Ken locks his bedroom door, a sense of illicit excitement coursing through him. He pulls Sumi's bra and panties from his pocket, their delicate fabric warm against his skin. He holds them up, examining them closely. The faint, sweet scent of her fills his senses, a heady mix of youthful innocence and something subtly, undeniably her.
He raises the garments to his nose, inhaling deeply. The scent intensifies, a rush of forbidden intimacy that makes his heart pound against his ribs. He imagines her wearing them, the delicate fabric clinging to her skin, the warmth of her body radiating through the thin material.
He lays the garments on his desk, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of the bra, the smooth fabric of the panties. He notices a few faint, almost invisible stains on the gusset of the panties, thin, translucent streaks that hint at her intimate secretions. A dark thrill courses through him. He imagines the warmth of her, the slick, wet heat of her core.
He pulls out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he snaps a few photos of the stolen garments. He captures the delicate lace, the subtle stains, the way the fabric seems to hold the ghost of her presence. He sends the photos to Hiro, a sense of dark satisfaction mingling with his guilt.
Hiro's reply is immediate. "Excellent work," he types, his tone laced with approval. "Bring them tomorrow. I'll make it worth your while."
He follows the message with a few photos of Nana. Ken's breath catches in his throat. Nana is posed in an Olympic runner's outfit, a skin-tight suit that leaves little to the imagination. The thin fabric clings to her athletic figure, highlighting every curve and contour. Her breasts, full and firm, strain against the material, their shape and fullness clearly visible.
The suit rides high on her thighs, revealing the smooth, unblemished skin of her legs. The fabric, pulled taut across her lower body, reveals the delicate curve of her buttocks and the unmistakable outline of her camel toe, a dark, alluring shadow nestled between her thighs.
Her pose is dynamic, athletic, yet undeniably sensual. She leans forward, her back arched, her arms outstretched, her body a picture of raw, unadulterated power. The camera angle, positioned low, captures the full extent of her exposed chest, the way her breasts strain against the thin fabric.
Ken's groin tightens, his desire flaring. He stares at the images, his mind conjuring scenes of forbidden intimacy. He imagines touching her, exploring the curves and hollows of her body, the soft warmth of her skin. He imagines her beneath him, her athletic body writhing beneath his touch.
He's about to lose himself in the forbidden world of lust.
Hiro's fingers fly across the keyboard, his message flashing across the chat group's screen. "Gentlemen," he types, his voice a digital purr, "prepare yourselves. A new chapter in our… collection is about to unfold."
A flurry of replies floods the chat, each message a testament to their eager anticipation. "Finally!" "Show us what you've got, Hiro!" "We're ready for the excitement!"
Hiro smirks, his eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction. "This time," he types, "the price will be slightly higher. But trust me, once you see the content, you'll understand why."
A chorus of agreement fills the chat. "Price is no object!" "Just show us the goods!" "We'll pay whatever it takes!"
Hiro uploads the first few images, the photos blossoming on their screens like forbidden fruit. Sumi, her youthful innocence juxtaposed with a burgeoning sensuality, fills their view. Her school uniform, usually a symbol of demure purity, is transformed into a tool of seduction. The top buttons of her blouse are undone, revealing the delicate swell of her breasts, the lacy pink bra a stark contrast against her pale skin.
The camera angle, positioned low, captures the full curve of her cleavage, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Her expression is a mix of shyness and a subtle, almost unconscious allure, a delicate balance of innocence and burgeoning desire.
The chat explodes with a torrent of lustful pronouncements. "Holy shit!" "Those tits are incredible!" "I can't believe you got these, Hiro!" "She's so young, so… perfect!"
"Worth every penny," one of them types, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "She's a goddess! A forbidden fruit!"
"I'd pay anything to touch her," another writes, his words dripping with raw, unadulterated lust. "To taste her sweetness."
"Imagine her beneath us," a third types, his words a dark, possessive fantasy. "Her youthful cries echoing in the night."
Hiro watches the chat, a dark satisfaction curling within him.
Hiro's fingers moved with practiced precision, selecting the images that would ignite the group's desires. He uploaded them, the photos appearing on their screens like illicit treasures.
The first image showcased Sumi, barely fifteen, in the skin-tight gymnastics leotard. The fabric, a second skin, clung to her developing curves, revealing the delicate swell of her hips and the gentle curve of her spine. Her small, untouched breasts, straining against the thin material, were the focal point, their delicate pink nipples peeking through. The low camera angle captured the shadow of her untouched camel toe, a dark, forbidden promise.
The second photo captured Sumi mid-stretch, her body arched gracefully. The leotard, pulled taut across her chest, outlined the delicate curve of her ribs and the subtle swell of her abdomen. A thin, almost invisible bra strap peeked out, a tantalizing detail against her still-childlike skin. The dark shadow between her legs, a hint of hidden depths, pulsed with an almost unbearable allure.
The third image focused on Sumi's back, her youthful curves outlined by the clinging fabric. The leotard, stretched across her small, firm buttocks, highlighted their untouched roundness. The delicate curve of her waist, the way it flared into her hips, was a testament to her blossoming femininity. It was a picture of innocent beauty, yet it radiated an undeniable erotic charge.
