Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.3[b] Love Hotel (I) [anal in the shower]

The neon-lit streets of Dogenzaka thrummed with a restless energy, their glow casting jagged reflections on the wet pavement as Hayao and Minami ventured deeper into the district. The earlier spat from before lingered like a live wire between them, sparking with every unspoken word. The young girl’s arms stayed crossed, her jaw clenched in defiance, her blonde hair swaying faintly with each stubborn step. There was a primal tension that coiled tighter with every glance they avoided. Hayao’s mind churned, a storm of lust, frustration, and a burning need to seize control. He needed to redirect this, to bend it—and her—to his will.

A sign flickered ahead: "Eden’s Retreat," its katakana a curling, whispered promise. The young boy’s lips quirked into a smirk, decision made. He wasn’t letting this night slip away. Without a word, he veered toward the love hotel, his hand snapping out to grip Minami’s wrist. She jerked back instinctively, sneakers scraping pavement, but his hold was iron, and with a sharp huff, she let him drag her inside.

The lobby swallowed them in a hush of dim lights and dark wood, the air laced with sandalwood and a low, pulsing electronic hum. Abstract art on the walls teased at sensuality—curves and shadows that mirrored their own tension. The receptionist barely glanced up, sliding Hayao a key card with practiced indifference after his payment cleared. Minami fidgeted beside him, her flush creeping from her neck to her cheeks as the reality of the place sank in, her denim jacket slipping off one shoulder.

In the elevator, mirrors threw back their strained reflections—Hayao slouched against the railing, jacket open, hands in pockets; Minami opposite, blonde hair catching the light, avoiding his eyes as the numbers ticked up. The doors parted with a chime, revealing "Midnight Lotus"—a room steeped in purples and blacks, satin sheets sprawling across a massive bed, a chandelier of glass flowers scattering warm light. A velvet chaise sat by a window, while a frosted glass door glowed with the promise of a bathroom. A vending machine hummed in the corner, its display a catalog of indulgence: toys, lube, restraints.

Hayao’s voice sliced the silence. “Go take a shower first.” It was a command, low and unyielding.

Minami’s eyes flashed. “What, you think I’m dirty?” Her tone bit, but a tremor undercut it, nerves buzzing beneath her bravado.

“Just do it,” he said, his stare locking her in place.

She tossed her jacket onto the chaise with a scoff, her pink skirt flaring as she stormed to the bathroom, the door clicking shut like a gunshot. Hayao exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. Alone, his thoughts crystallized. Minami’s jealousy had ignited something raw in him—a need to punish, to dominate, to reclaim her. At eighteen, he knew his desires and how to take them. She’d resist, but she always caved. He’d make sure of it.

The hiss of the shower seeped through the door as he approached the vending machine. His eyes locked on a black dildo—sleek, curved, built for precision. Coins clinked, the machine whirred, and the toy dropped into his hand. He tested its weight, imagining it sinking into her, his cock stirring in his jeans. She’d fight it, scold him, then melt—and that’s what he craved. He hurriedly took off his clothes, eager for the fuck the girl’s brains out.

He didn’t knock. The bathroom door swung open, steam billowing out, thick with lavender and heat. The shower’s glass walls were fogged, but the slender girl’s silhouette cut through—slender, curved, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She didn’t hear him until the door thudded, spinning around with a yelp, arms shielding her chest. “Hayao! What the hell? Knock, you creep!”

He ignored her, crossing the tiles in three strides, dildo in hand. Her eyes widened, but before she could snap again, he seized her waist, yanking her slick, naked body against his clothed one. His gaze raked over her, drinking in the sight—her skin glistened under the water, tan lines stark and tantalizing where her bikini had kissed her flesh. The golden-brown bands framed her breasts, accentuating their swell, and traced her hips, drawing his eyes to the neatly trimmed bush above her pussy, a dark blonde patch that glistened with droplets, intensifying his hunger. Those tan lines carved out her sensual zones like a map, guiding his desire, while the trimmed hair added a raw, deliberate edge to her vulnerability. 

His lips crashed into hers, a bruising, ravenous kiss that devoured her gasp. She shoved at his chest, palms slipping on his wet jacket, but her resistance crumbled fast, her mouth parting, tongue meeting his in a frantic, messy dance. Her heat, her yield, was all that mattered.

