Neighborhood Orgy - Chapter 37

Monday morning blues aren't really a thing for me.

Or rather, to be honest, I feel a sense of melancholy from Sunday straight through to Saturday.

It’s not just because I’ve been living alone since New Year’s of my second year in middle school; for some reason, the clouds in my heart never quite seem to clear. There’s always this vague anxiety, and it’s hard to chase it away—to make it vanish. Maybe that’s why, since I was little, people have always felt the need to lend me a hand.

Even now, after the first period has ended, Aoi-san—the petite beauty with the large chest sitting next to me—is still worrying over me. Is my complexion really that bad?

Well, I probably have dark circles under my eyes, and I’m simultaneously sleepy and utterly lethargic. Come to think of it, I’ve felt quite strange ever since yesterday, around the time I saw those two cleaning ladies off at the front door and locked the gate.

That's because the abnormally heightened libido I’d felt until that morning had simply... vanished.

No, "vanished" isn't the right word. It was more like I was satisfied. It felt good. I think it was because of the dream I had. It felt like the impurities had been drained from my brain; I felt lighter. On the flip side, with the unnecessary memories gone, even my future plans and the accompanying anxieties disappeared. My heart felt like it was beating easier, but at the same time, I felt lightheaded, as if I might collapse.

After the two of them left, I lay down on the long sofa in the living room. On the table sat the folded leggings and other items belonging to Reina-san. While I thought about how I needed to return them, I felt absolutely nothing regarding what they represented.

Before my nap, just looking at those would have made me recall Reina-san and spiral into a lewd fantasy; I probably would have had an erection just at the sight of them. But for some reason, there was no reaction.

I remember dreaming—a very comfortable dream. Someone’s words, a very warm woman, and... yes, I ejaculated in the dream. My exhaustion at school today isn't from a lack of sleep; it’s from oversleeping and dreaming too much.

It felt as if I’d experienced several years in a single night’s slumber. For instance, even the way Aoi-san is looking at me now with that concerned, suspicious face as she whispers a few words—it was exactly as I saw it in my dream. I felt like I could almost quote the closing lines of a certain novel: "But I felt that if anything were to happen now, it might instantly become an event within that dream." I was excited by my own state, and yet, I was exhausted to my very limit.

Closing my eyes as I slumped on the sofa, I wondered if I could return to that dream. I remembered something similar happening when I was much younger. It was when I first got my own room and was so happy to have a full set of audio equipment that I fell asleep with the radio on. It was a Saturday afternoon, I think.

I was in a rural landscape. A single-track train was running, and I could hear people talking; I knew there was a story unfolding. I was looking down at them and the scenery from a detached, aerial perspective. It was incredibly pleasant, yet their emotions gripped my heart. When the pain became too much, I woke up to find the continuation of my dream playing out as a radio drama.

I’m sure everyone has experienced something like that.

But today felt so much like that—even though no radio or video was playing. If so, did someone—one of those two cleaning ladies, or maybe both—speak to me?

As I dozed on the sofa and the world went silent, it felt as if a pair of hands descended from above to tickle my nipples, before pulling me into a warm embrace. My lower half felt a sense of relief—a sensation different from what I felt with Mayumi-san, the teacher, Aoi-san’s mother, or Reina-san. It was like being swallowed by a melting fluid, being sucked in until I ejaculated. It felt like a fleeting moment, yet also like a very, very long nap together. My body from the navel down was played with fervently; the "scum" was thoroughly drained out of me. So much was taken that my very essence felt frayed, my muscles torn to shreds, my bones riddled with cracks.

But it wasn't unpleasant. Lying on that sofa in a clean room with the scent of fresh air, I felt I could go back to that moment. The phonemes of the words left in my ears vibrated in the water where my brain floated. I stared at the overly bright ceiling light for a moment, and then slowly closed my eyelids.

And then I woke up at 3:00 AM. Still dark.

For some reason, I soaked in the bathtub in a daze until the sun rose. The screen in the cleaned bathroom was left open, so I could see deep into the blue of the winter night sky. At 6:30 AM, I finally went to the kitchen to fill my empty stomach, tried to cook some rice, turned on the TV, and got dressed.

Yeah, I’m managing.

But what would have happened if I’d been tempted further during those "witching hours"? Strangely, even when I recall the indecorous dream, I don't get an erection like I did when remembering my first time with Mayumi-san. Maybe it’s because it was just a dream.

It wasn't anyone in particular, though the figure resembled one of the cleaners. She peered down at me as I slept. Because it was a dream, the detached perspective was interesting. I was stripped naked, my legs were spread, and my whole body was caressed. When I tried to endure it, she bit into my right flank.

When you wake up, look at this and do it yourself, the words entered my mind.

Timidly, I moved my face to look at the spot with the bite mark, and there, the clear imprint of a woman's teeth was sunk into my skin. A "toothless" woman buried her face in my crotch, her tongue lolling out, taking my testicles and the base of my shaft into her mouth, crawling up the rod, and finally sliding over the glans.

"Hold my hand," I thought I heard a whisper.

Since it was a dream, could she speak even with her mouth full? I reached out and squeezed the hand that was offered.

Come to think of it, I remember reading a story about a father who pulled out all the teeth of his blind, beautiful daughter because "the customers liked it." There was also a story about an old man living with his mad daughter; the village youths gang-raped her. Eventually, the old man died, and the woman—her belly growing large while she wasted away like a hungry ghost—created a hellish scene like an illustration from Rashomon.

And when I scavenged through my father's old magazines in the warehouse, I read that in the old days, every village had a "madwoman," and when she became pregnant, all the men in the village would tremble with fear. Because every single one of them had ravished her.

Sexual impulses are like that, and I was no different until this morning.

Whatever changed within a single sleep, I can only blame someone else. Right now—I don't know if this is a dream, a lucid dream, or if I'm just half-asleep—but arms reaching from the ceiling are tickling my chest. It feels so good. My genitals are healthily erect, and that toothless mouth takes me in. It’s a pleasure so intense I feel I might ascend—lukewarm, squelching, the smooth surface of the gums and the firm pressure behind them stimulating my cock rhythmically. Everything in front of me is turning white.

And then I realize my fingertips are stirring a valley overflowing with warm fluid. Ah, my fingers are being eaten by a pussy. When I instinctively curl my index and middle fingers, the owner of the pussy lets out a louder groan.

Ah... it was the moment I realized, once again, that I am a man.

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