Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch3.[b] The Inn’s Temptation (I) [gangbang, anal, triple penetration, double penetration, MMF]

Hayao lay on the futon, the flickering glow of the lantern casting long shadows across the room. Beside him, Minami slept soundly, her bleached blonde hair fanning across the pillow like a halo, her face serene in the dim light. She carried an effortless innocence, her soft breathing a quiet rhythm against the distant hum of cicadas outside the inn’s walls. Hayao should have been lulled into exhaustion by the day’s travel and the hot springs, but instead, a restless energy coiled in his chest, refusing to let him rest.

His mind kept circling back to Chisato, the inn’s okami. From the moment they’d arrived, she’d captivated him—not with overt seduction, but with a presence that seemed to hum beneath her polished exterior. When they’d checked in, she’d greeted them at the entrance, her silk kimono that hugged her form and did little to hide the size of her large breasts, the fabric catching the light as she moved with a dancer’s grace. Her long, glossy black hair fell in a sleek cascade down her back, and her dark eyes, framed by a delicate beauty mark beneath her left one. Memories of her lingered in his memory, a spark that refused to fade.

A seed of curiosity had been planted, that bloomed into desire, and finally turned into an urge he couldn’t ignore. Now, with Minami asleep beside him, that urge tugged at him like a current, pulling him toward the unknown.

He glanced at Minami, and, careful not to wake her, he slid from the futon, the coarse fabric of his yukata rustling faintly as he tied it loosely around his waist. His bare feet pressed against the cool tatami mats, each step silent as he slipped out of the room, the wooden corridor stretching before him like a path to inevitability.

Moonlight filtered through the shoji screens, painting the inn in silvery hues. The air grew warmer as he approached the male public baths, the faint scent of sulfur mingling with the woodsy aroma of the building. Then he heard it—sounds that didn’t belong to the stillness of the night. Low moans, rhythmic grunts, the unmistakable wet slap of skin against skin. His pulse quickened, curiosity warring with hesitation. He paused at the entrance, the heavy curtain swaying gently in the breeze, then steeled himself and pushed it aside.

Steam billowed out, thick and suffocating, carrying the musky tang of sweat and something more visceral. His eyes watered as they adjusted to the haze, and when the scene came into focus, his breath caught in his throat. There, in the center of the bathhouse, was Chisato. She was surrounded by a group of naked men, their bodies glistening with water and perspiration, muscles taut with exertion. Her kimono lay crumpled in a heap near the edge of the pool, a discarded relic of propriety. Her skin, flushed pink from the heat, gleamed under the dim light, every curve accentuated as she moved with a confidence that bordered on reverence.

On the tiled floor, her body a nexus of motion. One man gripped her hips from behind, his thrusts steady and forceful, the sound of their collision echoing faintly off the stone walls. Another stood before her, her lips enveloping him with an eager rhythm, her head bobbing as she took him deeper. Her hands were busy too, stroking two others with slick, practiced motions, her fingers curling and sliding with an almost hypnotic grace. The men’s faces were masks of ecstasy, their eyes locked on her with a mix of awe, hunger, and something akin to worship.

Hayao’s chest tightened, a rush of heat flooding his body. He’d come seeking her, drawn by the subtle flirtations she’d scattered like breadcrumbs, but this was something else—raw, unfiltered, and overwhelming. Chisato’s expression was one of pure abandon, her eyes half-lidded, a smile playing on her lips even as she worked. Her hair clung to her damp skin, strands plastered across her shoulders and chest, and when she tilted her head back to let out a throaty moan, the sound sent a shiver down his spine.

A voice cut through the haze, gravelly and amused. “You’re the young guest, came with that cute thing, right? City folk. From Room 12?”

Hayao turned to see a middle-aged man standing near the entrance, his graying hair plastered to his forehead, a towel slung over his shoulder. He watched the scene with the casual air of someone observing a familiar ritual. Hayao nodded, his throat dry. “Yeah. What… what’s happening here?”

The man chuckled, crossing his arms. “Quite the sight, huh? It’s a strange story. Chisato’s mother ran this place for years—she died a few months back. Left a will with a hell of a twist: whoever gets Chisato pregnant within a year inherits a fortune. If no one does, it all goes to charity. So, these guys—” he jerked his head toward the group—“they’re taking their chances.”

Hayao’s brow furrowed, his gaze drifting back to Chisato. She didn’t look coerced or reluctant. If anything, she seemed to revel in it. “She looks like she’s having fun,” he said, almost to himself.

