Chapter 228 - 227 : Blind For Lust

Chapter 228: Chapter 227 : Blind For Lust

The relentless, delicious suction of Haruto’s mouth had already pushed Misaki to the very edge of ecstasy. Her thighs were trembling violently around his head, her natural vaginal discharge still pouring in thick, creamy rivers down his chin and neck, soaking the pillow beneath his head. Every long, greedy swallow he took from her had sent sparks straight up her spine, but now the pleasure had crested. She needed to push it further—deeper, filthier, more overwhelming. Her mind screamed for the one thing she had never been able to do with another man while he was fully conscious: make him drink her squirt while he was still asleep.

She stopped moving.

Completely.

Her hips froze mid-roll, her swollen, puffy pussy lips still sealed tightly over his mouth like a warm, living seal. She took a slow, shuddering breath, letting her lungs fill with the heavy, musky scent of her own cunt—salty-sweet, tangy vaginal discharge, her sweat, and the faint copper tang of her arousal. Her body relaxed in stages, melting like warm wax. Her shoulders dropped, her back arched slightly, and her thighs loosened just enough to let the tension bleed out of her muscles. The orgasm that had been building now sat coiled inside her, a hot, heavy pressure in her womb, begging to be unleashed.

She kept her pussy exactly where it was.

Fully attached.

Her sticky, dripping cunt pressed flat against Haruto’s lips, her swollen folds sealing around his mouth in a perfect, obscene seal. Every tiny movement of his jaw against her clit sent fresh jolts through her, but she stayed perfectly still, letting him drink the last slow, creamy swallows of her natural discharge. His tongue flicked lazily inside her, lapping up the last traces, but she held him there—trapped, drowning in her taste, unable to move.

Her right hand slid down her body.

Two fingers found her swollen clit. She rubbed slow, firm circles—perfect pressure, exactly the rhythm that always made her squirt. Up and down. Left to right. Circles that grew tighter and faster as the heat in her belly exploded. Her hips stayed locked, her pussy grinding down harder onto his mouth with every rub, forcing his lips and tongue to seal even tighter against her folds. The sticky bridge of her natural fluids and his saliva stretched between them like a glistening thread of pure lust. She could feel his breath hot against her entrance, his tongue still working inside her even in his sleep.

The squirt built like a storm.

First a deep, rolling wave from her core. Then it hit her clit with full force. Her whole body seized. Her thighs shook so violently they quivered around his head. A low, broken moan escaped her lips—soft, desperate, controlled. She bit her own lower lip to keep from crying out loud, knowing every neighbor in the building could hear if she wasn’t careful. Her free hand gripped the headboard until her knuckles whitened.

Then it exploded.

A thick, hot jet of her squirt burst straight into Haruto’s mouth.

It was nearly sticky—warm, viscous, almost syrupy—yet still clear and salty-sweet, the unmistakable taste of a woman pushed to the absolute edge. It flooded his mouth in heavy pulses, flooding his cheeks, spilling over his lips, dripping down his chin in thick ropes. Haruto’s throat worked on instinct. He swallowed. Again and again. Even in his deepest sleep, his lips sealed tighter around her pussy, his tongue pushing forward to lap every drop. He drank like a starving man—long, greedy swallows that pulled another powerful spurt from her cunt. The sound was obscene: wet, glucking, slurping noises as he swallowed her squirt straight from the source.

"F-fuuuuck... yes... drink it... drink every drop..." Misaki whispered, voice shaking with the aftershocks.

She kept rubbing. Faster. Harder. Grinding her clit against his tongue while she squirted again and again—five, six, seven heavy pulses of hot, sticky liquid that he swallowed without waking. His cock, now fully rock-hard and throbbing between his legs, twitched and leaked steadily against his thigh, the pre-cum mixing with the sheets beneath him. His hands squeezed her ass cheeks so hard the skin turned white, pulling her pussy harder onto his face, as if trying to milk every last drop from her womb.

When the orgasm finally ebbed, Misaki felt like she had been emptied and refilled at the same time. Pure, bone-melting satisfaction flooded her body. A soft, satisfied smile curved her lips as she looked down at the sleeping man whose mouth was still sealed around her pussy, his cheeks slightly bloated from the load of her squirt he had just swallowed.

She slowly, deliberately, began to pull back.

