Chapter 1130: Tomiko’s Ass in Kasumi’s Juices
Kasumi glanced down at her kimono—it was tied correctly, the fabric draped over her body as it should be. But then—
Her hand drifted downward, her fingers brushing against the futon beneath her.
And that’s when she felt it.
[It’s... wet...] Her fingers froze, her eyes widening as she pressed her palm against the fabric. The dampness was undeniable. Thick. Warm. Sticky.
[My crotch... and even the bed...] Her heart pounded in her chest as the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
[I had a wet dream... of my son-in-law... OMG... OMG... OMG...!]
Her face burned with shame, her mind reeling as the fragments of the dream came rushing back—Jack’s tongue, his hands on her breasts, the way her body had betrayed her, the way she had squirted all over him.
[No... no, no, no... This can’t be real...] She bit her lip hard, her body trembling as she tried to process it. The wetness beneath her was proof. The ache between her legs was proof. The scent of her arousal—musky, thick, and unmistakable—was proof.
She glanced around the room, her eyes darting to where Haruna and Yuko lay peacefully, completely unaware of their mother’s shameful secret.
[If they knew... If they found out... I’d never be able to face them again...] She swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear.
[I need to... I need to clean this up... before anyone wakes up...] But even as she thought it, her body still throbbed, her pussy still sensitive from the dream’s aftershocks. The scent of her squirt was faint but unmistakable, clinging to the air around her.
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the soaked, shameful wet spot, her fingers trembling as her mind raced between denial and the undeniable truth. The dampness beneath her was real.
The throbbing between her legs was real. And the memory of Jack’s tongue, his hands, his hunger—it all felt too real to be just a dream.
Then, as if drawn by some forbidden instinct, her gaze shifted—first to my face, peaceful in pretend-sleep, then slowly, inevitably, downward.
Her breath caught in her throat.
There it was.
A clear, unmistakable tent in my pajama pants, the fabric strained over the hard, thick outline of my erection. The sight sent a jolt of heat straight to her already-sensitive pussy, making her clench involuntarily.
A fresh trickle of arousal escaped her, soaking into the already-wet futon.
Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as she stared, her mind spinning.
[He is hard... in his sleep...] Her thoughts were a whisper, laced with shock and something darker, something hungrier. [Will he be as big as in the dream...?]
The memory of my cock—thick, veiny, pulsing in her hand—flashed behind her eyes, and her body reacted before she could stop it. Her nipples hardened beneath her kimono, her thighs pressing together as if to ease the ache that had only grown worse.
Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she shook her head violently, her inner voice screaming in horror and shame.
[No! NO! What are you thinking, Kasumi?! You have gone crazy! STOP!]
Her face burned as she tore her gaze away, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure someone would hear it. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could erase the image of my hard cock from her mind.
[This is wrong... This is SO wrong...] She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to regain control. [He’s Haruna’s boyfriend... even Yuko’s Boyfriend ... My daughter’s man... And I—I’m their MOTHER!]
But even as she scolded herself, her body betrayed her. Her pussy throbbed, her mind replaying the feel of my tongue, the sound of her own muffled moans, the way her juices had soaked the bed.
[I should be ashamed... I AM ashamed...] Yet, her eyes flickered back—just for a second—to the tent in my pyjamas.
Kasumi’s heart nearly stopped as Tomiko’s sleepy voice cut through the thick, suffocating silence of the room.
"Sister... what happened? Are you not feeling comfortable... do you need your sleeping pills...?"
The sound of her sister’s concern was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her still-throbbing, shame-drenched body.
Kasumi froze, her fingers still hovering over the soaked, humiliating wet spot beneath her. She squeezed her thighs together, as if that could hide the evidence of her forbidden climax.
"Tomiko... I-I’m fine..." she stammered, her voice trembling with panic and guilt. "I just... I just want to drink some water, that’s all..."
Her mind raced. Oh god, oh god, oh god—she can’t see this. She CAN’T see this.
But it was too late.
Tomiko sat up, rubbing her eyes, her hair tousled from sleep. "Ok... I’ll bring it..."
Before Kasumi could stop her, Tomiko stood up—and then paused.
Her eyes locked onto the futon.
Kasumi’s stomach dropped.
Tomiko’s brow furrowed as she tilted her head, her gaze sharpening in the dim light. "Sister... what happened...? Are you feeling hot...? Or do you have a fever...? Are you sweating too much...?"
Kasumi’s breath hitched. No. No, no, no—
Tomiko reached out, her hand moving toward the wet spot—
"NO—!"
Kasumi shouted in her mind, but the word died in her throat. She shook her head frantically, her hands flying out as if to block her sister’s touch, but it was too late.
Tomiko’s fingers pressed against the damp fabric, her eyes widening slightly as she felt the wetness.
Then, without hesitation, she sat down on the futon—right on top of Kasumi’s squirt—and reached for her sister’s forehead, her palm warm against Kasumi’s skin.
Kasumi flinched, her entire body tensing as she felt the wetness seep through the fabric beneath her sister. She’s sitting in it. She’s SITTING in it.
"No... no..." Kasumi whispered again, her voice barely audible, her hands clutching at the fabric of her kimono as if it could shield her from the truth. "I’m fine... I’m fine, Tomiko, really..."
But the words tasted like ash in her mouth. Her face was on fire, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. The scent of her arousal—thick, musky, and unmistakable—lingered in the air, and she prayed that Tomiko wouldn’t notice it, wouldn’t understand it.
Tomiko frowned, her sleepy confusion giving way to concern. "You’re shaking..." she murmured, her thumb brushing Kasumi’s cheek, her touch gentle but probing. "And your face is so red... Are you sure you’re not sick?"
Kasumi forced a smile, her lips trembling as she shook her head. "Don’t worry about me... I’m fine..." she lied, her voice sweet but strained. She hoped her sister would believe her, that she would let it go.
But Tomiko wasn’t convinced.
"I’ll go get a new futon and blanket..." Tomiko said, her eyes flicking down to the soaked fabric beneath them. "This is already soaked in your sweat... You can’t sleep in this."
Kasumi’s stomach twisted. Sweat. Tomiko thought it was sweat. For now, at least, the lie held. But the wetness was too much, the spot too large, too obvious. And worse—Tomiko hugged her tightly, pulling her close, their bodies pressing together.
Kasumi froze.
The warmth of her sister’s embrace was comforting, but it was also torture. Their breasts pressed together, the soft, heavy weight of Tomiko’s tits against her own sending a jolt of unwanted arousal through her already-sensitive body.
The fabric of their kimonos did little to hide the heat, the pressure, the intimacy of the moment.
