Smutember is almost over, and here is one more piece from me. This one is quite close to my heart, but I will tell you why in my end notes instead, lol. This has been a fun ride – but don't fret. The Lemon Tree Series is independent of smutember, and I will continue it on, even if definitely not in the updating speed as during smutember. Also, there are still quite a number of tropes on the smutember trope list that I am at least considering to try out and write – so if you want to see anything in particular, please let me know, because that's always the biggest motivator for me to write anything!
Anyway, my always-thanks to my beta UglyGreenJacket, who betas for me even during her TWO FULL TIME JOBS, and also for everyone who has reviewed during smutember! Thank you guys so much for the fuel to keep me going, I appreciate you in ways that are hard to put into appropriate words!
ANYWAY HAVE FUN!
Minako, Sex Educator
A Short Story in the Lemon Tree Series, Written For Smutember 2019
Because of the inevitable nature of it, Chiba Mamoru quite often found himself in the company of one Aino Minako.
Be it at the Crown sitting almost mute in close proximity to his sunshine girlfriend, or studying in peace next to the most comfortable of all study companions, Ami. Afternoons at Hikawa, evenings at the Tsukino household, Sunday strolls at the park, private and formerly romantic dates at cozy cafes or noisy establishments - Aino Minako had a talent of showing up out of thin air and then stubbornly sticking around, like a particular brand of annoying poltergeist in Mamoru's life.
And she had a favorite topic.
"Ok, so can we talk about penetration?" Minako said in the way one might swing the topic around to outrageous pizza toppings or people who should not have pets, loud and clear for a group of strangers who sat in the booth over to swing their heads around to her.
"Oh joy," Mamoru remarked sarcastically, being completely ignored, and immediately fished a book from his bag.
The annoyed groans were long history, he couldn't even remember the last time Ami uttered her formerly trademark, blushingly hissed 'Minako!' as she looked around. Nowadays, Minako barely earned an eye roll from the girls, and apparently the duty today fell to Rei to shoot her with a look and a "Really?", and both he and Ami simply flipped open their respective books and checked out of the conversation.
At least he pretended to. The books were mostly for hiding in his case.
"Like seriously," Minako went on, completely unperturbed, and stole the decorative orange slice off Ami's smoothie glass and began to pick it apart. "Why exactly is porn ONLY penetration? Penetrating everything. It's so exhausting watching all these sore vaginas. You just wanna give these poor girls a hot bath and some gentle tongue."
"Minako!" Ami elbowed her finally, scandalized.
Well, maybe the groans weren't completely history. Mamoru blushed, scooted a little in his seat, earning a curious look from Usagi next to him, and held his book a little higher.
"Actually, I wonder about this too…" Makoto said with an apologetic shrug, picking at her sandwich, and Minako shook her orange peel in her direction with a 'Thank you,' motion, before continuing.
"Anyway, I think all men are brainwashed, and we need to do something about it," Minako concluded, and Mamoru lifted both eyebrows behind his book, but said nothing.
(He'd long since learned his lesson and no longer started complaining about Minako's gross overgeneralisations and, since he knew she didn't actually mean any harm, instead chose to not react to anything anymore that started with 'all men'… Not that he ever said a lot in these conversations anyway.)
"I mean, clearly it's porn that teaches them it's all about the penetration, right? Surely they can't learn this from experience?" Minako went on, Makoto nodding along. "And isn't that so stupid? It's not where the money lies and at the same time it makes them so anxious too… Like, are they gonna last? Are they gonna come too fast? Can they be all pornstar about it this one time? They're working themselves up so much over it that it sucks out all the fun for them, too? When it's like, the most overrated thing in all of sex?!"
It was these conversations that he was keenly aware of everything his girlfriend was doing. And right now, she was nodding along with a little shrug, and it made his mind run off with it and this information and recount every single time they'd ever had sex to see what he was doing wrong.
I mean, he did penetrate… Like, of course he alternated… but, was he doing it wrong?
Rei rolled her eyes, mumbled something about this being the 'stupid foreplay discussion' all over again, just the other way around, and Minako threw her a quick, appalled look but promptly continued fully unperturbed.
"Sure, it can be magic, but… c'mon who of you gets off ONLY on penetration, like, usually?" Minako threw into the round. Ami's book went up like a shield, though clearly Makoto was completely invested in this conversation at this point judging by the force of her nods, while Rei and Usagi could count as quite unfazed, shrugging. "And when you do, it takes FOREVERRR like this, like who the fuck wants that as their only meal all the time? Everything in consideration, you know?"
"Moderation," Ami corrected, mumbling, and Minako waved it off.
He exhaled slowly. He wasn't doing this wrong. He was using his hands and his mouth and positions that stimulated her clit, and he knew Usagi had fun—
The boys one booth over weren't even pretending not to listen anymore, faces bright red and staring at each other as if Minako was opening their eyes to a truth that should have been quite obvious or maybe never uttered.
"Yup," a different voice jumped in, and Mamoru physically jumped, though really, he should know better. Unazuki had appeared at their booth out of nowhere, ignoring the other patrons and thunking a tray full of drinks on their table, none of which were for them. "In fact, I had the best sex of my life with a dude who could barely get it up!"
"Yes! Thank you!" Minako exclaimed, waving at Unazuki in a 'best example'- way. "Same. I swear I was so relieved this one time when I was kinda sore anyway and this one dude was like SUPER nervous, said he had like, an erectile dysfunction or something and comes too fast during penetration?"
Meanwhile, Mamoru and Ami did that weird dance in which they suddenly switched. Ami apparently had grown comfortable enough to come out of hiding and rested her chin in her palm in interest while Mamoru now was the one slowly disappearing further and further down the bench and into his book. It was terrifying, and yet he would never admit exactly how educational these conversations tended to be, which somehow made it worse.
If Minako ever found out just how much of his skill came from these conversations, he would go up in flames and die immediately. She could never, ever find out.
