Chapter Text
Included amongst the sprawling list of ‘wonders’ brought about by the modern age is the homogenization of experiences enjoyed by children and adolescents. Simply, children raised away from the urban cores of the developed world no longer differ significantly from their urban counterparts. Where once the difference effectively rendered the two groups as aliens to one another, the centralization of populations around these sprawling urban cores and the affordability (and availability) of modern technologies render them largely indistinguishable from one another–
With caveats, of course.
Just as before, the narrowness of the environments that surround the children born into smaller towns breeds further intimacy with their peers and neighbors. Similarly, the distance between their community and more modern forms of entertainment necessarily limits the ways that they can go about enjoying themselves. Unbeknownst to any of them, their lives are railroaded; comfortably, but enough so to subject them to an overwhelming sense of monotony as they age.
There is, however, a period of ‘youth’ wherein this monotony is neither felt nor acknowledged by them. The majority are all too happy to live their lives in accordance with the railroad beneath them and never once stop to consider what the future might bring.
It is throughout these periods of numbing comfort that the children of these communities separate themselves from their urban counterparts. In what is effectively a void of sameness and comfort, following along with the flow of their lives can lead them to engage in almost anything–
No matter how widely society at large might frown upon it.
-
ELEMENTARY SCHOOL CLASSROOM – MID-AFTERNOON
One at a time, a youth shoveled notebooks and textbooks into a shoulder-sized sack until all that remained atop the surface of his desk was a smartphone. Reflexes hoisted the bag atop his shoulder once sealed and afterwards saw his phone scooped from off of his desk and safely plunged into the pocket of his uniform slacks.
The device sunk deep. Its surroundings were tailored with the frames of children in mind, but these did not agree with the body of every first-year middle school student. Long accustomed to the circumstance, the youth thought nothing of his phone’s settlement against his thigh and continued to follow through with his routines.
Unsurprisingly, maintaining his months-hewn patterns put him in the path of others maintaining their own.
“There you are, Inari. Man, fuck–you’ve always got your head down so I can never tell where the hell you are sometimes,”
“Anyway, Mori already left so we should catch up before he gets pissed off for no reason again. His mom won’t let us stick around forever, but if we get there early enough we’ll still have plenty of time to beat his ass in free-for-all like usual.”
Before the youth could set off from his desk, another appeared behind him and set a hand atop his shoulder. Pleasantly surprised by their contact, an expression of surprise briefly spread across his face before his peer’s address prompted a nod of understanding.
“...Uh, sure. Sounds good. It probably won’t matter much if we rush, though.” he replied.
“What? Why’s that?” The larger youth responded with a question, but its tone suggested that he was more than willing to accept any sort of explanation given to him.
“Well, it’s Mori. Even if we’re a little bit late, he’s going to try and keep us there as long as he can. Honestly, we’ll probably end up sleeping over if it seems like we won’t be around long enough,”
At this, the larger youth’s face broadened into a smirk.
“Always using that head of yours, huh? Makes me wonder why you’re so quiet all the time when you can rattle off shit like that,” He replied. “We won’t know ‘till we get there, though. Let’s stop talking and start walking?”
This time, the youth was agreeable. With a wordless nod, he finished collecting his things and pushed his gait behind his friend’s as soon as he set off. A second or so placed him at parity with his peer and saw the two of them set in stride towards their destination together.
As it turned out though, the two of them were destined to never truly depart. Hardly steps out of the classroom, the device forgotten inside the youth’s pocket vibrated against his thigh at a familiar cadence. Thinking nothing of the notification whilst beside his friend, he scooped his phone out of his pocket and turned on its screen without a second thought.
Doing so reaped a result that he hadn’t prepared for. At the bottom of a message chain whose contents were kept purposely short was an image that depicted a narrow rectangular device pinched between the fingers of an unseen woman. Across a narrow patch spread across the device’s middle was a single red line–one whose meaning was unambiguous for those old enough to have been subjected to sexual education.
The sight of the object itself wasn’t surprising to the youth; he had seen several of them before and wasn’t overly sensitive to sexual topics in the first place. What widened his eyes and tightened his grip on the device in his hand were the blocks of text directly above the image itself.
Were it not that his friends and classmates stood within earshot of him, he may well have screamed at it.
“I took another test just to be on the safe side. I know you weren’t going to question it in the first place, but women need to be sure about these things as they get older,”
“Should I go ahead and send this to your mom? Or would you rather talk about it first?”
A simple pair of questions precluded any further thoughts of leisure for Inari. His eyes stared at the face of his phone as if hoping to erase it from existence with only his gaze; pointlessly, but so intently that the entire world around him came to a grinding halt.
When it became apparent that no amount of staring would remove it from his sight or his heart from his throat, he returned it to his pocket–
So did he clear it from his line of sight did he set about clearing himself from his companion’s.
“...On second thought, I gotta go. Text Mori that I can’t come, ok?”
“What? What the fuck do you mean, man? What just happened?”
“Exactly what I said. I can’t explain right now–I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”
Usually, his exits were cleaner; more thorough in their preparation and execution. Today, however, he could do nothing but break from his friend’s side and wave back at him once several strides away.
There was no time: for thought, discretion–for anything.
Not if Ann was the woman that he believed himself to be.
-
AN APARTMENT
If one were to have asked Sotomura Ann about what she might be doing at 37 years of age in her youth, emotionally blackmailing a first-year middle school student was unlikely to have been her first answer.
