Stealth Affair
"Yukari, are you sure this looks good on me?"
Mitsuru purses her lip at her own reflection in the changing room mirror and runs another careful scrutiny of herself, only to again reach no certain conclusion. In the end, it's no use; Mitsuru has never had an actual sense for style and she has no idea what she should make of the blouse and skirt she's shimmied herself into. She'll just have to trust Yukari's opinion.
"Senpai, you look amazing," Yukari assures her, grinning enthusiastically. "Any model would be totally jealous of you right now."
Mitsuru bites her lip. "You're sure?" She still feels uncertain, but then, that might just be attributed to how conscious she is of the air swishing so freely around her legs—skirts tend to make her feel rather vulnerable.
"Trust me, that outfit's great on you. Although..." Yukari rests her chin in her palm and takes on a somewhat contemplative look before she reaches out and, to Mitsuru's surprise, grasps at the fabric covering her chest. She tugs at the cloth a couple times, and Mitsuru feels her own pulse quicken ever so slightly as the jostling makes her breasts lightly bounce against Yukari's hand.
"Hey, are you tight there?" Yukari asks, and it takes Mitsuru a moment to realize that she's talking about the blouse. "We can get this in a larger size if we need to."
Mitsuru sighs, slightly flustered—she honestly isn't sure if that constriction she feels in her chest is the result of a tight blouse or something else entirely—and replies, "Yes, I suppose it might be a bit snug."
"Yeah, lemme see here." Yukari hums lightly before quickly slipping around behind the other, placing her hands on Mitsuru's sides, and Mitsuru swallows hard. Yukari's fingers pinch repeatedly at the fabric in what's presumably an attempt to gauge how well it fits, and Mitsuru can't help but fidget a little whenever she brushes over certain spots—but then Yukari's hands travel down and pause, lingering oddly at her waist.
Just when Mitsuru is about to ask what she's doing, soft lips press a kiss to what Yukari knows is a sensitive column on the back of her neck, and Mitsuru ends up yelping aloud instead.
"H-hey!"
"Sorry," Yukari giggles, except she doesn't sound sorry at all, and before Mitsuru has a chance to react, the other's mouth is fluttering over the bare skin of her shoulder, murmuring against it, "You were squirming so much, I couldn't help myself."
The hands at her waist begin fumbling with her belt—and Mitsuru, a hint of a dare in her voice, whispers, "I thought you said this looked good on me."
"Oh, it does," Yukari drawls. "But right now, I think you'd look best with it off."
Mitsuru shudders at the promise in those words, and when the suspense finally becomes too much, her own hands quickly slide down to help Yukari undo the buckle. From there, Yukari unloops the belt with ease, and Mitsuru whimpers a little as both it and the skirt hit the floor, but doesn't protest. Yukari gently pushes against her back, forcing her forward, and Mitsuru ends up stumbling on her feet, widening her stance and slamming her palms against the wall to support herself.
...Oh, dear god, is anybody in the adjacent stall?
"Yukari, someone might hear!" Mitsuru hisses, quiet but alarmed, and that's enough to give Yukari pause, hand stilling against her hip.
"You want me to stop?"
Mitsuru bites her lip, strains her ears to try and hear if there's anyone in the next stall over. After three full seconds in which only silence greets her, she allows herself to shake her head.
"Good," Yukari laughs, sounding relieved as she, ever so carefully, touches Mitsuru through her panties. "Then I suggest you cover your mouth."
As Yukari's fingers slide past the fabric of her underwear, Mitsuru does just that, biting down on her own knuckles to smother the cry that nearly escapes her when Yukari's fingernail scraping over her clit sends a jolt up her spine. Yukari chuckles, low and wicked, teasingly pulling back from that sweet spot to instead trace along her inner thigh, and Mitsuru is forced to muffle her own frustrated whine. She squirms, tries to trap Yukari's hand between her legs in a physical plea for relief, until at last, Yukari reaches back to circle the tip of her finger around her entrance, her other hand brushing lightly over Mitsuru's trembling waist. The world is starting to spin and it's getting harder and harder to breathe through just her nose, but Mitsuru doesn't dare bring her hand down from her mouth because if she does, she's sure the entire store will be able to hear her scream.
"God, Senpai, you're so tense I can feel it." Yukari taunts, finally, finally slipping a finger inside her, and Mitsuru stifles a moan as she feels herself automatically clench around it. "You've been overworking yourself again, haven't you?"
Mitsuru shakes her head on reflex, but Yukari tsks chidingly. "Don't lie to me, Senpai. When was the last time you called, huh? How long did it take for me to finally drag you out on this date, huh?" A second finger joins in, and then a third, and Mitsuru bites down on her own hand so hard she almost thinks she can taste blood. Even if she could speak properly, though, Mitsuru wouldn't be able to argue—she knows Yukari is right. "Looks like I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson."
The hand at her waist trails up, finds Mitsuru's left breast, squeezes it with a vengeance, while the fingers of Yukari's other hand slide out and thrust back in, curling inside her, until Mitsuru is rocking her hips and Yukari is scraping teeth over the curve of her shoulder, up her neck, lips somehow managing to find her ear so as to whisper right into it, "You're beautiful, Senpai."