And the things Aino Minako had accidentally taught him this way were almost innumerable. The sheer number of tricks he'd learned this way, yet would never in a million lifetimes admit to willingly…
Kissing is a job for both hands.
Foreplay starts long before the first touch and also is a stupid word.
The good lovers are those who know how to massage.
There's no patch of skin incapable of tingling if stroked slow and sensually.
Setting totally matters.
Adjust pressure, depth and speed to how fast your partner is panting - be it a kiss or a dick.
Curled fingers and knuckles casually stroking against the Magic Spots (aka skin folds – anything from the wrinkles on the inside of the wrist or the back of the knee, panty lines, the underside of a breast, to even just the soft skin between fingers) are 'mewlworthy' and 'get the horn on'.
Curling your fingers down there is a job well done.
If you forget the clit you might as well go home.
The most sensitive nerves are located directly at the entrance of the vagina – going all the way back out does way more than going absolutely deep.
Spread her ass a little; she'll feel you more.
Superior men eat out regularly and willingly.
'Bend her over when you bend her over': If you arch her back with your hand when pushing in from behind, it makes you go way deeper, way slicker, way more 'badaboom'. (Minako liked to illustrate this with grand hand gestures and acrobatic body contortions and a weirdly slowed-down and enunciated pronunciation that always made him roll his eyes behind the book of choice he was currently hiding behind and pretending to read.)
Sometimes a girl just wants to feel a bit of fingernails.
Hickeys are undervalued.
So is lube. Everything is more intense with lube.
Support her weight. Hands under butt, thighs over shoulders, an arm across her collarbone when coming in from the backdoor.
And, newly, apparently,
Penetration is totally overrated anyway.
Mamoru's entire and way too successful trick box in getting his girlfriend off consisted of Aino Minako's wisdom and if anyone ever discovered this fact, he would die in a rather overdramatic puddle of embarrassment.
"You know," Minako continued, gesticulating wildly, "This dude felt so bad about this, he did ALL the works. Before there was any dick even in sight, he'd done it all, super attentive."
Unazuki gave an appreciative sigh, and Mamoru held his book a little higher.
"Hands, mouth, the whole, delicious, amazing program, and he did it really well and even when I was like panting for his cock he only inserted the tip, totally shallowly, and kept pulling out and doing that delicious swirl thing and I swear when he finally came in deep I came ON THE SPOT."
Minako's hands by this point were up in the air and the boys in the next booth looked like they were having a stroke. Obviously, the person who might have put an end to this or sent them off the premises for public indecency was standing right beside them and wolf-whistling Minako along. Unazuki really had questionable work-morals, sometimes.
"And so did he, like, three strokes afterwards, and was then so embarrassed over it that that he KEPT APOLOGIZING! Can you believe this? Dude did EVERYTHING right and he was NEAR TEARS ashamed because he thought he'd done me a great disservice just because he thought it was a big deal that he couldn't poke me long enough. How did we let it get to this point, how?!"
She banged her latte glass on the table in her worked up outrage.
"I don't think I personally let it get to this point," Rei deadpanned.
"Well, someone must have!" Minako ranted, wriggling the orange peel at Rei now, who grabbed it from her hand with an annoyed eye roll and threw it into her empty lemonade glass.
Usagi slurped her milkshake, and when her eyes found his, checking in on him, he tried so hard not to blush and just give her a nonchalant shrug instead. It somehow seemed to work, and she scooted a little closer into his side as he lifted up one arm to allow her into his side, then draped it over the booth behind and around her.
"Why this obsession?" Minako went on. "Why does the average guy seem to think he has to pound into me for half an hour for him to be good in bed? It must be the porn! He came hard, I came hard, and I swear it was a fucking blessing. He was so attentive. So...so... That TONGUE I'm telling you. Boys with cock insecurities they give such good—"
"Right," Rei interrupted her. "We get it, go on."
"How many boys with 'cock insecurities' have you had sex with?" Unazuki asked.
Minako shrugged. "Just the one. He was the guy I met at that party last Saturday?"
A chuckle from Makoto and a snort from Rei. "Right. So, 'this one time' was last night, then?"
"Well, maybe two or three. Sometimes you just never find out," Minako added with a shrug, ignoring the comment.
Makoto huffed and picked a tomato out of her sandwich. It squished a little as she bit on it.
"Do they think that though?" Usagi asked with a thoughtful, far-away frown, and Mamoru was immediately relieved that she had her doubts.
"'They'?" Makoto asked.
"I mean not all, obviously, but like, a lot of guys? Do they think that? That penetration is everything?"
He was so, so, so relieved at her confused, disbelieving look. So, so, so relieved. And so finally, he could snap his book shut and lean back and move his arm from the back of the booth down to her shoulder with the kind of relieved sigh that he painfully tried to mask over into a blank and not at all self-satisfied look.
"I mean surely most people know most porn is far from actual enjoyable sex?" Usagi said with a frown.
Minako, Makoto and Unazuki both gave her the same kind of look as if it were rehearsed. The same kind of tilted, 'Oh you lucky, naïve little flower'-look that boosted his ego more than he'd ever be prepared to admit.
If it weren't for the sigh and heavy double pat that Unazuki gave his shoulder that caused him to directly flush again.
"Well, most people only ever see other sex in porn, right?" Makoto ventured, receiving an encouraging nod from Minako. "And then if no one ever talks about it? And it looks like typical cis-guys especially don't actually really talk about it? And then so often their partners feel too awkward too and never really tell them either? What else are they supposed to think, I guess?"
Minako's chin met her palm in a sad huff.
Mamoru frowned. Because yes, while he hated finding himself in these overgeneralized conversations, he was pretty sure, if these girls didn't talk about 'it' this often, he'd be one of the ones they were complaining about.
"Oh..." Usagi blinked, looked back at Minako for answers. "But… but... really?!"