The man snorted, following his gaze. “Fun? She’s loving every second of it. The will’s just an excuse—she’d be doing this anyway. Look at her. She’s got them all wrapped around her finger.”

As if on cue, Chisato arched her back, her voice rising in a husky command. “More—don’t hold back!” The man behind her growled, his pace quickening, while the one in front gripped her hair, his breath ragged. She pulled away just long enough to flash a wicked grin, her tongue darting out before she dove back in, her enthusiasm palpable. The others pressed closer, their hands roaming her body, their groans filling the air like a chorus.

Hayao’s hands clenched at his sides, desire surging through him like a wildfire. He’d never seen anything like this—never felt anything like this. 

“I want in,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

The man raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Fair enough. One rule—if you’re playing for the prize, leave a hair sample. Keeps things straight if she ends up with a kid. Table’s over there.” He nodded toward a small wooden stand by the entrance, stacked with envelopes and a pen.

Hayao crossed to it, his movements mechanical. He plucked a strand of his dark hair, tucking it into an envelope and scrawling his name across the front. Handing it to the man, he untied his yukata, letting it fall to the floor. The damp air hit his skin, raising goosebumps as he stepped forward, the tiles slick beneath his feet.

Chisato had shifted positions, lying on her back now, legs spread wide. One man pounded into her, his hands braced on either side of her, while another straddled her chest, sliding between her breasts as she pressed them together with a playful smirk. Her eyes flicked up and caught Hayao’s, lighting up with recognition. 

“Well, hello,” she purred, her voice a velvet caress. She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his length with a slow, teasing stroke. “Come here—I want you.”

He stepped closer, and she guided him to her mouth, her tongue swirling with a skill that made his knees buckle. Hayao groaned, his hands tangling in her damp hair as she sucked him deep, the heat and pressure overwhelming. Around them, the frenzy continued—her hands stroking, her body bending to accommodate every demand, a symphony of flesh and sound.

He couldn’t hold back. Pulling free from her mouth, he met her gaze, her eyes blazing with challenge. 

“Now,” she demanded, her voice thick with need. The man between her legs stepped aside, and Hayao took his place, thrusting into her with one smooth, desperate motion. She cried out, her nails digging into his arms, urging him deeper. 

“Yes—harder!” she gasped, her body rocking beneath him.

Another man stepped up, and she turned her head, taking him into her mouth with the same fervor, her hands reaching for others, keeping the rhythm alive. She was a storm, a force of nature, every movement drawing them in deeper. Hayao growled, lost in the heat of her, the slick tightness driving him wild. 

“You love this,” he said, his hips snapping forward.

She pulled back just enough to flash that grin again, her lips glistening. “Yes! Don’t stop!” Then she was back, moaning around the man in her mouth, her body trembling with unbridled need. The room pulsed with sound—wet slaps, ragged breaths, her muffled cries blending with the splash of water and the creak of the wooden benches.

Hayao felt the edge approaching, his control slipping. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained.

“Cum inside!” she demanded, her eyes fierce, locking onto his. He thrust once more, hard and deep, spilling into her as she shuddered beneath him, her own release crashing through her in waves. 

The man in her mouth followed, and her hands tightened, drawing groans from the others as they reached their own peaks.

Hayao pulled back, his legs shaky, his chest heaving. Another man took his place almost instantly, and Chisato laughed—a wild, free sound—as she welcomed him with open arms, her energy seemingly boundless. 

Hayao lingered a moment longer, watching her skin glisten with sweat and desire, her expression one of pure, unadulterated bliss. 

Hayao sat against a wall on the cool tiles of the bathhouse, his body slick with sweat and the lingering echoes of his release. The steam swirled around him, thick and humid, curling tendrils that carried the sharp bite of sulfur mingled with the earthy musk of exertion. His chest heaved as he fought to steady his breathing, the frantic thud of his heart a relentless drumbeat in his ears. Beside him, the chaotic symphony of the bathhouse played on—wet, rhythmic slaps of flesh against flesh, low growls of effort, and Chisato’s voice cutting through it all, a melody of gasps and moans that danced on the edge of control.

He shifted slightly, his gaze drawn inexorably to the center of the room. There was Chisato, a vision of unrestrained desire amidst the haze. The beautiful woman knelt on the tiles now, her knees pressed into the damp stone, her body swaying with the force of the man behind her. His hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he thrust with a steady, punishing rhythm. Her back arched, a graceful curve that highlighted the swell of her breasts, swaying with each impact, their tips glistening with sweat in the dim light. In front of her, another man stood, his cock buried in her mouth, her lips stretched wide as she worked him with eager, fluid motions. Her hands weren’t idle either—one stroked a third man to her left, her fingers sliding along his length with practiced ease, while the other reached out to tease a fourth, her touch light but deliberate.

