The Exchange Student Part 9

After that night, everything felt different.

Not just the sex — though, yeah, Ren fucking me open while calling me his American boyfriend definitely left a mark. On my body, on my sheets, on my brain. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Replay after replay, every thrust, every gasp, every moan stuck in my head like a song I couldn’t delete.

But what really shifted… was us.

Ren wasn’t shy anymore. Not around me.

He’d slide into bed wearing just his briefs, throw his leg over mine like it was normal. He’d whisper shit in my ear while brushing his teeth — filth in that soft, curious voice — like:

“Is ‘throat goat’ a real title? Or just a meme?”

Or: “What does ‘breed me’ mean exactly? You said it last night.”

He’d giggle after saying it, but I swear to god, he knew exactly what he was doing.

We started watching porn together. For research, he said.

First it was gay American stuff. Then Japanese. Then… bondage. JOI. Edging. Mutual ruin. Stuff I didn’t even know existed.

He wanted to try everything.

One night he asked, “Can you tie my hands?”
Another: “What if I call you ‘senpai’ while you fuck me?”
And once — with a dead-serious face — he said: “What’s a ‘cum tribute’? I want to make you one.”

I was spiraling. In the best, most depraved way.

But the thing that really made my brain melt? Was the night we just talked.

We were lying in bed, sweaty, legs tangled, both of us still sticky from a mutual handjob session that ended with me moaning into his neck and him giggling like he’d just won something.

He traced circles on my chest.

“You know,” he said, “back home… we don’t talk about this. Sex. Pleasure. Feelings.”

I looked over. “Not even with friends?”

He shook his head. “Especially not with friends.”

I frowned. “That sucks.”

He nodded slowly. “It’s why I came here. I wanted to… figure things out.”

“And?” I asked.

He turned to face me, his eyes dark and soft. “I think I figured it out.”

My chest tightened. “Yeah?”

He leaned in and kissed me. Not horny. Not teasing. Just… warm.

“You.”

I swallowed.

Then he smirked. “But also… I want to try rimming next.”

I choked. “Ren—”

“For science.”

“Of course. Purely academic.”

He nodded. “Also, you still haven’t taught me what ‘bussy’ means. That one’s confusing.”

I grabbed a pillow and groaned.

He tackled me laughing, dick half-hard, eyes lit up.

And I knew.

Whatever this was — whatever we were — I wasn’t ready to give it up anytime soon.