Chapter 91: Sleep fucking?

“Fuck… Stacy, don’t force me. I’m already trying my best to control myself.”

Kyle’s voice was a low, strained whisper in the narrow space between their sleeping bodies. He carefully tried to lift Stacy’s limp hand off his cock, but the moment he moved it, her fingers only curled more loosely around the shaft and gave another slow, unconscious stroke. The soft, warm pressure was already more than enough to keep him fully hard. Blood pulsed thickly through him, and every small shift of her palm dragged the sensitive skin in a way that made his stomach tighten.

*Drape.*

Before he could even finish adjusting her hand, a heavy, soft thigh slid over his crotch from the other side. Sophia’s. The mature, juicy weight of it settled directly across his cock and rubbed in a slow, sleeping motion as she shifted in her dreams. The contrast was overwhelming compared to Stacy’s smaller, warmer hand still loosely wrapped around him while her mother’s thicker, softer thigh pressed and slid along the entire length.

“Mother like daughter… ughh—”

The dual sensation was brutal. His cock twitched hard between them, trapped and throbbing. He tried to steer his thoughts anywhere else stats, video views, the motorcycle outside but the blood wouldn’t listen. The position itself was pure torture: two naked, thoroughly used women pressed tightly against him, their breasts soft and heavy on either side of his chest, their warm breath brushing his neck and collarbone, their skin still faintly sticky with dried sweat and cum. Every tiny movement they made in sleep created new friction against his body.

“Fuck, this is double trouble…”

Ten minutes passed like that. Ten long minutes of him lying rigid between them, jaw clenched, trying to endure instead of enjoy. Their protruding nipples dragged against his arms whenever they breathed deeper. Their hips shifted. Their thighs flexed. The heat of their bodies soaked into him until the last thread of restraint finally snapped.

“Fuck it. You asked for it.”

His hands moved.

He brought both palms up and cupped their breasts at the same time. Stacy’s softer, slightly smaller pair on his right, Sophia’s fuller, heavier ones on his left. He squeezed, feeling the give of the flesh, then found their nipples and pinched. A slow twist followed. Soft, involuntary sounds left both women’s throats, still deep in sleep. Stacy’s was higher and breathier; Sophia’s was lower, almost a sleepy moan. Their bodies shifted closer on instinct, pressing more of their soft weight against him.

Kyle exhaled shakily. The pill’s extreme effect was long gone. What he had left was still bigger than his old self seven solid inches of purified, leaner cock, the loose skin tightened from months of training and mana refinement but it was no longer the brutal nine-to-ten-and-a-half he had been swinging the day before. It was more than enough.

He carefully lifted Stacy’s thigh, angled his hips, and rubbed the swollen head of his cock along her still-slick folds. Even in sleep she was wet from everything that had been pumped into her earlier. He pushed in slowly, inch by careful inch, until he was fully seated inside her warm, soft pussy.

A quiet, shaky breath left him.

He stayed still for a moment, just feeling the heat and the way her walls fluttered weakly around him in sleep. Then he began to move—slow, deep, gentle thrusts that barely made the bed shift. His mouth found her nearest breast. He latched on and suckled, tongue dragging over the nipple while his hand continued to knead the soft flesh. Stacy made a small, unconscious sound and her hips gave the faintest answering roll

.

After a dozen slow strokes he pulled out of her with a wet, quiet sound, turned his hips the other way, and did the same to Sophia. The older woman’s cunt was hotter, slightly looser from the thorough use the night before, but still soft and welcoming. He sank into her just as carefully, burying every inch, then resumed the same unhurried rhythm. His mouth switched to her fuller breast, sucking the thicker nipple while his free hand played with the other. Sophia’s sleeping body reacted with a deeper, throatier noise and a slow press of her thigh against his hip.

He alternated like that for a long time.

Pull out of one, sink into the other. Slow, deliberate thrusts. Mouth moving from one pair of tits to the other—suckling, licking, gently biting the nipples until they stiffened between his lips. Hands never idle: squeezing, lifting, thumbing the soft undersides, rolling the peaks. Their bodies stayed heavy and pliant against him, only giving small, instinctive reactions—soft moans, tiny rolls of the hips, the occasional tightening of their walls around his cock when he bottomed out.

The cramped space between them made every movement intimate. Their breasts stayed mashed against his chest and arms. Their warm breath mixed with his. The wet, quiet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of one sleeping pussy and then the other filled the small gap of air between their bodies. Cum from the night before still slowly leaked out around him whenever he pushed deep, coating his shaft and dripping down onto the already ruined sheets.

He kept the pace gentle the entire time. No rough slamming, no sharp hips. Just long, rolling strokes that let him feel every soft difference between them. Stacy tighter and warmer, Sophia deeper and heavier. He suckled one nipple while pinching the other, switched sides, repeated. Their sleeping faces stayed slack and peaceful even as their bodies quietly accepted him.

Minutes stretched. His own breathing grew heavier. The dual sensation of moving between two different cunts, two different pairs of tits, two different soft bodies pressed against him from both sides, was almost too much. He had to slow down several times just to keep from finishing too early.

He was buried deep inside Sophia, mouth latched onto her breast, when her eyelashes finally fluttered.

At almost the same moment, Stacy’s fingers twitched against his side and her eyes cracked open as well.

Both women were waking up—with his cock still inside one of them, his mouth on a nipple, and their naked bodies still tightly sandwiching him between them on the ruined pastel bed.