Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.4 Ladies’ Toilet (I)

Hayao’s grip tightened on Yumi’s wrist. With a sharp tug, he pulled her toward the ladies’ toilet. The door creaked as they slipped inside, and the air was thick with the tang of disinfectant and a faint whiff of stale dampness, the flickering bulb overhead painting their shadows in jagged streaks across the cracked tiles.

Hayao didn’t hesitate. His hands found Yumi’s shoulders, shoving her against the cold wall with a force that made her breath catch. Her raincoat parted slightly, revealing the tight red dress beneath—provocative, clinging to her curves in a way that had already turned heads earlier. She let out a low, teasing giggle, her eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Eager, huh?” she murmured, her voice a warm taunt against his ear, her body soft and willing under his touch.

He didn’t answer. His fingers snagged her pigtails, yanking her down with a rough pull that forced her to her knees. The motion was swift, almost brutal, and she hit the tiles with a muffled thud, her hands bracing against his thighs. Looking up, her lips parted in a sly, daring smile, her tongue darting out as she steadied herself. Hayao’s hands shook with raw need as he clawed at his jeans. He presented his turgid member to her, his cock springing free—hard, throbbing, and already slick.

Grabbing her pigtails like handles, he jerked her head forward. “Take it,” he growled, voice rough and low, and thrust into her mouth without pause. 

The head of his cock hit the back of her throat, and she gagged—a wet, choking sound that bounced off the walls. Her body jolted, but her eyes snapped up to his, wide and watering, burning with a fierce, unyielding heat. Her nails dug into his legs, anchoring herself, but she didn’t pull away—she took him, every inch, her tongue swirling against him even as she struggled.

Hayao’s hips surged, driving deeper, fucking her face with a rhythm that was relentless and raw. Her lips stretched around him, spit slicking her chin, smearing her lipstick into a messy red streak. Each thrust pinned her head back against the wall. She sputtered, throat tightening, but she matched his pace—sucking, moaning, her hands sliding up, one gripping his shaft, pumping in time, the other urging him closer.

“Fuck, Yumi,” he rasped, tightening his hold, pulling her hair until her scalp must’ve stung. Tears shimmered in her eyes, makeup running, but she held his gaze—defiant, hungry, reveling in it. The pressure built, a searing knot in his core, and he lost himself in her—messy, undone, his.

His thrusts grew erratic, hips slamming forward with desperate force. She moaned around him, the vibration snapping his control. With a final, savage push, he buried himself deep, her nose pressed against him as he unraveled. A ragged groan tore from his throat, his body shaking as he spilled into her. Yumi’s eyes fluttered, her throat working to take him down, lips still moving as he rode out the aftershocks.

Breath heaving, Hayao eased back, his chest rising and falling hard. Yumi lingered on her knees a moment, lips swollen and glistening, spit and makeup streaking her face. She wiped her chin with a trembling hand, then grinned up at him—wicked, triumphant, breathless. 

The faint creak of a stall door sliced through the charged air, a sound that seemed to ripple across the tiled walls and settle into the heavy silence between Hayao and Yumi. From the shadows of the stall emerged a young girl, her white summer sailor uniform clinging lightly to her frame, the crisp fabric a stark contrast to the flushed heat blooming across her cheeks. Her eyes, wide and glistening with a mix of shock and excitement, locked onto the scene before her—an erotic tableau that held her captive the moment she stepped into view. The very young girl stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight of Hayao and Yumi, the air thick with unspoken desire.

Yumi’s lips parted in a silent gasp, her mouth forming a perfect, wide O as she registered the newcomer’s presence. Her body, pressed close to Hayao’s, tensed for a fleeting moment, but she said nothing, her silence a testament to the dynamic that had already unfolded between them. 

The pretty intruder stammered, her voice trembling with a nervous edge as she began to apologize profusely. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt—please, I’ll just—” Her words tumbled over each other, a frantic attempt to excuse herself, but they faltered as Hayao turned his head toward her, his lips curling into a wicked, predatory grin that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

“No need to apologize,” he said, his voice low and smooth, dripping with a confidence that bordered on menace. He stepped slightly away from Yumi, his hand still resting possessively on her hip as he gestured toward her with a casual flick of his wrist. 

