Chapter 134: Prelude
True to her nature as a mature working adult, Kasumi quickly adjusted her mindset and regained her composed, elder demeanor.
Crossing her arms, she scrutinized her two daughters and asked, "So, when did the two of you get together with Haruto?"
"Mom, rather than being curious about that, we hope you're mentally prepared for what we're about to tell you?" Ayame chirped, mischievously clinging to Haruto's other arm.
Kasumi paused, then tentatively asked, "You... are pregnant? Or is it Sayuri?"
"What do you mean 'got it'?"
The Takamine Sisters exchanged glances, not understanding what she was referring to.
"I mean... am I going to be a mo..."
Ahem.
Haruto coughed twice, cutting off the topic. Given his relationship with Kasumi, continuing this discussion would cross into forbidden territory.
Being still young, he had never considered the matter of children, and now he had no intention of letting the three women of the Takamine family bear his offspring.
No matter who ended up pregnant with his child, it would be a very troublesome situation.
"Kasumi-nee, you don't need to worry about children."
Haruto glanced at Kasumi's slightly smaller abdomen. It seemed she hadn't just cleaned her external body in the bath earlier—she had thoroughly cleaned inside as well. However, the essence that had reached the deepest parts still hadn't been completely expelled.
"Ah?" Kasumi froze for a moment, and strange thoughts began to emerge again. She worriedly asked, "Haruto... could there be something wrong with your body? When did you find out?"
Haruto's face darkened with frustration, but he didn't know where to begin explaining. From a normal person's perspective, Kasumi's assumption was actually quite reasonable.
"Ayame-nee, Yuri-nee, could you explain it to Kasumi-nee?"
Haruto massaged his forehead and sighed. "By the way, to avoid complications, from now on Kasumi-nee and I will address each other as peers."
"Eh?!" Ayame protested discontentedly. "In that case, I should call you sister too! Otherwise, Haruto would be a generation older than me."
Sayuri remained silent, her gaze fixed on Haruto's naked body. Her thoughts had long since wandered to who-knows-where.
Compared to the open-minded Ayame, Sayuri—who preferred to keep her lewd thoughts hidden in her mind—was actually more lustful.
Faced with her eldest daughter's request, Kasumi shrugged indifferently. Having already become one with her daughter's boyfriend, what did she care about titles anymore?
Besides, being called "sister" by teenagers was far better than being called "auntie."
Some lively and beautiful married women even actively requested their own children to call them "sister."
Like the mother of a certain eternal elementary school detective.
Ayame excitedly kissed Haruto. "Yay~"
"Ayame-nee, stop fooling around. Please explain things to Kasumi-nee."
Haruto pushed her toward Kasumi while pulling over Sayuri, whose pretty face was flushed and whose beautiful eyes were fixed intently on him.
"I'll feed Yuri-nee first, otherwise she won't hear anything we say."
Kasumi looked at her youngest daughter, observing the pink hearts shimmering in her eyes, and for the first time realized that the quiet and virtuous Sayuri was actually so unsatisfied deep inside.
A soft, yearning sigh escaped Sayuri's lips, her body arching slightly towards Haruto as if pulled by an invisible string of desire.
While kneading Sayuri's soft yet firm breasts, Haruto captured her pink lips in a deep kiss.
A muffled moan vibrated from Sayuri's throat into his, her hands, which had been nervously clutching the sheets, now rising to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.
"Mom... no, Kasumi-nee. It's quite hard to break a habit of over ten years just that."
Haruto finally broke the kiss, a silvery thread of saliva briefly connecting their lips before snapping, and Sayuri's head fell back onto the pillow, her chest heaving.
Ayame wrapped her arms around Kasumi's slender waist, snuggling close to her dear mother. "Don't look over there. What I'm about to tell you is even more exciting than Haruto and Sayuri's dual cultivation."
Kasumi could feel the heat of her daughter's body through the thin fabric of her yukata, a stark contrast to the cool, composed facade she was trying to maintain.
Under Haruto's influence, the girls had gradually begun referring to lovemaking as "dual cultivation."
The term itself was a delicious paradox, cloaking raw, primal need in the respectable robes of spiritual pursuit, and it thrilled them to use it.
Not only did it sound more proper, but it was also factual—and it gave them an excuse to mask their inner longing for Haruto under the pretense of cultivation.
"Dual cultivation," Ayame would whisper in Haruto's ear, her voice a husky promise, and he would know exactly what she truly meant.
Kasumi composed herself, resisting the urge to look at her younger daughter who had already been stripped bare by Haruto like a snow-white lamb.
