The Danger of Komachi Points – All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! Omake – Chapter 3

Seeing how popular the harem genre is, one would expect to glean from it some kind of insight into one of the key differences of a harem over monogamous relationships, that is: harem management. But that’s, of course, and like almost everything that relates to applying the harem genre’s lessons to real life, a vain hope.

Mostly, there are two harem management schools: the classic and the modern. The modern school is a trend that has emerged from the ever-growing herd of edgelords, I mean, dark and angsty, I mean, realistic protagonists who gather their harem not by being mildly kind and somewhat decent human beings, but by swinging their metaphorical (at least, often metaphorical) dicks around so hard that the future Stockholm Syndrome’s victims get violently stunned by them so he can drag them back to his base of operations. It’s usually a staple of power fantasy, self-insert isekai protagonists, and the girls thus gathered are usually as bland as the main character himself, which nicely subverts the traditional expectations of multi-route eroge that has trained otakus everywhere to expect every heroine to have an interesting story and character that somewhat compensates for the blank slate they usually end up getting it on with. This style of harem management is, for obvious reasons, not available to me—mostly because Shizu, Iroha, and Komachi are definitely not the type to be so easily swayed by displays of supernatural might, and also because I am, contrary to Zaimokuza’s expectations, woefully lacking in the supernatural might department.

The classic school of harem management, the one that trained such masters as Keitarou Urashima, basically teaches its members to ignore the problem until it goes away.

It is very appealing.

In this school, the practitioner is initiated into the ancient mysteries of Not Behaving Like an Obvious Asshole, Showing Occasional Kindness That Is Enhanced By Mirroring a Dramatic Flashback, and, most importantly, and the fundamental pillar of the school, Have a Skull Whose Denseness Defies the Heavens. That last one is useful both to keep being blessedly oblivious to the increasingly desperate cries for attention from the women who have fallen prey to the unsurpassed mastery of the previous two techniques and to survive the also Heaven-defying punches from said women.

Of course, the classic school is geared not toward the gathering of a functioning harem, but to the cullying of prospective candidates so that only the chosen one can stand before the master after their trials are completed, thus ensuring the next generation of practitioners will only have the highest pedigree of dense protagonist and first girl in their blood. Which means it is completely unsuited to handling the problems that arise when the main character, through some failing of the third technique, acknowledges the romantic advances of more than one girl.

But all is not lost! Because there’s still one last recourse, one last ace up the sleeve of the practitioner if this dire event came to pass, something that takes the asymmetrical confrontation of a man against many women and slightly shifts the balance of power. I’m talking, of course, about the mythical Harem Manager.

Originally just another part of the cast, the Harem Manager will distinguish herself by having more personality than a cardboard cutout, some actual forcefulness, and an, often begrudging, acknowledgment of the protagonist’s abnormal romantic circumstances. Assuming she doesn’t use these far too unusual traits to secure her own monogamous claim, she will fight to have the rest of the cast beneath her sway, or, at least, to have them be as unobtrusive as possible, more often than not with very little input from the coveted milquetoast in question.

This is precisely why I’m pretending to enjoy Shizu’s awful tea with my eyes closed while Iroha and Komachi bicker on the sofa after said poor-tea purchaser has grabbed a bottle of whisky and adjourned to her bedroom.

No, no, it’s not out of sheer cowardice; I’m just following the steps laid out by the masters before me. Letting them establish a hierarchy while I pretend I don’t notice anything is just the very basics of what a properly trained, old school harem protagonist should be doing during this critical point in their relationship that—

“Senpai! Just how long will you keep sipping at your empty cup?!”

Damn it, Iroha, couldn’t your superlative observational skills just critically fail once in a while?!

“Until we’ve established a clear hierarchy in the harem that absolves him from any responsibility regarding how to handle the current situation.”

Damn it, Komachi, couldn’t your preternatural insight into my character glitch from time to time?!

“I’m not in his harem!”

“Well, obviously, you two haven’t even had sex yet.”

“Oral sex counts!”

“Yes, yes. Keep telling yourself that, dear,” Komachi tells her with as patronizing a tone as the words imply.

Which prompts Iroha to have a seemingly apoplectic fit as she struggles to make sounds other than something that would not be amiss in written katakana on a mind break doujin.

She then looks at me and points to my face with utter, crimson indignation.

‘Why aren’t you saying anything?!’ she seems to ask.

