The vivid, explicit, and absolutely filthy picture surfaced, but I mentally swiped it away.
As good as it would be—and fuck, it would be transcendent—I couldn't afford the risk. Mebuki was a walking liability. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and she'd undo every carefully laid thread of conditioning I'd woven around her daughter.
"I appreciate your... enthusiasm," I said carefully, choosing my words like I was defusing a trap. "But Sakura's been through a lot today. I don't want her to feel pressured into something she's not ready for—"
It was a weak argument, and I knew it. My conviction was about as solid as wet tissue paper, and Mebuki sensed the hesitation immediately.
"Oh, Eishin-sama, you worry too much! I'm her mother," she practically purred, her green eyes dancing with mischief. "I would never pressure her into anything she can't handle." She turned her gaze to Sakura, her green eyes gleaming. "Besides, if she's going to be a real kunoichi worthy of our teachings, she needs to learn how to deal with all kinds of situations. And honestly? This is a far better learning experience than hiding in a closet like a frightened mouse."
She paused, tilting her head, and her expression shifted into something challenging. "Besides... you spoke so highly of her just now. As her mother, I admit, I'm a bit... curious. I'd like to see that for myself. I'd like to see how amazing my little girl has become." She turned fully to Sakura now, her voice dripping with challenge. "Isn't that right, Sakura? You'll show your mother what a talented kunoichi you are, won't you? You'll prove that your sensei's confidence in you wasn't misplaced. Or... will you flee this opportunity like you used to do?"
Sakura bit her lip, her hands clenching at her sides. She didn't answer. She couldn't. Refuse, and she proved her mother right about being a child; accept, and she stepped into a world she wasn't remotely prepared for.
Mebuki didn't wait for an answer. She took the silence as agreement.
She wobbled over to me on unsteady legs, her naked titls jiggling slightly with each step, and with absolutely no prompting, sank to her knees. Her daughter's eyes went wide, horrified fascination locking her gaze onto her mother.
"I'll admit, Eishin-sama," Mebuki began, her voice taking on the syrupy, instructional tone of a mother giving advice, "His member is... intimidating. It's bigger than anything I've ever come across. Frightening, even. But the good news is, if you train on this, nothing will find will ever be challenging. That said, you'll learn, sweetheart," she glanced back at Sakura, "The bigger the challenge, the greater the reward. Even if Eishin-sama's size tramples a woman's pride... surrender brings its own sort of victory."
The mother leaned forward, shamelessly uncaring of her daughter watching, she kissed the very tip of my cock with a wet smack, then murmured directly to it, her breath hot against the sensitive skin. "Are you ready to give me your essence, darling? Or did I miss my chance earlier?"
She giggled—a sound that should not have come from a middle-aged mother kneeling naked in front of her teenage daughter.
Sakura's expression was a storm of conflicting emotions.
Shock. Embarrassment. Disgust. Fascination.
She covered her mouth with one hand, muffling a small gasp, her other arm wrapping around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together. Her thighs pressed together so tight I could see the muscles trembling through her black shorts, her knees wobbling slightly. She looked like she wanted to bolt, to scream, to cover her eyes—but she didn't. She couldn't. Her eyes kept drifting back, drawn to the obscene tableau in front of her like a moth to a flame.
The improper urge to watch was fighting a losing war against her proper upbringing. Duty versus desire. Innocence versus intrigue.
And the improper side was winning.
The mother continued her lecture, her tone conversational, like she was teaching her daughter how to properly fold laundry.
"Now, Sakura," she said, her eyes never leaving my shaft, "the best way to prepare a man like Eishin-sama is with your mouth. But you have to listen. You have to let him guide you."
My gaze drifted from the daughter to the mother. Mebuki looked up at me with a mischievous glint that should not have been on the face of a woman her age. She reached out to grab my shaft, then stopped herself mid-motion.
"Oh, right," she giggled, pulling her hands back. "Eishin-sama prefers his partners to be... compliant." She dutifully locked her hands behind her back again. "Using your hands is easy, but using your mouth? That's the superior method. It's cleaner. More intimate."
