Good Reviews

Request for anal in front of an audience. Doing short requests (<500w)!

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It’s late at night, and the room has grown more intimate, warmer.

They’ve closed the screens to the other parts of the room as more patrons have departed, and the ronin left aren’t as rowdy as the one s from earlier in the evening, those who’ve already either passed out, insensible, on the floors or out on the street, or who have gone to bed with one girl or other and fallen asleep snoring beside her, him satisfied, her invariably not.

“You’re pretty enough to be an onnagata,” Tsukasa growls in Haru’s ear, and Haru laughs, the sound coming out hoarse and low, like it always does after a night of smoking and drinking and laughing with the filth-covered bastards who come traipsing through.

“As if you’d believe I was a woman, no matter how they painted my face on stage,” he says, and all the men laugh, and he wonders how many of them get the joke, and how many don’t. There’s seven of them left in the band, and these are the older, more pensive ones, the ones with more stamina for a night’s drinking, if not more wisdom.

Kami is still playing shamisen, the music filling the room, but she does it while two of them all but gnaw on her neck and her tits; Umi is sprawled over the lap of one of the largest of them, his fingers thrusting almost absentmindedly into her cunt, his other hand squeezing at her tit.

Haru is spread out on Tsukasa’s lap, and his legs have to spread wide to part over the thick meat of the ronin’s thighs.

“He has to play wakashū only, this one,” rumbles the one delving into Umi’s cunt like a tanuki reaching its paws into a beehive, and he locks eyes with Haru, grins at him with his well-scarred face, a few teeth missing. Haru can see the twist and strain on Umi’s face, see her lips quivering as she presses her cheek harder into his face — he’s good at this, he’s probably good with his cock, too.

Later.

Once he’s done wringing a few more orgasms out of Umi.

“Best fuck him like a wakashū too, then,” hums Tsukasa, and gripping Haru by the underside of his knees, keeping him spread open, he nudges his cock up against his hole, against his back hole, not the front one, and not without a modicum of force forces himself inside.

Haru’s front hole is open and wet and dripping, already used a few times today and ready for it — his back one is as yet untested, hasn’t been touched in a week, and he howls at the penetration, at the slight burn from Tsukasa’s slick cock, at the way his hole is forced wide open by the pressure and the thickness of it, his thighs quivering, his body squirming.

“A good performance on one stage tonight, a sparkling performance on this one,” Tsukasa laughs, and thrusts up and into him — it’s savage, brutal, and it sends such a shocking pleasure through him, the satisfaction of being filled at the same time as it aches and burns, at the same time as every man in the room watches his hole spread wide. “Let’s see what good reviews we can get you, eh, boy?”

Haru groans, wordless, helpless, overwhelmed, as Tsukasa grabs hold of his little prick with a rough grasp, and tries to hold back from coming as he’s bounced on the bastard’s cock.