Bleach: Beach

BY : c0p13r
Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 17525
Disclaimer: i don't own 'bleach', and i don't make money off any of my fics

Unohana’s Shower Therapy Treatment
Random Ichigo/Unohana PWP.  A mess of watermelon stickiness; bouncy women everywhere he turns; Ichigo feels that he needs a shower more than the beach.  Little does he know that he’s caught someone’s eye…
Tags: Anal, Fingering, HJ, Parody (Ep. 228)
            “Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue bounced.
            “Ichigo~!”  Rangiku-san heaved.
            “Ichigo!”  Yoruichi-san wobbled.
            All around, in fact, were chests that floundered in the frolic of beach play.  It was hard – very hard! – not to notice, especially since the Shinigami Women’s Association chose what must’ve been the skimpiest outfits they could find!  What was not skimpy was luring in other ways, preying on fetish instead of eye-candy.
            But Ichigo was a man of conviction!  He would not be swayed to gander at these women in an unsavory way!  Not when they had invited him to the beach – even though he hadn’t cared to come in the first place…  He’d preoccupy himself with sandcastle competitions, surf swimming, and smashing giant watermelon monsters.
            Renji certainly was having a lot of fun doing the latter.  He laughed uproariously, smashing his Zabimaru through the stems of the last-standing creature, making it lose its balance.  As Zabimaru retracted to land on his shoulder, he smirked and gloated how this game was simple for a Shinigami of his caliber; he made sure to berate Ichigo for being a slacker who forgot his Zanpakutou like an amateur.  Ichigo countered the rebuttal, grumbling that a day at the beach should go well without Hollow interference.  Renji laughed at the pathetic excuse, and wanted to berate him more, but something caught his eye.
            “Abarai~” sang Rangiku, waving high and enthusiastically.  “That was amazing~!”  A woman of her kind, a simple wave could easily change into a hearty jostle that Renji’s eyes could not ignore.  The back-and-forth sway of her chest made his face match his hair and his concentration break.
            He’d all but forgotten the watermelon dropping down on him until it was too late.
            Ichigo was standing just out of range of the fall, but nonetheless was doused by the spray of watermelon juice.  He grimaced at the mess covering him, and then realized Renji’s plight.  “Renji!”  He looked at the crash site where bits of watermelon were collected.  And in the middle, Renji twitched and babbled nonsensically.  The sense had been knocked out of him.  At once, he called for someone to help.
            And who better to help with an injury than the top healer in all Soul Society?
            The elegant Captain of the Fourth Squad walked up with Kotetsu Isane at her heels.  Peering down at the lieutenant of the Sixth Squad, Unohana smiled and, with a small laugh, said, “My, it looks like Abarai-kun has been having too much fun.”
            “Well, are you going to help him?” Ichigo asked.  With Ikkaku gone deep-sea fishing for sharks – finding it to be more of a challenge than watermelons, and safer than being on shore with his mischievous lieutenant – Renji was really the only one around on Ichigo’s level of beach enjoyment; Chad and Uryuu – who he wouldn’t hang around with anyway – were too devoted to their work to just leave.
            “Isane, move Abarai-kun to the shade.  He should stay out of the sun while he rests.”  Those were Unohana’s only words on the subject, and Isane dutifully dragged Renji away with the help of her younger sister.  Watching Renji – who was foaming at the mouth and bleeding from the ears from a probable concussion – Ichigo murmured if it was really best to just set him to the side and not perform any sort of treatment.
            The men – save for the by-standing Ukitake, Sentarou and Byakuya – were all out of the picture, leaving only the eye-drawing women to prance around in the sun and surf.  Now there was nothing – nothing!­ – to distract Ichigo from the jiggle and bobbing of the women.  He stood in his place for a moment, awkwardly gestating as he watched Orihime frolic along the edge of the waves with Yachiru.  His eyes turned in time to see Rangiku whine as some of her vanilla popsicle dripped onto her large bust.  And from her, Ichigo’s stare was just in time to see Yoruichi paw at Soifon’s backside while whispering something inappropriate in the smaller woman’s ear; this was assumed, because he could not hear, but whatever was said made Soifon’s stern features alter to a flushed look of apprehension.
            These women!
            Renji and Ikkaku diluted the appeal of the beach!  Now it was a place of paradise for Kon!
            “It must be nice for you,” said the serene voice next to him.
            Ichigo turned and found that Unohana had not yet left his side.  Blinking at her vague statement, he asked, “What do you mean?”
            She turned her head to him, tilting to one side with that motherly smile that made his stomach suddenly flutter.  “To be young,” she said.  “And to be surrounded by so many beautiful women.  A healthy boy like you; it must be very pleasant to watch.”
            Ichigo flushed, looking like he took offense to the assumption that he enjoyed ogling the women.  He certainly had an appropriate sense of them, knew that he enjoyed it in some perverse part of his mind, but had the will to look the other way!  “I’m not like that,” he stammered, folding his arms and turning his back to the women as if to prove his point and chivalry.  His eyes were closed, and he spoke out of the corner of his mouth, “I only came because you asked me to.”
            There was a light laugh from the Captain.  He peeked at her with a sidelong glance, wondering what was so funny.  “My, when you say it like that,” she said, touching the side of her lower face with her fingertips, “it sounds like you came here just for me.”
            At once, the aloof pose exploded to an overly-anxious one.  Ichigo waved his hands in front of him, now facing Unohana directly while jabbering, “It’s not like that!  I just thought, maybe you needed my help or something!”
            “And when you say that,” Unohana retorted with the same smile, “you make me sound like a feeble old lady.”
            Her wit was so quick; Ichigo fumbled over his own tongue trying to come up with a way to amend what was just said.  “No, no!  I meant that…!”  Under Unohana’s unwavering-yet-kindly gaze, he felt all the more panicked until she placed the crook of her finger underneath her lower lip and giggled softly.
            “You get so flustered, Kurosaki-san.  It’s nice to know, even at my age, I can get such a young man nervous.”
            Ichigo jabbered again, unable to come up with an appropriate response that would sway this older – but no less attractive – woman from the teasing insinuations she took from him.  It was best, he finally thought, to somehow back away.
            Ichigo blinked suddenly when he heard the voice.  Turning, he saw that Yachiru was waving over at him while Kurotsuchi Nemu was just finishing setting up a volleyball net.  The pink-haired child giggled excitedly at him.  “C’mon!  It’s time for volleyball!”  Already, the girls were gathering in teams; unsurprisingly, Rangiku and Orihime were paired up and Nemu took her place at the side of a reluctant-looking Nanao.
            “I…I’m the vice-president,” she mumbled to herself.  “I have to play.”
            It was the perfect opportunity to slip away from Unohana-san!  Ichigo may not have been the best at volleyball, but if it meant getting out from under the haunting gaze, he’d take it!  Something about her tranquil features always made his – and everyone else’s – stomach clench, do flip-flops, or fill with butterflies.
            Ichigo was currently afflicted with all three!
            “Ah!  Sorry, Unohana-san,” he said in his best fake-cheery voice and smile.  He pointed with his thumb.  “They need me to play!  See ya!”  He was off before he would risk a second for Unohana to pull him back.  She made no attempt to wind him back to her; she simply watched him with a glint in her eye.
            “Ichi will be on Team Big-Boobies!” Yachiru cheered while pointing over to where Rangiku and Orihime stood.  Even when they were in a lax stance, Ichigo felt it was wrong to look at them; Rangiku-san looked like the strings of her bikini were getting ready to burst, popping one thread at a time!  And Inoue…!  He’d never seen more of her body before!
            To draw attention away from the first trickle of a nosebleed, he cleared his throat, looked away, and discretely wiped at his nose.  He wanted to keep his eyes on the sand or sky as much as possible.
            “Ichigo!” Rukia snapped from the other side of the net.  She stood in a pompous manner: smirk on her face and arms crossed over her chest.  “You’d better not think you can go easy on us!  Do your best!”
            Ichigo frowned and sighed, muttering a ‘Yeah, Yeah’ to her enthusiastic and challenging banter.  The sooner this day was over, the sooner he’d actually get to relax.
            Isane, on Unohana’s ‘gentle’ command, joined Team Big-Boobies – a name which made the self-conscious lieutenant gauge her assets, assess them to her female teammates, and wonder if she had a right to be on a team so aptly named.  She certainly was above Nanao’s caliber, Rangiku hollered loud enough for the vice-president to hear, causing a loud exchange between team captains.