Then she leaned forward and pressed her face against my cock.
Not her mouth. Her face.
She rubbed her cheek against the shaft, smearing her ruined makeup across my skin, nuzzling it awkwardly like she was trying to suck me but couldn't quite manage without her hands. It was pathetic. Degrading. Hot as hell.
A wife. A middle-aged mother. Degrading herself in front of her own daughter.
I exhaled hard through my nose, my cock twitching against her cheek.
Eventually, she leaned back, clicking her tongue in frustration. "Tch. It's difficult without hands to hold it steady." She turned her head slightly, peering over her shoulder at Sakura. "Sakura, come here," she ordered. "Help your mother."
I considered intervening. I really did. I knew exactly where this manipulation was leading, and part of me wanted to stop it. But another part, the part that was currently throbbing in Mebuki's face, wanted to see just how far she could push.
But Sakura took a shaky step back, shaking her head. "I—I can't. This isn't—this isn't right, Mom. I can't just—"
Mebuki sighed heavily, her expression shifting into disappointment. "Honestly, Sakura, this prudish act is beneath you. You're fifteen, not five. Grow up. Bodies are bodies. Needs are needs. If you're too immature to handle this, maybe you're too immature to be a shinobi. A medical one, least of all."
The words hit their mark. I saw Sakura's spine straighten, her chin lift defensively. Her pride—her desperate need to be seen as capable, as an adult—flared up. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. I could see the war playing out behind her eyes. Pride versus shame, duty versus disgust.
Then she looked at me.
I expected a plea for help. A silent plea to save her from this madness.
But it wasn't.
It was a look for permission.
My resolve wavered.
"You don't have to do this if you're not comfortable, Sakura," I said, my voice sounding lukewarm even to my own ears.
My student held my gaze for a long moment, her pretty green eyes searching mine. Then she shook her head.
"I already told you, Sensei," she said quietly, her voice trembling but steady. "I don't want comfort. I can handle anything you throw at me."
She walked toward us—hesitant, stiff, like she was walking to the gallows. She paused beside her mother, taking a deep breath. "I'm not a child who needs to be coddled," she muttered, though the conviction wavered as she sank down.
She crouched beside her mother, her knees not touching the floor.
And then she stopped.
Face to face with my cock.
Whatever brave speech she had planned died in her throat. Her eyes went impossibly wide. Her breath hitched, catching in her chest. She looked fascinated. Breathless. Scared. Curious. Up close, the reality of it, the size, the veins, the scent of sex and arousal, must be overwhelming.
I understood the reaction. I was breathless too.
The sight was... obscene.
Mother and daughter, kneeling side by side before me. The contrast was staggering—Mebuki, naked, ruined, needy; Sakura, clothed, fresh, terrified but determined.
I was a horny bastard, yeah. But I'd never been into threesomes. I disliked splitting my focus. I liked to devote all my attention to one woman, to drown her in pleasure until she forgot her own name. But for this? For this specific tableau? I could make an exception.
This might be the exception.
"I knew you'd come around," she purred, sounding like a satisfied cat. "See? Was that so hard?"
She shifted slightly, nudging Sakura with her shoulder. "Take off your gloves, sweetheart. The skin there is sensitive. You don't want to chafe him with that rough leather."
Sakura blinked, shaking herself out of her trance. She pulled off her black gloves slowly, revealing pale, slender hands.
Mebuki's smile stretched wider. "Now, see those red marks? That's my lipstick. That's how far I was able to take him." She laughed lightly, almost sheepishly. "I got a bit enthusiastic, and Eishin-sama is... generous. I could barely reach the middle! Can you believe it? Ah, I wish I could handle more, but, well... I'm not as young as I used to be."
She gestured toward the base of my cock, where her lipstick hadn't reached. "Grab him by the base, below where the marks end. Hold him steady for me so I can work properly. Be a good girl and help your mother."
Sakura hesitated. She held her bare hands up, hovering them inches from my skin, feeling the heat radiating off me. But she didn't grab me. Instead, she looked up at me, her green eyes wide and uncertain, framed by that long pink hair.
