Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.3[b] Homewrecker

Hayao zipped up his pants, the faint sound cutting through the stillness of Minami’s room. He looked at the girl he had just savaged. The sheets twisted around her legs, her tan lines stark against her sun-kissed skin, a silent testament to their earlier intimacy. For a moment, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—tightened his chest, but he shook it off. Minami was asleep, spent, and he had other plans stirring in his mind.

Slipping his socks back on, he felt the cool hardwood floor beneath his feet, a stark contrast to the heat still simmering in his veins. The stopwatch dangled from its chain around his neck, a heavy, tantalizing weight against his chest. The narrow hallway stretched before him, lined with family photos—smiling faces frozen in time, their eyes seeming to follow him as he descended the stairs. The faint hum of a radio drifted up from below, an old pop song weaving through the air, mingling with the savory aroma of dinner being prepared.

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused, his breath catching as he spotted Tokiko in the kitchen. She stood at the counter, her back to him, the rhythmic chop of a knife against a cutting board punctuating the melody from the radio. Minami’s mother was a vision, her presence filling the space with an effortless allure that hit him like a physical force. On her feet, pink indoor slippers peeked out, a mundane detail that somehow amplified her unconscious sensuality.

“Hayao!” Tokiko’s voice broke through his reverie, warm and melodic, wrapping around him like a caress. She turned from the counter, wiping her hands on her apron, her amber eyes sparkling with surprise and delight. “I didn’t hear you come down. Hello there.”

“Hey, Mrs. Nakai,” Hayao replied, his voice steady despite the quickening thud of his pulse. He stepped into the kitchen, the tiled floor cool beneath his socks, closing the distance between them. “I was just upstairs with Minami. She’s resting now.”

Tokiko’s smile widened, soft and maternal. “Oh, good. She’s been pushing herself so hard with swimming lately. I worry about her.” She turned back to the counter, resuming her chopping—carrots this time, their bright orange vivid against the wooden board. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’ve got plenty—stew, rice, some grilled fish. It’s no trouble at all.”

The offer hung in the air, tempting not just for the promise of food but for the chance to linger in Tokiko’s orbit. Hayao’s fingers brushed the stopwatch against his chest, its cool metal grounding him as his mind raced. He’d been cautious with its power since discovering it—time manipulation, subtle influence, he wasn’t entirely sure of its limits yet. Upstairs, Minami had been a willing participant, no stopwatch needed. But here, with Tokiko, radiant and unaware, a new curiosity gnawed at him. What could it do at its lowest setting? Could it nudge her thoughts, soften her edges, without her even noticing? He decided to find out.

“Maybe I will,” he said, his voice low, a smile tugging at his lips. He stepped closer, drawn by the heat radiating from her, the faint scent of lavender and kitchen spices enveloping him. “It smells amazing in here.”

Tokiko glanced over her shoulder, her smile softening. “You’re sweet. It’s just home cooking, nothing fancy.” 

She set the knife down, turning to face him fully, her hands resting on her hips. The apron pulled tighter, accentuating the swell of her breasts, and Hayao’s eyes flickered downward before snapping back to hers. 

“You sure Minami’s okay? She’s been so tired lately.”

“She’s fine,” Hayao said, his tone light, though his mind was elsewhere. His thumb traced the button on the stopwatch, hesitating only a moment before he turned the dial to its lowest setting and pressed it. The air shimmered faintly, a ripple so subtle it could’ve been a trick of the light. Tokiko blinked, her eyes unfocusing for a split second before she shook her head, as if brushing off a stray thought.

“Oh, young love,” she said suddenly, her voice wistful, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “You and Minami remind me of when I was your age—all passion and late nights.”

Hayao’s pulse quickened. The stopwatch’s effect was faint, but it was there—a loosening of her guard, a drift toward nostalgia. He seized the opening, his voice smooth and deliberate. 

“You’re still young, Tokiko. You don’t look a day over twenty.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her amber eyes widening before she laughed, a rich, self-conscious sound that sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Oh, you’re too kind. Flattery will get you everywhere, Hayao.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion drawing his gaze to the curve of her jaw, the softness of her skin. Her blush deepened, a warmth that spread across her chest, visible where her blouse gaped slightly.