            When the squabble ended, both teams were allowed a few minutes for strategy.  And Ichigo immediately regretted joining the huddle.  “I say we use our breasts to hit the ball,” Rangiku said with a sly smile.  She acted as though Ichigo wasn’t even there, hefting up her heavy melons, displaying them like a secret weapon.  “It’ll distract Nanao!”
            While Orihime was impressed with Rangiku’s tact, Ichigo asked if she was serious, red in the face from the idea of her plan of attack.  Surely, Rangiku did not plan to do such lewd things…

            Both Orihime and Rangiku stuck to the plan, bouncing the ball up in the air with their supported breasts.  And as planned, Nanao was outrageously distracted by this, spewing flustered lectures at what Rangiku was teaching the others.  Despite Nemu’s skill, even she could not save all the balls.  Rangiku’s plan had worked, giving them a strong lead over the Upperclass (as that was what Nanao named their team).
            Though the ‘boobie-bouncer’ was an upset, there was drawback.  Ichigo now found it dangerous to stand behind Rangiku and Orihime, but even hearing Rangiku cheer “That was a big bounce, Orihime!”, it was a big enough distraction.  It goaded Ichigo’s limits of chivalry, prodding him with the temptation that one little peek backward would not be the end of the world.
            Isane did a good save with her arms, but met with a rebuke from Rangiku.  “No!  With your chest!  Your chest!” she shouted at Isane, demonstrating the process by squeezing hers together, making the silver-haired woman flush and refuse as politely as possible.
            Ichigo, however, was not paying attention.  The ball was in the air, coming down fast on their side despite Isane’s save.  He pivoted to whack the ball in the other direction, but collided with Rangiku.  His swiping hand brushed upward, and on his fingertip, he carried Rangiku’s top upward.
            The huge hills spilled out as if grateful when her white bikini relinquished them.  And as if the sight wasn’t glorious enough, the dropping ball hit and bounced off of them, causing them to jiggle so much that Ichigo’s eyes were magnetized to the sight!
            “Oh~” Rangiku whined with the concern of dropping an ice cream cone.  Leisurely, she put an arm over her broad, pink nipples – not nearly in time for Ichigo to have guiltily sketched them forever in his mind – and watched her top land in the sand seconds before that whacky ball bounced near it.  She turned to Ichigo and leered.  He was stunned, far too stunned to even manage an apology or excuse or even a stammer.  “What a bad boy, Ichigo,” she scolded with a pout.  Intentional or not, her arm pushed against her chest and made her globes swell and further the lusciousness of her cleavage; it was all Ichigo could do to keep his eyes locked with hers.  “I didn’t think you’d go so far for a peek.”
            “I-I didn’t,” he said, panicked.  He didn’t want to cause more of a fuss than he already had.  He was already stressed enough; he didn’t need the combined judgment and scorn of the Association coming down on him.
            Nanao ignored Ichigo, instead putting the blame on Rangiku for no other reason than their natural eternal dispute.  She shouldn’t have been wearing such scandalous two piece, ignoring the fact that she herself was wearing a two piece with padding, no less!  As it turned out, the only one scrutinizing him was Rukia, sneering at him like he had planned this all along.
            He would not risk her rebuke.  As the two team captains engaged and became the focus of attention, he took the opportunity to slink away.  When he was far enough away, his subtle steps turned into a quick dash.  The beach shower stalls were behind the shack; they were the perfect place to hide out, clean up, and leave!
            He had thought that nobody would notice, but he was quite wrong.  Serene eyes were trained on him when he made his escape, studying him; examining him.  Underneath those doe eyes was a pleasant, unreadable smile.
            Ichigo shuffled through the sands as quickly as he could.  Even though he was satisfactorily far enough from the group, in the solitary grounds between the volleyball game and the shower stalls, he didn’t want to call attention to the way his trunks tented awkwardly against the side of his right thigh.
            How humiliating!  Though the cause of this pitiful endeavor, he had to also be thankful that Rangiku’s unveiling caused enough of a stir to rile up Nanao and make a scene.  It was finally time for him to take a breather.  With Ikkaku and Renji in play, he was distracted; with them gone or incapacitated, the influence of ‘bouncy’ women wasn’t diluted.  His trunks, in truth, had been uncomfortable for some time.  It was not just because of his straining erection, but the undercarriage as well, pulsating with a roiling load eager to be ejected.  He could suppress the urge, but heading to the sanctity of these far-away showers, he contemplated the shame of easing that tension.
            A cold shower…  He needed it.  A very cold one…  Maybe Rukia or Toushirou could lend a hand by sending a freezing attack his way!  No doubt Rukia would be happy to oblige, after accusing him of violating the sanctity of the Association’s vacation day.
            Ichigo found a very-unwanted blockade.  Uryuu was standing in front of him, lithe, yet unyielding, his Quincy bow brandished and loaded with an arrow.  On his face was a scowl deeper than the usual one when addressing Ichigo.
            Not at all who Ichigo wanted to see…  Growling back at the Quincy, he blurted, “What the hell, Ishida?”
            “Is it true?  You disrobed Matsumoto-san?”  Uryuu wasn’t one to beat around the bush, especially when it came to accusing Ichigo of stupidity or wrongdoings.  His scowl increased, lips curling from his gritting teeth and lines etching deeper in his face.  “I thought that you wouldn’t sink so low.”
            While initially startled and embarrassed by the accusation, Ichigo got over it quickly and returned to being angry.  “Don’t be stupid!  Of course it wasn’t on purpose…!”
            “So you did!”  The fact that the event really took place and that Ichigo was the cause was all the reason Uryuu needed to loose three arrows simultaneously.  If he were in his Shinigami form, it would have been easy for Ichigo to sidestep the triple attack, but right now, he was vulnerable and the only defense he had was to duck out of the way.
            Quicker than him or the arrows was a blur of purple, orange and brown.  Two of the arrows were caught; the third was disengaged, but only after scraping Ichigo’s left shoulder.  The one who intercepted the two arrows turned with a feral, lopsided grin.  “You’re getting sloppy, Soifon!”
            “My apologies, Yoruichi-sama.”  Soifon crushed Uryuu’s arrow into dissipating particles, and though she had said sorry, the sharp glare to Ichigo informed him that it was not in his best interests to have Yoruichi looking out for him so much.
            Yoruichi, ignoring Ichigo’s surprise and reaction to his wounded shoulder, looked sternly at Uryuu.  The Quincy lowered his weapon.  “Ishida,” she softly began to lecture, “it’s supposed to be a party.  Have fun!  Don’t be wound so tight!”
            Uryuu respected Yoruichi, so he did not make the argument that he was there not to relax, but to run the shack restaurant.  But being of gallant standing, he did protest that Ichigo’s shameless acts – Ichigo cussed at him – should not be permitted.  “Inoue-san and the others should not be subjected to Kurosaki’s perversions.”
            Yoruichi looked at him for a moment, and then gave a long sigh.  Ichigo’s perversions?  She glanced briefly at her once-student, remembering him solely as a prude who was fun to tease.  Therefore, she would not back Uryuu’s claims.  Instead, she would indulge the pale teen in a different manner.  “It’s nothing to get worked up about,” she said vaguely.  As Uryuu quirked an eyebrow, both of Yoruichi’s hands lifted to grab the bottom of her bikini top.  At once, being the two who knew her well, Ichigo and Soifon went wide-eyed.  There was no time to stop her from lifting her bikini up until the weight could not be supported and yielded the plump globes with an eye-captivating bounce.  Uryuu sputtered, his glasses cracking from the impact of the visual, and a small spurt of a nosebleed came from the rush to his head.  Ichigo took the sight like a punch to the face, falling backward into the sand.  In the meantime, Soifon rushed to cover Yoruichi’s indignity and preserve her from the undeserving eyes of these boys.
            “Yoruichi-sama!  Please!”  Her face was red, expressing all the embarrassment that Yoruichi lacked.
            “Ha-ha-ha-ha~!  Soifon!”  Yoruichi, slipping her breasts back into their comfortable holders, put a hand on her follower’s head.  Her smirk was mischievous as she ducked low to Soifon’s face, whispering in a hot breath, “I’ve never seen you move so fast to make me cover them up before!”
            Soifon flushed, shamed at Yoruichi’s provocative statement. “Y-Yoruichi-sama!”
            Throwing her head back, Yoruichi continued to laugh at the stir she caused on the beach with nothing more than a quick slip of her clothes.  Uryuu was huddled over, wheezing and touching his heart to feel it race.  It hadn’t received such a shock since Orihime almost undressed in front of him!  He would perhaps be in trauma for the rest of the week!  But Ichigo, it seemed, was dealt a heavier blow.  Yoruichi put her amusement on pause to look at him lying sprawled on the sand.  The scrape on his shoulder was not deep or even serious, but all of this shock must’ve finally culminated in a comatose state.
