I studied Tsunami with the intensity of a man cataloguing something precious, my gaze traveling slowly over every detail of her exhausted form. Dark hair clung to the perspiration at her temples, her chest rose and fell with each breath, a subtle tremor in her hands, and fatigue in her bones.
This woman—twice widowed, worn down by years of struggle, clinging to dignity even while naked and thoroughly debauched—was absolutely magnificent.
My stare made her suddenly conscious of her nakedness again. Her eyes darted down, taking in her exposed breasts with their dark nipples still slightly swollen from my attention, the mess between her thighs where my cum continued to leak steadily from her well fucked pussy.
"Oh," she breathed, that particular tone of a proper woman remembering herself. Her hands moved to cover her chest while she tried to reach for the sheet with the other, a delicate flush spreading across her collarbones. "I should... we should..."
But the sheet she grasped was thoroughly stained with my seed—more than I'd ever released in my life, thick white streaks across the fabric that spoke to just how completely I'd emptied myself inside her.
"Goodness," she murmured under her breath, holding up the soiled fabric with a mixture of fascination and mild irritation. "You certainly... that's quite a mess you've made."
Something about her practical assessment of my virility, delivered in that motherly tone, made my cock twitch with renewed interest.
I pushed myself up to sitting, my still-hard shaft jutting proudly as I looked down at her. Hmm, I could go for some sake right about now—strange, I rarely touched the stuff.
"Let me paint you a picture," I said, my voice deliberately gentle but carrying an edge of authority. "You're alone in one of the poorest regions in the world. Bandits raid constantly. Your son risks his life every time he travels with those merchants because it's the only work that pays enough to keep you both fed. You don't know if he'll come home each time he leaves."
Her face went carefully neutral, but I saw her fingers tighten on the sheet.
"You're surviving, barely, in a place where being a widow twice over makes you a pariah. Where every day is a struggle just to maintain basic dignity." I leaned forward slightly. "Tell me honestly—would you rather stay here? Like this?"
The conflict played across her features—duty warring with desire, pride fighting against pragmatism. She shook her head slowly.
"That's not... we're not your responsibility," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. "You can't just decide to fix our lives because you feel sorry for us."
I reached out and pulled the sheet away from her grasping hands. She resisted briefly, but when I didn't relent, she immediately covered her breasts with her arms and pulled her knees up protectively.
I gripped her knees and firmly pried her legs apart, ignoring her sharp intake of breath.
"What are you—stop that!" she protested, but her resistance was halfhearted, more reflexive modesty than genuine opposition.
My cum was still seeping from her swollen, hair-fringed pussy, her inner thighs slick with our combined fluids. The sight of how thoroughly I'd claimed her sent heat straight to my cock.
"Look at this," I said, running my thumb along her puffy outer lips, gathering the evidence of my possession. "This makes you mine. Makes you my responsibility."
She didn't look embarrassed so much as resigned, letting out a soft sigh that carried years of disappointment. "My womb is barren," she said quietly, unconsciously echoing the self-deprecating thoughts she'd carried for years. "My first husband and I tried for years after Inari, but nothing came. Just... empty months, one after another. Even my second husband, we hoped maybe..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I'm not yours. Not fit to be anyone's….."
The casual way she dismissed her own worth made something hot and protective flare in my chest.
"Your husband was weak," I said bluntly, earning a sharp look. "My seed is different. Way stronger than some fisherman's watered-down cum."
She didn't like that.
Yeah, I was being a prick. I'd touched a raw nerve, and I knew it—but I wasn't just running my mouth. She needed to hear it. I was serious. This wasn't some post-nut fantasy.
Besides, it was not a lie.
Chakra was life—literally. It flowed through blood, breath, bone. It healed, strengthened, prolonged. It made our bodies more efficient, our drives sharper.
Even our seed. A shinobi's sperm wasn't just fertile—it was potent. Saturated with life-force and vitality. Pregnancies hit harder and faster.
Thus why I had been so careful not to spill on any woman before that night with Anko.
"Don't speak ill of my husbands." Tsunami's eyes flashed with genuine anger. "They were good men who worked hard and loved their families. Just because I — we…. doesn't make them—"
I cut her off by wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against me in one swift motion. Her light, naked body came easily, surprisingly so—I'd forgotten how small she actually was beneath all that maternal presence.
The feel of her bare skin against my clothed chest made me immediately regret not stripping down earlier.
She gasped at the sudden pull, her hands instinctively flying up to brace against my shoulders. The soft curves of her breasts pressed against my shirt.
"That wasn't my intention," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "But I'm a possessive man. Tends to make me jealous, even of ghosts."
She made a small attempt to free herself but soon gave up. She let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years. Her resistance melted away as she sagged against me, suddenly looking every one of her years.
"I am cursed," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Every man who gets close to me... my first husband drowned in a storm. My second died of fever. My father-in-law worked himself to death trying to support us all." Her fingers tightened on my shoulders. "Men who try to carry my burdens end up buried by them. What if you vanish too, like all the others? One more name I light incense for?"
The vulnerability in her voice, the genuine fear that she might be the cause of more loss…. she sounded so convinced that she was cursed. And damn me, but I wanted to prove her wrong.
I smiled, letting my hand trace soothing circles on her lower back. "I'm not the type to give up easily. Death's tried to collect me more times than I can count, but I'm still here." My other hand settled on her thigh, thumb stroking along the soft skin. "Besides, you think a curse is stronger than a man who just claimed you? I'd like to see it try."
The confidence in my words—not arrogant, just matter-of-fact—seemed to settle something in her. I watched the shift happen in her eyes, fear giving way to something warmer, more hopeful.
With gentle pressure from my hands, I helped guide her as she shifted to straddle my lap. Her legs parted to accommodate my hips, legs on each side, and when she settled fully, her slick pussy came to rest directly along the length of my hard cock.