Many of the other absurd realities of her life could be regarded the same way. Whether born in rural towns or sprawling cities, women scarcely imagine themselves as unmarried convenience store workers past the age of 30. Failed marriages and relationships are conceivable (if off-putting), and an unwillingness to leave the town of their birth for greener pastures is understandable (if disappointing). Comparatively, the ‘failure’ associated with working part-time at different stores to make ends meet and actively engaging in a relationship with a ‘man’ young enough to be her son seems so inconceivable that considering it as a possible future for themselves is regarded as more unreasonable than ignoring it entirely.
How quickly life had caught up with her was no longer a subject that Ann considered in her daily life. Minutes removed from sending a disruptive chain of messages to her de-facto boyfriend’s phone right at the end of his school day, the activities that she busied herself with were anything but contemplative. A brief stint of cleaning for the cramped confines of her one-bedroom apartment preceded periods spent opposite a counter and stove. More focused on preparing the beginnings of dinner than doing anything about the disheveled state of her hair or the sweat-dampened clothing that clung to stretches of succulent bloat and aged curvature about her frame, she did not abandon her bounce between these tasks until a knock at her door demanded it of her.
Unchanged by the fact that the main event of her evening was to begin, she left her preparations in a place that would not see them undone by the passage of time and presented herself opposite her front door.
Peeling its face open failed to change her expression in the slightest. For all of the fresh perspiration that seeped from her armpits as she progressed and all of the new squirming within her inseminated core, the tired woman that appeared from behind the door was the same one that always did.
Her young suitor reacted more strongly to this than she could have ever predicted.
“Hi, Inari-kun. How was school?” Seeing no reason to begin in any other way than she usually did, Ann greeted the boy as she usually did as well.
Though she did not receive an immediate answer to her question, she was perfectly happy to proceed as though she had.
“I’m sure the heat made it harder. I have all of the fans going and it’s still stuffier in here than I’d like it to be,”
“...”
“I’m glad you decided to come straight here, though. I didn’t leave you much choice, but that’s because there really wasn’t much for me to give you in the first place,” she continued. “It’s ok, though. We can figure out the harder things as we go. The only things we have to worry about now are the things we can’t really put off any longer,”
“...”
“You can stand there and not say anything all you want. It was either this, or I’d have to do it all myself–”
“I’m an adult, remember?”
The source of Inari’s silence was more so distraction than discontentment. Half-jogging, half-sprinting through the heat and humidity of early summer had spiked his throbbing heart rate even further. With adrenal and exertion added to the overwhelming sense of anxiety that had consumed him, making his way up to the floor of Ann’s apartment had nearly ended him.
When she opened up her door, all of his physiological arousal became sexual arousal. Despite having had several months to acclimate himself to every aspect of her 5’8’’ frame in the most intimate sense possible, Ann’s presence still managed to inspire a cloying form of arousal in him.
Exactly what it was did this to him varied by the day. Some days, it was the fact that she stood only a pair of inches taller than him and presented as a more approachable version of the young women he interacted with at school. Other days it was the wispy dishevelment of her hair, the nigh-indetectable beginnings of wrinkles underneath her eyes, or the matronly firmness of her voice.
Today, her appeal was utterly degenerate. Never one for excess niceties in her own home, a simple Inari-pink t-shirt worn from overuse clothed the top half of her frame. Dark spots wrought from excess perspiration could be seen at its neckline, cleavage, and even its underarms; a sharp contrast against the slight tan of her skin.
But these were only a frame. Sagging and sloping ahead of her chest within the t-shirt’s strain-worn fabric were breasts that exceeded the scale of her skull by a handful of inches. Unfairly bloated with fat (relative to the ‘plainness’ of the woman that owned them), the face of her covered cleavage spanned a menacing 18-inches in width whilst the oblong, forward-sloping protrusion of the mounds pushed more than a foot ahead of her. No brassiere sat in place to restrain them, either. With all of their mushiness and wobbliness left unrestricted, the front of her shirt was made to seem as though it had been packed with oblong pears of dough ripened to a sickening, and yet addictive plushiness.
Inari’s closeness meant that he could smell the sweat glazed to them through the fabric of Ann’s shirt. Necessarily, this drew his line of sight downward to the primary product of the hormones caught by his nose–the fertile pudge padded at her midsection and the aged hips and waistline to either side of it. If only just above average relative to the teenagers that he interacted with on a daily basis, the presentation of Ann’s lower body as packed within a pair of faded, ankle-height flex-denim pants was enhanced by the privileged knowledge he maintained about her current state.
It wasn’t just that she was pregnant–were that the case, he could have put the information to the back of his mind just as he had with the impending change that would soon consume his life. It was the fact that the hips that already dwarfed his own were liable to spread outwards, and that the toneless pudge installed within her thighs was likely to get even thicker. He couldn’t see behind her, but the plush, matronly rear that protruded behind her petite frame was guaranteed to become better as well.
Opposite these traits, feeling genuine anger towards Ann was impossible. What he instead felt was a bizarre combination of guilt, and frustration at himself for feeling such a thing when he ought to have been incensed–
Such was his infatuation with Ann and the extent of their relationship’s imbalance.