            Maybe it was best that a medic looked him over…
            It wasn’t long before Ichigo was roused after Yoruichi’s unveiling knocked the wit from him.  His eyes blinked open a few times, and he found himself under the shield of a parasol.  With a quizzical noise, he turned to his right and saw that he wasn’t alone.
            “Ah, Ichigo-kun.  Has the sun been too much for you too?”  Ukitake laughed weakly, looking close to death as Kiyone and Sentarou tirelessly fanned him.  “It’s nice to have company.  Eh~…”  The weary captain moaned, teetering on the edge of consciousness.  At once, his two Third Seats leapt to his aid.
            “He’ll be fine,” said another when Ichigo sat up, alarmed.  He turned to find that Unohana was occupying the shade next to him.  On a white blanket, she sat ceremoniously with her shins and feet tucked underneath her and hands folded gently on her lap.  She overlooked the argument between Rangiku and Nanao – which didn’t seem any less heated since Ichigo had taken his leave – but now looked at the orange-haired teenager.  “What about you, Kurosaki-san?  Are you feeling better?”
            “Feeling better?”  Ichigo vaguely remembered being hurt by that idiot Ishida, but when he looked, he saw that the only remains of the injury was a sleeve torn.  “I guess.”
            Unohana stared at him.  Did her smile get a little bigger?  Suddenly, she laughed a little in her throat, putting a hand to hide a bit of her grin.  “I was not asking about the cut,” she said to answer the confusion on Ichigo’s face, which did not lessen.  As straightforward as she usually was, there was no reading the way her relaxed gaze narrowed.  He thought she was about to laugh in her polite way and make some quaint joke.  “Well, as we’ve discussed, you are a young boy amongst many gorgeous women.”
            Ichigo’s head dropped between his shoulders from this sudden topic, and he had a dreadful feeling that he knew where it was going.  It suddenly was apparent that his length had not resided to its dormant state; not a blaringly obvious bulge as before, but the swim shorts were thin enough to define even slight changes.  Since he was laying down at her leisure, there was hardly any doubt that the renowned medic noticed his affliction.  She didn’t even have to say it.  As discretely as possible – which wasn’t very discrete when Unohana’s eyes were already on him – his hands burrowed into his lap, trying to fight down the defiant object.
            Unohana did not probe his integrity, though it was naturally amusing to see the youth visibly anxious and ashamed.  She didn’t laugh at him again, but her smile did seem to broaden on her face, taking on a darker – maybe even a sinister – demeanor; even embarrassed, this outward change didn’t pass Ichigo’s notice.  “If it’d help,” she began, “weren’t you on your way to the showers?”
            Teeth clenched, Ichigo rubbed his neck and gave a nod.  “Yeah, I should…”  He trailed off, not wanting to spend another moment in the company of another in his shameful state.
            “Kurosaki-kun!” he heard Orihime call from behind.  “Don’t take too long!  We’re going to play soon!”  That was optimistic – if not naïve – thinking, for the on-going argument between Nanao and Rangiku wasn’t lessening at all.
            Awkwardly turned away, Ichigo feigned a smile and waved back at her, making no promises to return anytime soon.  Best to just stay out of dodge…  He scuttled like a crab across the beach, once again making the treacherous run to the far-away shower stalls.  Hopefully Yoruichi’s earlier confrontation had put that pesky Ishida out of commission the rest of the day.
            The shower stall was closed and locked, and Ichigo could finally breathe a sigh of relief.  It was the first time all day that he felt relaxed.  With such a persistent thing pointing out at the front of his shorts, how could he relax but in the privacy of an isolated space?
            He didn’t hesitate to turn on the water, even before disrobing.  The sooner he cooled down, the better!  His clothes could dry on him.  It wasn’t like it was cold at the beach anyway.  And after he got control of himself, he’d keep in control!  A day like this would not shake his composure and make him lose his credibility.
            Only Ichigo’s feet had made it into the spray when there came that tapping.  He paused first, wondering if he had only imagined it, but it came again; this time, three knocks.  “Who is it?”  Possibly Uryuu, coming to blast a few more arrows at him.
            “Unohana Retsu.”
            Ichigo looked like he was in the path of a sword.  He gulped.  “Uh, I’m in the shower,” he said, hoping that would be enough to dismiss her.
            Of course, the captain could not so easily be sent away.  In fact, he could almost hear her smile.  “I can see that,” she said from beyond the door.  “I wanted to talk to you for a little while.”
            Ichigo looked back at the running showerhead, chewing the inside of his cheek.  It was an oasis, a saving grace, but it was bad manners to shout back and forth through a wall, and Unohana was not one someone would wisely refuse; call it a sixth sense of danger, as outwardly, there seemed nothing harmful about her.  With great disappointment, he turned away from the shower and reluctantly slid the lock out of the latch.  He cracked it open, leaning out from behind the door to address the woman properly.  “Now’s not a good time,” he mumbled, hoping to cut Unohana off before anything could be said.
            “It’s okay,” Unohana said, like she was the one being troubled by Ichigo.  “I merely wanted to make sure that you were feeling alright.”
            “I… I feel fine,” he told her hurriedly.
            Unohana was far from convinced.  She addressed the matter directly.  “Kurosaki-san, are you going to take care of it?”
            Ichigo could not answer right away.  He couldn’t have turned any redder if he had lied on his back and bathed in the sun for the rest of the summer!  “U-Unohana-san!”  He was going to let the shower’s coldness chill his raging hormones, but he couldn’t find the nerve to tell the woman that.  Let alone give her a clue to his shameful Plan B.
            “Now, now,” she soothed with a raised hand and her constant smile, “I don’t mean to embarrass you.”  Her eyelids lifted slightly to that shrewd leer that was both warm and daunting.  “I only wanted to make sure you understood that being in that state for a prolonged time could have consequences.”
            Ichigo almost lost his footing at her embarrassing statement.
            But that was far from that last thing the medic had to say that would take the wind out of him.  Hardly anything could compare to the feeling when she, ever so calmly, asked: “May I come in?”
            She did not let him answer.  When she asked ‘May I come it’, it translated to ‘I’m coming in.’  Ichigo had no strength or wits to confront her with.  A mere push of her hand was like throwing Ichigo with a squall.  He stumbled back, all too aware that his erection strained out in front of him, his trunks doing nothing to hide its vigor.  The cold spray of the water on his back shocked him, but it was nothing to Unohana stepping into the snug – or cramped – cubicle and graciously closing the door behind her.  The slide of the latch sealed him in with her.  No escape!
            Ichigo had noticed how revealing her outfit was before, but at this moment, he realized just how much of her was shown.  The back of the swimsuit did not exist beyond the bottom that covered her rear, though it didn’t leave much to the imagination, clinging tight to her firm curves and dips.  Long legs, naked; sides exposed, particularly her breasts.  Ichigo – having normally seen her only in her captain garb – hadn’t a clue that she was so endowed, not that he had given it much thought.  Of course, her suit wasn’t bursting at the seams like Rangiku.  Hers were suited to her frame, swollen without the sag.  It took a bit of willpower not to gawk any longer than he already had.  It was too late, for Unohana had already seen the direction of his wandering eyes.
            She did not chastise him like Rukia would, nor did she tease like Yoruichi.  For her, she saw it as nothing but natural, especially for one of his age and in his ‘influenced’ situation.  He could discretely try to hide behind a hand or even both, but in this close space, there was nothing really that he could do to try to convince her that she was fine.  She had guessed from the very start that he had some type of reaction to all these women; even if she did not see it firsthand, she knew the effect of Rangiku’s breasts spilling out right in his face.  And the later encounter with Yoruichi only exacerbated his condition.
            Flushed, jittery, awkward; Unohana could diagnose those symptoms with absolutely no training in health.  Really, to see him express so well in spite of his outward, nonchalant façade, it appealed to her in some way.
            As much as he could, Ichigo avoided the woman even in this small area.  He was acting like she wasn’t even there.  If he did not look at her, there’d be no way her provocative ensemble could tempt him.  Yet, even thinking about how much breast she exposed.  That was the point of bikinis, but he couldn’t help disliking something that could unearth his perverted side.
            “You’re so quiet, Kurosaki-san,” Unohana half-laughed.  “You needn’t be embarrassed.  I am a doctor, after all.”
            Ichigo ducked his head a little, his mouth pouting so slightly.  One would think that he would be comfortable talking to doctors, but as luck would have it, his dad was a doctor, and growing up with that made him wary.  Every sneeze or attitude had to be evaluated, and even at nine-years-old, Isshin would deduce that puberty was the cause!
