The gentle chime in Yuya’s mind was as familiar as the morning sun, though far less welcome. It signaled the arrival of yet another set of “choices,” a supernatural interference that had plagued his life since middle school. They weren't just simple decisions; they were imperative commands, often absurd, always disruptive, and utterly inescapable. As he sat in his usual desk by the window, the soft afternoon light bathing the classroom in a golden glow, he knew, with a sinking feeling, that his peaceful existence was about to be turned on its head once more. This peculiar affliction, the constant interjection of bewildering options, was the very essence of why his life felt like a perpetual, chaotic improv show where, as he often lamented, his mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy.

Today’s target, it seemed, was Sakura, his childhood friend, currently absorbed in scribbling notes, her dark hair catching the light as she leaned forward. A stray lock fell across her cheek, and Yuya felt a familiar, tender warmth in his chest. She was cute, fiercely loyal, and had a habit of hiding her blushes behind a stern gaze. He was about to offer her a piece of his melon bread when the digital prompt flashed behind his eyes, clear as an LCD screen:

[CHOICE A]: Offer Sakura a polite, casual compliment on her diligence.
[CHOICE B]: Casually reach out and brush the stray hair from her face, lingering for a moment.
[CHOICE C]: Declare, in a booming voice, that her handwriting holds the secrets of the universe and he must decipher them with his lips.
[CHOICE D]: Accidentally drop the melon bread, making a comical mess, and blame it on an invisible ghost.

Yuya groaned internally. Choice C was insane, D was pure slapstick, and A was so bland it felt like a betrayal of their long-standing friendship. His eyes flickered to Sakura’s concentrated profile, and an undeniable pull towards B asserted itself. He didn't want to choose B. He *had* to. A silent, internal countdown began, forcing his hand.

"Five… four… three… two… one… Choice B selected automatically," a detached voice echoed in his head, a voice he’d come to begrudgingly call the "God of Forced Decisions."

His hand moved of its own accord, slow and deliberate, reaching across the narrow aisle separating their desks. Sakura flinched slightly as his fingers, surprisingly gentle, grazed her temple, tucking the errant strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb, as if possessed by an independent will, lingered for a fraction of a second, feeling the surprising softness of her skin, the faint warmth radiating from her. Her head shot up, her emerald eyes wide, a fiery blush instantly blooming across her cheeks.

"Y-Yuya! What are you doing?!" she stammered, her voice a little breathless, a stark contrast to her usual confident tone. She instinctively pulled back, bumping her elbow against her desk.

"Ah… sorry," Yuya managed, withdrawing his hand, feeling a blush of his own creeping up his neck. The casual gesture had been far more intimate than he’d intended, thanks to his infernal choices. He could feel the eyes of their classmates on them, particularly the curious gaze of Miyuki, the class representative, who sat a few rows ahead, usually unflappable but now with a subtle, unreadable expression.

Sakura fumbled with her pen, her gaze stubbornly fixed on her notebook. "Don't just… touch me like that! It's… distracting!" Her voice was sharper now, but the lingering flush on her cheeks betrayed her. Yuya knew she wasn't truly angry, just flustered. This was precisely why his mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy. Every interaction became a minefield.

Later that day, after school, Yuya found himself in the hushed tranquility of the school library, attempting to catch up on history. The only other occupant was Miyuki, serene and focused, her long, silken black hair draped over one shoulder as she meticulously reviewed a complex textbook. She was the epitome of grace and intelligence, a quiet beauty who rarely showed strong emotions. He admired her, often from a respectful distance. He needed to ask her about a particularly tricky passage.

As he approached her table, the familiar chime rang out, and the choices materialized before his mind’s eye. He braced himself.

[CHOICE A]: Politely ask Miyuki for assistance with the history text.
[CHOICE B]: Accidentally knock over a stack of books, creating a dramatic scene.
[CHOICE C]: Compliment her scent, describing it as "the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms after a spring rain."
[CHOICE D]: Pretend to be utterly lost in thought, then declare that her presence makes the library feel like a sacred, inspiring temple.

Yuya sighed. B was chaotic, C was incredibly forward for the reserved Miyuki, and D was overly dramatic. A was the sane option, the one he genuinely wanted to choose. But the choices never let him be sane. The internal clock started ticking, and he could feel an inexplicable pull towards C. His cursed mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, pushing him into territory he wouldn't dare tread otherwise.

