[Episode 175195] [Episode 175195]
Girls were soft, more sensitive to coolness. Just walking on the sandal heels had ‘him’ aware of the air over ‘his’ smooth flesh, and around ‘his’ generous curves. There was no denying ‘he’ was in a true bod. An exceptional one: How many were as stacked as ‘he’ who were also petite cuties? {That thought had somehow mellowed to more sweetness than bitterness.} It gave ‘him’ a thrill. {Or was it because of the A.C.?}
It was if it were the men’s eyes were caressing ‘him’. {But shouldn’t that have ‘him’ in heat?}
“Your orders, Sirs,” ‘he’ smiled for them as ‘he’ served them down to the low table. With the top useless, ‘his’ watermelon halves {his favorite fruit} dangled freely; giving her sensations that went beyond the hemispheres of perfection. ‘He’ allowed each a feel before moving on to the next customer.
The oldest also felt the inside of a thigh. His hand came back slick and sticky.
“Oh! I must clean that up,” ‘he’ said, using ‘his’ bar towel on ‘his’ shapely legs.
“You needn’t bother. We’re having sushi,” The man smelled his fingers. {As their waitress, Ranma tried not to wrinkle ‘his’ perky nose in disgust. But ‘he’ still didn’t get the connection.}
“Sit down and play hostess.”
{Ranma was about to say that wasn’t part of ‘his’ job description. But this was a “special room” . Indeed, ‘he’ did feel special here. Nothing would please ‘him’ more than to please these men. Or, just perhaps, any man.} “Okay!” ‘he’ giggled.
‘He’ was going to kneel lady-like, but switched to ‘his’ usual way on the way down. The men wouldn’t mind seeing ‘him’ with ‘his’ knees out at the sides. {Yea, ‘he’ was right.} The table was low; unlike the Tendos’, though, this was made of the same crystal clear plastic as the bar top. They could still see everything. Better, in fact. {It sort of magnified, didn’t it? Now, the embarrassment ‘he’ went through having to shave and cream away every hair down there was worth it.}
The small, thin panel of the bikini bottom had ridden down {and in} hardly covering ‘his’ swollen nub at the top of ‘his’ slit {and was digging deeper, making that slit a cleft}. Ranma ran ‘his’ slim fingers along the edges of the panel; by adjusting it, ‘he’ found just how plastered it was to ‘his’ sex by ‘his’ own sweat and juices.
A man on each side scooted closer to ‘him’, until ‘he’ could feel their body heat through their suits. The others started playing footsies and handsies under the table. {And one over the table.}
Ranma’s martial arts’ reflexes started defending ‘his’ honor, though subtly; with squirms, stretches, taps, pokes, and a heel drop. Before the real stuff came out, though, the men got the message the time wasn’t right...yet. Even a girl like this needed a little "courting". After all, she wasn’t being paid for directly; she wasn’t truly a prostitute.
“A drink?” the older {fatherly-type} man suggested.
“Well....” ‘he’ considered it. “It would please you men, wouldn’t it?” She acceded. “Just a sip.”
“From each of our drinks,” the youngest bargained. Five, totally different, hard liquor mixes.
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(Posted Sat, 21 Oct 2006 00:41)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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