Minako leaned back. "Well *I* don't know?" She shrugged. "Ask a man!"
Usagi's eyes whipped up to his in expectation, and he raised his arms in immediate surrender and fear, shaking his head slowly.
He was not going to analyze his porn-watching history with Minako. No way. Not in a million years.
Minako snorted. "Oh, he doesn't count."
While Mamoru just shrugged (and to be honest, knowing that in conversations about 'all men did…' he apparently didn't actually 'count' as male was mostly kind of a relief), Usagi's face flushed in cutest, sweetest appallment, and he refrained from squeezing her shoulder. "Why does he not count?" she bit out, sounding a little bit like an enraged baby chick.
"Oh c'mon," Rei cut in, and it was at this point that he finally started feeling a tiny bit insulted, too. "You know he doesn't count."
Usagi's face was all the fury and she rose a little in her seat. "What?!"
Mamoru cleared his throat, and Minako's eyes whipped to his, and he froze.
"Well, no, actually, he does count," she said, eyes fixed on him.
While Mamoru stiffened in alarm, Usagi settled back down, leaning back against his arm in immediate appeasement… until Minako continued.
"I mean, have you ever heard him actually say something in these conversations?" she said, eyes still on him, calling him out, eyebrows raised in challenge.
And then all eyes were on him, even Ami's, and he tried not to shrink back. Instead, he flipped his book back open uncomfortably.
Minako leant back languidly and crossed her arms over her chest slowly, all the victory in her smirk. "Point proven," she said. "This vanilla cookie doesn't talk about sex either."
Mamoru grumbled a little into his book, even when Usagi exploded on his behalf next to him.
But he listened. He listened very, very attentively.
Pretty much during the year he was inconvenienced due to his own death, Minako seemed to have lost her filter. So, to him, returning to the land of the star-seed-holding, it had come pretty much as an overnight shock to hear Minako discuss these topics over… anything, really.
(Or maybe it had started that one time she'd accidently two-timed two of their enemies, and he simply hadn't noticed.)
At first, these conversations had been objectively rather tame (even if they'd managed to make him flush even more than those today at the time). Sexual innuendos aplenty, suggestive jokes galore, but mostly rather innocent, given her own inexperience at the time despite her very vocal mouth about it all.
But with the months and years and the day Minako actually had started to put all this theory into action, it had only gotten worse.
The first time he'd started to appreciate it was when he and Usagi had started to put theory into action as well.
He'd been terrified as hell. They'd waited for so long and the threat of making it 'special' loomed over his head so heavily he cursed himself for ever denying Usagi's advances in the past.
And from what he understood it was normal that the first time a couple had sex wasn't all that perfect, but when they were done, and she hadn't 'finished', it had worked him up for days.
The next time Minako had publicly complained about what her last date was doing very wrong (or very right, and why couldn't all people do this particular thing), he'd started listening very, very thoroughly.
The next time they'd had sex was the first time Usagi came. It had felt like the best accomplishment of his life.
And he'd listened even harder.
"He totally, totally forgot the setting, you know? Didn't get it at all!" Minako had said that one time, running her finger across the rim of her wineglass creating a melodic sound over the noise of Edward's annual ball he'd taken them to once again and just as quickly regretted, especially considering the crowd of young men around their bistro table that had formed. "Foreplay doesn't start with touching. It starts with smelling incredible – freshly showered, clean shampoo smell. It starts with a smart look and sexy banter, and really good lighting. Ya know, dimmed, give a girl the chance to imagine that maybe he can't see that flaw she feels uncomfortable about that you'd never see. Then flirt her pants off and that better be soft and sexy sheets on your bed, and your girl will get the horn even before you lay a single finger on her."
After that day he'd been asked for Minako's number almost in every single of his classes, and he'd also ordered egyptian cotton sheets and new dimmable lamps, thank you very much.
Or that time, pretty early on, they'd all sat at Hikawa's steps eating ice pops and Yuichiro nearly choked when Minako arrived and didn't say hello, instead she ranted clear across the place,
"God, I swear if I have ONE MORE DATE with a guy who expects me to wantonly groan upon seeing his dick, I'm gonna spray paint this onto Tokyo Tower." She'd stopped, pressed one hand into her hip with an annoyed frown, and wiped her hand across an imaginary surface, eyes following. "PORN LIES. TOUCH A CLIT."
Of course, he'd 'touched a clit' before that. Of course. But he would lie if he didn't admit he'd been pretty embarrassed that night when he was researching that even as a medical student, he had never been taught how big an organ the clitoris actually was. And in how many different ways one could stimulate it.
Usagi had been a very, very willing test subject that and all the following nights, and he'd stopped just assuming what Usagi liked and had started asking.
Or that time they'd stood in line at the taiyaki stand at that one spring festival in Ikebukuro, and Minako had almost the entire queue around them flushed bright red in seconds, including him and definitely poor Shingo, who'd at that point visibly started regretting coming along.
"Like those dudes that think sex is over once they came? Never ever again, bye bye, off you go. Out the window, for all I care. I mean, it's the absolute lowest bar to clear," she'd said loudly to Usagi in front of them, fishing for a watermelon slice in her plastic cocktail flute with her little cocktail umbrella, and then trying to not let it drip onto her bright orange patterned yukata. "Like, c'mon, be at least a little invested in your partner's pleasure? And don't expect a fucking medal? Newsflash, it's common decency to see that your current sex partner is getting off, too."
Conversations like these, even while he was secretly endlessly thankful for them, had often turned him into an anxious mess for days on end – like wondering what Usagi contributed to these conversations when he wasn't there with her, and if he managed to clear all the bars.
He really tried really, really hard to clear all the bars, he really did.
Or if there were fantasies or concerns that she shared with the girls but not with him… Not that he would blame her for it in the least bit. Her sexuality was something he got to share, but that didn't mean he was entitled to be the only person who heard about it, or even the first. He knew that. Besides, the very fact that he spent so much time mutely worrying about these things was proof enough he had some concerns he wasn't sharing with her either.
