Rikako teaches you

The weight of her legs finally relaxed, releasing your face from the vice-grip of her thighs. You sat back, breathing through your mouth, the scent of her climax heavy in the air. You wiped a stray drop of her essence from your lip and tasted it. Salty, sweet, and primal. Rikako lay there, chest heaving, her skin flushed a deep, rosy pink.

"You’re a natural," she panted, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with lingering pleasure. "But the tongue can only do so much. You didn't come here just for a tasting session, did you?"

She reached down, her fingers wrapping around you with a practiced, firm heat. You felt your pulse thundering in your ears. This was the moment where you will become the man you were supposed to be under the tutelage of this complicated, beautiful woman.

Rikako didn't wait for a verbal answer. She guided you over her, her legs parting once more, hooking around your waist to draw you into the cradle of her hips.

"Slowly," she whispered, her voice a velvety command. "Don't just shove it in like a beast. Feel the friction. Learn the resistance."

As you pushed forward, the world seemed to narrow down to the point of contact. You felt the velvet heat of her internal walls giving way, tight and welcoming. You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you braced yourself on either side of her head.

"Look at me," she instructed.

You met her gaze. Her eyes weren't those of a mistress or a mentor; they were sharp, observant, and strangely kind. You pushed deeper, the sensation overwhelming, a physical data point your brain was struggling to process. You were inside the woman who had shared beds with three generations of your family; it's should have been revolting, yet in the heat of the moment, it felt like a bizarre initiation into a secret.

"Move," she breathed. "Find the rhythm. Don't just thrust; grind. Use your weight."

You began to move, tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence. The sound of skin meeting skin, the wet slaps of friction, and Rikako’s sharp, rhythmic inhalations filled the room. You watched her face transform; the way her brows knit together, the way she bit her lip to keep from screaming. Every time you hit a certain depth, her internal muscles would squeeze you.

The "practice" became a blur of sensation. You felt the build-up, that inevitable, crashing wave that started at the base of your spine.

"Rikako, I'm..."

"Do it," she whispered, her voice devoid of the clinical tone she’d used earlier. "Fill me. Just like the rest of them."

With a final, **** surge, you buried yourself as deep as possible. The world exploded into white noise as you came, the intensity of it far beyond anything you’d imagined. You collapsed against her, your heart hammering against her ribs, feeling the rhythmic pulses of your release inside her.