‘I don’t understand what you are implying, so I’m going back to savor this delicious cup of tea,’ I offer in silent reply.

This is the point where she starts strangling the air in front of her while looking straight into my eyes. Weird. It’s not like the air needs to breathe, Iroha. Your attacks are utterly ineffective due to using the wrong element.

Komachi also sends me a smug look over her shoulder. It seems she agrees with me that, as outstanding as Iroha’s training undoubtedly is in other areas, she should play an RPG or two to master the very basics of combat.

And now she has hit me with a thrown pillow. Ah, shurikenjutsu. More evidence to the pile.

‘Dude… A bit of solidarity wouldn’t be amiss.’

Brain-chan, is this compassion for your fellow human being I hear from you? I’m shocked! Astounded! In despair! My brain has left me in despair!

‘Pretty sure that last one is reciprocal. But really, the girl kissed you after your incestuous affair was revealed rather than stab you or cut off all contact. So…’

Ah, you really do take the fun out of anything.

‘At least I made you take somethingout of something else before you had Oreimo babies.’

… Fine.

With a sigh that I exaggerate rather than suppress, because what’s the point otherwise, I take the pillow away from its comfortable position as a face shield and deposit the empty teacup on the countertop.

Iroha’s looking at me resentfully, and Komachi with mild surprise. I don’t know which bodes worse for my sanity.

So I get up and get to the sofa before I do one of the most stupid things I’ve done all day (which, given precisely whatI was doing a few hours earlier, is not a low bar to clear). And I sit between Iroha and my sister.

Komachi immediately latches on to my left arm, nestling it between her slight (yet very, very appealing) breasts. Iroha looks like she’s about to froth at the mouth before she does the same with my right arm.

… This is already going far worse than I expected.

“Look, there’s no need to fight—”

“If you finish that sentence by saying ‘over me,’ I’m going to bite you, Senpai.”

“Oh, kinky,” Komachi singsongs.

… I tried, Brain-chan, I tried.

‘No, you fucking didn’t, though I sympathise.’

Things are that dire, then?

‘If you really need me to tell you…’

“Right, let me start again—”

“Yes, that’s precisely what you were saying about two hours ago, brother—”

“For fuck’s sake, Komachi!”

“No, no, let me hear how that went. I mean, with Shizu and me, you seemed pretty satisfied after just one go.”

“Maybe he just didn’t feel like telling you—”

“They were wonderful. It was a loving, tender scene, and I couldn’t ask them for anything more because I felt completely fulfilled and spent, both physically and emotionally.”

“And then you went and stuck it into your little sister.”

“For fuck’s sake, Iroha!”

“So much for being ‘utterly fulfilled,’ brother. I mean, you certainly didn’t act like you had all your needs covered as you fucked me into the mattress so hard I—”

“If you both feel the need to compete over this, how about you do something other than snipe at one another!”

Komachi shuts up. Iroha shuts up.

They look at each other. Then at me.

And I look at the balcony once again, hoping for the awakening of my British blood so that I can bring myself to jump out of it to safety, or, at the very least, the comparative safety of a hospital visit.

What have I gotten myself into this time?

‘That’s what he said—’

Brain-chan, I’ll hurt you.

***

I’m still sitting on Shizu’s conveniently gray sofa.

I’m not wearing any pants, nor underwear, so I hope its stain-covering properties are as strong as I suspect.

Iroha and Komachi are lying on their stomachs, each of them at one of my sides, each of them cutely propping their faces on their closed fists.

Each of them staring at my dick.

“Why isn’t it hard?” Komachi asks.

“Gee, I wonder.”

“No, really, you have two cute girls looking at—”

“I’m not an exhibitionist!”

“I have a video that says otherwise, Senpai.”

Deep. Breaths.

“You have a video of me non-verbally telling you to go away until I finally decide not to interrupt Shizu’s efforts.”

Iroha flashes me a grin and takes out her phone.

Fuck.

A couple of swipes and presses, and said phone is lying on my lap, almost in reach of my very much non-erect dick, displaying the evidence to Komachi.

“You… certainly don’t look that upset,” my sister comments.

“It’s hard to look upset when Shizu does… That.”

“I could believe that, if not for…” Iroha swipes her finger in a very practiced movement (that almost brushes me) and gets the video to a certain frame. Then pauses it. “That. If not for that.”