But he was still worried. He just… He wanted to be really, really good for her.
Needless to say, he gradually went a little easier on the penetration following about a week after that newest conversation (with the delay just to be not too suspicious.)
After all, it was quite seldom that Minako's 'tips' didn't hit the mark…
Like the massage thing…
Previously to that particular conversation, he'd already been able to give at least a half decent massage. He'd already long been the master of foot massages practically since the day she'd gotten those scars via Nehelenia on his behalf, and performed them all the time. And he'd massaged her back for weeks on end when Usagi was writing her final exams. Had looked up face massages when she had that spell of headaches for months after Galaxia. And he'd already long loved the way she'd mewl when he worked out a kink or touched an obviously particularly enjoyable spot. But...
He knew he'd taken that particular Minako-advice to absurd heights, that he was completely overdoing it. Plus, he really could have just booked a course, but that would have meant either practicing massages on a stranger (oh, oh, no way) or opening up to what he was doing and asking Usagi to join him for a class. So instead, being the superhero evil-and-crimefighting coward that he was, he'd gotten a bunch of books and bought a ton more of those he couldn't get from the library, and studied overtly complicated descriptions of anything from Thai Massage to Reflexology and secretly practiced on Usagi.
But it had all been worth it when he'd started hearing these gasps.
Like when he'd ask her to hold on to his hands with a hoarse whisper to the shell of her ear when he was buried deep within her from behind, and then pull her arms back, arching her over abruptly and thrusting her chest out while popping all the kinks out of her shoulders all at once – all while he was filling her up and going harder and deeper with every thrust and this delicious angle… 'Bend her over when you bend her over'; he'd mastered that and brought it to new heights and when her eyes would widen in that mesmerizing, addicting way, and she'd then shout when she came, he was so stupidly proud it was ridiculous.
No one was asking him to do this, no. In fact, he'd be mortified if anyone found out the lengths that he was willing to go. But trying to find out ALL the ways he could make her sound, all the ways he could make her whimper and gasp and come on him, was like a drug of almost scientific curiosity and damn he was willing to put in the work.
He was pretty sure there wasn't a single physiotherapist on the planet that would be able to massage Usagi better than he could nowadays. And it really made a difference during sex, knowing all her pressure points, all the ways he could make her untense with just a flick of his fingers.
And so… this one was worth a try, too.
Even if this one was kind of a painful one.
It was one thing to make it a habit to curl his fingers inside of her occasionally or to stroke slowly behind her knees and across the wrinkles on the inside of her wrists or to spread her buttcheeks apart a little when… …But he really liked being inside of her.
Nevertheless, gradually less cock it was, then.
He'd figured he was probably overdoing it a little again when one afternoon, about four weeks later, during tea at one of those fancy places Rei liked, Minako was giving him 'I see what you're doing'-eyes over sencha and wagashi.
Oh god no.
So, terrified he was doing it wrong, he decided to put in all the stops that night.
He sent Usagi to get snacks at the conbini around the corner and sprinted up ahead, and while she was left alone over the agonizing and lengthy choice between strawberry shortcake and lemon sponge rolls in Family Mart, he'd dimmed all the lights, lit vanilla scented candles on his windowsill beside the bed, dressed his bed in every large towel that he owned, and stripped down to his underwear.
Massage. Back to what works.
She arrived with a wide smile and five boxed slices because she couldn't decide and a turn of her own key (which he still didn't understand why it made her so happy even years after the fact), and then stopped rooted and gaping on his green rug when she spotted the set-up and him, sitting on the bed with crossed legs and the simple brown apothecary bottle filled with her favorite shea and orange blossom massage oil concoction.
She stood opening her mouth and closing it again, biting her lip in that way he would always be able to read – hesitant but wanting, fighting an internal, invisible debate.
"You don't have to do this, Mamo-chan," she finally settled on, but slowly padded towards him, so close he had to crane his neck for once.
"I want to," he whispered easily.
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he slowly uncrossed his legs and bent forward to settle the bottle of massage oil next to the bed, then took the plastic bag from her strong grip on it and placed it next to it.
When he met her eyes again, steady and silent and waiting, the dim lighting casting shadows across her, she was already breathing harder.
She liked seeing him half naked like this. That was something that hadn't been all that hard to learn. And he drank up the visible effect he had on her greedily; her dilated pupils, the way her chest lifted a little higher as she breathed more deeply, the way her eyes kept straying down to the V-shape formed by his abdomen and hip bones, protruding from his boxer briefs, as well as the slightly hollowed, convex dip of his inner thighs as he spread them around her.
He spread his thighs and it was like magnetism – she stepped into the space between his legs as if pulled there, and his hands stroked slowly up her tights and underneath her skirt, his fingers gliding up the smooth fabric easily, and he could see all the debate had left her eyes.
Yet he stilled at the waistband of her soft, sheer black pantyhose, his hands hovering at her waist beneath her impossibly soft, loose and warm, knitted dress and waited.
He didn't have to wait for long. Her eyes flashed as if something imploded in her and her own hands flew beneath her dress and lift it up, exposing simple, shadowed, rust colored cotton that shone under the dim, warm light and against her creamy, milky skin, and he moaned a little and leant forward to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss against her elongating, arching ribcage, as she stretched to lift her woolen dress over her head, and he pushed his hands into her tights and dragged them slowly, slowly down her hips.
By the time her dress hit the floor he'd peeled the sheer fabric halfway down her glorious thighs with a reverent sigh, and moved from his perch on the edge of his bed to his knees in one single, fluid movement to complete his task devotedly.
