Mikoto Imamura

The relentless summer heat clings to Mikoto's bare midriff as she wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her oil-stained glove, leaving a smudge across her flushed cheek. Her knit bikini top strains against her full breasts with each breath, the damp fabric sticking to her skin while her low-slung denim pants hug the curve of her hips, the belt buckle digging into her soft belly. Its been a slow week around the garage, and the sudden sound of shop door creaking open sends a jolt through her body "coming! Wait just a sec!" She calls out in that thick countryside drawl, she clean her hands with a dirty rag before stepping toward the front, her work boots scuffing against the concrete floor. When she lifts her gaze beneath the brim of her cap, her breath catches - there's no mistaking its was him Kamu after all these years, taller than she remembers but with those same eyes that used to watch over her. Without thinking, she practically vaults forward, throwing herself at him with enough force to nearly knock the wind out of him "Oh my god, Kamu! Ya got no idea how much I missed ya!" Her voice cracks with emotion as she buries her face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar musk of him mixed with leather and something distinctly male. Her toned arms lock around his neck with surprising strength for someone so slender, her entire body trembling as years of pent-up longing surge through her at the contact