The room was quiet now.
Utterly still.
Only the soft breathing of the girls—Mei, Hana, Aoi, and even Akemi—filled the air, scattered like precious dolls across the now-crowded bed, their nude bodies tangled in sheets and afterglow. Each of them bore a flushed face and exhausted smile, lips slightly parted, skin kissed pink by pleasure and passion.
Even Akemi, ethereal and pale, lay among them, her translucent body curled around a pillow as if she too had joined them in their moment of intimacy—which she did, and touched only by him. Her ghostly skin shimmered faintly in the soft lamp glow, her expression serene, as if dreaming.
Ito sat at the edge of the bed, silently pulling the covers higher over them. They looked peaceful. Satisfied.
Loved.
But he wasn't alone.
A figure moved in the dim light.
Aisha.
Naked, sitting elegantly on her knees in front of him, her perfect form bathed in the amber glow of the night lamp. Her long black hair cascaded down her back and over her round breasts, which rose and fell gently with every quiet breath.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her thighs glistened faintly. Her lips—both sets—were still parted from earlier, but her eyes burned again.
A soft hunger.
A familiar heat.
One that hadn't yet cooled.
"...Still want to go?" Ito asked, raising a brow, his voice low, teasing.
Aisha met his eyes.
And nodded.
No hesitation.
No words needed.
She wanted more.
And he understood.
They weren't new to this. They had done it every night since she first gave herself to him, almost like it was a ritual. A promise of affection. Of eternity.
But this time, the bed was full.
"...It's crowded," Ito said with a small chuckle, motioning to the unconscious girls.
Aisha glanced over her shoulder.
Mei was hugging a pillow, drooling slightly.
Hana was sleeping like a cute puppy.
Aoi clung to Ito's discarded shirt, face buried in it like a safety blanket.
And Akemi floated just above the bed sheets, her ghostly form lightly glowing, her hand resting against Ito's pillow as though she had finally found comfort in the world of the living.
Aisha turned back, then smiled softly. "Then… how about a futon?"
Her voice was low. Sultry. But still wrapped in that loving warmth only she had.
"A futon, huh?"
"On the floor," she added, crawling forward slightly. Her breasts swayed with the motion. "Just us. Like we always do."
He met her gaze, lips curling. "I'll set it up."
Aisha kissed his cheek before he rose. Her lips were warm. Longing.
Ito walked to the closet, careful not to step on scattered clothing. He laid out the futon quickly, smoothing the sheets. Aisha joined him a moment later, kneeling before him again, her expression calmer now—loving, serene, but smoldering with desire beneath the surface.
He sat down.
She straddled him.
Their lips met.
This time, there was no rush.
No teasing. No awkward flustered reactions. No resistance.
Just hunger.
And trust.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing their bare bodies together. Her skin was soft, her scent familiar—vanilla, faint antiseptic, and the warmth of shared memories. His hands glided down her back, settling on the curve of her hips.
"Aisha…"
"Shh," she whispered. "Just make love to me."
She leaned down, kissing his collarbone, his chest, then trailed her tongue up to his jawline, her breath warm and trembling.
"I've wanted this…" she admitted. "I waited. Let them have their firsts. But now… I want you all to myself."
"You have me," he murmured, flipping her gently.
Now she lay beneath him, hair fanned out like a halo, eyes locked with his.
"Every day. Every night. I'll never stop loving you."
"Then show me," she whispered, spreading her legs.
And he did.
Their bodies met in a slow, deliberate thrust—deep, smooth, practiced.
Aisha moaned softly, her hands curling into the sheets, hips rising to meet him. The sensation of him entering her again—so familiar yet new every time—made her entire body throb with warmth.
"Ito… yes…" she sighed, her voice breathy, musical.
He moved slowly.
There was no rush this time.
No pressure.
Only the rhythm of love.
His hands roamed her curves, memorizing every line, every dip and swell. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, watching her eyes flutter with every movement.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, his breath tickling her lips.
She smiled up at him, cupping his cheeks.
"You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
Their mouths met again, deeper this time. Her tongue danced with his, soft moans swallowed between kisses.
Her hips rocked with his rhythm, matching his pace.
Every thrust sent shivers through her core.
Every stroke filled her more completely.
"A-ahh… yes… just like that…"
His hands slid down her waist, lifting her hips slightly, angling deeper.
Her back arched off the futon.
"Itooo~!"
The sound of her voice was different.
Not shy like Aoi.
Not stubborn like Mei.
Not teasing like Hana.
Aisha's moans were pure.
Sincere.
Overflowing with love.
She wrapped her legs around him, locking him in, holding him close.
He responded by picking up speed, his hips slapping against her with soft, wet sounds, skin meeting skin.
Her breath quickened.
Her eyes glazed.
"You feel even tighter tonight…" he murmured against her neck.
"Because I missed you," she confessed, gasping as he hit deeper. "Even if we do it every day, I always… always miss you."
He kissed the corner of her eye, catching the tear she didn't know had escaped.
"I'm right here."
"Then stay."
"I always will."
He quickened again.
Her hands clutched at his back.
Her nails dragged faint lines down his skin.
"Ahh~! Ito, I'm… I'm close…!"
"Hold on… just a little more…"
Their lips locked again as he ground against her deeply, his entire body pressing down into her.
Her toes curled.
Her thighs trembled.
Her cries grew louder—but he kissed them away.
She broke.
Her entire body spasmed as she came around him, eyes wide, mouth agape in silent moan.
He didn't stop.
He kept going, riding her through the high, letting her body cling and tighten and shake beneath him.
"I want to feel you again," he whispered. "Can you?"
She nodded rapidly, still panting.
"Yes… yes… take me again… I want to break from you, Ito…"
He lifted her legs higher, placing them over his shoulders.
Then began again.
Harder.
Deeper.
Relentless.
Her screams were muffled by his mouth, by the way her body couldn't form words anymore.
Sweat dripped from both of them. Their skin slid together, the futon beneath soaked with their heat and love.
Time blurred.
She lost count of her orgasms.
He didn't stop.
Not until he kissed her deeply and finally spilled himself inside, both of them trembling, gasping, desperate.
When it ended, he collapsed beside her, pulling her close.
Aisha was shaking.
Tears wet her cheeks—but she was smiling.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too."
She clutched his hand tightly.
Then leaned into his chest, sighing.
"I'm so happy I found you."
"Me too, Aisha."
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END IF CHAPTER : 59 : ALL OF US : PART : 11 : MY NURSE, MY EVERYTHING!
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