            Now, of all times, the old man would be right to make that assumption.
            “It’s not that,” Ichigo grumbled, still looking away.  He wished he could do something to effectively hide his protrusion, as if it would remove it from mind and conversation.
            Unohana watched him with that motherly, soft smile.  He was not paying attention to her, which was why he didn’t immediately shout or pass out when she slid her thumbs under the hem of her swimsuit, wedging between the smooth fabric and plushness of her breasts.  Then she eased the edges towards the center of her sternum, gently exposing her full breasts while trapping the front of her suit between them, hiding the skin of the center.
            Ichigo was still looking to the side, and an instinctive jolt down his spine alerted him that something was amiss.  It didn’t feel bad, per se, but it was alarming.  He knew he was in for a shock when he looked back at Unohana, but he certainly didn’t expect her already-indecently-displayed bosom to lack cover entirely!
            He shouted loudly, pitching himself back against the wall of the shower and remaining pressed there like a giant’s hand had him pinned.  All his integrity implored him not to, but he could not tear his eyes from Unohana’s bountiful chest.  These were incredible things to behold!  Rangiku may have proudly boasted the largest set on the beach – and in the whole of Soul Society – but largeness alone couldn’t account for desirability.  Those would hang.  Unohana’s were full, but even by looking, Ichigo could tell that they were firm.  High and perky, but with enough weight to give them a pleasingly-mature drop.  The light-brown areola of either breast had tightened, and the nipples had peaked.
            Gawking helplessly at them, Ichigo couldn’t help feeling ashamedly satisfied, though his cock begged for more.  It raged in his trunks.  He could throw a bucket of ice water against it, but it would refuse to surrender any bit of its potent blood flow.  No, this woman had cornered him, and he’d endure this to the end!
            Despite the flamboyancy of her state, Unohana remained dignified in posture and presence.  It was only the smile that changed; where it once held caring and soothing understanding, Ichigo could see the twinkle of mischief.  His guts were cold, but his blood was lava!  Hair stood on end at the back of his neck.  He wanted to advise Unohana that this was entirely wrong; he should leave, and they need not mention it again.
            But Unohana’s plans were very different.  She approached him, feet hardly making a sound in the puddle circling the drain.  “It’s better to act on these natural impulses than to suppress them, Kurosaki-san,” she told him, and all too soon, Ichigo felt the gentle poke of her nipples against his sternum before her full beasts flattened against him.
            Any objection or warning was sealed in his throat, behind a soft, but deep kiss.  All his voice managed was a choked yelp as Unohana pushed hard against him.  She was not shy at all about taking him lips or about pressing herself tightly against him.  Most of all, she was not shy about his rigid anatomy pressing hard against her pelvis.  The kiss had not ended, but Ichigo gasped regardless, unable to ignore the tight sensation; it had been the first relieving thing he had felt since Rangiku burst out of her top.  Unohana still kept her lips on his mouth; a gentle kiss against his trembling bottom lip.  His breathing was erratic, more a series of sudden gasps.
            She did not bite when she tugged his lip; it was more of a precise suction of her mouth that broke as she drew further away, but there was no missing the way Ichigo almost chased after her.  Her smile flexed from his instinctive eagerness, even if he did catch himself immediately.  Mere kissing, of course, was not Unohana’s plan.  He had been stumbling all day with no direction.  The medic took it upon herself to set his course.
            Ichigo sharply gasped the woman’s name when she dauntlessly made for the hem of his swim trunks.  His pitiful effort to try to brush her hands away was more comical than concerning; Unohana didn’t even feel a need to say something to ease his anxiety.  With the sharpest of tugs, Ichigo felt the beach air on his cock, and it felt good.  There was a stammer or two when the article of clothing fell further down until it could drop to his ankles, but then he was just quiet.  There was a part of him that did not want to risk messing up this chance…
            Mere inches separated the two in the shower stall.  Unohana bowed her head slightly to observe the protuberance nearly spanning the gap between them.  It pumped healthily, and not surprising, it was producing a large quantity of pre-ejaculate.  No foreskin, and an obvious management of hair; he may not have acted like it, but he seemed prepared to be intimate for a girl.  To be young, Unohana mused while continuing her observation.  She did not yet study his undercarriage, though they were probably the most afflicted area, swollen with a burgeoning amount of seed eager to be pumped out.
            Well, Unohana was nothing if not thorough.  Though she asked Ichigo to think of her as a doctor, there was nothing professional about the way she sunk to her knees in front of him.  He was just about to stutter her name again – as if that was the only thing he knew how to say – when she politely cut him off, “You’ll feel better soon.”  That was a guarantee.
            Ichigo knew he should’ve put up a struggle; his morality demanded it!  But there were just these times, times that were too stressful; he just had to go with the flow, bite his knuckles, and pray he was not too loud.
            Settled comfortably in the traditional sitting stance – Seiza position – Unohana sized up the situation jutting out before her.  The cock arched up, engorged perhaps more than normal.  The urethra was bloated, the glands of the tip’s rim flared, and she could almost see his testicles thumping with repressed essence.  He was in definite need of some soothing.
            She licked him, not using her hand to angle him or support him.  Her tongue made a brief, but bold swath against his underside, an inch above his sac.  Above, she could hear him take and hold a deep breath.  She licked him again, higher this time; she still did not employ her hands.  Her tongue lingered at this higher spot, dancing playfully beneath his tip.  It flicked and wagged and nudged before Unohana set sights on her next area.  A hand eventually came up to hold him near the base.  Only her thumb and middle finger caught him, just a dainty hold to steer him.
            Now that he had proper support and would not stray when her tongue was pushed more forcibly against him, Unohana began licking more fervidly.  Her target was the rim of his crown, pressing her tongue up against the sensitive glands, tickling them and bringing more excitement to his body.
            Ichigo took the jolts as well as he could.  Perhaps if no one was in earshot, he’d be making more noise instead of heaving and muttering against his fist.  Images ran wild in his head at that moment while watching Unohana ‘ease’ him.  He’d been rigid for so long, he doubted that this would be a lasting experience.  How long would it be before Unohana-san was helped to a built-up load of cum?  Would she be surprised, or did her anatomy know-how give her a sixth sense to these things?  Would she move and let his fertility circle the drain, or would she wear it?  Or even consume it?!  Instead of his knuckles, he bit his lower lip this time, hard, and whined a little.
            The boy was certainly aggravated by something, Unohana deduced with a grin, noticing how maddeningly he had begun to throb.  She was still a few moments safe, but she wouldn’t risk the time teasing the head.  A more stressed part of him demanded attention, after all.
            Unohana did not simply jump from one part of him to another.  She led a trail of tender soft kisses down his underside – which felt amazing – until she reached the loose skin of his scrotum.  Her lips were replaced with her tongue as it dragged down until she circled one testicle.  She could almost feel the engorged vessels; he wanted release so badly.  He’d have to wait a little longer, but Unohana was not going to let him suffer.  She dipped underneath him and lifted an open mouth to gently cradle the ball before suckling gently on it.  She drew on it, pulling it ever so gently while her tongue caressed the portion in her mouth.  The orb fell from her lips when they gradually began to purse.  It was a slow, erotic and pleasurable experience.  And then she moved to the next, repeating the entire, delicious process.
            It may not have ended in release just yet, but Ichigo was feeling very relieved by Unohana doting on his balls.  They had been so strained, but Unohana knew some method to relax their tension.  That, however, did not mean he’d be satisfied with this.  It would be the cruelest thing for Unohana to surmise that he’d had enough treatment.
            His scrotum left the Captain’s mouth.  She spoke then, but only after giving a hot, smooth lick up through the middle of his balls.  “Do you feel better now, Kurosaki-san?”(REFERENCE!) she asked, though fully knowing the answer.
            Again, it seemed like his entire vocabulary had been replaced when he wheezed, “Unohana-san.”  His chest heaved several time.  “I’m almost…!”  His legs were tensing.  Unohana may have retreated briefly, but he could still feel the eager bubbling of his orgasm.  It was only right to give warning; and who knew how she’d react to a surprise dowsing of seed?
            He gave no credit to her standing as the top medic in Soul Society.  She knew all signs of the male climax, from body language and vocals to the swelling of the urethra and flexing of the bulbospongiosus.  Still, she found it erotic when he declared that he wouldn’t last much longer.  And now she’d grant him the release he was in so desperate need of.  Her mouth went to his head, tongue lulling so slightly to caress the bottom of it.  He could feel the promising heat of her mouth.