"Three… two… one… Choice C selected automatically."

Miyuki looked up, her intelligent eyes meeting his, a faint, inquiring frown on her brow. "Yes, Yuya-kun? Do you need something?"

"Miyuki-san," Yuya began, his voice surprisingly smooth despite his internal panic. "I… I couldn't help but notice… the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms after a spring rain seems to follow you. It's quite… captivating." The words felt foreign on his tongue, yet they tumbled out with a strange, undeniable sincerity. He mentally slapped himself. He’d just told his class representative she smelled good!

Miyuki’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. A faint blush, like the first hint of dawn, rose on her cheeks. She was usually so composed, but Yuya had clearly rattled her. She averted her gaze, her fingers tightening slightly on the spine of her book. "Yuya-kun… that's… an unusual compliment." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. She didn't sound angry, though. More… intrigued? Flustered?

"Ah, I… I apologize if it was inappropriate," Yuya stammered, desperate to backtrack, but the words felt stuck. The 'choices' didn't offer an apology option after making him say something scandalous.

"No… no, it's… fine," she murmured, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips before she quickly composed herself. "What did you actually need?" She met his gaze again, and for a fleeting moment, Yuya thought he saw a spark of something intense and curious in her eyes, something beyond her usual placid demeanor. These mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy in ways he couldn't predict, but perhaps, just perhaps, not always for the worse.

The next day, it was Ayaka’s turn. Ayaka, the effervescent and popular girl from the next class, who possessed an infectious laugh and an almost fearless approach to life. They often walked home together for a few blocks. Today, the topic was an upcoming school talent show. Ayaka, a natural performer, was buzzing with ideas.

"So, Yuya-kun, what do you think? Should I sing a ballad, or maybe something more upbeat, with a dance routine?" she asked, swinging her school bag playfully, her long, chestnut hair bouncing with each step.

The chime. Yuya internally braced himself. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, pushing him towards an ever-increasing cascade of intimate, often baffling, encounters.

[CHOICE A]: Give a thoughtful, practical opinion on her talent show options.
[CHOICE B]: Suggest a duet, explicitly mentioning a romantic, slow dance.
[CHOICE C]: Declare that her every move is a dance, and he finds himself entranced by the rhythm of her very existence.
[CHOICE D]: Casually interlink their fingers, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

This time, D felt almost natural, a subtle escalation. But B was a direct challenge to his usual reserved nature. C was pure poetry. The timer started. He felt an inexplicable pull towards D, a gentle current. But then, as the timer ticked down to the last second, a surge of energy, a different kind of impulse, overrode his initial leaning. His damned choices were at it again. "Choice C selected automatically."

Ayaka giggled, waiting for his answer. Yuya turned to her, a strange, profound expression on his face, the words flowing out as if from a script he hadn't written. "Ayaka-chan… your every move is a dance. The way you laugh, the way your hair catches the sunlight, the way you speak with such passion… I find myself utterly entranced by the rhythm of your very existence. Whatever you choose for the talent show, it will be magnificent, because it will be *you*."

Ayaka stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth slightly agape. Her usual boisterous energy seemed to drain away, replaced by a stunned stillness. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, and her eyes, usually so sparkling and mischievous, softened, looking at him with an intensity that made his heart pound. "Yuya-kun…" she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically soft, almost fragile. "I… I've never had anyone say anything like that to me before." She reached out, her fingers gently touching his arm, a spark passing between them. "That's… really beautiful. Thank you." Her smile, when it returned, was softer, more genuine, and held a hint of something deeper, something sensual.

These interactions, seemingly innocuous, had irrevocably shifted the dynamics of his relationships. Sakura was now prone to sudden blushes and nervous fidgeting around him. Miyuki observed him with a newfound, subtle curiosity, a hint of unspoken questions in her gaze. And Ayaka… Ayaka now looked at him with an almost dreamy wonder, her playful touches growing bolder, her conversations infused with a subtle, electric undercurrent. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, transforming it into something far more intricate, more volatile, and undeniably, more exciting.

The catalyst for the next, more intense phase of this chaotic romantic comedy was the annual school trip. A three-day excursion to a coastal town, culminating in a fireworks display on the final night. The first night, a traditional inn with communal baths and shared rooms. Yuya’s room was with three other boys, but the girls' rooms were nearby. Fate, or rather, the "God of Forced Decisions," had other plans.