He broke away, snatching the body soap from the shelf, its floral scent sharp in the humid air. He squeezed a thick stream into his palm, slathering the dildo until it gleamed, slick and menacing. Minami’s gaze darted to it, panic flaring. 

“What are you—” Her words died as he gripped her shoulder, spinning her to face the glass.

“Bend over,” he growled, voice thick with intent.

Her breath caught, hesitation warring with the pull of his command. Slowly, she obeyed, palms pressing into the fogged glass, water streaming down her back in rivulets. The tan lines on her lower back and ass caught his eye again, sharp contrasts that made her curves pop, fueling his arousal as he took in the sight. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a chaotic swirl of dread and dark anticipation. The dildo’s cool tip nudged her anus, and she jolted, a sharp inhale escaping her. Hayao didn’t rush—his push was slow, deliberate, the slick intrusion stretching her tight ring of muscle. She whimpered, the sensation teetering between pain and a deep, forbidden pleasure, her body clenching then yielding as it sank deeper, filling her with a heavy, relentless pressure.

He aligned his cock, driving into her pussy with a single, fluid thrust, her trimmed bush brushing against him, a soft, wet tease that heightened the friction. Minami’s moan ripped out, raw and guttural, the dual penetration slamming through her like a tidal wave. Her knees buckled, but the glass held her up, her body trembling under the onslaught. The water slicked everything—his thrusts glided effortlessly, the dildo’s rhythm matching his, a punishing tandem that overwhelmed her senses.

The shower roared with sound—water pounding tiles, skin smacking wetly, Minami’s gasps escalating into cries. Steam thickened the air, clinging to their skin, the heat amplifying every sensation. Hayao’s hand on the dildo twisted it slightly as he pushed, the curve hitting nerves that made her shudder, her ass clenching around it. His cock filled her pussy, stretching her walls, a subtle texture that drove him wild. Her nails scraped the glass, leaving faint streaks in the condensation, her body betraying her with every twitch, every moan.

He leaned closer, his chest pressing against her back, his breath hot on her neck. “You feel that?” he rasped, voice rough with strain. “Both holes, stuffed full.” His hips snapped harder, the dildo plunging deeper, and Minami’s cry broke into a sob, her mind reeling as pleasure and pain fused into something unbearable.

Her voice cracked through the haze. “Don’t—don’t cum inside me!” Desperation laced her plea, her head jerking up, eyes wide and glassy.

Hayao’s smirk was feral. With a swift yank, he ripped the dildo free, the sudden void wrenching a scream from her throat—high, piercing, bouncing off the tiles. Her ass gaped, quivering, and before she could catch her breath, he pulled out of her pussy and slammed his cock into her anus, burying himself balls-deep. The shock of it tore another scream from her, her body seizing as the brutal stretch burned through her. Pain flared, then melted into a dark, pulsing ecstasy, her nerves alight with every inch of him.

He didn’t hold back. His thrusts were savage, relentless, water splashing with each collision of his hips against her ass, her tan lines a vivid contrast against her flushed skin, stoking his obsession. The sting of it radiated through her, her cheeks reddening under the force. His hand fisted in her sopping hair, yanking her head back until her throat strained, her spine arching painfully. Droplets flew from her locks, splattering the glass. “Say it,” he snarled, teeth gritted, his voice a primal rumble. “Say you’re an anal whore.”

Minami’s mind fractured, drowned in the flood of sensation—his cock pounding her ass, the water scalding her skin, the humiliation searing her thoughts. She fought it, lips trembling, but her body was too far gone, too broken by the intensity. “I’m… I’m an anal whore,” she choked out, the words spilling in a dazed, shattered whisper, barely audible over the shower’s roar.

Hayao’s groan was a victory cry, deep and animalistic. Her surrender snapped the last thread of his control, and with one final, bone-rattling thrust, he came, his cock throbbing as he pumped hot, thick spurts deep inside her. The heat of it seared her, triggering her own release—a violent, shuddering orgasm that ripped through her like lightning, her walls spasming around nothing, her ass clenching around him. She screamed again, voice hoarse, body convulsing as she clung to the glass, nails digging in, knees nearly giving out.

