Desired Outcome Pt. 02

"Whoops? You ain't done yet, sweetie?" Helena asked innocently, her tone not at all matching her attire: she was clad in nothing but her bright lingerie: a stripped pink bra and matching frilly thong. Her dynamite body had lit up the dimly-lit room, her skin radiating, exuding sensual confidence, all the while acting like she'd done nothing wrong, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Akira took a big gulp. "I, I, I –"

"Aw how cute, you look so embarrassed," she bent down, her breasts right in Akira's eyeline, her pretty blue eyes looking right into his soul. "Don't be, it's normal to get..." she looked down at his erect member, then, said with extra added spice: "Excited."

Having her nearly-nude body so close to his drew a huge response from this excited demonic teen: Akira felt his body bubbling with hot emotion, it growing larger and larger with each passing second, his chest getting tighter, profuse amounts of sweat running down his face.

"I, umm, I," words failed him; he was too lost in his emotions, unable to string a sentence together.

"Aw...cute." Helena didn't move, she just continued to look right into his eyes, smiling, transferring her wicked intentions – and he felt them, felt those thoughts hit his soul with an iron fist of sexual delight. As she carried on gazing at him, his breathing got heavier, suddenly, everything got slower, his mind getting sluggish. Then, a surge of new energy drifted in, taking over, leading his actions. Akira felt his hands twitch, moving finger by finger, his shoulders bucking, a set of unknown inputs downloaded, ready to be executed – but, before he could, she stood up and ended their eye contact.

"You're a cute little thang" she said casually, "Gettin' all worked up," she scuffled his hair, then, kneeled down and kissed his forehead. The moment her lips touched his skin, the tight feelings all over his body went upward and submerged to that spot, resting and festering.

Helena turned and walked back through the shadows, Akira's eyes locked on her thong-adored toned behind.

"Hey, if it eva' gets too cold 'round here," she said in a hushed tone, "You can always snuggle up with me... I'll keep you warm, honey." she smiled with a devilish red glimmer in her eyes. She then walked away silently, through the darkness.

Akira tried to compose himself, but couldn't stop shaking. Then, he touched his forehead, where Helena had kissed him, felt around the area, then, looked at his fingers. He saw red. Thinking it was lipstick, he tried rubbing it off, but instead... it dripped off. It was blood: bright red blood.

***

Ch.04: Burst Limit

This bright sunny day started like any other for the domesticated Yumi Shibata: naked, on top, riding her white American lover David.

"Hmmm, keep going, that's it," he said as he kept his eyes firmly locked on his beautiful partner, her angelic face looking down at him with a sweat-stained glee, her breasts bouncing as his quick release got closer.

"Har-der?" she asked.

"Please," he put his hands on her enviable butt, and held on tightly as he felt a huge rush coming from his member, his sex-powered Asian dynamo having rode him to completion.

"Ohhh, I love it, love..." he pulled her down and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. "Ohhhh I love it!"

"Me...too," she gave him a warm, gentle smile, and then dismounted.

David watched Yumi walk naked around the bedroom, wiping down her milky-soft round sexy body with those satin bed sheets. This got David's member more than semi-attentive: he felt another go-around was in the books – but then remembered he had to go to work. Business-minded David got out of his bed, put his robe on, and went onward to the shower, making sure he not look at his woman, as just one glance at her sweaty nude bouncy frame would have him and her back in that bed.

Outside, in the garden, Akira and Robert were training, working on their jabs. As they did some gentle sparing, Akira thought about the two women in his life: his mother Yumi and his friend's mother Helena. Akira had blonde bombshell Helena foremost in his thoughts, remembering the events from that past night. As a teen that didn't have much experience with the ladies, Akira summarised that Helena was not showing sexual affection, but instead was being polite, nice to him, showing him kindness, and nothing else...though he wasn't fully convinced with that theory.

Having questions, Akira thought the best person to ask would be the person in front of him – Helena's son Robert.

"Ahh, Robert," he stopped fighting and stood still, "Umm, your mother, is she, ahh, umm, friendly to...boy?"

"Huh? Sorry dude, didn't get that."

"Umm, ahh, your mother is friendly woman to other boy? She...like boy?"

"Come on, dude," Robert said with a snarl, "I don't want to talk about my mom like that, okay? It's not cool, I don't like it when people at school do it, and I don't like it when you do it, too. Seriously, if you weren't my friend, I'd have punched you in the face already, so, please, don't mention her."

