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Into the Alley	By : c0p13r Category: +G to L > Kenichi: The Mightiest Disciple Views: 6557 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: i don't own 'Kenichi: The Mightiest Disciple' and i make no money off of this fic

Chapter List
- 1-Into the Alley
- 1
Into the Alley
~~~
            The Eighth Fist of Ragnarok, Nanjou Kisara the Valkyrie sat in the abandoned warehouse she had claimed as her base of operations. Her legs were folded with her hands nestled in the empty space in the center of them. She kept her cat-like green eyes focused on the cold and cracked floor. Her section of Ragnarok was slowly being shredded away by the Shinpaku Alliance – more specifically, its Assault General – and she was gradually losing credibility in the ranks she just recently was accepted in. Freya had been a mentor, but her belief that women could not stand on par with men in battle without weapons caused some friction in Kisara’s allegiance. With the right training, any woman could beat any man on even terms. Yet, even though she proved herself even more capable, the boy named Shirahama Kenichi refused to fight back against her.
            “Damn brat,” she murmured to herself. She brought a hand up and bit on the tip of her thumb, contemplating her next move. Already, she had lost her Puncher and Thrower, leaving only the miserable skills of the Kicker at her command, but he was too goofy to actually pose a threat to her enemies. And when that dairy cow, Miu was around, he was too distracted by those human udders to prove himself useful in any way. All because of those tits…
            “Tch, who needs them that big anyway?” Kisara glanced down at her modest chest, flushed a little, and then told herself that she was proud not to have dual mountains floundering around during fights. Secretly, though, she pictured herself with a pair that was on par with Miu’s, if only to show her up. The shirt she now wore would be stretched to capacity, in danger of ripping.
            Her stare lifted to observe the empty room. Most of her troops were out scouting for more territory or to crush any gangs that might sprout up here and there like the Shinpaku Alliance had. Well, not much would get done with the head lounging about, doing nothing. A stroll should be enough to clear her head of the stress that came with the titles of a Fist of Ragnarok. Maybe she would go to the field where all the cats congregated.
~~~
            “Uwah~, there are so~ many~!” fawned Miu, eyes wide and glistening with adoration as she stared at the paradise of stray cats prowling about a vacant lot. Kenichi watched as the busty blonde frolicked into the field of felines; he knew that it was pointless to stall her from her one weakness. She giggled and squatted low to fondle the nearest cat, obsessing over its cuteness.
            “Miu-san, I think we should get to the dojo,” Kenichi half-chuckled. He was normally late for school, but there was enough motivation for him to get to Ryouzanpaku – namely Apachai’s growing anxiousness. The Thai fighter couldn’t control his excitement if he was kept waiting for long. Kenichi could already imagine the concussion-inducing punches that awaited him the moment he stepped into Ryouzanpaku’s grounds.
            However, despite his concerns of tardiness, Miu remained deaf to him, cuddling the friendly kittens that padded over to her. She wished to keep them all, or if not, move out of the dojo and build a little hut here so that she could live amongst the adorable creatures. So content to drown in the sea of cats, she had all but forgotten that Kenichi was with her. When she began to sing to the cats as if in a trance, that was when Kenichi had to wave the white flag and think about himself. Miu was fine and would surely return home before it got too late; there were plenty of times when she would have her heavenly encounters with kittens during an outing, and all times, she would come back home.
            Reluctant to leave her, Kenichi nonetheless gave her notice that he was heading for the dojo. She at least offered some signs of awareness when she laughed dimly and idly waved off his dismissal. Well, at least he knew where he stood compared to her love of cats; that did not leave him with dry, happy eyes as he sauntered away like a defeated man.
            He walked in staggering step, arms dangling and smile lacking enthusiasm. “I didn’t even exist to Miu-san,” he whined to himself. He heaved a heavy sigh before he forced himself from falling into the depression of the feeble and helpless. Bringing up his fist determinedly, he stared off into the horizon and swore, “One day, I’ll be strong enough to impress Miu-san!” Laughing, he continued to march, heedless of where he was going. He continued to act goofy, even as he turned a sharp corner, and, as fate would have it, bumped right into the short-haired, strong-legged Eighth Fist. Having been kicking a stone along with her stride since leaving her base, Kisara hadn’t been conscious enough to predict a sudden collision and was knocked onto her ass, same as Kenichi.