One lifted, perfect calf after the other and she was stepping out of the miniscule scrap of pooled fabric that he threw in the general direction of her dress, holding one calf slightly aloft still as he spread it to the side, opening her up, and pressed another smacking, heated kiss to the inside of her thigh. It had the effect he'd aimed for – a shiver that left goosebumps in its wake that he could only smirk at, and he made sure to brush her panties with his nose as he rose from his perch on his knees and slowly walked around her.
When he'd moved behind her, so close that they touched, so close she could feel his erection through the cotton fabric of his own underwear at the small of her back and she arched it against him in almost automatic reaction, he reveled in the way she slightly shivered when he stroked his hands ever so slowly and softly up both sides of her hypersensitive throat, lifting her hair, then stroked back down and back to her shoulder blades and lower. Licked his lips at the small noise she made when his fingers moved beneath her bra straps and back out, tracing the fabric slowly down to the clasp at the middle of her back. Moved his cheek against her temple and watched with a shiver of his own how, when he undid the clasp of the soft, non-wired cotton bra and stroked it off of her, her nipples hardened as they were exposed to the air, even though he had just brushed the sides of her breasts ever barely with his knuckles.
She inhaled through her nose and exhaled audibly through her puckered mouth, and he knew she was turned on and it traveled straight to his cock.
How easy it would be. How easy it would be to wound his arm around her collarbone and take out his cock and wedge her panties aside and slip it between those plump, pretty cheeks of her ass to stroke it along her folds and then bend her over his bed and pound her into that mattress until she came. And god, now that he wasn't supposed to, he didn't want anything more.
He puffed a breath out that stirred the hair of her fringe and instead slipped his hands into her panties and squeezed both buttcheeks almost desperately before he grabbed hold of the fabric and nudged it down her thighs just that little bit until they fell.
Usagi's little sigh, the way she bared her neck and snuggled her face against his as she bit her lip was the kind of sight he wanted to see forever, and he lifted one hand to brush it up her throat and chin and inhaled the scent of her hair as he held her to him.
"Lie down," he breathed down her neck, enjoying the thrill of the shiver it elicited from her once more.
She nodded breathlessly, excited, and crawled onto the toweled bed in a way that stuck her ass out and once again his cock throbbed painfully because he wanted to rip off his underwear and fuck her silly and he couldn't, and the thought of sitting on her ass and not ultimately slipping into her suddenly seemed an impossible task and so he almost shouted his, "Wait!"
She stopped immediately looked over her shoulder in that way with those half-lidded, expectant eyes that almost ended him right there, and he had to clear his throat.
"Sit instead. On your knees," he said. Soft and questioning and no more than a whisper, but without taking her eyes off him, she lowered her pretty, pretty, pink bum slowly onto her heels.
Squeezing his eyes shut ever so briefly, he settled in behind her, his own knees encasing her form and he regretted the position again immediately, and scooted back just ever so slightly because if she just so much as wriggled her toes they would brush against his crotch. With jerky movements he resettled and moved to his knees behind her, too, instead, and, trying to breathe normally, he bent over and reached for the brown glass bottle beside the bed.
Usually he'd start with her legs (because he really, really loved her legs) and work his hands firmly down her calves, wrapping his long fingers around the long, graceful limbs completely and pulling and pushing firmly until she moaned, but in this position, he had to start with her arms instead.
He was weirdly nervous, unscrewing the rubber topper off the vintage bottle, dipping oil into one hand. Suddenly everything felt loud. The creak of his mattress as he moved, the gulping sound of the oil moving in the bottle as he tipped it over, the high, pattering sound of his fingernails against the glass. The wood of his floors clanked a bit when he placed the open bottle back down, and the sound of the oil rubbing, swishing, almost whispering across his palms as he rubbed them together to warm it up sounded almost foreign he was so conscious of the sound.
The sound stayed, became just a little calmer, when he rubbed his hands firmly into the crooks between her shoulders and her collarbone first, then squeezed and rubbed them down her arms. It was joined by the sound of her sudden, deep inhale and slow exhale, the huff of breath that was almost a moan when he rubbed down all the way to her hands with firm pressure.
He repeated the action from time to time, retrieving the bottle for more oil – just so much that it would be absorbed by her skin easily and slip so beautifully, and he quickly found his rhythm. His chest swelled over the fact that he had her lick her lips and sigh softly and squirm in minutes, rubbing and kneading and squeezing her smooth skin firmly, now even smoother with the oil and smelling so very pleasantly. She moaned appreciatively when his thumbs rubbed into the kinks between her shoulder blades, pinching them, rolling them, smoothing them out, mewled in that sweet, addicting way when his hands rubbed up her neck to the back of her head, kneading and rotating until it all went slack in his hands, sighed deeply when he pulled at her fingers, relaxing all her joints one by one, bit her lip when he rubbed with firm pressure from the small of her back and around her hips and down her inner thighs when she immediately spread her knees for him and his palms.
The squish of his oily hands on her skin and her quiet mewls the only sound between them, he greedily leaned closer, hovering so he wouldn't miss a single sigh, rising over her on his knees and changing the angles and the way his bare chest occasionally brushed against her naked back – she shuddered every time that happened.
He couldn't get enough, though. Hearing her approval in those soft sounds was all he really ever wanted, and it was downright silly how much it turned him on, how much it reassured him.
Shifting, he moved back into his original position and bit his own lip when his knees locked around her and his erection pressed against her butt, and his hands wandered in slow, deliberate, pressing motions around to her midriff, rubbing just below her breast and lifting to stroke in softer, gentler motions.
In just a few stroked he had her collapsed in his arms, his lips at her throat and then his whole face in the crook of her neck and he was breathing harshly down her front as his slick, oily fingers brushed the sensative skin folds underneath her breasts only to rub his palms back down her belly in firm strokes and back to her inner thighs and the junction of her legs just ever so slightly without downright touching her sex.
She squirmed in his arms, one arm lifting straight up and back around her to fly into his hair, gripping it tightly at the back of his head and he moaned down her neck, and with the next squirm she lifted her butt off her heels and back against him.
