Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.5[c] Seduction [oral, MF]

Hayao’s use of the stopwatch had become a daily ritual, a dark sacrament that deepened his obsession with his mother, Mai. Each encounter was a plunge into the abyss of his desires, a twisted dance of power and lust that left him craving more. The first instance came the morning after their gym session, a day that marked the beginning of his relentless pursuit. Mai was in the kitchen, the heart of their home, preparing breakfast with the grace of years spent nurturing her family. Her blonde hair, dyed to a golden sheen, was tied in a loose bun, stray strands clinging to her neck, damp with the morning’s warmth. She wore a silk robe, its smooth fabric clinging to her skin, outlining her voluptuous curves—her large breasts, her toned waist, her wide hips. The robe was tied loosely at the waist with a satin belt, hinting at the sexy lingerie she wore underneath, a habit from her days as a hostess, making her feel desired even in the privacy of their home. The sight was a trigger for Hayao’s perverse hunger, his cock hardening instantly as he watched from the doorway.

He felt the stopwatch in his pocket, its cool metal a constant reminder of the power granted by the goddess Benzaiten. With a deep breath, he pressed the button, and the world stilled. The clatter of pans, the hum of the refrigerator, the distant chirping of birds—all fell silent. Mai stood frozen, a statue of maternal beauty, her hand poised over a cutting board, a knife glinting in midair. Hayao approached, his heart pounding, his eyes drinking in every detail of her body. He lifted the hem of her robe, revealing delicate lace panties, white and sheer, contrasting with her skin, and a matching bra that barely contained her heavy breasts. He pulled the panties down to her thighs, exposing her perfect ass, round and firm, begging to be touched. His hands roamed over her cheeks, squeezing their softness, his fingers digging into her flesh, leaving faint imprints that would vanish when time resumed.

Hayao unbuckled his pants, freeing his throbbing cock, the head glistening with precum. He positioned himself behind her, the tip brushing against her pussy, warm and inviting despite her frozen state. With a rough thrust, he entered her, her tight heat enveloping him, a groan escaping his lips as he pushed deeper. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, a silent response to his invasion. He fucked her hard, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her onto him with each stroke. The kitchen, once a place of warmth and care, became a stage for his depravity, the sound of his flesh slapping against hers echoing in the frozen silence. Mai’s face remained serene, her eyes closed, oblivious to the violation, and that ignorance only heightened his sadistic pleasure. He came with a shudder, his cum flooding her insides, a secret mark of his dominance. He stayed inside her, panting, his forehead resting against her back, savoring the moment.

When his breathing steadied, he pulled out, watching his cum drip from her pussy, a sight that sent a thrill through him. He grabbed a damp cloth from the counter, cleaning her meticulously, ensuring no trace remained. He adjusted her panties and robe, positioning her exactly as she had been, and pressed the stopwatch. Time resumed, the kitchen coming alive with sound. Mai continued chopping vegetables, pausing briefly to frown, a hand brushing her thigh as a sudden discomfort registered. Her pussy ached, a dull throb she couldn’t explain, and she shifted her weight, trying to ease it. “Must be from the gym,” she muttered, shaking her head, and resumed her task, unaware of the violation that had just occurred.

That evening, Hayao struck again, his hunger unquenched. Mai was in her bedroom, fresh from a shower, her skin glistening with droplets, her towel discarded on the floor. The air was thick with the floral scent of her shampoo, a heady mix that fueled his arousal. He pressed the stopwatch, freezing time, and slipped into her room, his eyes locked on her naked body. Her large breasts hung heavy, nipples erect from the cool air, her toned stomach smooth and unmarred, leading to the trimmed patch of hair between her legs. He laid her gently on the bed, spreading her thighs, her pussy exposed and vulnerable. Kneeling between her legs, he buried his face in her folds, his tongue lapping at her sweetness, the musky taste intoxicating. He sucked her clit, his fingers exploring her depths, feeling the warmth and wetness that his actions induced, even in her frozen state.