The water cascaded over them, washing away the sweat and cum that leaked from her in milky streams, swirling down the drain. Hayao’s chest heaved, his grip loosening as he pulled out, leaving her empty and raw. He turned her gently, pulling her limp form against him under the spray. Minami slumped into his chest, her breaths ragged, her mind a tangle of fury, shame, and a twisted, undeniable satisfaction.

***

The air in the bathroom hung heavy with steam, thick with the scent of soap and the raw musk of their exertion. Hayao lingered under the shower’s spray for a moment longer, letting the water rinse away the sweat and the last traces of Minami’s heat from his skin. His chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, the adrenaline still simmering beneath his calm exterior. He turned off the faucet with a sharp twist. Stepping out, he grabbed a towel from the rack, swiping it over his shoulders and chest in quick, careless strokes. Droplets clung to his dark hair, dripping onto the tiles as he moved, his mind already shifting to what came next. The night wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

He strode back into the main room of "Midnight Lotus," the towel slung low around his hips, barely knotted. The space felt cooler now, a stark contrast to the humid haze of the bathroom. The satin sheets on the massive bed shimmered faintly under the chandelier’s glow, their deep purple hue absorbing the light like a bruise against the darkness. Hayao’s gaze settled on the TV mounted opposite the bed, its blank screen a canvas for his next move. He tossed the towel aside, letting it crumple on the velvet chaise, and sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress giving slightly under his weight. The satin was cool against his bare skin, a sensation that grounded him as he reached for the remote on the bedside table.

With a flick of his thumb, the screen buzzed to life, casting a harsh glow across the room. He navigated the menu of adult channels with practiced ease, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as he landed on one that promised raw intensity. The video started immediately, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and low, guttural moans spilling from the speakers. On screen, a slender woman with dark hair knelt at the center of a chaotic scene, surrounded by three men. Their hands roamed her body with rough familiarity, gripping her hips, her throat, her hair. They took turns with her, alternating positions with a brutal rhythm—fucking her mouth, her pussy, her ass in a relentless cycle. 

Hayao’s eyes narrowed, his cock twitching as he watched her being penetrated in every hole, her body bending and twisting under their control. The men shifted seamlessly, one sliding into her ass as another thrust into her mouth, the third stroking himself as he waited his turn. The sight sent a jolt through Hayao, his arousal building again despite the exhaustion still lingering in his muscles. He leaned back slightly, one hand resting on his thigh, the other gripping the remote as the scene unfolded.

The woman’s cries—muffled by the cock in her throat—mixed with the men’s grunts, a symphony of dominance and submission that mirrored the tension still coiled tight in Hayao’s chest. His mind flickered to Minami, her defiant glare, her trembling surrender in the shower. He could see her in that woman’s place—overwhelmed, taken, broken down until she was nothing but his. His cock hardened fully, the ache returning with a vengeance as he watched the men reposition her, flipping her onto her back, one slamming into her pussy while another forced himself into her ass, the third tilting her head back to fuck her face. The camera lingered on her expression—eyes watering, lips stretched, a mix of pain and ecstasy etched into every line. Hayao’s breath hitched, his hand drifting to his lap, stroking himself lazily as the scene fueled his hunger.

The bathroom door creaked open behind him, a soft sound nearly lost beneath the video’s noise. Minami stepped out, her blonde hair still damp and clinging to her shoulders, a white towel wrapped tightly around her body. She paused in the doorway, her eyes flicking from Hayao’s sprawled form to the TV screen, then down to his obvious erection. Her lips twisted into a sneer, her arms crossing over her chest as the towel slipped slightly, revealing the edge of her tan lines.

“Really?” she drawled, her voice thick with sarcasm. “You’re hard again already? That didn’t take long.”

Hayao didn’t turn his head, his eyes locked on the screen where the woman was now on her knees, the men circling her like predators. “Shut up and come here,” he said, his tone flat and commanding, cutting through her barb with cold precision.

