Prep

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“You have a younger brother?! How come you never told me?!”

“It’s not like you needed to know. We’re not engaged.”

“Well, still… Should we be doing this, then?”

“Of course!” Yoruichi immediately countered, having already straddled her protégé’s waist, untying the knot of his sash and dipping his trousers enough to bring forth his swollen weapon. She pressed in, her grin wide and taunting as she leered down at the meek teenager lucky enough to be her student. “What? Are you afraid he’ll come and steal me away?”

Ichigo didn’t answer outright, but she could practically see the thought bubble that’d formed in his head with his interpreted version of her little brother in mind: a huge, hulking behemoth with deep-set eyes and a scowl he was born with. When Yoruichi said that Yushiro resembled herself, she had to amend – with no small bit of annoyance – that they looked alike as humans!

“Why does it bother you so much?” she finally asked, dabbing Ichigo with her finger to his forehead. “Do you hate the idea of me with another man?”

Again, he flushed hard. “He’s your brother! Why would I worry about that?!” Though there was little he could say against his possessive jealousy; he didn’t like the idea of his teacher having a wandering eye and a taste for excitement. But her filthy mouth was oftentimes the culprit leading to this secluded moment.

“Heh!” Despite the sturdiness of his body, it took just one hand to shove him back against the slab of rubble they’d chosen; a nice little niche amongst the ruins of the Reiokyu. “How long do you think the others will believe that we’re out scouting?” She squeezed up against him, and he could not help glancing down to watch the breast meat swelling from compression. His mouth opened to make a shuddering sound. Her hand had already started to work his shaft carefully, expertly. She nuzzled the tip with her thumb. “Do you really want to continue asking me things?”

Ichigo looked at her now, her sly face, her cat eyes. He grabbed fistfuls of her ass in reply; glorious globes daringly exposed like Inoue’s bust: only enough shown to make the men gawk.

Yoruichi chuckled, taking a hand to curl at the back of his neck. He was secretively eager, hesitant to reveal the lusty teen within, so she liked to play with him. She led him to her, tilting her head just slightly to the left to properly interlock their lips. As always, she led with a brave tongue.

Whenever she kissed him like this, tongue invading first before her lips sealed the breech, he always surged, as if it was his inhibitions weighing his body down. But her kiss rid him of that excess, and all was frenzy afterward. He held her ass tight, but there were other places to explore; her bust, as always, was most pressing. Up her curves, along her flat stomach, her arms feminine but sturdy with muscle; he popped a breast out from her leotard, and the other followed with just a slight tug of his hooked thumb. Her breasts had emerged, and not a moment was spared. Ichigo unlocked their lips, ignoring the strands of spit spread between his and her gasping mouths, and immediately when to her tits.

That boy who had been so bashful in her hot springs; it was all a disguise, a cleverly-crafted identity to keep up for appearances at school and home. Yoruichi leered, stuffing a moan against her lips as Ichigo’s tongue darted across her plump nipple. He teased the crest first, running just the tip of his tongue lightly across her brown skin, her darker nipple, playing as the areola contracted and the bud peaked.  Then he sucked it all in, cockier now as he nursed like a starved babe.  He switched frequently, though, not favoring one over the other.

“Do we have time for this?” she jibed as the first bead of sweat rolled from her temple, the first jolt of desire stoking hot flames of her core. Ichigo looked up with those baby eyes of his, the trademark scowl receding for their privacy. She cupped his chin, moving him with ease like she possessed him, and again, he was flattened against the stone.

Her strong leg curled up against him, her naked thigh teasing against his. She had ceased his play, yet hers was not to be interrupted. When he uttered a sound – the start of a plea – her pelvis shoved hardagainst him, forcing him to feel the crease of her hot crotch underneath her outfit. He shuddered like she had sapped his strength.

“You need to be more controlled than this,” she purred, readying him for Yhwach, yet expressing none of the concern for the fate of existence itself. Just perhaps, with everything hanging in the balance, this was more necessary than ever! She rubbed her pussy against him, easing him along the groove until he shouted. And in these barren ruins, a shout could reach the distance of an army’s.

That drive that he needed, the push that always saw him through despair and to victory, turned her about in a trice. Not easy to catch the Goddess of Flash by surprise, but Ichigo was not her prize pupil for nothing.

She didn’t complain when her sternum was shoved to the spot he had just been stuck to. She liked this position; loved it when Ichigo pulled her ass outward to him, bent her top half forward. Her tits squished against the hard concrete slab, cushioning her as she braced against her willing, crouching student.

Her leotard was dealt with, stretched tight across her left cheek and held there by his thumb.

The heat of his breath… but not on her pussy.