He stepped closer, emboldened by the busty woman’s reaction, the heat radiating from her pulling him in. “I mean it,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “You’re incredible.” 

He was close now, close enough the way her breath hitched as he invaded her space. Her flush darkened, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.

Without thinking, Hayao reached out, his hand cupping one of her massive breasts through her clothes. The weight was heavy in his palm, soft yet firm, and he squeezed gently, feeling the give of her flesh. The woman hissed, her eyes flashing up to meet his, a mix of shock and reprimand swirling in their depths. 

“Hayao,” she said sharply, her voice a warning. “I’m Minami’s mother.”

His thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling it harden through the fabric, and he leaned closer, his lips curling into a smirk. “Minami’s not my girlfriend,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “She’s my sex friend. And you could be too, Tokiko.”

She froze, her breath catching, her eyes darting away—to the counter, the floor, anywhere but him. But she didn’t move away, didn’t push his hand off. The stopwatch pulsed faintly against his chest, its influence weaving through the moment, softening her resistance, amplifying her hesitation. Hayao’s other hand found her hip, fingers digging into the plush curve beneath her skirt, pulling her closer. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “You want this.”

The older woman’s hands fluttered to his chest, not quite pushing, not quite pulling. “I’m married,” she whispered, her voice trembling, a plea as much as a protest. “We shouldn’t… we can’t do this.” Her eyes met his, wide and glistening, her resolve fraying under his touch and the stopwatch’s subtle sway.

Hayao’s grip tightened, his hand kneading her breast more firmly, his thumb circling her nipple through the blouse. “Your husband’s not here,” he said, his voice a velvet blade. “But I am.” 

He slid his hand down her side, tracing the curve of her waist, then lower, cupping her ass through the skirt. She gasped, her body swaying into him despite her words, her cheeks burning with shame and desire.

The kitchen around them seemed to fade, the hum of the radio and the simmering stew receding as the tension between them thickened. Tokiko’s slippers shifted on the tile, a soft scuff against the floor, and Hayao pressed his advantage, his hands roaming with growing confidence. Her protests hung in the air, fragile and unconvincing, as he continued to seduce her.

The stopwatch pulsed to the beat of the young boy’s heart.

Her amber eyes flickered with uncertainty, but her body betrayed her, trembling slightly. He was a storm of raw energy, his presence overwhelming, his gaze locked on her with a hunger that made her pulse race.

Hayao’s hands were on her before she could protest, his fingers gripping her hips with a bruising force that sent a jolt through her. He pulled her against him, his chest hard against her softer frame, his breath hot against her neck. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he muttered, his voice a low growl that vibrated through her. His hands slid up her sides, rough and possessive, until they found her massive breasts, spilling over his palms even through her blouse. He squeezed them hard, his fingers sinking into the lush flesh, a groan escaping his lips. 

“Fuck, these are perfect. It’s a shame Minami didn’t inherit this rack.”

Tokiko’s breath caught, her mind reeling from the crude compliment and the sudden shift in topic. Her hands flew to his wrists, half-hearted in their attempt to stop him, but his grip only tightened. 

“Hayao… Minami’s not… she’s not my biological daughter,” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and fear, unsure why she’d let that truth slip now, in this moment of vulnerability.

Hayao froze for a heartbeat, his hands still on her breasts, his dark eyes widening with a strange, feral glint. The revelation hit him like a spark to dry tinder, igniting something primal deep within. Not her daughter? The thought twisted in his mind, fueling a dark thrill. Minami, his casual fling, wasn’t tied to Tokiko by blood—and somehow, that made Tokiko even more his to take, to claim in a way that went beyond reason. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, and his grip on her tightened, his thumbs brushing her nipples through the fabric, coaxing them to stiff peaks.

“Not your daughter, huh?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. 

His hands mauled her breasts harder, kneading them with a brutal intensity that made Tokiko gasp, her knees weakening. He pushed her back against the counter, the edge digging into her lower back as he pressed his body flush against hers. She could feel the hard length of his cock straining against his pants, pressing into her stomach, a promise of what was to come.

“Hayao, wait—” she started, her voice shaky, but he cut her off with a rough kiss, his lips crashing against hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. 

His hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her ass, squeezing the soft flesh until she whimpered into his mouth. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing hers. 

“No waiting,” he growled. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days.”