            “Ugh!” She winced before her cat-eyes shot daggers at the clumsy idiot on the ground with her. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you dumb…!” Her insult came up short when recognition hit her just as surely as the goon had. “Shirahama!” With the instant reflexes of a cat, she was on her feet, assuming her usual battle stance of bent knees and raised fists.
            Kenichi was much slower, mumbling apologies and rubbing his backside until he finally glanced up and saw the frightening fighter looming over him. With a startled howl, he scurried back on his ass a ways before cowering. “K-K-Kisara-san?!” Of all the rotten luck, he just had to run into one of the only two Fists of Ragnarok that were women. Sure, he wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against any Fist – regardless of gender – but now his only choice was a ‘strategic retreat’, and unfortunately, Kisara was well-known for her fancy footwork. Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could at least get Miu in earshot of his pathetic cries for help.
            Though initially surprised by this run-in, Kisara couldn’t help the smirk that spread across her face. She hated this sexist wimp, and pummeling his face before visiting her feline friends would do some good. “Well, this is a surprise, running into the Shinpaku Alliance.” Her boots scraped against the sidewalk as she strengthened her position. With her weight distributed properly, she kept herself light on her feet, ready to deliver those devastating kicks of hers. “It looks like I’ll get to crush the primary attacker, and I wasn’t even counting on it.” She chortled malevolently. Defeating Shirahama would leave the Shinpaku Alliance in shambles. That freaky alien leader of theirs certainly couldn’t scheme up a way to challenge the might of the Eight Deadly Fists with their strongest fighter defeated.
            “Wait,” stammered the boy on the ground. He waved a hand out in front of him, slapping on a friendly smile. “We don’t have to fight. How about…?”
            “That dairy cow isn’t with you,” Kisara observed. She wasn’t sure if she should be glad or upset; it left Shirahama completely vulnerable to her attack, but that also meant that she couldn’t get her rematch with that big-breasted blonde. A rematch shouldn’t have to wait too long after Miu saw what had been done to her boyfriend, Kisara deduced with her grin spreading. “Well, she won’t be hard to find after I get rid of you.”
            Kenichi’s feebleness vanished when the threat for Miu was given. Simmering with determination, he slowly rose to his feet. To Kisara’s surprise, he entered an offensive stance. It seemed that when his dear Miu was threatened, he’d forgo his principles to protect her. At least he was willing to acknowledge Kisara as a fighter now…
            “Are you ready to fight now, Shirahama?” Kisara goaded, eager to beat him senseless while he gave his all.
            He made the first move: a frontal charge that put her on the defensive, and then he pivoted on his next step, turning back the way he came. Form was abandoned as his hands flailed above his head. “Miu~san~!” he shrieked with tears of fright streaming down his face like waterfalls.
            Kisara blinked. Was he seriously fleeing like a shameless coward? Snarling, she gave pursuit. “Get back here, you coward!” she shouted to him, to which he cried back that he wasn’t being cowardly; he was being tactful. Not for long; Kisara picked up her pace, her strong legs carrying her much faster than Kenichi’s. In no time at all, she had closed the gap and was upon him. Realizing his escape had failed, he threw up a Muay Thai defense. He wasn’t polished enough to rebound the force of the blow, but he at least kept his face from being mutilated by Kisara’s spinning kick.
            The blow had him somersaulting into a dirt alleyway, away from spectators who might interfere. Aside from other paths that the little rat might try to scurry down, these close-quarters were rather ideal for a street fight. “Nowhere to run now, Shirahama.” Kisara strolled casually into the alley, her fingers wedged into the tight pockets at the back of her torn jeans. She allowed Kenichi to scramble to his feet; not like he posed much of a threat when his only tactic was to scream for his blonde friend.
            “Listen, Kisara-san, we don’t have to fight,” Kenichi pleaded with her mercy. “I was just on my way home! I wasn’t planning on fighting Ragnarok!”
            “Tch. Like I was planning to run into you,” she shot back at him. Her hands came up to her chest, balling into fists. “It’s just the luck of the draw, so get your ass in gear. Otherwise, that girlfriend of yours isn’t going to recognize your face after I’m done with you!” She went at him swiftly before he could even put up a proper guard. A jarring blow struck him in the bicep, shaking his stance and leaving his right side wide open; Kisara pirouetted and gave Kenichi’s ribs another kick.