            Knock-knock.  “Unoha…  I mean, Chairwoman?”
            Unohana paused less than an inch from wrapping her lips around Ichigo, and then moved away; it was hardly manageable to withhold a whimper of disappointment and anxiety, but Ichigo clapped a hand over his mouth in time to stifle the noise.
            Unohana carried a look that was not so much disappointed or annoyed by this interruption; more like she was recalculating for a solution.  “Yes, Isane?”  Her voice was smooth as ever; Ichigo had to admire her, for he knew he personally would be jabbering and fumbling every syllable he could force out.
            But simply putting on an act was not enough for the doctor.  She must’ve wanted to test the boy, for she didn’t ignore the pulsating erection for long.  While waiting for Isane’s response or reasoning for approaching her in the shower, Unohana straightened her stance, lifting herself up and presenting Ichigo with her breasts.  At once, the cock was mashed in the crevice.  Ichigo clenched his teeth as he watched, only the head surfacing between the two hills.  She eased forward, taking him against her chest while her arms carefully embraced him.  It was not a shy or gentle embrace; it was a bear hug!  Ichigo wobbled from the tremendous squeeze on his legs – who knew she was so strong? – but he kept his mouth shut and regained his composure, only to almost lose it again when Unohana turned and adjusted until she fixed her swollen breasts around his dick, smothering it firmly in her deep valley.  He bit his cheek, fearful of moaning too loudly from the sensation.  Underneath his pulsating rod, he felt the crinkle of her smooth, bunched-up outfit.  He was numb to the world but for the soft, plush sensations around his cock.
            “The Club was wondering,” Isane went on in her usual, uncertain fashion, completely unaware of the doings of her Captain behind this wall.  “Since the volleyball game doesn’t seem like it will resume soon…”  She looked to the sand-drawn court, where only Rangiku and Nanao continued to bicker.  “What should our next activity be?”
            Poor Isane, Unohana thought with a tender smile; always flittering back to confirm her next move.  The Captain heaved her chest against its captive in a forceful lunge that knocked Ichigo off balance.  His foot slid back, but he could not save himself before banging hard against the wall.  A noticeable slam that made his heart jump, but Unohana remained calm, almost as if it was her plan to rouse Isane’s worry.
            “Taichou?!” Isane slipped.  “Are you alright?”
            “My, these floors are slippery,” Unohana said out loud, effectively covering for Ichigo’s thud.  Her tits began to bounce up and down against the cock.  The flesh moved like a tide against his pelvis, crashing against him before receding.  Her unwavering, placid smile should’ve calmed Ichigo, but for him?  It seemed like she had such things in store.  He bit down hard on the side of his bottom lip as Unohana’s technique shifted.  She now juggled her breasts around his cock, one lifted while the other dropped.  His member flopped from side-to-side in this process.
            And again, Unohana proved her calm-headedness.  “Perhaps we should break for lunch then, Isane.  Inoue-san and Uryuu-san have said that they were planning a great feast.  Perhaps they have some samplings ready.”  To tease Ichigo, she ended with a sampling lick to his crown before scrubbing her breasts along his sides.
            “Oh” was Isane’s retort.  It seemed she was hoping for a bit more wisdom from her leader; Nanao had earlier said that they’d enjoy a bountiful feast near sunset, not a sampling little after noon.
            Unohana detected this, and Ichigo was granted – or suffered – a reprieve from the vigorous, enticing rubs of her breasts.  “Or perhaps you would like to join me, Isane?  I wouldn’t object to an extra set of hands.”
            Ichigo’s color surely matched that of the lieutenant standing outside the door.  Ichigo controlled himself, but he had to wonder how bold the most controlled Captain of the Gotei Thirteen could be, how absolutely audacious.  Though there was a niggling little piece of him that would have been most thrilled at the inclusion of the long-legged woman in the shower with them – as if Unohana-san wasn’t enough.
            “Um, no!” Isane said a bit too brashly; she blabbered an apology afterward, but self-conscious and even a bit clumsy in the presence of the woman she most admired, she thought it unwise to put herself in such an intimate, tight-fitting predicament.  Relaxing spas at the end of a work day was one thing; crammed together in a shower on the beach was certainly another.
            Ichigo could breathe again when Isane, after an apologetic and hasty decline of Unohana’s offer, scurried off to tell the others what the Chairwoman had planned.  He stared back down at Unohana, who merely looked back up at him with her quaint grin.  “What was that all about?” he said, his voice straining to keep the volume low.  “You shouldn’t have…!”  Invited her!
            There was a small sound from Unohana’s throat; a short laugh at his prudishness.  “You say this,” she sweetly goaded, “but I could feel your blood racing.”  Her hand carefully cupped the sac that had lifted from the cold water and hot excitement.  She seemed like she’d no objection to continue on him, and he’d no objection to such a decision.  However, that was until her full breasts fell away from his straining cock.  His jaw dropped, and he was on the verge of recanting his earlier protests; he was teetering on the edge of pasting Unohana with his seed, but the edge was waning fast in her absence.
            True fear that she would abandon him gripped his stomach when she actually turned her back to him and faced the door.  Was she this cruel?  Her motive, though, was the opposite.  Instead of unlocking the door, she leaned against it, posterior jutting behind her.
            “I thought you’d follow me by now, Kurosaki-san,” she cooed at him from over her shoulder.
            Ichigo didn’t need time to take in her meaning.  In more haste than he was known for, he rid himself fully of his swim trunks and came close behind Unohana; he’d be pressing his chest against her back if she’d not been inclined against the cubicle.  She felt him slide up against the curve of her ass.  Her swimsuit was an irksome barrier that he could not simply bypass.
            She stood up fully, falling back against Ichigo’s frame with surprising trust.  He supported her, of course, but the sensation was heart-stopping.  Her head leaned on his right shoulder, her left hand coming up to tenderly cup his jaw.  It was all so sensual; he was sporting a stupid look of awe, all while his cock shoved heedlessly against her rump.  His hands had become useless lumps of lead; if he’d any presence of mind, they’d be up, taking their fistfuls of her bosoms and exploring her downy flesh.
            Her thumb underneath the edge of crotch, she smoothed the narrowed piece of her suit to one side to allow Ichigo a chance to marvel.  He was in too close to fully appreciate the view, but her bared backside was enough to send his heart racing to erratic levels!  The lead that had bound his arms was overcome, and his hands seized the respectable Captain’s waist, not skimping on admiring the firm curve of her buttocks.
            Unohana continued to leer over her shoulder at him.  “My, you’ve become so anxious,” she teased, and it was the first time Ichigo did not react, far too engrossed in palming her.
            All well and good, but Unohana could not simply stay in the shower forever.  There was no time to fully caress one another.  She separated her thighs, and with the hand that still pulled aside her bathing suit, she reached for him.  He was tucked tight in her crevice, and was a bit unyielding when she took him from there, but there was no reason to complain when he felt the soft prickle of her mound.  She directed him through her patch, identifying the oozing fluids he deposited in the roaming apart from the water droplets that still clung to her.  He was then led down from the top of her pubis, over the distinctive nub that he noticed she slowed at, and then through the velvety dip leading to her entrance.
            Ichigo breathed her name, his fingers becoming iron snares on the waist of the woman.  He would not be unseated; he wouldn’t allow it even if someone banged on the door a second time.  She wedged him against her hot hole, and he held his breath, his ears straining to hear the wet slide of their union.
            However, it did not come.
            Unohana teased him at her threshold.  He slid between her lips, the tunnel within his reach if he only pushed his hips forward.  Did she want him to act on that impulse?  He didn’t want to tread where he shouldn’t, but there was the insuppressible need!  Carefully testing his luck, he nudged ahead, guiding Unohana’s hips back to meet his forward shove.  With great appreciation, his head slipped in and was well on its way to her furthest depths.
            But Unohana would not have that.  Her hips lifted just enough to escape the purge of Ichigo’s lust, and it made her grin when he sobbed.  “Now, now,” she softly said.  “You just need to be patient.”
            Was she going to tease him at the edge of pleasure again?  Hadn’t he smeared enough pre-cum against her labia to make their union an easy passage?  Apparently not.  Unohana steered him away; steered him slowly while her bend deepened.  Ichigo was caught off guard at the sudden and full exposure of her hidden passage.  He had only a moment to gawk before his cockhead obscured the scene.  Of Unohana’s own admission, he was pushed firmly against it.