His cock ached, demanding release. He stood, positioning himself over her, guiding his erection to her entrance. He entered her slowly, savoring the tightness, the way her pussy gripped him. Then, he thrust deep, his hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, leaving marks that would fade before time resumed. He fucked her with a passion that bordered on reverence, his eyes locked on her serene face, her lips parted slightly, unaware of the assault. When he came, it was with a shuddering intensity, his cum filling her, a secret deposit that only he knew about. He withdrew, cleaning her with the towel, wrapping it around her as it had been, and unfroze time. Mai blinked, a shiver running through her as if from a draft. She felt a strange fullness in her core, a fleeting ache that dissipated quickly, leaving her puzzled. She continued dressing, pulling on her nightgown, her mind grappling with the sensation, dismissing it as a trick of her body.

The next day, Hayao found Mai napping on the living room couch, her oversized t-shirt riding up to reveal her smooth thighs, a hint of her lace panties peeking out, the same ones she wore to feel sexy, even in repose. The sight was too tempting to resist. He pressed the stopwatch, and time stopped, the TV’s sound cutting off mid-sentence, the room falling into silence. He knelt beside her, rolling her onto her back, her legs parting slightly. He pulled her t-shirt up, exposing her breasts, their weight inviting his touch. His hands cupped them, feeling their softness, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, which hardened instantly. He leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, eliciting a subtle flush in her frozen skin.

Hayao’s cock was painfully hard, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled her panties aside, revealing her pussy, already glistening with arousal. He licked her clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, then delved deeper, tasting her essence. The act was a prelude to his true desire. He positioned himself between her legs, guiding his cock into her, her tightness gripping him as he thrust deep. He fucked her with abandon, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her onto him with each stroke. The couch creaked under them, but in the frozen time, the sound was muffled. He came quickly, his cum spurting into her, filling her once more. He stayed inside her, catching his breath, then withdrew, using a tissue to clean her, adjusting her clothes, and unfroze time. Mai stirred, her hand brushing her thigh, feeling a dampness that confused her. She sat up, looking around, but saw nothing amiss. The TV played on, and she settled back, her pussy tingling with an unexplained arousal.

These acts, repeated over days, were a perverse symphony of control, each one pushing Hayao deeper into his obsession. His sadistic pleasure grew with each violation, his cock throbbing at the thought of Mai’s obliviousness. He cleaned her meticulously each time, erasing his cum but not the mark on her body’s memory. The stopwatch was his god, Benzaiten’s gift a curse that bound him to this path. Each encounter was a ritual, a defilement of the sacred bond between mother and son, and he reveled in it, his desire for Mai growing more intense with each act.

Mai’s body began to rebel against her ignorance, a silent mutiny that left her trembling with need. Each morning, she awoke to a wetness between her legs, her panties soaked, her dreams a haze of erotic images that slipped away upon waking. Her pussy felt tender, as if it had been used, her clit hypersensitive, her nipples aching at the slightest brush of fabric. She tried to dismiss it as the result of intense workouts or hormonal shifts, but the sensations were too persistent, too real. She took a week off from the hostess club, telling her boss she needed rest, hoping solitude would calm her body. But at home, Hayao’s presence was inescapable, a constant, unsettling force that set her nerves alight.

His dark hair, his sharp features, his quiet intensity—so like Daigo’s—stirred a deep, forbidden longing in her. When he brushed past her in the hallway, his arm grazing her breast, a jolt of electricity shot through her, leaving her breathless. She found herself leaning into his touch, craving more, even as her mind screamed that it was wrong. In the evenings, when they watched TV together, his proximity was torture. His scent—masculine, familiar—filled her senses, making her nipples harden, her pussy throb. She noticed his body more—the lean strength in his arms, the way his jeans hugged his hips, the bulge that sometimes appeared, betraying his own arousal. Her body seemed to know him, craving his touch, though her mind recoiled at the thought.