“I’m not mad…”
“I mean, I kind of am. I was going to get around to, well, all this stuff, eventually.” Inari replied. “I was just trying to figure out the easiest way to do it. A way to make sure that everything would turn out ok without pushing all of the hard stuff onto you…I think,”
“I just needed more time. More time than we had, I guess.”
In the same way that Inari could not bring himself to regard Ann’s actions for what they were, Ann herself remained painfully aware of the fact that the person whose arm she was twisting only just barely understood that he had an arm to twist. After his explanation, her firm silence melted into a casual threading of fingers through her hair, then a depression of this same hand into an affectionate threading through the digits at Inari’s right side.
No air of seriousness descended after the fact. Even at her most strained, Ann made certain to always frame her discontentment in a manner that her young suitor would respond positively to.
“Sometimes, the easiest way to do something is also the hardest. That’s why you got stuck, and that’s why I had to push you,” she replied. “It’s a lot easier than I think you’re making it, though. The sooner your parents know, the sooner we can figure out how you’re going to keep going to school without stressing yourself out. If your mom can help out at least, there will be at least two of us while you’re at school,”
“Making them aware as soon as possible is better than just dropping it on them. Everyone will have time to get used to the idea that way, won’t they?”
Ann knew how absurd she sounded as she spoke. She knew that what she was asking for was fundamentally outrageous. That expecting a youth a fraction of her age to assist in organizing her life was doomed to failure if she did not find the right youth with the right set of motivations. She knew these things, and yet provided her explanations without a hint of hesitation.
She no longer cared. The absurd defined her life; regarding it as anything other than the most normal thing in the world was all that truly remained for her.
“I guess that’s true…” Inari did not sound especially convinced of Ann’s words, but the calm and confidence that she produced whilst saying them sufficed to convince him that her suggestions were still the ‘right thing’ for him to do–what a more experienced adult would do in his exact situation.
Ann left nothing to chance, however. Exercising one of her numerous rights, she used the time that Inari spent speaking to lead him into the humid confines of her apartment by his hand. In it, habits hewn in their time together peeled his feet from his shoes and left him planted opposite her in a state that begged to be utilized.
To say that she merely utilized it was almost inaccurate. While he mused to himself, she released his right hand and stepped in towards his front until her bust was pushed into contact with his chest. Set, she dipped her head inwards and coiled both of her arms around the back of his neck until the tip of her nose brushed into contact with his own.
Here, she chose a reiteration of facts that should never have been funneled into the ears of a middle schooler addicted to stimulation over an embrace.
The warmth in the smile that she produced throughout could have melted stone.
“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” Ann suggested, calmly. “You’ve told me so yourself. Even if it weren’t the best way for us to do it, I have a feeling you’d have ended up wanting to do things this way all on your own,”
“You’re addicted to the body of a sweaty old woman that just so happens to love you thiiiiiiiis much. You’d do anything to make sure you can keep churning up her insides, even if it meant changing the way that you live your life.”
“ Feel free to tell me if I’m wrong, though. I said I’d always try to listen to the things you have to say–letting you fuck a baby into my used up hagpussy won’t change anything for me, ”
“It hasn’t for you either, has it?”
At her new distance, Ann’s use of her normal indoor voice was no different than a sultry whisper breathed directly into Inari’s ear. Caught entirely by surprise, the same ‘air’ that had aroused him seconds before became undeniable. Mere seconds, breaths into the aftermath of her suggestion, his sweat-moistened frame was pushed to the brink of melting and the swollen erection coiled underneath the slacks of his uniform was fattened to a rigidity that promised to see it explode within a matter of seconds.
Inari knew precisely how to handle these changes. For as much as he feigned decency in Ann’s presence, it was his intimate knowledge of exactly how to quiet the urges of his innards that had brought him to this point in the first place.
First, he spoke.
“No. I-It’s not… you don’t have to ever worry about that stuff, either,”
“My body doesn’t know how to like anything else anymore.”
Then, he acted. His words required no explanation, but every sinew of his being demanded that he convey his meaning by pushing his lips into contact with Ann’s and his right hand into a famished curl around her hips and in against the oppressive bloat of her denim-smothered rear.
Ann knew that these things were liable to happen and allowed them to play out precisely as Inari wished–
Just as she had allowed him to beat congealed loads of semen into her womb until one of them found the inexplicably healthy ova inside of her.
-
DIFFERENT ENDS
Inari’s mild disposition belied a certain kind of animalistic intent that was wholly focused on the woman that he indulged in debauchery with. Within seconds of their kiss at the mouth of her apartment, he found the back of the throat that he had claimed* of his own volition and dutifully lashed his tongue against it. Once re-familiarized with its taste and texture, he met the writhing of Ann’s own tongue in kind. Forgetting both decency and moderation, he pressed his lips against her own with an aggressive tightness and vigorously swirled the meat of his organ against her own. Such was the intensity of his efforts that honey-dense saliva oozed through the seal between their lips to an extent that both his and Ann’s mouth were smeared with the substance in a matter of seconds.
His mindless indulgence in Ann’s body escalated by the second. Although smaller and vastly younger than his sometimes-affectless muse, his experience handling her body facilitated a smooth transition to Ann’s living room (if one were reasonable enough to define the box-shaped space as such). The pair’s hurried arrival here bled into a hurried removal of only the clothing that they required to mate with one another. Ann peeled herself from her sweat-soaked jeans and the drenched panties that compressed the aged femininity of her lower half, and Inari relieved himself of the summer-heated slacks and boxers that obscured the sweat-greased bloat of his erection.