            “Are you alright with this, Kurosaki-san?”  Unohana did not act at all like his opinion mattered in the slightest, for she deliberately nudged him firmly against that hole; it hardly gave.  Ichigo shuddered, for he was not known to be kinky, never pondering the ‘further’ exploration of sex.  Traditional and a few varying positions; that was the most he let his fantasies stray.
            One leg lifted for leverage as Unohana slowly pushed her rear end against Ichigo.  His dick continued to meet resistance, and there was the very-real fear that she would twist him in half before her taut body yielded.  Before he could voice such a stupid concern, the passage split.  The small anus stretched gradually and tightly around his encroaching tip.  Even after his entire head was shoved through, her asshole did not lose any tension.  His breath had frozen in his chest, so he could aptly hear the pleased noises of the woman pressing her posterior on him.  The muscles seized involuntarily around him, but they were yielding and smooth, inviting his long presence.  Unohana surely wanted to prolong the experience; she slowed the backward motion significantly so that he crawled in and experienced every millimeter to its fullest.
            “U-Unohana-san,” Ichigo gasped as if he surfaced from a stormy tide.  His fingers held tight onto her like a lifeline.  “It… It’s…!”  Amazing?  Fantastic?  Wonderful?  He couldn’t think of the right word to bring to her to express the ecstasy of this experience.
            He paused in his stuttering, soothed when Unohana reached back to graze his cheek.  He looked up from where his member was pegged in her backside.  She was looking back at him, and in her serene eyes, he found a commanding calm.  She knew; he needn’t say a thing.
            Bottoming out, eliciting a quiet sigh of satisfaction from the controlled woman, Ichigo involuntarily curled his hips against the two cheeks, wishing to press every bit of him that he could in this hot cavern.  As if to tantalize him further, Unohana reached back to her rear end to pull open and better expose the tight seal around the base of his cock.  O, what a wonder this woman was; she practically knew his every intention.
            Then the hand that was on her posterior lifted so serenely to touch and cup his chin.  His eyes rose when Unohana leaned back, her nose just barely nuzzling his cheek so that their eyes were no more than two inches apart.  “Will you be alright, Kurosaki-san?” she asked softly, voice hot and molten.  She didn’t hesitate to hear an answer; odds were that he’d jabber nonsensically.  No, she’d let him be baffled.  It was easier to lead that way.
            Her hand slipped down from his jaw, tracing down his exposed sternum, the softly-defined muscles down to his vee.  She felt his muscles quiver, as if fearing or celebrating her touch.  Very delicately, fingertips just barely touching his shortened curls, she took his hand by the wrist, and very obediently, it went as she led.  His body bowed against her back so that she may hear and feel the deep-throated groan rumbling.  She could laugh; he hadn’t even started to really enjoy the experience.
            Meanwhile, his hand was a shadow to hers, creeping around her creamy waist.  He wandered along her slick swimsuit until he dipped to a more secluded area, and smoothness was replaced with a patch of thick hair.  Down the center of this unseen mound were the distinct lips of her womanhood.  The labia was wet, but the moisture was not from the rivulets running down their bodies from the shower; this was sticky, and Ichigo found – at Unohana’s manual instruction – it helped ease the passage when his middle finger was pushed inside by her own, slipping in with no effort.  Her digit continued to press him into her until both were nearly hidden inside her snug hole.
            Her insides were so taut, but he’d never thought she’d be any different – not that he thought about it at all!  She was the head healer of Soul Society; of course her body, in all aspects, would be prime.  He felt with his finger how her body gripped him, barely allowing movement.  Yet Unohana’s own, smaller finger was his guide.  In the tight space, she pushed him upward toward the roof of her vessel, through the sweet, gooey stickiness to rub at a distinct ridge.  It wasn’t after a bit of urging from Unohana’s digit that Ichigo got the hint and begin probing at that area, softly at first, and then with more confidence.
            The boy could learn; Unohana knew that much, as she had – like all Gotei Thirteen Captains – studied and surveyed his growth from ryoka to Substitute Shinigami.  She relaxed more as the finger continued to stroke at her sensitive spot.  He’d have to multitask, though, as she conveyed to him with a backward bump from her butt.
            Ichigo swallowed determinedly.  He was bowed over the woman to keep his hand latched to her groin, so that did not make it easy to work up a tempo.  Carefully, he rocked, bumping Unohana forward gently, and she pushed back to reclaim all of his cock.  He re-bumped her, and she returned to his groin, and for a while, they moved in sync like this, allowing the less-experienced boy find his rhythm while also tending to her snatch.  He grunted hotly, listening to the hot slide of his cock as it emerged and then submerged into Unohana’s body.  Whenever he stumbled, Unohana made sure to correct his motions.  She was a very good tutor.
            As his confidence mounted, so did his thrusts.  The wiggle of his finger stilled more often as he worked up a pace that finally had Unohana making more than satisfied sighs; granted, he was still the louder: gasping, grunting and groaning each time his cock buried itself.  Her hand had drifted away from his when he demonstrated some aptitude of what was expected of him; now she gripped the top of the door for support while he controlled her by her hips.  Not perfect rhythm constantly, but Unohana found those sudden, erratic jerks – either shallow or angled – unique, enjoyable and endearing for the inexperienced youth.
            “You are doing very well, Kurosaki-san,” she breathed over her shoulder, eyes calm and beckoning.  There was a slight hint at a reddening of her cheeks, but not enough to call it a full blush.  And why did she have to have such a motherly coo?  It made Ichigo’s insides flutter with the odd mixture of shame and lust.  “Could it be that this is not your first time?”
            Ichigo swallowed hard.  His face was much redder than Unohana’s; he looked like he was inebriated.  Should he confess that the lodging between him and Rukia were not as innocent as people would have guessed?  It wasn’t something that happened too often, but enough for him to learn how to yield.  Rukia always took the dominant role, pinning him – with the aid of her Shinigami sorcery, of course – while riding him expertly.  It was why he was not entirely accustomed to being embedded in a woman more appropriate to his height.
            He looked to the side as those memories came to him.  Unohana did not provoke him with insults like Rukia did, but she had the same, bewitching manner.  “No, it’s not,” he murmured under his breath.
            Again, it felt like a mother gazing back at him.  “I do hope this does not interfere with a kindling relationship.”  Yet she pushed back, relaying that she wanted to go until he met release inside of her.
            Ichigo reacted to this a bit more fervor, recovering from his recollection to tighten his hold on Unohana’s trim waist.  He bowed over her as he ploughed ahead, almost yanking her onto his jutting member, repeatedly burying himself in her back hole.
            She wanted it like this; he knew it.  Those earlier, pleasant sighs were just as potent as Rukia chiding him, calling him weak-willed in bed.  He would help Unohana-san turn those sighs into gasps and groans.
            Ahead of them both, the door buckled and clattered as it took the trauma of Ichigo’s increased pace.  It’d be lucky to stay on its hinges after this!  With a satisfyingly loud gasp, Unohana heaved against it, breasts flattening against the blue board.  “My, Kurosaki-san,” she breathed, looking at him with one eye with half her face shoved against the door.  “Such youthful passion.”
            Ichigo ignored her observation.  He was breaking down the dam and was getting ready to unload the torrent.  He felt it only right to warn her.  “Unohana-san, I’m about to…!”
            Unohana didn’t need him to tell her when it was time.  All the signs pointed to it.  However, that was not her plan.  He needed relief in one, powerful release.  Therefore, she reached underneath her.  One would think that teasing his balls – as she did as she poked his tightened sac, lightly cupping them – would lead him to completion that much quicker.  Yet, with a tweak of kidou, Ichigo instead felt reinvigorated.  It wasn’t the torture of losing his orgasm at the threshold; it simply ebbed.
            Still, the method left him befuddled.  He thought that she’d meant to take his swelling load.  Far to the contrary of what he believed, Unohana carefully dislodged him from her asshole.  Every inch extracted from her bowels until the head came out and bobbed in view.
            The woman stood to her full height, reached back to straighten her ponytail and fix the bow at the end, and then rotated on Ichigo.  She smiled at his obvious puzzlement and chose to be vague: “You are a strong boy.  I am very sure you can carry me.”
            Unohana didn’t wait for him to comprehend; her hands hooked over his sturdy shoulders, and then she began to crawl on him.  On instinct, when her legs clamped around him, his hands went underneath her to grab her butt, effectively exposing the hole she had offered.  Unohana was latched perfectly onto Ichigo, ass hovering tauntingly over his erection.  And he didn’t seem to strain at all underneath her added weight; he could honestly tell her that it was not trouble, though he also felt a life-shortening glare would meet him if he said anything otherwise.
