Chapter 68 - sandwich

**Chapter 1**

The night air over Kame House was thick and still, the ocean a distant black murmur against the rocks. Inside, the old house creaked only with the soft sounds of sleep. Master Roshi's snores rolled from his room in irregular waves. Oolong's lighter, piggish breathing came from the guest futon. Turtle's shell made the occasional soft clack as he shifted. Launch's quiet, even breaths filled the far corner. No one else stirred.

Goku and Krillin moved like shadows down the narrow hallway. Goku's bare feet made almost no sound on the wooden boards. Krillin's were equally careful. They had planned this for days—ever since the last training session when Krillin had finally shown Goku what he had been packing under those orange gi pants. Goku still could not quite believe it.

"You sure she's gonna be cool with this?" Goku whispered, voice low and earnest. His dark eyes were bright even in the dim hallway light filtering from the moon through a high window. "Bulma gets mad real easy sometimes."

Krillin's grin was sharp and cocky in the gloom. "She's been looking at both of us for months, Goku. Trust me. And once she sees this—" He gave a quiet, smug little bounce of his hips. "She's not gonna say no."

Goku's own cock was already half-hard just from the thought, thick and heavy against his thigh under the loose sleep pants he had thrown on. Krillin's, though… Goku had seen it fully hard only once, in the locker room after sparring. Fifteen inches of thick, veined, dark-pink meat that looked like it belonged on some oversized demon, not on his short, bald best friend. The head alone was the size of a small fist. Goku's own cock was nothing to sneeze at—thick, long enough to make most women gasp—but next to Krillin's it looked almost ordinary.

They stopped outside Bulma's door. The wood was thin. From inside came the soft rustle of sheets and the slow, even rhythm of her breathing. Krillin reached for the handle first. The door opened with only the faintest click.

Bulma's room smelled like her—faint perfume, engine grease from the latest capsule she had been tinkering with, and the warm scent of sleeping girl. Moonlight spilled across the bed. She lay on her side, blue hair fanned across the pillow, one bare leg kicked free of the thin sheet. She wore only an oversized white tank top that had ridden up to expose the soft lower curve of one breast and the smooth plane of her stomach. No panties. The dark thatch between her legs was visible in the silver light.

Goku's breath caught. Krillin's did too.

They slipped inside and closed the door behind them with careful hands. The click of the latch seemed loud in the quiet. Bulma stirred, mumbling something sleep-thick. Her eyes fluttered open just as Krillin reached the edge of the bed.

"What the—Goku? Krillin? What the hell are you two doing in—"

Her voice cut off when her gaze dropped.

Krillin had already shoved his sleep pants down. His cock sprang free, heavy and already mostly hard, the thick shaft rising in a slow, powerful curve. Fifteen inches of it. The head flared wide, the shaft so thick that Goku's own hand would not fully close around it. Veins stood out in thick ridges. A fat drop of precum already beaded at the slit.

Bulma's eyes went wide. Her mouth opened. No sound came out for a long second.

"Holy… shit," she finally breathed. "Krillin, what the fuck is that?"

Goku was already peeling his own pants off. His cock bounced free—thick, long, the head flushed dark, but clearly smaller than the monster hanging between Krillin's legs. Still, it was big enough that Bulma's gaze flicked between the two of them in pure shock.

"We figured you'd want to see," Krillin said, voice low and cocky. He stepped closer to the bed, cock swaying heavily. "Been thinking about this for a while, Bulma. Both of us."

Bulma sat up fast, tank top sliding further down one shoulder. Her blue hair was messy from sleep, cheeks already flushing. "You sneaky little bastards—both of you. You break into my room in the middle of the night with your dicks out and expect me to just—Jesus Christ, Krillin, that thing is not real. That can't be real."

Krillin stroked himself once, slow, from base to tip. The length of it was almost comical against his shorter frame. "It's real. Want to feel how real?"

Goku climbed onto the bed on her other side, earnest and already breathing harder. "We won't hurt you, Bulma. Promise. Just… we really want this. I want this. Krillin does too. And you look so good like that."

Bulma's sharp tongue was still working, but her eyes kept dragging back to Krillin's cock. "You two are insane. Completely insane. If Roshi wakes up—"

"He's snoring like a freight train," Krillin cut in. He reached out and caught the hem of her tank top, tugging it up. Bulma did not stop him. The soft fabric slid over her breasts, catching for a moment on her nipples before peeling free. Her tits bounced free—full, soft, pale in the moonlight, nipples already tightening. "And we're not stopping."

Goku's hands were already on her thighs, spreading them with gentle but firm pressure. Bulma's breath hitched. She was already wet; the moonlight showed the gleam on her inner thighs.

"Fuck," she whispered. "You two are actually serious."

Krillin leaned in and kissed her hard, tongue pushing into her mouth while his free hand closed around one breast and squeezed. Bulma made a muffled sound against his lips. Goku's fingers slid higher, brushing through the soft hair between her legs, finding her already slick folds. He pushed two fingers into her without much warning. Bulma's hips jerked.

"She's soaked already," Goku said, voice thick with wonder. He pumped his fingers slow and deep, feeling her walls flutter. "Really soaked."

Krillin broke the kiss long enough to look down. "Of course she is. Look at what she's staring at." He took Bulma's hand and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her hand looked small against the thick shaft. She could not close her fingers all the way around it. The heat of it pulsed against her palm. Krillin guided her hand up and down, smearing precum over the head and down the length.

Bulma's sharp voice had gone husky. "This is… this is ridiculous. You're both ridiculous. Fifteen inches? How do you even walk with this thing, Krillin?"

"Carefully," he said, smirking. "But you're going to take every inch of it tonight."

Goku pulled his fingers free with a wet sound and brought them to his mouth, tasting her. Then he shifted lower, spreading her thighs wider and burying his face between them. His tongue dragged up her slit in one long, wet stroke. Bulma's back arched. A soft, startled moan slipped out of her.

Krillin kept her hand working his cock while he leaned down and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Hard. His teeth scraped, then bit down just enough to make her gasp. He bit again, harder, leaving a red mark already forming on the soft underside of her breast. Bulma's free hand tangled in Goku's hair, pushing his face harder against her pussy.

"Fuck—Goku, right there—ah—"

Goku licked her like he was starving, tongue pushing into her, then sliding up to circle her clit with firm pressure. Two fingers pushed back into her, curling, finding the spot that made her thighs tremble. Krillin switched to the other breast, biting the nipple hard enough that Bulma's moan turned sharp. He left another mark, then another, sucking and biting until both tits were flushed and stamped with red.

"You're both animals," Bulma panted, but her hips were rolling against Goku's mouth. "Absolute animals. Don't stop."

Krillin released her breast with a wet pop and moved up, guiding the fat head of his cock to her lips. "Open up. I want to feel that smart mouth before I stretch that tight little pussy."

Bulma's eyes flicked up to his. For a second the old sharp defiance was there—then she opened her mouth and let him push the thick head past her lips. The stretch was immediate. Her jaw had to work to take even the first few inches. Krillin groaned low and fed her more, slow but relentless, until the head was pressing against the back of her throat. Bulma's eyes watered. She gagged softly around him, spit already slick on her chin.

Goku kept eating her, fingers pumping faster now, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room. Bulma's first orgasm hit hard and sudden—her thighs clamped around Goku's head, a muffled cry vibrating around Krillin's cock as her pussy clenched and then released in a hard gush. Fluid sprayed across Goku's chin and down onto the sheets. Goku made a happy sound and kept licking, drinking her down, fingers still working her through it.

Krillin pulled back enough to let her breathe, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. "That's one," he said, voice thick. "You're going to soak this whole bed before we're done."

Bulma's chest heaved. "Shut up and put that monster in me before I change my mind."

Goku shifted up the bed, cock hard and leaking against his stomach. Krillin moved between her spread thighs. He rubbed the massive head up and down her slick folds, coating himself in her cum. The size difference was obscene—his cock looked like it would split her open. Bulma stared down between her legs, eyes wide, breath coming fast.

"Krillin—wait, that's—fuck, that's huge—"

He pushed in.

The head stretched her open with a slow, brutal pressure. Bulma's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. Her hands flew to Krillin's hips, not pushing him away, just holding on. Inch by thick inch he sank into her. The stretch was constant, relentless. Her walls fluttered and clenched around the invading thickness. Goku watched with open awe, one hand stroking his own cock.

"She's taking it," Goku whispered. "Look at that. She's really taking it."

Halfway in, Bulma's voice broke on a moan. "Oh my god—oh my fucking god—Krillin—"

He kept going. Deeper. The thick shaft forced her open wider, the head pushing against her cervix with firm pressure. When his hips finally met hers, all fifteen inches buried inside her, Bulma's entire body trembled. A thin trail of fluid leaked around the base of his cock and soaked into the sheets.

Krillin stayed deep for a long moment, letting her feel every pulse of that massive cock. Then he pulled back—slowly, so she felt every ridge and vein dragging against her stretched walls—and slammed back in.

The impact was wet and heavy. Bulma cried out. Krillin set a hard, deep rhythm immediately, no mercy, hips snapping forward with powerful thrusts that made her tits bounce and the bed creak. Every stroke bottomed out. Every withdrawal left her gaping for a split second before he filled her again.

Goku moved up and fed his cock into her open, moaning mouth. Bulma sucked him greedily, spit slick, eyes half-lidded with the overwhelming stretch. Krillin's hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, holding her in place while he pounded into her. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. Bulma's moans vibrated around Goku's cock.

Krillin leaned down and bit her breast again—hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh just above the nipple. Bulma's cry was muffled but sharp. He bit the other side, leaving matching marks, then sucked hard enough to bruise while his hips kept slamming deep.

"Fuck, she's tight," Krillin growled. "So fucking tight around me. You feel that, Goku? She's clenching every time I bottom out."

