Seiji's hand was still on the back of Haruko's neck.
He felt the heat of her skin.
She's ready. She's ready for me.
"Haruko," he said.
He surprised himself by how steady he felt.
It was the heat of an awesome moment, but he still felt in control. Conquering Yumi must've changed him.
He knew exactly what he was going to do and how.
"There is no need to fight," he told Haruko, looking straight into her eyes.
She breathed even faster.
"Then take me," she whispered.
I'm going to.
Seiji moved his hand to her shoulder. He pushed down.
Haruko didn't resist. She let him guide her backward. When she sank onto the sheets, her grey dress bunched around her hips.
I can't believe it: my stepmom is on my bed, and I'm going to have sex with her.
Seiji was already rock hard.
He hovered over Haruko. His knees were outside her thighs.
She looked up. Her eyes were wide and glossy. The "Tokyo office-wife" look was gone. Under Seiji was a woman in heat.
"Oh, Seiji..." she breathed.
Seiji reached down. His fingers found the hem of her dress.
When he touched it, Haruko's jaw trembled.
"We have the house to ourselves," Seiji said. As calmly as he could.
Haruko nodded slightly. Then her eyes closed.
Seiji hiked her dress up, past her knees. It settled at her waist.
Her legs looked paler than usual. She was wearing simple white lingerie.
Faster, the amulet hummed in Seiji's ears.
I know, I know…
Seiji moved between Haruko's legs and simply pushed her panties to the side.
Her hands grabbed his forearms. Her grip was tight.
"Seiji, wait—" she started.
Too late. Too weak. And useless.
Seiji had already entered her. In one slow motion.
Holy fuck, that's awesome!
"Ah!" Haruko's head snapped back. Her mouth opened.
She felt different than Yumi. She was slick. She was deep.
Seiji exhaled. The sensation was out of this world. It was a mind-blowing tight warmth.
Is that how it feels with a more mature woman? I like it.
He began to move.
At first, Haruko was stiff. Her hands kept gripping Seiji's arms. But her eyes slowly opened and focused on his face.
Still, she was trying to control herself.
Seiji didn't want her to. He leaned down to her neck.
He started kissing it, increasing the pace of his thrusts. He just drove into her. The bed frame started to groan.
"Seiji! Ah—no, I..."
Her voice broke as Seiji kept pounding.
She moaned. Her grip loosened. Her hands slid up. She clutched his shoulders.
"Don't worry," he panted, driving even deeper. "No one can hear you."
She took the permission.
She cried out. It wasn't a whimper. It was a scream. The sound of a woman who had been silent for too long.
She arched her back, pulling him deeper.
"More," she gasped. Her face was flushed. "Seiji... deeper…"
He sunk himself deeper, again and again, the friction feeling sweet and hot.
Haruko's muscles clamped around him. Her fingers dug into his skin. There was no trace of her dignity left.
A woman who needs to be fucked.
He liked the way she looked.
The perfect stepmother was a loud and sweaty mess.
The amulet around Seiji's neck practically vibrated.
"I'm... I'm going to—!"
Haruko's voice rose to a high wail.
Suddenly, her body convulsed. It shuddered in long waves, and she moaned and yelled, ending up with a pitiful whine.
She was done.
Seiji followed. He buried his face in her neck and pounded faster.
"Cumming!"
He squeezed his eyes closed as it hit him.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Thrum.
His whole body pulsated as he shot all he had deep inside Haruko. She whimpered again, her legs wrapping desperately around him.
"Oh, Seiji!!!"
Seiji stopped. Blood thumped against his temples.
The final seal.
Seiji slowly pulled out.
Only now he noticed how quiet the house was.
He sat up next to Haruko, his feet heavy and hot. He watched a thin sliver of his cum appear between Haruko's legs.
That's my cum. I am a god.
Seiji felt so proud, the back of his neck hurt.
He ran his hand through Haruko's hair.
My stepmom is my woman. My second woman.
Haruko looked up at him and took his hand. Her fingers trembled. The lust in her eyes was gone. There was only devotion left.
Her dress was still up. Her hair was messy. But she looked relaxed.
Younger.
"Seiji," she whispered. "Now you see?" She squeezed his hand. "Now you can see... I'm yours, right? "
Seiji looked at her.
He didn't speak. He just squeezed her hand back.
He didn't have to say any words.
Boys talk.
And he was now—the master of the house.