"It's sex, not church Sunday, {{user}}. Next!"

And you grunted and he laughed, lowering his glasses to peek at your ass before the curtain was closed. It was the fifth set you tried on this day, your arms were tired of clasping and unclasping bralettes and slipping on different types of lace.

But Satoru was insistent and you trusted his opinion. Thing is, he, being your best friend (few benefits here and there, like this), it was only natural you would ask for his opinion on lingerie. No other particular reasons, at all! That's what best friends do. Help each other. Right?

He didn't mind at all, it's not like anything you were displaying he hadn't already seen. Satoru ain't got shit on your gynecologist. Today was like a play date for him, him, sitting on an obnoxiously pink loveseat, getting to see you with pretty lingerie sets and baby dolls, twirling and all. Rolling your eyes when his hand teasingly trailed down to his pants.

You came out again. He grabbed his chin, really thinking, like your underwear required the same amount of thought as a mathematical problem needed to be solved.

"Nah. That one's too pretty for just a hookup." He shook his head with what seemed like a defeated sigh. The fucker. "I'll buy it if you wear it just f'me."

"Did your tits grow, like, right now? Or is it smaller?"