            As both had expected, that was all that was needed to bring him crumbling to his knees, hissing with pain and grasping at his bruised side. If not for enduring so many of Apachai’s punches, that kick probably would done some serious internal damages.
            Kisara should’ve felt pleased to bring the Shinpaku’s best man to his knees so quickly, but it only agitated her that he refused to actually put up a fight. There was no satisfaction to be had in stomping on an insect. How could she boast about singlehandedly defeating the Assault General of the only real rival gang in town when he wouldn’t throw a single punch? She wanted to pound him flat, do Ragnarok the favor, but she was more concerned about her own pride. Until Shirahama stopped acting like a sexist fool, she couldn’t prove that gender meant nothing in an all-out fight.
            Snarling angrily, she snatched Kenichi by the front of his shirt and yanked him up to eyelevel. As he hollered and cried for mercy, she stayed her hand, despite how difficult it was not to start thrashing him. “Shut up!” she finally snapped, shaking him until his sniveling stopped. “The reason you’re not a bloody pulp right now is because you’re being stubborn. Now throw a punch!”
            “I can’t,” he blubbered. He should’ve known better, but he went on to explain. “You’re… you’re a girl!”
            SMACK!! “Would that stop you from stopping someone from killing you, because that’s what’s gonna happen!” Kisara ground her teeth.
            Though it was a foolish move, he maintained his policy. “Sorry, Kisara-san, but a man should never hit a woman. I can’t fight you.”
            A throbbing vein appeared at her temple from the annoyance. “Why… you…!” She took a hand from his shirt, lifting it high as she prepared for a monumental slap that would leave Kenichi senseless.
            “Wait!” sobbed Ryouzanpaku’s disciple. A bit too hastily, his hands rose in an effort to block his face, but with the space so narrow between their bodies, his raising palms wound up scooping two small hills of soft flesh.
            Time froze in that one awkward instant. Both fighters gulped. While Kisara held a shocked scowl, all life seemed to drain out of Kenichi’s face. He had become too stupefied to even remove his hands from the bust cradled neatly in his hands. It took an imaginary rabbit running through the background for him to gain his senses back. Blabbering, he stumbled out of Kisara’s weakened grip and greatened the distance in between them, screaming apologies and how he didn’t mean to grab her there.
            Kisara frowned at his stammering explanations. Shirahama seemed more upset about it than she did. He wasn’t the first to touch her intimately, having been accidentally grazed by other fighters in that area and groped by Koga, who always acted like it was an accident; accident or not, he’d always wind up with a boot-mark on his ass and an inability to sit down properly for a few days.
            Kisara huffed. Though she wasn’t fond of having her small breasts being touched or focused upon, she could at least forgive Kenichi of this mishap. She could consent that it was an honest mistake. However, the moment she was about to pardon his guilt, a truth was realized upon. At first, she could not believe it, but a second glance affirmed her suspicions. Turning red in the cheeks, she grumbled, “C’mon… Are you kidding me?”
            It seemed that in his franticness, Kenichi had been unaware of the reactions of his body. Though he spent most of his time with plentiful breasts at the dojo, Kisara’s were actually the first he’d ever touched. Afraid or not, he couldn’t help unconsciously relishing the sublime feel of soft, supple flesh. At night, he’d imagine what Miu’s felt like, but Kisara had exceeded his fantasies.
            Hence, he now was standing with an awkward protuberance fighting against his school pants down his left leg. It throbbed, and within the constricting confines, it was quite a significant surge, visibly and physically. Rambling, Kenichi ducked his crotch behind both hands, trying desperately to assure Kisara it wasn’t what she thought it was.
            It certainly wasn’t a pen, Kisara thought with a roll of her eyes. “Jeez, is that why you don’t fight girls?” She smirked. Easing into an offensive posture, she jibed, “You pop a boner? I thought you were only interested in fat breasts. Guess you don’t discriminate, huh? Pervert.”
            “No, it’s not like that!” Kenichi hollered, taking one hand away to wave in front of him. He kept his body curved, trying to offer some slack to his pants. “Please, just give me a moment, and I’ll leave!”