"I, ahh," Akira was taken aback by the hostile reaction. "I, sorry, not happen again."

"Thanks dude, now let's try that up-kick."

"Yes."

Back inside the house, in the spacious bathroom, inside the shower, David was scrubbing down, almost finished when Yumi walked in, holding her clothes and clad only in a robe.

"Yumi? That you?" he said from behind the curtain.

"Yes."

In that nanosecond, a naughty idea came into his head, one he couldn't deny himself. David tore open the curtain, revealing his naked wet self.

"Yumi, I think I can use your help with something," he said with a grin while holding his fully erect cock.

In that quick flash, Yumi's womanly desires had taken over: her son's pancakes could wait; first she needed to put her hands on her man's thick member. Yumi tore her robe off and strode over to David.

"I think I help," she said with a girly giggle. Yumi got behind David, placed her cheek on his broad rippling back, put one hand on his leg, and the other around his boa, tugging the wet, soapy instrument with her soft delicate hand.

"Ohhhh that's it," said David, "That's the way."

In the garden, Akira felt that familiar feeling from before, the same one he'd felt yesterday, the power that let him know that his parents were up to some torrid business. With that knowledge in mind, he threw a hard jab at Robert, who ducked and saw Akira's fist land onto the grassy floor with a powerful boom.

"Oh damn, that was a heavy punch!" remarked Robert.

Akira picked himself back up, and saw that his glove was tattered into mangled pieces.

"Wow, how'd you do that?" asked Robert.

"I, I do not know," Akira replied honestly. "...I, umm, get new glove from storage room, yes?"

"Yeah, sure."

Akira nodded, and went back into the house. As he trawled up the staircase, his feelings were proven true, as he heard the running shower, followed by the sounds of giggles, both male and female, his mother and David. Akira got to the 3rd floor, right next to the bathroom, and heard the vivid sounds of two bodies rubbing against one another, then, much to his surprise, he heard something he had first hand remembrance of: his mother's hand on his member, tugging and releasing. Akira was quickly able to summarise what his mother's dirty deed was.

Was Akira angry? No, not really. But was he jealous? Even he'd admit, yes, a little. But was he turned on by the fact that his hot Japanese mother was jerking off her white American lover in the shower? Oh hell yes. After a minute of listening in, Akira remembered what he came for – and also suddenly comprehended the risk of getting caught, so he reluctantly walked past the bathroom and went onward to the end of the hallway, to the storage closet.

Akira kept his steps short, letting his ears absorb the symphony of rub-and-tug. As Akira listened to the biracial sex acts, his member grew more erect, his body glowing bright red. Then, as he was walking, something caught his attention, a glimpse that he saw from the corner of his eye. Akira stopped, paused, and looked to his right. His parents had left their bedroom door wide open, and inside that room, dangling around the bedpost, was a piece of fabric flowing gently beneath the wind: his mother's white frilly thong.

Akira tightened his body instantly when he saw it; his hands into fists, his toed curled, his mouth losing all its moisture, his eyes glued to the exotic taboo fabric. He admired the fine, delicate details: the strings, the bows, the satin, in addition to the knowledge that his mother wore this tantalising piece of clothing on her person, it tucked neatly into her most private region. The seconds ticked away as Akira remained frozen, inside him a raging storm emerging, filling up, up, till he felt the dormant powers awaken, they reaching him and bestowing him with his demonic ability of enhanced high-vision. Akira zoomed in and was able to see the greater details, and as the image got brighter and bolder, so did the revelations: He was able to see the small beads of vaginal sweat collected on the thong, stepping forward a little closer to see that this sweat was mixed in with his mother's juices. Also, along the edge was one long dangling strand of jet-black hair, glued inside as a sordid reminder of his mother's feminine instincts.

Akira had his hands to his sides as he watched this majestic vision, yet already he could feel his member reach boiling point. Then, Akira decided that looking was not enough, oh no: he had to do something which went against his morals, which showed disrespect towards his sacred mother: he had to expand his senses, go forward, and take a good long feel of the mouth-watering majesty.

Akira looked to the bathroom and heard the shower still running: he had time to do this. A massive inner turmoil went on inside him, with the darker forces persistent, so much so that they quickly turned his mind toward one conclusion: he had to get nearer. So Akira took small steps forward into the bedroom, tiptoeing, getting closer, closer, able to see the pure visceral energy springing out from his mother's undergarment. Akira then got closer, closer, till he was at touching distance.