Hayao’s breath caught as he watched her, a tangle of emotions twisting in his chest. There was satisfaction, a warm glow from his earlier release still lingering in his limbs, but it warred with a flicker of jealousy—how could she give herself so fully to these others after him? Yet beneath it all burned anticipation, a restless heat that coiled low in his gut. He’d tasted her, felt her shudder beneath him, and now he wanted more. The sight of her like this—so utterly consumed, so alive in her pleasure—was a pull he couldn’t resist.

He wanted to make her his.

The air was heavy, saturated with the mingled scents of sweat, sex, and the mineral tang of the hot springs. It clung to his skin, a second layer that made every breath feel thick. Around him, the other men were a shifting tableau of lust—some still locked in their pursuit of Chisato, their bodies glistening as they moved with her, while others rested on the sidelines, their eyes glazed with satiation or hunger. The older man from earlier leaned against the wall, his towel still slung over his shoulder, watching with that same knowing smirk. He caught Hayao’s eye and gave a small nod, as if to say, You’re in deep now, kid.

Hayao’s gaze drifted back to Chisato. She’d shifted again, her adaptability a marvel in itself. Now she straddled one man, her thighs bracketing his hips as she rode him with slow, deliberate rolls. Her hands pressed against his chest, nails leaving faint red crescents on his skin, and her head tipped back, exposing the elegant column of her throat. A sheen of sweat coated her, catching the light and making her glow like some primal deity. Another man approached from her side, and she turned her head, her lips parting to take him in, her tongue flicking out before she swallowed him down.

The sight sent a jolt through Hayao, a spark that reignited the embers of his arousal. He felt a faint twitch between his legs, a promise of what was to come, but he wasn’t ready yet. His body needed time, and so he waited, letting the scene unfold before him like a living painting. He reached down, his hand brushing against himself, testing the waters. The slickness from earlier still coated him, and he stroked lightly, coaxing the slow return of his hardness.

Chisato’s eyes fluttered open, catching his stare through the steam. A wicked smile curved her lips, and she pulled away from the man in her mouth just long enough to speak. 

Her voice was a husky tease, roughened by exertion but dripping with invitation. “Like what you see?”

He swallowed, his throat dry despite the humidity. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice low. “You’re… incredible.”

She laughed, a throaty sound that vibrated through the air. “Good. Keep your eyes on me.” She sank down harder onto the man beneath her, a moan spilling from her lips as she ground against him, her movements a deliberate performance for Hayao’s benefit.

His hand moved faster, the friction building as his arousal grew. Around him, the other men pressed on, their actions a relentless tide. One knelt beside Chisato, his hands roaming her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as she rode her partner. Another took her hand, guiding it to his cock, and she obliged, her fingers wrapping around him with a dexterity that spoke of experience.

The bathhouse was alive with sound—grunts of effort, the wet clap of skin, Chisato’s breathy cries weaving through it all. The steam blurred the edges, turning the scene into something dreamlike, yet the rawness of it grounded Hayao, tethering him to the moment. He could feel himself hardening, the ache returning with a vengeance. The young man’s breath quickened, matching the tempo of the room.

The elegant woman shifted once more, climbing off the man beneath her and lying back on the tiles, her legs splaying wide in a blatant invitation. Another man moved between her thighs, sliding into her with a groan that echoed off the walls. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her hands clawing at his back as he thrust with desperate urgency. 

Her head lolled to the side, and she caught Hayao’s eye again, her smile sharpening. “Getting hard for me, dear guest?” she purred, her voice a siren’s call.

The young boy nodded, standing on shaky legs. His cock was fully hard now, pulsing with need. He stepped forward, drawn to her like a moth to flame. The man between her legs didn’t pause, his rhythm unbroken, and Chisato reached out, her fingers brushing Hayao’s thigh. 

“I want you,” she said, her tone firm. “From behind. In my ass.”

The bluntness of her command sent a thrill through him, his pulse spiking. The idea of taking her in such an intimate place, to sodomize such a beautiful creature. He moved behind her, his hands finding her hips as the man in front continued his relentless pace. The gorgeous woman arched her back, lifting her ass slightly, presenting herself to him. Her skin was slick with sweat, her curves gleaming in the dim light.

