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(X) She could settle for non-penetrative sex with her thighs.
Withal these thoughts, Mononobe Futo was, above everything, an enlightened woman. Or, more rigorously, a moral one. The distinction was somedeal of an import. It told apart those women who achieved their ends with wiles and ample busts from those who, occasionally, found themselves in the intimate presence of eminent men who wished, among mutual assent and respect, to relieve some of the stress contingent in courtly life – commonly ahead of delivering on seminal decisions.
Futo had never beguiled a man. A few she may have coaxed – and reached certain agreements with others still. Mostly, however, Futo had paved her Way. When it had run parallel to that of someone else, she had welcomed the opportunity for exchange. When those Ways had run astride, she would take subtle pains in order to preserve both. Futo had never, not once, hindered on purpose the natural course of the world; even her disgust and culling of youkai, for which she had been reproved, furthered their existence in the end – which was Gensokyo’s purported goal and therefore a good deed of a sort. When Water flowed, Futo let it; when Wind blew and fire burned, Futo ushered on their rage. That had been the one immutable constant of her life.
The one lesson her blood brother had implanted deeper than anything else.
And so, she would impose nothing on her younger, more squeamish one – even if it was, expressly, the thing they both longed for. Once Handai Mu ironed out those humps in his Way which stymied his desires – once he judged himself ready – then Futo would give him her full, willing cooperation. The whole, unbridled stretch. Until his hips were trembling from fatigue and her still, immortal womb was pumped tight with his youthful, virile seed. Until she couldn’t walk to the temple’s baths without having to lean against a nearby wall. Until, weeks afterwise, she may say beyond the palest shade of doubt she was well and truly sterile.
These, however, were aspirations for the future. Her first, adulterous, impregnation sex in a thousand years could bear to wait a little longer. For the present, Futo would have to content with something that would satisfy as well her brother’s picky sense of loyalty as the aching, wanton need his disloyal fingers had stirred up under her bellybutton.
And, for fair, ideas were not exactly in a dearth.
Futo released her brother’s raring member, and, with a stray tug of petulance, removed herself from his lap. Where his fingers flaked away from her thigh, a patch of warm, sticky juices glistened atop Futo’s faintly Sun-bronzed skin. Mu’s face betrayed his dejection at her departing closeness by flashing its tongue across his quirking lips. Futo eked out an arch smile. What a ham-handed adulterer her young brother made.
“Fie, fine, Mu,” said Futo, having only to slightly inflate her frustration of being denied her long-teased sex. “Some else a place, then. If you so retribution fear.”
Mu’s eyes unenthusiastically let go of her naked hips to give her a wavering stare. “… Where?”
Now Futo did dare an enticing smile. Squeezing together her stocky legs, she went up onto her knees. Slowly, with exaggerated difficulty, Futo pushed her own fingers in between her thighs – where the supple, limber flesh split to become her loins. She began to part it, forming a triangular gap: with her thighs as the walls and her smooth, moist groin as the roof.
“Herein?” she proposed.
Mu did not leap out of his trousers as she might have doltishly hoped, but his member almost overtook him to the feat. It’d have had to travel faster than Mu’s repartee, however, and scant aught in Gensokyo could boast that stripe of speed.
“… And here I’d contrived,” he said, mock-tragically, “that I could get that blowjob and swim it as a comparative piece.”
Futo stared him down, keenly ignoring his linguistic error. “Then you do nay this want?”
Had her brother a winch attached to his head, he could have roped up a bucket of well-water in a trice. “No, no, no—!” he sputtered. “Gods, blasted, I do want it.” His eyes wandered down to give the soft, snug hole between her thighs a covetous glance. “Yes, let’s do that, damn it. I want to feel that for myself. Only, I… See, I couldn’t get your mouth out of my imagination.”
Futo’s eyes were rolling ahead she thought to roll them. “Mu brother?” she said.
“I a woman of my word am.”
Mu swallowed. “… Yes.”