            Like this, holstering her, Ichigo was right in her face and could feel her plump chest squished against him, burying the crimson decoration of his neck chain in her cleavage.  Her brown nipples nudged against him in their closeness.  The constant patter of the shower was all but unnoticed as it poured down his back and matted the back of his head.  What mattered was the hand that drifted down from his shoulder, snaked behind her and took his cock, ready to return to their union.  He bumped at her anus, hips jutting and arms slacking to bring her to an appropriate dip, in reach of his ready cock.  He was against her hole, and only needed the assist of gravity to perforate her again.
            Ichigo leapt in his skin when he heard the voice outside the shower stall.  And that small leap pushed him through Unohana’s threshold.  Thankfully, the woman was in more control of herself and didn’t utter a syllable when he slipped in.
            “Inoue?”  Ichigo spoke more out of alarm than in reply to her.  She was supposed to be in the shack, making food, or out with Rangiku-san, being conned into immoral behavior.  Her sudden arrival at the showers wasn’t going to make this an easy venture.  He hadn’t the fortitude to dismiss her with the calm cool that Unohana used when sending Isane off.  In fact, Orihime being just outside the door didn’t perturb the Captain in the slightest, as she worked and wriggled her way down on his shaft without missing a beat.  Ichigo’s teeth sunk into his lip to hold back any noise made by the pleasure of shifting through Unohana’s rectum.
            “I was worried,” Orihime said, sounding a bit meek.  “You said you were going to rinse, but it’s been so long.  Not that I was the only one concerned!” she stammered, and Ichigo could imagine her frantically waving her arms in front of her face as she backtracked to add on unnecessary information.  “I mean, Sado-kun was wondering too.  And Ishida-kun seems to be acting… strange.”
            Blame that on Yoruichi-san…
            “So I just… heh!  I just wanted to make sure you were all right!”
            “I’m…  I’m fine, Inoue,” Ichigo managed.  He mentally patted himself on the back for keeping his voice even as Unohana’s passage clamped down on him.  “I’ll be out soon.”  So long as Unohana didn’t prolong his stamina again…
            And he hoped that Unohana-san would not try to coax Inoue in like she had tried with Isane-san.
            What he really hoped was that Orihime was satisfied with his conclusion and would return to the others so that he and Unohana could finish.  Instead, he heard the sound of the stall next to him being pushed open.  “What are you doing?” Ichigo stammered, trying his best not to react to how Unohana expertly rotated her hips.
            “Well, I thought that I’d rinse while I’m over here.  A lot of the watermelon got on me, but I didn’t get a chance to wash off.”  The neighboring shower turned on.
            What timing…  Ichigo thought that he’d turn flaccid in this state of things, but Unohana remained captivating.  She rocked on him, boldly pressing herself against him and even urged his face to dip into her cleavage.  Her white suit did prevent him from nuzzling her actual sternum – and with the build-up of moisture from the shower, he almost felt like he was drowning.  But he nonetheless – secretly – loved coddling her bosom.  Delicately working his arms, he added a pumping motion to the beckoning sway of Unohana’s hips.
            “I think Unohana-san also came over to rinse off,” Orihime said underneath the spray of her own showerhead, hoping to strike up a flowing dialogue with the boy she crushed on.
            Ichigo could not just ignore her.  “She did.  I saw her.”  He stopped before he could ramble and say something he shouldn’t.  Of course, he already had made that mistake.
            “You… saw her?”
            Stupid!  Ichigo cursed his fortune.  To have Unohana mounted on him like this, yet have to be discrete!  The rush of fear and adrenalin certainly was an intoxicating mix, but he wanted to plough Unohana in a more thorough and undisturbed fashion.  His cock twitched, and he felt a healthy portion of pre-cum leave him to smear the walls of her tight passage.
            “She came by,” Ichigo amended, exhaling sharply afterward.  “She’s gone now.”  But that was not true.  She was very much there with him, and she demonstrated this fact by cupping his face in both hands and – leading with her tongue – connected their lips.  He would have thought her to be a modest kisser; she was, in fact, deep and explorative, running her sweet saliva over his taste buds while searching every crevice of his orifice.  She continued to present him with new, delicious obstacles that took sledgehammers to his fortified resolve.  He knew he should keep his mouth unoccupied so that he could keep shoveling out these lies and excuses, but she was so tantalizing.  His tongue moved of its own will, tangling eagerly with hers.
            “I haven’t seen her,” Orihime said beyond the divider.  She sounded a bit concerned.  “I hope she doesn’t miss out on the meal.”
            Orihime needn’t worry, Unohana mused, eyes peeking open, slyly looking in the oblivious girl’s direction.  She was getting her fill.
            When she did not get a reply, Orihime followed up with resounding cheer, “She’ll be alright!  She is a Captain, after all!”  Then her mind wandered.  “Unless…  Unless there’s a hypnotist on the beach!”  She suddenly was urgent, probably flailing her arms in the water.  “Maybe that’s why Ishida-kun is acting strange!  And Unohana-san could be hypnotized too!”
            It was at this point that Ichigo felt safe.  He could hardly pay attention to Orihime when Unohana’s tongue was probing his mouth, but he knew that her rants often went on for a while if undisturbed; Tatsuki was usually the one to bring the ditzy girl back to reality.  When the rambling broke momentarily, so that she would not get suspicious, Ichigo gave a muffled “Mmhmm” while Unohana deliberately ran her tongue over his upper lip.
            All Ichigo experienced now was these moments with Unohana.  She had given him some relief with whatever kidou enchantment she used on his testicles, but really, it could hardly undo the sensation of going back and forth in her backside.  His thrusts had snagged, and his method was sometimes inconsistent, but it all led up to this building climax.  Unohana tempted him with her lips, soft caresses from her manicured fingernails gently raking down the sides of his chest or behind his shoulders, thighs hugging him!
            His footing faltered, legs buckling severely underneath him.  He made a loud, unmistakable gasp as he almost fell forward.  He took one hand from supporting Unohana’s rump to brace against the nearest wall, and then impulsively shoved the woman’s back against it.  Against all the warnings of reserve and discretion, Ichigo pounded Unohana against the side of the shower cubicle, grunting barbarically as he raced to an end.  He did not need to warn her this time – even if he could manage a coherent sentence in these primal moments of release.  No, she would feel him explode inside of her!
            Unohana reacted very positively to this sudden aggression.  She felt him hammer his hips up against her, his cock sliding so powerfully through the tight muscles of her entrance and into the slippery depths beyond.  The grind of his pelvis against the crotch of her costume rubbed violently and determinedly against her swollen clit.  It seemed, despite his burning candor for release, he would not make the plummet alone.  She could still hold back her moans – being more aware of their surroundings than he now was – but she did let her body react to the stimuli, arching and meeting the rubs of his body as they both neared the end.
            It wasn’t at all surprising for Ichigo to reach the pinnacle first.  With a hot sob, he buried his face deep into Unohana’s breasts while his cock swelled and spewed his essence within her.  As she had intended, each burst was significantly heavier than normal; that kidou she had used was like a stockpile, so that he may experience what could be considered a ‘double-firing’.
            And as he flooded her bowels, Unohana let herself succumb to her own orgasm.  It took a few strong rubs against Ichigo’s groin, but she was undoubtedly set off.  Her muscles closed and knotted – Ichigo even felt it, and came all the harder because of it – with tremors of bliss passing throughout her being.  Her fingers dug into the flesh of his back.  She pushed her chest out so that he may nuzzle firmly against them, though he elected to give her exposed nipples a bit of tending as he rode down the final waves of his orgasm.
            It was all he could do to keep her up.  One arm still held against the wall, and though pinning her against it with his weight helped, his other arm could not maintain its strength.  He warned her that he was running out of steam.  “I can’t…  I’m so…”  He barely could get those words out as he tried to catch his breath.  His ears rung with high-pitched, mewling; almost sounded like someone wheezing his name.
            Lucky for him, Unohana was not so subdued.  She kissed him again, briefly, and dismounted him elegantly, unwinding each limb like flowing branches in a careful breeze.  The moment she was on her own two feet, Ichigo gave up and fell with a splat! on the floor.  His cock hung in a descending angle, exhausted, but satisfied.
            That, however, did not mean the healing temptress would so soon dismiss him.  She turned about, facing the wall she had just been ravaged against, and bent at the waist to display her posterior.  Ichigo could not keep his gaze from averting when he saw her ass cheeks splay above her dark-haired snatch.  The hole he had fucked was still open, only gradually returning to its closed state.  But while it gaped, it leaked and was filled with his white.  He gulped, feeling that guilt and lust again while observing the payload deposited in the gentle woman.