The handsome man on her phone screen, who has a brunette between his legs, is now looking straight at the camera. His eyes are, for once, completely unlike those of a dead fish. They may be… a bit intense, actually. I mean, if Totsuka looked at me like that, I would…

Run away.

Yes. Most likely.

“Whoa,” Komachi whispers.

“Right? Right?!” Iroha answers with barely restrained enthusiasm. Which I admit is a bit disorienting, seeing as she’s getting worked up over something on her screen rather than over… Well, me.

Oi, it’s a bit demoralizing to lose the attention of a girl to yourself. Is this NTR or netori at this point? Or could it even be the dreaded netorase?

‘If you’re willing to lend them to me, I—’

Not in a million years.

‘Dude, you realize I’m you, don’t you? You have issues.’

I took my younger sister’s virginity when she taunted me with the possibility of another man ever doing it instead of me. I have subscriptions.

“But look at this moment,” Iroha says, far too engrossed in sharing her wholesome photography hobby with Komachi to notice my internal dilemma.

“Is that when he—”

“Exactly! Look, look, here he’s just—oh, that part is the best.”

On the screen, I’m shivering as (my very vivid memories tell me) Shizu gulps load after load of my sperm while she keeps masturbating to the sensation of my member caught between her lips. I finally straighten myself and go completely still before deliberately dropping down so that my forehead touches the one of the woman frantically pleasuring herself for me. The phone catches my lips as they move, but not the sound. Yet I remember.

‘Mine,’ I growled to her.

And, after my lips form the words, Shizu’s form on the screen shivers with a repressed wail, her body shaking between my arms.

“That… That was something,” Komachi whispers, her eyes transfixed on the scene.

“I have fingered myself silly to this video so many times…” Iroha lets out in what, I hope, is an involuntary confession.

As for me?

Well, let’s just say I’m currently very glad they are looking so intently at the phone and not at, you know, a few inches behind and above it.

“I can see why.” Komachi, you aren’t helping. At all.

“Oh, I… I said that aloud, didn’t I? Well, it’s not like… You know.”

“I do. Damn it, I don’t want to, but I do.”

“He just looks so…”

“You haven’t seen him up close, his face right above yours, looking at you like he could have the whole world burn around him and not even care so long as he could—”

“I sucked his cock right out of Shizu’s breasts. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

This is the weirdest bonding moment I’ve ever seen.

And I’ve watched Naruto and Sasuke’s first kiss far too many times. Damn fujoshis and their stealth video editing.

Also, no one can convince me that was their last kiss.

… The girls are far too silent.

And staring a few inches behind and above the phone.

Damn it.

“So, you have two cute girls stretched by your side, and the thing that finally gets you hard is a video of yourself. How despicable, brother. Such egotism is so gross I don’t even know why I expected anything else.”

“If you can tell me with a straight face your panties are dry after watching that, I will confess to my failings as a man and never again protest any assignment of Komachi Points.”

And my sister flushes.

Oho.

Also, Iroha, stop looking so smug. It worries me.

And now she’s grasping my dick. Knew it.

“You know, as much as I loved recording this clip and watching it afterward… I wonder how it would feel to be recorded.”

Komachi, stop looking like you just found your fated rival with whom you will have constant, heated competition with underlying sexual tension throughout every arc. It worries me.

Also, grabbing Iroha’s phone is a terrible violation of her privacy, and you should feel ashamed of yourself.

Like I am.

‘Oh, so this is shame. I wondered what that was.’

Don’t fuck with me; you know perfectly well what shame is. We’ve almost died of it quite a few times.

‘Fine, fine, blame me for trying to lighten the mood… Also, heads up. Or down, as the case may be.’

What—

That interruption? That derailment of my train of thought (well, more like my caravan of thought that tends to get lost because of some guy named Moses who doubted his GPS at one point or another) that just happened? That’s when Iroha’s tongue almost shyly traces the ridge beneath my glans.

Komachi is recording all of it, shivering, with a grin so wide I worry about possible stretch marks.

And Iroha looks up at her, my cock clearly in the middle of the line along which their eyes meet, and smiles her foxy grin right before she leans down and drags the pointed tip of her tongue from the base, along the shaft, past the ridge, and ultimately to my very tip, where she laps up a transparent dollop of viscous fluid.

My fingers are clawing the sofa’s cushions. I hope no cigarette ash gets beneath my nails.

“How is it?” Komachi asks, loud enough for the phone to clearly record her voice.