After a boisterous dinner, a group of classmates decided to play "Truth or Dare" in one of the larger common rooms. Yuya, of course, found himself reluctantly pulled in. His turn came. A spin of the bottle, and it landed squarely on Sakura, sitting opposite him, her eyes already wide with anticipation and a hint of dread. "Truth or Dare, Yuya?" she asked, her voice a little breathless.

The chime. Oh, not now, he pleaded internally. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, and he had a terrible feeling about this one.

[CHOICE A]: Choose Truth, confessing a trivial secret.
[CHOICE B]: Choose Dare, and accept any reasonable challenge.
[CHOICE C]: Choose Dare, and declare that he must spend the rest of the evening alone with Sakura, discovering her innermost desires.
[CHOICE D]: Choose Truth, and blurt out his deepest, most secret romantic fantasy involving Sakura.

Yuya’s eyes darted between C and D. Both were catastrophic. But the internal pull was undeniably towards C, the one that promised solitude with Sakura. The timer was a relentless march. He wanted to scream. "Two… one… Choice C selected automatically."

"I choose dare," Yuya announced, his voice firm, astonishing even himself. "And my dare… is that I must spend the rest of this evening, alone, with Sakura. We must… discover each other's innermost desires." He felt a searing blush creep up his neck, but the words were out, irrevocable.

A stunned silence fell over the common room. Sakura’s face went scarlet, her eyes like saucers. "Yuya! What are you talking about?!" she squeaked, half-protest, half-excitement.

Before anyone could process it, the "God of Forced Decisions" chimed again. "Dare Accepted. Fulfillment is mandatory. Any deviation will result in… unpleasant consequences." Yuya felt a shiver down his spine. He knew the 'consequences' could be anything from public humiliation to embarrassing bodily functions. He had to comply.

Sakura, flustered but intrigued, was led away by Yuya, under the amused and slightly scandalized gazes of their classmates. He guided her to a secluded alcove in the traditional inn, a small, dimly lit room with a view of the moonlit garden. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the scent of tatami mats and blooming jasmine filling the space.

"Yuya, seriously, what was that?" Sakura finally whispered, her voice trembling slightly, her eyes not quite meeting his. "Discovering innermost desires… that's… that's so suggestive!"

Yuya sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Sakura. Believe me, I didn't mean to. It's… complicated. You know how my mental choices are completely interfering with my school romantic comedy, right? It just… picked that one." He looked at her, his gaze softening. "But… maybe it's not so bad. We've known each other forever. There are things we've never talked about."

She looked up then, her eyes searching his. "Things like… what?"

The chime. Of course. Another choice, guiding him further down this path.

[CHOICE A]: Talk about innocuous childhood memories.
[CHOICE B]: Express his admiration for her strength and kindness.
[CHOICE C]: Confess a lingering, sensual curiosity about her, a desire to know her body as intimately as he knows her heart.
[CHOICE D]: Ask her what she truly dreams of for their future, specifically together.

This was it. The real leap. C was shockingly explicit, but it was also a choice about "innermost desires." The timer began its inexorable march. He felt a deep, primal urge towards C, a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, pushing him beyond all societal norms.

"Two… one… Choice C selected automatically."

"Sakura," Yuya said, his voice surprisingly deep, imbued with a strange, compelling sincerity from the forced choice. He reached out, gently taking her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "My innermost desire… is to truly know you. Not just your thoughts, your dreams, your worries… but your body. To feel your skin against mine, to taste your lips, to hear your moans when I bring you pleasure. I want to discover every secret curve, every sensitive spot, until there's nothing left unrevealed between us."

Sakura gasped, her eyes wide, her hand trembling in his. Her cheeks burned crimson, and her breath hitched. For a long moment, she just stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, slowly, a different emotion flickered in her eyes – not anger, but a raw, vulnerable longing that mirrored his own. "Yuya…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You… you really mean that?"

The "God of Forced Decisions" chimed again, a single, unambiguous choice: "Nod slowly and lean in for a kiss."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned in, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn't. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting slightly in an unspoken invitation. His lips met hers, tentatively at first, a soft, exploring touch. It was a kiss he had dreamed of for years, a dream his bizarre choices had now made real.

