Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.5[c] Focus [vaginal, mf]

The gym pulsed with energy, but Hayao’s focus had shifted entirely to his mother, Mai. Mio’s touch, her teasing corrections, and her inviting curves were a fleeting distraction, but they paled against the dark hunger that consumed him. The stopwatch in his pocket, its weight both a promise and a curse from the goddess Benzaiten, had already claimed Mai once in her bedroom. The memory of her frozen body under his control—her full breasts yielding to his grip, her skin warm against his lips—had ignited an obsession. He wanted her again, not just as a vessel for his sadistic desires but as the ultimate conquest, the woman who had given him life. Every glance at her toned, curvy form in the gym stoked that fire.

Mio’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Hayao, focus. Keep your knees over your toes.” Her hands adjusted his squat stance again, her fingers lingering on his hips. 

Her tank top clung to her massive breasts, and her platinum hair swayed as she moved. She was a temptation, but Hayao’s mind was locked on Mai, who was now jogging on the treadmill, her blonde ponytail bouncing, her black sports bra struggling to contain her chest. The way her leggings hugged her rounded ass made his cock twitch.

“Yeah, got it,” he muttered, his tone flat. 

The trainer’s enthusiasm was wasted on him now. He went through the motions, lifting the barbell with minimal effort, his eyes tracking Mai’s every move. She caught his gaze once, her dark eyes softening with a motherly smile before she turned back to her run. That warmth, that unconditional love, twisted something inside him. He didn’t want her love—not in the way she offered it. He wanted her submission, her body, her everything.

The session dragged on, with Mio guiding him through deadlifts and bench presses. Mai rejoined them for the final stretches, her skin glistening with sweat, her breathing heavy. 

“Good work, Hayao,” she said, ruffling his dark hair. “You’re stronger than you look.” Her touch was casual, familial, but it sent a jolt through him. He forced a smile, his hand brushing the stopwatch in his pocket.

Mio clapped her hands. “Great job, both of you. Mai, you’re killing it as always. Hayao, come back anytime.” Her green eyes lingered on him, a subtle invitation, but Hayao barely nodded. 

His world had narrowed to one target.

As they left the gym, his mother didn’t bother changing, her gym clothes clinging to her damp skin. “I’ll shower at home,” she said, tossing her bag into the back of their car. “Too tired to deal with the locker room.” Hayao’s pulse spiked at the thought of her at home, vulnerable, her body exposed in the shower. The stopwatch seemed to hum in his pocket, urging him forward.

The drive back to their apartment was quiet, the city lights blurring past. Mai hummed softly, her fingers tapping the steering wheel. Hayao stared out the window, his mind racing with plans. The memory of the Kurosaki tunnel, where he’d found the stopwatch, flickered in his mind—its dark, damp walls, the eerie whisper of Benzaiten’s voice granting him power. That power had already violated Mai once, and he craved more.

When they reached their apartment, Hayao noticed Yumi’s absence immediately. Her usual clutter—textbooks, hair ties, a half-empty coffee mug—was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Yumi?” he asked, dropping his gym bag by the door.

Mai kicked off her sneakers, her movements sluggish. “She’s at a friend’s place, studying for some big exam. Won’t be back till late.” She stretched, her sports bra lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of toned midriff. “I’m hitting the shower. You good?”

“Yeah,” Hayao said, his voice steady but his heart pounding. The apartment felt too quiet, too perfect. No Yumi to interrupt, no witnesses. The stopwatch’s power called to him, and he knew what he was going to do.

Mai headed to the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door. Trusting, familial, oblivious. Hayao waited until he heard the water running, the soft hiss of the shower filling the apartment. His hand closed around the stopwatch, its cool metal grounding him. He pressed the button, and the world stilled. The sound of the shower froze, the air itself seeming to hold its breath. Time belonged to him now.

