The small apartment smelled like the leftover curry from last night’s dinner. Dishes were still stacked in the sink, and the TV in the living room droned on with some random variety show, volume low so the neighbors wouldn’t complain. Emily, barely 147cm tall, padded around in her oversized hoodie and tiny shorts, her smooth fair skin glowing under the cheap LED light. She had that classic Kansai energy—loud laugh, quick tongue, big sparkling eyes that made her look even younger than her twenty-something years.
Her boyfriend Michael sprawled on their unmade bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly. “Babe, come here a sec,” he called, voice lazy. “Your skin’s lookin’ extra soft today. Let me rub some oil on ya.”
Emily giggled, flipping her dyed blonde-streaked hair. “Nani sore? You just wanna grope me, huh?” But she hopped over anyway, stripping off the hoodie to reveal a simple white tank top and those shorts that rode up her tiny ass. She flopped face-down on the bed, kicking her feet playfully. “Okay fine, but if I fall asleep, it’s your fault.”
Michael grabbed the bottle of baby oil from the nightstand—the cheap kind they always used for this. He squirted a generous amount into his palm, warming it between his hands before sliding them over her back. Her skin was ridiculously smooth, like silk under his rough fingers. He worked slow at first, kneading her shoulders, down her spine, thumbs pressing into the small of her back. Emily sighed, melting into the mattress.
“Feels good?” he asked, voice dropping lower.
“Mmm, yeah… keep going lower,” she mumbled, Kansai accent thick and cute.
He poured more oil, slicking her thighs, fingers brushing the edge of her shorts. She wiggled a little, spreading her legs just enough. The room got quieter except for the wet sounds of oil on skin and the faint TV laughter in the background. Michael’s cock started thickening in his sweatpants—he couldn’t help it. She was so small, so fucking responsive.
Emily lifted her hips when he tugged at her shorts. “Take ’em off already,” she whined. He peeled them down, exposing her bare pussy, already glistening a bit. No panties. Typical. He oiled her ass cheeks, kneading them apart, thumbs grazing her tight little hole and then her slick folds. She moaned softly, pushing back.
“Shit, you’re wet,” he muttered, sliding one finger along her slit.
“Not yet,” she teased, but her voice cracked when he pressed the pad of his finger against her clit. He circled slow, watching her tiny body twitch.
Michael reached for the drawer—the small vibrator they kept there, a slim purple one with a curved tip. He clicked it on low, the buzz filling the room. Emily peeked over her shoulder, eyes wide and shiny. “Oh fuck yes…”
He drizzled more oil over her pussy, then pressed the vibe against her clit. She jolted, a sharp “Ah!” escaping her lips. He held it steady, rubbing in slow circles while his other hand massaged her ass. Her hips rocked instinctively, humping the bed a little.
“Turn over,” he said, voice rough now.
Emily flipped, legs spreading wide without shame. Her tank top was pushed up, small tits bare, nipples hard from the cool air and the oil. Michael worked the vibe lower, teasing her entrance, then pushed it in slow. She gasped, back arching off the mattress. “Fuck… deeper…”
He pumped it gently, in and out, the slick sounds obscene. Oil dripped down her thighs onto the sheets. Her big eyes locked on his, mouth open in little pants. “Michael… shit, that feels so good…”
He leaned down, sucking one nipple while he fucked her with the toy. She grabbed his hair, pulling him closer. Her free hand slid down her belly, fingers finding her clit. She rubbed herself fast, matching the vibe’s rhythm.
“Wait—let me…” She pushed his hand away, taking the vibrator herself. Michael sat back, watching. Emily bit her lip, eyes half-lidded, and shoved the toy deeper. Her tiny fingers joined in—two of them sliding in beside the vibe, stretching her pussy. She moaned loud, no holding back now.
“Oh god… I’m so full,” she whimpered. “Look—look how deep…”
Michael’s cock throbbed painfully. He shoved his sweatpants down, stroking himself while she worked. Her pussy made wet squelching noises, oil and her juices mixing. She finger-fucked herself harder, the vibe buzzing against her g-spot. Her legs shook, toes curling.
“Fuck, Michael—I’m gonna cum… don’t stop watching…”
He leaned closer, hand pumping his cock faster. Emily’s fingers plunged in and out, three now, stretching her tight hole. The vibe stayed buried deep. Her whole body tensed, abs clenching, then she cried out—a sharp, desperate “Ahhn!”—and squirted a little, clear fluid soaking the sheets around the toy.
She kept going through it, riding the waves, fingers still pumping until she collapsed back, panting hard. The vibrator slipped out with a wet pop, buzzing on the bed.
Michael couldn’t wait. He climbed over her, cock slick with precum. “My turn,” he growled.
Emily grinned weakly, still dazed. “Hurry… put it in…”
He pushed in slow at first—her pussy hot, tight, slippery from oil and cum. She wrapped her legs around his waist—barely able to lock ankles because she was so small. He thrust deeper, skin slapping skin. The bed creaked, headboard tapping the wall. They both froze for a second, listening for neighbors.
“Fuck it,” she whispered. “Harder.”
He pounded faster, gripping her hips. Her nails dug into his back. “Yes—fuck my pussy… right there…”
Sweat mixed with oil, bodies sliding. Her big eyes stared up at him, mouth open, little moans spilling out. “Cum inside… please…”
Michael groaned, thrusts erratic. He buried deep, cock pulsing, filling her with hot spurts. Emily clenched around him, milking every drop, a second small orgasm rippling through her.
They stayed locked together for a minute, breathing heavy. The TV still chattered in the background. The curry smell lingered.
Finally Michael pulled out, cum leaking from her stretched pussy onto the oily sheets. Emily giggled breathlessly. “Shit… we made a mess.”
He slapped her thigh lightly. “Your fault. You and that damn finger show.”
She rolled her eyes, sitting up. “The curry’s probably cold now. Go heat it up, lazy ass.”
Michael laughed, pulling up his pants. “Yeah yeah. But next time, you’re massaging me first.”
Emily winked, wiping oil off her thigh with the sheet. “Deal. But only if you bring the bigger toy.”
She hopped off the bed, tiny and glowing, already reaching for her shorts like nothing happened. The apartment felt normal again—except for the wet spot on the bed and the satisfied smirks they traded across the room.

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