Goku's voice was strained with pleasure. "Yeah—her mouth's so wet—Bulma, you're so good—"

Bulma came again with a violent shudder, pussy clamping down hard around the massive cock splitting her open. A thick gush of fluid sprayed out around Krillin's shaft, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath them. The wet sound of it was filthy. Krillin did not slow down. He fucked her through it, deep and relentless, the stretch never easing.

More fluid leaked with every thrust. The sheets under her ass were already dark and wet. Krillin pulled almost all the way out, the fat head stretching her entrance obscenely, then drove back in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Bulma's scream around Goku's cock was pure raw sound.

They kept going. Goku's hips rocked gently, fucking her mouth in short strokes while Krillin wrecked her pussy with long, powerful ones. The size difference was constant—Krillin's cock reshaping her with every thrust, the thick base stretching her outer lips wide. Bulma's blue hair stuck to her sweat-damp face. Her tits were covered in red bite marks. Her pussy made continuous wet, obscene sounds around the cock pounding it.

Krillin's rhythm stayed brutal. He changed angles slightly, grinding deep so the head rubbed hard against her front wall. Bulma's third orgasm hit like a wave—her whole body locking up, a longer, heavier spray of fluid arcing out and soaking Krillin's stomach and the bed. It dripped down onto the floorboards in audible drops.

"Look at that mess," Krillin panted, still thrusting. "You're flooding the bed already, Bulma. Keep going. Soak everything."

Goku pulled out of her mouth long enough for her to gasp for air. Her voice was wrecked. "Harder—fuck, Krillin, harder—don't you dare stop—"

He gave her harder. The bed frame groaned. Bulma's legs were locked around his waist now, heels digging into his back as if she could pull him even deeper. Goku leaned down and kissed her messy mouth, tasting himself and her on her tongue, while Krillin kept pounding her without pause.

The room filled with the wet slap of flesh, Bulma's broken moans, Krillin's low grunts, Goku's earnest encouragement. Fluid kept leaking with every deep thrust. The sheets were ruined. A small puddle had already formed on the floor under the edge of the bed.

Krillin's hands left her hips only long enough to grab both of her marked breasts and squeeze hard, thumbs rough on the bitten nipples. He leaned down and bit the upper curve of one again, hard enough that Bulma's cry cracked. The mark bloomed red and clear.

"You're mine tonight," Krillin said against her skin, voice rough and smug. "Both of us. Taking every inch. Looking so fucking good stretched around me."

Bulma's answer was a long, desperate moan as another orgasm rolled through her, weaker but still wet, more fluid pushing out around the thick cock that never stopped moving. Goku's cock was back in her mouth, and she sucked him with messy, hungry focus even while her body shook.

They did not stop. Krillin's stamina was high from years of training; Goku's was higher. They kept her right on the edge between too much and not enough, the massive stretch of Krillin's cock the constant center of everything. Every time Bulma's voice started to rise toward a scream, Goku's cock muffled it. Every time her pussy clenched hard enough that Krillin hissed, he just fucked her harder.

The bed was a wreck of wet sheets and tangled limbs. Bulma's tank top was long gone, kicked somewhere onto the floor. Her blue hair was a sweaty mess. Her breasts were a map of bite marks and bruises. Her pussy was stretched obscenely around the thickest, longest cock she had ever taken, and still Krillin kept giving her more—deeper, faster, the head battering her cervix with every thrust until she was shaking continuously.

Goku came first, with a low, earnest groan, flooding Bulma's mouth. She swallowed what she could, the rest spilling down her chin and onto her marked tits. Krillin watched it happen and grinned, still fucking her without slowing.

"Good girl," he said. "Swallow it. You're going to take mine next—deep."

Bulma's eyes were glassy with pleasure and overload. She licked her lips, voice hoarse. "Then give it to me. Fill me up. I want to feel it."

Krillin's rhythm turned savage. The wet sounds grew louder, messier. More fluid pushed out with every impact. The puddle on the floor spread. The sheets were saturated. Bulma's fourth orgasm hit with a broken scream she could not fully muffle, a heavy spray that soaked Krillin's thighs and added to the mess.

He did not pull out. He kept thrusting through her clenching walls until his own orgasm slammed into him. Fifteen inches buried to the hilt, he came hard, thick pulses of cum flooding her already overstretched pussy. There was so much of it that it immediately leaked out around the base of his cock in thick white rivulets, mixing with her fluids and soaking everything further.

Even after he finished, Krillin stayed deep, cock still hard, still pulsing. Goku was already hardening again against Bulma's hip. Neither of them was close to done.

Bulma lay under them, chest heaving, legs still open, pussy stretched and leaking around the massive cock still buried inside her. The bed was ruined. The air smelled of sex and sweat. Her voice was raw when she finally spoke.

"You're both… fucking animals. And if you stop now I will kill you."

Krillin's grin was pure smug satisfaction. He rolled his hips, still deep, still thick, still stretching her wide. "Not stopping. Not even close."

Goku leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, earnest and already eager for more. "We can go all night, Bulma. Promise."

Outside the room, the house remained quiet. Roshi's snores continued. No one else stirred. Inside, the wet, heavy sounds of Krillin beginning to thrust again filled the small space, and Bulma's broken, hungry moans rose with them.

The night was only beginning.

---

Krillin did not pull out after the first round. He stayed buried to the hilt while Goku recovered, the massive cock still hard and thick inside Bulma's stretched, cum-filled pussy. Every small movement made her whimper. Fluid—hers and his—kept leaking out around the base in slow, thick trails that added to the dark wet patch already soaking through the mattress.

"Still so tight," Krillin murmured, rolling his hips in a slow grind that forced the head against her cervix again. "Even after all that. You're going to take both of us next."

Bulma's eyes fluttered open. Her voice was wrecked, but the sharp edge was still there under the haze. "Both? In my—Krillin, your cock alone is already rearranging my insides. You can't—"

Goku's hand slid down between them, fingers finding where Krillin's shaft disappeared into her. He pressed two fingers alongside the thick cock, pushing them into the stretched ring of her entrance. Bulma's whole body jerked.

"We can," Goku said, earnest and already hard again. "We'll go slow at first. Promise."

They did not go slow for long.

Krillin pulled out with a long, wet drag that left Bulma's pussy gaping for a moment, the thick white of his cum visible inside her. Goku moved in first this time, pushing his own thick cock into the loose, slick heat. It felt different after Krillin—still a stretch, still deep, but manageable. He thrust a few times, coating himself, then pulled back and held the head at her entrance.

Krillin lined up beside him.

The two heads pressed together against her swollen, used folds. Bulma's breath came in short, sharp pants. "Wait—wait, that's too much—"

Krillin pushed first. The massive head forced its way back in, stretching her wide around just him. Then Goku pressed in beside it. The combined girth was brutal. Bulma's mouth opened in a silent scream as both cocks began to sink into her pussy together.

The stretch was immediate and overwhelming. Her outer lips were forced wide, the thin skin between them pulled tight. Inside, her walls had to expand around two thick shafts at once. Krillin's fifteen inches kept going deeper while Goku's filled the remaining space. The pressure was constant, the fullness so complete that Bulma could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of both cocks.

"Fuck—fuck—fuck—" Her voice cracked on every word. Her hands scrabbled at the soaked sheets. "Too big—both of you—oh my god—"

They kept pushing. Slow at first, then firmer when her body started to take them. When both were fully seated—Krillin's massive length buried to the root, Goku's thick cock pressed tight against it—Bulma's entire body trembled. A thin, continuous stream of fluid leaked out around the double stretch, dripping onto the already ruined sheets.

Krillin's voice was pure smug heat. "Look at that. Both of us inside that tight little pussy. You're stretched so fucking wide, Bulma."

Goku's voice was softer, but no less intense. "You're so warm. So wet. Can you feel how deep we are?"

Bulma could only moan. The fullness was so complete she could barely think. Then they started to move.

They did not thrust in perfect sync. Krillin pulled back first, the long drag of his thick shaft against Goku's and against her walls making her cry out. When he slammed back in, Goku pulled out halfway. The dual motion kept her constantly filled, constantly stretched, the wet sounds filthy and loud. Every time both cocks drove deep together, the pressure against her cervix and front wall made her vision white out for a second.

The bed creaked hard under the force. Fluid sprayed with every combined thrust. Bulma's squirting had not stopped—every deep double stroke forced more out of her in hard gushes that soaked Krillin's and Goku's thighs, ran down the crack of her ass, and dripped off the edge of the bed onto the floor tiles in continuous wet patters.

Krillin leaned down and bit her breast again—hard, teeth sinking into already marked flesh. Bulma's scream was raw. He bit the other side, sucking and marking while his hips kept driving that massive cock in and out alongside Goku's.

The dual stretch never eased. Her pussy was forced open wider than it had ever been, the two cocks grinding against each other inside her with every thrust.

"Take it," Krillin growled against her skin. "Take both of us. You're our fuckdoll tonight. Going to use this pussy until it can't close."

Goku's thrusts were deep and earnest, his hands holding her thighs open wide so they could both see the obscene stretch. "You're doing so good, Bulma. So good. Keep coming for us."

She did. The orgasms came in waves now—hard, wet, continuous. Each one forced more fluid out around the two cocks, adding to the mess. The sheets were beyond soaked.

The mattress beneath was heavy with it. The floor under the bed was a spreading puddle that reflected the moonlight. Some of the spray reached the wall beside the bed in thin arcs.

They fucked her like that for a long time—double vaginal, relentless, the combined girth and Krillin's extreme length turning every thrust into pure overload. Bulma's voice had gone hoarse from moaning and screaming. Her blue hair was plastered to her face with sweat. Her tits were a canvas of deep red bite marks. Her pussy made continuous wet, squelching sounds around the two cocks pounding it.