With nothing to fear in the way of obstruction, the two of them assumed their usual roles. Without being asked to do so, Ann laid herself out back first across the width of her couch and presented the naked moistness of her lower body to Inari as though it were no more risqué than the flesh of her arm. By simply splaying her left leg over the spine over the spine of the couch and her right into slanted hang off to her right, the sweaty pudge of her midsection and the trimmed modesty of her womanhood were set directly into his line of sight (the latter in a manner that made the syrupy leaking of her arousal especially visceral).
Her ‘indecency’ lasted for only a moment or so. Presented with his foremost desire, Inari snapped down to the space between her legs and briskly aligned the bee-stung bloat of his erection with the mouth of her folds. A bestial swing of his hips skewered its meat into her depths a moment later, which in turn pulled him up to the tips of his toes to create the best thrusting angle possible for himself.
Exactly how much time passed after the squirming blood vessels that enveloped his cudgel were swallowed into her depths was unknown to both of them. At some point or another, the vigorous churning that Inari committed himself to subjected the pair to just enough stimulation to render the passage of time transient. The sharp increase in the apartment’s humidity–to say nothing of their refusal to do anything but huff the aroma of their blended pheromones–harshened their conditions even further.
Neither cared, and no steps were taken to improve the situation.
Truth be told, the only steps manageable by either of them were those that made their circumstance that much worse.
“...C-”
“Cumming. C-Can’t help it–everything’s twisting and clenching so bad on t-the inside. Gonna baste your insides with cockjuice again, Baa-san–”
“Your slimy hagpussy is sucking everything out again…!”
Amidst a blend of torrid huffs and groans from the pair (all of which were subverted by the ceaseless *SLRSHH*(es) and *PLORPS* to be expected of sodden, close-range intercourse), Inari produced one of the few warnings that Ann was capable of attending to.
Its delivery made sense in the grand scheme of things. To this point, a veritable eternity of hook-curved thrusts had seen the full length of his shaft plunged back and forth through the fear-inspiring congestion of Ann’s folds. Achieving a single hilt inside of her meant grinding the sensitive exterior of his length through a sleeve prone to milking convulsions and compression. Displacing splatters of dense cuntsyrup out against the face of his crotch and the drooping of his testicles was necessary as well, but repeated indulgence in her folds had taught him to embrace this brand of debilitation as the norm.
Comparatively, the suckling that the tip of his length received each time he stabbed its exterior into a ‘kiss’ with Ann’s cervix remained too much for him to acclimate to. At the piston-speed pace of his strokes, his mushroom tip was only mushed into contact with the organ for a split second. A depressive meeting that signified his gutting her from back to front. In this split second, though, a force akin to the drag of lips against a straw was imposed onto his length. Ignorant to the fact that it was not yet possible to drag ropes of juvenile cockjuice through his length as a fluid, Ann’s babybutton attempted to do so all the same.
All of this was owed to her insemination. Ann was known to contribute to her mating sessions with Inari of her own volition; to do otherwise was not very becoming for a woman as steeped in degeneracy as she was. Despite this, the minutes (or hours) of their latest bout atop the couch had seen her insides do all of her work for her.
Like Ann herself, they recognized the shape and intention of the male that had seeded them and pointlessly applied themselves to draining yet another pregnancy-inducing load from out of his balls.
Born from the intent of her convulsing innards was a brand of response that only Ann could produce. As if somehow immune to the dribbles of sweat that streaked down her face and the debilitating bliss that bloomed inside her each time her walls were made to spread out around Inari’s length, she brandished more of her ‘usual’ tone for the first time in several minutes.
Yet again, she sought certainty for her efforts’ effectiveness well before she actually acted. In order, she arched her lower back just slightly out of contact with the cushioning of the couch so as to meet the drives of Inari’s crotch that much sooner. In time with this, she found the back of his neck with both of his arms and pulled his face into the sweat-drenched flesh of her neck.
Denying herself a kiss at this juncture was akin to torture. Still, her priorities shone through in the end:
If she wanted to maintain her tireless suitor’s addiction to her, ‘addicting’ was precisely what she needed to be.
“That’s ok. Do it. Squeeze out all of your little boy dickjuice into my pussy,” Her words were flat, but the breathiness that backed them provided them the same sultry airy as a feminine hiss. “You’ve already gotten my pregnant with that boiling sludge, so I know how to deal with it. Only I know how to deal with it. T-That’s why everything has worked out so well,”
“Byuuuu ♥. Byuuu ♥. That’s the sound that it’s going to make when you start spewing dickjuice inside of me. It can’t knock me up anymore, but it’s going to make my tummy so, so warm, Inari. You don’t have to worry about anything this time, either. I’m…already pregnant, so you can clog me as much as you like,”
“That sounds really nice, doesn’t it?”
Speaking as clearly as she had whilst a pair of squirt sodden testicles beat the flesh of her taint and a scalding loaf of cockflesh churned up her innards was no small feat for Ann. In a way, everything that Inari was enduring was endured by her as well. His struggle to keep the ever-growing load of slop brewing within his innards from exploding out of him ahead of schedule was for her a constant struggle to avoid pissing herself from debilitation. Similarly, the erratic squirming that attacked the veins of his length (ironically a by-product of her cunt’s heat and texture) were met by her with increases in constriction produced by her cunt’s convulsions. Both of these things made her that much more desperate to feel his load erupt inside her–just as her suitor was undoubtedly desperate to spew inside of her.
