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Chapter Thirteen: Guilt

Once again, I entertained the distant hope that I might be rid of the curse. My reasoning — this time — went like this:

Haruhi had three major orifices, and my magical shaft had violated each and every one of them. Now that my penis had penetrated her every way it could — free of romantic entanglements — she'd reached her goal.

Ruma dashed my hopes the next morning. She nearly ran me over when she joined me in the shower. Her running hug knocked me into the wall.

"I missed him so much." Her hug slid down my body as she dropped to her knees. She playfully kissed my balls.

So much for being rid of this curse.

Ruma sampled a mouthful of meat. "He tastes… different." The kneeling beauty pulled off and sniffed. "He smells different too."

I thought I'd scrubbed my dick as clean as I could after buttfucking Haruhi, but part of her essence remained.

"Good or bad?"

"Neither. Just different. It's hard to describe."

Where have I heard that before?

She reached up to the ledge for a pink squirt bottle. "I bet he'll taste perfect with the addition of some strawberry-flavored soap." She resumed the work of cleaning me.

"Hey Ruma, aside from the taste and odor, does my dick seem any different to you?"

"Nope. He's wonderful… as usual." She kissed his head. "In fact, he's slightly more wonderful than before." She sucked him into her mouth.

I intertwined my fingers behind my neck, closed my eyes, and sighed.

###

Homeroom passed without much conversation, and the few words I did exchange with Haruhi didn't make much sense.

"I've been thinking about what you asked me yesterday, Kyon," she said after I handed her the key, "and I guess I'm okay with it."

"Okay, with what?"

"I'm okay with you getting us a mop."

She spent the rest of the period looking out the window, brushing off her skirt, and crossing and uncrossing her legs.

###

Lunch period found my dick pressed between Mikuru's supple breasts. As the redhead's perfect globes enveloped, stroked, and squeezed me toward Nirvana, a thought crossed my mind.

Does Haruhi want to titty-fuck me too?

I tried imagining the universe somehow duplicating this scene with a naked brunette on her knees — devoid of any romantic entanglements, of course.

Suppose she preferred getting me off with her feet or her armpit? Or maybe her hair?

The thought of Haruhi looping strands of her once-long mane around my shaft intrigued me. Mikuru giggled when he twitched.

Why did she have to cut it?

Seconds later, the buxom beauty looked up at me with smiling chipmunk cheeks and cum-stained breasts. "Thank you, Kyon. That was wonderful, as always."

"As always?"

"Actually, it was a little more wonderful than before. How did you manage that?"

I shrugged. "Beats me."

What the hell am I doing here?

###

If someone had followed me after Art class, they would have thought I was crazy — or talking to a ghost. Hidden behind her holographic cloak, the exceedingly cute coed walking beside me held my hand.

I pushed the special polarizing glasses up my nose and turned my head to view her. "You know what, Nagato? I don't think I'll ever be rid of this curse."

Yuki squeezed my hand. I imagined it was her way of saying, "Good."

"Did you ever think you'd end up walking the halls of North High barefoot after spending an hour sucking on my dick? Five times per week?"

She glanced up at me. "No. But I don't mind."

I opened a door, and we stepped into a stairwell. At the landing halfway to the second floor, I stopped, put my hands on Yuki's smooth bare hips, and turned her toward me.

"Yuki, I'm not sure I like what I'm doing to you. I think this needs to stop. I mean… look at you."

She met my eyes but didn't speak.

"You're totally nude with a belly full of my cum, and a hologram generator stuck in your asshole."

"Does that disappoint you?"

"Hell, no." I cupped her breasts. "You've never looked more beautiful."

Yuki considered my comment. Then she took a step forward and pulled me into her arms. As she held me, her cheek resting on my chest, her breasts pressed into my belly, I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.

We stood there for several minutes.

Until I felt better.

###

The employees of the Toyohara Love Hotel knew me by name. Actually, they knew me by a name that wasn't legally mine.

"How are you doing today, Mr. Smith?" Kobi, the guy at the front desk, asked.

"You can call me John." I took the key card from his hand.

"Miss Jones is waiting for you."

I bowed. "Thank you." Tsuruya always got here early.

"Is there anything we can do to improve the quality of your stay?" Kobi always asked me this, and I usually told him I'd call room service, but I never did.

Today, I had a request. "Can you get me one of those bottles of fragrant massaging oil? Oh, and a bouquet of flowers?"

"Will roses suffice?"

"Sure. But make sure to scrape off the thorns."