The contact made her breath hitch. For the first time since I'd entered her home, she looked down between us—really looked—taking in the sight of my shaft pressed against her sensitive flesh.
"Oh my," she breathed, her voice carrying that particular mix of shock and fascination that only a modest older woman could manage. "You're still... how are you still so..." She trailed off, unable to voice the crude observation, but her meaning was clear. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in my size properly for the first time. "I've never... that is, neither of my husbands was quite so... substantial."
I could help the proud smile on my face. Those were words any man would be over the moon to hear.
One of her hands moved tentatively toward my cock, fingertips barely grazing the swollen head with obvious curiosity and apprehension.
"…. no wonder I could barely breath, " she muttered barely above a whisper.
"That's my curse," I said with mock solemnity. "An insatiable appetite for beautiful women. A tragic life it was. I try to resist, truly I do, but when faced with someone as captivating as you..." I let my voice trail off dramatically. "I suppose it's fortunate I've learned to manage multiple... commitments."
The implication hung in the air between us—elegant enough to avoid crudeness but clear in its meaning. If I were taking her with me, I wasn't about to sugarcoat the terms. I wasn't going to lie. That's not my style. I might let the truth breathe in the corner for a while, but I don't bury it. Not with women I intend to keep.
I braced for anger, jealousy, some kind of moral outrage. Instead, she just looked mildly amused and resigned.
"I suppose a promising young shinobi like yourself would naturally attract... attention," she said carefully, her tone carrying that particular wisdom of a woman who understood how the world worked. "It would be stranger if someone with your talents didn't have admirers competing for your affections."
That wasn't the reaction I'd expected at all.
She must have noticed my surprise because she smiled—the first genuine, warm smile I'd seen from her. Her hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing along my jawline with maternal tenderness.
"You're willing to burden yourself with a worn-out widow and her son when no one asked you to," she said softly. "When you could have anyone, you want to take responsibility for the castoffs no one else would claim. Any woman who shares your life should count herself fortunate. You have a good heart, even if you try to hide it behind all those crude words."
Her words shouldn't have meant anything. Not to someone like me. But they did. Not because I believed her. I didn't. They were wrong. She was wrong. Still, hearing it—having someone look at the scum I was and insist there was something worth holding on to—felt good in a way I hated to admit.
Like a kindness I hadn't earned but still wanted to keep.
But then again scums often take what was not theirs; I should not be bothered by it.
Drove by need and urges, I grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands and lifted her up. She was so light it was almost effortless, her body coming off my lap as I positioned her over my throbbing cock.
"Wait," she breathed, eyes going wide as she realized my intention. "I can't... not again. I'm too tired, too sore..."
But I was already lowering her, guiding her down until the swollen head of my shaft pressed against her entrance. She was still so wet from our previous coupling—slick with my cum and her own arousal—that despite her protests, her body accepted me readily.
"I can't believe…" she gasped as I penetrated her slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Her pussy was even more sensitive now, still swollen and tender from being thoroughly used. Every bit of my length stretching her drew soft whimpers from her throat.
Whimpers, she was barely attempting to hide. Progress? I hoped.
Her mouth worked soundlessly like a fish as I filled her, lips parting on silent moans while her eyes fluttered shut. The feel of her tight heat enveloping me again—made even slicker by my previous load still coating her walls—was absolutely incredible.
When I finally buried myself and bottomed her, she dropped her head forward with a shuddering breath, fingers clutching desperately at my shoulders as she struggled to adjust to being filled again so soon.
I let her have a moment, savoring the exquisite sensation of her pussy gripping my cock, warm and wet and perfectly molded around me. The mix of my cum and her arousal made every small movement slick and effortless, but still snugly tight.
Eventually, she raised her head, and I couldn't help but smile at the dazed, overwhelmed expression on her flushed face.
"Let me show you exactly how much attention I plan to give you," I murmured, hands tightening possessively on her ass.
She looked resigned and a little frightened, her dark eyes wide with the realization of what she'd gotten herself into.
"I don't think I'll survive your so much attention," she whispered.
"Oh, don't worry. You'll learn to handle my attention in Konoha," I said, my voice carrying that quiet authority that brooked no argument. "Where I can take proper care of you. Both of you."
The finality in my tone made it clear this wasn't a request or suggestion—it was a decision already made.
She stayed silent for a long moment, her eyes searching my face as if looking for some sign I might change my mind. When she found only unwavering determination, her expression softened into something almost relieved and a bit ashamed.
A shy smile flickered at the corner of her lips. She lowered her gaze, not out of coyness, but with that practiced humility women of her generation were raised on.
"I have no youth left to offer. No future in my belly. No dowry, no dreams. Only a worn body, and whatever quiet care remains in these hands." Her voice trembled at the edges but held. "I may only be a burden to you, but if you truly insist… then I will follow. I will place myself and my son in your care—however long you'll have us."
She bowed slightly, barely enough to notice. "Kashikomarimashita."
Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
In two lives, I have never heard nicer words. The rush of victory that surged through was intoxicating—pure conquest singing in my blood. She was mine now. This beautiful, broken woman who'd survived so much heartache was choosing to trust me with her future.
"Good," I murmured, hands tightening on her ass as I shifted slightly inside her, earning a soft gasp. "Now tell me—what do you think about testing just how barren that womb of yours really is?"
She started to open her mouth, probably to voice some self-deprecating comment, but stopped when she saw the warning look in my eyes.
Instead, she lowered her gaze again, color flooding her cheeks. "If that is what you wish…. I will not question your will. Just… don't be disappointed if this body can no longer give you what a younger woman might."
This oddly sounds like a challenge, doesn't it?
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