Mai’s work as a hostess had desensitized her to male desire, but this was different. Her clients were strangers, their touches transactional, a means to an end. Hayao was her son, her flesh and blood, and yet her body responded to him as if he were a lover. She caught herself staring at him, her gaze lingering on his lips, his hands, imagining them on her skin, caressing her breasts, sliding between her legs. The thoughts were perverse, unthinkable, and she berated herself, but the heat between her legs was relentless, a fire she couldn’t quench. She began to avoid him, staying in her room, but the walls of the apartment were thin, and his presence was always there, just beyond the door. Her dreams grew more vivid, filled with images of a man’s hands on her, his cock inside her, and though she couldn’t see his face, she woke with a sense that it was Hayao, her heart pounding with guilt and desire.

The guilt was a tidal wave, crashing over her each time she felt that forbidden pull. She was his mother, meant to protect him, to guide him, not to lust after him. Yet her body betrayed her, her pussy clenching at the sight of him, her nipples aching for his touch. She tried to distract herself with chores, with TV, with wine, but nothing dulled the need. She wondered if her loneliness since Daigo’s death had twisted her desires, or if something deeper, more primal, was at play. Her body seemed to recognize Hayao’s touch, as if it knew what her mind refused to acknowledge.

By the fourth evening, the tension was palpable, a live wire humming between them. Mai and Hayao sat on the couch, watching a romantic drama, the TV’s glow casting shadows across the room. Mai wore a loose t-shirt and shorts, her legs curled under her, her blonde hair loose, brushing her shoulders. Underneath, she wore a black lace bra and matching panties, a garter belt clipped to sheer stockings, a secret indulgence that made her feel sexy even at home. Hayao sat close, his thigh brushing hers, his presence electric. Mai tried to focus on the movie, but her body was alive, her pussy wet, her nipples hard under her shirt. The air felt charged, her skin prickling with awareness of him.

Then, she saw it—the bulge in Hayao’s pants, his cock straining against the fabric, a thick, unmistakable outline. Her breath caught, her eyes darting away, but the image burned into her mind, sending a surge of desire through her. Her clit throbbed, her pussy clenching, and she shifted, trying to ignore the heat pooling between her legs. She felt exposed, her shorts too short, her t-shirt too thin, as if he could see the arousal written on her body. After a moment, unable to resist, she spoke, her voice teasing to mask her turmoil. “Hayao, where’d that come from?”

Hayao smirked, his dark eyes meeting hers, bold and unyielding. “From you, Mom. You walk around in those tight clothes, it’s hard not to notice.”

Mai laughed, though her heart pounded, her pulse racing in her throat. “I’m your mother, Hayao. You shouldn’t be looking at me like that.” Her words felt hollow, her body betraying her with every pulse of arousal, her pussy soaking her panties, her nipples aching against the fabric of her shirt.

Hayao leaned closer, his hand resting on her thigh, his touch sending a jolt through her, straight to her core. “Maybe I can’t help it,” he said, his voice low, husky, a challenge in his eyes. “Maybe I need some help with this.” He pointed to his cock, the bulge even more pronounced, his gaze unwavering.

Mai bit her bottom lip, her mind a storm of conflict. This was wrong, taboo, unthinkable. But her pussy was soaked, her body screaming for release, her clit pulsing with need. She thought of her hostess work, how she spread her legs for clients, their cocks in her hands or mouth for money, their touches leaving her cold. If she could do that, why not help her son, who looked so desperate, his cock throbbing with need? It was just physical, she told herself, a way to ease his pain until he found a girlfriend. The rationalization was flimsy, but it was all she had to cling to against the tide of her desire.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible. “But only with my hands, and only until you get a girlfriend at university.” She said it firmly, setting boundaries, though her resolve was crumbling, her body already surrendering to the heat coursing through her.