She ended up in his lap in a position that was almost painful and he leaned a little further back but she followed, moaning., her slick back arching and rubbing against his chest and his breathing grew labored as she pressed back against his erection, and he was starting to worry, because nothing sounded sweeter to him at this moment than the nagging voice in the back of his mind that urged him to just get rid of his underwear and let her squirm until he just naturally slipped inside.
To be fair, this really wouldn't be so agonizing at all if he didn't feel like what he wanted was forbidden.
Instead, he rubbed one hand back up her abdomen and belly and ribs, and she arched her back to fill his hands and keened when this time, he didn't stop at the underside of her breast but rubbed the oil into the soft, creamy mound.
"Mamo-chan," she finally begged in that broken voice that caused him to twitch against her butt, when his hand left her front abruptly. But it returned with the open bottle and this time, he let the oil drip freely and cold from the glass and let it drip in slow droplets directly onto one nipple first, the other next, and two more from the dip between her collarbones to slide like raindrops down between her heaving chest.
Her moan was low and deep when both hands returned to her body, one moving slick, slick, slick across her breasts, the other between her legs.
Firm, slow, pulling, kneading in the way he'd learned from her, his palm brushing her nipple and his fingers running in that weird mix of strong and gentle and tender and slick and firm all at once along her oily flesh and he rubbed his cheek against her, panting right along with an open mouth, when she let her head lull back into the crook of his neck, baring her throat and gasping at the ceiling while he looked down her body and his hands on her pink breasts. His other hand, meanwhile, stroked his middle finger between her lips and found her wet and slick and ready, and kept stroking softly, up and down, up and down, not quite touching her clit but almost, even as she moved her pelvis to urge him for something deeper. His lips smacked loudly as he wetted them, but even when his erection throbbed painfully against her writhing ass, he managed to not move his hips a fraction.
He sighed in that pained, aroused way, when her sounds turned into soft, frustrated growls and her squirms lifted her ass and rubbed against his boxer briefs harshly. And even when he couldn't keep from hissing down her neck, watching his hands stroke along her slit and chest, he didn't move his hips.
And then her hand snuck around to his underwear and he had to inhale sharply and squeeze his eyes shut, and he throbbed and leaked against her palm, so painfully hard and no, he didn't move, not a bit, before he finally found the willpower to move his hand off her chest to her immediate protesting wine and slapped her hand away. Yet, he didn't move back either, when she pressed her ass back against his cock insistently.
"Mamo-chan," she half-groaned, half-groaned.
"This is about you," he whispered in her ear in a somewhat apologetic voice, and finally flicked his finger across her clit, his other hand returning to the underside of her breast.
"What if I want it?" she panted harshly.
He said nothing, but swirled two fingers around her clit and gobbled up her gasp.
But she trembled, full body, when his fingers pulled at one nipple firmly, and her hips moved right off the bed and heavily back into his lap.
With a harsh exhale, his hand reached back out. Not to the bottle this time, but the small tube beside it, and the sound this time was the soft click of a plastic flab and a squeeze, and from the way she tensed she knew what it was. He couldn't keep the smirk off his lips, revelling like a glutton in the fact he'd managed to condition her to a bloody sound, make her lick her lips to just the sound of lube being squeezed onto his fingers.
When his fingers returned to her sex they were coated in it, and when they softly stroked down her folds they made her already soaked lips even slicker, and he grinned too smugly at the way her mouth puckered into that tight 'o' and the way she exhaled, and the sweet, delicious, smacking sounds his fingers made against her vulva when he rubbed them in tight movements against the sensitive nerves at just the entrance of her vagina before moving back up to tightly swirl around her nub.
This time, though, when she frantically reached for him, he didn't have the willpower to deny her and grit his teeth stubbornly when she pulled his cock out of his boxers.
Don't move, don't move, don't move.
He didn't. She did, though. And when her squirming became too much, and she pulled her weight onto her calves, stemming herself up to hover on his cock, he managed, he didn't move a single bit except for his wrists and fingers, circling her clit with oiled fingers in tight, fast circles that drove her into a writhing, panting mess under his hands.
If he could just make her come like this before she—
He groaned, eyes widening, when she grabbed his cock and positioned it at her entrance, but when she moved to lower himself on him (shit please yes), he instead pulled her whole body down on him and collapsed on the mattress. His cock was still at her hole, but this angle made it harder for her, her back flush against his chest, imprisoned on top of him by his hands on her clit and her ribcage.
She whined, loudly and prolonged, even when she writhed on top of him and bucked against his hand and his jumping, throbbing cock—
But then her walls contracted and he temporarily lost the battle because they fluttered against the tip of his cock that touched her still and it was just one tiny, involuntary, buck of slip-up but he pushed in. Just the tip, just barely, but they both cried out and she clenched hard around him as if to hold him prisoner, squeezing her pelvic floor as hard as she could or so it seemed, and he almost came on the spot with just his head barely inside of her.
He didn't. He managed. He didn't pull out, but he stilled his hips, grit his teeth, breathed harshly through his mouth against her temple, her hair tickling his face as he watched her come undone as he increased the speed of his fingers swirling harshly around and around her clit.
He could do this. He could.
Her thighs fell open wider against his knees and her back arched off his chest, the back of her head digging into his collarbone and he let his own head fall back against the mattress and the towels on it, his wrist starting to cramp in their jerky movements, his other hand at her hip in a deathgrip to keep her from bouncing on his cock, to keep her from doing what he really, really wanted her to do, and he squeezed his eyes shut and audibly cursed at the ceiling.
She squirmed harder, he held tighter. The result were shallow, rubbing motions against his tip as it slipped around the slick flesh and rubbed against her entrance but never thrusting fully in because he stubbornly pressed his own ass firmly into the mattress and managed to hold her firmly aloft by his hands on her hips and her clit.
