Nao Ogino gets possessed by a bound spirit and streams a masturbation show♡3 (Patreon)

Her fingers twitched once—then stillened.

The tension bled from her body all at once, leaving her limp on the bed, the sweatshirt rumpled and damp against feverish skin. Her chest rose and fell slowly, deliberately, the jut of her collarbone catching the dim light. Eyelashes fluttered—then her eyes snapped open, gleaming now with something deeper, darker. Hungry.

"Heh… finally, mine."

Her voice, still hers in pitch, dripped with something else entirely—a slithering, masculine amusement. A palm slid up her stomach, fingers wandering over flushed skin as she rolled onto her side. White hair tumbled in messy waves, blunt fingers shoving it back with a distinctly unfeminine roughness.

"Damn… that little bitch really put up a fight, huh?"

A scoff as she peeled up the hem of the sweatshirt, mapping slick abs, shaky inner thighs—every inch belonging to him now. He pinched a nipple through the bra, drinking in the echo of her memory, lips quirking.

"Shit… forgot how good this feels. A woman’s body…"

Propped up on an elbow, he dragged fingertips along his—her—own throat. The scent—sweat, perfume, the musk underneath—was stronger now. Sharper. Overwhelming. A sidelong glance at the mirror caught him off-guard, throat bobbing.

"Tch… already hard again, even after all that?"

Thighs rubbed together, testing—and the body jolted, oversensitive. A lazy grin spread. The satisfaction of real, hot sensation, after years as just a ghost flickering between walls. A shaky breath broke into something like a moan, quickly bitten back, teeth sinking into that plush lower lip.

"Heh… messed you up good."

A fingertip traced the damp patch on the sweatshirt before licking it clean, salt-sharp and electric. Even the dryness in his throat felt filthy now. An experimental roll of the hips sent leftover pleasure coiling back to life.

A wink at the mirror. She—he— would’ve fainted seeing this face now. His left hand disappeared under the skirt—caressing, claiming, up the curve of a calf with snake-slow greed.

"Hey, you."

Sudden, taunting—addressing the reflection as both hands squeezed hard, fingers digging into pillowy softness.

"Gonna make you cum 'til you break next time…"

Out came his tongue—broad, wet—lapping at the air like some delinquent tasting candy. A playful kick of her legs made the skirt ride higher, pale thighs flashing dangerously close to bare.

"Wait for it… I'll teach you everything…"

The final murmur clung to his reflection’s ears like smoke. Then, in a fluid motion, she— he— slid off the bed, standing tall. A predator in new skin, eyes glinting with conquest.

With one foot planted on the edge of the bed, you—well, he, riding this stolen flesh—hike up the skirt’s hem, letting the fabric pool at your knees. The taut nylon stretches over bare thighs now, the shadow of exploring fingers visible beneath the rucked-up fabric.

"The hell… this feeling—"

Your touch trails higher, skirting the crease of your thigh, dragging purposefully along the damp lace of her panties. The indentations left by the tight elastic, the slick warmth seeping through—all his now. The reflection in the mirror leers back, brimming with crude fascination.

"Wheew. Drenched. You been savin’ up for me, doll?"

A fingertip swipes across soaked fabric, gathering slickness, testing the ruin you made. The sticky mess clings obscenely—so much so that your borrowed spine arches slightly, electric. Christ. Just how many times did she cum before I took over? The thought makes your—his—cheek twitch in mock sympathy. One hand still pawing roughly at the sweatshirt-covered breast, squeezing just to hear the sharp little gasp that follows.

"Sh*t, this soft—"

A nail rakes over the nipple, through fabric, smirking as the body jerks. Your reflection’s face is a grotesque blend—feminine beauty twisted by masculine hunger. A bead of sweat races down the exposed throat, the borrowed Adam’s apple bobbing.

Then the other hand dives further, deeper—sliding past panties now, clutching trembling inner flesh.

"Fuuuuck—feelin’ this, really feelin’ it, ain’t ya?"