She grinned – not her cocky, mischievous grin, but one of unadulterated pleasure – as she eased back against the wet pass. She had taught him many things. This, he had picked up on his own, from his own desires. The reservations had long been shed.

“Ichigo,” she exhaled, a sound between a giggle and a gasp. Her fingertips dragged against the white surface; her right hand eventually took hold of her breast, molding it, her fingernail mimicking Ichigo’s circular motions behind her at her nipple. She pinched hard. She preferred firmer treatment, though Ichigo’s natural gentleness had its own charms.

He tested her. Mouth preoccupied, washing layers upon her, his hand – the one not holding her spandex aside – was free to explore. He caressed the smooth ebony, pinching lightly at her muscle before heading to her core. He cupped, felt the heat against his palm, and inserted his thumb. The wet grip closed around him, a tight fit even with this. His fingers flexed to methodically grind against her crest. As expected, the cat woman purred and the muscles of her thighs clenched.

He rose at once, and she felt his weight lean to the curve of her back. He didn’t wait. That sure thrust of his found her, and her narrow passage stretched wide around him. The pain had long since receded. They liked it like this; coarse and sudden. The grab of her ass invited him deeper, and he received the invitation swiftly. She couldn’t compose herself quick enough to hold in the startled gasp of him rushing up her colon. His girth stretched her tight.

“You were against Inoue’s clothes,” she whispered over her shoulder to him with a haughty grin.

“Shut up,” was his hoarse reply. He shoved down at the space between her shoulders, supporting her hips as he started to ride her. Thinking of Inoue now, when he and Yoruichi ‘abandoned’ her, Chadand Ganju, in that white getup that her large breasts practically spilled out of…! Seething, Ichigo caught both of Yoruichi’s breasts – comparable to Orihime’s – and squeezed them to their coffee-black nipples.

His hips smacked hard and loud to her rump. Tight as her body was, each collision made the cheeks wobble. He kept hitting hard, releasing one breast to grab a palmful of ass; he grabbed with a loud smack! that made Yoruichi groan. Her lips curled slightly, her pearly teeth gleaming in a hiss of pleasure. His testicles swung into her pussy like a pendulum as he plumbed her asshole.  It felt good, the product of her melting arousal glazing his pendulous balls; the draft the hot moisture caught and the subtle swat of wet-on-wet whenever he smacked…

The channel of her ass held fast not matter how hard he pitched his way into her. The tip of his shaft pried apart the receding tract, but the pathway never held; each thrust felt like the first, and neither of them worried about that. Ichigo just held her there, cupping her gratuitous rump and spreading her open; a view unhindered, he saw right where he was situated. He plugged her fully with a slow thrust, groaning in his throat as he watched the puckered ring swallow inch-by-inch his rigid cock.

No time for this! his conscious shouted, but he exhaled hotly and ran the paces to Yoruichi’s butt. He worked her open hard, though she had little recourse but to hold the slab or wind up on the floor with Ichigo ramming her from above. She’d already tried that with him before.

She thought about it, remembered it.

She liked it.

Ichigo was much more man, much more dominant than his girl-awkward guise let on. Ever since she first taught him, he would discover new ways to pleasure her. A long dollop of spit ran out of his mouth and hit her right on the asshole, adding to the lubrication before their rutting could grow uncomfortable. Yes, just like that, he knew what she wanted and how she liked it.

She reciprocated, though what man did not enjoy it when his woman reached between her legs to find his chariot of essence? His near-bestial grunts hitched, and he made a vulnerable whimper when she tugged on him. She leered over her shoulder, perspiration putting a glow to her excitement; he answered with furrowed eyebrows and a surge of inspiration. “Ah!” She broke first, her arms weakening so that she was shoved down to the debris. “Ichigo!” she whined. She could still teach him much, but stamina and power were his gifts to her. He hammered and pounded, refusing to let any part of his shaft remain with each forceful push. His upside-down hand stretched her ass cheeks wide apart, and for a moment, he stalled in deliberation.

Slow or hard?

He could watch ever millimeter sink into his coach’s asshole, savor every noise and tic she made… Or he could acknowledge that time was of the essence, that Yoruichi liked it fast and rough, and that he wanted to give it to her like that…

“Gah!” Yoruichi’s back arched profoundly, and she made a face of shock and submissiveness. Her tongue reached, drool arching down the corners of her gaping, screaming mouth, and her gaze set to the heavens beyond the Royal Palace. She came from that overwhelming play. Her innards held the invader like an ever-clutching fist that never lost its strength. The muscles welled up against him, putting pressure on his entrance, but never able to force him out. He stayed pompously, letting his balls rest against the folds of her undulating sex until the fluids sprayed refreshingly and warm over them, accompanied with a delighted squeal from everyone’s favorite feline female. He retracted once in a mechanical way; halfway only, and then plunged again, stimulating her over-stimulated body. The uncharacteristic wailing and squealing quicky transformed to delighted giggled as Ichigo helped keep her submerged in a wave of ecstasy. His sac swayed wetly, dripping of her release and still chastising her quivering quim with forcible smacks each time he dove.

