The moment Ichiro's small hips jerked forward one last time, thick ropes of cum flooded Kushina's womb. Her eyes widened in pure horror as she felt the hot, sticky seed painting her insides. The family photo trembled in Ichiro's hand—he deliberately tilted it so the smiling faces of her husband and Kaito stared straight at her while she was being bred like a cheap whore.
"Take it all, Mommy," Ichiro whispered, grinding his childish cock as deep as it would go. "Your pussy is sucking it in… it wants my baby."
Kushina's body betrayed her completely. Her walls clenched and spasmed, milking every drop. A broken, guttural moan tore from her throat as another orgasm—her fourth, or fifth?—ripped through her. Her legs, spread obscenely wide, shook uncontrollably; clear squirt gushed around Ichiro's shaft and soaked the sheets.
When he finally pulled out with a wet pop, a torrent of white poured from her gaping, reddened hole. Kushina lay there, chest heaving, nightgown bunched around her waist, face and wedding ring still glistening with earlier loads. Cum dripped from her chin onto her heaving breasts.
Ichiro sat back on his heels, admiring his work. "Look how full you are, Mommy. That's my present for you."
She couldn't speak. Shame, guilt, and raw lust warred across her face. Her trembling hand drifted to her belly as if she could already feel something taking root.
Downstairs, the house was silent. Kaito was fast asleep in his own room, completely unaware that his mother had just been creampied by the stray kid he hated.
Ichiro crawled up the bed and nestled against her side like an innocent child seeking comfort. One small hand possessively cupped her cum-slick breast. "Goodnight, Mommy," he murmured, giving the nipple a playful pinch that made her gasp. "Tomorrow we'll do even more fun things."
Kushina stared at the ceiling until dawn, thighs sticky, pussy still twitching with aftershocks.
Morning came too quickly.
Kaito stomped into the kitchen, hair messy, demanding pancakes. Kushina—wearing a high-neck sweater despite the warmth—moved like a ghost. Her legs felt weak; every step reminded her of the load sloshing inside her. She hadn't douched. She couldn't bring herself to wash him away.
Ichiro bounced in wearing another set of Kaito's old clothes, all bright smiles. "Morning, Mommy! Morning, Kaito!"
Kaito glared. "Don't call her that, you little—"
"Kaito," Kushina cut in weakly. "Be nice. He's our guest."
Ichiro slid into the chair right beside her, immediately slipping a hand under the table to rest on her thigh. Kushina jolted but didn't dare push him away. Not with Kaito watching.
Throughout breakfast Ichiro's fingers inched higher, brushing the hem of her skirt. When Kaito turned to grab the syrup, Ichiro boldly cupped her mound through her panties. She was already soaked again. He smirked and pressed the fabric between her folds, feeling the crusty remnants of last night.
Kushina bit her lip so hard it bled.
After Kaito left for school—still grumbling about the "leech" wearing his clothes—Kushina tried to busy herself with dishes. Ichiro followed like a shadow.
"Auntie… no, Mommy," he corrected with a wicked grin. "My penis is tingly again."
She froze, sponge dripping in her hand. "We can't. Not in the daytime. Not—"
He didn't let her finish. In one motion he hopped onto the counter, yanked down his shorts, and presented his stiff little cock. "You said you'd take care of me if I lived here."
Kushina's eyes flicked to the window—neighbors could see if they walked past. But the sight of that childish erection, still wearing the faint scent of her pussy from last night, made her knees buckle.
She sank to the floor right there in the kitchen.
Her lips parted almost on instinct. Ichiro threaded gentle fingers through her hair and guided her forward. The moment her tongue touched the tip, he sighed like he'd come home.
"Good Mommy… suck it clean."
She did. Shame burned her cheeks crimson as she bobbed on a child's cock in broad daylight, tasting herself and his dried cum. Ichiro rocked his hips, fucking her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes until tears ran down her face.
When he came, he held her head firm and shot straight down her throat. She swallowed every drop, choking only once.
Afterward he patted her cheek. "Thank you, Mommy. You're the best."
The rest of the day was a slow, humiliating conquest.