What she wanted was precisely what he wanted; all that separated them was the manner in which they managed these wants.
Nuance was all the difference. As soon as the welcoming calm of her voice touched Inari’s ears, his thrusts grew more thudding, and the rigidity of his length was complemented by a hydraulic tightness that promised to see his manhood burst in a manner of seconds.
Pressing her advantage here was her right as the mother of a child’s child.
“Aw ♥. I knew it would, but I’m still glad I asked. That’s more than enough for me–you can feel how hot and sweaty I am and how much I’m throbbing on the insides. Don’t worry about me at all: oba-san’s drooly hagpussy’s going to squirt and squeeze like crazy just from having your babyjuice inside it again,”
“That means it’s ok to pump it all out inside,”
“Every last smelly drop ♥.”
Whether it was the warm encouragement implied by her words or the horrid perversion that defined her actual utterances that grated on Inari so was debatable. Equally, it was irrelevant. Whichever of the two stung him, the result would have been exactly the same.
No less a man than his larger peers or the adults that controlled his life, a flare of instinct demanded that he apply himself to proceedings. After wrenching his profile from out of the sweet-scented sweatbox at the side of Ann’s neck, he once again set his profile directly opposite her own. This done, he shortened the length of his hooked stroking chain until the weight of his frame commemorated each of his hilts with a deafening *PLORP*.
Steps before his limit, he spewed his own brand of breathy degeneracy straight out at Ann’s face.
“AAA, DERU!! OBAA-SAN NO NAKI DERU!!”
“GONNA BREED HAGPUSSY AGAIN!”
Inari made good on his declaration within seconds of it spilling past his lips. Before his outburst could begin reverberating through the apartment, a final slam-backed surge of his hips sandwiched his crotch against the pudge of Ann’s lower lips and flattened his twitching testicles just below it. The moment his urethra kissed the meat of her cervix again, the stimulation that thundered through his length and crotch coaxed a phallus-contorting eruption of congealed seed up through to a volcanic surge directly against the entrance to her pre-seeded depths.
Though only Ann and Inari could feel it, the scale of this flourish and the glutted discharges that followed were made known to the world at large in a manner that could not be misconstrued.
*BLRRRRRSSSHHH….!!*
*GLORP…GLORP….GLORP*
Over the course of a few short seconds, what sounded like an ejection of lumpy plaster muffled within a container of squirmy flesh was pushed out into the open air that surrounded Ann’s crotch. Once caught by the ear, even the most puritanical layman would be forced to imagine a viscous substance being layered against itself at the back of her canal such that everything around it was obscured by a grotesquely healthy dingy white color. Right as this mental image finished taking shape, its appeal was replaced by something else entirely.
For as often as Ann’s womb was plumped with Inari’s semen, her innards required a certain amount of time to commit themselves to chugging the substance. On occasion–specifically torrid occasions like this–the volume of seed that he spewed at the beginning of his orgasms overwhelmed her depths such that her vaginal canal became her body’s sole line of defense.
Wrought from this circumstance were the rhythmic *GLORP* noises that followed the first flourish of seed from the tip of Inari’s length. Not even a second after the beginning of his orgasm began to wane, a congested strand of seed finished its writhe up through his length and fed its contents into the narrow pool of sludge packaged atop her cervix. In the blink of an eye, several inches of discharge were replaced by several more, which in turn fed another grotesque gulping noise out into the airspace surrounding them.
The vehemence of these noises made it very easy to guess what would follow them. As each splattering noise represented a stockpiling of semen up through Ann’s vaginal canal, a few short seconds of numbing bliss for Inari flooded her depths with an amount of seed that they couldn’t manage in the moment. Without warning, the same congealed, blubber-infused nut that sat atop her cervix was pushed out to a grotesque splatter out from the compressed face of her folds. Focused primarily on the lower end of her womanhood, a pressurized slug of the substance burst into a languid descent across her anus before others like it dribbled out into equally garish streaks around it.
Predictably, the expulsion of these blurts represented the breaking point for the pair responsible for them. Content to slobber on the confines of Ann’s mouth up until this point, Inari met the occasion with a timely peel of his lips off of her own and a strained declaration of his pleasure.
It should have been harmless–another means of commemorating a moment of mutual degeneracy between the pair.
And yet he still should have known better than to commit to it.
“C-Cumming. Plastering your insides with cockjuice feels good! I-It’s melting my brain—I-I feel like I’m going to die! All I want to do is mate with you and I don’t understand w-why,”
“Y-You’re already pregnant, but I want to give you babies lots and lots m—”
“!!!”
Inari did not err in expressing himself. If one were to identify a ‘failing’ in his behavior, it was his inability to predict what his words would reap in the woman below him. Like clockwork, verbalizing his thoughts and their coalescing into intentions inspired Ann to ensure that they were engraved into the core of his psyche.
The best way for her to do that was by participating. Instead of waiting for the remainder of his orgasm to overflow from her flows and soak the couch space underneath them, she contracted her inner walls ever so slightly to smother his length from base to tip.