Ichigo gave it to her. Each quick stab was deep and resonating. She was losing control of herself as much as he was, muscles twitching spontaneously, their feet sliding and struggling to find purchase. Hers stretched, her tiptoes performing an angle that braced harder against his rough pampering of her behind.

She was splendid, a miracle for him; a woman who bypassed his shyness and morality. He thanked her by flexing himself more, beating her colon open for his cock. “Yoruichi-san.” he breathed out with some difficulty. A hand went from her butt to grab her bust, possessing it jealously. He wheezed her name again, this time crashing down into her. Those long, hard thrusts had become desperate, whiny jabs, trying to pay the toll amount before he was spent.

Her skin was soft and smooth, even without the sweat he had her work up. Touching her was enough to coax him; holding her, he… “Yah!” His arm slipped from her tit and circled around her midsection, where her suit prevented skin-to-skin. He hated and loved it, though he cursed all the same. Knees buckling, he came to an abrupt halt. He heaved and huffed. With rickety force, he went front and back and in again, and then ended.

Yoruichi, body shuddering and swelling with steadying, deep breaths, wiggled her ass. His embedded prick moved like a joystick, its place in her rectum unyielding. She swayed again, and then regarded him with that cheeky smirk. “Are you waiting for Inoue to catch us?” she spurred him.

He gasped. A hard jolt against her ass. She tested him with that dirty talk, reminding him of the revealing of Orihime’s clothes. He felt the circulation pulse strongly through his column, plunging through the squeeze of her anus. He thought for sure he’d spill over, all efforts gone in an instant. He only unleashed a dollop of precum that stuck to her anal walls. He gave a breath of relief and kept his stillness. A single move might trigger him; even the pulse of his excited cock caused dangerous friction against her hugging insides.

Steadying her, he bumped subtly. She gave to him, sighing relaxedly as he slowly went back to his rhythm. Before very long, he was beating his meat into her at a frantic pace. Even after the break, it was obvious that whatever stamina recovered in that time was spent. Ichigo was done. With a shout equaling the intensity of defeating a fearsome rival, Ichigo stabbed deep to make Yoruichi-san bend backward again with a grateful squeal before evacuating all at once, leaving her a gaping hole.

He wrapped his moist dick in his hand and immediately began to stroke to finish himself off. Yoruichi reached back, holding her cheeks apart, her middle fingertips helping to hold her used hole open.

Go ahead~

Strings of white lanced out of him and streamed across the ebony of her ass. Some got on her hands; a few lucky shots stuck to her exposed insides even as her rim began to recede to its natural tightness, sealing the precious seed within. Seething and bracing on the small of her back with his other hand, Ichigo continued to pump himself until he dripped the last ounces of sperm onto her. Lines blotched, crisscrossed, and bled across her beautiful skin, some on her moved-aside spandex. Her hole had closed up, leaking a trickle of his cum to run along the line of her cunt.

“Damn,” he breathed, falling to a knee and panting heavily. He left his penis out. It dripped still, and he’d let the process continue until he was recovered.

As always, she recovered faster. She swept aside the load, scooping it all in a sticky mess stringing between her fingers. It came up to her mouth so that she could make a showing of her tongue taking sloppy samples of his flavor. She licked her lips greedily, savoring the strong taste.  “Are you more relaxed now?” she asked with white spittle running down the corner of her mouth.

Ichigo, tired and tingly, answered with a weak glare.

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“I… I don’t know if we should do this.” Orihime looked nervously to the side as Chad and Ganju gathered around her.

Ganju eyed her treats hungrily, slobbering at the mouth. “It’s fine! That idiot’s not here, so he’s not gonna mind. Now give me some of that!” He snatched up a handful of her treats, making her gasp. He popped one in his mouth without regard for her feelings, and he sucked.

“It’s alright, Inoue,” Chad consoled, and also scooped – more gingerly than Ganju – her treats. “Ichigo has his mind full. He won’t mind this.”

Orihime hoped he was right, but she had it on good authority – Tatsuki-chan – that Ichigo loved chocolate. For Chad and Ganju to take the homemade chocolates she had snuck on this journey… She hoped there’d be some left for him to try.

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