I licked my lips, savoring the lingering taste of Sakura's release. It was sweet and a bit salty. There was a clean, almost innocent quality to it, like fresh spring water mixed with something more primal. It coated my tongue with a slick residue that made me want to dive back in immediately.
I glanced from the panting, pleasure-drunk pinkette sprawled beneath me to the blonde woman stepping into the room. The middle-aged woman was still naked and hadn't bothered to "freshen up" at all. If anything, she looked worse. The mascara was still smudged under her eyes in dark streaks, giving her a fucked-out, racoon-eyed look. But there was something else. Something I noticed as she moved into the light.
Did she... spread my cum over her face?
Her skin had an unnatural sheen to it, glossy and sticky-looking in certain places. Patches of dried white residue clung to her cheekbones and jawline.
Absurd, I thought. Not surprising, though.
But I couldn't care less. Her presence was annoying right now.
I wanted this moment alone with Sakura. I wanted to savor the conquest, the corruption, my hard-earned fruit.
Mebuki must have sensed my irritation. Her eyes darted to my face, reading my expression. Her smile twitched, then stretched wider, morphing into the shady salesman grin of someone trying to sell you something you didn't ask for.
"I hope I didn't interrupt something," she said brightly, taking a slow, cautious step closer to the bed. She didn't wait for me to answer. "You want a moment alone with her."
It wasn't a question. It was an observation.
"Of course you do," she continued, her eyes flicking to Sakura's sprawled, trembling form. She took in the mess. The wet sheets, the glistening thighs, the way Sakura's chest heaved with each ragged breath. Mebuki's expression softened into something almost envious. "Oh, lucky girl," she murmured, her voice thick with longing. "He ate you. Do you know how rare that is? Most men won't even—"
She caught herself, clearing her throat.
"But look at her," Mebuki said, gesturing to Sakura like she was presenting evidence in a trial. "She's overwhelmed. If you leave her alone with her thoughts right now, she'll panic. She'll spiral. She'll ruin the moment for both of you."
She took another step closer, emboldened by my silence.
"Let me help, Eishin-sama," she said, her voice dropping into a pleading register. "Having her mother by her side in such an important moment….. I can keep her calm. Keep her focused. Keep her from embarrassing herself."
I didn't answer. I was busy calculating. Could I fuck Mebuki into unconsciousness before Sakura regained enough clarity to freak out? It was possible. The woman was a civilian—stamina wasn't her strong suit. But it was risky. If Sakura came out of her post-orgasmic haze and saw me pounding her mother into the mattress, she might bolt. The delicate psychological framework I'd built could collapse.
Mebuki took my silence as the only consent she needed. She crawled onto the bed and moved beside Sakura, settling herself near the girl's head. She placed a hand on Sakura's damp forehead, brushing back the strands of pink hair plastered there with sweat.
"Look at you, poor thing," Mebuki cooed in a maternal, soothing voice. "You're trembling like a leaf. Completely spent, aren't you? It's alright, sweetheart. Mother's here now."
Sakura's glazed eyes rolled toward the sound of her mother's voice. "Mom...?" she mumbled, her voice slurred and distant. "What're you... why are you...?"
Sakura didn't even know where she was. She was high up somewhere in the stratosphere. Understandable. Sakura didn't have noteworthy stamina—hell, it was average at best—and she'd just endured two consecutive, earth-shattering orgasms that had left her squirting like a broken fountain.
That had effectively fried her neural pathways. She was currently floating in a sea of endorphins, her body a useless, heavy anchor.
Mebuki shifted closer, gently lifting Sakura's head and cradling it in her lap. "Shh, it's alright," she whispered, stroking her daughter's hair. "Mother's back. You didn't think I'd leave you alone for your first time, did you? That would be cruel."
My cock twitched at the phrasing.
Sakura blinked slowly, trying to process the words, but they didn't seem to register. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, her breathing still ragged.
"Come here," Mebuki murmured, settling Sakura's head more comfortably against her thighs. "Let Mother hold you. I'll guide you through it. I'll make sure you don't embarrass yourself in front of Sensei."
"...don't wanna... embarrass..." Sakura mumbled, the words barely coherent. Her eyes fluttered shut.
"That's right," Mebuki said soothingly. Then she reached down, her fingers finding the bunched-up fabric of Sakura's useless pink apron skirt. She scrunched it up higher, exposing more of Sakura's pale stomach and the curve of her hips. "There we go," she said, glancing at me with a satisfied smile. "This will make it easier for you, Eishin-sama. No obstructions."