She was cute. Unbearably cute. Kneeling there, her soft thighs pressed together, her lips parted slightly, her face flushed.
"…. Sensei," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "C-can I….?"
The good girl. She already understood the hierarchy perfectly. Mother might give the orders, but I gave the permission.
I gave her a small nod.
Sakura swallowed hard, her throat bobbing visibly, and then, slowly, carefully, she wrapped her fingers around the base of my cock.
It was her first time touching a dick. You could tell immediately. Her grip was unsure, barely making contact at first, as if she expected me to be made of glass or fire. Her slender fingers curled around the thick shaft, and even then, they didn't quite meet on the other side. My cock looked massive against her small, pale hand, a monolith of veins and heat, dwarfing her inexperienced touch.
She stared at it, green eyes wide with genuine scientific fascination, trying to adjust her grip to get a good hold without squeezing too hard.
The sensation of her soft, cool palm against my feverishly hot skin was electric. My cock jumped in her hand, twitching violently in response to the fresh contact.
Sakura gasped and snatched her hand back as if she'd been burned. She looked up at me, panic flashing across her face.
"Did—did I do it wrong?" she squeaked. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Sensei!"
Mebuki chuckled, an amused, throaty sound that was entirely inappropriate for a mother watching her daughter handle a penis.
"Oh, silly girl. You didn't do anything wrong. Quite the opposite, actually." She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "That just shows how much Eishin-sama loves your touch. See? You're already making him happy." She paused, her smile widening. "The fact that you didn't even know that just proves how much you need this lesson, doesn't it?"
Reassured, or at least less terrified, Sakura returned her hand to my shaft. This time, she held it more confidently, though her movements were still tentative. She gave it a soft squeeze, then another, her fingers exploring the ridges and veins with cautious curiosity.
"It's so... hard," she murmured under her breath, her voice distant and dreamy. She traced a vein with her thumb, entranced and fascinated by this forbidden new discovery.. "But it's warm, too. Deceptively smooth. And it's... it's pulsing."
Mebuki watched her daughter's acclimation with a satisfied, almost proud smile, her ruined makeup crinkling at the corners of her eyes.
Eventually, Sakura wrapped her hand more firmly around the base and gave it a tentative, awkward pump. Sliding her hand up an inch, then back down. She looked up at me through her lashes, her cheeks flushed pink.
"Does... does that feel good, Sensei?"
My smile stretched wide.
Sakura Haruno had come a long way. From a prude, stubborn, fiery girl, an annoying brat who slapped Naruto for perverted jokes, to kneeling before me, pumping my cock with wide, doe-like eyes, asking if she was doing a good job.
This suited her so well. She looked so fucking beautiful right now.
I placed my hand on her head, threading my fingers through her long pink hair, and patted her gently.
"It feels incredible, Sakura," I lied. It felt fine, but her technique was not there yet. "You have a natural talent for this. Very attentive."
Her face lit up, but her brows furrowed as if she knew she should be smiling at this yet, that forwnes disolved as she beamed as I'd just complimented her taijutsu form. She smiled genuinely, innocently and gave me another pump. Then another. They were clumsy, uncoordinated, but she kept her big green eyes locked on mine the entire time, like she needed to see my reaction, needed the validation that she was pleasing me. And that was fucking hot.
Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because her gaze softened, her eyes darkened slightly, and her pupils dilated slightly.
We both started breathing harder. The air between us thickened with tension as master and student held eye contact while the student stroked her teacher's cock with trembling, inexperienced hands.
Mebuki chuckled from the side, breaking the moment.
"My, my," she cooed, her tone dripping with condescension. "You are lucky Eishin-sama is so considerate, sweetheart. He's being very thoughtful, praising such beginner efforts. But let's be honest... just using your hand with that clumsy, inexperienced technique?" She sighed dramatically. "That won't cut it for a man of his caliber. Eishin-sama requires more... dedication."
Sakura blinked, her hand freezing mid-stroke. She turned to look at her mother, confusion and embarrassment warring on her face.
"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly, her voice tinged with frustration but open—oh so open—to instruction. "What... what else am I supposed to do?"