And then she shouted at him and it was pretty much over.
"Oh god, I swear fucking MOVE, Mamo-cha—"
With one buck of his hips he slammed inside of her, deep, deep, deep, and she keened. But his fingers moved even quicker and he found his resolve even when he groaned harshly and just stayed there.
It was an amazing feeling, to be honest. The way her walls frantically clenched and squeezed at him, the way she bucked to make him move, the slick, miniscule slip of her vagina against his cock as she contracted her pelvic muscles to expel him or drag him deeper inside or both and for a second he marveled at the fact that he'd never felt this before in this way, in all their years together like this.
She growled and moved her hips even when his hold around her was so so tight and her wriggle moved him in her just that tiny little bit, but his fingers kept swirling and suddenly she went slack in his arms, all muscled tensed and hard and gummy all at once, and the delicious sensation of filling her to the brim was just too much, he was so fucking close when she started to twitch on top of him and her walls clenched even harder, pushing him out, and her mouth went slack and her head hit his chest and he allowed himself one single thrust back inside her that made her whimper as he rubbed her startingly intense orgasm out, fast and tight and firm around her clit.
He was painfully, achingly hard and shaking with need when she unravelled on his chest, bonelessly collapsing, breathing returning to normal slowly and harshly, and when she tilted her head up to where he was curled around her, she looked at him like he was her world and it made him whimper and his cock quiver in her pitifully.
His hands flew in a tight grip to her hips and he was halfway through flipping her onto her stomach and fucking her into those bloody towels, when he caught himself and wrenched his throbbing cock out of her and his throat created the most pitiful whine he'd ever made.
"No! Mamo-chan, you—" she started in protest, turning, but he got up with her still on him and moved his hands underneath her knees and back to lift her clean of the best and her protest changed into utter confusion.
"Mamo-chan, what the hell—"
His cock was so hard it hurt, and it painfully bopped as he all but ran them into his bathroom, deposited her on her feet in the shower and turned the handle until hot water cascaded around them, drenching them.
Usagi looked at him as if he'd gone insane.
But her hair, getting wetter and wetter, and the way her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks as she blinked at him in utter bewilderment—
He made that same pitiful noise again, curled in on himself and dropped his forehead on her shoulder as he grabbed his cock and started rubbing himself in frantic, aggressively fast and firm strokes, his lips wrapping helplessly against her skin in a silent scream.
But her soft, tender hands on his cheek made him still and squeeze his cock in startlement as she drew her face away from her shoulder so she could look at him in stern, gentle reprimand.
"Mamo-chan." Her voice was almost scolding, and he peered at her lost and wound-so-tightly and oh so desperately.
He was close. So, so very close. SO close he could taste it on his tongue, and yet he obediently stilled his hand at her tone, his cheeks cupped by her hands, the water pittering around them both, slicking her hair so prettily against her naked body.
"I'm going to blunt here," she said with a strong voice and a little squish of his cheeks by her hands and he swallowed.
"This is endlessly hot," she said with a stern frown that absolutely contradicted her sentiment and then flicked her eyes down at his cock and his hand. "Especially this. Seeing you like this. But."
Her eyebrows furrowed even harder and she gave him the look. (And he hated a little that his overstimulated, weeping cock reacted forcefully to it, jumping as if to say hi, yes, please, more.)
She said the following words as if she couldn't believe she had to spell it out for him, pronouncing every word clearly and accompanying them with her heavy, heavy gaze.
"I love your dick," she said, and it twitched in his hand as if to say, 'yeah, I love you, too', even when he swallowed, his mouth dry under the spray of the shower. "And I love it when your dick is in me. Do you hear me?"
He exhaled in sweet, beautiful relief and sacked a little against her, but then she continued talking.
"Don't listen to every little thing Minako says, ok?" she said with a heavy frown, shaking his cheeks just that little bit in vehemence.
Oh god. Oh, shit.
And just like that, his heart thundered in embarrassment at being caught (because of course Usagi would see what he was doing, how could she not), and he flushed hot and fierce and his cock shriveled in his hands at once.
He let it go as if burned and it plopped sad and flaccid with a little bounce back down against his balls with a wet little slap.
His blood relocated hot and warm and fast into his face and neck and ears. Her eyes changed their hue abruptly into surprised and concerned, as if this was not the kind of reaction she had anticipated at all, and she blinked in confusion once more, even when he brought his own hands up to slip hers from his face and curl them with his as he studied the floor of his shower and the way the water pelted off of it.
"Didn't… don't you like it?" he asked meekly, embarrassed.
"What?!" she bellowed, alarmed. "No, of course I do!"
He frowned at the floor.
Her hands grabbed at his, kneading them together and he swallowed his pride and met her eyes.
"Mamo-chan," she started, eyes swimming in concern and something else. "I came like really really damn hard right there," she implored, and he licked his lips. "Like, so delicious I want to bottle it up and savour it and keep it forever, ok?"
He inhaled and frowned some more.
Usagi tilted her head, bouncing onto her toes a little and he grabbed her hands a little harder, because he might be embarrassed to the bone right now, but this was still Usagi, and a wet shower floor, and he wanted to be prepared if she fell.
"I'm just saying you really don't need to do this. I mean it…" she said slowly.
He nodded meekly. Water dripped from his hair and onto her.
Apparently not a sufficient reaction from him; she continued with that lowered brow.
"Don't get me wrong," she said, and stroked her thumb against his hand. "I LOVE the fact you're so eager to try everything out directly, but this is… No." She shook her head and found his eyes. "Mamo-chan, this isn't a competition, and this isn't just about me enjoying myself and you worrying."
He met her gaze but said nothing and that still wasn't the right reaction because she frowned harder and shook her head at him, as if willing him to understand something that should be completely obvious.
"And… and…" she started, voice a little higher, a littler quicker, "that's not even what Minako MEANT. She didn't say it's UNimportant. She just said it's not the most important thing! To not worry about it! But you're now very much worrying about it!"