She didn't stop there.
Mebuki's hands slid lower, gripping Sakura's trembling thighs. She began to spread them apart gently, her voice taking on a coaxing, instructional tone.
"Don't be rude, Sakura." She looked down at her daughter, her voice becoming firm, almost stern, "Open your legs for your Sensei. Show him you're ready to receive his instruction. Don't make him wait."
Sakura, currently too high on pleasure to put up a fight, responded to the conditioned reflex of obeying her mother's voice. Slowly, with barely any strength, her legs parted.
The view was enough to make a saint commit arson.
Her thighs were slick with a mix of sweat and her own fluids, glistening under the dim hotel light. The pale skin was flushed pink, trembling from exertion and overstimulation. Between them, her virgin pussy was a swollen, puffy mess—lips still parted from my earlier assault, still twitching, still weeping fluid that caught the light like dew, a viscous trail of arousal onto the already-soaked sheets beneath her. The hair was matted and damp, clinging to her skin. Her whole lower body looked like it had been through a storm.
Mebuki's smile widened with pride. "Good girl," she praised, stroking Sakura's hair. Then she looked up at me, her expression smug and triumphant, as if she'd just presented me with a five-course meal. See? I told you I'd be useful. Her eyes seemed to say.
Breathing hard, blood singing in my veins, I shuffled forward on my knees. My hands gripped Sakura's trembling thighs, spreading them wider to make room for my body.
Sakura's teary green eyes blinked up at me. "Sensei...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Then she felt it. Something hot and heavy settled onto her stomach.
Her gaze drifted downward. The haze in her eyes cleared just a fraction, enough for her to register what she was seeing.
My cock.
It rested along the length of her abdomen, thick and rigid, the head reaching past her navel. Against her pale, slender frame, it looked enormous—obscene, even. The contrast was stark: her soft, unmarked skin versus the angry, flushed red of my shaft.
Her eyes went wide. Her breath hitched.
"Th-that's..." she stammered, her voice cracking. "That's... too big... it won't... it can't..."
Panic started to creep into her expression, her body tensing beneath me.
Mebuki intervened immediately, her hand cupping Sakura's cheek and turning her face away from the sight.
"Shh, shh, don't look, sweetheart," Mebuki said gently, almost dismissively. "Don't overthink it. You'll just scare yourself. Your body knows what to do. You've already taken him in your mouth, haven't you? You did well then. This is just the next step."
"But—"
"Trust Mother," Mebuki interrupted, stroking her daughter's hair soothingly. "I've done this. I know what you can handle. You're a Haruno. We're stronger than we look."
Sakura's breathing was still rapid, her chest rising and falling erratically, but Mebuki's voice, calm, authoritative, and maternal, was working. The panic ebbed slightly, replaced by confused compliance.
I leaned forward, pressing my weight onto my hands, caging Sakura beneath me.
"Relax, Sakura," I murmured, my voice low and steady. "We're not rushing. Just breathe."
Her wide, teary eyes met mine, searching for reassurance, for safety.
I gave her a small smile.
Then I reached down and lined myself up.
Mebuki glanced up at me with an apologetic smile, the kind a hostess might give when her guest finds a hair in the soup. "She's a bit tense, Eishin-sama," she said lightly, still stroking Sakura's hair. "First-time jitters, you understand. She'll settle once she realizes there's nothing to fear. Girls her age always overthink these things."
I ignored the mother for the moment and focused on the daughter. I gave Sakura a reassuring smile, my thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles on the tender flesh of her inner thighs.
"Relax, Sakura," I murmured, my voice low and steady. "We're not rushing. Just breathe."
The gentle pressure, combined with the lingering fog of her post-orgasmic haze, worked like a sedative. Her breathing evened out slightly. The rigid tension in her muscles softened, though a thread of panic still lingered in her foggy green eyes.
I pulled my hips back slowly, dragging my shaft down the length of her lower belly. The head traced a path over her navel, through the damp, matted forest of her pubic hair, gliding through the slick mess of her arousal until I was sliding directly between her swollen labia, stoking her delicate pussy lips.
The wet, obscene tickled my balls through my ears. Schlick. Schlick.
Sakura's breath hitched. Her eyes tracked the movement, watching my cock stroke lazily through her folds, coating itself in her viscous fluids. Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling faster.