Mebuki's smile curled at the edges. "More, sweetheart. Give him more." She gestured vaguely toward my crotch with her chin. "Why don't you try giving it a little kiss, dear?" she said casually. "Just to show your appreciation."
Sakura recoiled slightly, her eyes widening. "A—a kiss?" She bit her lip, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red. "I... Mom, that's... I don't think I can—" She looked from her mother to my dick and back again. "That's weird. Isn't it?"
The kneeling middle-aged woman made a sound of displeasure, rolling her eyes. "Moo, Sakura, you are such a child sometimes. Look at it!" She nodded emphatically at my erection. "Look at how hard it is. Can't you see how painful that must be? All that pressure, building up... A simple kiss would provide immense relief. It's a gesture of comfort. Are you really so selfish that you'd deny him even that? Are you truly worthy of being his student if you aren't even willing to provide him with basic relief?"
I had to admire the play. It was clinical. Ruthless. She was weaponizing Sakura's insecurities, her pride, her desperate need to be seen as capable, and reframing sexual acts as medical necessity or dutiful service.
I stayed silent, however, watching. This was my strategy now. Let Mebuki do the heavy lifting, and if things went sideways, I'd throw her under the bus. Besides, it was fucking hot, watching a mother manipulatevely nudge her daughter into servicing me.
Of course, none of this would've worked if I hadn't already conditioned Sakura over the past month. But for now, I was content to sit back and enjoy the Haruno family service.
Sakura's defensive posture crumbled. The argument about "worthiness" always hit her hard.
She mumbled something under her breath as she stared at my cock for a long moment, her lips parting slightly. Then, squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned forward and pressed a quick, chaste peck to the base, right where her mother's lipstick hadn't reached.
Her lips were soft, hesitant, and barely there.
She pulled back immediately, her face burning. "There. Happy?"
I had a fleeting thought about how kissing my dick had become weirdly normalized lately. Ino had done it. Sakura was doing it now. Even Naruko had done it, though I actively tried not to think about the latter.
Mebuki sighed, shaking her head in half-hearted disappointment. "Dear, it's not me you should be asking."
Sakura flinched, glancing up at me with apologetic eyes, like she'd committed some mistake.
I just patted her head again, a silent reassurance.
Mebuki shook her head, her expression softening into that practiced maternal mask. "I understand, sweetheart. You've never done this before. It's intimidating. And that's why I'm here." She shifted closer, her naked body pressing against Sakura's clothed side. "Watch how Mother handles a man of his stature. See how I use my mouth…. my respect. Learn. And when you're ready, you can try. Together, we'll make sure Eishin-sama is properly taken care of."
Sakura blinked, processing her mother's words. "Wait, what do you mean—"
But Mebuki didn't respond. She couldn't.
The middle-aged woman lunged forward, her mouth engulfing the head of my cock with aggressive enthusiasm. She gagged immediately, her mouth stuffed and full, but she didn't stop. She immediately started bobbing her head violently, forcing herself down on me with a hunger that was almost frightening.
Sakura reeled back at the sudden aggression, her eyes wide. "Mom!"
But then, seeing her mother struggling to keep a steady rhythm without the use of her hands, Sakura recovered quickly. The instinct to assist, to be useful, overrode the shock.
Her hand tightened around the base, holding me steady so her mother could choke on it better.
Mebuki didn't waste time.
She went at me with the desperate, sloppy enthusiasm of a woman trying to secure a life insurance policy with her tongue. Her head bobbed frantically, her wet, bruised lips sliding up and down my shaft, making obscene, slurping noises that filled the small hotel room. She gagged on the depth, choked on the girth, but she didn't stop. She treated my cock like it was the only source of oxygen in the room.
Sakura flinched at first, her hand tightening reflexively around the base as her mother's aggression startled her. But she didn't let go. She held me steady, her grip firm despite the trembling in her fingers.
She was getting used to her role.
She looked at me furtively at first, stealing glances through her lashes. But when she found me looking back, not with judgment but with heavy-lidded encouragement, she relaxed. She started looking up boldly, checking for my reactions, searching for signs of pleasure.
