Chapter 9 R-18+

She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white.

Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn't quite recognize.

Matsumoto handled a small, white, hand-rolled tube. The way she saw it, it was loaded with everything this square needed to unwind and unload: meant for that blonde slut's pouty, red-smeared cockpillows, she now wanted to see how it looked crammed between his lips instead.

Joint in hand, Matsumoto turned into Ichigo, laying her body across his on the couch.

Now less than an inch of space remained between her bouncing bust and his hard muscles.

Her melons glistened prettily under a light coating of her sweat. "Ichigo, this is weed. You haven't had it before, right?"

She placed it between her own lips to show him how it was done, then handed it over. An indirect kiss. "I think a few puffs will help take the edge of your mood, yeah? I insist..."

Before he could raise any protests, Matsumoto leaned closer, bringing those breasts to rest.

She fell forwards mashing her body against his firm chest, oodles of creamy flesh spilling over his body.

Her smell was intoxicating, and her touch just heightened it.

Ichigo found himself dazed in the presence of two equally-tempting drugs, the one in her hand and the two growing on her chest.

Matsumoto took the opportunity to move in. She laid her other hand across his body, preventing him from rising.

She grazed her fingers down his lower back, then onto his ass. "Mmm. Ichigo~"

She took a big fistful of his ass in her hungry grip, holding him tight. That certainly made Ichigo's eyes pop!

He raised his hands to try and push her away, but there just wasn't any room. She was right on top of him.

"Here... Try it," the saucy Shinigami cooed in his ear.

While she continued to grope and squeeze his ass with one hand, Rangiku stuffed the joint into his mouth with the other.

She appeared to materialize a cigarette lighter in her hand from thin air, and the cheeky girl immediately had its tip ablaze.

She began the process of getting marijuana smoke down into Ichigo's lungs. "Suck on it... Suck-suck-suck..."

Rangiku giggled, giving Ichigo a saucy look both beguiling, and a little sympathetic too!

It was like she could feel how plump and fat up his nuts were, and how desperate those adultery-craving seedpods were to unload huge gooey waves of cum inside every fertile girly in sight. "Hey... I have an idea~" she purred.

From under that swathe of blazing-golden hair, the beauty puckered up soft and kissable lips, smacking that wetly together.

"How about every time you take a suck up here... I give you a suck down there~? I can make up for all the pleasure that frigid wife of yours hasn't been giving you."

If Ichigo heard that last part, he didn't respond... he was muuuch too busy rapidly sucking down the hot roll-up of weed.

And fast, too. Once it sat between those lips of his, the joint was as good as vanished, happily puffed down so fast the lit end reached the tips of Rangiku's fingers.

The beauty recoiled with a gasp, then sucked her sizzled fingers one by one. "Oof. You've got an appetite. Bad boy..."

With each inhale, Ichigo's already-limited struggling against her got a little slower... and much more clumsy!

In no time at all, they looked more like a pair of snuggled-up lovers than a seductress and her prey, and rightly so.

A body like that deserved to be loved right.

She recoiled slightly, sitting back. It was all the opportunity Ichigo needed to wriggle out from under her, shifting sideways on the couch. "Ugh.. What the fuck were you..."

"God, Rangiku... I'm fucking married..." Ichigo groaned, holding his head. She watched him apprehensively, a coy smile on her face.

When Ichigo next opened her eyes, they were stained with tell-tale blotchy red, the sign he was well on the way to his first high. "You're supposed to be my wife's friend."

"Can't you... nnnh... can't you think of anything except fucking me?" It seemed like getting Ichigo high had loosened that foul mouth of his. "My head is pounding... and it's your fault. And I'm hungry."

Ichigo leaned forwards on the couch, head hanging, until his eyes alighted on the beer she'd set out earlier.

"Don't you have any fucking food or anything? If you're going to try to fucking rape me, you could at least feed me first..."

He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a quick swig. He almost spat it out in disgust straight away. "Ugh! This is fucking nasty.."

But evidently it wasn't nasty enough to stop him drinking. Ichigo sampled the beer again, then again. Soon, he was taking larger and larger swallows. "Nn..."

Realizing the second half of the joint had slipped free from his mouth, Ichigo soon found himself looking about for it.

He eventually found it, still lit, down between his shoes, and his eyes absolutely sparkled when he did.

"Gotta pick these up," he muttered slyly, leaning down to grab it. The second it was back in his hands, he was directing the smoking bud back between her lips.

"That's a fire hazard. Surprised you haven't burned down this whole place yet, crazy bitch." In his head, the sneaky comment had seemed perfect for making the Lieutenant scoff and splutter, but it had a lot less bite to it when he said it 1) in-between puffs, and 2) while staring directly at the blonde's large, oh-so-natural breasts.

God they were big. A boy shouldn't be getting progressively more high around a rack like that, he'd eventually reach a tipping point where he wanted them all over his face, burning his cheeks, sapping his will, grinding up and down until he was dazed and confused.

Just a big, fat erection with a helpless boy on the end, really.

"Just loooook at them!" his addled mind howled at poor Ichigo, and look he did!

Each wobbling orb straining her skimpy top out from the inside was larger than Ichigo's entire head... looking on and on, all he could think about was diving his face between them and letting himself he swallowed up by breasts.

Just a neck jutting out from between that silky, sweat-laced pair, head fully immersed in the sea of Rangiku's melons.

Would any boy be able to resist that kind of handling? It seemed extremely unlikely.

In the end, Ichigo just gave up. Taking a long drag from the roll of weed, Ichigo exhaled, and let his head fall back amidst the couch cushions. He was finally growing more and more relaxed.

Well, didn't he look nice now?

He seemed a lot more approachable now, lazin' back on the club's couch, with a cheap beer in one hand and a smoking joint in the other... unconsciously wigglin' along to those dirty thug beats.

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