When they finally pulled out, her entrance stayed open for several seconds, the gaping hole leaking a thick mix of cum and her own fluids in a continuous stream that soaked further into the bed.

Krillin did not give her long to recover. He flipped her onto her hands and knees with easy strength. The new position made her marked breasts hang and sway. Goku moved in front of her, feeding his cock back into her mouth. Krillin lined up behind and drove that fifteen-inch cock back into her pussy in one long, brutal stroke that made her gag around Goku.

Then he pulled out again, slick and shining, and pressed the fat head against her tight asshole.

Bulma's eyes went wide. She tried to speak around Goku's cock, but Krillin was already pushing. The thick head forced her ass open with slow, relentless pressure. The stretch burned. Bulma's moan was high and broken. Inch by inch Krillin sank into her ass, the massive girth opening her in a way that felt impossibly tight. When he bottomed out, all fifteen inches buried in her ass, Bulma's entire body shook.

Goku pulled out of her mouth long enough for her to gasp, "Krillin—fuck—your cock is in my ass—it's so deep—"

"And it's staying there," Krillin said, already starting to thrust. The drag of that thick shaft in her ass was intense. He set a hard rhythm immediately, hips snapping forward, the wet slap of his body against hers loud. Every thrust forced a fresh gush of fluid from her empty, gaping pussy onto the sheets.

Goku moved behind her as well. While Krillin kept fucking her ass with long, deep strokes, Goku lined his cock up with her stretched pussy and pushed in. Double penetration—pussy and ass—filled her completely again. The two cocks moved inside her in different rhythms, the thin wall between them stretched tight. Bulma's arms gave out. She collapsed onto her elbows, face in the soaked sheets, ass up, taking both of them.

The new angle let Krillin drive even deeper into her ass. The head of his cock pressed against places that made her see stars. Goku's thrusts in her pussy were deep and steady.

The combined sensation was overwhelming—fullness in both holes, the constant stretch, the wet sounds of two cocks moving in her body, the continuous leak of fluid from her pussy that now ran down her thighs and added to the puddle on the floor.

Krillin's hands gripped her hips hard. He used her like a ragdoll, pulling her back onto both cocks with every thrust. The force made her marked breasts swing and bounce. He leaned forward and reached under her, grabbing one breast and squeezing hard, fingers digging into the bite marks. Then he bit the back of her shoulder, hard enough to leave another mark.

"Listen to how wet you are," Krillin panted.

"Flooding the floor. Taking both of us like a perfect little fucktoy. Going to ruin this ass the same way I ruined that pussy."

Bulma's answer was a continuous stream of broken moans and half-formed words. "So full—both of you—don't stop—harder—fuck, harder—"

They gave her harder. The bed frame protested. Fluid sprayed with every combined thrust. The puddle on the floor tiles grew larger, spreading toward the door. Some of it reached the wall in thin, glistening trails. The air was thick with the smell of sex and the wet sounds of double penetration.

They switched positions again—Bulma on her back, legs forced wide, Goku under her with his cock in her ass, Krillin above driving into her pussy. Then both of them in her ass.

That was the most intense yet.

Goku's cock was already in her ass, thick and deep. Krillin pressed the massive head of his cock against the same stretched hole and pushed. The double stretch of her ass was brutal. Bulma's scream was raw and long as both cocks forced their way into the tight channel together. The pressure was extreme

. Her ass was forced open wider than seemed possible, the two shafts grinding against each other inside the tight heat.

When both were fully buried, Bulma's body went rigid. Fluid poured from her empty pussy in a continuous stream, soaking everything beneath her. Krillin and Goku began to move—slow at first, then faster, the dual drag inside her ass turning every thrust into pure overload. The wet sounds were different now, tighter, more intense. Every time they bottomed out together, Bulma's vision went white.

Krillin's voice was pure filthy satisfaction. "Both of us in your ass. Look at that stretch. You're taking it like you were made for this. Our little ragdoll. Going to keep you full all night."

Goku's hands held her thighs open, earnest and focused. "You're so tight around us. So good. Keep coming, Bulma. Soak everything."

She did. The orgasms were continuous now, each one forcing more fluid from her pussy in hard sprays that reached the walls and the floor. The room was a complete mess—sheets black with wetness, mattress heavy, floor tiles covered in a spreading lake of her cum, walls glistening in places. The wet sounds of double anal filled the small space along with Bulma's broken screams and the two men's low, intense grunts.

They fucked her like that for a long, relentless stretch—changing angles, changing who was deeper, but never leaving her empty. Krillin's cock never stopped being the dominant presence, the extreme length and thickness turning every double penetration into something that felt like it would break her

. He bit her breasts whenever he could reach them, leaving more marks, sucking hard enough to bruise while his hips kept driving.

Bulma's voice was almost gone, reduced to hoarse, continuous moans and the occasional broken demand for more.

Her body was limp between them, used hard, stretched open, leaking constantly. The size difference was the constant center of everything—Krillin's fifteen-inch cock forcing her limits in every hole, Goku's thick cock filling whatever space was left.

They built toward the loudest climax yet. Both cocks buried deep in her ass, thrusting hard and fast, the dual stretch at its most intense. Bulma's body locked up. A massive, heavy spray of fluid erupted from her pussy, arcing high enough to hit the wall beside the bed and then raining down onto the already soaked floor. Her scream was raw and long and completely unrestrained.

At the exact same moment, a soft, shuffling sound came from the hallway outside the door.

All three of them froze.

The wet sounds stopped. Bulma's broken breathing was the loudest thing in the room. Krillin's massive cock was still buried deep in her ass alongside Goku's. Fluid continued to leak from her empty pussy in slow, thick trails that dripped onto the soaked sheets and then to the floor.

Outside the door, the shuffling footsteps stopped.

Master Roshi's voice came through the thin wood, thick and slurred with alcohol. "What in the… floor's all wet. And that noise… sounding like…"

A long pause. The three of them stayed perfectly still, hearts pounding. Krillin's hand rested on Bulma's marked breast, not moving. Goku's breath was held.

Roshi muttered to himself, voice wandering. "Must be the sake. Too much sake. Dreaming again. Wet floor in a dream… weird dream. Better go back to bed before I slip and break a hip."

More shuffling. The footsteps moved away down the hallway. A door opened and closed.

After another minute, the familiar, heavy snoring resumed from Roshi's room.

Silence..

Then Bulma let out a shaky, breathless laugh that turned into a weak moan as the two cocks still inside her shifted slightly. "Oh my god. He thought it was a dream."

Krillin's grin was pure relief and residual heat. He rolled his hips once, slow, still deep in her ass. "Lucky for us. Old pervert's too drunk to know the difference."

Goku carefully pulled out first, then Krillin. The double withdrawal left Bulma's ass gaping for several long seconds, the stretched hole slow to close, a thick mix of cum and her own fluids leaking out in a continuous stream that added to the mess on the bed. She collapsed fully onto the soaked sheets, body limp, marked breasts rising and falling with her breathing.

The three of them stayed tangled together in the wreck of the bed. The room was a complete disaster—sheets black with wetness, mattress heavy and sagging, floor tiles covered in a wide lake of Bulma's cum that reached almost to the door, walls marked with thin glistening trails. The air was thick with the smell of sex.

Krillin stretched out on one side of her, still half-hard, the massive cock lying heavy against his thigh. Goku was on the other side, earnest eyes still bright. Bulma lay between them, legs open, body covered in sweat and fluids and bite marks.

For a long time they just breathed.

Then Bulma's voice came, hoarse and raw but still sharp underneath. "That was… completely insane. Your cock is a weapon, Krillin. An actual weapon. I can still feel it. Both of you. Everywhere."

Krillin's hand traced one of the deeper bite marks on her breast, thumb brushing the bruised nipple. "You took every inch. Multiple times. In every hole. Looked so fucking good doing it."

Goku's hand rested on her stomach, fingers gentle. "You came so much. The whole room is soaked. I've never seen anything like that."

Bulma let out another weak laugh. "Because no one has a fifteen-inch cock and a best friend willing to double-team me into oblivion in the middle of the night. The floor is a lake. The walls are wet. The bed is destroyed. And I can still feel both of you inside me."

Krillin leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, then lower, mouth brushing another bite mark. "You loved it. Every second. The way you kept demanding harder. The way you flooded everything. You're our perfect little fuckdoll."

"Shut up," Bulma muttered, but there was no heat in it. Her hand found Krillin's cock and wrapped around it loosely, feeling the residual thickness. "This thing should be illegal.

The stretch was… I thought you were going to break me. Especially when both of you were in my ass at the same time. I could feel every inch. Both of you grinding against each other. It was too much and not enough at the same time."

Goku's fingers slid lower, gently tracing her still-swollen, used folds. "You were so tight around us. Even after everything. And the way you kept coming… it was amazing."

They talked like that for a long time—quiet, sex-drunk, still touching. Bulma described the fullness in detail, the way Krillin's cock had felt battering her cervix, the burn of the double anal stretch, the constant wet overload of her own body. Krillin was smug and detailed about how good she had looked stretched around him, how her pussy and ass had clenched and fluttered, how much of a mess she had made.

Goku was earnest and open about how much he had loved watching and participating, how good she had felt, how he wanted to do it again.

The touching stayed soft at first—hands stroking, mouths brushing marked skin, fingers tracing the evidence of how hard they had used her. Then it grew heavier. Krillin's cock hardened fully again under Bulma's hand. Goku's did too. Bulma's breathing changed.

"One more," she whispered. "Slower. But still deep. I want to feel it again while we talk."

They gave it to her.

Goku lay on his back. Bulma straddled him and sank down onto his thick cock with a long, low moan, taking him to the hilt. Then Krillin moved behind her, pressed the massive head of his cock against her already-used asshole, and pushed in slow.

