Minato shifted above her, the last of the oil on his skin catching the low light in soft gleams. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his undergarment and pushed it down in one smooth motion.
His cock sprang free at once—thick, heavy, and already rigid, the flushed head swollen and glistening, a prominent vein running along the underside from base to tip.
It rose against his stomach for a heartbeat before settling under its own weight, the sheer size of it making the space between their bodies feel suddenly smaller and hotter.
Kurenai's eyes dropped to it. A soft, breathless little laugh escaped her, the sound half disbelief and half familiar hunger. Even after taking him so many times, the sight of that heavy length still pulled the same deep reaction from low in her stomach.
Her fingers reached out slowly and closed around the shaft. The heat of it surprised her all over again—almost feverish against her palm, the skin stretched smooth and tight over the thick girth. She could feel the steady pulse of blood beneath her fingers.
She swallowed, the quiet click of it audible in the silence, and gave him a slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip, watching the way the head flexed and a clear bead of precum welled at the slit before spreading under her thumb.
Her voice came out soft, almost wondering, the words shaped carefully around the heat already rising high in her cheeks.
"It… never stops amazing me."
Minato's hands were already moving. He gripped the soft sides of her hips, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her panties. She brought her knees together to help him, lifting her hips just enough.
The thin black fabric peeled down her thighs with a soft whisper of movement, then off her legs entirely.
The moment the panties left her
body he tossed them aside without looking. She opened her legs again for him without being asked, the movement slow and deliberate, exposing herself fully.
Her pussy was already flushed a deep, delicate pink, the soft outer lips slightly parted and shining with wetness. The inner folds looked almost too small and tender against the heavy cock hovering above them.
A thin, glistening thread of her arousal had already leaked down onto the sheets beneath her, and the scent of it rose between them, warm and intimate.
Minato lowered himself, guiding the thick, flushed head to her entrance. He rubbed it slowly up and down through her folds, coating himself thoroughly in her slickness, pressing just enough to make the soft lips yield and cling around the tip without yet pushing inside.
The wet sound of it was soft and filthy—schlick… schlick—as he dragged himself through her over and over. Kurenai's breath hitched hard each time the broad head nudged against her entrance. Her hips twitched upward on instinct, chasing the heat of him.
Her face was already flushed a deeper pink, lips parted, eyes half-lidded and locked on the place where their bodies touched.
A fine tremor had started in her thighs.
Her voice came out unsteady, the words broken by the need in her throat, each syllable edged with a soft, needy sound that almost turned into a moan.
"I need… it inside me."
Minato's eyes stayed on her face as he began to press forward.
The broad head of his cock met the tight resistance of her entrance and slowly, steadily forced it open.
Kurenai's mouth fell open on a long, shaking exhale as the tip finally slipped inside with a wet, soft pop. Her brows drew together; her fingers curled tight against the sheets.
The stretch was immediate and intense—the heat of him flooding into her, the thick shape already making her walls flutter and clench around just the first inch in helpless little pulses.
She could feel every ridge of him, every slow throb of the vein against her sensitive inner flesh.
Her free hand came up to press against his chest as if she needed the solid contact to stay grounded.
He kept going.
More of the shaft followed, slow and relentless, opening her further with every careful push.
The wet sound of her body accepting him grew louder—schlick… mmhh… schlick—as her juices mixed with the residual oil still coating his skin, making the slide filthy and smooth. Kurenai's breathing turned uneven and shallow.
When a third of him was buried inside her she made a small, broken sound in her throat. When half of him was inside she spoke again, the words coming out in short, trembling pieces between shallow breaths, her voice thin, strained, and already edged with a cracked little moan.
"Minato… slowly… I—ah—can't take it all at once…"
Her eyes were glassy, focused somewhere between sharp stretch and overwhelming fullness. Her lower lip was caught hard between her teeth.
Every small shift of his hips made her lashes flutter and her walls flutter around him in helpless little pulses, trying to adjust to the thickness forcing her open.
