Chapter 108.

Chapter 108. Halfway through Winter Break. (3/3)

“It’s nothing. Please ignore it.” I admit it, I was attracted to her physically, okay? I’d typically been able to control it around Rosa, but she wasn’t wrong about the sort of situation we were in. Diverting my focus away from controlling my body to the possibility that someone might come in and see us like this at any moment had yielded this result.

She whispered, “With how calm you usually are when I’m doing my best to get a reaction out of you, I actually started to worry that you didn’t find me physically attractive, you know. That maybe you were only physically attracted to Irene.”

Well, I usually think of her the way a normal adult would, her still being too young for that sort of thing. But it’s become harder and harder for me to keep forcing that sort of image on her. From the moment she saved me back on the roof that night and especially after I proposed to her. She was not just something as simple as my girlfriend anymore… she was both my life savior and my fiancé now. I had to look at her seriously.

“I’m using a coupon right now. The coupon that makes you stay still, don’t move, and not say a word.”

She pulled out the coupon book from her back pants pocket and handed it over to me.

“There’s a time and place for this sort of thing.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cross that line or anything… yet. I just want to give you a hand since I made it this way. Also, be good and stay quiet unless you want to give me a special coupon.”

Her hand slid under the bed sheet between her legs.

I was currently in a hospital gown, so she had easy access just by pulling it up. She repositioned herself on top of my body while she pulled the bedsheet down. She seated herself down on top of my thighs. Her legs were spread forming a Y shape over me. She was holding onto my manhood with her right hand, looking down at it lovingly, while gently stroking it.

Her left hand under my gown rested on my abdomen as she leaned and arched her body forward over her right hand while she stared down my urethra with glazed over.

“I give you permission to talk only to answer my questions. Does it feel good?” She asked.

It was naturally her first time doing this sort of thing.

“A bit higher around the head.” I decided to help her out since she seemed genuinely curious about what felt good.

“Here?” Her thumb and index finger formed an ok sign as they wrapped around the head with her remaining fingers bent backward.

“Yeah. Right there.” Whenever her smooth fingers came into contact with the back or rim around the head, there was an immensely pleasurable sensation.

She gradually started to change her grip. She completely covered it with her palm. She pulled it up away from the head while allowing her thumb to caress the underside of the head. It provided a different sort of stimulus which was extremely pleasant. Whenever her palm slammed back down against the urethra it simulated the sensation one felt when hitting the back of the womb.

She was getting really good.

Eventually, she used just her index finger to lightly brush against the rim in a circular fashion. 

Was she some sort of handjob prodigy? All I had to tell her was the head and she figured out these techniques on her own?

“Have you actually done this with other guys before and are just acting like you’re clueless?” I couldn’t help but break my silence and ask.

“No, this is really my first time doing this sort of thing. Does it feel that good when I do this?”

“Too good.”

“Hmmm~ that’s good to hear. I’ll let the way you talked without permission just now slide since I’m in a good mood~ be grateful, okay~”

“What if I do this?”

She curled her hand around the head and inserted her fingernail into my urethra. When I remembered how sharp her nails were I panicked.

“Don’t worry about my nail, I’m being very careful~ just don’t move or it might get a bit messy, okay~”

The sort of danger implied by her words provided a sort of stimulation in its own way.

She carefully removed her fingernail and a sticky transparent fluid was connected to it. She licked it off her fingernail before she moved her index finger to block the entrance of my urethra. She gently moved her index finger over the opening and stroked vertically while she placed her thumb under the head and caressed it lovingly along the shaft. It was a deadly pincer attack.

With the tingling sensation riding up the shaft, I was quickly approaching the limit of what I could take. My breathing picked up a bit as I approached ever closer to reaching my climactic finish.

I relaxed the muscles in my body and looked into her eyes.

“Are you about to cum?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there.”

“Would you be mad if I stopped here?”

“Probably.”

“Heheh. Good, then I won't stop. I want to see exactly how you shoot everything out.”

She switched her thumb from moving vertically to horizontally across the underside of the head for a bit. Just as I was on the verge of climaxing, she removed her hand. 

I thought she was messing with me at first, but she’d raised her left hand off my abdomen. She repositioned her left palm on the top of the shaft and her right hand on the underside. She formed a sort of makeshift cavity with it as she curled both her palms to enclose the shaft. After the head at the end of the shaft grinded up against the flat part of her palm and inevitably hit the back a few times, I couldn’t hold back anymore. The muscles in my body violently contracted and convulsed all at once. 

As a guy, you’d naturally try all sorts of different techniques, but the one she just used wasn’t one you could perform on your own. It was just physically impossible for your arms to stretch out far enough to replicate it properly. It required another person. So this was the first time I’d felt that sort of sensation from someone just using their hand.

She didn’t shy away from the semen spurting out onto the palm of her hand. She just held her hand in place and allowed me to shoot everything out onto it. She simply watched it slide down her fingers and the shaft with a satisfied smile as though she took great pride in every individual throbbing pulsation she felt between her hands.

“Well, this time I just wanted to see how it looked and feel it as it shot out, but next time I’ll make sure to get a good taste while I’m at it when you’re shooting it all out, okay? So please do look forward to that.”