            “Leave?” Kisara spat to the side. “Whoever said I was gonna let you leave?” She lunged in the blink of an eye and gave Kenichi just enough time to wail like a baby before she caught him. Rather than beat the living daylights out of him or kick his testicles up into his throat, she took him from behind and grappled. Her powerful, nimble left leg curled around his own, preventing him from fleeing or even moving more than an inch. Since he was not on guard, both arms had been hooked in the crook of the elbow and kept them locked behind him with one arm. Keeping him from escaping – though she had to tolerate his pleading struggles – Kisara still had one hand free to roam. With an impish smirk, she peered down over Kenichi’s shoulder. “How about we take a look at what we’re dealing with…”
            “Wha~?!” Kenichi felt the hand brush the crotch of his trousers before looking down. Fingertips lightly traced his zipper before it was fully grasped. “Wait, Kisara-san!” He went unheeded, and his fly was successfully undone. Boldly, the gloved hand snaked through the slit, blindly sifting through the creases of clothing underneath. It wasn’t much longer before she felt the warmth and smoothness of flesh as well as course hair. At an angle pointing downward, she could feel his engorged genitals.
            With a triumphant chuckle, she grasped the base and roughly tugged on it. Kenichi grunted at her carelessness, but was relieved when she brought him out. She held him loosely in her fist, inspecting him at her leisure as he quivered and mewled for her to stop. He did not seem to have the vigor he once showed. Kisara smirked, for maybe he was now not so eager to put his cock back out of sight. Typical man, she mused while lazily caressing the phallus, driven by lust no matter who the woman was. With a firmer tug from base to tip, she was rewarded with a clear, glossy droplet of his arousal.
            “Heh, getting pretty excited, aren’t you, Shirahama? I knew underneath all that sensitive bull-crap, you’re just a typical pervert,” she snickered. Two fingertips pressed firmly against the slit of his cockhead, pushing the spongy flesh inward while smearing his pre-cum around with rotating motions. Kenichi grunted and tensed, eyes closed as he tried not to focus on the foreign hand toying with his cock. He wanted to absolve his current title as a pervert – though he was far from innocent in that regard – and remind Kisara that she was the one handling him, but the words and the thought process to put together a proper sentence had stalled; besides, if she was inadvertently accused of being the actual pervert, these kind strokes would turn much less pleasant.
            Kisara did not care much about labeling him; she was far more interested with his protruding organ. He wasn’t big, but he wasn’t small either, perhaps just a little bit larger than what she had seen before. With a careful push of her index finger, she completely uncovered the swollen head from its foreskin sheath.
            Like a cat at play, she pawed delicately at him, nudging him back and forth and following the energetic throbs. Eventually, however, her game came to an end and she held him firmly in her fist, almost painfully so. “Not a bad piece you got here,” she complimented in her usual ironic way.
            Kenichi wasn’t about to say ‘thank you’, but he had blushed modestly, happy to be given praise from the first girl to actually have a proper gander at his sex – and a member of Ragnarok at that. What concerned him, though, was the sudden slackness of Kisara’s hold on him. Surely she wasn’t about to let him go now! Secretly, he hoped she’d at least finish him off before either leaving him be or pounding him into the dirt; he’d be glad with either, just as long as the hunger of his crotch was satisfied.
            He made a sound of confusion was she completely unwound from him. “Wha…? Is that it?” he dumbly asked. He hadn’t thought to put his dick away yet.
            Keeping a hand on the cap, angling it to shade her eyes, she chortled and rounded him, heading to the wall at the side with an alluring sway in her hips that Kenichi couldn’t help noticing. “Is that it?” she repeated, glancing back at him with a delightfully wicked leer. “As I thought, you want more. Well, I don’t see why not. Let’s see how well you can handle that thing of yours.” She emphasized her meaning by blatantly glancing down at his cock, her toothy grin widening.
            “What do you mean?” Kenichi blabbered, finally reacting to being exposed like this and covering himself up again; he didn’t put his penis away. He could take a very good guess at which way she’d like him to demonstrate his ‘skill’. “I can’t…!” He protested only because of Miu, but that resolve quickly began to shred away when Kisara began to work on her torn jeans’ button. Perhaps it was his arousal fighting to get some relief, but he recalled Ma-sifu saying that Miu would never be interested in a guy with no experience. Of course, that was taken out of context; Kensei Ma was merely trying to motivate Kenichi to train harder in his martial arts, not give lessons in sex.
