The Corruption of Anko and Kurenai

The bar was empty when Anko entered, her boots clattering on the wooden floor. "Kurenai, you won't believe what—"

The sake glass fell from her hand, shattering on the floor.

Kurenai was kneeling on the counter, naked from the waist down, her torn pants hanging on a hook. And *he*—that stranger with eyes as black as pitch—was thrusting inside her with wretched movements, one hand tangled in her red hair, pulling her head back until the muscles in her neck bulged.

"Ah, Anko," Miguel smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light, "just you arriving at showtime."

Kurenai groaned, her eyes glazed, her tongue hanging out. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, mixing with her smeared lipstick. "A-Anko... help..." she gasped, but her body contorted upward, digging itself even deeper onto his erection.

Anko drew a kunai. "Let her go, you son of a—"

*Snap.*

The kunai fell. Anko's legs trembled. Something warm trickled between her thighs—it wasn't blood. It never would be.

Miguel sniffed the air. "Ahhh... you're already wet."

Kurenai laughed—a hoarse, broken sound. "She's always been the village slut," she murmured, licking her lips. "Remember that time in the men's bathroom, Anko? You loved it when I—"

"SHUT UP!" Anko yelled, but her hands were already moving to her own breasts, rubbing her nipples through her uniform.

Miguel snapped his fingers.

Anko's outfit exploded into tatters. Her body arched as something invisible penetrated her—two, three, four times, in every hole at once.

"You two," he whispered, as Kurenai crawled across the floor to lick her friend's thighs, "are going to learn to serve together."

When the first spurt of hot cum hit Anko's womb, she understood:

They had never been ninjas.

Just toys waiting for the right owner.

**Private Lesson**

The dojo smelled of sex.

Kurenai was on all fours on the tatami, her buttocks red from spanks, her pussy wide open and dripping. Anko mounted her from the front, her breasts swaying, her nipples brushing against her friend's lips as Miguel fucked them together—one cock in each hole, going in and out in perfect sync.

"Look at her," he ordered, pulling Anko's hair. "That's what you *really* taught your students: how to be a *hole*."

Kurenai cried—not from pain, but from *shame*. Because she *liked it*.

When the double orgasm filled them, Anko groaned: "Sensei... we should have started like this..."

And from Miguel's laughter, they knew:

The class had only just begun.