Iroha traces her lips with her tongue before wetting them thoroughly, all traces of me vanishing into her mouth.

“Mild. Nothing like it was when he came all over my face.”

“Yes, when he came over me… I took a bit of it. It tasted nothing like it did when I was trying to rile him up.”

Iroha’s hand pumps up and down my length, her fingers barely grazing the bottom of my glans before reversing the motion.

“Trying?” she asks with a hungry grin.

“Succeeding,” Komachi answers, her fang peeking out in her returning, predatory smile.

… All right, if Iroha is a kitsune, what is Komachi? Dog-girl? Wolf-girl? Is there a proper hierarchy between canines that’s being displayed through this weird dominance ritual that—

“Fuck!” I let out as Iroha engulfs my whole head and twirls her tongue around me.

“Pay attention, brother. It would be rude to poor Iroha otherwise. This is her video debut, after all.”

And something snaps at the porn line to end all porn lines.

My hand slides up Iroha’s back in a way that makes her arch it quite enticingly.

And I don’t care, because my target is a bit farther up.

Her short hair, specifically, through which my fingers tangle before I get a good grasp on her head, pulling her up just a bit, just enough that her lips are only barely kissing my tip as she slides her tongue out of them so she can keep licking me.

Then I push her down.

Her eyes widen, and a low moan escapes from her throat, though obviously muffled.

I keep her down, her own hand grasping my base acting as a limit for how far I can push her, but I grind her around my cock, my grasp on her hair tight enough she follows the motion even as Komachi gets so near I doubt the camera won’t get fogged up.

Then I pull her up, and this time she arches her back much higher, because I’m making her look directly at me, and she needs her hands on my lap to support herself.

“I had to leave home in quite a hurry, Iroha,” I tell her, my voice, obviously and to no one’s surprise, deep.

“Hachi… Wha…” Her eyes are slightly unfocused, and I bet she would be touching herself if I wasn’t forcing her into this position. Although if I wasn’t, then maybe she wouldn’t feel like touching herself.

“I didn’t take a shower.”

She keeps looking at me with that look that is making me much harder than it has any right to, until something clicks and her eyes focus and widen just as Komachi gasps in (presumably) realization. She could also be gasping in another emotion, but right now I’m too busy with Iroha to explore my sister’s multiple and varied perversions.

Speaking of Iroha, right as she opens her mouth to voice… something, I push her down.

And now, knowing she’s tasting both my sister and me, her swift tongue hesitates for just a moment. So I pull her up, her lips barely kissing my tip…

And she lets her tongue out of them to frantically lick around me.

I groan in approval (and something else), then turn my head to Komachi.

Komachi, who’s laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbow, Iroha’s phone pointed straight at her owner. Komachi, who has one free hand.

A hand buried beneath her body, her blue pants showing off how her petite butt squirms as it accompanies her movements.

“You didn’t think about that, did you?” I ask her.

She shakes her head, silent, her face reddening ever more with every twitch of the arm hidden from my view.

“But you want to make it up to poor Iroha, don’t you? After all, if it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t be licking your juices out of my cock, would she?”

Komachi nods. And moans.

“Glad we understand each other. Give me that phone.” Wordlessly, she does, and I point it so that both their faces show in the frame. “Very well. Now, undress her.”

Slowly, Komachi blinks up at me in a way that pointlessly shows off how great she always looks in any photo she deigns grace with her charm. Then she hides her still flushed face from me, turning it down and away, as her breathing grows louder.

I pump Iroha up and down my length, her tongue sliding between me and her lip, making the motion frictionless.

And Komachi stands up.

I watch her unclasp Iroha’s mauve skirt, hesitating until the older girl wiggles her hips so that she can slide it down legs that aren’t long, but definitely shapely, her skin so smooth it almost shimmers under the ceiling lights.

And Komachi looks at me. Because Iroha is wearing a button-up blouse, and she’s lying on her stomach, so it would be a bit hard to take that off. On the other hand, her hips are still raised, her delightfully squeezable bottom swaying left and right with the rhythm of her up and down motion.

Komachi looks at Iroha’s white panties, which I know have a wet stain down the middle right now, then at me.

I nod.

Iroha freezes when she feels Komachi’s fingers tug the elastic of her waistband, but then renews her assault on my manhood with ever more fervor. And Komachi takes them off.

