The second I left Mrs. Honekawa behind, my mind didn't calm down—it ignited. She was a goddamn slut. There was no other word. Every sway of her hips, every casual tilt of her chest, every flicker of her eyes had screamed the truth to me. And the numbers hovering in my HUD weren't exaggerations—they were proof, a neon sign flashing the filthy history of a woman who had spent her life drenched in debauchery.
And Suneo… the little shit had inherited every ounce of his mother's perversion. A spoiled, greedy brat with all the arrogance of a rich kid who had never been told no. I clenched my fists, jaw tight, muttering curses under my breath. "Fuck… the whole goddamn family… filthy, rich bastards… I can't believe it. Every last one of them. Perverted beyond fucking belief."
My cock throbbed at the memory, pressing painfully against my shorts. She had been walking down the street like a queen, perfectly polished, casually fucking herself with a dildo in her ass, talking to me like it was nothing, like it was ordinary, like she wasn't vibrating and dripping and moaning internally while making small talk. And I had watched. I had seen it all. My hands twitched at my sides, my mind spinning, heat coiling low, imagining her in every possible scenario: on the sofa, across the kitchen counter, in the shower, in her silk sheets with the device buried deep, fucking herself while her son did… God, the thought alone made me grow harder, faster.
"Fuck… dirty, filthy cunt," I hissed, pacing. "She's a goddamn slut, just like that little fuck Suneo. Every ounce of her perversion… inherited, multiplied, and dripping out into the world. The richest, most decadent, most disgusting family in the neighborhood…"
I couldn't stop thinking about all of it—the wealth, the arrogance, the indulgence. Every luxury they owned was coated in lust. Their house wasn't a home; it was a shrine to their twisted desires. Velvet, silk, gold, toys, contraptions, secret doors and hidden corners—I could imagine every device, every dildo, every hidden strap-on, every luxurious whore-like indulgence hidden behind the pristine façades. Mrs. Honekawa moving elegantly while dripping with secret filth, Suneo cumming into panties he shouldn't have even touched yet, and Gian somewhere, probably pounding or being pounded, just as reckless and filthy.
I muttered curses again, louder this time, spitting them into the empty street. "Fucking hell… all of them. The whole rotten clan. Every last one of you, rich as sin and twice as perverted. You deserve every filthy, disgusting second of attention I can give you."
My thoughts didn't pause. Every moan I'd seen, every wet, slick motion, every secret gasp had taken root inside me. I imagined Mrs. Honekawa leaning back on a chair, hips tilted, fingers buried deep, her cunt dripping and ass vibrating against some hidden toy, and Suneo jerking off right there, eyes wide, mouth whimpering as he imagined or replayed every fuck she'd ever had. The image burned in my mind, vivid and unstoppable.
"Fuck… filthy rich slut… cum-drunk brat… every goddamn one of you," I hissed again, cock straining, hands twitching, wanting, desperate. "Every single filthy indulgence you've had… I'm going to see it, touch it… fuck it into reality if I have to."
The more I thought, the hotter I got. My HUD ticked away in my vision, teasing me with numbers I had memorized already but wanted again: 117, 203… each one a lifetime of lust, proof of secret lives lived in wet sheets, sticky floors, moans echoing against walls that had never seen my eyes.
And I wanted it all. Every vibration, every wet gasp, every filthy sigh that Mrs. Honekawa had ever made, every secret cumshot hidden behind the doors of their palace of indulgence, every whimper of Suneo, every groan of Gian, every twisted, decadent act of the Honekawa clan—I wanted it. I wanted it all, and I would take it. Every inch, every second, every secret pulse of lust vibrating beneath their skins was mine to observe, mine to imagine, mine to corrupt further.
I laughed then, low and dark, pacing the street, hands flexing, heat pooling, cock straining with the memory of it. "Goddamn… filthy little sluts… richest perverts in the neighborhood… every single one of you deserves to be exposed, drained, fucked into your own filth…"
The thought alone made me stagger, gripping my thighs, imagining her, imagining them all, imagining the sound of their cum hitting silk, their cries and moans, every twitch, every pulse, every secret indulgence laid bare. The HUD flashed faintly in my vision, reminding me of the power I had—the control, the insight, the voyeuristic dominion over a family that thought themselves untouchable.
And the filthy, glorious thought made me grin. Every secret, every filthy act, every perverted motion… it was mine. All of it. The richest, the most perverted, the utterly decadent Honekawas. I could see it, feel it, taste it in my mind, and I was going to enjoy every, single, goddamn second.