The double penetration was still intense, the stretch still extreme, but the pace was deeper, more grinding than pounding. They moved together while they kept talking—about the size difference, about how full she felt, about the way she had soaked the entire room, about the bite marks that still throbbed, about how Roshi had almost caught them and decided it was a dream.

Bulma came again, quieter this time but still wet, more fluid leaking down around Goku's cock and adding to the mess. Krillin and Goku followed soon after, filling her again—Goku in her pussy, Krillin deep in her ass—until she was overflowing once more.

After that they truly stopped. The three of them collapsed together in the ruined, soaked bed, limbs tangled, bodies sticky and marked and completely spent. Bulma's head rested on Goku's chest.

Krillin's arm was draped over her waist, his still-impressive cock soft but heavy against her thigh. The room remained a complete mess of cum and fluids, the evidence of everything they had done..

Outside, the sky had begun to lighten toward dawn. Roshi's snores continued, steady and unaware. The rest of the house slept on.

Bulma's voice was barely a whisper, already half-asleep. "Next time… we lock the door."

Krillin's quiet, smug laugh was the last sound before exhaustion took them all. "Next time we'll make even more of a mess."

Goku's earnest, sleepy agreement followed. "Yeah. That was really fun."

They fell asleep tangled together as the first pale light of morning touched the wet floor tiles and the ruined sheets, the room still heavy with the scent and evidence of everything that had happened in the dark.

**Next Night – Kame House**

Goku left at dawn.

Chi-Chi's voice had cracked through the capsule communicator like a whip—sharp, furious, demanding he get his lazy ass home *right now* or she would fly out and drag him back by the ear. Goku had scrambled upright in the soaked, ruined bed, still sticky with the night's mess, eyes wide and earnest.

"Aw, man… Chi-Chi sounds real mad." He kissed Bulma's temple, then clapped Krillin on the shoulder. "You two… uh… be careful, okay? Don't break anything else." He grinned, a little sheepish, pulled on his pants, and was gone in a blur of orange and blue, the front door slamming behind him.

Krillin and Bulma stayed tangled in the wreckage until the sun was fully up. The room still reeked of sex. The floor tiles were still sticky. Neither of them cleaned a thing.

That night the house was quieter. Roshi had passed out early on the sake. Oolong and Turtle were already snoring. Launch was dead to the world.

Bulma locked the door herself.

The click of the bolt was loud in the dark.

She turned around. Krillin was already naked, fifteen inches of thick, heavy cock hanging half-hard between his legs, the same monster that had ruined her the night before. His eyes were dark and hungry.

"Door's locked," Bulma said, voice low and already rough. "No Goku. No interruptions. You better not hold back this time."

Krillin's grin was pure filth. "I wasn't holding back last night." He stepped in, grabbed her by the throat—not hard enough to choke, just enough to tilt her head back—and shoved two thick fingers straight into her mouth. "Open wider. You're going to take everything tonight. No breaks. No mercy. I'm going to use every hole until you're a dripping, broken mess on the floor."

Bulma sucked his fingers without hesitation, eyes locked on his. When he pulled them free they were shiny with spit. He spun her around, shoved her face-first against the wall, and yanked her sleep shorts down so hard the seam ripped. No panties. Her bare ass and already-swollen pussy were exposed.

Krillin spat on her cunt, then on her asshole. Thick, wet globs. He rubbed the spit in with two fingers, then three, shoving them deep into her pussy without warning. Bulma's forehead thunked against the wall.

"Already wet," he muttered. "Filthy girl. You were thinking about this all day, weren't you? Thinking about my cock stretching you open again."

"Yes," she hissed. "Shut up and put it in me."

He didn't. He dropped to his knees behind her, spread her cheeks with both hands, and buried his face between them. Tongue shoved deep into her pussy first, then higher, licking a long, filthy stripe up to her asshole and pushing inside. Bulma moaned, loud and unrestrained. Krillin ate her like he was starving—tongue, lips, teeth scraping her clit, two fingers pumping her cunt hard while his tongue fucked her ass. The wet sounds were obscene. Spit and her juices ran down her thighs.

When he stood again his cock was fully hard, the massive head already leaking. He rubbed it up and down her slit, coating himself, then notched it against her entrance.

"Beg."

Bulma's voice cracked. "Please. Put that fucking monster in me. Stretch me. Ruin me. I want to feel it in my stomach."

Krillin slammed every inch home in one brutal thrust.

Bulma screamed.

The stretch was immediate and vicious. Fifteen thick inches buried to the root, the fat head punching against her cervix hard enough that her whole body jerked. Krillin didn't give her a second to adjust. He pulled almost all the way out and drove back in, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls. Each thrust was deep, mean, relentless. The head of his cock battered her cervix over and over. Fluid already started leaking around the thick shaft.

"Fuck—fuck—Krillin—too deep—"

"Take it." He grabbed a fistful of her blue hair and yanked her head back, fucking her harder. "This pussy is mine tonight. Going to rearrange it. Going to make it remember the shape of my cock for weeks."

He reached around and pinched both nipples hard, twisting, then moved his hand down and slapped her clit. Bulma's knees buckled. Krillin held her up by the hair and the hip and kept pounding. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier. Every thrust forced more fluid out of her. It ran down her thighs in thick streams, dripped onto the floor tiles, formed a small puddle between her feet.

Krillin pulled out suddenly. Bulma whimpered at the empty stretch. He spun her, shoved her to her knees, and fed the massive, shiny cock straight into her mouth.

"Clean it. Taste your cunt on me."

Bulma gagged immediately. The head alone stretched her jaw wide. Krillin held the back of her head and pushed deeper, forcing the thick shaft down her throat until her nose was pressed to his pelvis and her throat bulged. He held her there, feeling her struggle and swallow around him, spit pouring down her chin and onto her tits. When he finally pulled back she gasped, strings of thick spit connecting her lips to his cock.

"Again."

He fucked her throat without mercy—long, deep strokes that made her eyes water and her mascara run. Every time she gagged he groaned and pushed deeper. Spit and precum and her own juices coated her face, her chest, dripped onto the floor. When he finally pulled free her voice was ruined.

"On the bed. Ass up. Face down."

Bulma crawled. Her thighs were shiny. The sheets from last night were still damp in places; she didn't care. She planted her face in the mattress, arched her back, and presented everything.

Krillin climbed up behind her, spat on her asshole again, and pushed the massive head against it. No fingers this time. Just cock.

The burn was sharp and immediate. Bulma's hands fisted the sheets. Krillin kept pushing—slow, relentless, the thick shaft forcing her open inch by brutal inch. When the head finally popped inside she cried out, high and broken. He didn't stop. He kept feeding her more until all fifteen inches were buried in her ass, his hips flush against her cheeks.

"Feel that?" he growled. "Your tight little ass stretched around every inch. Going to fuck it until it stays open."

He pulled back and slammed in.

The pace he set was merciless. Deep, hard, fast. Every thrust punched the air out of her lungs. The wet slap of his hips against her ass filled the room. Fluid poured from her empty pussy with every impact, soaking the sheets, running down to pool under her knees. Krillin reached under her and slapped her clit again and again while he wrecked her ass.

"Louder," he ordered. "I want the whole fucking house to almost hear you. Scream for me."

Bulma did. Her voice was raw, filthy, desperate.

"Harder—fuck my ass harder—use me—please—make it hurt—"

Krillin gave her harder. He grabbed both her wrists, pinned them in the small of her back with one hand, and used the other to shove three fingers into her dripping cunt while his cock destroyed her ass. The dual stretch made her shake. Orgasm hit her like a punch—violent, wet, a hard spray of fluid that soaked his hand and the bed. He didn't slow down. He fucked her straight through it, then through the next one, and the next.

When he finally pulled out of her ass it stayed open, gaping, pink and used. Thick strings of spit and her own juices connected the hole to the head of his cock. Krillin shoved two fingers into the open hole, then three, then four, stretching it wider while Bulma moaned into the mattress.

"Look at that. Fucked open. Disgusting. Perfect."

He flipped her onto her back, shoved her legs up to her chest, and drove back into her pussy in one long stroke. The angle let him go even deeper. The head of his cock punched her cervix with every thrust. Bulma's eyes rolled. Her mouth hung open. Spit ran from the corner of her lips.

Krillin leaned down and bit her breast—hard. Teeth sank into the soft flesh until she screamed. He left a deep, red mark, then moved to the other side and did the same. He sucked and bit and marked while his hips kept slamming. The wet, filthy sounds of her cunt taking that massive cock never stopped.

"You're a fucking mess," he panted against her skin. "Covered in spit and cum and your own juices. Ass gaping. Pussy ruined. And you're still begging for more."

"Yes—yes—don't stop—fill me—ruin me more—"

He pulled out, climbed up her body, and straddled her chest. The heavy, wet cock slapped against her face. He fed it back into her mouth and fucked her throat while he reached behind himself and shoved three fingers into her stretched, leaking cunt. Bulma choked and came again, body convulsing under him, more fluid spraying around his fingers onto the sheets.

Krillin pulled free, flipped her again, and put her on her side. He lifted one leg high and pushed back into her ass from behind while reaching around to rub her clit in rough circles. The position let him grind deep. Every thrust forced a fresh gush from her pussy. The bed was soaked. The floor under the edge was a spreading lake again.

They moved from position to position without rest—Bulma on her back with her legs forced wide, Krillin folding her in half and pounding her cunt until her cervix felt bruised; Bulma on all fours while he used her ass like a toy, one hand in her hair, the other slapping her clit; Bulma riding him reverse so he could watch his massive cock disappear into her ass over and over while he reached around and choked her lightly.

Every time she came he made it worse—rougher, deeper, more degrading.