He was. He couldn't deny that.
"Mamo-chan?" Her voice dropped into a plea, with eyes that said, 'please talk to me'.
His voice croaked and shook when he finally answered. "I want to clear all the bars..."
Usagi almost recoiled in confusion. All the question marks in her gaze as she spat out a bewildered "What?"
He shrugged awkwardly, flushing even harder.
"Bars?" she repeated. "What even are you talking about?!"
He sighed hard. The rush of the water made everything sound a little off, and he curled his hand into hers where she was still stroking it and watched the water dribble onto both their hands.
"I want you to enjoy yourself with me," he eventually admitted to their hands. "I don't want to be one of those guys you talk about who only think about their own pleasure..."
He heard a soft little gasp and then her hand was gone and almost slapped against his cheek as she reached to cradle it again.
"Mamo-chan!" Sorrow and alarm and a little bit of 'aww' in that voice now and he cringed.
"But… but…" The second hand came up around his cheek, again, too. "You aren't," she implored. "If anything, you're the opposite. You care more about mine than yours... you're WONDERFUL, you hear me? Don't worry!"
He was a big ball of embarrassed already, so it didn't surprise him how embarrassed he felt over the fact how good that felt to hear.
"I'm very content with what I have, Mamo-chan." She stroked his cheek. "Let me give back, ok? This is a two-way street!"
He frowned again – he was the one confused this time and she shrugged her shoulders, a little blush coloring her cheeks now, too.
"You don't get to hear even a quarter of the things Minako says," Usagi said with a sheepish cringe. "I'm doing all sorts of things too that she keeps going on about. Or I would if you'd let me half the time."
Oh.
Her wet, small hand slipped from his left cheek and to the nape of his neck, curling oh so pleasantly into his wet hair and the sensation curled back into his belly.
She licked her lips and lifted her eyes in that half-suggestive, half-coy, all-adorable way. "I'd like you to relax once in a while and just… enjoy, you know?"
He licked his lips too, his voice coming out a little huskier once more. "I do enjoy you!" he protested.
"I know, I know!" she said. "Just…"
And with that, she slipped fully onto the tips of her toes, tugged at his hair, and then brushed her lips slowly, sensually against his when he came down to meet her in the middle. It elicited a moan from him immediately, and she whispered directly into his mouth.
"Just… enjoy, ok?"
He exhaled against her lips. His small '…ok,' barely audible.
And then she slipped onto her knees and his cock remembered it was really, really frustrated before. It hardened slightly back up in anticipation before her lips ever touched him. She just…. In the shower… Her hair wet and the water cascading around her and the way she looked up at him, and his cock twitched as if it wanted to spare her the trouble and meet her lips halfway.
And when she licked her lips, and her mouth wrapped around him and her tongue flicked out against the slit in his glans in that way that made his breath stutter always, and she grabbed his hands to place them on her head and hair, he briefly wondered if these were things on her list and he'd just never thought about it before…
The thought, and all thought, was gone when he choked on his own saliva as she grazed her teeth against the sensitive veins that ran down his shaft and pressed her finger into the ridged skin just beneath his scrotum and shit.
Too good. Too fast. Nope.
He yanked her back up.
Her eyes were wide when he reached behind her to turn the water off. "What? Did I do something wrong?"
But he just sharply shook his head and bent back to reach around her knees once more.
"Nope, not at all," he said.
And, dripping wet all over his hardwood floors, he lifted her back up and carried her back to bed.
Good thing his bed was still completely covered in towels.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked in his arms.
She bounced off the mattress when he threw her on it.
"Putting my dick in you, Usako."
"Oh," she breathed. And her voice was such pure, saccharine delight that he had to laugh.
And god, pounding into her after he'd refrained from pretty much even going in for three weeks? He was pretty sure it had never felt this good.
So this one was quite close to my heart – as a psychologist with their main field of study in sex research, I'm often in the position to dish out 'tips' to people who struggle in their sexuality, and I get passionate and opinionated about seemingly small things within the field often. In the end tho, it's often important to remember that sexuality is not another thing to perfect and master and check off – yes, it can be so, so beneficial to your own experience of pleasure and your partner's, as well as to close the orgasm gap, to be mindful of a few things one can improve for the sake of their partner, and to make your partner's pleasure an important, mutual prerogative in your sex life. However, in the end, if you come, and your partner comes, and if you're both happy and connected and on the same page (also regardless of if you come or not!), you don't need to strive for 'more', or 'different'. This isn't a race – it's a place of rest and pleasure and connection and savouring each other. If you feel adventurous, that's nice, there's thousands of things you can try out and Minako is mentioning (or Mamoru is reporting) only very few, selected, simple, female-centered suggetions; but if you don't, that's just as valid, and as long as you and your sexual partners are happy and safe, then everything is fine with you – and any adventurous additions into your sex life are just simply a bonus you can but don't have to apply.
There is no pressure supposed to be in this game, only pleasure.
Anyway, I wish you and your sex lives very, very well! If you liked this story, or any of the other smutember stories in our (and other) fandom(s), please consider leaving them a review. That, as well, is not anything you HAVE to do, of course, especially given the nature of the topic that can be quite sensitive for people for a number of very valid reasons. However, if you want to support the writing of such sex positive free content written by a largely female writer-base for a largely female reader-base, please consider cheering them on and motivate them to write such content also outside of events such as smutember. If you find me on tumblr (under the same penname), I've reblogged and compiled lists of all smutember Sailor Moon content on my blog – you can find it under the hashtags #smutember2019, #smutember usamamo fandom corner, #smutember sailor moon fandom. There's some real gems hidden in there, and if you find something you really enjoyed, and want there to be more content like that, please consider dropping them a few lines to validate them in that endeavor! You're going to make their day, I promise, even months, months, months after smutember is done!
Reviews are love!