She did not do so for Inari. A moment’s subjection to more of his erection’s masculine excess was a message that her womanhood knew all too well. Notified that the time for it to gorge itself had come at long last, the quivering of her cervix became the impression of a famished kiss against the nose of his spewing length. From this moment onward, the same debilitating suction that had attacked his shaft during periods of their mating was applied against the peak of his glans near constantly. Like this, the very next thread of wadded sludge that his length was made to part with was dragged into a ceiling-drenching flourish against the peak of her womb—
No–dragged implied volition. On his own, Inari would have parted with the off-white muck all on his own if left to his own devices. Just as she always did, Ann dispossessed him of it at her own pace–a pace meant to match the intensity of the desires that he had uttered.
Funnily enough, he was not allowed to believe this for even a second. Before his frame could be made to feel as though it was being drained from the inside out, Ann used her words to ensure that an entirely different set of thoughts would completely consume his psyche.
It was unfair, but the time to consider this had passed months ago.
“Mhm. You’re filling me so much, Inari. You said you wanted to cake my insides with your babyjuice and that’s exactly what you’re doing. It’s so hot and squirmy inside that it feels like it's boiling. If I press down on my stomach after this, all I’m going to be able to feel is how plump and mushy my womb is,”
“Enjoy it as much as you can, ok? We won’t be able to do this when the baby starts growing, so make sure you squeeze everything out. Oba-san’s going to help as much as she can, but there’s only so much she can do…”
“Cute boys are much better at inseminating the girls that they like, after a-all…”
Yet again, the narrow distance between the pair gave Ann’s words a quality that Inari could not resist. Whereas he could have simply held his position whilst the remainder of his orgasm was drained out inside her womb, some combination of affection and depraved intent urged him to make the event his own.
He started with a few thrusts from his hips. In defiance of his shaft’s debilitated seizing, Inari accelerated the completion of his orgasm by descending into an abbreviated version of the same thrusting chain that had brought him to this point. Made to grimace whilst retracting a fraction of his length, the hold that Ann’s folds maintained on him eventually forced his lips apart and his tongue into a debilitated flop out into the corner of his mouth.
But he didn’t stop. Whilst fattened blurts of seed were tugged from his length, he completed his reel and complimented it with a semen-buffered hilt a moment later. Once slotted in again, he stirred his hips in short circles to grind the meat of his shaft around within her depths; another desperate attempt at ensuring that as much cockjuice as possible ended up inside her.
A truly feral, thoughtless youth would have continued with this process until his frame failed. Inari was all of these things, of course, but not to an extent that condemned him to inefficiency. When the dregs of his orgasm began to feel as though they might require a more intensive draining effort than his hips were capable of producing, he abandoned his thrusts and nuzzles for an activity that would reap the emptiness that he sought.
Where this was concerned, he was just as ruthless as his muse. So as to keep his frame from fixating on the stimulation that coursed through it, he flung his hips backwards and pushed up from off of Ann’s front all at once. Denying the suction of her folds as he went, he successfully unholstered his erection from her depths to the tune of a sodden *PLRP!* and very nearly cleared himself for a stellar collapse at Ann’s side.
Instead, he pushed upward. Planting his left foot onto the floor space beside the couch, he maintained his loom over her frame whilst at the same time drawing his sex-drenched crotch closer and closer to her skull.
To his surprise, bunting the semen-wadded tip of his erection up against Ann’s lips did not go exactly as he had planned. Before he could produce a stroke that would deliver the full length of his erection into her throat, Ann’s own reflexes saw her lips parted and the majority of his length engulfed into the humid moisture of her gullet.
She stared at him as well. As if knowing what he intended to do. As if inviting him to use every portion of her frame as a glorified receptacle for his seed.
Thus, he used it. As her proactivity limited her to a dutiful, lip-spreading suckle at the nose of his length (this creating just enough contact between them to plaster a wire of pubic hair to the edge of her mouth), he complimented her efforts by flinging his crotch forwards and driving himself to another hilt inside her.
Once inside her throat, his body was all too happy to do the remainder of his work for him. Reaching forward with his right hand, Inari pulled Ann’s face into even tighter contact with her crotch. Like clockwork, the meeting between the orgasm-worn meat of his shaft and the slimy constriction of her esophagus pushed several timely convulsions through his length–weaker tremors just potent enough to coax the remainder of his orgasm up and out of his length.
Through them, the work for the rest of his frame was simplified into a series of pumps. Having already enjoyed a lifetime’s worth of stimulation in the preceding minute or so, his body wisely limited itself to a series of stabs against Ann’s face. Rather than indulge in a full-length gutting of her throat that might inspire another orgasm from his length ahead of schedule, he instead provided himself with the bare minimum amount of stimulation required for threading the remainder of his virility out into her depths.
Not to be outdone, Ann helped proceedings along in her own way.
She was far too pleased to impose herself on Inari’s expression of control at this juncture, of course. She would never admit it out loud, but her capacity for drawing this sort of behavior from a male so much younger than her was a point of pride that she refused to blot out for herself. This aside, there was no real reason for her to: without being told how, he had already provided her with everything that she desired.
As a matter of course, this narrowed her contributions down to the realm of aesthetics. For every nose-bending stroke of Inari’s hips, fattened blobs of leftover seed were splattered out against the back of her throat and the base of her tongue. Although perfectly capable of dealing with these cleanly and concisely, she repeatedly allowed a wealth of semen to build up at the back of her throat before the discharge of a particularly well-placed spurt pushed excess nut through to a compressed splatter out of her nose.