            “Are you sure you can’t?” Kisara’s zipper came down, and rather than roll the skintight pants down her bulky thighs and legs, she merely dipped down the left side as far as it would go, and then slid her leg out in a practiced sweep; it was rather simple since the pant leg was missing entirely. With a satisfied grunt, and with only her right leg still clothed, she folded her arms and smirked at Kenichi. Not surprisingly, he was gawking like a blushing idiot. The fact that she went commando on the streets was expected, but it still caught Kenichi off guard to see the fiery curls adorning her naked sex. She wasn’t overly-eager, but there was enough apparent wetness to ease passage. Kenichi hadn’t had the time, money, shame, or age to buy a ‘know the female anatomy’ book, but he gathered enough knowledge from basic health class.
            If there was blood to be spared from his genitals, he would’ve suffered a vicious nosebleed from the sight. “Um, Kisara-san?”
            “Well? Are you going to get over here or not?” Kisara sounded annoyed, but that meant that she was impatiently waiting for him. “I don’t have all day, kid.”
            Kenichi considered his options and their consequences. If he did not follow through, certainly he’d be thrashed again, and this time around, it’d be on a more personal level. If he wound up listening to her, he doubted he’d leave this alleyway with his integrity intact. Miu should be his first! But that niggling self-conscious voice in the back of his head that strangely reminded him of Niijima’s voice warned him that she might find his performance laughable if he had no experience beforehand. An absurd argument considering how kindhearted and sympathetic Miu was, but hardcore arousal usually made sense of the most outlandish reasoning to get what it wanted.
            Like an abused mutt, he toddled over to her with trepidation, much to Kisara’s wicked satisfaction. His thighs shuffled together as though that would help his modesty. He turned away, wanting to avoid the gleam of Kisara’s emerald eyes. “You… you won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” he murmured softly, slowly returning his attention to her.
            “And who would I tell?” the Eighth Fist half-laughed. Her palms smoothed over his collarbone before her hands latched securely over his shoulders. He may have looked puny, but she was surprised at how taut his muscles were underneath her touch. He’d have to be well-built to defeat her top fighters, Ukita the Thrower and Takeda the Puncher. “Just remember that the same goes for you,” she growled threateningly, squeezing his muscles as tightly as she could in warning. “A word to anyone, and it’ll be your dick I kick across the ground, got it?”
            “Yes, ma’am,” Kenichi wheezed with a gulp. It was amazing that his erection lost none of its potency from this very-real fear. Before he knew it, he was supporting Kisara’s weight as she fastened her legs about his waist, securing her lithe body to him. Thank goodness for Akisame’s judo training; carrying her body felt like nothing at all. Perhaps the only problem was the positioning of his hands since he feared she might be offended if he supported her at the most advantageous point: her ass. Luckily, she didn’t object or even comment when he carefully slid his hand over her tight cheeks.
            Kisara leered down at the shaft pressed against the cleft of her vagina. It twitched against her, some more pre-cum spilling down the round tip. “Well, aren’t you just the excited li’l pervert?” She took hold of his prick, grunting quietly as she adjusted her hips until she was rubbing him against her blossoming folds. He made a breathless comment – probably having some second thoughts – but she did not pay it any heed. “Ready, Shirahama?” With that, she accepted him into her body before he could respond. Breath was stolen from his lungs as he sunk within the incredibly tight, wet heat. A hand – even coated with lotion – could not imitate this unbelievably good sensation of connecting with a woman.
            “Wo~ow!” Kenichi was in awe of this feeling, involuntarily curling his hips to help embed himself in the ill-tempered redhead’s core. He didn’t know much, but he knew that at some point, there should be a membrane indicating her chastity. However, it was a straight drive through; whether Kisara ruptured her hymen during her intense Tae Kwon Do or from coupling with another man, Kenichi didn’t want to know. It just felt too good for him to have to reconsider.
            As nearly six inches of pure flesh and muscle slid through her folds, Kisara kept herself composed, allowing only minor sounds of pleasure to escape from her lips. Her fingers had been the only occupants in her canal for the past few months, and she was content with that. Sex with this Shirahama kid wasn’t as appealing as the actual taboo of fucking a rival to her gang. He was putty in her hands, and as long as she let him pound her, he’d bark like a dog on her command.
