Your eyes roll back as your willpower crumples. Doki's body presses firmly against yours, and eventually, her face shifts over to kiss you on the lips. Her tongue probes into your mouth as she frenches you for several long moments, while one of her hands slides up under the rear of your shirt to rub up along your backside. Another hand slips downward, and gropes a handful of your bum to fondle. Suddenly, she pulls back, smacking her slobbery wet lips.
And then, she abruptly lets go of you.
You fall to the floor with a thud. You're still hyperventilating. Doki stands over you with a smug expression. One hand is drumming its fingers across her muffin top tummy, while her other arm lifts up to wipe the drool off of her mouth. “You're either very brave, stupid, or utterly suicidal,” she comments. “So then, what's it gonna be, new kid?” she asks you. “You think you're boyfriend material? ... Or do you want to go the way of those pancakes?” She presses her fingers into the yielding surface of her stomach to emphasize her point.