He stepped into the bathroom, the steam hanging motionless in the air. Mai stood under the showerhead, her naked body a vision of curves and strength. Her long blonde hair was slick with water, clinging to her shoulders and back. Her large breasts, heavy and full from motherhood, glistened with droplets, her nipples hard from the water’s touch. Her toned waist flared into wide hips, her ass round and firm, her thighs strong yet soft. She was frozen, her head tilted back, eyes closed, unaware of the violation about to unfold.

Hayao’s cock was already hard, straining against his gym shorts. He stripped quickly, his clothes falling to the tiled floor. His sadistic hunger roared, drowning out any flicker of guilt. This was Mai, his mother, the woman who had birthed him, and now he would claim her again, deeper, more completely. He stepped into the shower, the frozen water droplets brushing his skin like tiny, suspended jewels.

He pressed himself against her, his hands roaming her body. Her breasts were heavy in his palms, their softness yielding to his grip. He squeezed them, his thumbs circling her nipples, reveling in their texture. His cock pressed against her thigh, the heat of his arousal stark against her cool, wet skin. He slid one hand down her stomach, her skin smooth and unmarred, a testament to her disciplined gym routine. His fingers found her pussy, its soft folds slick from the shower. He parted them, exploring her, his breath ragged.

Hayao positioned himself behind her, pressing her gently against the shower wall, her breasts flattening against the tiles. Her frozen state made her pliable, her body yielding to his touch. He guided his cock to her entrance, the tip brushing her warmth. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her from behind, her tight heat enveloping him. A groan escaped his lips as he pushed deeper, her body unmoving but responsive in its own way, her muscles clenching around him instinctively.

He fucked her with a rhythm that was both reverent and savage, his hands gripping her hips, her ass pressing against his pelvis with each thrust. The sound of his skin slapping against hers echoed in the frozen silence, a perverse symphony. Her face, locked in serene unawareness, only heightened his sadistic pleasure. This was power, this was conquest—taking the woman who had given him life, defiling the sacred bond in the most intimate way.

His pace quickened, his balls tightening as he neared climax. He buried himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came, spilling his cum inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of triumph and taboo. He stayed inside her, panting, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he recovered. Her body, still frozen, held his cum, a secret mark of his dominance.

When his breathing steadied, Hayao pulled out, watching as his cum began to drip from her pussy. He spread her folds with his fingers, marveling at the sight—the place he had come from, now his to claim. The thought was intoxicating, a twisted glorification of his act. He grabbed the showerhead, its water still frozen in midair, and manipulated it to rinse her clean, the droplets resuming their fall as he directed them. He washed away his cum, erasing the evidence, though he secretly wished it could stay, wished he could impregnate her, bind her to him in the most primal way.

The thought of fucking her unfrozen, of seeing her react, her dark eyes wide with shock or desire, stirred him again. But for now, this was enough. He stepped out of the shower, drying himself quickly and dressing. He left the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and pressed the stopwatch again. Time resumed, the shower’s hiss returning, Mai’s soft hum filling the air as if nothing had happened.

Hayao retreated to his room, his body buzzing with adrenaline. He sat on his bed, the stopwatch in his hand, its power a drug he couldn’t quit. He wanted more—wanted her awake, wanted her to know it was him, to see the conflict in her eyes. But that would come later. For now, he savored the secret, the violation only he knew.

In the bathroom, Mai frowned slightly as she washed her hair. A strange soreness lingered in her vagina, a dull ache like she’d been fucked, though she couldn’t place why. She shook her head, dismissing it. “Probably the gym,” she muttered to herself. “Endorphins or something.” She finished her shower, toweling off and slipping into a loose, oversized t-shirt and shorts, her body still soft and warm from the water.

She padded to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. The hostess club didn’t need her tonight, a rare free evening, and she planned to relax. She poured a glass and settled onto the living room couch, the TV flickering to life with some mindless drama. The wine’s warmth spread through her, easing the odd ache she couldn’t explain.