            To prolong his viewing, Unohana reached behind her and held her buttocks apart.  She looked back at him with that serene smile that made his guts twist pleasantly.  “I hope you’re satisfied with this,” she said in a voice that was almost mute under the running showers.  Daringly, her middle finger dabbed so lightly in her hole to swish at the puddle he left in her.  Her smile increased so slightly.  “It was a very healthy bounty.”
            Ichigo could do naught but nod dumbly.  There was no arguing that it was the most plentiful ejaculation he’d ever experienced.  And while good portion of it seeped out in rivulets, down to the hair of her crotch, the anus finally closed and trapped his seed inside of her.  She patted the sealed entrance with two fingers before she rose to her full height.  She turned halfway to him, keeping the grin while watching him and making herself presentable.  First, she arranged the crotch of her suit, surprising Ichigo by choosing not to rinse his seed from her first.  Then – though he’d miss them and shamefully fantasize about them – she tucked her glorious breasts away.  First one, then the others, both working together to test the resilience of her skintight outfit – though the exposed sides were eye-catching.
            She walked to the door.  Ichigo blinked, as if something in his head switched on and he was back to the dimension of life again when the latch was undone.  “Be sure to continue having fun today, Kurosaki-san,” cooed the Captain opening the door.  She was halfway out when she leered at him.  “The day is not over yet.”  Then she was gone, harboring his essence inside and on her body while carrying on throughout the day as the women’s Chairwoman.
            Ichigo stayed motionless for a while, letting the shower spray over his laps and legs, rinsing his flaccid cock.  Had what happened really just happened?  He exhaled and dropped his head back against the wall of the cubicle.  He deliberated what had occurred and what it meant.  For sure, he’d act very cautious around the Fourth Squad Captain from now on – rather, even more so than usual.  But how was he expected to go out there and show his face to everyone after just having sex – anal sex! – with the most respected woman in all Soul Society.
            His worries suddenly doubled when he heard the subtle patter of wet footsteps…
            Inoue was still in the next shower!  He’d forgotten all about her when she went on her mind journeys!  “I-Inoue?” he called out, hoping that it was perhaps his imagination that caused the footsteps.
            “Yes, Kurosaki-kun?”  Orihime sounded like there was a certain shudder to her voice.  Maybe the water was too cold?  But she sounded even… not bothered…
            Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief.  She probably hadn’t heard, thankfully.  At this stroke of good fortune, he smiled sincerely and looked at the top of the divider.  “I’m going to get out now.  I’ll see you on the beach.”  Without wasting a moment, he got to his feet, pulled up his trunks and shyly put away his penis, and walked out as Orihime called out to him, saying that she’d be done soon too.
~~~A Few Minutes Ago~~~
            “The hypnotist could run around, turning everyone into a zombie!” Orihime continued to ramble in her cubicle.  She moved her arms dramatically as she envisioned encountering such a fiend.  She chopped the air with a shout, imagining putting the hypnotist down and saving Kurosaki-san from his powers.  “And then… and then…”  She trailed off as a blush started to creep over her face.  She thought of how Kurosaki-kun would take her in her arms, look her in the eyes and thank her for saving him.  She touched her face as she thought about the actions that would follow.  But she reeled from fantasy to reality with a forced laugh.  “That would not happen!” she laughed.  “Kurosaki-kun would never need saving.  Right, Kurosaki-kun?”
            There was a pause, and then a “Mmhmm”.
            Orihime arched a brow at the noise.  It almost sounded like something was covering Kurosaki-kun’s mouth.  She was about to call to him, find out if everything was alright, but before she could, there was a thunderous pound against the wall she was looking at; so loud and sudden that she jumped in place, breasts bouncing in her bikini.  And then, rapturous grunts!  Orihime was not so green that she did not know the sounds; Tatsuki was rather bold and wild – even if she condemned Chizuru for it – and once had Orihime watch a porno with her.
            What was happening with Kurosaki-kun to make him make those sounds?
            Orihime crept towards the shaking barrier.  The grunting was louder.  Her mind took her.  What if…  What if there was a hidden, miniature watermelon monster, and it had snuck up on Kurosaki-kun through the drain of the shower stall?  Its powerful tentacles – which she had encountered herself – would wrap around Kurosaki-kun’s ankles first, keep him from running.  And before he could say a word, it gagged him!  Both wrists would be trapped behind his back.  And while fighting, still listening to Orihime, he gave a muffled “Mmhmm” so that she wouldn’t worry.  He’d conquer this foe by himself without putting her in danger or worrying.
            Orihime fantasized about the daring tentacle monster running its limbs all over Kurosaki-kun’s body, his sternum, lifting his opened shirt to feel his back, and then dipping downward… to his… to his…
            She bit her lower lip.  Without realizing it, her hands had gone to her body.  Her breasts, she groped at very tenderly.  Her nipples already pushed against her yellow top, stiffened by the coolness of the shower; now they were receptive to touch.
            But both hands would not reside on her chest.  Like the tentacle in her fantasy, her right hand trekked down, down to the skimpy waist of her thong.  She shouldn’t be doing this; she knew that.  Kurosaki-kun was right next to her, just on the other side of this thin wall…
            She fell against it, feeling the shudder of it as Kurosaki-kun fought the monster as it violated him.  By now, surely it had exposed its prize, and while it was her daydream, his exposure was censored with obscuring, heavenly light which transferred to a black circle to keep his modesty as well as her own.  It’d handle him, even if he was unwilling.  He would fight; Orihime knew he would.
            Her fingers skipped her waistband, instead pushing aside the crotch of her bottoms to expose the slit underneath.  Fantasizing about Kurosaki-kun in such a way; it always had her ready in seconds.  Her fingers were practiced, teasing the nub of the crest or stroking the length of her lips before her middle digit would slide into her.  She whimpered at the feeling, feeling the impact of Kurosaki-kun’s struggle against the wall.  Her hands became more active as the thumping increased urgently.  The tentacle must have been stroking him vigorously to get him so excited so quickly!  She did not mind racing to meet his tempo.  Leaning back against the wall, she looked down her buxom body and watched her fingers shamelessly dance at her pussy.
            Orihime panted quickly as her mind raced to the next scenario, something to ignite her impending release.
            Imagine if the tentacle monster reached to the other side for me!
            It would catch her by her midsection, hoist her effortlessly in the air.  It would audaciously push aside or even rip off her bottoms before pulling up its other captive.  Kurosaki-kun would be completely exposed, and Orihime saw it all: his penis jutting in unwilling cooperation.  How could she do anything but open her legs when the tentacle monster, wanting to see the connection of two humans, eased the boy into her slot?  A nice, slow, hot insertion…
            Orihime restrained her cries as much as she could as she came.  “Kurosaki-kun!” she wheezed three times in a high-pitched voice, doing her best not to scream at the top of her lungs.  Her hips jerked forward indecently, and while stimulating her clit with passionate rubs, she gushed.  She came all over the floor beneath her and in front of her, trembling and sobbing as she committed the private act in a public stall.  At least the running water washed away the evidence – though it was not at all recognizable from the water.
            When she’d passed her climax, her legs folded together, and she dropped in a quivering mess.  The fondling of her bosoms had disheveled her top, and a pink nipple peaked out.  She’d give herself a moment to recover.
            And, as if he too had reached the apex same as her, Kurosaki-kun had retreated from the wall.  He must have fought off the watermelon monster.  With a smile, Orihime mentally congratulated him.  And for the moment, they could both catch their breaths.
            She’d finally come down from her high when suddenly, there came a timid, “I-Inoue?”
            She sat up straight, as if he had just walked in on her.  She straightened her top, heaving it over her large breasts to hide her nipples properly.  “Yes, Kurosaki-kun?”  She was glad to have feigned such a steady voice.
            Kurosaki-kun paused.  “I’m going to get out now,” he told her.  “I’ll see you out on the beach.”
            Orihime flushed at the idea of seeing him after doing what she just did, fantasizing what she’d just fantasized.  Nevertheless, being with Kurosaki-kun on the beach excited her and made her heart flutter.  She jumped up quickly to rinse and be ready to join him as soon as possible.  “I’ll be right out!”
~~~Meanwhile, at the shack~~~
            Chad stared at his companion who diligently worked on the same serving of noodles for the past half-hour.  They had already burnt to a crisp, but Uryuu just kept on shuffling them.  Chad looked over at the ruined food.  “Ishida, are you okay?” asked the giant teen.
            Uryuu just kept shuffling, eyes obscured by the glare of the room.  He was not seeing the food.  He was still stupefied after his encounter with Yoruichi-san.
            “… Huge coconuts…”

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