Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Sexual Entrepreneur [Ending]

The two siblings chased every chance they got to fuck each other’s brains out. 

One day, in Yumi’s bedroom, door bolted, he pinned her wrists above her head, fucking her hard while his hand clamped over her mouth to silence her moans. The constant threat of Mai walking in only fueled them, each thrust laced with the thrill of getting caught.

One night, with their mother was asleep, Hayao crept into Yumi’s room. Without a word, he flipped her onto her stomach, jerked her hips up, and slammed into her from behind. She buried her face in the pillow, biting down as he fucked her with fierce, unrelenting rhythm, his fingers bruising her skin. The bed shook, springs creaking, but they didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—until they collapsed, sweaty and spent. 

“You’re getting good at this,” Yumi whispered, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Their hunger only grew. In the kitchen, while Mai was out shopping, he bent her over the counter, her skirt flipped up as he took her hard, her nails scraping the surface. In the shower, steam cloaking them, he pressed her against the tiles, water streaming over her curves as he thrust into her, their bodies slick and frenzied. Yumi loved his roughness—the way he manhandled her, growling commands in her ear. Hayao couldn’t get enough of her fight—her nails raking his back, her taunting laughs daring him to go harder.

Yet amid the fire, there were softer moments. After the chaos, they’d lie tangled in her bed, her head on his chest, their breathing synced. They never spoke of what it was, never defined it. It was enough to feel it.

***

Hayao stood beneath the bright lights of the auditorium, his high school diploma clutched in his hand. At eighteen, he was a graduate, a young man on the cusp of a new chapter. The crowd’s applause echoed around him, but it felt hollow. University loomed ahead, a prestigious institution where he’d study Business Administration—a practical choice, his parents had said. Yet, as he waved to the sea of faces, his heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts drifted to Yumi and the secret they shared—a bond that defied norms and set his pulse racing.

That night, Hayao slipped into Yumi’s room. She lounged on her bed, her dark hair spilling over the pillows, her body a tantalizing curve beneath a thin tank top. Their relationship had long since crossed into forbidden territory, a wildfire of desire that neither could extinguish. 

Yumi’s eyes met his, a spark of mischief igniting as she murmured, “Let’s make tonight special.” Her voice was a siren’s call, and Hayao was helpless to resist.

They stole into the night, the cool air prickling their skin as they headed to the park—a place Yumi loved for its danger. In an empty car park, hidden from prying eyes, they surrendered to their hunger. Yumi’s hands roamed his chest, tugging his shirt aside as she pressed herself against him. Hayao pinned her to a wall, his lips crashing into hers, their kisses bruising and desperate. Her skirt hiked up, revealing lace that barely contained her, and Hayao’s fingers slipped beneath, finding her wet and ready. She gasped as he entered her, his thrusts hard and fast, the bark digging into her back as she clung to him. The thrill of exposure fueled them, her muffled cries swallowed by the night as they came together in a shuddering climax.

Months passed, and Hayao settled into university life—or tried to. Business Administration was a grind, a maze of dry lectures and endless spreadsheets that left him cold. He excelled, but it was mechanical, devoid of the passion that burned when he was with Yumi. Their escapades grew bolder—fucking in alleyways, behind library stacks, even once in a campus bathroom, her legs wrapped around him as water hissed from a nearby faucet. Yumi thrived on the risk, her exhibitionist streak a drug that kept them both addicted.

One afternoon, slumped in a lecture hall, Hayao’s mind wandered from profit margins to Yumi’s latest fantasy: a train station at dusk, commuters oblivious as she whispered filthy promises in his ear. Then it hit him—a way to channel her cravings and his skills. What if they turned her performances into a business? A sexual streaming service, legal and lucrative, where Yumi could shine and he could escape the monotony of his degree.

That evening, he laid it out for her. “We could stream you,” he said, leaning across her bed. “Sell videos. Use my business know-how to make it big. You’d call the shots.” 

Yumi’s lips curved into a grin, her eyes alight with excitement. “You’re a genius,” she purred, already imagining it. 

They named it ErosLive, and Hayao threw himself into the logistics—building a platform, securing payments, ensuring every step was consensual and above board. Yumi was the star, her confidence magnetic as she stripped for the camera, her first solo stream raking in subscribers by the dozens.

Their next leap came naturally. Hayao invited Aiko, his junior with a rebellious streak, to join them. He’d first noticed her in art club, drawn to the bold, unfiltered energy of her sketches, which mirrored her vibrant personality. With dyed green hair, slender figure, and matching contact lenses, she stood out effortlessly. Over coffee, he pitched the idea. Aiko agreed, intrigued and excited. Their first shoot together crackled with energy.