“And I promised I would fain you this blow-job give. Afterwise this. Why, Mu—” she feigned a fresh idea, “if you should me thereafter to the baths accompany, we may that part of our clean-up make. And—” she increased her bid ahead Mu may decline it, “should you crave more still, then to my chambers eft my rites with the Crown Prince in the evening come. Thereon, you may me another special massage give – and I polish you afore bed in return shall. What say you?”
Mu’s Adam’s apple lurched up and down as the bull-headed man weighed her immoral offer against his crumbling conscience.
Truthfully, Futo’s inward opinion on oral sex was, at best, middling. It was, indeed, pleasant to be on its receiving end; giving it, however, was a draining, filthy ordeal, with usually scarce in the way of reciprocation. The beauty of what Mu crudely hight a “blow-job” lay not in the member having a palatable taste or feeling nice in the mouth. It did in the sense of domination. It lay in that look behind a man’s eyes as she gazed up into them, whilst his manhood was at the mercy of a pair of sucking lips and loving tongue. It did, betimes, in him seizing the lady’s hair in an attempt to wrest back some control – yet failing always to endure her skilful torture moments later.
With an insidious thrill, Futo decided that this look would suit her brother something fabulous.
“… I was walking out tonight, too,” Mu, at last, rasped out. “I hope you know that, Futo.”
Futo smiled in turn. “It much your own choice is, Mu. I’ll fain my side maintain. Now, mayhap…?”
The question she had left dangling sliced apart his doubt on the return swing; and Mu did rise as well onto his knees, fingers already busy at the twine keeping his trousers decent. It gave way to Mu’s enthusiasm, and let them to fall loose from his waist. The short underpants her brother wore beneath poised to burst at the seams. Mu pulled them down also.
His hardy truncheon of a member struck out of his shaven groin at an eager, suggestive angle. Futo, quitting her thighs for the moment, leaned forward to lay her hands on her brother’s wide, muscular shoulders. She dragged them down along his chest, together with her nose – plucking the buttons of his shirt top to bottom, and purring all the while like a ruttish cat. Mu’s member wobbled with unsure excitement when Futo arrived at its home level and pressed her face against its harsh underside.
Stubble pricked at her chin and left cheek. Albeit she had only ever pestered Mu about his upmost cap of hair, once in the vicinity of a razor, her brother had taken on and expanded on her request. Without its curly nest, its whole length exposed, Mu’s erection cut a sleek, creamy and utterly delicious sight. Futo skimmed down the bared shaft, until the top parted her hair and her nose was buried beside its root.
Then, she sucked in a long, craving lungful of its gamey, manlike smell.
Her head came awash with all sorts of images as her body remembered all those secret, debauched circumstances wherein her nose had been assailed by this same, heady scent. The memories needled the wee small voice in her heart, which told her – from the perspective of deathless centuries – that she had, perhaps, not been a moral woman after all.
Futo of now elbowed it aside, and focused on her brother’s smooth, robust erection. Awhile, she toyed in her fuzzy thoughts with the notion of giving Mu’s stubborn member a brief, intense introduction to her mouth. Awhile, she searched his smell for traces of the woman who had reportedly done the same (and more) earlier in the day. At length, she found naught except more of Mu’s wonderful, manly odour.
It was among a lug of black, foiled humour that Mu grasped her by the chin and pulled her away from her prize. Yet, Futo had but to peek up at her brother’s short-tempered face for that to upend once more. And, not only it. For Mu was gently pushing on her hips in order to let them know he would very much oblige if they but swung around and let him insert himself from behind.
Tingly from her ears down to her bare toes, Futo thrust herself away from her brother’s crotch. Straightening up, she picked up the skirts of her uniform – and turned around to present Mu with her round, defenceless rear. A shiver of base, perverted glee bowed her back when she felt Mu make a grab for her hips and shuffle close. He slid his hard, warm tool up along the valley between her buttocks. Futo sensed the tip come to a rest a little below her waist.
