Chapter 226 - 225 : Dripping Clit

Chapter 226: Chapter 225 : Dripping Clit

The soft glow of the city lights outside painted faint silver streaks across the apartment walls, but inside Haruto’s tiny Tokyo bedroom it was almost pitch black—only the faint orange pulse of the streetlamp filtering through the half-closed curtains. Haruto lay on his back exactly as Jenny had left him, completely naked now, the sheet kicked down to his hips. His chest rose and fell in the deep, even rhythm of deep sleep. His softening cock rested heavy against his inner thigh, the thick shaft still glistening faintly with the remnants of his earlier pre-cum release, the head slightly flared and shiny. A single thick bead of dried pre-cum clung to the slit before slowly trickling down the side in a lazy, viscous line, catching the low light like warm honey.

Misaki stood at the edge of the bed, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure the sound would wake him. She had scrubbed herself raw in the bathroom—hot water, soap, every fold and crease—yet her body betrayed her again. The moment she stepped close, the heat that had never fully left her during her own bath flared hotter. Between her thighs, a fresh, warm slickness had already begun to bloom. Her pussy lips, still swollen from the cupboard, parted slightly as she shifted her weight, and a thick, pearly drop of her natural arousal oozed out, sliding slowly down the inside of her thigh like warm silk.

She didn’t hesitate. She wanted this more than air.

With trembling fingers she reached down, gripped the waistband of the sheet, and pulled it open in one smooth motion. Then she climbed.

Her bare feet sank into the mattress on either side of his hips. She straddled him slowly, knees sinking into the soft fabric on either side of his thick thighs. As she lowered herself, her legs parted wide—deliberately, almost sinfully. The night air kissed her soaked folds. Her swollen pussy lips brushed the cool sheet first, then the even cooler skin of his inner thighs. She was so wet that as her knees settled on either side of his hips, a thick, sticky rivulet of her natural fluid—clear, faintly sweet, musky with her own cunt—dripped straight down.

It landed on Haruto’s softening cock.

The warm, slippery drop spread over the thick shaft, coating the veiny length in a glistening trail. Another drop followed, dripping from her entrance as she settled. The warm, viscous fluid slid down the underside of his balls, coating them in a shiny sheen. His cock twitched once, involuntarily, but it stayed soft—still half-hard from the lingering post-orgasm haze, only half the size it had been earlier, but still thick and heavy, the head now slippery and slick with her saliva-like arousal.

Haruto’s sleep-muddled face tightened for a split second. A low, unconscious groan rumbled from his throat. His hands—large, warm, still heavy from sleep—moved on their own. One palm slid up her left thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh, gripping hard enough to leave faint red marks. The other hand pushed at her hip, trying to roll her off, but the motion was lazy, half-asleep, almost desperate in its confusion. In his dream he was back on the balcony with Jennifer, her soft, warm body pressing down on him, her pussy already dripping the warm piss he had just swallowed.

His face turned toward her.

His lips parted.

Then his eyes—still closed, lashes fluttering—met the reality of her mouth.

Haruto kissed her.

It was soft at first, then hungry. His lips pressed against hers in a slow, searching kiss, the kind he would have given Jennifer if she had been there. He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t stir. His entire body was still asleep, every nerve on autopilot, but his mouth was wide awake and starving. He sucked her lower lip gently, then harder, tongue flicking out to taste her. The kiss deepened instantly. His tongue pushed past her lips, sliding into her mouth with a wet, hungry sound.

Misaki’s world exploded.

She moaned into his mouth—low, broken, pure animal need—and kissed him back with everything she had. Her tongue met his, swirling, tasting, swallowing. She poured every drop of her own saliva into his mouth, letting it spill over his lips, down his chin, onto his neck. Haruto swallowed it without even knowing—another unconscious, greedy swallow that made her clit throb so hard she had to bite her own lip to stay quiet. She held his face with both hands, fingers threading through his messy hair, and kissed him deeper, slower, filthier. Her tongue fucked into his mouth in time with her hips.