"Expect someone in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks."

Fifteen minutes later, Tsuruya lay on her belly nude, her hair tied in a bun atop her head. I'd strapped her to one of her favorite torture devices, the rack. Her arms were spread at shoulder width and chains tethered her wrists to a roller. Her ankles were similarly spread and tethered to a roller on the other side of the narrow wooden bench. Each turn of a crank turned the rollers a bit, pulling her wrists and ankles farther apart.

I rested my hand on her firm bare bottom. "You can handle a couple more clicks."

"Dickwad."

I turned the crank twice.

"Oh, shit," she gasped. "You are such a lowlife craphole."

"What did you say to me?" WHACK - WHACK - WHACK. I smacked her butt with a wooden paddle.

"EEEEEEP!" She expelled a wide-eyed shriek. Moments later, tears rolled down her cheeks. "You heard me," she sobbed, "you numbnut shithead."

Someone knocked on the door. "Don't go anywhere," I said. "I'll be right back." As if she had an option.

I returned with a bouquet of flowers and a small glass bottle of massaging oil. I pulled a rose out of the bunch and held it to her nose.

She tilted her head and sniffed. "Smells nice."

"I got these for you."

When she furrowed her brow, I pulled out three stems and verified they were clean. Then I bunched them together and rubbed some oil on the stems. Tsuruya squealed when I inserted the stems into her ass.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you make a beautiful vase?"

"No. This is a first."

I dropped some oil on her back and rubbed it into her shoulders. Tsuruya moaned as her muscles relaxed. I worked my way down her body, squeezing the tension out of back, bottom, and legs.

"What's the punch line, dirtbag?"

"Are you worried I put acid on your body or something?"

"No. I recognize this oil. It's my favorite blend and expensive as hell."

"So what's the problem?"

She fluttered her fingers. "This isn't hurting me. In fact, it feels really nice. Even the flower stems you inserted into my asshole feel kind of pleasant, especially compared to what you usually shove in there."

"I'm thinking of being nicer to you."

Tsuruya turned her head, rested her cheek on the wooden bench, and considered my words. "If you make me fall in love with you — and I'm not saying that's a bad thing — but if you do that, I'm going to need more attention from you than one time per week."

"Don't you love me already?"

"You know what I mean."

"Do you enjoy being tortured like this?"

Tsuruya frowned. "These rack sessions are really good for my back. Sure, it hurts like a motherfucker when you're stretching me, but it has its benefits."

"Bullshit."

"Way. A couple of years ago, I hurt my back landing wrong after doing a flying Karate kick. Doctors examined me, they took x-rays, I did physical therapy, but it still hurt. Thanks to you, the pain is gone."

I rubbed her glistening thighs. "What about all the welts and bruises?"

Tsuruya clenched her fists and groaned. "Seriously, Boss, will you stop it with the soul searching and fuck my ass already? ... You mangy pile of dog shit."

"There's flowers in there."

"I'll hold them with my teeth."

I pulled the stems out of her butt and held them to her mouth.

"Wait. Let me look at them first."

"Sure." I held the roses out by her shackled wrists.

She craned her neck up to see them. "They're really pretty, Kyon. And thanks for the oil, too. That was very thoughtful." She opened wide.

I put the stems between her teeth, and she clamped down on them. I pulled off my pants, hopped onto the bench, and brutally reamed her ass.

###

I didn't go home after leaving the Toyohara Love Hotel. And, no, I didn't share a cup of tea with Miss Tsuruya afterward. The end of our sessions always left her an exhausted, battered, blubbering mess who flinched if I raised an index finger to her.

The sessions left me equally exhausted — and dark. But we'd both be fully recharged by the end of the week for another round of this madness.

I walked to the park and sat on my favorite bench. As people flowed past — couples, dog walkers, bikers, and runners — I meditated on the state of things. Wasn't it Einstein who said a body in motion will remain in motion unless acted on by an outside force?

I didn't have the strength or willpower to break myself out of my current trajectory. My dick's power intoxicated me, and the sex just felt too damn good. I felt bad for the girls that I was using, but they didn't seem to mind. Poor Tsuruya got more out of our meetings than any of them.

Were my actions really that wrong? Was my affliction really that bad?

On the surface, my dick seemed to add a ridiculous amount of joy to each girl's existence. But heroin did the same thing for drug addicts, and that never ended well.

The guilt was driving me batty. If only the universe would give me a sign. Good or bad. Yay or Nay.

Three days later, the sign arrived.