Even this was accompanied by its own contingency. To accommodate for the stupefied sex-haze that had consumed her suitor, a spray of seed out of her left nostril became her cue to begin gulping as noisily as she possibly could. Eyes focused up towards Inari’s face all the while, she worked through the payload she had been given dollop by dollop until his gaze met her own again.
To her, this was simply icing on a cake that she had baked herself.
“How adorable…”
“If that’s how he looks, I can only imagine how gross I am ♥.”
The bashful words that Ann thought out to herself were irrelevant in practice. In the confines of her apartment, what the two of them looked like no longer mattered. They could have made disgustingly slovenly messes of themselves; they could have ruined what remained of the sweat-drenched clothing suckled to their frames.
Whatever they did, it wouldn’t have mattered. Save one another, no one was present to judge them. And, as far as either was concerned, there was no more appealing a depiction of the other than the one that was directly ahead of them.
For better or for worse, though, this circumstance was not so overwhelming as to pluck the two of them out of their reality. While Inari pumped his hips back and forth like an animal to wring every last drop of seed from his length and Ann chugged the substance in as garish a manner as possible, the world around them continued to spin just as it would’ve otherwise.
Needless to say, this world remained firmly against the brand of stimulation that they had chosen to indulge in…
Comically so, and without any remorse.
“M-mou sukoshi da. It’s almost all out, oba-san. The rest of my dickjuice is going to sit inside your stomach. I’ll push it all out myself–I’ll impregnate your face, too…”
“Just keep gulping it–”
*HMMMMMM*
Though Ann’s ears were trained to the sound of Inari’s voice, the shattered vestiges of her adult maturity remained firmly affixed to the space around her. In it, the familiar hum of a smartphone vibrating against fabric caught her ears, and subsequently pricked her psyche with thoughts of necessity.
Now? What poor timing. I wonder if Inari can hear it? All of these were thoughts that surged through Ann’s head before the hidden device’s third hum could begin rumbling through the apartment.
Albeit for a split second, these thoughts pulled her eyes from off of Inari’s face and down towards the trail of clothing that the two of them had discarded on their way into the living room.
Impressively, this was all that she required to earn herself respite. Denying his instincts was no small feat, but Inari found it within himself to release the back of her skull and work the length of his shaft back through the confines of her mouth as best as he could manage.
Following the sodden *PPLLRP!* pushed between her lips as Inari’s glans escaped them, Ann resumed her existence as a responsible and wary adult…
Perhaps not conventionally, but at the very least well enough to keep the two of them out of trouble in the present.
“Ah, moshi moshi. Mayu-san desu ka? Hi, Mayu? Yes, it’s me Ann again. I’m sorry–Inari-kun put his phone down while he was helping me and forgot to pick it back up,”
“Here, I was just heading back upstairs. Let me see if I can get him on the phone for you, ok? I know he could just call you back, but he shouldn’t make his mother worry when he’s still so young–”
“There’s plenty of time for him to end up with a bad habit or two when he’s older...”
A trained actress would have struggled to replicate the smoothness of Ann’s address–much less in the same straits that she produced it. Straight after Inari slipped away from his straddle of her front, she disregarded the syrup that glued her thighs together and the semen that oozed from her nose by wobbling up to her feet. Once upright, she marched over to where his pants lay on the ground and fished out his phone before it stopped ringing.
Funnily enough, these things were far harder for her than speaking to his mother. Years ago, when only one high school was available to accommodate the town’s youth, the two of them had attended school with one another for several years. Their paths rarely crossed, but the general perception of them was more or less the same: two young women with relatively bright futures ahead of them.
One’s future had turned out slightly better than the others, however.
“...”
“Oh, here he is. Inari-kun, your mom is on the phone. You need to be more careful with your phone, ok?”
Ann’s trip up the staircase that separated her from her apartment was entirely acted. After muting the microphone of Inari’s phone, she returned to the couch surface that she had laid atop and made yet another executive decision regarding proceedings.
Below her, a sweat-drenched Inari lay with his forearm covering his eyes and a smear of her drool plastered around the lower half of his mouth. Even now, the exertion that he had imposed onto himself had reduced him to a consistent pant meant to pull lost oxygen back into his lungs–a double-edged sword if one were to consider the haze of feminine pheromones that had infected the air.
Worse still, his arousal persisted. Despite all that he had endured, a few short minutes of refractory had sufficed to restore his bee-stung erection whilst leftover seed oozed continually from the nose of his length.
The sight of these things made her feminine organs (feminine organs freshly basted with congealed semen) squirm. As if starved for the exact same contact that they enjoyed on a regular basis.
So as to placate herself, Ann chose to lay herself out beside Inari instead of handing him his phone and excusing herself.Here, she used her off hand to press the face of the device into the side of his face and pushed her dominant hand down to his crotch.
Truth be told, she was perfectly capable of waiting until they finished with their subterfuge to see about satiating herself…
Whether or not Inari was capable of the same was a risk she was not willing to take.
“Haaah….hahhh…huh?”
“Aa. Kaa-san? G-Gomen. Denwa wasureteshimatta…”
“Yeah, mom? Sorry, I forgot my phone downstairs. It’s ok since Oba-san grabbed it for me, but I’ll try to be more careful. Yeah. Y-Yeah, I know it’s expensive. I just had to put it down for a second to help her bring some groceries upstAIRS…”
“U-Upstairs.”