I reached down and placed my hand on her head, threading my fingers through her long pink hair, petting her gently.
Her breath hitched. Her pupils dilated.
She liked it.
The dynamic was intoxicating. A mother choking on my dick, slobbering all over the head, while her teenage daughter held the base and leaned into my touch like a kitten. The heat radiating off them was intoxicating.
Then I noticed it.
Sakura's free hand was gripping her own thigh. Hard. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh just above her knee-high boots, squeezing rhythmically, pinching the exposed skin of her inner thigh just below the fabric of her black shorts.
She was getting turned on. The taboo, the proximity to sex, the degradation of her mother—it was flipping switches she didn't even know she had.
My cock throbbed hard in Mebuki's mouth.
Our eyes locked. She froze as she realized I was looking at her hand on her thigh. Her face flushed a brilliant, guilty crimson, and she started to pull her hand away.
But I just smiled and gave her a small, imperceptible nod and kept stroking her hair. It's fine. You're allowed to like it.
She bit her lip, her eyes flicking away briefly in embarrassment, but then—slowly, hesitantly—she returned her gaze to mine. And slowly, deliberately, she put her hand back on her thigh and resumed her own search for pleasure. Her fingers restarted their grip, pinching and kneading the soft flesh of her thighs, her breathing growing heavier with each passing second.
Good girl.
Mebuki, oblivious to the silent exchange above her, pushed herself to the limit. She forced herself down as far as she could go, her throat convulsing violently around the head of my cock. She held herself there—five seconds, ten, fifteen—until her body demanded air.
She ripped herself off with a wet pop, coughing and sputtering, saliva dripping from her chin in thick strings.
"Hands!" she wheezed, pointing a shaking finger at Sakura. "Both hands! Don't let him... cough... don't let him soften while I... recover. We can't lose the... progress."
Sakura blinked, startled by the sudden command. "But I—"
"Now, Sakura!"
Oddly enough, the brat didn't object. The order gave her permission to act on the urge she'd been suppressing. She removed her hand from her thigh, shifted her weight entirely onto her knees, and wrapped both hands around my shaft.
And then she started pumping.
Her movements were clumsy, uncoordinated, but earnest. She kept her big green eyes locked on my face, watching for every twitch, every subtle shift in expression, desperate to know if she was doing it right.
"Faster," Mebuki urged from the side, still catching her breath. "Tighter grip. Twist your wrists slightly on the upstroke—yes, like that, but more. You're losing the momentum I built. You need to keep him on the edge, Sakura, or all my work will be for nothing."
Sakura tried to follow the instructions, adjusting her grip, increasing her speed, but it was never enough.
"No, no, you're losing it," Mebuki hissed, frustration creeping into her voice. "You need to do more. The skin needs moisture. Warmth. Kiss it. Put your lips on it. Show some initiative!"
"W-wait—what—" Sakura hesitated, the rhythm of her hands faltering. "That is not—how can y—"
"Do it!" Mebuki urged, clapping her hands once. "You've done it before. What's one more time, huh? Don't be such a coward."
Sakura bit her lip, then leaned forward and pressed a shy peck to the purple head of my cock.
My hips bucked involuntarily. My dick throbbed, hard and demanding, against her lips.
"Yes!" Mebuki cheered, sounding like a soccer mom watching her kid score a goal. "See? Nothing to be scared of. He reacted instantly! Look at that twitch! You're a natural, sweetheart."
Sakura stared at the head of my cock, fascinated. "It... it moved," she whispered, almost to herself. "I made it do that."
"Of course you did," Mebuki cooed. "You're responding to his needs. That's good. That's what a proper student does."
Sakura pulled back a fraction, staring at the glans like it was an alien artifact. "It... it smells," she mumbled, half in a trance. "Strong. Musky. Like... iron and salt."
She wrinkled her cute little nose, scrunching it up in a way that was irritatingly adorable.
"Of course it does. That's the scent of a powerful man, dear," Mebuki said matter-of-factly. "Now kiss it again. More this time. Don't be shy. Can't leave him hanging after all of that. Use your lips properly."
