Tamako sat on the edge of the couch, laundry spread across her lap, trying to focus. But the memory hit her again—the brief, shocking glimpse of Nobita in the bathroom. Naked, soaked, his cock unusually big even soft… and her mind couldn't escape it.
Her hands faltered over the clothes. Heat pooled low in her stomach, and her thighs pressed together instinctively. She shifted slightly, then began grinding, rubbing herself through her panties without even realizing. A shiver ran down her spine.
"Oh… oh, I need to… keep calm," she whispered, biting her lip. Her fingers drifted under her skirt, brushing against her slick folds, rubbing herself slowly as her body trembled. "It's… it's Nobita…"
Her pulse raced, heart hammering. The thought of him—his body, the water glistening on his skin, his cock—made her ache. "Was… was he… masturbating?" she murmured, almost to herself, shivering at the thought.
Her hips pressed harder against her fingers, grinding as if to will herself to sanity, but the need was too strong. She groaned softly, slick seeping through her soaked panties, warmth spreading along her thighs.
A second later, reality hit her: her panties were drenched, soaked through from her own heat. She froze, hand still between her legs, realizing she needed to change. Her mind was spinning, heart pounding, every nerve screaming from the memory of Nobita, every thought filthy and obsessed.
She pushed herself to sit straighter, adjusting her skirt and reaching to swap her panties, trying to keep calm, but her fingers lingered for a second too long, brushing herself again despite her attempts to stay composed. Every image of him—wet, naked, cock pulsing in the bath—kept her breath ragged and her thighs trembling.
Tamako's face burned, heat pooling in her chest and lower, body betraying her completely. She muttered under her breath, half to herself, half in disbelief: "God… I… can't… it's him… and… and he's just a boy… but…" Her fingers paused on her damp panties, heart hammering, realizing she couldn't stop thinking about him and what she'd seen.
Tamako's cheeks burned hotter than ever as her fingers lingered over her soaked panties. A wicked thought shot through her mind, making her freeze mid-breath. Slowly, deliberately, she picked them up and carried them toward the bathroom door, placing them somewhere Nobita would see them easily. Her pulse raced, heat pooling low in her stomach, but her rational mind screamed at her to stop.
She stepped back, stomach twisting. She'd taken a small risk… a little thrill, just enough to see if he noticed. And for a moment, she considered going completely panties-less, letting the air kiss her most sensitive spots as she tried to calm herself.
But then she froze, heart hammering, fingers trembling. The thought alone made her thighs clench, slick gathering between them. She swallowed hard, stepping back and pressing her hands against her chest, as if to physically restrain herself from doing anything more.
"What… what am I thinking?" she muttered, voice shaking. "I'm not… a cock-hungry whore…" Her cheeks flamed, body betraying her as every memory of Nobita—wet, naked, cock pulsing—burned in her mind.
She straightened abruptly, smoothing her skirt, gripping the edge of the laundry basket as if it could anchor her sanity. Slowly, shakily, she inhaled, trying to regain her composure, forcing herself to act normal, ordinary, as if the last few minutes of filthy fantasy and touch had never happened.
But even as she told herself that, her body betrayed her, hips shifting unconsciously, fingers itching to touch again, thighs glistening from the memory of her own trembling arousal. Her soaked panties lay where he could see them, an accidental invitation—or maybe not so accidental—but she quickly pushed the thought aside.
"No… no, I can't… I am not that kind of woman," she whispered fiercely, voice low, trembling, but determined. She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on folding laundry again, on anything that would pull her mind away from the filthy, impossible image of him, naked and dripping, just a moment ago.
Her pulse still raced, lower stomach tight, every nerve on fire, but Tamako forced herself upright, squaring her shoulders, willing herself to act calm, rational… normal.