A Chance Encounter Opens Kazuma's Door

Written in collaboration with Cross C

Unfortunately, Kazuma struck out immediately.

Growing up in a world where no one wanted to fuck them mean that women were naturally suspicious of advances. Too many teases from men had made them jaded and bitter. It would take some real hard evidence to prove them wrong. And though Kazuma COULD have provided hard evidence like tit fondling the closest bitty to walk his path, he too was burdened with the experience of humiliation. If he was wrong and this wasn’t a hentai universe? Then he could be expelled, or worse: killed.

He tried to do it the old-fashioned way and ask them to his room, with a myriad of excuses like studying or ‘checking out his coin collection’, but nothing worked. A boy with rejection experience can only take one-to-two noes before it becomes too much for his heart. As such, Kazuma decided to return to his room at the end of the day and just try again tomorrow. Though he found the resolve within him to partake in the one thing he had been doing every day since he got there.

“I-I don’t know why I’m the one having to knock on a boy’s room…”

Marianne was upset, though she then felt guilty about feeling this way, which made her more upset.

Her classmate Hilda had asked her to do something for her. In a perfect world that would make the blue haired girl feel needed, helpful, and wanted. But in her heart she knew that Hilda was only using her to shirk her own responsibilities.

This was the time of day that most women became overwhelmed by their hormones and needed to go pleasure themselves in their dorm rooms (an act that Kazuma had mistaken for sex between more attractive people many times now) but their teacher Catherine had asked Hilda to retrieve an item that one student had stolen during their match. Seemed the responsibility shirking went all the way up…

Marianne was just the one woman who was too shy and accepting to not deny the request. Which is why she was upset. Both a desire to be away from the sexless yet sweaty hellhole of a gentleman’s room, and the feeling that she was being stepped on yet again.

But with the hope this would be over soon, she knocked on Kazuma’s door.

Knock knock knock.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Kazuma-san? Sorry to bother you at this hour, but I’m afraid you need to return an item…”

The door wasn’t locked. It wasn’t even shut properly. A simple knock made the thing swing quite easily open.

Kazuma sat upon the end of his bed, his lithe but tautly muscular pecs heaving with each ragged breath. But it was his lower half that commanded her gaze, a sight that defied every expectation she'd ever held.

His trousers and undergarments were about his boots, revealing a landscape that sent a jolt of heat through her. A shaft of formidable size, easily twice the length of her own hand, rose from the nest of dark hair at its base. Its smooth, alabaster skin gleamed in the candle light, the veins pulsing with a life of their own. The glans, broad and succulently pink, crowned its summit, a beacon of masculine potency. Suspended below, like two opulent sacks brimming with forbidden treasure, hung his testicles. They were massive, each easily the size of her fist, their skin stretched taut over the heavy balls contained within.

Marianne should have turned and fled, ashamed and scandalised by her own actions. But her body would not heed the command. She stood rooted to the spot, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. She felt her cheeks flush, a wildfire spreading across her skin. She'd seen penises before, of course, small and limp unappealing things that dangled from boys and men as they bathed or relieved themselves but Kazuma's member was different.

It was erect!

It was huge, magnificent even, and seemed to throb with a power and life beyond imagining. She was transfixed, the warmth in her core building to an intensity she'd never experienced.

No! She thought desperately, fighting against the sudden surge of desire. It's not right to want such a thing! You're worthless, ugly, cursed.

And yet she could not tear her eyes from him. Arousal pulsed through her, making her legs shake. She could feel her own loins slick with a strange, sweet wetness as she noted Lady Catherine’s panties serving as a makeshift sheath around the turgid pillar of manhood before her.

Kazuma was moaning now, his breathing shallow and urgent. Marianne watched in stunned silence as he worked the sodden crumpled wad of one of the most highly placed knight’s panties, sliding them up and down with a practiced ease.

She had to leave, now, before he noticed her presence and branded her a pervert, a degenerate. Yet she could not bring herself to move, mesmerised by the display unfolding before her.

Marianne’s breath hitched as he pumped his great length and the motion was transmitted to his grandly large testicles. They bounced and slapped together obscenely, their heavy weight adding to the raw virility that emanated from him. Marianne couldn't help but imagine the warmth and heft of them in her hands, the feeling of their weight against her cheek.

Time seemed to stand still, the air thick with a tension that crackled like lightning. Marianne's heart hammering a frantic tattoo against her ribs. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and fascination, traced every curve, every detail, committing this forbidden vision to memory.

Suddenly, Kazuma's eyes snapped open, finding Marianne rooted to the spot. A startled grunt escaped his lips, his grip around his shaft faltering.

“S-sorry!” he cried out suddenly and Marianne felt dismay as his endowment was abruptly obscured by his bedsheets, “I, uh, I wasn’t expecting…!”

Shame flooded Marianne's face, and she stammered, "I-I didn't mean to intrude," her voice barely a whisper. Her heart thudded in her chest, the pulse of her sex still throbbing. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, the embarrassment of her presence overcoming her. She'd seen something forbidden, something she'd only dare imagine in the depths of her most lurid fantasies. "I-I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…”

She suddenly felt dizzy, the world spinning around her. Kazuma leapt from his bed, concern written plainly on his handsome face. His endowment swayed beneath the cover of the bedsheet, its size still apparent. Marianne's head was reeling, the image of that great white pillar seared into her mind.

He was… so big....

Her voice was dreamy. Her face was red. Her mouth wide in shock, awe, and pure heat. Twas a scene right out of the filthiest fiction, all for the depressed blunette. But it was also too much, Marianne was soon utterly defeated, falling **** from sheer lust overload that made her stumble forward into Kazuma’s room.

“Damn. How the hell do I explain this?!”