Mu released a deep, comfortable sigh at her back. “… Futo?”
Futo smiled. “Mm… Yes, Mu brother?”
His hands shifted to sink their fingertips in her soft, welcoming flesh. “Have I remembered, ever,” he asked her, “to say you have an awesome butt?”
Futo giggled her reply. “Nay, Mu” she said. “Albeit you’ve oft to it grope remembered. On divers occasions.”
Mu managed an embarrassed scoff. “That. Yes, well. Your legs are terrific, too.”
“Fie. You have noticed.”
“Yes. Most each time they were threatening to crush me, Futo.”
“Mm. Heyday,” she purred back. “Then this your chance to revenge for all erewhile assaults is.”
“… That is a dangerous precedent.”
“You a brave man are, Mu.”
Mu made a disparaging sound. “Too brave sometimes, I’m finding.”
All the same, he drew back his hips, and dragged the tip of his tool down the middle of her rear. Then, he stuffed it up and under the cleft where her buttocks became her thighs. Futo kept them squeezed together – counting in full on Mu’s stiffness and the juices she’d been leaking since his earlier fingering to carry his member through.
Mu steadied himself by her waist… and pushed.
His member’s plump head wedged the meat of her thighs. Futo felt a slight hitch in its infiltration when the skin scabbard was peeled back from its tip. Mu grunted, and resumed his push. At last, his member peeked out from the other side – stripped bare and shiny from her secretions. Her brother pushed on, to the point where her butt was squished tight against his stomach. He let go, extracted himself from Futo’s tight grip – and then plunged back in.
Twice as fast, thrice as easy, now it was properly greased, his member slid to the base into the opening between her thighs.
“Mm… Mu?” said Futo. “Should you more upwise aim… it would me as well stimulate.”
Mu made a wordless, affirmative hum. He drew back – slightly adjusted his hips – and thrust in.
Futo tensed, moaning in a quivering voice, when the slick glans of his member bumped into and spread her nether lips, caught her clitoris, and made it ride down his remaining length whilst he completed the push.
“Mmh… Nn… Yes,” Futo cooed, “like that – do it like that.”
“That felt like it almost went in,” noted her brother.
“Nn… Nay,” she lied. “Nay at all. If you to sheathe yourself inside me and kiss my womb want – tell. I will myself for you hold open.”
Her brother spat a chuckle clipped by choking arousal. “And who— fuh. Who here is the minx, say?”
Futo reached around to give one of his arms a twisting pinch. “I mine own desires well wit, Mu,” she said; “and I wherewith to talk know.”
“For now,” grunted her brother, “let us forget I asked.”
Nay ever, Futo promised inside.
The thought faded away into fatuity once Mu resumed their pretend-sex. Soon as he found an anchored pose – knees out wide and thrusting upwards – Futo’s mulish brother also found his pace. Quicker and quicker, he thrust his long, savage member among her clinching thighs, whilst his spear-shaped glans poked, rubbed, parted and overall galled her dripping privates. Futo watched, in giddy fascination, as Mu briefly paused – his erection sticking out from under her groin – and a rich glob of pre-come oozed out of its tip. Her brother lost no time in pulling back and smearing this all over her thighs and outer labia.
Ahead much too long, the room’s air was rife with unmistakeable sounds of copulation. Futo’s lewd moaning, Mu’s ursine wheezing, the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of her buttocks colliding with his waist and the squelching of their flirting genitals… None of those could have been mistaken for familial bonding by any chance pair of ears passing outside. That some might be stoked a fire under Futo’s aroused mind. To at last deliver on those rancorous rumours – that she and her exotic brother were in an immoral, bodily relationship – would have been ironic, but liberating, justice.
And the prude Toziko… what would she say?