He hesitated, his breath hitching as he took in the sight—her pussy filled by another man, the tight ring of her asshole just above, glistening with moisture. Chisato glanced over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Don’t hold back,” she said. “I want it hard.”

Her words snapped him into action. He gripped her hips tightly, positioning himself at her entrance. The tip of his cock pressed against her, meeting resistance, and he pushed forward slowly, carefully. She gasped, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed, urging him on with a low, “Yes, like that.”

Inch by inch, he sank into her, the tightness enveloping him in a way that was almost too much. It was hot, constricting, a sensation unlike anything he’d felt before. He paused when he was fully inside, his hands trembling on her hips, giving her a moment to adjust. She rocked back against him, a signal to move, and he began to thrust—slow at first, then faster as he found his rhythm.

Chisato moaned loudly, the sound raw and unrestrained. The man in her pussy matched Hayao’s pace, their movements syncing into a brutal, primal dance. Another man stepped forward, offering his cock to her mouth, and she took it eagerly, her lips closing around him as she sucked with fervor. Her body was a nexus of pleasure, accommodating them all with a grace that defied comprehension.

Hayao’s thrusts grew harder, driven by the sight of her submission, the feel of her clenching around him. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t care. The friction, the heat—it was intoxicating. Around them, the other men watched or joined in, some stroking themselves, others reaching for her, their hands a constant presence on her skin.

The slut pulled away from the cock in her mouth, turning her head to meet Hayao’s gaze. “Choke me,” she demanded, her voice thick with need. “I want to feel it.”

The request startled him, but her intensity spurred him on. He reached forward, his hand wrapping around her throat, applying a gentle pressure. Her eyes fluttered shut, a shudder running through her as he tightened his grip slightly. “Harder,” she gasped, her tone insistent.

He obeyed, increasing the pressure just enough to feel her pulse beneath his fingers. Her moans grew sharper, more desperate, her body tightening around him in response. The man in her pussy groaned, his thrusts faltering for a moment before he redoubled his efforts, and the one in her mouth gripped her hair, guiding her back to him.

Hayao’s world narrowed to this—the heat of her ass, the pulse of her throat, the relentless rhythm of their bodies. His climax loomed, but he fought it, wanting to give her everything she demanded. After a few more thrusts, she tapped his hand, and he released her throat instantly. She sucked in a ragged breath, her body quaking with pleasure.

“Now my mouth,” she said, her voice hoarse but commanding. “Fuck my face.”

He pulled out of her ass, his cock slick and aching. She turned to face him, still on her knees, her eyes blazing with hunger. The man in her pussy shifted to accommodate her movement, never breaking his stride. Chisato opened her mouth wide, and Hayao stepped forward, guiding himself between her lips. She took him deep, her throat relaxing to swallow him whole, and he groaned, his hands fisting in her damp hair.

He thrust into the woman’s mouth, the wet heat overwhelming. Her eyes watered, tears streaking down her cheeks, but she urged him on, her hands gripping his thighs, pulling him closer. The sounds—her gagging, the slick slide of his cock, the grunts of the man still fucking her—filled the air, a cacophony of raw desire.

His control slipped, the edge rushing toward him, but he remembered her final command. With a groan, he pulled out, her saliva dripping from him. 

The inn’s young okami looked up, her lips swollen, her expression one of fierce satisfaction. “Finish inside me,” she said, lying back on the tiles, legs wide. “I need your seed.”

The woman was a succubus.

The man in her pussy stepped aside after cumming, and Hayao took his place, sliding into her with a single, deep thrust. She cried out, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. Their tongues clashed as he moved, his hips driving forward with urgency. Another man approached, and she turned her head, pulling away from Hayao as she took the new man in her mouth, her hands reaching for others, keeping the frenzy alive.

Hayao lost himself in her—the slick heat, the way she met every thrust, the muffled moans vibrating against his lips. Her nails raked his back, spurring him on, her legs locking around him. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice a ragged whisper.

“Dear guest…,” she gasped, breaking the kiss to meet his eyes. “Fill me up.”

With a final, shuddering thrust, he came, spilling into her as she clenched around him, her own climax ripping through her. The man in her mouth followed, and her hands tightened, drawing groans from the others as they reached their peaks.

Hayao collapsed onto the floor beside her, his body spent, his chest heaving. Chisato turned to him, a lazy, satisfied smile on her lips. 

He wanted to fuck her again.

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