Minami’s cheeks flushed, a mix of irritation and reluctant heat sparking in her hazel eyes. She hated how his voice could pin her in place, how it stripped away her bravado with humiliating ease. With a sharp huff, she let the towel fall, the fabric pooling at her feet to reveal her naked body. The tan lines stood out starkly against her skin, tracing the curves of her breasts and hips, a map of summer days that only heightened her vulnerability now. She crossed the room, her steps deliberate, the carpet soft beneath her bare feet, and knelt between his legs. Her hands hesitated on his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles, the heat radiating from him. Up close, she could see the way his jaw tightened as he watched the screen.

“Suck it,” Hayao said, his voice rough, eyes still fixed on the TV. “Or I can fuck your face. Your choice.”

Minami’s jaw clenched, her nails digging into his skin for a fleeting moment. The ultimatum hung heavy between them, a challenge she knew she couldn’t sidestep. With a reluctant sigh, she leaned forward, her lips parting as she took the tip of his cock into her mouth. The taste hit her immediately—salty, musky, still tinged with the shower’s aftermath. She swirled her tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive ridge before sliding him deeper, her lips stretching to accommodate his thickness. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking what she couldn’t fit, her movements slow but deliberate.

Hayao’s hand fell away from his lap, resting on the bed as he let her take over. On screen, the woman was being repositioned again, one man lifting her hips to thrust into her ass while another knelt in front of her, forcing his cock down her throat. The third stood to the side, stroking himself as he watched, his grunts growing louder. Hayao’s breath quickened, his cock pulsing in Minami’s mouth as he imagined her in that chaos—gagging, trembling, completely at their mercy. The thought sent a surge of heat through him, his fingers twitching against the satin sheets.

The girl worked him with grudging skill, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm, her tongue pressing against the veins that throbbed beneath her touch. Minami could feel him hardening further, the tension building in his thighs, and she braced herself for what she knew was coming. The sounds from the TV grew more frantic—the slap of skin, the woman’s choked moans, the men’s ragged breathing. The camera zoomed in on her face, capturing the way her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her eyes half-closed as she struggled to take them all. Hayao’s grip tightened on the remote, his knuckles whitening as the scene pushed him closer to the edge.

On screen, the men reached their climax. They pulled out one by one, positioning the woman on her knees as they surrounded her. Their hands moved furiously, and in a synchronized burst, they came, thick ropes of cum splattering across her face. She tilted her head back, mouth open, catching what she could on her tongue, her expression a dazed mix of exhaustion and surrender. The sight snapped something in Hayao. His hands shot to blonde’s head, fingers tangling in her damp hair as he thrust deep into her throat with a guttural groan. She gagged instantly, her eyes watering as his cock blocked her airway, his hips jerking as he came. Hot, thick spurts flooded her mouth, sliding down her throat in a relentless wave, and she had no choice but to swallow, her body convulsing as she fought for breath. Tears streaked down her cheeks, her hands clawing at his thighs, but he held her there until he was completely spent.

Finally, he released her, and the poor girl pulled back with a ragged gasp, coughing and sputtering as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You trying to drown me with your cum or something?” she snapped, her voice hoarse, a mix of anger and exhaustion lacing her words.

Hayao’s chest heaved, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he reached for the remote and turned off the TV, plunging the room into a heavy silence. “Maybe,” he said, his tone light but edged with dominance. “You handled it well, though.”

The young girl glared at him, her cheeks still flushed, her lips swollen from the rough treatment. She stood up slowly, snatching her towel from the floor and wrapping it around herself again, as if the thin fabric could shield her from the weight of his gaze. “You’re such an asshole,” she muttered, but there was a flicker of something else in her voice—grudging respect, or maybe just the lingering haze of their twisted dynamic.

Hayao leaned back on the bed, arms folded behind his head, watching her with a lazy, predatory stare. He didn’t move yet, letting the silence settle, giving her a moment to catch her breath. But he knew she’d feel his stare, knew it would crawl under her skin until she turned back to him, drawn into the fire once more.

Minami’s fingers tightened around the towel, her knuckles whitening as she fought the urge to look at him. She could still taste him, feel the ache in her throat, the rawness of her body from their earlier clash. She hated him—hated how he unraveled her, how he made her crave the very thing she despised. But the room felt too small, too charged, and she knew she wasn’t leaving.

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