Almost Futo pitied her old-maidish daughter when a shiver of pure, carnal pleasure crept up the length of her back. Mouth locked in a foolish, mushy grin, she laboured to compose her thoughts – whilst Mu’s member kept sliding up between her thighs and spreading out her moist petals. With every noisy, abrupt end of each shove, her stiff nipples chafed on the innermost layer of her uniform – each such rub a tiny shock of arousal tightening her chest. Futo groped behind and gripped onto one of the hands yoking her hips at the wrist. It did naught to slow Mu’s assault of her thighs, of course; but it made her feel a touch more in control.
Toziko. That was who she’d been thinking of. Such a ravishing figure, in life and death alike. Had Toziko but bent a finger to the purpose, she could fain have any man within the temple at her beck and call; even Mu, the seat of obstinacy that he was, spoke casually of courting Futo’s buxom daughter. Nor was Toziko innocent of these matters. Not once had the Lord Taishi ever complained of His spouse’s bedchamber manner; and Futo had it in utmost confidence that her daughter had educated her husband very well. No. Toziko was aught except innocent.
Why, then, she would confute those advances now, when death and change had sweepingly voided her marriage… Futo could ill understand. Neither may she muse further on her daughter’s priggish Way, ahead Mu’s feral panting cohered out of the blue into semi-civilised words. Albeit, not to be overtaxed, his civility ended well above his waist.
“Fuh… Futo?” he huffed.
“Nn… Nyes, Mu brother?”
“Could we—” He smacked his hips roughly against her rear. “… Could we switch around a bit? If I come now… it’ll go all over my blankets.”
Futo laughed – a small, breathless laugh. “Ahh… Already, Mu?”
“Getting there,” Mu assured. “Slowly… but certainly. Your legs feel great… you know?”
“Nn. Heyday… And my vagina?”
Her brother groaned, rubbing his tool hard along her silky opening. “… It’s the best.”
Futo drove her hips back, arresting Mu’s next push. “Want you… Mmnn. Want you to it longer enjoy, Mu?”
“Gods, yes,” gasped her brother.
Futo thrilled at the desire in his voice. “… Then here.” So saying, she slid the hand off of his arm to touch it flat on a particular area of his stomach. As if terribly ticklish, the stomach went taut under her palm. “Here. On this point focus. Sense you the Wind within? Yon pressure mounting?”
Mu scoffed. “Do I ever.”
“Then on it seize,” ordered Futo, “and Damp it.”
There was a fleet pulse of surprise ahead Mu spoke again. “… Um, Futo?” he said. “I’ve… I’ve been doing that. Whenever we bathed, actually. To keep myself from getting… you know. Overexcited.”
That on plenty things clarifies, thought Futo. Still, she reproached him, “Wrong Wind, Mu. Fie. We to your release postpone need. Nay to your lust suppress. More nearby your lowest dantian. Whence your potence to pour forth yearns. Have you it?”
Mu stilled. “… I think?”
Futo waited the tense, tantalising heartbeats it took her brother to grasp and re-direct the Feng of his body. Then, Mu released a small, startled breath.
“… Huh,” he said at last. “Well, I’ll never…”
She sensed Mu’s body give a nod. “Yes,” he admitted. “Yes. I did. I don’t feel any… uh, worse – but I can tell…” He struggled for appropriate terms. “… Yeah, I can tell,” he vaguely summed up. “Though, this… This is sensational. Men would kill to learn this, Futo.”
Futo smiled. “It a grave secret of the arts is,” she revealed. “Nay to be swith shared. You fain still tire and chafe will,” she cautioned; “yet, you shan’t erupt ere you wish.”
Mu swallowed it down. “… Where did you learn this, Futo?”
Futo’s smile warmed up on her face. “… Only,” she confessed, “from my brother.”
Mu’s pause bespoke his surprise. “… Your brother?”
“Yes. Yes, him,” sighed Futo. “Moriya. Of the Mononobe clans-head. My blood brother.”
“He was Taoshi, too… wasn’t he?”
“Yes. The truest.”