Hayao emerged from his room, his expression carefully neutral. “You working tonight?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

Mai shook her head, sipping her wine. “Nope, they don’t need me. Just chilling for once.” She patted the couch beside her. “Come watch with me.”

He sat next to her, closer than usual, his thigh brushing hers. Her softness, the way her oversized t-shirt draped over her curves, was almost too much. He could still feel her under him, her body yielding to his. She smelled of soap and wine, her blonde hair loose and slightly damp. His cock stirred again, but he kept his movements slow, deliberate.

Without a word, he leaned down, resting his head in her lap. Her thighs were warm, soft, a stark contrast to the toned strength he’d felt in the shower. Mai chuckled, her hand automatically stroking his dark hair. “You’re still such a big baby,” she said, her voice dripping with affection. “Always needing your mom.”

Hayao closed his eyes, letting her touch ground him, though his mind was far from innocent. Her fingers were gentle, loving, and it twisted the knife of his desires deeper. She didn’t know what he’d done, what he planned to do. The stopwatch in his pocket was a silent accomplice, waiting for its next use.

Mai’s hand paused, her gaze drifting to his face. “You really look like your father,” she said softly, a wistful edge to her voice. “Daigo used to lie like this sometimes, just… quiet.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the memory of her late husband surfacing.

Hayao didn’t respond, but her words hit him like a spark. He looked like Daigo, the man she’d loved, the man who’d left her a widow. That resemblance was a weapon, one he could wield to get closer, to break her barriers. He stayed still, letting her stroke his hair, her softness and sorrow wrapping around him like a chain.

The TV droned on, the wine glass half-empty on the table. Mai’s hand rested on his head, her breathing steady. Hayao’s mind churned with plans, the stopwatch’s power a dark promise. He would have her again, unfrozen, aware, his mother in every way. For now, he let the moment linger, the quiet intimacy a prelude to his next move.

***

The gym session had been a catalyst, sharpening Hayao’s focus on Mai. Mio’s flirtations, her strong hands and inviting curves, had been a fleeting temptation, but they couldn’t compare to the primal pull of his mother. The stopwatch had given him a taste of absolute control, and he was addicted. The Kurosaki tunnel, Benzaiten’s gift, had changed him, twisting his sadistic urges into something unstoppable.

Back at the gym, Mai had noticed Mio’s attention to Hayao, her hands lingering too long, her smile too warm. It had sparked a possessiveness in her, a need to keep Hayao close. She’d always been protective, especially after Daigo’s death, but this felt different, sharper. She chalked it up to maternal instinct, unaware of the dark desires brewing in her son’s mind. 

As they’d worked out, Hayao had watched her every move—her squats, her stretches, the way her breasts strained against her sports bra. He’d imagined using the stopwatch right there, freezing the gym, taking her on the weight bench while Mio and the others stood frozen. The fantasy had been vivid, but he’d held back, saving his energy for home, for the moment he knew was coming.

Now, in the living room, with Mai’s hand in his hair, he felt the weight of his actions. The shower had been a violation, a secret triumph, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her to know, to feel him, to struggle or submit. The thought of her dark eyes meeting his, wide with realization, made his cock throb. He shifted slightly in her lap, masking his arousal, and let her words about his father sink in.

Mai sipped her wine, her gaze distant. “He’d be proud of you, you know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so much like him, Hayao. Stubborn, quiet… but strong in your own way.”

Hayao’s lips twitched, a faint smirk. Strong, yes, but not in the way she thought. His strength was in the stopwatch, in the power to bend time and take what he wanted. He wondered what Daigo would think of him now, defiling the woman he’d loved. The thought only fueled his sadistic pleasure, a perverse rebellion against the father he barely remembered.

The night stretched on, the TV’s glow casting shadows across the room. Mai’s hand grew still, her breathing slowing as the wine and exhaustion took hold. Hayao stayed in her lap, his head cradled by her warmth, his mind a storm of dark desires. The stopwatch waited, its power a promise of more to come. He would have her again and again.

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