Chapter 5 - Silent Witness Part-2
He told himself it would stop there. That the worst was over. That they'd emptied themselves out and maybe, just maybe, he could slip away into the dark, hard and aching but at least unseen. He was wrong.
Sarutobi didn't even pretend to be spent. He pulled out of Kushina, leaned back in the chair, and began stroking himself like he had all the time in the world. "One more," he rumbled. Kushina scrambled upright and crawled across the desk to him, sweat glazing her skin, every bruise and handprint gleaming.
Jiraiya cupped her chin and crushed his lips to hers. "You're insatiable," he growled. "How long've you been hiding this from your husband?"
She bit his lip hard. "You mean how long I've been fucking you behind his back?" she hissed loud enough for Minato to hear through the door. "Year? More?" She laughed, dark and cruel. "He's clueless in bed."
Minato's gut twisted. He wanted to puke. Instead, his cock jerked even harder, straining so brutally he could barely stand.
Jiraiya threw his head back and howled laughter. "Poor bastard. Bet he thinks you're perfect." He shoved Kushina down onto Sarutobi's lap, perched on the edge of the chair. "Teach her some real moves."
Tsunade, on her knees beside them, locked eyes with Minato through the crack in the door. She stood, lifted her heavy tits to eye level, and poured sake down her cleavage, letting it drip over her nipples. Then she dipped a finger in the slick and licked it off, deliberate and filthy—never breaking that gaze.
She whispered something to Kushina that made her arch backward with a strangled moan.
Sarutobi thrust in, slamming Kushina so hard the desk rattled. She screamed, legs thrashing, hands digging into the wood. "Yes—don't stop, fuck me harder!"
Jiraiya yanked Kushina's hair, tipping her head back so Minato saw every gasp. "You hear that?" he shouted. "Your wife loves how we fuck her silly." He shoved his cock past Kushina's lips, forcing her to suck him like a toy.
Minato's world narrowed to the ache in his chest and the torture in his cock. Heat and shame roared through him.
Inside, Kushina choked and drooled while Sarutobi's hips slammed up mercilessly. Jiraiya's dirty whispers filled the room. Tsunade stood off to the side, fingering herself, narrating every thrust for Minato's benefit. "Look at her, Minato. Your little wife's never been this wild."
Then Kushina crashed over the edge again, screaming without words, torn between pleasure and humiliation. Minato pressed his forehead against the doorjamb, breath ragged, eyes watering. He thought he might break.
But the show wasn't over. Jiraiya grabbed Kushina's hair one last time and forced her voice clear: "Who fucks you best?"
Kushina gasped, broken: "All of you. Anyone but him."
Minato's heart shattered. Tsunade's cruel smile flickered in his mind even as tears slipped down his cheeks.
Then Sarutobi swung his arm, yanked Kushina aside, and Jiraiya spat, "Round two!"
Before Minato could brace himself, the door burst open. Tsunade—breasts still dripping with sake—was shoved inside. Her golden hair tumbled, eyes wide with shock. Jiraiya and Sarutobi closed in, grinning like predators.
"Your turn, legendary Sannin," Jiraiya purred, grabbing her by the hair. "Show him what he's been missing."
Tsunade's breath hitched. Sarutobi tore off her robe, exposing her flushed body. He slapped her ass so hard it chimed against his palm. Jiraiya knelt, yanked her legs apart, and plunged in from the front while Sarutobi lined up behind.
Tsunade's gasp turned into a guttural moan as both men drove into her, hot and thick. Jiraiya's hand yanked her head back; Sarutobi's thrusts drove her pelvis onto his cock. They pounded her in perfect sync—one filling her tight mouth, the other filling her wet cunt.
She sagged between them, moaning, dribbling saliva and cum. "Oh God—Jiraiya, Sarutobi—yes!" she cried, voice raw. Her free hand slapped her own breast, chest heaving.
Minato could only watch through the crack, every nerve aflame. Tsunade's eyes flicked to his for a moment—pleasure, humiliation, invitation—all at once. Then she bit her lip and arched, riding their rhythm.
The room filled with wet slaps and rough grunts. Kushina slumped, spent, while these two Sannin destroyed Tsunade, her moans drowning out everything. Her body trembled; her nails scored the desk.
"Look at her, Minato," Jiraiya taunted, leaning in to whisper in Tsunade's ear. "Your lady's never been so filthy."
Tsunade's cry rose to a scream as she came—hard, incoherent—a raw explosion that rattled her bones. Sarutobi's final thrust shoved her over the edge again, and she collapsed against them, trembling and spent.
Jiraiya groaned and emptied himself in her mouth as Sarutobi filled her pussy with slow, deep pumps. Tsunade's legs went weak, knees buckling, but they held her up.
When it finally ended, Tsunade sagged against the edge of the chair, limp and spent, with both men panting hard beside her. They shot each other dark, knowing grins; both looked utterly satisfied.
Minato just stood there, frozen, with the raw heat building in his body. He couldn't move. Horror warred with desire as the four of them collapsed there, battered and ruined, two women and two men tangled together, skin slick with sweat and something like shame. The show should have been over, but Minato already knew he would never outrun what he'd witnessed here.