"Say it," he ordered while he had her bent over the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor, cock buried in her pussy to the hilt. "Tell me what you are."

"Your fucktoy," Bulma gasped. "Your filthy little cock sleeve. Use me. Stretch me. Fill every hole. I don't care how disgusting it gets."

Krillin's laugh was dark. He pulled out, spat on her open cunt, then on her open ass, and shoved back into her ass while he reached under and shoved four fingers into her pussy at the same time. The stretch made her scream. He scissored his fingers inside her while his cock wrecked her ass, the wet, filthy sounds almost continuous.

"Disgusting," he muttered, almost in awe. "You're dripping down to your ankles. The floor is a fucking swamp. And you're still clenching around me like you want more."

He pulled his fingers free—shiny, dripping—and shoved them into her mouth. Bulma sucked them clean without hesitation while he kept fucking her ass.

Time blurred. The locked door stayed locked. The rest of the house stayed asleep. Inside the room the only sounds were wet flesh, broken moans, Krillin's filthy praise, and Bulma's desperate demands for harder, deeper, more.

He made her come until she was shaking and incoherent. He filled her pussy, then her ass, then her mouth, then started over. He bit her tits until they were covered in deep red marks. He slapped her clit and her ass and the insides of her thighs until everything stung. He used her like a ragdoll—flipping her, folding her, holding her open, forcing that fifteen-inch cock into whichever hole he wanted whenever he wanted.

At one point he had her on her back again, legs forced so wide her hips ached, both of his hands pinning her wrists above her head while he pounded her cunt with long, vicious strokes. Every thrust bottomed out hard. Fluid sprayed with every impact, soaking his stomach, the sheets, the floor. Bulma's voice was almost gone, reduced to hoarse, continuous moans and the occasional broken "more."

"You're going to feel this for days," Krillin growled. "Every time you sit down. Every time you walk. You're going to remember exactly how it felt to be split open on my cock."

Bulma's answer was a long, wrecked sob of pleasure as another orgasm tore through her.

He didn't stop.

He kept going until the sheets were black with wetness, until the floor tiles under the bed were a continuous shallow lake, until Bulma's body was limp and marked and leaking from every hole, until even Krillin's training-honed stamina started to fray.

Only then did he bury himself to the hilt in her ass one last time, grind deep, and come hard—thick, heavy pulses that overflowed and ran out around the base of his cock in white rivulets. He stayed inside her while he finished, feeling her flutter and clench weakly around him.

When he finally pulled out, both of her holes stayed open, used, dripping. Thick strands of cum and her own fluids leaked onto the ruined sheets in continuous slow streams.

Krillin collapsed beside her, breathing hard, one hand still resting possessively on her marked breast. Bulma lay sprawled, legs open, chest heaving, blue hair stuck to her sweat-damp face. The locked door stayed locked. The mess was even worse than the night before.

After a long silence Bulma's ruined voice whispered, "Door stays locked tomorrow night too."

Krillin's tired, filthy grin was answer enough.

He reached down, pushed two fingers back into her gaping, cum-filled pussy, and slowly started moving them again.

"Then we start earlier."

**Next Scene – Still Locked**

Krillin's two fingers moved slow and deep inside Bulma's already ruined pussy, curling against the swollen front wall while thick cum and her own fluids leaked around his knuckles. The wet sound was soft, filthy, continuous. Bulma's legs stayed open, thighs trembling, the sheets under her completely black with everything they had already done.

"You're still so loose," Krillin murmured against her ear, voice low and smug. "I can fit three easy. Four if I push." He added a third finger without waiting for an answer, stretching her further, the wet squelch louder now. "Look at that. Taking it like the messy little fucktoy you are."

Bulma's voice was raw, barely above a whisper. "Don't talk. Just do it."

Krillin laughed quietly and shoved the fourth finger in. His whole hand worked her open, knuckles pressing deep while his thumb rubbed rough circles over her swollen clit. Bulma's back arched. A fresh trickle of fluid ran out around his wrist and soaked into the mattress. He kept the pressure steady, scissoring, pushing deeper, until her thighs started to shake harder.

"Come on. One more before I put my cock back in. Flood the bed again for me."

He pressed harder. Bulma's breath hitched, then broke. Her cunt clamped down around his fingers and a hard, sudden gush sprayed out, soaking his hand, his forearm, the sheets, running down to join the lake already on the floor. She moaned through it, low and broken, hips twitching helplessly.

Krillin pulled his hand free, shiny and dripping, and wiped it across her marked tits, smearing everything over the bite bruises. Then he climbed between her legs again. His cock was fully hard once more, the thick fifteen-inch shaft heavy and veined, the head already leaking. He rubbed it up and down her open, dripping slit, coating himself, then notched it against her entrance.

"Watch," he ordered.

Bulma looked down between them. The size difference was still obscene. The massive head pressed against her swollen folds and began to sink in. Inch after thick inch disappeared into her, stretching her open all over again. The drag was slow this time, deliberate, so she felt every ridge, every vein, the fat head pushing deeper until it kissed her cervix and kept going. When his hips finally met hers, every last inch was buried.

Krillin stayed still for a long moment, just pulsing inside her, letting her feel the full, brutal stretch.

"Still so tight around the base," he said, almost in wonder. "Even after everything. This pussy was made to take me."

He pulled back halfway and slammed home.

The pace he set was different from before—deep, heavy, grinding. Every thrust bottomed out hard. Every withdrawal left her gaping for a split second before he filled her again. The wet sounds were louder now, filthier, mixed with the soft creak of the ruined bed. Fluid leaked continuously around the thick shaft, running down over his balls and dripping onto the sheets in steady rivulets.

Bulma's hands found his shoulders, nails digging in. Her voice cracked on every moan.

"Deeper—fuck, Krillin, go deeper—I can feel it in my stomach—"

"You can feel it because I'm rearranging you." He leaned down and bit the upper curve of her breast again, hard enough to leave a new mark over the old ones. His teeth sank in while his hips kept driving. When he released the flesh he licked the bruise, then moved to her nipple and bit that too. Bulma cried out, sharp and raw.

He switched angles, lifting one of her legs high over his shoulder so he could drive even deeper. The new position let the head of his cock punch against her cervix with every thrust. Bulma's eyes rolled. Her mouth fell open. Spit ran from the corner of her lips down her cheek.

"Talk to me," Krillin growled. "Tell me how it feels."

"It feels like you're splitting me in half," she gasped. "Like I'm going to break. Don't stop. Don't you fucking dare stop."

He didn't.

He fucked her through another orgasm, then another, each one forcing more fluid out in hard sprays that soaked his stomach and the bed. The puddle on the floor under the edge of the mattress grew larger, spreading toward the locked door. The air in the room was thick, heavy with the smell of sex and sweat and the wet, filthy sounds of that massive cock wrecking her cunt.

Krillin pulled out suddenly. Bulma whimpered at the empty stretch. He flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and shoved straight into her ass in one long, brutal stroke. The tight heat closed around him. Bulma's scream was muffled by the mattress. He set a hard, deep rhythm immediately, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room again.

"Ass is still so tight," he panted. "Even after I stretched it open earlier. Going to keep it open. Going to make sure it stays loose for me."

He reached under her and found her clit, rubbing rough circles while he pounded her ass. Every thrust forced a fresh gush from her empty pussy onto the sheets. Bulma's arms gave out. She collapsed face-first into the soaked mattress, ass still up, taking every inch.

Krillin used her like that for a long time—deep, relentless, the thick shaft dragging against her inner walls with every stroke. When he finally pulled out, her ass stayed open, gaping, pink and used, a thick string of fluid connecting the hole to the head of his cock. He shoved three fingers into the open hole, then four, stretching it wider while Bulma moaned into the sheets.

"Disgusting," he said, voice thick with heat. "Look at that. Fucked open and leaking. Perfect."

He climbed up, straddled her back, and fed his cock into her mouth from above, forcing her to taste her own ass on him. Bulma gagged, throat working, spit pouring down her chin. Krillin held the back of her head and fucked her throat in long, deep strokes while he reached behind himself and shoved three fingers back into her dripping cunt. The dual stimulation made her shake. Another orgasm hit her hard, fluid spraying around his fingers onto the already ruined bed.

When he pulled free of her mouth, strings of thick spit connected her lips to his cock. Her face was a mess—mascara running, spit and precum and her own juices coating her cheeks and chin and tits.

Krillin flipped her onto her back again, shoved her legs up to her chest, and drove back into her pussy. The angle was brutal. He folded her in half and pounded her with long, vicious strokes, the head of his cock battering her cervix over and over. Bulma's voice was almost gone, reduced to hoarse, continuous moans and the occasional broken demand for more.

"Harder," she managed. "Use me harder. I want to feel it tomorrow. I want to feel it for a week."

Krillin gave her harder. His hands pinned her wrists above her head. His hips snapped. The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin never stopped. Fluid sprayed with every deep thrust, soaking everything. The floor under the bed was a continuous shallow lake now. Thin trails had reached the wall.

He leaned down and bit her other breast, leaving a matching deep mark, then sucked hard enough to bruise while he kept fucking her. Bulma's body locked up under him. Another orgasm tore through her, violent and wet, a hard arc of fluid that hit his chest and ran down.

Krillin didn't slow down. He fucked her straight through it, then through the next, and the next, until her legs were shaking uncontrollably and her voice was nothing but broken sound.

Only when his own orgasm finally built did he bury himself to the hilt, grind deep, and come hard—thick, heavy pulses flooding her already overstretched cunt until it overflowed and ran out around the base of his cock in white rivulets. He stayed inside her while he finished, feeling her flutter weakly around him.