The chat exploded.
Kaito: "Damn, Hiro, you've outdone yourself this time. She's barely fifteen, and look at her! Those tits are practically begging for attention. I'd love to see them bounce."
Ren: "That camel toe, man. It's so… untouched. I'd bury my face in it. Imagine the taste, the sweet, innocent scent of her."
Takuya: "32-24-34, I'm guessing. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. And that face? Like an angel. A dirty, dirty angel. Imagine the contrast, that innocent face and that… body."
Kenji: "Fifteen. Exactly fifteen. Untouched. Pristine. I'd pay a fortune to be the first. To claim her as my own, to break her in. Imagine the feeling, the tightness, the heat. I'd make her scream my name."
Kaito: "Imagine her cries, her little gasps. We'd spread her legs, part her delicate folds, and take what we want. We'd shatter her innocence, one thrust at a time."
Ren: "I'd taste every inch of her. I'd explore her hidden depths, make her mine. I'd make her cry out my name until she couldn't speak."
Hiro's fingers dance across the keyboard, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he uploads the images. The photos bloom on their screens, each one a stolen glimpse into Sumi's burgeoning womanhood.
"So," he types, a sly grin playing across his face, "worth the price, wouldn't you say?"
The replies flood in, a chorus of enthusiastic agreement. "Fucking worth it!" "Absolutely!" "Take my money!"
"Who gets first dibs?" Kaito asks, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I call virginity rights!"
"Like hell you do!" Ren retorts. "I've been waiting longer!"
"Guys, guys," Takuya interjects, his tone laced with a predatory calm. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're all here for the same thing: Sumi's sweet, untouched nudity."
Hiro chuckles, a low, predatory sound. "As a matter of fact," he replies, "I do. A special sale, if you will. A one-time-only event. Only for the highest bidder."
He uploads a new image, a close-up shot of Sumi's bra and panties, the delicate fabric imbued with her intimate scent. A collective gasp echoes through the chat.
"Holy shit," Kaito types, his fingers trembling. "Those are…"
"Sumi's," Ren finishes, his voice a low growl. "I recognize them from the photos."
"How the fuck do you get those?" Takuya demands, his tone laced with a mixture of awe and envy.
"Let's just say," Hiro replies, his fingers dancing across the keyboard, "I have my sources. Now, who's willing to pay the most?"
A bidding war erupts, the numbers escalating with each passing second. Among the bidders, a name surfaces, a name that makes Hiro's grin widen.
"Ichiro?" he types, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "You're bidding? I didn't think you had it in you."
Ichiro, a senior student, a hulking, unattractive figure who harbors an obsessive crush on Sumi, types back, his fingers trembling with a mixture of lust and desperate hope. "I pay whatever it takes," he writes, his voice a digital tremor. "Just… just let me have them."
"Alright, Ichiro," Hiro types, his tone laced with a predatory satisfaction. "You win. They're yours. Come by tomorrow, and we'll… finalize the transaction."
"Tomorrow?" Ichiro types, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I can't wait that long! I need them now!"
"Patience, Ichiro," Hiro replies, his voice a low, seductive murmur. "Good things come to those who wait. And trust me, these… are very good."
"Gentlemen," he announces, "I have another… opportunity. A special event, if you will. This time, it involves Nana."
A collective gasp echoes through the chat, followed by a flurry of eager questions. "Nana? What kind of event?" "Tell us more, Hiro!" "I'm in!"
"Tomorrow," Hiro types, his voice a digital purr, "I have a photoshoot with Nana. Casual wear, fashion-themed. But," he pauses, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, "I can arrange a… special theme. A private session. The highest bidder gets the chance to direct the photoshoot, to… interact with Nana."
"Interact?" Kaito asks, his fingers trembling. "What kind of interaction?"
"Let's just say," Hiro replies, his tone laced with a suggestive drawl, "the possibilities are… extensive. How far you go, how much you see, how much you touch… that depends on you."
The chat explodes, a frenzy of bids flooding the screen. The men, their desires ignited, compete fiercely for the chance to possess Nana, to control her image, to touch her flesh. Among them, a familiar name surfaces.
"Takashi?" Hiro types, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "You're bidding? I didn't expect you to be so… enthusiastic."
Takashi, a wealthy senior student, his features marred by a lifetime of indulgence, types back, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I'll pay anything," he writes, his voice a digital tremor. "Just… let me have her."
"Alright, Takashi," Hiro types, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You win. You get to direct Nana's photoshoot. But," he adds, his fingers pausing for emphasis, "there are certain… guidelines. Dress code. Prepare yourself. This is an exclusive event."
"Dress code?" Takashi asks, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "What do you mean?"
"I'll send you the details later," Hiro replies, "Just be ready. And Ichiro," he continues, "come by tomorrow for Sumi's items first."
He closes the chat, a sense of dark satisfaction curling within him. He's turning their lust into profit, and he's enjoying every minute of it.