The kiss deepened instantly, a floodgate of unspoken affection and suppressed desire bursting forth. Sakura’s hand moved from his, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her body pressed against his, soft curves molding against his harder frame. He tasted her sweetness, a mixture of green tea and unspoken longing. His hands, guided by instinct and the relentless "choices," moved to her waist, then slowly, hesitantly, up her back, feeling the soft fabric of her yukata, the warmth of her skin beneath.

The world outside that alcove ceased to exist. Only their racing hearts, their shared breaths, and the intoxicating press of their bodies remained. Sakura let out a soft moan into his mouth, a sound that ignited a fire deep within Yuya. He picked her up effortlessly, cradling her against him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, burying her face in his neck, showering him with fervent kisses. He carried her further into the room, towards a plush futon laid out for guests, the moonlight streaming in through the paper screen.

Gently, he lowered her onto the futon, his body following hers, never breaking the kiss. His hands, now bolder, untied the obi of her yukata, the fabric falling open to reveal the soft curve of her shoulder, the creamy expanse of her chest. Sakura, in turn, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, her touch urgent, her eyes still clouded with desire as she finally broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Yuya… I… I've wanted this for so long," she confessed, her voice thick with emotion, her hands trembling as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. The "God of Forced Decisions" was silent, for now. It seemed that once the path was set, their raw, human desires took over. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, but in this moment, he was grateful for the interference.

He devoured her with his eyes, the moonlight bathing her in a soft, ethereal glow. Her bra was a delicate lace, barely containing the swell of her breasts. He reached out, unhooking it with trembling fingers, and it fell away, revealing her full, ripe breasts, her nipples already firm and pink. He lowered his head, suckling gently at one, then the other, eliciting soft cries and arched back from Sakura. She tangled her fingers in his hair, guiding him, encouraging him.

His hand slipped lower, tracing the delicate curve of her stomach, then further down, over the silk of her panties. She shivered as his fingers brushed against the warm, moist fabric, her hips arching instinctively. With a gasp, she helped him remove the last barriers of clothing, her own fingers deftly undoing his pants. Soon, they were both gloriously, completely naked, skin against skin, the heat between them radiating through the cool night air.

He knelt between her legs, looking into her desire-filled eyes. "Are you sure, Sakura?" he whispered, giving her one last chance to pull back. She nodded, her gaze fierce and unwavering. "More than anything, Yuya. Please… take me."

With a slow, deliberate movement, he pressed himself against her, feeling the exquisite friction of their intimate parts. He eased into her, a soft cry escaping her lips, quickly turning into a moan of pure pleasure as he filled her completely. They moved together, a primal rhythm, slow and sensual at first, then building in intensity, each thrust deeper, each gasp louder. Sakura wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper, crying out his name as their bodies moved in perfect harmony, the culmination of years of unspoken affection and sudden, irresistible desire. Her climax was a wave of pure sensation, her body arching, trembling against his, tears of ecstasy streaming down her face. Moments later, Yuya followed, releasing his own desperate cry as he spilled his essence deep inside her, collapsing onto her, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts beating as one.

The next day, a different kind of challenge awaited him. The school trip continued, and the girls, particularly Sakura, kept giving him knowing glances. It was during a free period, exploring a local crafts market, that Yuya found himself, once again, alone with Miyuki. She was examining a delicate porcelain doll, her expression thoughtful.

The chime. Yuya braced himself. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, pushing him towards another inevitable encounter.

[CHOICE A]: Comment on the craftsmanship of the doll.
[CHOICE B]: Ask her about her academic aspirations.
[CHOICE C]: Take her hand, and lead her away to a private spot, confessing his overwhelming attraction.
[CHOICE D]: Suggest they explore a secluded temple nearby, hinting at a shared, intimate moment.

Yuya's heart pounded. C and D were equally bold. He knew Miyuki’s reserved nature meant a direct confession might overwhelm her, but the idea of a secluded temple… that felt more her style, a private, intimate space. The timer began its relentless countdown. He felt a powerful, almost spiritual pull towards D. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, driving him forward.

"Two… one… Choice D selected automatically."

"Miyuki-san," Yuya said, his voice surprisingly calm. "There's a small, ancient temple said to be hidden just beyond these market stalls. It's known for its peaceful, secluded atmosphere. Would you… like to explore it with me? Perhaps we could find some quiet inspiration there." He infused his voice with a subtle suggestion, an unspoken invitation.