When he finally pulled out, both of her holes stayed open, used, dripping. Thick strands of cum and her own fluids leaked onto the ruined sheets in continuous slow streams. The room was a complete disaster—worse than before. Sheets black. Mattress heavy. Floor tiles covered. Walls marked. Air thick.

Krillin collapsed beside her, one arm thrown over her waist, the massive cock soft but still heavy against her thigh. Bulma lay sprawled, chest heaving, blue hair stuck to her face, body covered in sweat and fluids and deep bite marks.

For a long time the only sound was their breathing and the occasional soft drip of fluid onto the floor.

Then Bulma's ruined voice whispered, "Door stays locked. Tomorrow we start the second I wake up."

Krillin's tired, filthy grin pressed against her shoulder. His hand slid down between her legs again, two fingers pushing lazily back into her still-open, cum-filled pussy.

"Then you better sleep while you can."

He left the fingers inside her, slow and possessive, while the locked door stayed locked and the rest of Kame House slept on, completely unaware of the mess and the heat still thick in the small, ruined room.

**Next Morning – Locked Room, Kame House**

Sunlight cut through the thin curtains in hard white lines. The room still reeked of sex. The sheets were stiff and black with dried fluids. The floor tiles under the bed remained sticky. Bulma woke first, body aching in every place Krillin had used the night before. Her breasts were covered in deep purple bite marks. Her pussy and ass still felt open and sore. A slow leak of last night's cum had dried on her inner thighs.

Krillin was already awake, propped on one elbow beside her, watching. His cock lay heavy and half-hard against his thigh, the same fifteen-inch monster that had ruined her for hours. He reached over and idly traced one of the bite bruises on her breast with a fingertip.

"Morning, slut."

Bulma's voice was still wrecked. "Fuck off."

Krillin's grin was pure filth. He kept tracing the marks, then slid his hand lower, between her legs, two fingers pushing lazily into her still-loose, sticky cunt. The wet sound was soft and immediate.

"Still open," he murmured. "Still leaking my cum. You look like the biggest cock-hungry whore on the planet right now." He pumped his fingers slow, watching her face. "I've been thinking. Last night was good. But it could be better. We should invite some more people."

Bulma's eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Krillin leaned in, mouth against her ear, fingers still working inside her. "Vegeta. And your son. Trunks."

Bulma froze for half a second. Then she laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "You're out of your fucking mind."

"Am I?" Krillin pushed a third finger in, stretching her open again, the wet squelch louder. "Think about it. We lock the door. We bring them in. I tell Trunks exactly what his mother is. How she's the biggest slut in the universe. How she's so cock-hungry she'll take any dick that'll stretch her. How she spent the last two nights getting her pussy and ass destroyed by a fifteen-inch cock and still begged for more."

He curled his fingers hard against her front wall. Bulma's breath hitched.

"I tell him," Krillin continued, voice low and smug, "that his mother is a dripping, gaping fucktoy who soaks entire rooms when she comes. That she loves being used like a ragdoll. That she locks the door and takes every inch without complaint. And then I look at him and say, real clear: 'You can also fuck your mother. She'll take it. She'll beg for it. She'll come all over her own son's cock the same way she comes all over mine.'"

Bulma's face flushed dark. Her cunt clenched around his fingers. A fresh trickle of fluid ran out around his knuckles.

"You're disgusting," she whispered, but her hips shifted, pushing down onto his hand.

"You're wetter," Krillin answered. He added a fourth finger, stretching her wider, the wet sound filthy in the quiet morning air. "Listen to that. Just from me talking about it. You like the idea. You like thinking about your husband and your son walking in here, seeing you like this—marked, leaking, fucked open. You like thinking about me telling Trunks how much of a slut his mother is while I keep my cock buried in you."

He pulled his fingers free, shiny and dripping, and smeared the mess across her marked tits. Then he climbed between her legs, rubbing the thick head of his cock up and down her open slit.

"Say it," he ordered. "Say you want me to invite them. Say you want me to tell your son he can fuck his own mother."

Bulma's eyes were dark, breathing hard. "You're a sick bastard."

Krillin pushed the head in, just the first few thick inches, stretching her open all over again. "Say it or I stop."

She stared up at him for a long second. Then her voice came out low and rough.

"Invite them. Tell Trunks his mother is the biggest slut and cock-hungry whore he's ever going to meet. Tell him he can fuck me. Tell him I'll take it."

Krillin slammed the rest of his cock home in one brutal thrust. Bulma cried out, head tipping back. He set a hard, deep rhythm immediately, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin filling the room again.

"That's my girl," he growled. "Biggest slut in the house. Going to let her own son use her the same way I do. Going to soak the bed for him too." He leaned down and bit her breast hard over an existing mark, teeth sinking in while he kept pounding. "Next time the door locks, it's for four. Vegeta can watch or join. Trunks can find out exactly how his mother takes cock. And I'll be right here, telling him every filthy detail while you come around both of us."

Bulma's hands clawed at his back. Her voice broke on every thrust.

"Do it—fuck—invite them—tell him—tell my son he can fuck his mother—don't stop—"

Krillin didn't stop. He fucked her harder, deeper, the massive cock stretching her open with every stroke, the head battering her cervix. Fluid leaked around the thick shaft in continuous streams, adding to the mess on the sheets. He kept talking the whole time—filthy, detailed, relentless—describing exactly how he would introduce Trunks to his mother's gaping, used cunt, how he would hold her open and tell the boy to push in, how Bulma would moan for her own son the same way she moaned for him.

Bulma came hard around him, a sudden heavy gush that soaked his stomach and the bed. Krillin fucked her straight through it, still talking, still biting, still using her without mercy.

When he finally buried himself to the hilt and came, flooding her again, he stayed deep, grinding, mouth against her ear.

"Tomorrow night," he whispered. "I send the message. Vegeta and Trunks. Locked door. And you get to show your son exactly what kind of mother he has."

Bulma's only answer was a broken, shaky moan as another slow trickle of cum and her own fluids leaked out around the thick cock still buried inside her.

The door stayed locked. The morning light kept climbing. Outside, the rest of Kame House still slept, completely unaware.

**Morning – Locked Room, After**

Krillin stayed buried inside her for a long minute after he finished, the thick cock still twitching as the last pulses emptied into her. Bulma's breathing was ragged. Her marked breasts rose and fell against his chest. Outside the locked door the house was quiet; only the distant sound of waves and the occasional creak of old wood.

He finally pulled out slow. The long, wet drag left her open again. A thick mix of cum and her own fluids leaked out in a steady stream, soaking further into the already ruined sheets. Krillin rolled onto his side, propped on one elbow, and looked down at her.

Bulma stared at the ceiling, blue hair stuck to her damp face, body still trembling with aftershocks. The bite marks on her tits were dark purple. Her thighs were shiny. The air in the room was heavy and warm.

Krillin reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with surprising gentleness. Then he cleared his throat.

"Hey. About what I said earlier."

Bulma's eyes slid to him. Her voice was still rough. "Which part? The part where you called me the biggest slut on the planet, or the part where you talked about inviting my husband and my son so you could tell Trunks he could fuck his own mother?"

Krillin actually looked a little sheepish for once. The usual cocky edge softened. He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.

"That second one. I was kidding."

Bulma blinked. "What?"

"I was kidding," he repeated, more firmly. "I'm not telling them. I'm not inviting Vegeta. I'm definitely not inviting Trunks. I was just talking shit while I was fucking you. You know how I get when I'm that deep and you're dripping all over the place. My mouth runs. I say filthy stuff. It doesn't mean I was actually going to do it."

He watched her face carefully.

"I'm not that stupid. Or that suicidal. Vegeta would kill me. And Trunks… yeah. No. That was just dirty talk. Heat-of-the-moment crap. I don't actually want to bring them in here and announce that you're a cock-hungry slut who locks the door for me. That stays between us."

Bulma was quiet for several seconds. Then she let out a long, slow breath and turned onto her side to face him fully. Their knees touched. The wet spot under her hips made a soft sound as she moved.

"You absolute asshole," she said, but there was no real heat in it. "You had me going. You had me saying it back to you. You had me coming while you talked about my own son fucking me."

Krillin's mouth twitched. "Yeah. You did come pretty hard when I said it."

"Because you were balls-deep and biting me and your voice was right in my ear, not because I actually want that to happen." She poked him in the chest with one finger. "Don't ever pull that kind of shit again unless you're prepared for me to actually call them just to watch you panic."

He caught her wrist and kissed the inside of it, still half-smiling. "Fair. I won't. Promise. No Vegeta. No Trunks. No family invitations. Just you and me and this locked door and whatever filthy things I actually mean."

Bulma studied him for another moment, then huffed a small, tired laugh. "You're still a smug little bastard."

"And you're still the biggest slut I know." He said it softer this time, almost fond. His hand slid down her side and rested on her hip. "But that part stays private. Nobody else needs to know how loud you get when I stretch you open, or how much of a mess you make, or how you beg for it even after you've already come five times."

She shifted closer until their bodies were pressed together again. Her voice dropped. "Good. Because if you ever actually told them, I'd have to kill you. And then I'd have to explain to Vegeta why there's a dead bald guy in my bed covered in my cum."

Krillin chuckled, low and warm. "Wouldn't want that." He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, then the edge of one of the darker bite marks on her breast. "So we keep it like this. Locked door. Just us. Me using you until you can't walk straight, and you taking every inch without anyone else ever knowing."

Bulma's hand found his cock, still slick and heavy, and gave it a slow, possessive stroke. "That's the deal. You keep your filthy mouth to the bedroom. No more jokes about my son. No more invitations. Just this."

"Just this," he agreed.

He kissed her properly then—slow, deep, lingering—while his hand slid back between her legs and two fingers pushed easily into the soft, wet heat he had already claimed so thoroughly. Bulma sighed into his mouth and opened her thighs a little wider.