The sticky connection between her pussy and his mouth held for one long, trembling second. Her swollen folds stretched, her natural fluids and his saliva clinging to him in a thick, glistening thread. Then it snapped.

A final, slow trickle of her squirt followed—warm, viscous, and thick—splashing down onto his chest. Another smaller drop landed on his cheek, right beside his closed eyelids, leaving a shiny pearl that caught the faint city-light glow. His lips were coated in her release, shiny and swollen, his chin and neck dripping with the evidence of what he had just swallowed.

Misaki stayed perfectly still for a moment, just watching him. Her chest heaved with heavy, satisfied breaths. She could feel his cock throbbing against her thigh, the head shiny and leaking. The taste of her own squirt still lingered on her tongue as she leaned down and gave him one last soft, lingering kiss on his lips—tasting herself on him—before she finally lifted her body off his face.

The apartment was quiet again, except for the soft, wet sounds of her arousal cooling on his skin and the faint hum of the city outside.

And Misaki, the psychiatrist who had just watched her ex patient drain another woman dry, had just lost herself completely in the sleeping boy beneath her.

The apartment was silent again, broken only by the soft, wet sounds of Misaki’s breathing and the faint hum of Tokyo traffic far below. She stood there at the edge of the bed, naked, glistening, and trembling from the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of her life. Her pussy still throbbed, swollen and dripping with the last traces of her squirt, yet the emptiness between her legs ached with fresh, urgent need. Haruto lay asleep beneath her, his face and chest coated in her release, his cock—still half-hard, small and soft after the long night—resting against his thigh like a promise he didn’t know he was making.

Misaki’s lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile.

She reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand, the same ones Jennifer had used earlier. The soft, white paper crinkled as she gently dabbed at his chest first—slow, deliberate strokes that wiped away the thick, pearly strands of her squirt. The fabric was warm from his body heat. She moved lower, cleaning the drops that had landed on his cheek, his chin, the side of his neck. Each careful wipe left a clean, shiny trail behind her fingers. When she was done, the only evidence left was a faint, glistening sheen on his skin and the unmistakable scent of her own squirt still hanging in the air—sweet, salty, musky.

Then she turned to leave.

Her bare feet padded across the floor, hips swaying with the same confident. The kitchen cupboard door stood slightly ajar, the faint scent of fresh soap still lingering from when she had scrubbed it clean. She was almost going back to the cupboard—ready to slip back inside like a ghost—when her eyes caught it.

His cock.

Resting heavy against his inner thigh, it was smaller than she remembered, half-hard, the thick shaft no longer fully swollen, the head just slightly flared. It looked so... innocent. So helpless. And that was exactly what pushed Misaki over the edge again.

Her mind ignited.

"No..." she whispered, voice husky with lust. "I can’t... he’s my childhood friend’s son..."

But her body didn’t listen.

She slowly leaned forward. Her face hovered inches above his softening cock. She took a deep, deliberate breath. The musky, salty, faintly sweet scent of him—still carrying the trace of sex, and the fresh heat of his pre-cum arousal. Her chest throbbed instantly, nipples hardening to aching points. Her pussy clenched so hard a fresh trickle of vaginal discharge oozed down her thigh. She couldn’t help herself.

Her fingers wrapped around the warm, soft shaft.

It was heavy, velvety, the skin silky and slightly cool compared to the rest of his body. She gave it a gentle squeeze. It twitched in her palm, already thickening under her touch. She lifted it slightly, bringing the thick head close to her face, and inhaled again—longer this time—burying her nose against his balls. The scent was intoxicating. She moaned softly, the vibration traveling straight down her spine.

Then she opened her mouth.

No more hesitation.

She lowered her head and took him in.

Her lips stretched wide around the thick head. She sucked him in—slow at first, then harder, deeper. Her tongue swirled around the swollen head, tasting him, savoring the salty pre-cum that welled up. She bobbed her head once, twice, three strokes—wet, sloppy sounds filling the tiny bedroom as she took more of his length into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed. Saliva poured out in thick strands, coating his cock completely. She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his glistening shaft, then leaned down again and kissed the heavy weight of his balls. Her tongue dragged slowly across them, licking every crease, every vein, tasting the musky skin. She sucked each one gently into her mouth, swirling her tongue, before pulling back and licking the entire length of his cock from balls to head.

Now his cock was soaked—shiny, slippery, glistening with her saliva and his own pre-cum. It looked obscene, perfect, ready.