            The Valkyrie exhaled gratefully when she took Kenichi all the way inside of her. He was too flabbergasted to speak – or sing, from the look of unsurpassable rapture on his face. The muscles sheathing him contracted tightly to make him yelp. A bead of sweat trickled down from Kisara’s temple, heading down her jaw line and down her throat. “Heh, I’m surprised, Shirahama. I thought you only obsessed over big, dairy cow tits like your girlfriend’s.” She spoke rather evenly, though her voice hitched a little. She snickered a little as Kenichi stammered, too excited to really come back with a retort. Taking a hand from his shoulder to grab and pull up the hem of her red shirt along with her gray-blue sports bra, she bunched her top over the hills of her bust. She may not have been able to boast the figure of Miu or Shigure, but that did not mean her own pink-peaked breasts were any less splendid. “Go on, Shirahama,” she continued to taunt. “Get an eyeful.”
            Kenichi was drooling whilst ogling the beautiful b-cups. He was swept up in primal lust and the unexplainable urge to see her tits in rhythmic motions. Rather than merely supporting her ass, he took hold and pulled her away from him. Her hand returned to his shoulder as her back arched. A sound like a yowling cat rumbled in her throat from the feeling of him withdrawing, though she gasped fully and loudly when he slammed back inside of her.
            He tried his hand again at thrusting and setting a tempo, but being as inexperienced and excited as he was, his movements were sharp, clumsy, and erratic. Kisara had to on tight to keep herself from being thrown off of him during one of his more vicious drives; her hands only came away to adjust her green cap and keep it from flying off of her head. Small moans were mute underneath the frantic gasps and sobs of pleasure from Ryouzanpaku’s first disciple. As his tempo and strength increased, the wetness of her snatch also increased. It was becoming harder and harder for her to keep her voice down as the Shinpaku captain drove his cock into her repeatedly. Unlike the staggering thrusts he made earlier, he seemed to have grown in confidence and had a timed pace to the rocking motions of his hips. They were so tightly locked together that each push inward had him pounding against the end of her vagina.
            Kisara winced. She was becoming a bit sore, despite the unrelenting pleasure. “Jeez, slow down, Shirahama!” she wheezed out. “Do you always fuck dairy cow this hard?”
            The mention of Miu – though crudely – struck Kenichi deep. It must’ve been a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach, yet it was hardly enough to discourage his hips from moving against Kisara. With a small growl, he forced Kisara’s back up against the wall, providing more leverage to surge up into her inviting depths. “Don’t talk about Miu-san!” he said amongst bated breaths and lustful groans.
            A sore spot; Kisara couldn’t help prodding at it even as she was fucked against the wall. “Oh, so you care about her, but you don’t care who you’re fucking. What a little man-whore you are.” She was rewarded for her teasing by a weak-hearted denial from her enemy.
            His left arm curled underneath her butt to keep her up – even though her legs alone were strong enough to keep her aloft on his pelvis – so that the other hand could brace against the wall. He still had the passion to keep going, but his stamina was waning. At this rate, Kisara was pretty much sure that she’d have to lay him down on his back and ride him to her own completion. And there was a very good chance that he’d be spent before then, unable to keep himself up for her to enjoy.
            With the troubling thought of being left unsatisfied, Kisara took matters into her own hand. One hand could be spared from holding onto his shoulders since she was now wedged between him and the wall. Her first concern was her breasts, bouncing subtly in time with Kenichi’s thrusts. They had been craving attention since this began. Her tight, cute nipples had become rigid peaks vying for attention, and she complied with the impulse. She groped the left one first, molding the flesh in a practiced squeeze before pinching the tip in between her forefinger and thumb. She was not rough with them; she was firm, carefully massaging them with the right amount of strength to produce potent pleasure without the risk of pain.
            The sight of the mounds bouncing in time with his thrusts was hypnotic, but Kenichi found the display of Kisara touching herself, moaning with desire, to be even more mouthwatering. What would those glorious globes feel like in his mouth? There was one way to find out, but again, treading unwisely with Kisara was a foolish and usually painful mistake.
            “Are you just going to gawk at them?” Kisara snapped as if reading his mind; Kenichi had to wonder if his thoughts were so apparent on his facial features since Akisame-sensei was able to read his mind so easily all the time. She was blushing modestly even as she held her glower. “If you want to touch them, go ahead.”
            “R-really?” mumbled Kenichi. His hand didn’t – or couldn’t – wait for affirmation when it quickly seized her bosom. The soft, round hill fit almost perfectly in his palm. The breast molded with his caresses, though the tip remained rigid even while brushing his thumb over it. Such difference in texture, he contemplated while constantly bumping his thumb against the nub.