“This is my sister, Yumi.” His grin widened, the gleam in his eyes sharpening as he took in the young girl’s flustered reaction. Yumi remained silent, her gaze flickering briefly to the girl before dropping to the floor, her body still poised in quiet submission. Hayao tilted his head, his stare unwavering as he continued, “And you are…?”

The girl swallowed hard, her hands twisting nervously at the hem of her skirt. “M-Manami,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking her name aloud might anchor her to this surreal moment. 

Hayao’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze drifting over her uniform—the pristine white blouse, the navy tie, the pleated skirt that swayed just above her knees. 

Manami was a slender, delicate girl, her petite frame trembling faintly as she hovered near the sink. Her face was flushed a deep crimson, the color clashing with the pale dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her wide, doe-like eyes flickered with a mix of fear, curiosity, and something unspoken as they darted between Hayao and the scene she had unwittingly stumbled upon. Her white sailor uniform—crisp yet slightly wrinkled from a day of classes—clung to her fragile form, accentuating the subtle swell of her small breasts and the narrowness of her waist. Fingers trembling, her knuckles were almost as she struggled to process the raw, primal energy of the moment.

“Shirayuri Jogakuin, huh?” he mused, recognizing the emblem stitched into the fabric, the mark of an all-girls school known for its prim reputation. “You go there?” the girl nodded weakly, her face burning hotter under his scrutiny, her affirmation more a reflex than a conscious response.

Hayao chuckled, a dark, throaty звук that reverberated off the walls, filling the space with an electric tension. 

“Well, Manami,” he drawled, his tone laced with invitation, “you don’t have to run off. Why don’t you stay? Watch me fuck Yumi. You might enjoy it.” He didn’t wait for her to process the words fully before turning back to Yumi, his hands already moving with purpose. 

The young, pretty girl didn’t protest; she simply nodded, her face a vivid shade of crimson, her eyes betraying the lust that pulsed beneath her embarrassment. She stepped closer, her movements hesitant but deliberate, drawn in by the raw magnetism of the scene unfolding before her.

Yumi, still wordless, shrugged off her coat with a slow, deliberate motion, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. She turned to face the wall, her palms pressing flat against the cool tiles as she bent forward, her posture provocative and unashamed. The curve of her spine arched invitingly, her hips tilting upward as she offered herself to Hayao’s command. He stepped behind her, his fingers brushing against the edge of her skirt before he lifted it with a swift, practiced motion. The fabric bunched around her waist, revealing the smooth expanse of her skin—and the absence of any underwear. Hayao’s breath hitched audibly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he took in the sight of her shaved pussy, glistening faintly in the dim light of the restroom.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with arousal as he slid a hand along her thigh. He gripped her leg gently at first, then with more force, lifting it high and hooking it over his arm to spread her open. The angle was deliberate, calculated to give Manami an unobstructed view of Yumi’s exposed flesh, slick and ready for him. Yumi’s fingers curled against the wall, her nails scraping faintly against the tiles as she steadied herself, her silence now a canvas for the soft, involuntary gasps that escaped her lips. Hayao glanced over his shoulder at Manami, his grin sharpening as he caught her staring, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes locked on the intimate display.

“See that?” he said, his voice a taunting whisper as he positioned himself behind Yumi, his free hand guiding his cock to her entrance. “She’s dripping for me.” 

He pressed forward slowly, the head of his cock slipping past her folds with a slick, deliberate ease that drew a stifled moan from Yumi’s throat. Her body rocked slightly against the wall, her leg trembling in his grasp as he pushed deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried fully inside her. The air grew heavy with the sound of their breathing—Hayao’s steady and controlled, Yumi’s ragged and quiet, and Manami’s quick, shallow gasps as she watched, transfixed.

Hayao began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, punishing rhythm that made Yumi’s body shudder with each thrust. The wet slap of skin against skin echoed in the confined space, mingling with the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant drip of a faucet somewhere in the background. He kept Yumi’s leg raised, his fingers digging into her thigh as he angled himself to hit deeper, harder, each motion designed to draw out the pleasure that flickered across her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting wider as her breaths came in sharp, staccato bursts, though she still didn’t speak, her silence a stark contrast to the intensity of her body’s response.