Before she could respond, he spun her around, shoving her forward until her stomach pressed against the cool countertop. Her hands scrambled for purchase, gripping the edge as he yanked her skirt up to her waist, exposing the creamy expanse of her thighs and the curve of her ass. Her dark brown hair fell forward, curtaining her face, but she couldn’t hide the flush that crept down her neck. Hayao’s hands were relentless, tugging her panties down in one swift motion, leaving them tangled around her ankles. The air was cool against her bare skin, but the heat of his body behind her was a furnace, radiating need.

He slapped her ass hard, the sound cracking through the kitchen like a whip. Tokiko yelped, the sting blooming into a dull ache that mingled with a shameful flicker of arousal. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his hand soothing the red mark before delivering another sharp smack. She bit her lip, stifling a moan, her body trembling under his control. He chuckled, low and dark, as he unzipped his pants, the sound loud in the charged silence. His cock sprang free, thick and throbbing, and he stroked it slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bent over, vulnerable and lush.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. “So fucking soft. So perfect.” He stepped closer, the head of his cock brushing against her slick entrance, teasing her. Tokiko’s breath hitched, her body tensing, but she didn’t pull away. “Beg me,” he demanded, his hand tangling in her dark brown hair, pulling her head back slightly. “Tell me you want it.”

Her lips parted, a shaky whisper escaping. “Please… Hayao…” It wasn’t enough. He yanked her hair harder, making her gasp. “Louder,” he snapped. “Beg me to fuck you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but the heat between her legs was undeniable, a pulsing need she couldn’t ignore. “Please, fuck me!” she cried, her voice breaking, raw with desperation. Hayao grinned, triumphant, and with a single, brutal thrust, he buried himself inside her, filling her completely. Tokiko screamed, her body arching as he stretched her, the sudden intrusion a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He didn’t pause, didn’t give her time to adjust. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pounded into her, each thrust deep and punishing. The kitchen echoed with the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, punctuated by Tokiko’s ragged moans and Hayao’s guttural grunts. Her breasts bounced with every movement, still trapped in her blouse, and he reached around to grab one, squeezing it roughly. “So fucking lush,” he growled, his voice thick. “I could fuck you all night.”

Tokiko’s mind was a storm of sensation—guilt, shame, and a dark, twisted pleasure she couldn’t deny. Her nails scraped the counter, her body rocking with his brutal rhythm. She felt every inch of him, his cock driving into her with relentless force, claiming her in a way that left her breathless. The thought of Minami, of her husband, flickered briefly in her mind, but it was drowned out by the raw intensity of the moment.

Hayao’s hands roamed her body, possessive and demanding. He tugged her hair again, pulling her head back so he could see her face, her amber eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “You’re mine now,” he snarled, his pace quickening. “I’m going to fill you up, Tokiko. Breed you. Leave something of me inside this perfect fucking body.”

The words sent a shiver through her, a mix of fear and something deeper, something she couldn’t name. His cock throbbed inside her, hot and insistent, and she felt herself spiraling toward the edge. “Hayao—” she gasped, but he cut her off with a final, savage thrust, burying himself as deep as he could go. He came with a roar, his cum flooding her pussy, hot and thick, spilling into her in pulsing waves. The sensation pushed her over the brink, her own orgasm crashing through her, her walls clenching around him, drawing out every drop.

They stayed locked together for a long, shuddering moment, their breaths harsh in the stillness. Hayao pulled out slowly, his cum dripping from her, staining her thighs. He stepped back, zipping up his pants, his eyes fixed on her trembling form. Tokiko slumped against the counter, her legs weak, her dark brown hair clinging to her sweat-dampened skin. Shame washed over her in waves—she’d just been fucked by a boy half her age, Minami’s friend, in her own home. Her throat tightened, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t face him.

Hayao’s voice broke the silence, low and commanding. “You’re unreal, Tokiko. Be my sex friend.” He stepped closer, his fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. Her amber eyes were wide, glistening with humiliation, but she couldn’t find the strength to refuse. She nodded mutely, her head dipping as the weight of her choice settled over her, heavy and inescapable.

Tokiko felt her body tingling with the echoes of pleasure, her mind a tangle of regret and surrender. The broth on the stove bubbled quietly, the only sound left in the room, as she tried to piece herself back together.

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