My little sister is looking for what (I hope) is the first time in her life at the excited vagina of another girl. Her eyes follow the swaying motion, as mesmerized as I am.

She looks at me.

I nod.

And, with a hesitant, almost trembling hand, she reaches up and touches Iroha.

Who freezes, the tip of my cock in her mouth, her eyes closed.

Then, with another muffled moan, dives down my shaft.

And Komachi’s arm moves.

I am so, so glad I got all of this on camera.

I relax my grasp on Iroha’s hair and go from forcefully guiding her to gently petting her, her hips swaying more enthusiastically as I do that, and Komachi smiles in an almost dopey way at the sight before her, her eyes glued to where her hand hides from my sight beneath Iroha’s wonderfully bouncy bottom.

“You have two hands, Komachi,” I say gently, my fingers taking a small detour to massage Iroha’s nape as the taut muscles shift with her every attentive movement.

“I…” My sister looks from me to Iroha’s behind, and she gets my meaning, grabbing one soft cheek in the way I wish I could do, were my own hands not occupied. “Her body is so soft, so unlike yours…”

“And you like it.”

She hesitates, Iroha slowing her own assault as she waits for the answer.

“I do. You have great taste, brother.”

“I do. Speaking of taste… Iroha already knows what you taste like.”

They both freeze. Then, very slowly, Komachi takes away her hands, looks at what I’m guessing is a very wet, very reddened part of my lover’s anatomy…

And lies face up on the sofa, right beneath the older girl.

It takes her a moment before her hands snake up and around her, grabbing that squeezable ass. A moment later, Iroha almost screams around me.

And then she gets eager.

I almost let go of her phone, but I manage to keep hold of it, and I stretch my arm, hopefully catching on camera what’s going on between them. Which allows me to focus on something other than my foxy junior pointlessly showing off how much she has already improved through image training alone.

A lot. She has improved a lot.

Because… Well, I loved the last time. I wasn’t lying either, when I said I was completely fulfilled, both physically and emotionally, but if Iroha hadn’t been paying so much attention to Shizu and her lessons, if she had been so intensely devoted to my own pleasure, so focused, self-assured, and all of this was combined with Shizu skillfully handling me between her breasts… I think it would’ve been a much shorter memory.

Luckily, Shizu isn’t here—I better rephrase this if I value my survival.

Luckily, Shizu’s peacefully resting, and so I’m not captivated by her unearthly beauty and her incomparable charms, and thus my stamina can hold out under her student’s assault.

Yes. Much better.

And now she’s moaning—oh, really?

Well, look who’s on a hair-trigger…

I lean down, whispering right behind her head.

“Iroha… is my cute little sister about to make you cum while you suck on my cock?”

She’s trying to say no without taking me out of her mouth. This shouldn’t be so endearing.

“Ah, in that case, do you want me to tell her to stop?”

Komachi’s fingers dig into soft, bouncy cheeks, and Iroha dives so far down I can feel my tip pressing against the ring at the entrance to her throat.

“Is that a yes?”

Her attempt at an answer vibrates around me.

Trying not to smile like a maniac (and likely failing), I grab her hair once again and pull her off, forcing her to look at me as my spit-drenched member almost vibrates after being freed.

“I asked you a question, Iroha: do you want me to tell my cute little sister to stop eating you out?”

Her unfocused eyes glint for a moment, and her loose smile sharpens.

“What? Senpai, are you asking me to have you use your sister as an incestuous marital aid? To give you my express permission to order your cute, little Komachi to vibrate her tongue against my clitoris while I slobber on her brother’s cock? To not only get carried away by the moment, but to verbally acknowledge what you’re doing to both of us so that you can feel I’m fully included in this whole mess you’ve dragged Shizu and me into? I’m sorry, Senpai, but that’s impossible! After all…”

Iroha grasps my shaft with both hands and leans back, her body straightening until she’s sitting right over Komachi, who keeps moving her head in a very involved way between the older girl’s thighs. Then, my cheeky junior, with that very same cunning smile, drags me up by my dick until I’m standing on Shizu’s sofa, her head between my legs, her honey eyes looking up at me as my member casts a distinct shadow over her sharp grin.

“After all,” she repeats, “when did you get the impression you had any choice in this matter?” she finally says.

Then she dives down. And I see white.

At this point, saying Iroha is dangerous is like saying I don’t like Yui’s cooking: entirely true, yet still far from the actual, underlying, terrible truth that words can never hope to capture.