"Sensei..." she mumbled, her voice distant and dreamy. She trailed off, mesmerized by the sight of my shaft sliding against her most intimate place, building a rhythm that made her hips twitch involuntarily. She bit her lip, a flush deepening on her cheeks. "I... I don't think I'm ready... it's too much..."
Mebuki's hand stilled in Sakura's hair. Her expression tightened.
"Ready?" Mebuki repeated, her voice taking on a sharp, almost scolding edge. "Sakura, girls your age are already married. Some have children. You're more than ready—you're overdue. Don't be childish."
The shame in Mebuki's words cut through the lust haze. Sakura's expression shifted instantly from dreamy confusion to irritation. Her brows furrowed, her jaw clenched, and she turned her head sharply to glare up at her mother.
"Mom, that's not—"
I was a little irritated myself—Mebuki's timing was spectacularly bad, this time—but I was also amused. Before Sakura could finish her sentence and spiral into an argument that would kill the mood entirely, I leaned down, closing the distance between us.
Sakura's glare shifted from her mother to me. It dissolved immediately into flustered embarrassment as my face hovered inches from hers.
"Sensei, what are you—"
"It's alright to be afraid," I cut her off gently.
Sakura blinked. Her shoulders stiffened, and her pride flared. She frowned, her nose scrunching in that adorable way it did when she was indignant. "I'm not afraid," she insisted, though her voice wavered. It was a struggle for her to maintain that defiant expression when my cock was still stroking lazily against her sensitive pussy, each pass making her breath hitch.
"I know you're brave, Sakura." I smiled down at her, warm and patient. "But being brave doesn't mean the absence of fear. It's acting in spite of it."
She fluttered her lashes and blinked again, trying to parse the philosophy while her brain was short-circuiting from the stimulation downstairs.
"I'm... I'm not afraid…." she repeated, though her voice was softer this time, ending in a breathy exhale as the head of my cock pushed directly against her clit.
I cupped her face gently, my thumb brushing her flushed cheek. I looked deep into her green eyes, holding her gaze.
"That makes one of us," I murmured. "I'm terrified."
Sakura's eyes widened in surprise. Her lips parted. "You... you were scared? Your first time?"
"No?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "I should have, oddly enough, I wasn't. My first time was chaotic. Middle of a mission. I thought I wasn't going to make it out alive, so I figured... why die a virgin?" I stroked her lower lip with my thumb, watching her pupils dilate. "But still, I wasn't afraid then."
She tried to process that, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as I continued to stroke my cock against her entrance. She opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it, trying to stiffen the moan and not ruin the story.
"But now?" I pulled at her lower lip with my thumb. "Now I'm afraid."
Sakura's expression twisted with confusion. She didn't know whether to reassure me or be offended. The stimulation between her legs wasn't making it any easier to think.
"I'm afraid of messing this up for you," I said, caressing her cheek, my tone earnest. "I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm afraid of going too fast, or too slow, or being too rough when you need me to be gentle. I'm afraid of ruining your first time, Sakura. Because you deserve better than that. You deserve to feel safe. Cherished. I want to give you everything. I want to make this a memory you'll never want to forget."
Sakura stared at me, breathless, for a long moment. A new, deeper shade of pink blossomed on her cheeks, unrelated to the heat of arousal.
She twisted her lips, breaking eye contact, huffing as she turned her face to the side.
"Seriously, Sensei," she muttered, her voice thick with embarrassment. "You say the most embarrassing things. How can you just... say stuff like that with a straight face?" Deflecting with feigned annoyance because she didn't know how to handle genuine affection. We have something in common there.
"Practice," I replied dryly. "And shamelessness."
That earned me a weak, breathy laugh.
But then I pulled my tone back more serious. "Be that as it may," I said, my hand starting to withdraw from her face, "you're my priority. If you're not ready—"
"No!" Sakura's hand shot up, grabbing my wrist before I could pull away completely.
I froze, looking down at her in surprise. She looked just as surprised as I was, her eyes wide, her grip tight.
I relaxed, returning my hand to her face. She seemed to calm instantly, her shoulders dropping.
"I... I didn't mean..." She swallowed hard, her voice stuttering slightly. "I don't know if I'm ready. Maybe... maybe I was a little afraid when I said that. But—" She paused, struggling to find the words. "But Sensei's never been unfair to me. Even when you've been... harsh with me, it was always for my own good. You never did it to hurt me. Just to... teach me."