"Go on," said that deep inner voice, making itself vocal inside Akira's confused and conflicted head. "Touch, touch, hold, touch, hold, touch, hold."

Akira tried lifting his arms so he could hold the holy cloth in his hands, but, much to his shock, his arms wouldn't move. Not an even inch, they just would not budge; it was as if two heavy weights had been attached to each side. The champion fighter tried lifting his arms again, yet nothing, still too heavy. The demonic voice was fading: something had silenced it; Akira was back to lucid thought. Realising his predicament, and not wishing to be stuck in this compromising position, Akira thought it would be best to retreat from this battle. He turned his feet, ready to walk away, walk away from the warm heavenly bliss in front of him, deciding that this perverted detour was over...but, as he was already there, one quick inhale seemed like a good enough consolation. That wasn't his demonic side talking, just his horny teen urges.

So, Akira got himself steady, pushed his head forward, opened his nostrils, and with his airways wide open, he inhaled.

"Hmmm," in that brief split-second, he was not in the Rochefort home, nor America, nor anywhere in that world: he was transported to a garden of roses, the aroma a combined mixture of his mother's scent, the sweetest roses, and the freshest of airs, his body regenerated, a bright light filling him with a soothing warmth ...but then, he came back, his eyes open, looking at his mother's thong. Then, in slow-motion, Akira saw a circle develop around the thong, this circle pulsating with a hum, growing larger, larger. Before Akira could figure out what was going on, the shockwave of energy burst and sent him flying to the floor.

"What?" he asked himself as he lay on his back, he seemingly having been thrown to the floor by the scent of his mother's thong. Akira jumped up and walked backwards, still bemused. Then, while in this trance, he bumped into something, something long, hard, and fleshy.

"Well, ain't you just a naughty little oriental boy?"

Akira turned around and saw Helena Roberts, a towel around her body, her hands behind her back, giving him a devilish, knowing grin.

Akira rushed out of the room and tried covering himself up.

"No, I, I, umm, I not do bad, I not do bad."

"Oh hush honey-monster," she replied. "You ain't done nuthin' wrong, you were just being a boy is all." Helena looked inside the bedroom. "Is that the kinda underwear she wearing? Huh? Pretty run-of-the-mill if you ask me." Helena put her hands to her front, showing that she was holding her clothes. She then looked through them, picked one piece out, and what she held in her fingers made Akira burst in an instant. No pre-cum, just the real deal flowing down his legs in a sign of youthful exuberance.

"I see Mr. Happy just let himself out!" she giggled while holding, in her fingers, her Victoria's Secret, crimson red, all-over lace thong.

"You need to work on that whole premature releasin' thang, it's somethin' us ladies ain't impressed by...but you doing it, I find it kinda cute."

Akira held his pants and tightened his legs, overcome by the lust in front of him, behind him, and to the side. He had to retreat, so he dashed into the storage room and shut it tight. Inside that room, his mind was shut, not thinking, just listening. He first heard Helena giggle, then, his parents coming out of the shower.

"Had fun?" asked Helena.

"Ahh, umm," Yumi, wearing her robe, had her hair soaked and her cheeks a bright shade of red. "You can use now..."

"Is it clean? I know a couple like you in love an' all is gonna be releasin' lots of love' cream."

"It's, it's clean," replied a quite embarrassed robe-clad David. He grabbed Yumi's shoulders and sped the two of them down the stairs.

"Aw don't be all embarrassed now!" said Helena, "You only doing what comes natural...what 'comes' natural, haha, I'm funny," Helena went inside and slammed the bathroom door shut. But, seconds later, it opened, and Helena's bare feet could be heard approaching Akira's little hole. She opened the closet door, finding him in a crotched position.

"Here," she threw a roll of tissues at him, "I think you'll need them."

***

Ch.05: J.H.C

After finishing up in the closet, Akira rushed back to the field. Robert wasn't happy with this late arrival:

"Dude!? You've been gone for twenty minutes!"

"Sorry, replied Akira, "Your mother –"

Robert raised his voice, "My mom!? What!? What she do!?"

"...She and I talk."

"For that long? You can barely speak English! Fuck! Something weird is going on, I'm going to speak to her."

Robert threw his gloves down and stormed into the house.

Akira felt bad about making his friend angry, so he followed him into the house to apologise, but stopped when he heard Helena shouting at her boy.