At her rear, her new brother absorbed this new, dubious knowledge. Then, he chuckled his incredulousness. “You must remind me,” he scoffed, “to honour his research somehow.”
Futo hadn’t the opportunity to avow he already was. For Mu pushed her off of his reinvigorated erection, and then slammed it back among her well-lubricated thighs. He began to grind his long member back and forth, back and forth, under her drooling crotch – his new ability having stripped all tact and shyness from his motions. Futo collapsed into loose moaning as he returned them to their previous, savage pace, and scraped her sensitive places on the ridge of his glans. For the minute in consequence – or five, or twenty, impossible to tell – the blue-ranked aide of Toyosatomimi Miko reverted into the moaning, twitchy mess that her previous brother, now a thousand years dead, had regularly used to make her. Futo’s current one was nowise that wise, nowise that bright… but his long, thick member felt even better on her privates after so long a drought.
And then, it felt better still. For upon the next stroke, Mu’s flagging hips misaligned his thrust.
As smoothly as if it’d been designed specially for this purpose, Mu’s plump glans spread her drooling lower lips and sank inside. Futo’s breath escaped her chest in a lewd gasp, her whole body stiffening, when the tip of her brother’s member rammed into the secret spot on her front wall. Her vagina eagerly gave way – accepting his magnificent length – until the bare glans slammed against the mouth of her womb.
In her lonelier moments, Futo had stuck an assortment of odd and odder objects inside herself. Her fingers, pom-poms, a broom-handle, a stout cucumber spirited away from the temple kitchens – even an obscenely true likeness of a man’s organ, sculpted from a dark, varnished wood, which she had purchased, half as a jape, at one of the Human Village’s motley fairs. Instantly and by half, Mu’s stiff, warm member outperformed them all. Futo bit down on a lip, eyes rolling back in their sockets, when – through sheer, frantic momentum – her brother towed back his hips, and speared her squirming, wet tunnel once more.
Mu growled, like the western barbarian he was – his gravelly voice mingling with Futo’s long, ecstatic whine. Then, as roughly as beseemed his broad posture, he yanked his fat member out of her hungry, clinging depths – scooping out her soft folds, snagging her clitoris, and spraying their combined fluids all across the bedsheets.
Absurdly, with scarce in the way of warning, Futo’s vagina clenched in the onset of a sudden, vicious orgasm.
White, hot bliss turned her thoughts into mush and her knees into wet paper. Futo crumpled onto her face – legs spread out, butt still in the air – moaning into her brother’s blankets and feeling her defiled thighs tremble under the weight of her twitching, bucking hips. Sweet, wonderful release saw her slump sideways, then roll onto her back. Futo tucked up her legs and rode the waves of pleasure shuddering up her compact, immortal body.
Her first orgasm from sex since her resurrection proved longer and more distracting than any she had given herself on her own. All but, and she would have missed it when Mu lifted her legs upright and hugged them to his chest. Her brother reached for something below… and, a second afterwise, the head of his unsatisfied member poked out from between her thighs. Mu steadied himself – kissed both her calves – and then started to hump.
Futo watched her handsome brother sate himself on her toned legs. Once his thrusting grew hectic, she rolled up the bottom of her uniform to expose her navel. None too soon, her perfect, tan skin was splattered with her brother’s fresh, virile seed. Mu’s orgasm, compared to hers, was short, concise, and over too soon. Spent, limping, her brother swayed back onto his seat, where he schooled his breath back to a semblance of control.
Futo gazed at the mess he’d left in his wake. Coasting on the backwash of her orgasm, Futo scooped some of the milky fluid up onto her fingers. Her brother’s semen stuck lovingly to her nails and skin. Futo sat up, and fanned out her legs.
Then, for little aught except the perverse relish of it, she stuffed the sperm-coated fingers into her aching, sensitive vagina. Her walls gave them a weak, gratified squeeze.
Hardly what she had wanted, this… but every journey began with a step.