Miyuki turned, her intelligent eyes meeting his, a faint blush returning to her cheeks. She seemed to understand the subtext, the implicit promise of intimacy in his invitation. Her lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. "A secluded temple? That sounds… intriguing, Yuya-kun. Lead the way." Her acceptance was soft, understated, yet held a depth of unspoken trust and anticipation.

He led her through a winding path, past bustling stalls and quiet residential areas, until they found it – a small, moss-covered temple nestled among ancient cypress trees, an air of profound serenity surrounding it. The main hall was empty, bathed in the soft, filtered light of the afternoon. The scent of old wood and incense lingered in the air.

They sat together on the polished wooden floor, the silence between them comfortable, yet charged with a growing tension. Yuya watched her, observing the way her fingers delicately traced the patterns on her skirt, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She was breathtakingly beautiful in her quiet intensity.

The chime. Another choice. This time, it felt like a final push.

[CHOICE A]: Discuss the history of the temple.
[CHOICE B]: Confess his feelings of admiration for her intelligence and grace.
[CHOICE C]: Gently cup her face and kiss her, asking for her unspoken desires.
[CHOICE D]: Suggest a quiet meditation, closing his eyes and waiting for her to make the first move.

C was the direct path. D felt too passive given the situation. The previous interactions, the compliments, the invitation to this secluded space – it all pointed to a direct, intimate action. The timer. The familiar, irresistible pull towards C. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, but he was starting to trust their judgment, especially when it came to beautiful women.

"Two… one… Choice C selected automatically."

Yuya reached out, his hands gently cupping Miyuki’s elegant face. Her eyes, usually so composed, widened slightly, a flicker of vulnerability in their depths. He leaned in, slowly, his gaze locked with hers, conveying everything he couldn't put into words. Her lips, soft and slightly parted, were an irresistible invitation. He kissed her, softly at first, a tender exploration. Miyuki, usually so reserved, responded with a surprising intensity, her hand rising to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer, her lips parting further, inviting a deeper connection.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Miyuki let out a soft, almost imperceptible moan, a sound of pure desire that shocked and thrilled Yuya. Her body, usually so poised, began to tremble subtly against his. He felt her inherent control beginning to unravel, giving way to a raw, passionate yearning. His hands slid down her neck, tracing the delicate curve of her collarbone, then lower, beneath her blazer, to the soft fabric of her blouse. He felt the warmth of her skin, the racing pulse beneath his fingertips.

"Miyuki-san," he whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss for a moment, his voice husky. "Tell me… what do you truly desire?"

Her eyes fluttered open, dark and heavy with longing. "Yuya-kun…" she breathed, her voice barely audible, thick with emotion. "I… I desire you. To be touched by you, to be held by you, to forget everything else in your arms." Her confession was delivered with a quiet intensity that was utterly captivating, a rare glimpse into the passionate heart of the usually composed class representative. It was clear his mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, but in this moment, he was thankful for the push.

Her words were all the permission he needed. His fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the pristine white camisole beneath. Miyuki shivered, a sensual tremor running through her. He peeled back the camisole, exposing the soft, pale skin of her décolletage, then unhooked her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her exquisitely shaped breasts, her nipples already taut and begging for attention. He lowered his head, gently suckling, eliciting a soft gasp and an arched back from Miyuki. She tangled her fingers in his hair, guiding him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

His hands traced the elegant lines of her body, slowly undoing her skirt, letting it pool around her ankles. Her panties, simple and white, were already damp, a clear sign of her intense arousal. He gently slipped them down, revealing the soft, shadowed mound between her legs. Miyuki, usually so modest, lay before him, utterly vulnerable and utterly beautiful. He gazed at her, taking in every detail, before pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, making her gasp and arch.

"Yuya… oh, Yuya…" she whispered, her voice a plea. She pulled him closer, her legs parting in silent invitation. He positioned himself above her, looking into her eyes, which were now glazed with pure desire. He entered her slowly, savoring her tightness, the gasp of pleasure she let out. Miyuki wrapped her long legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her hands clutching his shoulders, her body moving in an ancient rhythm, responding to his every thrust. Her moans, usually so suppressed, now echoed softly in the quiet temple, a symphony of uninhibited pleasure. Her orgasm was a torrent, her body convulsing against his, tears welling in her eyes, a complete surrender to sensation. Yuya felt himself building, the intensity overwhelming him, and with a guttural cry, he too found his release deep within her, collapsing onto her, their bodies entwined, bathed in the soft, sacred light of the temple. The experience, born from his impossible mental choices, was profound, passionate, and utterly transcendent.