But her peripheral vision caught the pale, trembling form of Sayuri, and a flush crept up her own neck. The air grew thick with the scent of blooming skin and quickening breath.
Since her daughters had grown up, it had been a long time since she had seen their bodies. She never imagined they had developed such alluring figures.
Sayuri's body was a masterpiece of youthful perfection, each curve a deliberate temptation, and Kasumi felt a strange, hot curl of pride and envy twist in her belly.
Large breasts, slender waists, perky buttocks, beautiful legs - even as a mature woman, she found these to be incredibly seductive proportions. No wonder Haruto couldn't resist making a move.
Her own body, though still beautiful, felt suddenly aware of its years in the presence of such ripe, untouched fruit.
Haruto's hand caressed Sayuri's lustering lavender ponytail, then trailed down her soft, smooth back, continuing to wander over her firm thighs and rounded buttocks with gentle strokes.
His touch was both possessive and worshipful, mapping every dip and curve of her body as if committing it to memory, each stroke drawing a faint, shimmering trail of goosebumps on her skin.
Occasionally, like a curious mischievous child, his fingers would tentatively slip into the crevice between her snow-white buttocks, carefully exploring the girl's most mysterious triangular region. Before long, he found the incredibly moist and smooth flower valley.
A sharp, gasping intake of breath from Sayuri confirmed his discovery, her hips twitching involuntarily against his questing hand, her slickness coating his fingers.
Haruto began stroking Sayuri's petals, making final preparations for the dragon's entry.
He circled her swollen, sensitive clit with a maddening lightness, making her whimper and buck, before dipping a finger into her dripping entrance, stretching her gently, preparing her for the thick, hard length of him.
While things were heating up on that side, the situation with Ayame was equally intense.
Ayame's breath hitched as she watched, her own core clenching in sympathetic rhythm, a damp patch already forming on her own yukata.
Watching the flames emerging from the pink-haired beauty's palm, Kasumi initially thought her eyes were deceiving her. Even with Ayame's repeated explanations, she remained half-convinced, half-doubtful.
The heat from the flame was real, licking at the air, and Kasumi could feel its warmth against her cheek, a tangible impossibility that challenged everything she knew.
An adult's worldview is much harder to change than that of an adolescent girl. It was difficult to alter the beautiful widow's thirty-plus years of understanding about the world.
She clutched at the fabric of her yukata, her mind a storm of denial and awe, the foundations of her reality cracking like thin ice.
Kasumi kept searching her eldest daughter's body, trying to find magic props, which made Ayame giggle uncontrollably.
Her hands pat down Ayame's sides, under her arms, along the generous swell of her breasts, searching for wires, for projectors, for anything that could explain the miracle.
"Mom, don't... there is... hahaha... so ticklish..."
Ayame squirmed, her laughter a bright, bubbling sound that contrasted with the heavy, rhythmic wet sounds beginning to emanate from the other side of the room.
After a while, the disheveled Ayame collapsed onto the bed, while Kasumi stared blankly at the small flame dancing in her own palm.
The flame was a part of her, an extension of her will, and it pulsed in time with her quickening heartbeat, a seductive new power thrumming in her veins.
Having failed to find any magic props, and considering how serious Haruto and the others had been earlier, she tried the method Ayame had described. Surprisingly, she easily detected the special light particles floating in the air.
They were like golden dust motes, swirling in the air, drawn to the heat of her confusion and her latent desire, answering a call she didn't know she was making.
Remembering the flames Ayame had produced, she focused her will, and the magical energy spontaneously changed form, creating flames that continuously danced in her palm.
The control was instinctual, as natural as breathing, and a thrill of pure, unadulterated power shot through her, more intoxicating than any wine.
The three watching them were somewhat surprised, particularly the Takamine sisters. They had struggled greatly just to get started with magic, taking a full three days to successfully cast their first spell.
A low, guttural groan from Haruto mixed with Sayuri's high-pitched cry as he sheathed himself fully inside her, the carnal act now a stark counterpoint to Kasumi's mystical awakening.
"It seems Sister Kasumi has remarkable magical talent," Haruto remarked perfunctorily amidst his busy activities. Having known beforehand about Kasumi's innate affinity for magic, his surprise lasted only a moment before he stopped thinking about it.
His attention was fully reclaimed by the tight, wet heat gripping him, his hips setting a slow, deep rhythm that made the bed frame creak.
Sayuri, being penetrated by Haruto, covered her small mouth with muffled moans. The young girl was shy, feeling somewhat restrained doing this in front of her mother for the first time, and had no mind to share her thoughts.
