Chapter 8 - Tsunade's Midnight Game Part-2
Tsunade yanked down his trousers and boxers in a single, brutal motion, never once breaking eye contact with Minato. His cock sprang out, already throbbing, the tip flushed red and dripping thick, sticky pre-cum.
Tsunade grinned at the sight—a wild, wicked smirk—and spat, "Still holding back? Pathetic." Without warning, she shoved him so hard the side of the chair bit into his ribs. The pain seared, but Minato refused to flinch.
Tsunade spread her legs, straddling his lap so her pussy pressed hot and slick against his thigh, already soaking through. Her massive hand clamped down on his cock, squeezing at the base; her other hand dug sharp nails into his shoulder, hard enough to break skin.
"Look at me," she snarled, her golden eyes all fire and cruel amusement. "Don't you dare look away unless you want me to stop." She began stroking his cock, slow and merciless, her grip so tight the veins bulged under pale skin and the tip glistened obscenely.
"Ever fucked a woman like me?" she growled, leaning close until her sweat-slicked chest grazed his. Without hesitation, she bit into his neck, hard, marking him with her teeth.
"You'd ruin your perfect marriage just to taste this pussy," she hissed, grinding her thigh into his balls and crushing his cock with her fist. Her breath was sake-fume hot and heavy in his face. Not even Kushina let him loose like this.
She licked along his throat then clamped her teeth on his earlobe, twisting his cock cruelly in her palm. It wasn't about drawing out moans; she wanted to break him. And she was winning. His hips jerked helplessly, cock drooling onto her fist. He was desperate, totally at her mercy.
"You want it so bad you'll beg, won't you?" she whispered, voice with challenge. She mashed her nipple against his lips. Instinct took over: he latched on and sucked, tongue and teeth working the swollen tip until she shuddered with a raw gasp. Sweat and sake, sharp and bitter, flooded his mouth.
She yanked his hair, tearing him away. Faces close, her eyes blazing, she purred, "Show me what you did last night. How you jerked off while your wife got fucked like a mutt in heat." Then she slapped his cheek, hard, snapping his head to the side.
Minato lost it. He lunged up, nearly tipping the chair, grabbed her hips and hoisted her off his lap. Tsunade just laughed, thrilled. He slammed her onto the desk, scattering papers everywhere.
The corner jabbed into his thigh, but she only spread her legs wider, ass in the air and tits dangling down, taunting him. "You gonna fuck the Hokage like an animal, or just play?"
He was shaking as he gripped her thighs, prying them apart, yanking her robe up until her mesh panties vanished into her ass crack.
He had seen Jiraiya's sketches, but nothing prepared him for the real thing: her incredible sweaty body and cunt, dripping through the mesh. He lined up the head of his cock, pressing it against her slick pussy lips.
Tsunade snarled, slamming her hips back and grinding the tip against her clit. The friction made both of them groan.
"Rip it," she panted, white-knuckled on the desk. "Don't be a fucking loser." He hooked two fingers under the mesh and tore it away, shredding the fabric and letting it drop to the floor. All he could see was her glistening pussy, soaking and hungry.
He grabbed her hair and shoved her face into the paperwork, then rammed his cock inside her in one savage thrust. Her pussy gripped him with molten heat and slickness.
Tsunade howled—not in agony, but in raw triumph—and slammed back into him, hips cracking against the desk edge. "That's it," she growled. "You want to make me scream? Do it, you pretty-boy. Fuck me like you mean it."
He pounded her, rough and relentless, hammering without rhythm, just pure need. His balls slapped against her, fingers digging furiously into her hips. She threw insults over her shoulder with every thrust: coward, poser, lightweight—their sting drove him harder.
He yanked her upright by the hair. She arched back and bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood. He squeezed her ass and plowed back in, the desk's wood burning his thighs. Her filthy moans filled the office, daring anyone to come and see. She clawed his wrist, dragging him in deeper.
Her taunts pushed him to fuck her even faster, slamming in and out, grinding until she squeezed him so tight he almost blew his load. She was close. He felt her quivering on his cock, tightening, hips jerking. He locked his hands on her waist and slammed her down, burying himself balls-deep. Tsunade screamed, loud and raw, shaking the whole office.
He didn't stop, riding out her spasms, every clench of her pussy draining what little control he had left. "Gonna finish?" she jeered between gasps.
"Do it, you little brat. Paint my pussy like you painted your hand last night." Minato snarled, "Not yet," and shredded her with even harder thrusts until her ass smacked the desk and she lifted off the surface in another wave.
She gripped his head and forced it down into her sweaty hair, still straining against the wood, still refusing to break eye contact with the stone wall.
Only then did he realize: he was actually making Tsunade come, wringing climax after climax out of her. Her pussy locked down, milking him viciously until he couldn't hold back.
His balls pulled tight, head throbbing with pressure. He groaned into her shoulder as he finally detonated, unloading every drop deep in her cunt.
No mercy; he kept fucking her until he was empty, his limbs numb, his cock finally going soft.
Tsunade milked him for every last twitch, rolling her pussy slow and deliberate around his shaft. When he finally pulled out, cum streamed down her thighs in thick ropes, splattering onto the scattered paperwork.
Tsunade braced herself on shaking arms, face wild and flushed, and turned to beam at him. She'd won—and they both knew it.