Inari, too, was an actor for the ages. The deep breaths that abbreviated his words clearly conveyed that something was amiss with him, but the consistency (and normalcy) of his speech made it difficult for his mother to truly question it.
In the end, it was Ann that provided her with her first opportunity to do so. Knowing full well what remained of Inari’s libido, she turned onto her side (such that the sweat-moistened pudge of her naked midsection was set to face his right side and slanted the meat of his erection towards it. Thanks to the closeness of their frames and the scale of his length, the sex-reddened cudgel's tip was delivered into an infuriatingly potent impression against her chub after the fact.
It wasn’t just any pocket of chub, however–assessed on warmth alone, it could only be the one situated atop her uterus.
That she resorted to pumping his palm along these inches whilst pushing the nose of his glans into this flesh was criminal.
*SHLP–SHLP-SHLP-SHLP…*
“O-Oh, my voice? Sorry, I’m putting away some stuff in the fridge and my hand t-touch something really cold. I think I s=spilled something else, so if you’re hearing s-somethin’...weird…”
“T-That’s probably it...”
Sussing out the true source of the noises Inari mentioned was no more difficult than listening to them. To this point, the sound of Ann’s breathing and the weariness of his voice had implied much about what was transpiring on their end of the phone. Absolute proof was missing, but as it turned out, the woman on the other end of the phone didn’t need it.
She was not shy about declaring as much, either.
“Is it really that, Inari? You’ve given me that excuse several times before, but never with such a strange voice. I know what it sounds like when you’re calm, and I know what it sounds like when you’re just trying to make yourself sound that way. I wouldn’t be your mother if I didn’t,”
“So tell me. It’s just us on the phone, so don’t worry. I-Is…”
“Sotomura-san isn’t doing anything to you, is she?
At last, things had come undone. Months of reusing the same lies had caught up to Inari in stellar fashion. His voice was caught in his throat, and his heart began to race even more sharply than it had in response to Ann’s stroking.
Everything considered, these were very significant changes. Since her tireless pumping chain began, both the remainder of his first orgasm and fresh billows of precum were worked out of his shaft and into her palm. With all of the lubrication that she required and more, the glans-focused motions she applied pushed cutting surges of stimulation through his length at a pace that forced it to begin preparing a fresh load of seed for the occasion.
As a matter of course, each stroke became sloppier and noisier than the last. Ann’s movements were no more complex than flicks of the wrist and contractions of fingers; what one might imagine for any proper stroking effort. Inexplicably, though the spread of precum between her fingers made the *SCHLK* noises produced by her pumps and their impact on his psyche louder and more guttural than ever.
They were audible, too. Without Inari’s voice to mask them, the slightest amount of concentration revealed a muffled *sclk–sclk–splrt* whose outflow was just slightly removed from the area occupied by his lips.
The knowledge that these noises were reaching his mother on the other end of the phone–on top of his perception of them and the stimulation that accompanied them–constituted torturous bliss for Inari. Consumed by it, he was left without words. Not even his anxiety regarding his mother’s silence could move him to part his lips and find some kind of excuse for her.
It was pitiable. All of the valor and ferocity he had displayed in making a mess of his muse was obliterated by the mere presence of the woman that had given birth to him.
But a saving grace remained:
What was pitiable to most was adorable to one.
“Aa, gomen, Mayu-san. I’m sorry, Mayu. It looks like Inari-kun is a little more tired from school than I thought. I did tell him that I didn’t want him to exert himself while it was still so hot, but he never listens,”
Ann could have slipped Inari’s phone from his hand to speak into it. Instead, she pushed her mouth just off to the side of his own and spoke into its microphone such that his panting would remain just barely audible.
As combined with her stroking, this gesture drove Inari to ‘correct’ the situation well before she could finish speaking.
“Don’t worry, though. I’ll let him rest and send him right back home as soon as I can. He mentioned that he had something very important he needed to speak to you about, so I’d hate for him to lose the oppor–
“Ouua♥.”
Ann’s eyes watched Inari as she spoke. Driven to the brink of another release by her stroking, he rudely separated himself from her side and rose to a position straddling her upper body all over again. Singling out her lower body just as he had an hour prior, he looped both of his forearms around her thighs and pulled both up into a vertical position that sandwiched their lust-gunked inner sides against the aching swell of his member.
With their compression, a few lurid strokes of his hips freed him from his libido. To the tune of yet another chain of guttural *BLORP* noises, another wadded flourish of the sludge that oozed from her depths even now exploded across her midsection. Beginning with a single lumpy serpent that bisected the span of her midsection right up to the beginnings of her covered cleavage, wadded spurts that maintained all of the thumb-width glut of their predecessor burst out into a lazy, crisscrossed splatter pattern that ultimately left very little flesh exposed underneath it.
A sultry yelp at the sensation was second nature for Ann. It was possible that she’d be heard, but it no longer mattered.
Her work was almost complete.
“M-My, would you look at the time! It looks like I’m getting kind of tired too–I’ll talk to you again soon, Mayu-san ♥.”
With only the edge of her hand, Ann terminated the call on Inari’s phone and allowed the device to slip out of her palm so as to direct all of her focus above her.
Now, she was more alluring than ever. Now, as a woman with pubic hair glued to the edges of her mouth by semen and sweat, drenched in her own perspiration from head to toe, and marked by juvenile semen both inside and out.