Hayao nodded, his eyes gleaming with triumph, a predator sensing victory. He stood, pulling down his pants, his cock springing free, thick and veined, the head glistening with precum. Mai’s breath hitched—it looked so much like Daigo’s, the memory flooding her with heat, her pussy clenching at the sight. She reached out, her hand wrapping around his shaft, warm and firm under her fingers. She stroked him slowly, her eyes on his face, watching his pleasure, his lips parting in a soft groan.

The act was electric, her hand moving with a rhythm honed by years of pleasing men, but this was different, intimate, forbidden. Hayao’s cock pulsed in her grip, hot and alive, and Mai felt a surge of power, knowing she was the cause of his pleasure. Her own arousal built, her pussy throbbing, her nipples aching, and she pressed her thighs together, trying to quell the need. She couldn’t help but compare Hayao’s cock to Daigo’s—the same length, the same girth, the same pulsing heat that had once filled her with love. She wondered, shamefully, how it would feel inside her, stretching her, filling her, claiming her in a way his father once had. The thought was perverse, and she pushed it away, horrified, but it lingered, a dark whisper in her mind.

Hayao noticed her flushed cheeks, her quickened breath, the lust in her eyes as she stared at his cock. “Mom,” he said, his voice husky, dripping with suggestion, “if you want, you can use your mouth. It’ll be faster.”

Mai froze, her hand pausing, her heart pounding so loudly she thought it might burst. The suggestion was obscene, a line she hadn’t dared imagine crossing. But her body responded, her mouth watering, her clit pulsing with a need so intense it drowned out her reason. She was in a trance, her inhibitions shattered by days of unexplained arousal, her body conditioned to crave him. She slid off the couch, kneeling between his legs, her dark eyes meeting his, wide with a mix of fear and desire. Then, she leaned forward, taking his cock into her mouth.

The taste was intoxicating—salty, musky, alive, a forbidden elixir that sent a shiver down her spine. She moaned around him, her tongue swirling over the head, tasting the bead of precum, her lips sliding down his shaft, taking him deeper. Hayao’s hands tangled in her hair, guiding her, his groans filling the room, a sound that made her pussy clench, her juices soaking her shorts. Her hand slipped between her legs, finding her clit through the fabric, rubbing frantically, her fingers slick with her own arousal. She sucked him with a desperate hunger, her mouth working his cock, her tongue tracing every vein, her lips tight around him.

The room echoed with their sounds—Hayao’s moans, Mai’s muffled cries, the wet slurp of her mouth. Her fingers moved faster, circling her clit, dipping into her pussy, the pleasure building to a crescendo. Hayao’s cock twitched, his balls tightening, and with a guttural cry, he came, his cum flooding her mouth, hot and thick, spilling down her throat. Mai swallowed, the act triggering her own orgasm, her fingers pressing hard against her clit, her body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over her, her pussy pulsing with release.

As the ecstasy faded, reality slammed into Mai like a cold wave. She pulled back, wiping her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. She had sucked her son’s cock, swallowed his cum, orgasmed to his pleasure. The guilt was crushing, a weight that threatened to suffocate her. 

She stood, her legs trembling, her voice breaking as she stammered, “I… I need to go.” She fled to her room, slamming the door, her heart pounding, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

In her room, Mai collapsed onto her bed, her face buried in the pillow, tears stinging her eyes. Shame washed over her, a tidal wave of guilt that drowned her senses. She had crossed a line, violated the sacred bond between parent and child, defiling the memory of Daigo. But her pussy was still hot, her body craving more, Hayao’s taste lingering on her tongue, his cock imprinted in her mind. She tried to banish the thoughts, but they returned, her fingers itching to touch herself, to chase that forbidden pleasure again. She curled into a ball, her body a battleground of desire and remorse, her mind torn between the love she felt for her son and the lust that threatened to consume her.

In the living room, Hayao sat back, a satisfied smile on his face. The stopwatch had primed her, conditioned her body to crave him, but her willing participation was a new frontier, a victory that tasted sweeter than any frozen conquest. Her shame was a crack in her armor, one he could exploit, a path to breaking her completely. 

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