CHAPTER 53: CHAPTER 53 : ALONE IN AIRA’S HOME

The next day, Haruto didn’t go to school. He woke up early, but his heart felt heavy. The thought of going out, seeing people, or even walking the same path he used to take with Kana made his chest tighten. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, staring blankly at the floor, feeling the silence of the morning pressing around him.

After a while, he went downstairs for breakfast. His grandfather had already prepared the meal — simple rice and miso soup like always. Haruto ate quietly, answering only when his grandfather spoke. His heart wasn’t in it. Every bite tasted dull, and the silence between them felt louder than usual.

When breakfast was over, Haruto went back upstairs to his room. The wooden steps creaked softly under his feet. As soon as he opened the door, something unusual caught his eye.

On the floor near the window, there was a small rock. A folded piece of paper was placed neatly under it, as if someone had left it there to make sure it wouldn’t blow away. The window was slightly open — the thin white curtain swayed gently in the breeze.

Haruto walked closer, frowning a little. He picked up the rock and unfolded the paper carefully.

Inside, there was a simple hand-drawn sketch — a location. It looked like a small map of the countryside, pointing toward a house not too far away. The drawing wasn’t detailed, but it was clear enough to follow.

At the bottom of the page, in soft handwriting, was a name:

— Aira

Haruto looked at it quietly for a few seconds.

So it was Aira’s doing.

She had left this note for him, inviting him to come to her home.

He stood there by the window, holding the paper in one hand and the small stone in the other, the morning breeze brushing gently across his face. Outside, the world looked calm — but inside, his heart was quietly stirring again.

Haruto stepped through the front door of Aira’s modest apartment, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air from a candle on the living room table. Aira, dressed in a loose white tank top and pink shorts that hugged her hips, greeted him with a warm smile. "Hey, Haruto! You made it," she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug, her body pressing briefly against his.

They walked hand-in-hand down the short hallway to her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, posters of pop idols on the walls, and a queen-sized bed with rumpled pink sheets in the center. Aira turned to face him, her cheeks flushing slightly as she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him closer by his shirt.

"Haruto," she whispered, looking up into his eyes with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "My period ended today. It’s gone. We... we can have sex now, if you want."

Haruto’s fingers found the hem of Aira’s loose white tank top, sliding it upward inch by inch, the soft cotton brushing over the smooth plane of her stomach, past the gentle curve of her ribcage, until the fabric caught briefly under her breasts. She lifted her arms, and the shirt slipped free, revealing a simple pale-pink bra with thin straps that dug faint lines into her shoulders. The bra cupped her small, firm breasts, the lace edging barely concealing the darker pink of her areolas peeking through the sheer mesh.

Aira’s hands moved to Haruto’s black T-shirt, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion; his lean chest came into view, skin warm and lightly tanned, a faint trail of dark hair running from his navel downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. She traced the line with a fingertip, then unbuttoned his jeans, the metallic rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet room. The denim slid down his hips, pooling at his ankles; he stepped out, kicking them aside, now in nothing but dark-gray boxer briefs that clung to the pronounced bulge at the front, the fabric stretched taut over the outline of his hardening length.

Haruto reached behind Aira, unhooking her bra with a single practiced flick; the straps loosened, sliding down her arms until the cups fell away. Her breasts—small, pert, nipples already stiffened into tight rosebuds—were fully exposed, the cool air raising tiny goosebumps across her skin. She let the bra drop to the floor, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pink shorts. She shimmied them down her thighs, the soft cotton dragging over the curve of her hips, revealing matching pale-pink panties, the front panel slightly darkened with a faint damp spot. The shorts joined the growing pile of clothes.

Haruto’s boxer briefs came next; he pushed them down, the elastic snapping lightly against his skin as his erection sprang free—thick, veined, the flushed head already glistening with a bead of precum. The briefs caught briefly on his thighs before falling, leaving him completely bare except for the thin sheen of nervous sweat along his collarbone.