"You want WHAT!?"

"Just, just a little to tide me over," said Robert, "Please, just a feel, or a touch, just one handjob, and I'll be good."

"Was I born yesterday? You ain't getting' nothin' boy, how clear did I make that? No kisses, no handjobs, blowjobs, rimjobs, none of it till you go and win a God damn belt! You know what you get if you do that? Me, naked in your race car bed, chips, coke, lotion, oils, we'll do it all night! But you ain't gettin' it now."

Robert rubbed himself. "Hmmm, that sounds soooo~ good. Please, the next tournament is not for months, I can't wait that long, please give me something before that."

"Hmm," Helena rubbed her chin, "How about puttin' a whooping on that kid?"

Thankfully, Akira didn't understand what Helena had said as he could only hear raised, mumbled voices.

"Mom~," replied Robert, "He's my friend, I don't want to fight him at his house."

"Your friend? He ended your undefeated record! He's your enemy, no friends in fighting! Look, if you ever want this," Helena turned around and shook her butt, "Yeah? This rump in your face, you beat him – and beat him good."

Robert sighed. "Fine...I'll challenge him to a fight, but what do I get if I win?"

"Strip club special: You get a lapdance, you can cop a feel within reachin' distance, no pussy though. Pay me a hundred for a blowjob."

"Deal!"

Before Robert could reach for the door, Akira leapt away to a safe distance.

Back on the field, Robert came rushing over to Akira with added vigour in his step.

"Akira! Me! You! I want my rematch! Here, nine, let's do it!"

Akira didn't understand perfect English – but he was fluent in fighting talk.

"Yes!"

The two teens shook on it and went their separate ways to train.

As Akira walked down the field, the patio door opened. It was Helena, clad in a pink robe.

"Psst, Aki-ara, Aki-ara."

Despite her mispronunciation, Akira went over to her.

"Hey, listen, if you go ahead and win, you know his deal? You get it."

"...I not understand."

"You get what he gets for winning! Me! You get me!"

"I get...you? For?"

Helena threw her hands up in the air.

"Jesus-H-Christ," she put her hands on his cheeks, leaned down and spoke very slowly: "If. You. Win. Your. Fight. You and me. We will have sex, okay? We will have sex, me and you, together."

The light finally shone. "Oh...oh! Really!?"

"Yes, really, and remember this when you train," Helena looked around, then put her hands down low, brushed aside her robe, pulled her thong down, and revealed a new wonder in Little Aki's universe.

"Look 'er boy: this ain't no fluffy fur show like your mama got going on: This full, bare, naked, good-ol'-girl pussy."

As he gazed upon this new discovery of tasty bare flesh, marvelling at the quivering lips and salivating at the yummy-looking pink meat, Akira felt his energy meter go all the way to purple. He couldn't waste time just looking: he had to fight for the right to lick it!

"Osu!" he turned and ran.

Helena chuckled.

"Heh, boys...They'd kill for a slice of pussy, hee-hee."

***

Final Chapter: I'll Be Ready

Back in Japan, Yumi Shibata was a world champion-calibre martial artist. In her prime, her body was sculpted from years of hard, diligent training. Even as a mother, she found time to do her daily chores, an hour of tantric crowd-pleasing yoga, and working out with weights, all with the aim of keeping herself in tip-top fit fighting shape. But, after moving away from her homeland, things had changed...

Yumi in America had her days mapped out like this: after she'd given her boyfriend morning sex and/or a handjob in the shower, she served her son and Mike their breakfast. Later that morning she spent around thirty-minutes doing some yoga positions – and only those positions that kept her flexible in the bedroom. After that was done, she went back to her comfy bed, falling blissfully asleep, planning to wake whenever the warm breeze brushed against her face.

On this day, after having given her man his morning release, laid out her son's breakfast, and finished her relaxing yoga session, she was off to bed to sleep the morning away. Little she knew that her laissez-faire way of mothering was coming back to bite her on her round juicy butt...

*

Back on the field, Akira was training like he'd never had before, his speed, power, at new, higher levels, pushing himself to the limits for this contest.

Mike, holding pancakes, was the first to notice the spilt in the camps. Able to see the two of them on far ends of the field, he quickly made his choice and went over to his pseudo step-brother.

"Hey, Akira, you missed breakfast, I got you some. Hey, what's up with you and Robert training alone?"