its pink elephant-face. You give it a glare that spells death and it scoots away. Alone at last. And now that the children are gone, you can get down to the main stage, begin the main event, kick-start the premier party and a number of other uncreative metaphors.

Zip is your word, and zip you her fly down. Then you take the plunge. A literal one, not the one that means getting married, buying a house in the countryside and having a horde of noisome offspring. The plunge here leads down, into her cute, lace-trimmed undies. The undead would be proud of their namesake. And the gasp that Renko lets out when you touch her down-there could just stop their hearts again.

“Ah… Puh... Puhlease…” she moans.

You know where she’s the weakest. You don’t meander around. You go for the kill.


This is it. This is the point of no return. You roll off of her and pull your own pants off.

Renko stares helplessly, eyes just a shade glazed over, at your rock-hard Pillar of Nosgoth. The Pillar swells and twitches at the stare. A new epoch has its beginning in your mind, and the epoch screams in lust. The future generations will likely look back at the epoch and ask: were there even any other epochs before? And then you’ll stand up and tell them: “No.” They’ll look at you like you’re mad, but at the end of the day they’ll likely go home thinking: whatever, that epoch sounds interesting enough anyway.

And equally interesting is the sound Renko makes when you lift her by the sides, sit down, and arrange her, her back towards you, directly above your raging Pillar.

“Aheyeh?” comes close. “Naya?” she questions. “Yeh… goin’…?”
“Seems so, no?”

Your words are sober, but the rest of you is everything but.

And then you let her fall.

Onto your waiting erection. Your entire body trembles when it drives deep into her, from tip to the very root. An intoxicating warmth wraps all around it and seeps even further down. The sensation very nearly drowns out Ren’s own spasms.

And spasm she does.

“Ah.. Ah..” she gropes to catch a breath, but she can’t. “Ah… Nay… Nayah…”

She tries to settle against your chest, but all that does is provoke another wave of shivers. She raises her arms and crosses them behind your head, gasping still. The skin of her breast stretches pleasantly.

“Nayah…” she whispers your name.
“Well then,” you tweet in her ear. “Shall we go?”

“Ah” is all she says.

“Ah” is close enough to “yes,” you elect. Then you pick her up and let her drop again.


She squirms.

You lift her again. She comes down with a wet sound. And she moans.

“Ah!” And again. “Ah!” And again. “Ah!”

She tightens around you each time you grasp her under her arms and slide out of her. Then she falls and her tensed flesh fights your member, gripping, pushing, but ultimately gives up and lets you all the way in.

As you work at her, her legs throw around, trying to wriggle out of her leggings. She kicks, but whenever she’s about to get a good kick off, you enter her again, making her start and lose all progress.

“Naya… Naya… Naya…!”

The sound of her voice brings you to new heights of ecstasy. Your mind, hazed already by alcohol, becomes as though wrapped by a thick white blanket.

You grab Renko by her waist and stand up. She squeals, but you have none of it. You’re too far gone to back out now. Grunting with both effort and pleasure, you force her against the window she climbed through at the start of the evening.

“Ah! Ah, cold!” she whines.

You ram into her again and her breasts press flat against the glass.

“Ah! Naya! Ahn! People—! Ah! Might! Aie?!”

The wooden window-frame creaks dangerously when you speed your pace. She says something about people again, but to be perfectly honest, you’ve got people up a dark place even you have never seen yourself. You’re too busy being inside of her. Smashing. Pounding without respite. Splashing love juices around the floor without care in the world.

She jumps to her tip-toes with each stroke. The window squeals along with her.

You go faster.

And faster.


And more.

And then the tight string of control inside you snaps.

You slip out of the gasping girl and fall to your knees. She takes a few flaccid steps and joins beside you, as you, wheezing, wheezing and dripping. The world, the narrow room, the walls and the ceiling, the furniture – all is tinted filmy white in your eyes. Your mind, too, puffs with clouds of white-hot steam. Your Pillar, the great Pillar of Nosgoth, of whom tales such as will last for centuries to come are already in making, limps and settles down for a well-deserved eon of rest. The tremor of its collapse shakes your very foundations and robs your arms of all strength,

You founder, lose your precious verticality and crumple to the floor, numb and exhausted.

Crawling, pulling herself along by scraps of will, Renko comes and rests her feverish head on your shoulder.

She can’t regain control of her voice. “Ah…” she struggles. “Ah… Na… Naya…”

Apparently, however, it was not a very important thing she wanted to tell you, because she goes for a kiss instead. Or maybe that was the important thing. She kisses you weakly, then sinks to your shoulder again, breathing with audible difficulty. You do, too.

The pint-sized elephant, the nosey pink thing, appears somehow right at your side and jabs you curiously in the arm with one pointed tusk.

“Oh bother,” you mumble. “C’mere.”

You reach out, intent on giving the troublesome pet a friendly pat between the pink floppy ears, but as touch it, your hand passes right through, and the elephant disappears in a poof of delicious candy. You stare wide-eyed at the place where it was standing just moments before, then at your elephant-vanquishing hand. This is not possible.

The elephant was a piñata all along!

“Holy shiet.”

This is one crazy world you live in. And you fooled yourself the one inside the border was jacked-up to the jacked-up limit.

“Naya?” Renko mumbles quietly in your ear. “Whas ‘rong?”
“Ah,” you tell her, “no, not’n. All be well.”

You decide that she deserves the pat more anyway.

She chuckles girlishly when you ruffle her short hair, and promptly sinks into sleep. The breasts that were responsible for effecting this entire situation sail back and forth gently, along with her soft, slow-paced breaths.

Well, piñatas or not, your life seems about to become much more colourful from now on.
Holy shit.
More revivals from TS? Yes, please~

This was awesome - glad you're returning to your roots.
hell yes
This was glorious.
Also glad to see it finally finished(?), up for some more revivals like this?
File 132528775460.jpg - (59.17KB, 400x579, d25d1c130cec266b186f77ada3dab2be.jpg) [iqdb]
Go take a look in /shorts/ if you haven't already.

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