I drew back slightly, my cock still buried deep inside her, and without warning, swiftly flipped her over onto her stomach. The motion was fluid, practiced—the kind of movement that came from years of handling both willing and unwilling bodies.
"What are you—" Tsunami's outraged voice cut through the air as she tried to push herself up on shaking arms. "This is... this position is..."
Her words died as I pressed back into her from behind, my thick length stretching her tight widow slit in new ways. She wasn't used to my girth yet—each entrance still required her body to remember how to accommodate me.
But this angle was different, giving better reach for deeper exploration, and I watched her spine arch involuntarily.
"Improper," she managed to gasp out, though her voice already carried that breathless quality that meant her body was not agreeing with her principles. "A proper woman doesn't... doesn't do such things. This is how animals—"
I thrust slowly, deliberately, and her words stuttered. I had been right, missionary was most likely the only position she ever had sex.
"You can't expect me to—" A deeper push made her bite her tongue. "—to behave like some common—" Another thrust, and her voice cracked slightly. "—like some shameless…. who—oh..."
The 'oh' slipped out unbidden, and I felt her walls flutter around me. Perfect. I placed one hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her in place as I established a rhythm—slow, deep strokes that had her struggling to maintain her indignant lecture.
"This is absolutely—" Her breath hitched as I hit particularly deep. "—unbecoming of a woman my—" A slow, grinding thrust made her voice shake. "—my age and station—"
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here she was, ass up and taking my cock like she was made for it, while trying to maintain some semblance of maternal authority. Like scolding me would somehow restore her dignity.
"You should show more—" I pulled almost completely out before sliding back in. "—more respect for your—" Another deep thrust, and she had to brace herself against the futon. "—elders..."
Her hips had started pushing back, as awkwardly and as amateurishly as it was, to meet my thrusts, seeking the friction even as her mouth continued its weak protests.
"I may not have….. but I have d-dignity. I won't be used like this, like some... some..."
Another deep thrust, and her words broke completely into a half-stifled moan.
"Like some what?" I asked, because it would be bad if she returned to her forced silence. Because I wanted to hear her moans. And it was rather funny seeing her struggling to salvage some dignity.
My hand tightened on her shoulder, keeping her exactly where I wanted her.
"Like some... dirty..." Thrust. Her voice cracked. "Some dirty woman who enjoys..." Another thrust, and she bit back what was clearly going to be a moan. "Who enjoys being... being taken like..."
I leaned forward, my mouth close to her ear. "Being taken like what, Tsunami? Use your words."
The taunt made her cheeks burn redder as she realized where I was leading her, shame and arousal warring across her features. "I won't... I won't say such vulgar..."
I increased the pace slightly, watching her struggle between maintaining her dignity and giving in to the sensations I was wringing from her neglected body. Each slow, deep thrust hit places her previous husbands had never found, stretching her in ways that made speech and thoughts increasingly difficult.
"You're awfully quiet for someone with so many complaints," I taunted, driving particularly deep and grinding against her cervix.
She went rigid beneath me, a sharp intake of breath the only sound she allowed herself. But I could see it in the way her fingers clutched at the futon, the way her back arched despite her attempts to stay still—she was fighting not to moan.
I needed her to lose.
"That's it," I murmured, settling into a steadier rhythm. "Good girls don't make noise, do they? Even when they're being fucked properly for the first time in their lives."
The crude language made her flinch, but her pussy clenched around me in response. I could feel her getting wetter, her body preparing itself despite her mental protests.
I had all night to break down her defenses. And judging by how her anger was already melting into desperate attempts to stay quiet, it wouldn't take nearly as long as I'd thought.
Her malnourished frame looked almost fragile beneath me—narrow shoulders, the delicate curve of her spine, hip bones prominent beneath pale skin. But there was something incredibly arousing about having this proper, traditional woman spread out and taking my cock like she was built for it.
The 'shameful' position was doing wonders. Every thrust sank in with a slick, obscene sound that told me more than her mouth ever could. She was soaked. Not just wet—sloppy, her cunt loud enough to echo off the walls with each stroke.
Her body was answering to the degradation even as her mind tried to run. Her pale ass cheeks bounced against my hips, and the way she kept clenching around me… it was practically begging.
Improper? No. This was exactly what she needed.
I was at my limit.
My own release was building fast—weeks of pent-up need combined with the incredible tightness of her long-neglected cunt. But I could feel her climbing toward another peak too, her breathing getting more erratic, thighs starting to tremble. I needed her to break first.
Time for psychological warfare.
"Tell me, Tsunami," I said, my voice deliberately casual despite the strain of holding back my orgasm. "Would a proper woman have invited a stranger into her home like this?"
She stiffened beneath me, and her walls clench reflexively. That hit too close for her to keep silent. "I... I only invited you for tea," she managed, though her voice was breathy and strained. "To thank you properly for—"
"For tea?" I interrupted, driving deep and kissing the entrance of her womb, making her jolt forward but with my hand on her thin shoulder, she had nowhere to run. Patience, I will fill it soon enough. "And yet here you are, naked beneath me, taking my cock like some — some — what's the word?"
"That's not—I didn't plan—" Her words broke as I hit that perfect angle, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
"Didn't plan what?" I pressed, keeping up the rhythm that was slowly driving us both toward the edge. "To strip out of your clothes the moment I asked? To spread your legs for a man half your age?"
"I'm not like that!" she protested, her voice cracking with strain and shame. "I only... you said you wanted me, and I thought if I let you see my body, you'd be disgusted and leave. I never thought you'd actually..."