Aira’s panties were last. She slid them down slowly, the fabric peeling away from the slick folds between her legs, a thin string of arousal stretching and breaking as the crotch separated from her skin. The panties dropped, and she stepped out, now in nothing but the faint flush spreading across her chest and the glistening wetness coating her inner thighs. Both stood in only their underwear—no, now none at all—just skin, heat, and the low hum of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows over their bodies.

Aira’s fingers curled into the elastic waistband of her pale-pink panties, the fabric already darkened and clinging where her arousal had soaked through. She tugged downward slowly; the cotton peeled away from her skin with a soft, wet sound, threads of her slickness stretching like thin syrup before snapping. The panties slid over the swell of her hips, down her thighs, and dropped to the floor in a damp heap.

Haruto’s gaze dropped instantly.

Between Aira’s legs, a dense triangle of coarse, jet-black pubic hair fanned out in wild curls, thickest above her slit and tapering down the outer lips. The hair was drenched—glossy, matted strands plastered flat against her mound, each curl shimmering with her viscous wetness. Pearly beads of arousal clung to individual hairs like dew on grass, some stretched in sticky bridges between curls, others dripping in slow, heavy drops that traced glistening paths down the inside of her pale thighs. The swollen lips beneath were flushed deep pink, parted slightly, revealing the slick inner folds that pulsed with every breath.

Haruto’s mouth watered. The scent hit him next—rich, tangy, unmistakably her—rising from the soaked hair. He sank to his knees, hands sliding up the backs of her thighs to grip her ass, pulling her forward. His tongue extended flat and broad, dragging upward through the drenched curls in one long, deliberate lick. The coarse hair scraped his tongue as he gathered the sticky fluid, the taste exploding across his senses: salty, slightly sweet, with a faint metallic edge. He pressed deeper, lips sealing around the top of her slit, sucking gently; the wet hairs tickled his nose as he burrowed in.

Aira’s knees buckled slightly. She moaned, fingers digging into his scalp. Haruto’s tongue flicked faster now—circling her clit through the soaked bush, lapping at the slick strands that coated it, drawing them into his mouth. He swallowed, then dove lower, tracing the seam of her lips, pushing through the hair to taste the source. Each lick pulled more wetness free, smearing it across his lips and chin, the sticky strands stretching from her pussy to his tongue before breaking.

He groaned into her, the vibration making her thighs tremble, and kept licking—hungry, relentless, savoring every drop tangled in her hair.

Haruto’s tongue flattened again, dragging upward through the soaked curls in a slow, deliberate stripe that started at the bottom of her slit and ended with a flick over her clit. The coarse hairs scraped the flat of his tongue, each one coated in her thick, syrupy wetness; he tasted the sharp tang of her arousal, felt the sticky strands cling to his lips before he sucked them in. Aira’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, thighs trembling as she spread them wider, giving him more.

He sealed his mouth over her mound, lips pressing into the drenched bush, nose buried in the wet hair. His tongue speared inside her, pushing past the slick folds, curling to scoop out the fresh gush of fluid that welled up. The taste flooded him, hot, salty-sweet, coating the back of his throat. He swallowed, then pulled back just enough to watch a fresh bead of her wetness form on a single curl, thick and pearlescent, before leaning in to lap it away with the tip of his tongue. The hair tickled his chin as he worked, strands sticking to his cheeks, his lips, his tongue, until his entire lower face glistened with her.

Aira’s breath came in sharp gasps; her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. Haruto groaned into her, the vibration rumbling through her clit. He sucked harder, drawing the swollen nub between his lips, rolling it gently while his tongue flicked through the soaked curls, chasing every last drop. More wetness spilled out, dripping down his chin in slow rivulets, matting the hair at the base of her pussy even darker. He kept licking, relentless, savoring the slick heat, the sticky texture, the raw taste of her tangled in her own hair.