Outside, the rest of Kame House continued to sleep, completely unaware. Inside the locked room the conversation settled into quiet, filthy closeness, the morning light climbing higher across the wrecked bed and the two of them still tangled together in the middle of it.

**Later That Morning – Packing Up**

Bulma sat on the edge of the ruined bed, still naked, carefully pulling on a clean pair of shorts she had dug out of her travel bag. Every movement pulled at the deep bite marks on her breasts and the lingering ache between her legs. The sheets behind her were a total loss. The floor still looked like a crime scene. She didn't bother cleaning any of it.

Krillin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still completely naked. His cock hung heavy and soft between his legs, the same thick length that had kept her locked in this room for two nights straight. He watched her dress with open satisfaction.

"You're really leaving?" he asked.

"I have to." Bulma stood, wincing slightly as her thighs pressed together. "I haven't been back to Capsule Corp in days. There's work piling up. And if I stay another night Roshi's going to start asking questions about why the floor in this room is permanently sticky."

She found her tank top, pulled it on, and winced again when the fabric dragged across the bruised nipples. Krillin's eyes tracked every motion.

"Vegeta's going to notice the marks," he said, almost cheerful.

"I'll deal with Vegeta." Bulma ran a hand through her tangled blue hair, then looked at him directly. "He only needs sex once a week anyway. That's his schedule. Once. Like clockwork. He gets in, does his thing, finishes, and goes back to training or staring at the wall. It's… functional."

Krillin's eyebrows rose. A slow, smug grin spread across his face.

"Once a week?"

"Once a week," she confirmed. "He's not exactly inventive. Or particularly interested in how many times I come. Or whether the bed survives."

Krillin pushed off the wall and walked over to her. He stopped close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. His hand settled on her hip, thumb stroking the bare skin just above the waistband of her shorts.

"So if he can't keep you satisfied," he said, voice low and certain, "you just invite me and Goku. Together. We'll break you open properly. Fully. Whatever you need, for as long as you need it. No once-a-week schedule. No holding back. Just both of us taking turns and taking you at the same time until you're shaking and soaked and can't even remember what day it is."

Bulma stared up at him. Her expression stayed sharp, but a faint flush climbed her neck.

"You're very confident for a man who's about to watch me walk out the door."

"I'm realistic." Krillin's hand slid around to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him for a second. She felt the soft weight of his cock against her stomach. "You spent two nights locked in here taking every inch of me and still begging for more. You came so hard the floor still hasn't dried. Vegeta does his once-a-week routine. That's fine. But when that stops being enough—and it will—you call. Me and Goku. We'll show up. We'll lock the door. And we'll make sure every single need you've got gets completely, thoroughly, messily taken care of."

Bulma's mouth twitched. She reached down, gave his cock one slow, deliberate stroke with her fingers, then let go.

"You're a menace."

"And you're going to call." He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, right over a fading bruise. "When you do, we'll be ready. Both of us. No limits. No schedule. Just whatever it takes to leave you walking funny for a week."

She stepped back, picked up her bag, and headed for the door. At the threshold she paused, looked over her shoulder, and gave him a dry little smile.

"Don't hold your breath, Krillin. But… if I do call, you and Goku better bring your A-game."

Krillin's grin was pure filthy certainty.

"We will. Count on it."

Bulma unlocked the door, slipped out into the quiet hallway, and closed it behind her. The soft click of the latch left Krillin alone in the ruined room, still naked, still smiling, already thinking about the next time the door would lock with all three of them on the inside.

**Kame House – Cleanup, Then Home**

Krillin spent the better part of an hour scrubbing the ruined room. He stripped the blackened sheets, mopped the sticky floor tiles, wiped the walls, and opened the windows wide to air out the heavy smell of sex. By the time he finished, the place looked almost normal again—almost. He left a quiet note for Roshi about "spilled water" and locked the door behind him.

He flew home under the midday sun.

When he stepped through the front door of the small house he shared with Eighteen and Marron, the familiar smell of cooking hit him first. Eighteen stood at the kitchen counter in a simple white tank top and short black shorts, blonde hair tied back loosely, bare feet on the clean floor. She was packing a small lunch container—rice, vegetables, a few of Marron's favorite snacks.

Marron was nowhere in sight.

Eighteen looked up the moment the door closed. Her blue eyes tracked him from head to toe, calm and sharp as always.

"You're back," she said. "Marron's at Chi-Chi's. I already called. She's staying the next two nights. I told her we needed uninterrupted time."

Krillin dropped his bag. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

"Two nights."

"Two nights." Eighteen closed the container, set it aside, and wiped her hands on a towel. "I don't want anyone else in the house. No interruptions. Just you."

She walked over to him, stopped close enough that he could feel the heat of her body, and looked straight into his eyes.

"You're the only one who's ever been inside me. Body count of one. You. That's how it stays. I don't let anyone else near me. I don't want anyone else. Only you."

Krillin's hand settled on her hip. "I know."

"And yours?" she asked, voice even. "You've never told me the full number."

He didn't look away. "More than twenty. Chi-Chi. Bulma. Videl. Panchy. Launch. A few others over the years. Training trips, tournaments, nights when things got messy. I never hid that I wasn't a saint before you. But you're the only one I come home to. The only one I stay with. The only one I plan on keeping."

Eighteen's expression didn't change, but her hand slid down the front of his pants and closed around the thick shape of his cock through the fabric.

"Good. Keep it that way. Now take your clothes off. I'm done cooking. Marron's gone. The house is ours."

Krillin stripped. His cock sprang free already half-hard, the full fifteen inches hanging heavy and thick. Eighteen's gaze dropped to it the way it always did—possessive, hungry, completely unashamed.

She pulled her own tank top off in one motion. No bra. Full, firm breasts, pale nipples already tightening. The shorts followed. She stood naked in the middle of the kitchen, blonde hair loose now, body perfect and strong and entirely his.

"Two days," she said. "Use me however you want. Every room. Every surface. I want the whole floor covered by the time we're done. I want to feel it for a week."

Krillin stepped in, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her onto the kitchen counter in one easy motion. He spread her legs wide, lined up the fat head of his cock against her already-slick entrance, and pushed in.

Eighteen's head tipped back. A low, controlled moan left her throat as the thick shaft stretched her open inch by inch. She was tight—always tight for him, the only cock that had ever been inside her—and the stretch was immediate and intense. When his hips finally met hers, all fifteen inches buried, she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked them.

"Hard," she ordered. "Don't hold back."

He didn't.

Krillin fucked her on the kitchen counter with deep, powerful strokes, the wet slap of skin echoing off the cabinets. Every thrust bottomed out. Fluid already began to leak around the thick base of his cock and drip onto the clean counter, then down onto the floor. Eighteen held onto his shoulders, eyes locked on his, taking every inch without flinching.

When she came the first time it was sharp and sudden—a hard clench around him and a clear spray of fluid that soaked his stomach and the counter. Krillin didn't slow down. He kept pounding her through it, then lifted her off the counter without pulling out, carried her to the living room, and dropped her onto the couch.

He flipped her onto her hands and knees, grabbed her hips, and drove back into her from behind. The new angle let him go even deeper. Eighteen braced herself on the arm of the couch and pushed back to meet every thrust. The wet sounds grew louder. More fluid dripped onto the cushions and the floor beneath.

"Harder," she said, voice steady even as her body shook. "Use me like the fuckdoll you know I am for you."

Krillin's hands tightened on her hips. He fucked her like that until the couch was soaked, then pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and shoved back in while she hooked her legs over his shoulders. He leaned down and bit the upper curve of one breast hard enough to leave a mark. Eighteen's breath hitched, but she only pulled him closer.

They moved through the house without pause.

Kitchen floor next—Eighteen on her back on the cool tiles, legs forced wide, Krillin folding her in half and pounding her cunt until a thick puddle of her juices and his precum spread under them. He pulled out only long enough to shove into her ass, the tight heat making both of them groan. He fucked her ass on the kitchen floor until she came again, fluid spraying from her empty pussy across the tiles.

Hallway wall—Eighteen's back against the plaster, one leg hooked over his arm, the massive cock slamming up into her while her head tipped back and her mouth fell open. Cum and her own juices ran down both their legs and pooled on the floorboards.

Bathroom—shower running, Eighteen bent over the sink, watching their reflection while Krillin wrecked her from behind, one hand in her hair, the other rubbing her clit. Water mixed with the fluids running down her thighs. The floor of the bathroom filled with a shallow white-tinged lake.

Bedroom—sheets ripped aside, Eighteen on her stomach, then on her side, then riding him reverse so he could watch the thick shaft disappear into her over and over. He came inside her the first time there, flooding her cunt until it overflowed and ran out around the base of his cock in thick white rivulets that soaked the mattress.

He didn't stop.

He kept going—living room floor, kitchen table, against the front door, on the stairs, back to the couch, then the bedroom again. Every surface. Every corner. Eighteen took it all. She never told him to slow down. She only demanded more, deeper, harder, told him to use her like the ragdoll and fuckdoll she was for him alone.

By the end of the first night the entire first floor was slick with white semen and clear cum. Footprints tracked through it. The air was thick and heavy. Eighteen's body was covered in bite marks and handprints. Her pussy and ass stayed open and leaking between rounds.

They slept in short, exhausted stretches, then started again.

Second day was worse—longer, filthier, more relentless. Krillin carried her from room to room, bent her over every piece of furniture, held her open, filled every hole, came in her cunt, her ass, across her tits and face and stomach. Eighteen came until her legs shook and she could barely speak, then came more. The floor of every room was covered in a continuous layer of mixed fluids—thick white streaks of his cum and the clear, heavy sprays of hers.

