CHAPTER 41: HORNY AUNT HINA

My mind raced. Was it Ryan? Erectile dysfunction? The thought sent a twisted thrill through me—imagining him failing, night after night, Hina’s legs spread and waiting, only to be left aching, unsatisfied.

Or was it her? Some hidden barrenness, a cruelty of fate that had turned her bitterness inward, then outward, like a blade unsheathed?

I risked another look at her face. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her chest rising and falling just a little too fast. Kerry’s words slithered back into my mind—"Hina gets irritated, angry..."—but it wasn’t just anger.

Not just frustration. It was hunger. The kind that gnawed at you, that made you claw at your own skin when no one else would touch you right. The kind that turned love into something sharp and ugly.

And Ryan? He knew. Oh, he knew. The way he refused to look at her, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for her—or maybe to strike her.

There was a story there, one written in bruises and whispered apologies and nights spent turned away from each other, bodies stiff with resentment.

My cock throbbed under Hina’s grip, her touch suddenly possessive, almost punishing. She wanted to hurt someone. And if it couldn’t be Ryan—well. I was right here.

A drop of pre-cum welled at the tip, and she smeared it with her fingertip, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my balls.

"It’s so different from Ryan’s," she murmured, her voice a velvet whisper that slithered down my spine. Her fingertip traced the sensitive underside of my cock’s head, slow and deliberate, like she was memorizing the shape of me.

A jolt of pleasure shot through my body, my hips jerking upward before I could stop them. "Aunt—!" The word tore out of me, half-protest, half-moan, but she didn’t stop. She just watched—her dark eyes locked onto my cock like it was the answer to something she’d been starving for.

And then I saw it. The way her lips parted, just slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them. The way her throat worked, like she was already imagining how I’d feel sliding down it. My pulse roared in my ears. She wants to swallow me whole. The thought sent a dirty thrill through my veins, my cock twitching under her touch.

But it wasn’t just hunger in her gaze. It was a calculation.

Was she thinking of taking advantage of me? Or was I just desperate enough to hope she was? The line between fantasy and reality blurred as her fingers tightened, her grip shifting from teasing to possessive.

My mind raced—would she force me? Pin me down, spread my legs, and ride me until I fill her with something Ryan never could?

The thought should’ve terrified me. But the way she looked at me—like I was prey, like I was hers—made my cock ache with need.

Hina’s fingers traced the swollen ridge of my cock, her nail grazing the sensitive slit at the tip. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through me, my hips jerking involuntarily.

"I’m sorry, Dexter," she murmured, though her voice carried no remorse—only curiosity, dark and hungry. "It’s just... I’ve never seen one like this. The skin here—" she pressed her fingertip against the exposed crown, swirling it lightly, "—it’s gone. Why?"

I swallowed hard, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The sensation of her touch was maddening, my cock throbbing painfully, the tip already slick with pre-cum. "I don’t know," I managed, my voice rough. "It was burning this morning... like fire. And then I noticed the skin was gone. Aunt Kerry used her saliva to soothe the pain."

Hina’s eyes flicked to Kerry, her brows furrowing slightly. "Did he bleed?"

Kerry shook her head, her gaze lingering on my cock as if she were remembering the way it had felt in her hands, in her mouth. "No. But he was in pain, so I checked. Dexter’s a healer—he said saliva could help." A faint flush crept up her neck, betraying the memory. "So I... used mine. And it worked."

Hina’s grip on my shaft tightened, her thumb pressing against the slick tip again, smearing the pre-cum in slow, deliberate circles. "Is it hurting like it was this morning?" she asked, her voice low, almost teasing. "If you want, Dexter, I can use my saliva to heal you..."

My cock twitched violently in her grip, another thick bead of pre-cum welling at the tip, glistening under the dim light. The image of Hina’s lips parting, her tongue swirling over the sensitive head, sent a scorching wave of heat crashing through me, my balls tightening with the thought.

I could almost feel it—the wet heat of her mouth, the way her throat would clench around me, the way she’d take me deep and swallow every last drop.

But I didn’t want her mouth.

I wanted her cunt.

I wanted to be buried inside her, to feel her walls milking me, to fill her with something Ryan never could.

So I forced out a lie, my voice rough with fake protest. "No, Aunt," I groaned, my hips jerking despite myself. "It’s not hurting—it’s just..." My cock throbbed in her hand, betraying me.

"Too hard. And it won’t calm down." I let my voice drop, let the words come out like a confession. "I think... it needs a woman’s pussy to ease itself. That’s what my grandfather taught me."

Hina’s lips parted, her breath hitching as she stroked me again, slower this time, her grip firm and knowing. "It’s good you’re a healer, Dexter," she murmured, her voice thick with something unspoken. "Otherwise, we’d have to ask other tribes for help."

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear, her body pressing against mine. The scent of her—earthy, musky, female—filled my senses. "Don’t worry," she whispered, her fingers tightening around my shaft, her thumb swiping over the tip again, collecting the slick fluid.

"I’ll find the most beautiful girl for you. Or..." Her grip shifted, her fingers sliding down to cup my balls, rolling them gently. "Is there someone in the tribe you like? Your status as a healer—and a hunter—means no woman would refuse you."