The final night of the school trip brought the promised fireworks. Everyone gathered on the beach, the atmosphere festive and alive. But Yuya had a particular apprehension. He knew Ayaka would be seeking him out. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, ensuring no one would be left untouched.

As the first explosion of color painted the night sky, Ayaka found him, pulling him aside from the crowd, her eyes sparkling with excitement and something more intense. "Yuya-kun! Isn't this amazing? But you know what would be even more amazing?" she whispered, her voice husky, her gaze direct and challenging.

The chime. Yuya braced himself, already anticipating the absurd. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, relentlessly pushing him towards these passionate encounters.

[CHOICE A]: Express agreement about the fireworks.
[CHOICE B]: Suggest they get a drink from the refreshment stand.
[CHOICE C]: Declare that *she* is the most amazing thing, and pull her into the shadows for a passionate embrace.
[CHOICE D]: Challenge her to a secret game of "seven minutes in heaven" in a nearby, secluded lifeguard hut.

Choices C and D. Both incredibly bold, perfectly suited for Ayaka’s daring personality. C was romantic, D was explicitly suggestive of a clandestine encounter. The timer. He felt a strong, almost mischievous pull towards D. It was so much like Ayaka. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, and he was, for the first time, starting to find a strange thrill in their wild abandon.

"Two… one… Choice D selected automatically."

Yuya leaned close to Ayaka, his voice low and conspiratorial, a playful glint in his eyes. "You know what would be even more amazing, Ayaka-chan? A secret game of 'seven minutes in heaven.' I know just the place… that old lifeguard hut, just beyond the dunes, practically deserted." He gestured subtly with his head, his gaze challenging her.

Ayaka’s eyes widened, then a wide, mischievous grin spread across her face. "Ooh, Yuya-kun! You naughty boy! I like that. Seven minutes, you say? Make it ten." She grabbed his hand, her grip firm and confident, and pulled him away from the bustling crowd, towards the dark shadows beyond the beach, her laughter echoing softly amidst the roar of the fireworks.

The lifeguard hut was old and rustic, smelling faintly of salt and wood. Inside, it was surprisingly spacious, just enough room for them to stand, or more intimately, to lie down. The thumping bass of the fireworks provided a rhythmic backdrop, punctuated by their muffled explosions. Ayaka turned to him, her eyes shining in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls. "So, Yuya-kun," she purred, her voice low and seductive, "what shall we do with our ten minutes in heaven?"

The chime. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, but now, they felt less like an imposition and more like a thrilling guide.

[CHOICE A]: Engage in playful banter.
[CHOICE B]: Share a chaste, friendly kiss.
[CHOICE C]: Declare his wild desire for her, and initiate an urgent, passionate encounter right there.
[CHOICE D]: Challenge her to see who could strip faster, making it a game of seductive unveiling.

D was so utterly Ayaka. It combined her playful spirit with an undeniable eroticism. The timer. The magnetic pull towards D was undeniable. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, leading him to this exhilarating precipice.

"Two… one… Choice D selected automatically."

Yuya smirked, a confidence he hadn't known he possessed rising to the surface. "Ayaka-chan, I have a better idea. A little game. Let's see who can strip faster. Winner gets… to dictate the pace of our 'heavenly' experience." He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes.

Ayaka gasped, then laughed, a joyous, uninhibited sound. "Oh, you are definitely more fun than you look, Yuya-kun! You're on!" With a theatrical flourish, she began unbuttoning her blouse, her movements quick and practiced, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Yuya, spurred on by her enthusiasm, matched her pace, their fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers in the dim light, a flurry of clothing hitting the wooden floor. Within moments, they stood before each other, gloriously naked, their bodies illuminated by the flashes of the distant fireworks, the salty air clinging to their skin.

"I win!" Ayaka declared triumphantly, her breasts heaving, her eyes blazing with desire. "Now… I get to dictate. And I dictate… that you kiss me, Yuya-kun, like you've never kissed anyone before." She launched herself at him, her lips crashing against his, a fiery, demanding kiss that left him breathless. Her hands roamed over his chest, down his back, her touch electric, igniting every nerve ending.

