INO
Ino slumps pacified into her mattress, burying her head into her pillow to stifle her screams of pleasure as her second orgasm rocks her quivering sensitivity. 'OOhhhhhh, that wassss,' she mentally groans as her fluid thoughts melt into the sugary hum of the tail-end of her orgasm. Returning to her senses, she unclasps the photo bent out of shape in her tight grip, adding yet more folds to the image of her-as-Sakura sucking Naruto's dick.
Ino's grown accustomed to this daily ritual, dutifully performed at the bare minimum, three times a day—before and after sleep, and at some point in the middle of the day. Initially the dreams and memory were more than abundant stimulation to reach her gushing peaks, however, with every passing day, she could feel the potent effect dwindle little by little. It wasn't until her manipulation of Sakura, when that excitement shot up near the level of the first week after her deflowering.
She should absolutely hate what she had done with Naruto, and to an extent, she does, however, it was and wasn't of her own volition, strange as that sounds. Ino knows she wouldn't have ever done that with Naruto, but she did, and only because she felt out of control with her arousal. So despite knowing she should hate it, her conditioned mind can never get around the painfully honest fact that she really really wanted it to happen. Not necessarily with him, but she certainly loved the feeling to rip through her again; shredding her pleasure centers to white oblivion. Ino couldn't help wanting to pass out, squeezing a solid dick so hard it feels like she's trying to swallow him.
'Calm down, Ino,' her mind huffs, already feeling her excitement build at the thought of Naruto's dick filling her unprotected womb with his baby-batter. To this day she can't figure out why that overwhelming feeling of ecstasy struck her, but it had and she forced Naruto to satisfy her carnal cravings. It's this very fact that keeps her from truly hating him, or what happened. It's why she now pleasures herself every day.
Ino worries she might be a sexual deviant, a pervert; the very thing all women instinctively hate about men. This internal revelation disturbed her like nothing else has, forcing her to constantly wonder, 'can girls be perverts too?' Ino knows women gossip and play, sure but that is not an image for the general public. Unlike men, women respect themselves too much to catcall, peep, stalk, or steal underwear. And while she doesn't feel the need to catcall, peep or stalk Naruto, she knows that somehow he had changed her, possibly opened up a part of her she never knew existed, or may not have learned existed until much later in her years.
She was a girl before—a ninja as well, extensively trained in the elementary stages of the art of killing… or catching stupid cats—but now she was a woman; awakened with needs she didn't know how to completely deal with. She felt much better than the first week after being with Naruto, but her mind was holding on to those images, those sounds, and those intense feelings she experienced with him. Her mind was replaying them every night and her body reacted to them every time. Setting down the bent photo, Ino is starting to wonder what else might help her explore her salacious curiosity… what more there is to learn about her body… and how much she may end up liking it…
KURENAI
"I mean it, Anko," Kurenai adamantly reminds her best friend as they walk the streets of Konoha's bar block. Kurenai is wearing her sexy berry-red cocktail mini-dress with bustier-style cups and narrow shoulder straps. "One drink, and only if Asuma isn't there."
"Come on, where's the trust," Anko—wearing a shoulder cutoff leather-up bodycon dress, showing plenty of cleavage and fishnet stalkings—playfully asks with a sly grin. "Can't two sexy ass friends just hang out at the bar and make every guy drooling over us tend to our every alcoholic need?" At Anko's insistence, they were certainly dressed to kill sobriety and end marriages.
Kurenai can't help but smile broadly at her friend. The red-eyed beauty always felt they had an odd dynamic. Anko's certainly not someone she ever thought she would be close friends with, but Kurenai is happy they absolutely are. "I've had my fill of alcohol as of late," Kurenai says, pondering the liquid-cause of, and solution to, all her lingering woes. From the heartache of Asuma to the ecstasy of Naruto, Kurenai asserts, "I think I need to take it easy for a bit."
"I don't care if it's one drink or ten; water or sake," Anko tells her friend confidently. "I just want to hang with my number one babe. I hadn't seen that perfect ass of yours in weeks and I'm going through withdrawals." Anko pinches Kurenai's round cheek as a group of civilian men, already drunk on their blundering feet try to holler for a grab themselves. Anko easily ignores them as she whips out a kunai, spins it in the air like a propeller before effortlessly grabbing the handle and easily sliding it back in the lacy holster of her inner thigh. The civilian drunks sober up fast and moved away from the trained killers with purpose.
"I've missed you too," Kurenai says with a smile, bumping a smirking Anko's shoulder.
Kurenai notices the pause of conversation as Anko studies her, before curiously starting, "you know," in a serious, yet light tone. "I was expecting a lot worse."
Kurenai is certain she means Asuma, though still asks, "in what way?"
"Are you kidding," Anko snorts incredulously. "I know you were head-over-heels for him. To a room full of nosy Jōnin, that was never a secret and with this whole escort thing between him and that bitch-princess, I was expecting an emotional wreck to open the door… if you opened the door at all! Instead, your house is clean, not a single fucking snot-tissue anywhere, and if I'm being honest," Anko continues undeniably checking Kurenai's assets out. "You're looking kinda sexy."
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