By the evening of the second day she couldn't stand. Her legs wouldn't hold her. Krillin carried her to the bedroom one last time, laid her on the completely ruined mattress, and pushed back into her slow and deep while she lay limp and open under him. He fucked her through one final, shaking orgasm, then buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding her already overflowing cunt until it leaked out in a steady white stream onto the sheets.

He stayed inside her afterward, breathing hard, forehead against hers.

Eighteen's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and satisfied.

"Only you. No one else ever. Body count stays one."

Krillin kissed her slow and deep, still buried inside her, the whole house around them wrecked and glistening with everything they had done.

"Only me," he agreed. "For as long as you want it."

Outside, the sun was setting. Marron was safe at Chi-Chi's. The house was theirs, every floor covered, every corner used, and Eighteen lay completely spent and claimed beneath the only man who had ever been inside her.

**Continuation – Night of the Second Day into Morning**

Krillin stayed inside her long after the last orgasm faded. Eighteen's body was limp beneath him, legs open and trembling, every muscle spent. The thick cock still buried in her cunt twitched occasionally, pushing another slow trickle of cum out around the base. The mattress under them was black with fluids. The entire house smelled like sex—every room, every surface, every corner they had used.

He finally pulled out with a long, wet sound. Eighteen's pussy stayed open, gaping slightly, a thick white stream leaking out onto the ruined sheets. She didn't try to close her legs. She simply lay there, breathing hard, blue eyes half-lidded and fixed on him.

Krillin collapsed beside her. One arm draped across her waist. His free hand rested on the soft curve of her lower stomach, feeling the faint residual heat.

"You can't move," he said quietly.

"No." Eighteen's voice was rough, almost gone. "Legs won't work. Everything aches. Inside and out." She turned her head just enough to look at him. "Worth it."

He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, then the fading bite mark on her shoulder. "House is destroyed. Floor's a lake in every room. We're going to be scrubbing for days."

"Later." She reached down with one shaky hand and wrapped her fingers loosely around his cock, still slick and heavy. "Marron is safe. Door is locked. No one else is coming. You're the only one who's ever been inside me. That's how it stays."

Krillin's thumb stroked slow circles on her stomach. "I know. You made that clear."

"Say it again."

"You're the only one now. Body count of one for you. Mine doesn't matter anymore. Only this."

Eighteen's fingers tightened weakly around him. "Good. Because if anyone else ever tried, I'd kill them. And then I'd make you clean it up."

He huffed a tired laugh and pulled her closer. Their bodies stuck together with sweat and drying cum. Outside the window the sky had gone fully dark. The house was silent except for their breathing and the occasional soft drip of fluid from the soaked sheets onto the floor.

They drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours. Every time Eighteen shifted, another slow leak of his cum ran out of her. Every time Krillin's hand moved, it found another mark he had left—bruises on her hips, bite marks on her breasts, the faint red imprint of his fingers on her thighs.

Around midnight she woke him with a low sound and a weak push of her hips.

"Again," she whispered. "Slow. I can't take hard right now. But I want you back inside."

Krillin moved over her carefully. He spread her thighs with gentle hands—she was still completely open and wet—and guided the thick head of his cock back to her entrance. He pushed in slow, watching her face the entire time. The stretch was easier now, her body already molded to him, but she still gasped when the head kissed her cervix and the full length sank home.

He stayed deep and still for a long moment, just feeling her flutter around him.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay." Her arms came up around his neck, weak but insistent. "Move. Slow. Fill me again."

He did. Long, deep, grinding thrusts. No pounding this time—just the heavy drag of fifteen inches sliding in and out of her used cunt while she lay open and claimed beneath him. Fluid kept leaking around the shaft with every stroke, adding to the mess. Eighteen's eyes stayed locked on his. Her breathing stayed steady even as soft, broken sounds left her throat.

He came inside her again without increasing the pace—thick pulses that overflowed and ran out in white rivulets down the crack of her ass and onto the sheets. He stayed buried afterward, forehead against hers, both of them breathing the same air.

"Two days," she murmured. "You kept your word. Every corner. Every surface. Whole floor covered. I can't walk. I can barely feel my legs. Perfect."

Krillin kissed her slow and deep. "We'll clean tomorrow. Or the day after. Marron stays at Chi-Chi's until you're ready to move again."

"Good." Eighteen's fingers traced the line of his jaw. "No one else. Only you. Forever."

"Only me," he agreed.

They stayed like that until the first pale light of morning crept through the curtains—still joined, still sticky, the entire house around them a wreck of white semen and clear cum, every room used, every surface claimed. Eighteen's body remained limp and open beneath the only man who had ever been inside her, and Krillin kept her close, already planning how many more days they could stretch this before the real world came knocking again.

**After the Cleaning – Bathroom**

It took them most of the morning and into the afternoon to scrub the house. Every floorboard, every tile, every surface had to be washed. The sheets were beyond saving and went straight into the trash. By the time the last of the white streaks and dried fluids were gone, both of them were sweaty, tired, and still naked.

Eighteen stood in the middle of the clean living room, blonde hair loose, body still covered in fading bite marks and handprints. Her legs were steady again, but the deep ache between them remained.

"Shower," she said. "Now."

Krillin followed her into the bathroom. The moment the door closed he turned the water on hot. Steam began to fill the small space. Eighteen stepped under the spray first, tilting her head back so the water ran over her face and down her marked breasts. Krillin climbed in behind her, the thick length of his cock already half-hard against the curve of her ass.

She felt it and pushed back deliberately.

"You're not done," she said over the sound of the water.

"Not even close."

Krillin reached past her, grabbed the soap, and ran his soapy hands over her body—breasts, stomach, the soft insides of her thighs. When his fingers slid between her legs she was already wet again, the water mixing with fresh slick. He washed her thoroughly, then turned her to face the tiled wall.

"Hands on the wall. Ass out."

Eighteen obeyed without hesitation. She braced both palms flat against the wet tiles, arched her back, and presented herself. Water ran down the long line of her spine and over the perfect curve of her ass. Krillin stepped in close, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down the cleft, coating himself in soap and her own wetness. He pressed the thick tip against her tight asshole and pushed.

The stretch was immediate and intense. Eighteen's head dropped forward. A low, raw moan tore out of her throat as the massive head forced its way inside. Krillin kept pushing—slow at first, then harder—feeding her inch after thick inch until his hips were flush against her wet cheeks and all fifteen inches were buried deep in her ass.

"Fuck—" Her voice cracked. "So deep—"

Krillin didn't give her time to adjust.

He pulled back almost all the way and slammed home. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the tiles. Eighteen's moan turned sharp and loud. He set a merciless pace immediately—deep, hard, relentless thrusts that drove the thick cock into her ass over and over. Every impact forced her forward against the wall. Water sprayed around them. Soap and her own fluids ran down the insides of her thighs and swirled toward the drain.

"Harder," she gasped, even as her voice broke on every thrust. "Don't hold back—use my ass—fuck—"

Krillin grabbed her hips hard enough to bruise and gave her exactly what she asked for. He fucked her ass without mercy, long powerful strokes that bottomed out every time. The thick shaft stretched her open completely. The wet, filthy sounds of his cock driving into her filled the steamy bathroom. Eighteen's moans grew louder, rawer, almost continuous—high, broken sounds that bounced off the tiles with every brutal thrust.

He reached around and rubbed her clit in rough circles while he pounded her. Her legs started to shake. A hard orgasm hit her suddenly—her whole body locking up, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as her ass clenched tight around the massive cock. Fluid sprayed from her empty pussy, mixing with the shower water and running down both their legs.

Krillin didn't slow down.

He kept fucking her through it, hips snapping harder, the wet slap of skin louder than the water. Eighteen's forehead pressed against the tiles. Her mouth stayed open. Moans poured out of her without restraint—loud, desperate, completely unfiltered.

"Krillin—fuck—your cock is too big—ass is so full—don't stop—don't you dare stop—"

He leaned over her, chest against her wet back, and bit the side of her neck hard while he kept driving into her. One hand stayed on her clit, rubbing fast and rough. The other braced against the wall beside hers. His cock never left her ass—fifteen thick inches slamming deep, stretching her open, using her without pause.

Another orgasm ripped through her. Her knees nearly buckled. Krillin held her up by the hips and kept going, merciless, relentless, the thick cock wrecking her ass while the shower water poured over both of them. The floor of the tub was slick with soap, water, and the clear fluid still leaking from her cunt.

He changed the angle slightly, pushing her chest flatter against the wall so her ass arched higher. The new position let him drive even deeper. Eighteen's moans turned into broken cries. Her fingers scraped against the wet tiles. Every brutal thrust forced another raw sound out of her throat.

"Take it," Krillin growled against her ear. "Every inch. This ass is mine. Only mine."

"Yours—" she gasped. "Only yours—fuck my ass harder—fill it—use me—"

He did. The pace turned savage. The wet, heavy impacts never stopped. Eighteen's voice stayed loud—moaning, crying out, begging for more even as her legs trembled and her body shook. When he finally buried himself to the hilt and came, it was with a deep, guttural groan. Thick pulses of cum flooded her ass, overflowing around the base of his cock and running down her thighs in white streaks that the shower water only partially washed away.

He stayed deep inside her afterward, breathing hard, still buried to the root while the hot water cascaded over them. Eighteen's arms stayed braced against the wall. Her ass clenched weakly around him. Loud, shaky moans still left her throat with every small aftershock.

Krillin kissed the back of her shoulder, then the side of her neck where he had bitten her.

"Still standing?" he asked, voice rough.

"Barely." Eighteen's reply was hoarse from how hard she had been moaning. "Don't pull out yet. Keep it in. I want to feel it a little longer."

He stayed exactly where he was—fifteen inches buried deep in her ass, the shower still running, the bathroom filled with steam and the sound of their breathing—while the last of the white cum continued to leak out around his cock and wash down the drain.