Women!

"Music, Sex"

…

From the intense atmosphere escalating within the steam-filled bathroom, I emerged into the chilly air of early spring. Stepping outside, I stood with the entrance door at my back.

"Well then, see you later, Denji-kun..."

Ahead of my gaze stood Rias Gremory on the nighttime street. Her naked body now is adorned in modest attire that contrasted her usual provocative attire, Rias's hair, damp from the bath yet already dried by the night breeze, swayed gently.

After luxuriating in the bath, Rias Gremory had plans with her female companions to be gathered in the Occult Research Club room. 

Post-bath, Rias casually dried her crimson locks with a hairdryer, a brief respite before her departure. 

Tonight she held plans of another kind of chat-chat; Rias was eagerly waiting the moment to tell her best friend Akeno Himejima that thing she wanted the most finally got it. 

As Denji waved a casual goodbye, Rias reciprocated with a modest wave before gracefully strolling down the night-lit street. Her occasional halts, glances back in my direction, accompanied by a series of waves, added a touch of endearing diligence to her departure routine. It was quintessential Rias Gremory.

'The heat in my body had subsided, desires dormant. It was thanks to releasing a lot of semen inside Rias earlier. Usually, I'd use a condom, so occasionally going without it felt refreshing. Despite the potential for more, I decided to refrain from further stimulation for today. Yet, it was too early to sleep. Contemplating finding something else to occupy my time, I decided to indulge in my usual hobby.

Rather than heading to my room on the second floor, I descended the stairs leading to the basement.

Beyond the heavy door at the base of the stairs lay a spacious room. Various items were scattered around, all related to my favorite hobby, music. A grand piano, electric guitar, bass, drums, speakers, and music stands—all belongings collected by my late father as hobbies. This room used to be a place where my parents and their friends would meet and perform various music pieces after my father's passing in a car accident.

However, since then, no one any longer gathered here, leaving behind only the instruments my father had cherished. Besides occasional cleaning, even my mother seldom ventured into the basement. This room was filled with memories—a space my mother might intend to graduate from, given her decision to go abroad for work. Perhaps it was to move on from this basement overflowing with joyful memories."

From a drawer in the room, I retrieved a cleaning cloth and lightly wiped the instruments before turning to the music stand. There lay the sheet music I had recently composed. Not an original piece by me, but rather, it was the sheet music of a song that had been popular in my past life, one that didn't exist in this world. Delving into the sounds in my memory, I gradually transcribed the notes onto the staff, recreating it as a complete piece in this world.

I've made singing a hobby, often dedicating time in this room for vocal practice and composing music. I've spent a considerable amount of time pursuing music, an interest carried over from my previous life, and while I don't boast, I believe I have commendable vocal abilities. It might seem like I'm an ignorant person confined to my own world, but that's not the case—I can assert that. I have achieved a certain level of success.

I powered up the computer near the speakers, took a seat, and faced the screen. Upon logging in, the first thing I opened was a video and audio sharing site. Managed by a leading corporation, the site compiled a plethora of content, ranging from humorous videos to gameplay recordings, game commentary, discussions on music, and politics, among countless other genres.

The top-ranking entry in the music section on this site was none other than a recording I had uploaded. It was a recording of me singing to a self-produced track on the computer in this very room—an original song I created, not from my previous life. I had posted numerous original compositions and songs from my past life, and some of my previous uploads also littered the rankings.

Curious, I clicked on my video page that had claimed the top spot and played it. On this site, viewers could post comments while watching the videos, and I couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer volume of comments.

Among the comments were certainly some critical ones, but there were far more praising remarks. Some identified themselves as fans from when I first started posting on this site, while others were newcomers. While continually surprised by the unnaturally escalating views, comments, and likes whenever I occasionally updated the video page, I closed the page.

It's not that I seek validation from others; I began posting songs merely as a reference for practice. Because when it comes to singing, truly engaging with it, others' opinions become necessary. Any form of feedback, once heard, could be beneficial."

Still, I'm happy to be listened to and evaluated by a diverse audience like this. Even a woman, a friend of my parents who is much older and still in touch with me, watches my videos and praises them. The newest memory is being praised while receiving a handjob; it felt so good that my brain felt like it was going to melt.

Come to think of it, those naughty women proposed if I wanted to perform as a singer and become a member of their band. Or was it that they wanted me to work as a new staff member? At that time, I was in the passenger seat of the car, engrossed in fucking them and shaking my hips, so I don't remember exactly. But I believe they said something like that. By the way, I distinctly remember the number of condoms we used. That girls happily reported the count while holding condoms filled with my sperm between their fingers. I can't forget that lascivious smile of theirs.

Digressing, there's a difference between having people listen to your songs over the internet and actually singing in front of an audience. The experiences gained are on different levels, and I believe I could grow significantly.

However, it takes courage to show your face.

After some thought, I decided it's too early to come to a conclusion. Since there's no pressure to arrive at one, it's better to think about it a little further down the line. For now, I'll stop contemplating."

Regaining focus, I boot up the music player on my computer. It's a song from my previous life that I've recreated to match the sheet music. Standing in front of the music stand, after a few seconds' delay I've set for it, the performance begins to flow through the speakers, filling the room.

I blend my sung voice with the instrumental performance. Song and accompaniment, both indispensable, weave the lyrics and carry them with my voice. The human body is also a kind of instrument. Singing disregarding the performance of other instruments would detract from its charm.

There's no one else in the room but me. No one to listen to my voice. Yet, my heart feels fulfilled. What matters is singing wholeheartedly, following the honest emotions overflowing in my chest. I didn't know what would come next, but for now, I was fine with a solo stage.

After practicing singing for a while, I lay down on the floor. Before sleeping, I felt a sexual desire, but I thought it futile to satisfy it alone at this late hour, so I gave up.

Offering a small prayer not to have a wet dream.

I was lured into my dreams. 

Never did I imagine that when I woke up, I'd already been thoroughly squeezed out by a girl's blowjob.'