He responded with equal fervor, his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, tasting her wild energy, her playful dominance. Her body was athletic and supple, pressing against his, every curve a revelation. She moaned into his mouth, then broke the kiss, her eyes shining. "Now, Yuya-kun, I dictate that you touch me… everywhere. Make me tremble." She guided his hands to her breasts, her nipples already hard and expectant. He cupped them, feeling their fullness, then lowered his head, suckling greedily, eliciting a guttural moan from her.

Ayaka’s body arched, her hips grinding against his, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She was a whirlwind of sensation, her hands tracing patterns on his back, her nails lightly raking his skin, a delicious torment. He knelt before her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him up and into her. The friction was immediate, intense, and exquisitely painful in its pleasure. She gasped, crying out as he filled her, her body clenching around him. She was tight, wet, and utterly insatiable. He moved within her, slowly at first, then picking up the pace, matching her eager thrusts, her passionate cries. The small hut filled with their panting breaths, the rhythmic slap of skin, and Ayaka's increasingly desperate moans as she rode him with a wild abandon. Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, a series of spasms that rocked her body, her voice breaking into a joyous shriek of pure ecstasy. Yuya, consumed by her fiery passion, soon followed, his own release a powerful tremor through his body, collapsing against her, their sweat-slicked bodies intertwined under the explosive symphony of the fireworks. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, leading to moments of profound, uninhibited pleasure.

The school trip ended, but the consequences of his mental choices lingered, blossoming into a complex, beautiful reality. Sakura, Miyuki, and Ayaka. Each of them had experienced his forced, yet sincere, advances. Each of them, in their own unique way, had responded with a passion that had shocked him, and delighted him. What surprised him most was not just their individual affections, but the strange, unspoken understanding that began to form between the three of them regarding him.

There were lingering glances exchanged between the girls, soft smiles when one of them saw him being affectionate with another. There was no anger, no jealousy, but a curious, almost familial acceptance. Perhaps his mental choices, by stripping away the layers of conventional romantic expectations, had inadvertently forged a unique bond, a shared secret that brought them closer, not just to him, but to each other. They were all complicit, all part of this unfolding, unconventional school romantic comedy, a romantic comedy where his mental choices were completely interfering in the most delightful and intimate ways.

One afternoon, weeks later, he found himself walking home with all three of them. Sakura walked on his left, her hand occasionally brushing his, a soft blush on her cheeks. Miyuki walked on his right, her gaze thoughtful, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Ayaka bounced playfully ahead, occasionally turning to flash him a teasing, sensual grin.

The chime. Yuya smiled. He no longer dreaded the choices; he anticipated them with a thrill. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, and he wouldn't have it any other way. This was his life now, a life of shared affection, passionate nights, and an ever-unfolding, deeply erotic adventure.

[CHOICE A]: Declare his heartfelt affection for all three of them, acknowledging their unique place in his heart.
[CHOICE B]: Suggest a shared dinner at his place, hinting at a night of communal intimacy.
[CHOICE C]: Challenge them all to a playful race home, with the promise of a special "prize" for the winner.
[CHOICE D]: Simply intertwine his hands with both Sakura and Miyuki, letting his actions speak for themselves, while winking conspiratorially at Ayaka.

He felt a powerful, overwhelming surge of love and gratitude. He didn't want to choose just one. He wanted to embrace them all, openly and shamelessly. The timer began its familiar countdown, but this time, it felt less like a command and more like an affirmation of his own blossoming desires. He closed his eyes, a serene smile on his face, feeling the warmth of Sakura and Miyuki beside him, hearing Ayaka's joyful laughter ahead.

"Two… one… Choice D selected automatically."

Yuya opened his eyes, and without a word, he gently took Sakura’s hand in his left and Miyuki’s hand in his right. Their fingers intertwined naturally, a silent acknowledgment of their shared connection. He met Sakura’s soft gaze, then Miyuki’s calm, understanding eyes, before winking playfully at Ayaka as she turned back to look at them, her grin widening as she instantly understood. A silent, shared understanding passed between the four of them. His mental choices were completely interfering with his school romantic comedy, yes, but they were also creating a wonderfully complex, deeply passionate, and utterly fulfilling love story, one that was only just beginning.