At that, Yukari presses her thumb down on Mitsuru's clit, brushes her fingers against that one sweet spot on her walls—and that's all it takes for the dam to break.
Mitsuru comes quietly and quickly, stifling any and all noises between her teeth and hand, riding high over the wave of pressure and pleasure and sheer heat for an entirely blissful if not brief period before tempering out, and Yukari releases her soon after so as to let her recover. Once Mitsuru has her breath and some semblance of coherent thought back, she steps away from the stall wall and glances down at herself to gauge the sticky aftermath: her panties are soaked through, and her cum is dripping down her thigh, her leg, almost onto the floor. Yukari gently tugs at her arm and Mitsuru complies with the unspoken demand, turning around to let the scoundrel see the full results of her handiwork.
Yukari gives a low whistle.
"Aw shoot, what a mess." Yukari smirks, taking her soaked fingers into into her mouth and making a show of sucking them clean before popping them out. "Guess I'll have to clean this up."
Mitsuru flushes as Yukari then bends to her knees and scoots towards her, reaching her wet and warm and still slightly sticky hand towards her waist and swiftly yanking Mitsuru's panties down. Yukari grins up at her, smug and mischievous, like the cat that just got the cream, and presses her mouth up against Mitsuru's thigh to start licking her clean. Mitsuru's hands fly to her mouth and her face burns hot against her palms, but she can't look away, and she's still arching her own hips into the embrace of Yukari's tongue. Half of her is perfectly aware that they should really stop this now, while they have the chance, before they run the serious risk of getting caught...but the other half wants nothing more than to grip Yukari by the hair, and hold her head in place, and make her quit it with the teasing and just put that tongue right where Mitsuru needs it to be—
Someone knocks at the door and Mitsuru jumps out of her skin, horror striking through her heart and only subsiding once she recognizes that the voice on the other side is Kikuno's.
"Milady, Yukari-san, are you two alright?" And oh, to anyone else that probably sounded perfectly innocent, but Mitsuru has known Kikuno for years and she can easily recognize the knowing, smug laughter underlying her maid's voice. Not to mention, Kikuno was supposed to wait outside the mall for the two of them until they got back, and yet somehow, she's managed to find them in this specific store in this specific dressing room—
...Wait, just how long has she been standing right outside their stall?
"Oh, we're fine, Kikuno-san," Yukari calls back, her lips smacking a bit with stickiness but her voice still perfectly chipper. "Although we could use some paper towels, if you wouldn't mind."
There's a long, awkward, excruciating pause, during which Mitsuru thinks she might actually drop dead of embarrassment. Then, "Milady?"
"Y-yes, towels, Kikuno," Mitsuru stutters, still trying to catch her breath, and she only barely manages to hold back a yelp when Yukari's tongue unexpectedly goes right back to sweeping between her legs. Sneaky little minx.
"...Understood," Kikuno says, voice knowing and amused in a way that leaves Mitsuru with no doubt that she knows exactly what's happening in here. Furthermore, a handful of paper towels are shoved beneath the door not even two seconds later, which indicates that Kikuno has had those ready for quite some time now.
Oh god. Mitsuru is never going to live this one down, is she?
"We're in a public dressing room!" Mitsuru hiss-whispers, snatching up a towel and dabbing furiously at her own dripping, sticky leg. Of course, she knew that all along, but apparently, only now that the haze of pleasure has faded and the humiliation has caught up to her is that fact finally hitting home.
Yukari, to her credit, has the sense to look sheepish.
"Sorry," Yukari murmurs, grabbing a towel herself to help wipe her down. "I might have gotten a little carried away."
Eventually, the last of the mess is more or less safely contained in the wads of paper in their hands, and Yukari finishes the job by wiping her own chin and licking her lips. There's a certain temptation in the action, though, that strikes Mitsuru with a wild hot urge—and she lunges forward, grasping Yukari by the wrists, pinning her back up against the other wall just as Yukari did to her before. Yukari's eyes are wide but the corners of her mouth are upturned and that only urges Mitsuru on, so she presses her chest flush against the other's and places her knee between Yukari's thighs.
"When we return home, you will receive your comeuppance," Mitsuru whispers, diving in for a quick, harsh, salty kiss, in which she can still taste her own juices lingering on the other's mouth. Before she pulls back, Mitsuru rides her knee up against Yukari's crotch, too, for good measure, and revels in the way Yukari visibly shivers. "That's a promise."
Yukari grins, wide and unabashed, eyes sparkling with anticipation, and Mitsuru smirks back before releasing her. Mitsuru dresses herself once more, and when she's fully clothed again and glances back towards the mirror, she finds that she no longer looks quite so flushed and ravaged. Relieved, still somewhat aroused, but now fully presentable, Mitsuru nods towards Yukari and moves to open the stall door—
"Since you're already here shopping for clothes," Kikuno chimes in greeting the moment they come out, an absolutely shit-eating grin across her face, "might you wish to procure a new set of underwear, Milady?"
Mitsuru sighs.
Right. Never living this down.