In a rented studio, the air hummed with anticipation. Yumi reclined on silk sheets, her robe slipping to reveal smooth skin, while Hayao’s junior hesitated by the bed, her dress clinging to her frame. 

“Come here,” Yumi coaxed, pulling her close. 

Their kiss started soft, then deepened, tongues tangling as Hayao filmed, his cock straining against his jeans. Clothes hit the floor, and Yumi took charge, her fingers teasing Aiko’s breasts, her mouth trailing lower. The young girl moaned, her shyness evaporating as she arched into Yumi’s touch. Hayao joined them, his hands roaming, his lips on Yumi’s neck as she straddled him. Aiko climbed atop his face, her thighs trembling as he devoured her, the room filling with gasps and slick, wet sounds. Yumi rode him hard, her hips slamming down, breasts bouncing as she chased her peak. The camera captured it all—the sweat, the shudders, the raw, unscripted lust as they collapsed in a heap, spent and grinning.

ErosLive grew, and so did their repertoire. One night, they filmed in the university library, a reckless thrill that pushed every boundary. Hayao led Yumi through the stacks, the scent of old books thick around them. She carried a hidden camera, its red light winking as he shoved her against a shelf. Her skirt lifted, panties yanked aside, and he thrust into her, his cock filling her tight heat. 

“Quiet,” he growled, though his own control was slipping. Yumi bit her lip, her body rocking with each brutal stroke, the shelf creaking under their weight. She clawed at him, urging him deeper, her whispered “harder” driving him wild. They fucked like animals, the risk of footsteps echoing nearby only spurring them on. When they came, it was explosive, her legs shaking as he held her up, the footage a goldmine for their fans.

Aiko became a regular, her playful energy balancing Yumi’s intensity. In another shoot, they staged a threesome in a faux classroom, desks shoved aside. Yumi bent over one, Hayao pounding into her from behind, his hands gripping her hips as she moaned his name. Aiko knelt beneath, her tongue flicking against Yumi’s clit, then switching to tease Hayao’s balls, her fingers slipping inside herself. The air was thick with heat, their bodies slick with sweat, every thrust and lick a crescendo of pleasure. The video broke records, and their subscribers hooked on the raw chemistry.

As Hayao neared graduation, ErosLive was a triumph. He’d turned his degree into something real, a business born of desire and defiance. Yumi remained his muse, their bond unshakable despite the doubts that crept in. 

“Are we crazy?” she asked one night, nestled against him after a shoot. “Maybe,” he replied, kissing her hair. “But it’s our crazy.”

On graduation night, they celebrated alone, the camera rolling for their most intimate stream yet. Yumi rode him slow and deep, her eyes locked on his, every movement a testament to their journey. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice breaking as they came together, a quiet, powerful release.

***

Requests for Aiko to perform anal poured in constantly from their subscribers. But the girl had always refused—firmly, unapologetically—calling the act dirty and disgusting. Until now, Hayao had respected her boundaries. But the power of the stopwatch would not be denied. With a low whisper, he shared his twisted plan with his sister, who nodded in grim agreement. This time, they would break Aiko.

He could ignore the wishes of the masses no longer.

The room was shrouded in a haze of dim light, the soft glow of recessed bulbs casting long shadows across the room. A faint hum emanated from the camera perched on its tripod, its lens trained unblinkingly on the bed at the center of the space, livestreaming every second to an unseen audience. The air hung heavy with anticipation, thick and warm, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath..

Near the bed, Hayao’s sister moved with a predator’s grace, her curvaceous silhouette cutting through the shadows. Her dark eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and command as she tightened the silk ties around the slender girl’s wrists, securing them to the wrought-iron headboard. The pretty Aiko lay sprawled beneath her, blindfolded with a strip of black satin, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven bursts. Her skin prickled with a nervous energy, a cocktail of curiosity and dread rippling through her as the binds bit gently into her flesh. She tugged lightly against them, testing their hold, her lips parting in a soft exhale.

“Relax,” Yumi purred, her voice smooth as velvet, a seductive thread woven with an edge of danger. She traced a finger down Aiko’s cheek, the touch feather-light yet possessive, sending a shiver through the bound girl. “You’re going to love this.” The words lingered, heavy with intent, and Aiko’s pulse thudded louder in her ears, her blindfolded world amplifying every sound, every sensation.

Hayao stepped away from the camera, his shadow stretching across the floor as he approached the bedside table. He reached for a bottle of lubricant, its cap clicking open with a sharp snap that made Aiko flinch. Pouring a generous amount into his palm, he worked the slick liquid over his cock, his movements slow and deliberate. The lube glistened under the dim light, coating him thoroughly, each stroke a meticulous preparation that underscored the gravity of what was to come. His breath hitched slightly, his arousal evident in the tightening of his grip, his gaze flickering between Aiko’s trembling form and the camera’s relentless stare.

He climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight as he settled behind Aiko. His hands, warm and calloused, found her hips, guiding her with a firmness that left no room for hesitation. He parted her buttocks with a rougher touch, his fingers pressing into the soft skin before lingering at her tight, untouched entrance. Aiko jolted at the contact, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat, her body tensing instinctively against the intrusion.

“Please… stop,” she whimpered pathetically.

Hayao pressed the tip of his lubed cock against her, the cool slickness a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. Aiko’s breath caught, her muscles clenching in reflexive resistance, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she shifted beneath him. The pressure was unyielding, a forceful probe that tested her limits, sparking a flicker of pain that bloomed into a searing ache.

As Hayao pushed forward, the stretch intensified, a burning sensation radiating through Aiko’s body. She cried out sharply, her voice breaking through the room, raw and unfiltered. 

“Stop, Hayao! It hurts too much!” Her plea hung in the air, her body arching in protest, the discomfort exploding into a jagged, unrelenting pain that clawed at her senses. 

She squirmed beneath him, her hips twitching as if to escape, but the ties held her fast, leaving her vulnerable.

Yumi’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a brief moment of hesitation, but Hayao’s gaze was locked on Aiko, his jaw clenched. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “You can take it,” he growled, his voice a low, commanding rumble. “Just breathe through it.” 

His hands gripped the poor girl’s hips tighter, holding her steady as he pushed deeper, ignoring her plea, his movements rough and unyielding.

The small girl’s cries sharpened, her voice breaking as the pain surged with each inch he claimed. Her muscles spasmed, clenching around him in a futile attempt to resist, but Hayao’s rhythm was relentless, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent. The friction was brutal, the lube barely easing the raw, invasive stretch that tore through her. Her body trembled violently, sweat beading on her skin as she fought to endure the onslaught.

Yumi moved swiftly, her lips descending to capture Aiko’s in a kiss that was fierce and consuming. The suddenness of it swallowed Aiko’s scream, her muffled protests lost in the heat of Yumi’s mouth. Their tongues tangled, Yumi’s dominance overwhelming, pulling the slender girl’s focus from the agony ripping through her core. Aiko’s bound hands strained against the silk, her chest heaving as she struggled to anchor herself amidst the storm of sensations.

Hayao’s pace quickened, his thrusts brutal and unforgiving, each one sending a jolt of pain through Aiko’s body. The tightness of her ass gripped him like a vice, the friction a heady mix of pleasure and resistance that drove him deeper into his own lust. The stopwatch pulsed harder against his chest, its glow flaring with each brutal stroke, feeding off the chaos unfolding on the bed.

Aiko’s discomfort was palpable, her whimpers vibrating against Yumi’s lips, her body a battlefield of conflicting sensations. The pain was relentless, a constant, gnawing ache that refused to dull, her every squirm a testament to the struggle within her. Yet, beneath the agony, a strange, twisted heat began to coil—a dark pleasure that flickered at the edges of her awareness, teasing her with its presence.

Yumi pulled back, her breath hot against the poor girl’s flushed skin, and shifted upward, straddling Aiko’s face with a fluid grace. 

“Taste me,” she commanded, her voice thick with a sultry edge. Aiko’s tongue darted out, tracing desperate patterns against Yumi’s shaved pussy, her movements frantic as she sought solace in the task. The act was a lifeline, a distraction from the relentless pounding in her ass, and she latched onto it with a desperate focus.

Hayao’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into her slender hips as he slammed into her with savage intensity. The slick sound of their connection filled the room, mingling with Yumi’s gasps and Aiko’s muffled cries. The stopwatch flared brilliantly, its pulse a frantic drumbeat, urging them toward the precipice.

With a final, brutal thrust, Hayao came undone, spilling deep inside the little girl’s bowels with a groan that echoed through the room. The sudden heat and pressure tipped Aiko over the edge, her body convulsing as a jagged orgasm ripped through her, her cries muffled against Yumi’s pulsing flesh. Yumi followed an instant later, her moans peaking as she ground down one last time, the stopwatch glowing fiercely as if gorging on the raw energy of their release.

They collapsed in a tangled heap, their breaths ragged and uneven, sweat-slicked skin glistening in the dim light. The camera whirred on, capturing the aftermath—the lingering tremors, the fleeting touches, the silence that settled like a heavy shroud. Hayao and Yumi exchanged a glance, their smiles sharp and knowing, a shared revelry in the boundary they’d crossed and the triumph of their livestream. The view count ticked upward, but it was the stopwatch’s steady, sated hum that lingered, a quiet testament to the chaos they’d wrought and the power they’d claimed.

The End

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