"Mmmmh… ahhh…" Mikoto's moan dripped like honeyed sin as Minato's iron grip sank deeper into the lush, yielding flesh of her ass, fingers splaying wide to claim every inch of those thick, rounded cheeks.
He kneaded them with slow, possessive rolls, spreading them apart just enough to feel the soaked gusset of her panties drag against his cock.
"Ahhh… yes, take me right in front of my husband… show him how you own this Uchiha slut…" She rolled her hips in languid, filthy figure-eights, grinding her molten cunt over the rigid, throbbing ridge of his shaft.
The lace was drenched, clinging to her swollen lips like a second skin; every glide smeared her slick arousal along the veined length, the wet schlick-schlick echoing like a taunt.
The air thickened with the musky perfume of her dripping heat, a scent that branded the room as conquered territory.
Minato drank in the sight: the Uchiha matriarch writhing atop him, crimson kimono rucked up around her waist like a fallen battle standard, the clan crest now nothing more than a mocking ornament against her sweat-sheened skin.
His palms slid from her ass to the dramatic flare of her hips, thumbs digging into the soft hollows just above the bone, guiding her rhythm until she was shamelessly fucking herself on the bulge of his cock.
"That's it, Mikoto," he growled, voice gravel and smoke. "Show Fugaku how eagerly his proud matriarch humps the Hokage's dick—like the village bitch she was born to be."
Fugaku's knuckles splintered the armrests, the carved Uchiha fan cracking beneath his grip. His wife's ass—his wife's ass—jiggled with every lewd grind, the black butterfly panties now a transparent second skin, her puffy lips outlined in obscene detail.
The wet schlick-schlick of lace on cotton was a dagger to his pride, each sound carving another notch of humiliation into his gut. Yet his own cock throbbed traitorously, leaking a dark, shameful stain across his pants as he watched another man's hands claim what he'd abandoned for years.
Mikoto surged forward, crushing her mouth to Minato's in a kiss of pure, feral hunger—teeth clashing, tongues dueling, saliva spilling in glistening rivulets down their chins.
She moaned into him—"Mmmph… mmmh…"—hips never faltering, grinding harder, faster, chasing the swollen knot of her clit against his shaft. When they broke apart, a thick silver strand of spit stretched between their swollen lips before snapping with a wet snap.
Minato's hands began their ascent: palms gliding up the elegant curve of her spine, tracing the delicate dip of her waist, then higher, until his fingers brushed the clasp of her bra.
Mikoto's breath hitched. He's going to bare me completely. Right here. In front of Fugaku. The thought sent a fresh torrent of slick gushing from her cunt, soaking through both layers of fabric.
"Do it," she whispered, voice trembling with raw anticipation. "Strip the last shred of Uchiha pride off me… let him see what he never deserved."
Click.
The clasp snapped open like a gunshot in the silent room. The lace cups peeled away, and her heavy breasts spilled free—full, creamy globes tipped with dusky rose nipples already achingly stiff, begging for abuse.
They bounced with hypnotic weight, the cool air kissing her sensitive skin and making her gasp. "Ahhh… oh god, they're so sensitive… look at them, Fugaku. Look what you ignored."
Minato's hands were on her instantly, cupping the undersides of her tits, lifting their lush weight as if testing the ripeness of forbidden fruit. His thumbs circled her nipples in slow, teasing spirals, watching them tighten further under his touch.
"Fuck, look at these," he murmured, loud enough for Fugaku to hear every filthy syllable. "No wonder the Uchiha kept you hidden. These tits were made to be worshipped… milked… ruined."
He squeezed—hard.
Mikoto's back arched like a drawn bow, a sharp, keening cry tearing from her throat. "AHHH! Yes—squeeze them, Minato… they're yours now!" Her breasts overflowed his large hands, soft flesh spilling between his fingers as he kneaded them roughly, rolling the plump mounds together until her nipples rubbed against each other in slick, electric friction.
Every pinch, every brutal twist sent lightning bolts straight to her clit, her hips jerking in frantic, sloppy thrusts against his cock.
But Minato wasn't satisfied with hands alone. His mouth watered at the sight of her glistening nipple inches from his lips. With a low, animal growl, he latched onto her left breast—sucking the stiff peak into the wet heat of his mouth with a lewd, wet pop.
His tongue lashed the sensitive bud in relentless, rapid circles, flicking, swirling, then flattening to lap broad, sloppy stripes across the areola. He hollowed his cheeks, drawing the entire tip deep, the suction so fierce her breast stretched slightly with the pull.
"AAAAHHH! MINATO!" Mikoto's scream was raw, her fingers tangling in his golden hair as she yanked him closer, smashing his face into her chest. "Suck harder—oh fuck, yes, just like that!" Her hips bucked wildly now, grinding her dripping pussy against his cock in frantic, sloppy thrusts.
The wet sounds of his mouth on her tit mingled with her broken moans—slurp, smack, slurp—as he switched to the other breast, leaving the first glistening with spit, nipple swollen and cherry-red.
He grazed the peak with his teeth, a gentle bite that made her sob with pleasure. "Mmmh! Bite them—mark me, Hokage-sama… show Fugaku how you brand an Uchiha whore!" Minato obliged, sucking bruises into the pale flesh, dark purple blooms that stood out like war trophies against her skin.
He pulled back just enough to blow cool air over the wet nipple, watching it pebble tighter before diving back in, devouring her like a starving man.
Mikoto was lost. Her head thrown back, long black hair cascading down her spine, the Uchiha crest necklace bouncing between her heaving tits with every shuddering breath.
"Ahhh… ahhh… don't stop—suck them dry, please… they've never felt this good!" She cradled his head with both hands, forcing him to alternate between her breasts, smearing saliva and faint teeth marks across her chest.
Her thighs trembled around his waist, her panties now a soaked ruin, the butterfly pattern distorted where her swollen lips pressed against his cock.
Minato's mouth hovered just above her glistening nipple, the cool air from his breath making the swollen bud tighten even further.
He didn't touch it yet; he let the anticipation coil in her belly, watching her chest rise and fall in desperate, shallow pants.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice low and rough, loud enough for Fugaku to hear every syllable. "The proud Uchiha matriarch, tits out, begging to be used like a common whore. Tell him again, Mikoto. Tell your husband what these perfect breasts were made for."
Mikoto's eyes (dark, glassy, half-lidded with lust) flicked to Fugaku. A cruel, triumphant smile curved her spit-slick lips.
"They were made for you, Hokage-sama," she purred, arching her back to thrust her chest forward.
"Not for feeding heirs. Not for the clan. Just for your mouth… your hands… your cock." She cupped her own breasts from beneath, lifting them higher, offering them like sacred tribute. "Suck them until I scream. Mark them until the Uchiha crest is nothing but a joke around my neck."
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