A finger traces her (no, your) dripping seam through ruined lace before circling hard, blunt-tipped. Hips buck helplessly.

Your reflection’s eyes flirt with madness.

Got you. Got you forever. ♡

"Tch… nipples and clit, rock-fucking-hard already…"

With a rough tug, you yank the sweatshirt up, dragging your —no, his—tongue over one stiff peak. The mingled taste of salt and perfume floods your senses beneath the hoodie as the body shivers.

Meanwhile, beneath the skirt, your other hand’s middle finger plunges deep—pressing through soaked lace, grinding against swollen, needy flesh.

Your reflection? Destroyed. Arched back, trembling—so obscene, all without an ounce of real control left.

"Hah—quit buckin’ like a damn bitch in heat—"

A cruel press of fingers right there nearly buckles your knees. Legs quivering, barely holding you up—yet your hands (his hands) keep working, keep squeezing, rolling her (your) trembling tit in broad, merciless palms.

Drool drips.

Pathetic.

The skirt hitches higher, panties now fully exposed—precious little lace clinging desperately to slick folds. For a second, you —he— nearly tears them off, only to pause, grinning beast-wide.

Not yet.

"Yeah, yeah… good girl. Gonna teach you so much fuckin’ filth…"

One last flick to the abused nipple—then the hand retreats from your skirt, glistening and slick. Chilled air prickles sweat-sheened thighs, flesh pebbling.

Your reflection stares back: a man’s hunger warping a woman’s soft features.

Slowly, you raise damp fingers to your—his grinning mouth.

Lick.

"Hah. Big tits always mean sensitive, huh?"

Legs spread wider, a knee hiked up shamelessly. The skirt’s useless now—just a rumpled mess as the ruined panties dig deeper, stretched thin. A finger drags down the soaked seam, pressing hard—

Squelch.

"Heh. Whole fuckin’ womb shaking, ain’t it—?"

Mocking, your fingertip pulses side to side. Thighs convulse; toes curl. The sweatshirt collar’s damp between your teeth as you growl, drool almost escaping.

Tits sway—heavy, unrestrained. Every tiny motion sends them rolling, pink peaks chafing fabric. Pain? Pleasure? Who cares?

The mirror shows it all—the desperation, the ruin.

So you push harder.

"Your cunt’s wriggling like it’s fulla aphrodisiac, dumb slut—"

Your palm mashes down, grinding the soaked lace into swollen folds. Heat radiates—fuck, it feels too good just ruining yourself like this. The wetter it gets, the more obscene the sounds.

"Shit… pussy’s just… fuckin’ unreal—"

Your words fracture as your nipple stings—too much, biting fabric to stifle a moan. Spit clings to your chin.

Pressure spikes between your thighs.

"Ah-ah, nope—wanna edge ya first…"

So you let up—just to watch yourself squirm.

Your reflection chases nonexistent relief, hips twitching.

Hands shaking. Ruined.

All his.

"…Hah. Relax. We got time ♡"

A final smack to feverish folds—then release.

Legs still spread.

Dripping.

Sweatshirt drenched.

Tits wrecked.

And your grin—vicious.

Now… let’s play.

Her legs fell open on the bed with a soft thump. The skirt rode up, revealing the unmistakable outline of her shape through damp panties. Fingers descended leisurely, tracing slow circles over the fabric. The faint chill of sweat-dappled skin sent a shiver through her.

"Ahhn…♡"

A startled moan slipped out—eyes glazing, lashes fluttering. Playing the role of a girl discovering pleasure for the first time, even as an unfamiliar thrill coiled in her gut. Her clit stood stiff enough to be seen even through the fabric. The moment her fingertip pressed down and ground against it, her whole body jolted.

"Wh-What is this…? It's so…♡ Feels so weird down there…♡"

Her voice wavered sweetly, holding back the way her hips nearly lifted off the bed. She should be used to this—her body had already been wrecked so many times—but she played the overwhelmed virgin flawlessly. Her right hand kneaded her breast gently while her left index finger pressed harder, relentless.