He made her bathe him again—this time fully dressed at first, then stripping her piece by piece while the shower ran. He bent her over the sink and ate her pussy from behind until her legs gave out. He sat on the living-room couch watching cartoons while she rode him reverse cowgirl, skirt hiked up, wedding ring glinting each time her hand braced on his knee.
Every orgasm he wrung from her felt like another chain.
By evening Kushina was a wreck—hair disheveled, lips swollen, nipples raw and red beneath her bra. She served dinner in a daze. Kaito noticed something was off but couldn't place it.
Ichiro, however, was glowing.
That night Kaito again refused to share his room. Perfect.
As soon as the master bedroom door closed, Ichiro pushed Kushina face-down onto the bed, yanked her nightgown up, and slid into her from behind without a word. She was so wet there was no resistance—just a lewd squelch as he bottomed out.
He fucked her hard and fast, little hips slapping against her ass. Each thrust pushed last night's leftover cum deeper.
"Tell me who owns this pussy now," he growled into her ear.
Kushina buried her face in the pillow and sobbed, "Y-you do… oh god, you do…"
"Say it louder."
"You own Mommy's pussy! Please—please cum inside again!"
He did—grunting like an animal, flooding her a second night in a row.
Over the next week the pattern solidified.
Mornings: wake-up blowjob under the blankets while Kaito showered.
Afternoons: quick, risky fucks in the laundry room, pantry, or against the fridge the moment Kaito stepped outside to play.
Nights: long, thorough breedings in the marital bed, sometimes with her husband's photo propped on the pillow so she had to look at it while Ichiro emptied his balls.
Kushina stopped wearing panties entirely. Ichiro liked "easy access."
He marked her constantly—hickeys hidden beneath collars, handprints on her ass, dried cum flaking inside her thighs when she picked Kaito up from school.
And she let him. Craved it. The guilt never faded, but the hunger grew sharper.
One Saturday Kaito had a football match. Kushina drove him to the field, Ichiro in the backseat grinning like an angel.
While Kaito warmed up with his team, Kushina sat in the bleachers trying not to squirm. Ichiro had stuffed her pussy with a remote egg before they left and kept the controller in his pocket.
Halfway through the first half he turned it to maximum.
Kushina came silently in public, biting her fist, juices running down her legs beneath her modest skirt while mothers around her cheered for their sons.
When Kaito scored a goal and looked up for his mom's applause, he saw her flushed, eyes glassy, thighs clenched. He frowned—something was definitely wrong with Mom lately.
That night Kushina hit her breaking point.
Kaito was asleep. Moonlight spilled across the bedroom. Ichiro had her on all fours, pounding mercilessly, when she suddenly collapsed forward and sobbed, "I can't do this anymore… I'm a terrible mother, a terrible wife…"
Ichiro slowed but didn't stop. He leaned over her back, small hands reaching under to maul her swinging tits.
"You're not terrible," he whispered sweetly. "You're perfect. You were starving and I'm feeding you. That's love."
He flipped her onto her back, pinned her wrists above her head, and kissed her tears away while sliding back inside.
"Feel that?" He rolled his hips slow and deep. "That's where you need me. Every day. Forever."
Kushina's sob turned into a moan. Her legs wrapped around his tiny waist on their own.
Two weeks later the pregnancy test turned positive.
She sat on the bathroom floor staring at the two pink lines, cum still dripping from her earlier morning service. Ichiro peeked around the door, eyes gleaming.
"Really?" he asked excitedly.
She nodded, numb.
He knelt, kissed her belly reverently, then looked up with the cruelest, happiest smile.
"Tell Kaito he's getting a little brother. Tell your husband the overseas project gave you a miracle. They'll never know it's mine."
Kushina pulled him into her arms, crying and laughing at the same time, and guided his mouth to her breast.
Outside, Kaito kicked his football against the house again, oblivious.
Inside, his mother nursed the child who had stolen her body, her womb, her soul—whispering broken promises into his hair while he sucked greedily and fingered her back to another shuddering climax.
Revenge was complete.
And only just beginning.