Perfect. She was talking, defending herself, which meant she was breathing harder, getting more worked up. I could feel her pussy getting slicker, more desperate.
Funny how dignity did what resting couldn't—ten seconds ago, she was too exhausted to move, now she had the strength to argue with a cock inside her.
"Actually what? Actually want to fuck a lonely widow who's been starving for attention?" I leaned forward, my mouth near her ear. "Tell me, does a proper mother spread her legs this easily? Does she get this wet for strangers?"
"Stop saying such vulgar things!" But even as she protested, I felt her hips push back against me, seeking more friction. Her dark hair was plastered to her neck with sweat, and I could see the flush spreading down her spine.
"Look at yourself," I continued, my own voice getting rougher as my climax approached. "Ass up, face down, taking it like a bitch in heat. What would people think if they could see the dignified Tsunami now?"
I could've used her son or late husbands here. Said something to rub them into her shame. But it was too soon for that kind of play.
"I'm not... I don't..." She was panting now, her words coming in broken gasps. "I only did this because you saved Inari. Because I owed you. A proper woman honors her debts—"
She shoved trembling hands into the futon, lifting her upper body slightly—just enough to no longer be fully facedown. Some final scrap of pride forcing her to rise, not to match the exact image I'd thrown at her.
It only made things worse….. or better?
The move slid her into a perfect doggy position—shoulders up, spine curved, ass tilting back and open. I almost shoved her down again, ready to remind her who decided how she was taken. But I didn't. Instead, I let her keep her little protest and dragged the hand from her shoulder to her hips instead, gripping the thin curve of her waist just hard enough to feel her hipbone under skin. Sharp under my palm—too thin—but wide, the kind of hips that had carried life once.
And now they were holding me.
"By spreading her cunt for payment?" The crude word made her whole body shudder. "Face it, sweetheart. You wanted this. You've been aching for a real man to fill you up properly."
Her modest breasts swayed with each thrust, dark nipples hard. They called for me and I answered. I reached from behind to fondle them.
Tsunami worked her jaw, fighting desperately not to let any sound escape as the pleasure built. Her thighs were shaking now, the muscles in her pale ass clenching as she tried to hold back her mounting orgasm.
"That's not true," she whispered, but her voice was barely audible over her ragged breathing. "I'm not some desperate woman who—humm"
"Who what? Who gets dripping wet the moment a man pays attention to her? Who comes apart at the first proper fucking she's had in years?"
I was close now, so goddamn close, but I needed her to break first. Needed to hear this proper, traditional woman completely lose control more.
"Admit it," I growled, my thrusts becoming more urgent. "Admit you love being used like this. Tell me what you really are."
Her breathing was becoming erratic—sharp exhales through her nose as she fought to keep her mouth sealed. Every thrust had her trembling, but still she wouldn't give me the satisfaction of hearing her moan.
Time to up the stakes.
My hand came down hard across her pale ass cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the small room. Her whole body jolted, pussy clamping down on me like a vice, but only a harsh breath escaped through her nose.
"Look at that," I taunted, watching the red handprint bloom across her skin. "Your cunt just squeezed me so tight. Does the proper widow like being spanked?"
Another slap, harder this time, and her back arched beautifully. Her walls fluttered around my cock, but still the stubborn woman kept that stubborn silence, breathing harder through her nose like a cornered animal.
"Every slap makes you wetter," I observed, delivering another sharp blow to her other cheek. "I can feel how much your body loves this, even if you won't admit it."
Slap. Her thighs shook. Slap. Her fingers clawed at the futon. Slap. So tight around me, I could barely move.
I was losing it—weeks of abstinence and the incredible grip of her spasming pussy pushing me past my limit. My balls were drawn tight, pressure building to a breaking point I couldn't control anymore.
"Fuck," I growled, grabbing her narrow hips with both hands. My fingers dug into the sharp curve of her hip bones, holding her steady as my thrusts became frantic, desperate. "I'm going to fill you up. Going to pump you full of my seed."
Her whole body went rigid at those words, but I was beyond caring about her shock or protests. With a final, brutal thrust, I buried myself as deep as I could go, the head of my cock pushing against her cervix, and I let go.
The first pulse of my release flooding her womb was what finally broke her.
The widow's head snapped back, mouth falling open in an ugly, guttural cry that had no trace of dignity or restraint. It was raw, animal, the sound of a woman completely overwhelmed by sensation. Her entire body convulsed beneath me—back arching impossibly, thighs shaking violently, fingers clawing desperate furrows in the bedding.
The spasms that wracked her cunt were vicious, milking every drop from my cock as I emptied myself deep inside her. Each contraction seemed to trigger another wave of my orgasm, rope after rope of hot cum flooding her neglected womb until it started seeping out around my still-buried length.
Her climax was nothing like the controlled, quiet releases I'd given her before. This was ugly, undignified—the kind of orgasm that stripped away every pretense of propriety. Her whole body shook like she was having a seizure, savage contractions traveling from her core outward until even her toes were curling.
The sound she made never stopped—one long, broken keen that rose and fell with each pulse of her release.
And still I was coming, her violent spasms coaxing more and more from my oversensitive cock until I thought I might pass out from the intensity. Her womb was flooded, full to capacity and beyond, cum leaking everywhere as her body tried to contain what I was giving her.
When it finally ended, we both collapsed—her face-first into the futon, me draped over her trembling form. She passed out, while I gasped like I'd just fought through a battle after battle, barefoot and half-chakra drained.
It's a battle, alright.
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