Also, she’s shivering. It looks like Komachi might be somehow able to act as a deterrent, if I time things right.

Which, going by Iroha’s hands grasping my own behind as she tries her very best to mash her nose against my pelvis, I may not be able to do.

So… Well, if you can’t defeat them…

I was about to say this wasn’t what the Americans had in mind with that saying, but, quite frankly, if their (uncensored, pirated) movies have taught me anything, it’s that Americans may very well have intended the saying for precisely this very situation. Incest included.

Though non-blood related. Again with that ‘step-bro’ crap.

Speaking of, I’m only seeing flashes of Komachi’s dark hair shaking left to right whenever Iroha leans back far enough that I almost escape from her lips. It looks like she’s enjoying herself. I may ask her to give me some tips.

After all, I already gave her my own tip—

‘Would you focus on the cute girl slobbering on your cock, for fuck’s sake!’

I will have you know I’m just trying very, veryhard not to blow my load since that little speech almost shortcircuited me!

‘Look at her! Does she look like she doesn’t want to swallow your load while sitting on your bratty sister’s face!’

Komachi is not bratty! She’s just the right amount of cheeky for it to be cute rather than obnoxious, and—

‘Not the fucking point!’

I know! But if I look one more time at Iroha’s eyes as they keep seeking my own as if my enjoyment of her body was the most important thing in her world, I will—

Fuck.

“Iroha! I’m going to—” Her fingers dig into my flesh, and she dives forward, her tongue in a frenzy around me, the entrance to her throat frantically swallowing around my very tip.

And I can’t take it anymore.

My hands clench around her shaking head, and I barely stop myself from thrusting my hips forward as a jet of pure sensation shoots out of my body. And her eyes narrow in pleasure, as if taking inside her the most delicious thing she’s ever tasted. Then I only see black.

When I regain my sight, I’m sitting in front of a trembling Iroha, her head thrown back so I only see her taut neck, every line of muscle showing in stark definition.

It takes her a whole ten seconds since I start counting to slightly slump forward, to face me once again so I can see her profanely beatific smile.

Without saying anything, she gets up, and I can see Komachi’s face, wet with Iroha’s juices, her eyes unfocused.

That last one may have something to do with the hand buried inside her pants. Just a hunch.

My sister’s glassy eyes focus just in time to catch Iroha’s leaning face, my cheeky junior about to kiss my—

Ah. No. Change of plans.

Right, let me rephrase that:

My wicked junior leans down, her hands pressing on Komachi’s cheeks till she opens her mouth. Then she throws a sideways glance at me to make sure I’m looking, and waits until I remember to pick up the phone from where it’s fallen on the sofa and point it at her, resuming my ‘porn director doing a couch casting’ role.

She opens her mouth right over Komachi’s lips, and my cum dribbles down in a thick, viscous stream.

And Komachi laps it up, moaning and masturbating all the way, until no more of my seed remains in Iroha’s mouth, and she dives in for the kiss I expected earlier, their lips mashing until the older girl leans back, a thin rope of off-white fluid stretching until it snaps between the two of them.

And Komachi cums.

Yes, I’ve memorized the face she makes when she does that. Just as every doting bother should—

‘No.’

Right. Sorry. Sex makes me dumb.

‘Right. Sex. Of course.’

“So there you have it, Senpai. I’m sorry to refuse your plot to get me involved in this whole thing, but I’m already involved in the previous thing. So the home-breaker will have to be the addition, not the other way around.”

“Brother… How—”

“Don’t even ask, Komachi. As far as I know, she learned from her village of kitsune kunoichi.”

Iroha suspiciously freezes at the accusation, but it could also be her enhanced senses warning her of incoming danger.

Because, at that very moment, Shizu’s bedroom door opens, and a slightly swaying Christmas Cake enters the room.

“All right, brat, I think I’m ready to discuss how things are going to go from here on—”

Shizu freezes, her eyes going from Komachi’s barely dressed shape lying on my couch, traces of my cum on her lips, to Iroha’s half-naked shape, standing near her couch, traces of my cum on her lips, to my also half-naked shape, sitting on her couch, no traces of cum on my cock (thanks to Iroha).

I feel I should add that the amount of traces of my cum on her couch is, thanks to the gray camouflage, undistinguishable.

…

I need to start caring about locks. I feel my sex life can only benefit from the proper application of the concept.

Also, my life expectancy.