When the object she trapped between her hands became docile, she pulled her hands away. She carefully examined the sticky white substance on her palm and played with it between her fingers.

“So this is a guy’s semen? It’s hot, thick, and sticky. I wonder what it feels like when you shoot it out directly inside.”

She grabbed a tissue from the side of the bed and cleaned up my lower body, but she didn’t wipe her hands clean. She just kept playing with the white substance like she found it interesting.

“You should really wash your hands,” I told her.

“Why?” She seemingly held no aversion to it at all.

“Don’t you think it’s gross?”

“It's proof I made my boyfriend feel good. What’s gross about that?”

“I doubt most girls would think the same.”

“Who cares what other girls think?”

“Do not walk around with that on your hands.”

“Well, I wouldn’t do that. I’d definitely get strange looks from everyone if I did.”

“Good. At least you’re aware of that much. But please just wash your hands now.”

“Haaaah. Fine.” She had a somewhat sorrowful look on her face like she found it to be a great waste. It was as if she’d been told to throw away her spoils of war after she’d only just received them.

“It’s embarrassing if you put on an expression like that. Please don’t.”

“But I worked so hard and I’m being told to get rid of it.”

“It’s not like it’s some scarce commodity that you can’t get your hands on again.”

“I suppose that’s true. I can just squeeze some more out if I want again. As your fiancée, I have that right after all.”

That’s something she has a right to do? Since when? I’ve never heard of such an absurd right before. Is it an unspoken or unwritten one or something?

While I internally toiled over her alleged ‘right,’ Rosa took the opportunity to wash her hands in the sink of the small washroom inside my room. I took the opportunity to fix the hospital gown I had on and I covered my body up with the bedsheet. My lower body which Rosa had treated like some sort of new toy had calmed down by now as well.

Rosa stayed for a while and we chatted until it was time for visitors to leave. I’d be allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow morning, but I’d need to return every few days to have a doctor check on my hand. With how I wasn’t legally of age to work yet, I couldn’t ask for a note to provide to my workplace though. It also wouldn’t have allowed me to get paid. The injury wasn’t at the workplace, so they weren’t liable. Also, I wasn’t employed on the record officially, so I didn’t have any benefits.

I’d still have to go to work even with my injury, so I intended to keep it hidden from everyone. If asked, I’d just say my hand was scratched by a cat and I’d leave it wrapped up when in front of others.

When morning came the following day, I was discharged from the hospital. Rosa met up with me and we rode the bus together back to Irene’s place.

When I checked my phone on the bus, I noticed a new name in my contact list.

Soria Scarletyse.

It appeared Rosa’s mother’s first name was Soria. I hadn’t found out in our first meeting. It was a nice-sounding name that I felt suited her somehow. Maybe it was because she was always saying sorry. 

I didn’t recognize the origin of the name though. I was a bit curious, so I searched it up online. The first result said it was a name from a certain country that meant ‘Haven, or way to Heaven.’ I thought it was a rather poetic name for an assassin. I didn’t know whether her mother was from there or if she was named because her parents liked the meaning of the name. Maybe they’d just thought of it at random, looked it up, discovered it had this sort of meaning the way I had and went with it.

When I checked the text that she’d sent to herself from my phone, she’d sent a screenshot rather than a simple text message.

It was a screenshot of her daughter’s contact page. The most embarrassing one on my phone.

‘♡♡♡MY GIRLFRIEND♡♡♡’

I want to find a hole to bury my head in. What’s with her? It’s embarrassing, please don’t take a screenshot of it and send it to yourself.

I sent her a message, ‘Please permanently delete that screenshot from everywhere you have it saved.’ She didn’t reply. I figured she was a busy woman, so I put my phone away and forgot about it for the time being.

When we arrived at Irene’s place, she greeted me with a worried look and asked, “Are you feeling better now? I’m really sorry, I sort of become a different person on Boxing Day and forget about everything else.”

“It’s fine. I just don’t have much stamina. I tend to get fevers when I overexert myself too much. I rested all of Sunday and I’m feeling much better.”

“But that bandage wrapped around your hand. Did something happen?”

“I got scratched by a cat. Animals don’t like me very much. I used to get barked at by dogs and chased down by them all the time when I was younger. Cats always hissed at me and ran away in the past. The fact that it didn’t run away and scratched me instead seems to be an improvement. At least they’re willing to touch me now I guess.”

“What a pitiful child. I won’t scratch you, okay?”

“You’re not a cat.”

“I’m a cougar though.” When she whispered that so seriously, I nearly choked on my own saliva. I walked right into that one.

“Can you please not make such strange jokes?”

“Fine~ I’ll save such jokes for a more appropriate time and place~” In bed, was what she implied with her eyes closed and her right hand on her cheek as she tilted her head to one side.

I brushed past her on the way in and couldn’t help but notice her body relax when I entered. Perhaps she’d been anxious that she’d scared me off or something with how she dragged me everywhere on Boxing Day.

After that, everyone gathered together in the living room and all played video games together.

The day ended without anything else significant to note. This time, this time for sure I’d have some more time to relax.

That's what I prayed for deep down in my heart.

Screw you death flags! I’m not scared of you! I’ll think whatever I want to! I won’t be controlled by such irrational nonsense like a death flag! If I ever see a death flag I’m going to punch it.