But her body betrayed her shyness, her back arching off the bed, her legs wrapping tightly around Haruto's waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust, a silent plea for more.
Meanwhile, Ayame, collapsed on the bed, pouted jealously, continuously muttering words like "impossible" and "I don't believe it."
Her jealousy was a two-headed beast, envious of her mother's instant mastery and of the intense pleasure she could see wracking her sister's body with every one of Haruto's powerful strokes.
The pink-haired, buxom beauty was completely overshadowed by her mother's talent, attempting to escape reality.
She buried her face in a pillow, but it did little to block out the wet, slapping sounds of skin on skin or Sayuri's increasingly desperate, muffled cries.
And Kasumi, currently rebuilding her worldview, had no time to comfort her eldest daughter. Her sparkling beautiful eyes grew increasingly bright as she watched the flames dancing in her palm.
The flame seemed to pulse in time with Haruto's thrusts, growing brighter, hotter, as if fueled by the very sin unfolding before her.
"Ayame, so when Haruto said we didn't need to worry about pregnancy, was that because of magic too?" the beautiful widow asked curiously, watching the purple-haired ponytailed beauty who was in intimate contact with Haruto.
Her question was clinical, but her eyes were fixed on the place where their bodies joined, watching the slick, glistening evidence of their union with a fascinated hunger.
"Ah... that... while it's not exactly that, the reason is somewhat similar."
Ayame's voice was strained, her own hand sneaking between her legs to press against her throbbing clit as she watched Haruto's powerful back muscles flex and bunch with each movement.
Ayame gathered her spirits and continued recounting the events of the past six months to her stunningly beautiful mother.
She spoke between Haruto's grunts and Sayuri's keening wails, her story a bizarre tapestry of the supernatural woven with threads of pure lust.
She spoke of dual cultivation abilities, matters concerning demons, and most importantly, the numerous girls Haruto had taken under his wing.
With every new revelation, Kasumi's eyes widened further, her mind struggling to reconcile this world of magic and monsters with the very real, very carnal act happening just feet away.
The more Kasumi listened, the more astonished she became, her worldview shattering repeatedly—especially upon learning that her two daughters were not Haruto's girlfriends, but merely exclusive "fluff toys" among others.
The term 'fluff toys' sent a shocking, unexpected jolt of heat straight to her core, and she squeezed her thighs together tightly, a fresh wave of dampness slicking her inner thighs.
Although Haruto didn't actually treat them as sex slaves or do anything excessive, the mere concept left Kasumi utterly speechless in shock.
But the shock was laced with a dark, thrilling curiosity. What would it be like to have no pretenses, to simply be a vessel for pleasure, to be used so completely?
When Ayame mentioned that she would soon hold the same status, the gorgeous widow nearly fled on the spot.
Her body tensed to rise, to run from this den of iniquity, but her legs felt weak, her will sapped by the intoxicating mix of newfound power and primal voyeurism.
As for why she ultimately stayed and joined them...
The decision wasn't made in her mind, but in her body, in the ache between her legs and the answering thrum of magic in her blood.
It was absolutely not due to any infatuation with Haruto or a vague, immoral anticipation, but rather to rescue her misguided foster son and daughters from their wayward path.
She repeated this to herself like a mantra, even as her fingers began to unconsciously loosen the obi of her yukata, even as her gaze remained locked on Haruto's glistening, pumping hips.
"Haruto~ It's my turn now~"
Ayame's voice was no longer jealous, but thick with raw need, her own yukata falling open to reveal her heavy, heaving breasts, their peaks hard and begging for attention.
After explaining everything, Ayame paid no mind to Kasumi sitting dazed on the bed and eagerly threw herself onto Haruto's back.
Her naked breasts pressed against his sweat-slicked skin, her hands roaming over his shoulders and down his chest, her hips already undulating against him, seeking friction.
Under the force of gravity, the massive dragon deeply embedded in Sayuri's flower palace thrust forward another inch, stimulating the purple-haired, ponytailed, long-legged beauty who had just reached her peak. Her eyes rolled back, her small tongue lolled out unnaturally, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth as her delicate, lovely face completely transformed into a blissed-out "ahegao" expression.
A raw, screaming orgasm tore through Sayuri, her inner walls clamping down on Haruto's length in a series of violent, milking spasms. Her back arched off the bed violently, her toes curling, her entire body seizing in an ecstasy so profound it bordered on pain. The sight was one of pure, unadulterated debauchery, and it was the most beautiful, terrifying thing Kasumi had ever seen.