The fabric grew wetter. Slickness seeped through, making the panties cling obscenely. The pleasure blurred her act—real gasps now mixing in.

"Nngh…! W-Want more… gotta touch more…♡ I’m gonna… go crazy…♡"

She arched her back, letting out exaggerated moans, yet her hips rolled without pretense. A slip of her finger sank too deep, and for a second, her eyes flew open—genuine shock. To think she’d gotten so lucky, possessing a body wired to shatter so easily… Inside her hoodie, her nipples pressed stiff against the fabric, throbbing in time with the relentless strokes.

The mirror reflected it all—the unmistakable debauchery. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, half-lidded eyes. The face of a woman drowning in pleasure. She fought the urge to go faster, keeping her touch deliberately clumsy, drawing it out.

"S-So unfair… feels this good…♡ I might… can’t stop…♡"

Rolling onto her back, she spread wide, shameless. Tugging the panties tight against her heat, stretched sensitive skin—bliss. The pleasure blurred the line between act and reality.

"Haaah…♡ I-I never knew… I was such a dirty girl…♡"

Her giggle was pure, lewd innocence. Fingers moved quicker now, teetering on the edge—until she stopped short. Not yet. A wicked grin curled her lips. Sweat glistened on her forehead, catching the light.

Sprawled on the bed, she arched her back with a wriggle, pressing her knees together even as her body squirmed. The pink sweatshirt was hiked up to expose her bare breasts—no bra to hold them back as they jiggled heavily, pert nipples stiff and glistening under the sunlight. Meanwhile, her skirt stayed firmly in place, though each rub of her slender thighs made the damp patch on her panties grow wider.

"Nngh… gonna touch myself again…♡"

Her fingers slipped beneath the skirt, brushing against the soaked fabric. Heat radiated from her core, the swollen folds beneath throbbing against her fingertips as she traced slow, teasing circles.

"Ah—ahahh…♡ This is bad… I’m—I’m already close…!♡"

A soft whine escaped her as she rocked her hips, not even moving her hand—just pressing firmly against the drenched fabric, letting the pressure alone tease her to the edge. Her lashes fluttered, lips parting as a tiny gasp moistened the sheets. Meanwhile, her other hand kneaded her breast greedily, indulging in the plush softness.

"H-Haaah… my pussy’s so—! Nn!—s-sensitive today…! Feels like it’s—ah!—sucking my finger in…♡"

A sudden pinch—fingers catching the panty-clad lips, squeezing—and her thighs jerked uncontrollably. The reaction delighted her, and she did it again. And again. Each teasing clamp made her hand on her tit clamp down too, plucking and rolling her stiff nipple.

"Ah! Aahn~! No—no, I'm—I’m gonna—I’m gonna—!♡"

Her voice spiraled higher, breathy and needy. A flush burned across her face, eyes glazing as she clenched her thighs—only her hips angled up, searching for just the right spot.

And then—

"Cumming, cumming, cumming—! HyaaaAHHhn…!♡

Her back arched off the bed, fingers clawing at the sheets as pleasure wracked her trembling body. The hand at her pussy stayed pressed tight, grinding mercilessly as the soaked fabric clung to her pulsing heat. Her tits bounced heavily, her nipples hardened like candle flames—her voice tore raw through the room, dragged from her throat.

"Hahh… ngh… uhn…♡"

She blinked dizzily as the aftershocks rolled through her. Fingers still twitched ever so slightly when she pulled them free—a sweet musk wafting from her panties. Sweat and saliva glistened on her heaving chest, while her skirt lay rumpled around her waist, the lace of her panties leaving angry red marks on her inner thighs.

"…I really came hard… didn’t I…?♡"

A slow, sated smile spread as she collapsed onto the mattress. Her body still trembled in little spasms—and yet, each one felt… so good. ♡