While they kissed like that, her dripping pussy ground against his soft cock.

She rolled her hips once, twice, deliberately. The swollen, puffy lips of her cunt parted and slid along the thick, slippery shaft. Her natural arousal—warm, clear, and thick—made the contact obscene. Every downward press of her hips made a wet, slick sound as her folds coated his cockhead and shaft completely. The head of his cock nestled between her sticky folds, sliding through the slick mess of her own pussy juice, bumping against her clit on every roll. His balls were coated in her slickness now, heavy and warm, nestled against her dripping entrance.

Misaki’s breath hitched. Her nipples were diamond-hard, brushing his chest with every breath. She could feel his cock twitching beneath her—half-hard, thickening slowly under the constant, wet friction of her soaked folds. The head slipped once, twice, nudging at her entrance, coating itself in her arousal until it glistened obscenely. She didn’t take him inside—not yet. Not while he was asleep. But the pressure, the heat, the slippery glide of her own pussy against his soft cock was already driving her insane.

She kissed him harder, tongue fucking his mouth, swallowing his moans, pouring more saliva down his throat. Her hips rolled in slow, filthy circles, grinding her dripping cunt all over his cock, coating every inch of him in her natural slick. The wet sound of her pussy lips parting and sliding along his shaft filled the tiny bedroom like the filthiest symphony.

Haruto’s hands still gripped her thighs, pushing and pulling her in his sleep, as if trying to pull her closer, bury her deeper. His cock thickened another fraction under her—now fully half-hard, the head swollen and leaking pre-cum that mixed with her juices, making everything even slippier.

Misaki pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his, lips still brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss. Her voice was a broken whisper, barely audible, dripping with desperate lust:

"...Fuck... you’re so soft... so warm... I can feel myself now. I want to be fucked by you."

She rolled her hips again, slow and deliberate, letting the head of his cock nestle right at the entrance of her dripping pussy, teasing her slit, sliding up and down her folds until her clit throbbed against the swollen head with every pass.

Outside, the Tokyo night hummed on. Inside, the lonely young man was still asleep, completely unaware that the psychiatrist, his mother friend was now riding his soft, sleepy cock with her own natural arousal (Didn’t took inside), kissing him like he was the only man alive, and slowly, desperately, losing her mind over the forbidden taste of him.

Haruto is like a darkness born from the hallucination of sex, an existence surrounded by an irresistible atmosphere of sexual desire. Whenever a woman sees him or comes close enough to touch him, something strange begins to happen inside her body and mind. She gradually becomes turned on, and her mind starts filling with sexual thoughts and desires. Somehow, she begins to crave being fucked by him, even when she never intended to think about such things in the first place.

Haruto himself also wants to have sex with women. He possesses his own desires and has no intention of hiding his sexual nature. His presence, appearance, and the mysterious attraction surrounding him make him seem like a living embodiment of sexual temptation.

Haruto’s appearance seems to attract women’s hormones in a way that cannot be explained. Just seeing his face, looking into his eyes, or standing close to him can somehow make women feel sexually aroused and wet with desire for him. Even a woman who has never felt such an intense attraction before may find herself experiencing unfamiliar sensations whenever Haruto is nearby.

Haruto doesn’t have any superpowers. He cannot use magic, control minds, or consciously activate any supernatural ability. He is simply Haruto, an ordinary man with an appearance that somehow produces extraordinary reactions in women. Nobody knows why it happens or how his presence affects them so deeply. Yet, despite having no superpowers whatsoever, women somehow become turned on and wet for him, as though an inexplicable darkness of sexual hallucination surrounds his very existence.

In Haruto’s subconscious mind, having sex has become a basic daily need, just like eating or sleeping. Having sex with different girls has become his habit, an ordinary part of his daily life that he naturally desires. Exploring women’s naked bodies has become one of his greatest sources of pleasure, satisfying his curiosity and fulfilling his sexual desires.