Karaoke Booth Stimulation: Beautiful Instructor Teases Singer with Vibrating Mic

Late on an autumn night, as the city's noise faded into the distance, I stepped alone into a private karaoke room. My name is Daiki, a twenty-something aspiring band vocalist. Normally I sing casually over guitar tracks, but today my friend Shota canceled last minute, so I came as a substitute. The reservation was for two, and not wanting to waste the fee, I went in anyway. Outside, a chilly wind blew, and my cheeks were still cold from walking through streets where fallen leaves danced. Opening the door to the room, warm air from the heater spread out, mixing with a dusty atmosphere and the scent of alcohol. It was the usual karaoke setup: dim lighting, leather sofas, a remote and two microphones on the table. The walls were covered in soundproofing, shutting out all outside noise. A perfect sealed space.

"Ha, Shota bailing on me so suddenly..." I muttered to myself as I plopped down on the sofa. Just as I thought about ordering a cola because my throat was dry, the room's intercom rang. On the screen stood a female staff member. "I'll come in now," her voice said, and the door opened. What entered was an unexpectedly beautiful woman. Her black hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore a tight black shirt and skirt. The neckline was slightly open, revealing a glimpse of her ample cleavage. Her name tag read "Nami." A karaoke instructor? My heart skipped a beat. For a virgin like me, having a beautiful woman enter the room in the middle of the night felt like the start of an erotic comic.

"Good evening, sir. I heard your friend couldn't make it. I'll be your instructor, Nami, and help you practice singing." She smiled and sat next to me on the sofa, microphone in hand. She was close! Her body heat and the sweet scent of her shampoo tickled my nose. The room's heat contrasted with the cold autumn air outside, and sweat began to bead on my forehead. "Ah, um, nice to meet you... I'm Daiki." I introduced myself, stammering. When I mentioned I was an aspiring band vocalist, her eyes lit up. "Oh, a vocalist? Then let's sing together today. I'll give you tips on how to hold the mic." With that, she handed me one microphone. She held the other. She operated the remote and began searching for a song. I chose a rock ballad. I cleared my throat and prepared to sing.

The song started. The intro guitar riff echoed through the room, and I brought the mic to my mouth. Nami clapped beside me, encouraging, "Nice voice!" Her voice was soft and pleasant to the ear. But then came the problem. The moment I finished one verse, she suddenly laughed. "Daiki, you're a bit stiff. Relax, relax!" Saying that, she lightly pressed her microphone against my side. The tip touched my skin through my clothes. A low vibrating "bzz" sound came from the mic being switched on. The vibration traveled through my body, sending a ticklish sensation. "Whoa, what are you doing!?" I twisted away involuntarily. Even such a minor touch made my virgin body react with a twitch. Her smile turned mischievous. "This is a technique to loosen up your body with the mic's vibration and release tension while singing. Come on, try singing more." Playfully, she pressed the mic harder against my side. "Bzz bzz..." The vibration intensified, making my skin tingle. My singing broke into fragments. "Ah, haha, that tickles..." I protested with a laugh, but excitement swirled inside me. Her breasts swayed with each laugh. The shirt fabric was thin, outlining her bra. Every time that ample curve bounced at the edge of my vision, heat built in my lower body. Focus, Daiki! Sing!

As the song progressed, Nami's teasing escalated. She slid the mic along my thigh. "This spot's tense too, right? It's a vibrating massage." A low humming "bwoon" leaked from the mic's speaker and reverberated through the room. The vibration approached my crotch through my pants, making my sensitive area tremble. It should have tickled, yet it felt strangely good. My singing voice rose in pitch, and I messed up the lyrics. "Nami, wait... that's dangerous," I pleaded while gripping the mic tightly, but she narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Hehe, nice reaction. Vocalists are sensitive, aren't they? Get into the rhythm more!" She began singing too. Her voice was professional level, her breathing sexy. Her breasts swayed intensely with each note, fixing my gaze. The autumn night room grew steamy from the heater, and I could see sweat trailing down her neck. Her scent, mixed with body odor, reached my nose. My throat was parched. I tried to drink cola but my hands shook, nearly spilling it.

The development didn't stop. The next song was upbeat rock. While I sang passionately, Nami ran the mic along my back from behind. "You need to straighten your posture!" The vibration traveled along my spine and resonated down to my lower abdomen. My crotch began to throb. It was pathetic that a virgin like me could get this aroused from mere vibration. Her breath touched my ear as she whispered, "Daiki, your voice is trembling... cute." Her lips were close. Those soft-looking pink lips grew moist as she sang. My heart pounded, and the lyrics flew from my mind. The mic's vibration now moved to the inner thigh. Through the fabric, my sensitive skin buzzed. "Ah... Nami, wait..." My voice cracked. Laughing, she said, "Sing through it! It's the climax!" Her cleavage brushed my arm, transmitting a soft, elastic sensation. Warm and springy. My vision blurred, and my breathing grew ragged with excitement. The room's air felt heavy, our breaths mingling. The sound of the autumn wind outside was inaudible. In this sealed space, only sound and vibration dominated me.

Finally, the climax arrived. Just as I tried to sing the last chorus, Nami's mic struck directly against my crotch. "This is your biggest weak spot, right?" "Bzz bzz bzz..." The vibration maxed out. The mic tip pressed against the bulge in my pants, shaking relentlessly. My body stiffened, and my singing cut off. "Uwah...!" Pleasure shot through me like electricity. Unable to endure as a virgin, my hips began trembling on their own. Her breasts pressed against my shoulder, their sway syncing with the vibration. Sounds echoed excessively—the mic's hum, my moans, her laughter. Visually, the waves of her large breasts; tactilely, the pulses of vibration; olfactorily, her pheromonal scent. Even taste seemed to spread with the saltiness of sweat in my mouth. Orgasm hit. Between song lines, I collapsed on the sofa, panting as I came. "Hah... hah... Nami, that was intense..." Comically, my face flushed red, my crotch soaked. She pulled the mic away with satisfaction and whispered at near-kissing distance, "Good work. That was a great practice session."

After the session ended, the room's air cooled slightly. The autumn night wind crept in through the door gap. Nami handed me her business card. "Please come again. Next time we'll do it more seriously." I nodded and promised, "I'll definitely come. I'll introduce you to the group." My bandmates would probably laugh if I told them about this experience. But deep down, my heart warmed at the thought of meeting again. Leaving the room and walking the cold night streets, my body still trembled with the afterglow of the vibration. That sound, that sensation—unforgettable.