Chapter Four
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Susanoo was a handy chakra defense mechanism, and he thanked his father's greasy loins for granting him this ability; in a small moment of clarity, he had wrapped his cock in Susanoo, a swift gesture, right before Itachi's small pair of buttocks landed on that pearly crown. He had bounced off the sturdy, gauzy carapace and landed with his face in the mountain of cum that filled the room; he had been petting his cock quite generously for several weeks now.
The thing had other uses, too. He often fashioned a thin layer of it around his privates before he buried it deep into a woman. It served as a fool-proof . . . Uchiha insurance to prevent half-breeds from popping up from the wombs of unworthy women. He called it the Uchiha condom. It shielded his cock well from the lethal assaults of vaginal yeast and whatnot. An all-purpose Perfect contraceptive!
"Your boy nearly crushed my loins," he spoke, emitting a gurgling sound from beneath the thick drying heap.
"Good thing the Susanoo saved you," Fugaku muttered with a stern, annoyed countenance, pulling Itachi's face out from the sticky pool. He had almost choked himself on their patriarch's cum and had nearly broken his neck, too. But his big genius head, which would develop the thinking skills of a blubbering Hokage in two more years, had saved him from a potentially injurious, or perhaps, a mortal fall. Kami bless his big, big head: he did not break his crown!
"No thanks to you," Madara shot back and rose from the foamy cum like something ethereal spoken of in their legends. When he finally got up and gave him the seething stink-eye of Eternal light, the sparse amount of cum clinging to the sides of his heads like two horns . . . he was the spitting image of the Sage!
A look of abject reverence enveloped Fugaku's face, and he sat down with his hands clasped together, head bowed low before a man who was just a fourteen-year-old horny teenager for now. All anger was forgotten.
"These things are fragile," he spoke suddenly, trying to wipe his face clean, but he only managed to smear white all over his brow and cheeks. "Mio dropped her child on her husband's cock once. That's how cousin Yuu went . . . " He breathed out a long sigh, staring at his masculine artistry that decorated the room, and then his bulbous cock that was still on full display. It looked as if a torrid male-orgy had taken place in his room with a certain Mokuton-master, and Madara was the recipient of their collected love. His wood was famous for creating thick white forests and Kami knew what else. A scandalous affair.
Itachi stopped pumping his tiny prick and craned his head forward like a baby-turtle curiously coming out of its shell for the first time to see a whole new world. He stared at Madara's big cock, and then his own . . . then slowly directed it to Madara's, and then back to his again. A crushing emotion swelled in his breast till something popped in that impossibly brilliant mind like a tragic burst-layer of a Susanoo contraceptive: his prick was way smaller!
That sex-crazed expression slowly drained from his face. A whirlwind of tormenting emotions scurried across his mind, and his tight grip around the cock slackened. Chakra flushed into his brain, a thin little squirt like the one that usually came out of his limping baby-cock, and not a moment later, red glowed in his eyes. Sharingan!
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