            The twitching inside of her snatch was becoming more and more frequent, and Kisara knew what that meant even thought Kenichi couldn’t find the will to announce it. Desperation for release set in; her traveling hand swept through her pubic hair until her fingertips were prodding her ultrasensitive clitoris. She seethed from the increased dosage of pleasure and only sped up her own personal ministrations. Her efforts paid off quickly, propelling her nearer to the release of pleasure mounting in her loins. She cursed under her breath from the mind-numbing orgasm pending. Muscle groups gave spasms and contracted, sealing tightly around Kenichi’s member. A twinge of shame was overwhelmed by the more extreme sensation of her climax; she could chastise herself later for having a puny sexist like Shirahama hold out longer than her, though she was the one eager to bring herself to completion. She exhaled raggedly, grinding her sex against his, fighting the rhythm he’d grown accustomed to. An overflow of her juices gushes over his cock, staining the crotch of his pants while her walls hugged him like the coils of a snake.
            The feeling pulled the trigger. Kenichi did well to last as long as he did, but he could not help the outpour of his release. Before his seed could spring into Kisara’s pussy, he called her name in a strained voice. He cringed and kept himself deep inside of her.
            “Idiot! Take it out! Don’t you dare cum inside of me!” Urgently, Kisara’s hand went from touching herself to yank the cock from where it was neatly nestled between her nether lips. They came apart, and not a second too soon. The first high spurt arched from the head of his soaked cock and came down just an inch below her navel; the second splashed dead-on her bellybutton. Without any stimulation at all, he continued to send his weakening bursts of cum over her lower stomach, the less-lively jets dowsing her pubic curls with sticky white.
            The mess offended Kisara, yet it also gave her a tingling of arousal. The gooey warmth spreading over her pale skin almost felt relaxing, though she wasn’t about to announce it. He certainly had an abundance to donate to her, that was for sure, she thought while grimacing at the splatter that had tainted her fingers. It strung together between her trembling digits like strands from a web.
            Spent of all that demanded increased blood circulation, Kenichi’s prick began to deflate and clarity set in. He cleared his throat awkwardly, reflecting on how easily he lost his virginity in an alleyway to someone who hated his guts. Seeing the puddles of semen splayed over her pelvis obligated him to feel responsible. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief – something Ma-sifu suggested he carry around in case Miu was ever in need of a tissue. He offered it to Kisara, and non-too-gracefully or thankfully, she snatched it from him and began to dab up the white splotches. The piece of cloth was quickly saturated with Kenichi’s essence. For the most part, she had cleaned up, though; there wasn’t enough left of his cum to start oozing down her legs, and she could wait until she returned home or to her base to clean up the portion stuck in the trimmed patch around her sex.
            Kenichi worried about asking Kisara to detangle her powerful legs from around his waist. It was only then that he noticed she had squeezed him more than he realized and had left small bruises. Avoiding the awkward request, Kisara detached herself from him. There was that awkward moment of silence as they collected themselves, still winded and experiencing the aftershocks of their orgasms. The first to make a certain sound was Kisara, who cleared her throat and quickly set her bare leg into her jeans, shrugging it up over her crotch and buttoning it up. Her bra was set into place next before her shirt was rolled back down. In the meantime, Kenichi carefully tucked his penis away and zipped up his trousers.
            Cat eyes were shrouded underneath the brim of her cap, but he could still feel her glare upon him. What could he say now? Anything that came to mind would surely come out stupid and worthy of punishment. “Remember, Shirahama,” Kisara said sharply, enough to spook him when so tense. She adjusted her cap on her head before she began to stride out of the alleyway, head bowed and hands in her back pockets. Before turning the corner and heading to the street, she leered back at Kenichi. “If word gets out of what just happened, I’ll kill you.” Then she was gone, leaving Kenichi to quiver in his shoes. He had no intention of boasting about pounding the Eighth Fist, but he could only imagine what horrors she’d have in store for him if the information somehow got leaked…
            If there was some luck to shine on him, he hoped it would be used to keep that alien-freak Niijima from happening across the spectacle of him coupling with Kisara. A shiver crawled up his spine as he hugged himself against the creepy chill. “That damn alien,” he shuddered and slowly paced towards the exit of the alley. With all the energy that was sapped from him, he hoped that Apachai wasn’t too over-eager to train.
~~~
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Into the Alley