Chapter 5: Mom and dad
The rain blurred the neon across the penthouse windows, turning the city into a watercolor of smeared light. Baki stood in the living room, muscles coiled with a restless energy the evening fight hadn’t drained. The air smelled of clean linen and the distant, petrichor scent of wet concrete.
“You’re so tense, my son.”
Emi’s voice was a soft murmur behind him. He turned. She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, backlit by a low, golden lamp. She wore a simple silk robe, the sash loose. It fell open as she took a step forward, revealing the full, heavy curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the dark triangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Her eyes, so like his own, held a knowing warmth.
“I can help with that,” she said, closing the distance. Her hands, surprisingly strong, came up to his chest. She pushed his fighting jacket off his shoulders. It pooled on the floor. “Let me.”
He didn’t resist. A low thrum of electricity, forbidden and potent, fired along his nerves. She kissed his chest, her mouth hot and open against his skin, her tongue tracing the lines of his abdominals. Her fingers worked at the buckle of his pants. “I’ve dreamt of this,” she breathed, her voice husky. “Of feeling my strong boy.”
His cock sprang free, already thick and hardening. She gasped, a genuine sound of want, and wrapped her fingers around him. “So big. My beautiful boy.” She sank to her knees, her robe falling completely open. She didn’t use her mouth. Instead, she guided him, pressing the swollen head against her lips. She was already wet, the heat of her shocking. With a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, she sheathed him inside herself.
“Oh, god, Baki,” she moaned, her head falling back.
He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and began to move. Her cunt was obscenely tight, a silken, clutching heat that made his vision swim. He fucked her kneeling on the floor, her legs wrapped around his back, her nails scraping down his spine. She pulled the robe off completely, her breasts swaying with each of his thrusts. He bent, capturing a dark nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, biting gently. She cried out, her back arching.
“Yes! Just like that! Fuck your mother, Baki! Fuck me!”
He lost himself in the rhythm, in the wet, slapping sound of their joining, in the smell of her sweat and her sex. He drove into her, each stroke hitting her deep. She chanted his name, a prayer and a curse.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree. A shadow fell across them.
Baki’s thrusts hitched. He looked over his mother’s shoulder.
Yujiro stood there, naked, his massive frame a monument of scarred muscle. His cock, fully erect, was a brutal, veined thickness that made Baki’s own seem almost modest. He said nothing. His demonic eyes watched, glinting with predatory interest.
Emi twisted her head, seeing him. A wild, desperate smile touched her lips. “Join us,” she panted. “Don’t just watch. Take him.”
Yujiro moved with a silence that belied his size. He knelt behind Baki. A large, calloused hand spread across Baki’s lower back, pressing him down, arching his spine, driving him deeper into Emi. Baki groaned, the new angle making Emi gasp.
He felt the blunt, huge head of his father’s cock press against his asshole. There was no preparation, no gentle coaxing. Just relentless, impending pressure.
“Relax,” Yujiro commanded, his voice a gravelly rumble against Baki’s ear. “Or I’ll tear you in half.”
Baki forced his muscles to relent. With a brutal, inward shove, Yujiro breached him. The stretch was agonizing, immense, a white-hot spear of pain that melted into a fullness so profound it stole his breath. He screamed into his mother’s shoulder, his body impaled on both ends.
“Move,” Yujiro growled.
He began to fuck Baki’s ass with slow, devastating piston strokes. Each forward thrust from Yujiro slammed Baki forward, burying his own cock to the hilt in his mother’s dripping cunt. The dual sensation was catastrophic. The hot, tight clutch of his mother around his shaft, the brutal, claiming invasion of his father filling his ass—it split his mind.
He was being used, a vessel between them.
Emi wrapped her arms around him, pulling his face into her ample breasts. “Suck them, baby,” she begged, her voice ragged. “Suck mommy’s tits while you fuck me.”
He did, mouth sealing over a nipple, sucking hungrily, drowning in the soft, fragrant flesh. She hugged his head tighter, her breasts smothering him, choking him with their weight and warmth. He fucked her through it, his hips finding a frantic rhythm dictated by the jackhammer pounding of Yujiro from behind.
“I’m gonna cum,” Emi shrieked, her body clenching around him in violent spasms. “But I want your seed, Baki! I want it all! Fill me up! Get me pregnant! Put a baby in your mother! I want your child!”
Her words detonated in his brain. The taboo, the raw, biological filth of it sent a lightning bolt to his balls. His orgasm gathered, a tsunami at the base of his spine.
At the same time, Yujiro’s pace became punishing, brutal. He fucked into Baki with a final, animalistic fury. “You want my cum, boy?” Yujiro snarled, his breath hot. “You want me to breed this fucking ass?”
“Yes!” Baki sobbed, the word muffled by his mother’s tit. “Dad, please! Impregnate me! Fill me up! I want it! I need it!”
It was too much. The begging, the brutal dual penetration, the smothering scent and taste of his mother, the overwhelming, dominant presence of his father claiming his most intimate space.
With a roar that tore from the deepest part of him, Baki erupted. Jets of hot cum pulsed from his cock, flooding his mother’s womb, spurting deep inside her clutching channel as she screamed in triumph.
The violent clenching of Baki’s own body around Yujiro’s cock was the final trigger. With a guttural shout that shook the windows, Yujiro slammed home and poured his own release into Baki’s ass. A searing flood of cum, impossibly hot and voluminous, filled him, a claiming brand from the inside.
Baki shook, utterly wrecked, suspended between them. He was spilling into his mother, being filled by his father, his mouth still latched to her nipple. The sensations blurred into one overwhelming, transcendent violation. The pleasure of plowing his mother’s fertile, begging cunt was a primal, conquering fire. The pleasure of being utterly dominated, broken open, and seeded by his father was a submission so complete it felt like divinity.
He didn’t know which he loved more. In that endless, pulsing moment of dual completion, he understood they were the same thing.