She swallowed again, her cheeks burning.
"What I'm trying to say is..." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I don't think you'll ruin anything for me. Just... just be gentle. P-please."
Her face was so red I thought she might combust. Every drop of blood in her body seemed to have migrated to her cheeks, turning her into a living tomato.
Full consent. Freely given.
I hadn't been about to give up, of course. I had other methods. Teasing her, playing her sensitive spots like a fiddle, edging her again and again until her body overrode her brain and she admitted she was ready. Her virgin, sensitive body wouldn't have been able to resist.
But this…. This was infinitely better.
Mebuki's voice cut through the moment. "Well, finally," she said with exasperation. "Honestly, Sakura, making a man like him wait for your permission... you should be grateful he has the patience of—"
Neither of us heard her.
I leaned in slowly. Sakura watched me come closer, her breath hitching. But she understood. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she puckered her lips, awkwardly, stiffly, like she was bracing for impact rather than a kiss.
I pressed my mouth to hers.
Her lips were soft, plump, and trembling. Despite her acceptance, they were rigid with nervousness, pressed together too tightly. It was her first kiss. She had no idea what to do.
I kept it gentle at first. Just a press of lips. I coaxed her slowly, nibbling her lower lip, sucking it gently, until she started to relax and give in. Her mouth softened. I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. She made a small, questioning noise in her throat but followed my lead instinctively.
I'd yet to meet someone who could resist my kiss. Sakura, inexperienced and overwhelmed, stood no chance.
I stroked her lower lip with my tongue, asking for entrance. She gasped, parting her lips, and I took advantage, slipping inside, tasting her.
Sakura jolted as if electrocuted. Her hands flew up to clutch my shoulders, her nails digging in.
I swept my tongue into her mouth, tasting her—mint and nerves. I tangled my tongue with hers, coaxing it into a dance. She was clumsy, stiff, retreating every time I advanced, but I was patient. I led her, guiding her movements, showing her how to respond.
Soon, the stiffness melted away. She moaned into my mouth, her arms wrapping around my neck to pull me closer. She began to kiss me back with frantic, clumsy enthusiasm, her tongue meeting mine, learning the rhythm.
My cock was still between her legs, sliding against her pussy lips, keeping her in a state of high arousal. Every stroke of my hips elicited a whimper into my mouth.
"Oh, good girl," Mebuki's voice drifted over. "Look at you, moving your hips like that. You're a natural, Sakura. Keep going. Help him along. Don't be—"
I'd been so lost in the kiss I hadn't noticed. But now I felt it. Sakura's hips were moving awkwardly, grinding against me, seeking friction. My cock, now fully coated in her fluids, slid easily through her folds with each clumsy thrust.
I felt a flicker of embarrassment. I'd lost myself in her kiss like some virgin idiot. I should be focusing on her, on her needs, on her pleasure.
But it was... surprisingly good. Kissing Sakura felt right.
But the distraction was useful.
Sakura was still lost in the kiss, completely absorbed in the new sensation. I kissed her harder, dominating her mouth, fighting her tongue, and taming her over and over again. Every time I conquered it, she would yield for a moment, melting into me, only to try and fight back a second later withrenewed vigor. She'd try to fight back, knowing she couldn't win, knowing submission was inevitable. Almost like she loved being put down. She loved being made to submit.
It was time.
While her mouth was busy fighting a losing war, I focused on her hips.
I nudged her pelvis with mine. She followed the movement instinctively, rocking forward to seek more friction. Her wet cunt rubbed against the underside of my shaft.
I nudged again. She rocked back.
I established a rhythm. A subtle back and forth.
Back.
Forth.
Back.
Forth.
She was getting used to it, meeting my thrusts halfway, seeking that amazing friction with blind desperation. She had no idea what she was doing, just following the pleasure.
Back.
Forth.
Back.
And then, just as she started to rock forward again—
I angled my hips down sharply, lining up the head of my cock with her entrance, and pushed forward at the exact moment she pushed back.
I felt resistance for a fraction of a second, but the momentum carried on, and it was breached with a distinct, wet pop.
"Hnng—!"
Her eyes flew open wide against my cheek as she impaled herself on my cock, breaking her own seal and burying me inside her in one smooth, wet slide.
Finally, I was inside Sakura Haruno.
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