Sakura hesitated again.
Mebuki sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, Sakura... I'm jealous. I have to work so hard to get that kind of reaction, and you get it with a simple peck? You have such potential, yet you squander it acting like a frightened child. Use your assets. Use your softness."
Whether it was the challenge to her abilities or just the hypnotic atmosphere of the room, Sakura gave in. She leaned back in, pressing her lips against the slit, then trailing kisses down the shaft as her hands pumped.
It was amateurish—teeth grazing me occasionally, rhythm off-beat—but she was learning. She scrunched her cute little nose again, like she was still adjusting to the scent and taste, but she didn't stop. She was getting the hang of the coordination, her inhibition melting away with every second.
Mebuki beamed, turning up to me with a proprietary air.
"Isn't she wonderful, Eishin-sama?" The middle-aged woman gushed, gesturing to her daughter like a merchant displaying fine silk. "So eager to learn. She may not be experienced, but she's young, flexible, and willing. Doesn't that count for something? Don't you just love how devoted she is?"
Sakura stiffened. She stopped pumping, pulling back with a scowl. "Mom, I'm not—"
"Hush!" Mebuki cut her off, placing a hand on the back of Sakura's head and pushing her face back against my cock. "Focus, dear. Your sensei needs you. You were making progress; don't ruin it with such a brash attitude."
Sakura's eyes flashed—I recognized that look. She was about to lash out.
But I intervened.
I placed my hand over Mebuki's, gently stroking Sakura's hair, and spoke softly. "You're doing very well, Sakura. I'm proud of you."
The praise hit her like a drug. The anger drained out of her instantly, replaced by that needy, validation-seeking look I was coming to love. She leaned into my hand, then turned back to my dick with renewed vigor, kissing and pumping enthusiastically to prove she deserved the compliment.
Mebuki watched for a moment, then looked up at me.
"She is doing well indeed, but I'm starting to wonder…."Her expression sly. "Is this enough for you, Eishin-sama?"
I recognized the setup immediately. She was escalating. I could've ignored it. Could've ended this here.
But I didn't. It felt too good to stop here.
I shook my head slowly, looking down at Sakura with feigned disappointment. "Unfortunately... hands are rarely enough to finish the job. Not after what you started."
Mebuki nodded sagely. "I thought as much." She turned back to Sakura, her voice dropping into that manipulative, saccharine tone. "Did you hear that, sweetheart? Your sensei says it's not enough. It seems... you'll have to use your mouth properly now."
Sakura jerked back, her eyes wide. "What? No! Why me? I can't—I mean, kissing is one thing, but—I've never done that! It's not right! I can't just—"
"It's alright," Mebuki interrupted smoothly. "Neither your sensei nor I expect much from you. You just need to do your best. You don't have to be as... thorough as I was. Just keep it warm. Keep it wet. That's all. I'll take over again once I've caught my breath. You can do that, can't you? Or are you going to fail your sensei now?"
Sakura hesitated, her hands frozen on my shaft, her face pale.
Mebuki clicked her tongue. "I didn't remember raising a quitter. Don't embarrass me—and yourself—in front of Eishin-sama. C'mon, open your mouth."
Sakura bit her lip hard, her jaw clenching. Then, after what felt like an eternity. "This is... this is so messed up," she muttered under her breath. "Fine," she huffed, a small, petulant sound of displeasure that hides how she truly felt. "But just... just for a minute. Just to hold it."
Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut, as if blocking out the visual would make it less real. She leaned forward, inch by agonizing inch, her breath hot against my skin.
Mebuki sighed in exasperation. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Sakura, you're taking forever."
Before Sakura could react, Mebuki placed her hand on the back of her daughter's head.
"Here. Let me help you."
And then she shoved.
Sakura's eyes flew open in shock as her innocent, virgin mouth was forcibly impaled on my cock, her lips stretching wide, her throat convulsing as the head pushed past her tongue and lodged itself against the back of her throat.
"Ghhhk!"
The student gagged violently on her first cock, her teacher's cock.
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