He did not stop, but he did not rush either. Inch by thick inch he fed himself into her, watching her face the entire time. The stretch kept building. Her brows stayed drawn. Her mouth opened and closed on silent, shaky breaths.
A faint, continuous tremor ran through her thighs where they framed his hips.
When three-quarters of him was buried she let out a longer, higher sound, her nails digging lightly into his chest. Only when his hips finally met hers and the entire length was buried to the hilt did he go still.
The moment he was fully inside he stayed completely motionless, giving her body time to adjust. His chest pressed down against her oil-slick breasts, the soft flesh spreading and yielding under the weight of him.
Both of them were shining now—oil transferred from his skin to every place they had touched, mixing with the wetness between her legs, making her body gleam under the low light.
The wet sheen turned every curve more vivid, more open. Kurenai's face moved through a series of small, unguarded expressions as her body struggled to accept the size of him. Her brows remained drawn. Her mouth stayed open on quiet, trembling breaths.
The stretch was still sharp, the heat of him almost too much, yet underneath the intensity her walls had already begun to flutter and clench around the thick intrusion in rhythmic, greedy pulses, adjusting, accepting, trying to pull him even deeper.
Minato watched her carefully, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her flushed cheek.
When the tightest edge of discomfort finally began to ease from her expression, he drew his hips back—slowly, almost all the way out—until only the swollen head remained inside her, stretching her entrance obscenely.
The wet sound of her pussy reluctantly releasing him was soft and filthy. Then he thrust back in with one smooth, deep stroke.
Kurenai's whole body jerked.
A broken, high moan tore from her throat as her walls were forced open around him again, the stretch renewed and overwhelming.
He did it again.
The second thrust was firmer, the wet schlick of her pussy taking him louder this time. Her back arched hard; her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in.
The third thrust drew an even louder sound from her, raw and open, her voice cracking in the middle of it as the thick length dragged against every sensitive place inside her.
Minato's control settled into something steady and focused.
He began to fuck her in earnest—long, deep strokes that dragged every thick inch of him through her, the oil and her own slickness making the slide wet and filthy.
Each time his hips met hers the soft, heavy impact of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with the wetter, more obscene sound of her pussy being stretched and filled over and over.
Kurenai could no longer form words. Soft, continuous moans spilled from her lips with every thrust, rising and falling in pitch as he found a rhythm that kept her full and stretched without pause.
Her legs wrapped higher around his waist, heels pressing into the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him even deeper.
Her oiled breasts swayed and jiggled with every impact, the soft flesh gleaming under the light.
The pleasure had already begun to edge into something sharper, deeper; her walls clenched around him in helpless, rhythmic pulses, and the wet sounds of their fucking grew louder and wetter with every stroke.
A thin sheen of sweat had begun to mix with the oil on both of their bodies, making everything slipperier, hotter, more desperate.
Each time he bottomed out she felt the heavy press of him against the deepest part of her, and another broken sound was forced from her throat.
Outside the door, two maids stood frozen in the corridor.
Both of their faces had gone bright red. One of them pressed her fingertips to her lips as another long, broken moan carried through the wood—higher this time, almost desperate, followed by the unmistakable wet rhythm of skin meeting skin.
"Are you hearing that?" the first whispered, voice barely audible.
The second nodded, eyes wide. "I know. I heard."
A short, embarrassed silence stretched between them as another shaky, high moan rose from inside the room.
"Do you think she's… faking it?"
"How am I supposed to know that?"
The wet sounds continued without pause, steady and deep.
The first maid swallowed hard. "I've never… sounded like that. Not with my husband."
The second one glanced at the closed door, then away again, cheeks burning.
"Well… he's not your husband."
A tiny, nervous huff of laughter escaped the first. "He must have some kind of… magic. To make a woman sound like that."
Inside the room, Minato's pace remained deep and relentless.
The wet slap of skin and Kurenai's unrestrained, rising moans filled the air without pause, her body taking every thick inch of him over and over while the oil and her own wetness made each thrust sound filthier than the last.
Her walls fluttered and clenched around him in continuous, helpless pulses, and the pleasure kept building with no end in sight.
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