Manami shifted closer, her feet scuffing softly against the floor as she leaned against the sink, her hands gripping the edge for support. Her face was a mask of flushed desire, her lips slightly parted as she watched Hayao’s cock slide in and out of Yumi, the slick sheen of arousal coating them both. Her breath hitched audibly when Hayao sped up, his movements growing more forceful, the sound of his hips slamming against Yumi’s ass reverberating through the room. 

Yumi let out passionate moans.

“You like this, don’t you?” he said, his voice cutting through the haze as he glanced at Manami again, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. She nodded mutely, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her body trembling with the effort of staying still.

Yumi’s hands slid down the wall slightly, her palms slick with sweat as she braced herself against Hayao’s relentless pace. Her leg quivered in his grip, the muscles tensing with each deep thrust, and her head tipped forward, strands of hair falling into her face as she surrendered to the sensation. Hayao’s free hand roamed up her back, his fingers tracing the line of her spine before tangling in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose the taut curve of her neck. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he murmured something too low for Manami to hear, though the way Yumi’s body arched in response told its own story.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, the faint tang of it mingling with the sterile bite of the toilet’s lingering cleaner. Manami’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the sink tighter, her thighs pressing together instinctively as she watched Hayao’s cock disappear into Yumi again and again, each thrust punctuated by a soft, wet sound that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heartbeat. Hayao’s grin never faltered, his eyes flicking between Yumi’s trembling form and Manami’s enraptured expression, feeding off the power he held over them both.

He slowed his pace abruptly, drawing a frustrated whimper from Yumi as he pulled almost entirely out, leaving just the tip of his cock teasing her entrance. 

“Not yet,” he said, his voice a low taunt as he glanced at Manami. “Gotta make it last for our guest.” He thrust back in sharply, a single, deep motion that made Yumi’s knees buckle slightly, her hands scrambling for purchase against the wall. Manami gasped, her own body jolting as if she’d felt the impact herself, her eyes wide and unblinking as she drank in every detail—the way Yumi’s pussy stretched around Hayao, the faint tremble in her raised leg, the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.

Hayao’s rhythm built again, slow at first, then faster, his hips snapping forward with a precision that drove Yumi’s breaths into desperate, keening pants. Her silence broke in fragments—soft moans and gasps that spilled from her lips as her body rocked against the wall, her fingers curling into fists against the tiles. Hayao’s hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back further as he fucked her harder, his own breaths growing ragged with the effort. 

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. “Let her hear you.”

Manami’s chest heaved, her face flushed a deep scarlet as she watched Yumi unravel, the sounds of her pleasure mingling with the slick, rhythmic thrusts of Hayao’s cock. The girl’s hands twitched at her sides, as if she wanted to reach out, to touch, but she held herself back, her body rigid with the tension of her own arousal. Hayao noticed, his grin twisting into something darker as he adjusted his grip on Yumi’s leg, spreading her wider, giving Manami an even clearer view of the way he claimed her.

The pace quickened again, Hayao’s thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release, his fingers digging into his sister’s thigh hard enough to leave marks. The seductive girl’s moans grew louder, more urgent, her body trembling violently as she teetered on the edge, her pussy clenching around him with each punishing stroke. Manami’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, her eyes darting between Yumi’s flushed face and the glistening juncture where Hayao’s cock drove into her, the sight pushing her own desire to a fever pitch.

With a final, brutal thrust, Hayao buried himself deep, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he came, his hips grinding against Yumi’s ass as he spilled inside her. Yumi’s body convulsed, a choked cry escaping her as her own orgasm ripped through her, her leg shaking uncontrollably in his grasp. Her hands slid down the wall, her nails scraping the tiles as she slumped forward, panting heavily, her silence shattered by the raw intensity of her release.

Hayao pulled out slowly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he lowered Yumi’s leg, letting her slump against the wall, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. He turned to Manami, his eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and challenge as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. 

“Well?” he said, his voice still rough with exertion. “Worth staying for?”

The young girl nodded, her face still burning, her hands trembling as she pushed herself away from the sink. She didn’t trust herself to speak, her throat tight with the weight of what she’d witnessed, but her eyes—dark and dilated with lust—said everything Hayao needed to know. The air hung heavy between them, thick with the aftershocks of pleasure and the unspoken promise of more, as Yumi’s soft, uneven breaths filled the silence, her body still pressed against the wall in quiet, sated surrender.

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