The True Endgame

As nervous and silent as Fenrir is as Serra leads him to the supposed love hotel, his wagging tail betrays his calm demeanor. At least he isn't the only one trying to stay calm. Cassiel is right there being led by Serra's other hand, constantly fidgeting around and wishing to run away.

Just because she knew of the plan ahead of time does not mean that she is ready for what is to come.

Before either of the two being pulled along even have a chance to calm their nerves, they find themselves inside of a large, wooden building with Serra digging a key out from her pocket to unlock the door in front of them.

Fenrir can't even remember what the building looked like as he was being led here.

With the door unlocked, Serra turns around just in time to catch Cassiel slowly stepping away. Unfortunately for Cassiel, Serra grabs her wrist and pulls both the nervous tsundere and the wolf into the room.

She closes the door behind them.

The room itself features a few lit candles with gentle flames flickering as they waft the scent of fruit into the air, a large bed in the shape of a heart covered in almost a dozen pillows and pink sheets, and little else.

"Had to get a cheap room," Serra explains.

She finds it hard to look at them now.

Getting them here was the easy part. What comes next is the hard part in more than one way.

"Do either of you uhh, have experience?" Fenrir asks.

"Of course not, you bastard!" Cassiel shouts, roughly pushing him as if to punish him, but she ends up incidentally pushing him down onto the bed.

Fenrir feels calmer now that he's reminded just how fl.u.s.tered she is, and something about being called a bastard proves that this is just like any other time they spend together. "Didn't know you had a dominant side in you," he teases her.

Cassiel takes the bait.

She stomps forward, grabs him by his collar, and begins violently shaking him while trying to think of what profanities to shout at him.

What Cassiel doesn't realize is Serra sneakily unclasping her armor.

Before Cassiel catches onto Serra's devious hands, her b.r.e.a.s.tplate comes undone and falls onto Fenrir.

He's also focusing on the fact that her b.r.e.a.s.ts are just as large in-game as they are in real life.

The grey vest still covering her c.h.e.s.t does little for support. Its thin fabric hugs against her b.r.e.a.s.ts as they freely hang and shake within the cloth.

Every single movement she makes causes them to sway.

Fenrir's eyes are fixated on her b.r.e.a.s.ts. It is as if they are a pair of hanging pendulums hypnotizing him – beckoning him to come closer.

He would were it not for the fact that Cassiel begins shaking him even harder when she sees where he's staring. "What is with you men and tits?! I swear! It's all you bastards ever care about!" she shouts at him. She's so focused on his own perverse stare that she can't even be angry at Serra.

This is the happiest he's ever been to be getting shaken and shouted at by Cassiel.

She can't shake him without also shaking herself.

Cassiel's grip switches from his collar to his neck.

If he's to die and be reset, at least he'll go out with a great view.

Serra saves the day by grabbing onto Cassiel's sides and squeezing them, causing the taller girl to squeak and jump.

"What do you think you're doing?! You're supposed to—" Cassiel shouts at Serra but stops when she turns around and looks at her.

Fenrir peeks from around Cassiel to see why she went silent.

All Serra is wearing is a pair of white, bikini p.a.n.t.i.e.s. Her silver hair hangs down over her c.h.e.s.t in just the perfect position to cover her n.i.p.p.l.es like when he first met her, but he can still see the slight curves of her b.r.e.a.s.ts sticking out from the sides of her hair.

It's been difficult remembering just how petite and perfect her figure is with the clothes she's been wearing. In-game, she always wears her pirate-lite costume which loosely hangs on her. In reality, she was wearing a parka, t-shirt, and jeans. Now, she has naught more than u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r which covers her crotch while leaving little to the imagination.

He is also reminded of just how s.e.xy her h.i.p.s are. While s.e.xy isn't a word that he would normally use to describe Serra, her h.i.p.s definitely are. She has the h.i.p.s of a fertility goddess. They reach ever so slightly farther out than her shoulders do, and they look like they would be the best possible handles to hold onto for what will soon come. He may want to bury his face in Cassiel's bust, but he wants to hold onto Serra's wide h.i.p.s just as much.

Serra finally breaks thanks to Fenrir's intense staring.

"Don't stare so much… this is embarrassing. I – I don't want to be the only one taking my clothes off, so…" Serra says, her voice meek.

Fenrir – Ryouta, may not have the confidence to strip himself in front of a couple of perfect girls in reality, but in-game as Fenrir, he can force himself to.

Piece by piece, he strips himself of his clothes. First is the leather vest. Then is the navy blue cloth vest underneath that, then his brown shirt, and he only stops when he reaches down to his pants. All that is holding them up is a single button.

This is where making a character meant to appeal to girls pays off.

He's taller than them both by over a foot; he is covered in lean, toned muscle; and he's even cleanly shaven for them.

A few beads of sweat roll down his c.h.e.s.t and over his abs.

To his surprise, Cassiel is the first one unable to stop herself from touching him.

She reaches a single finger out to tentatively poke his muscled core.

The tip of her finger traces down to his waist before changing course and slowly – tantalizingly slowly, tracing back up his torso until she reaches his neck.

"I guess I'm going to have to work out more in real life if you're into muscles," Fenrir teases her.

"Sh-shut up," Cassiel responds, not a single ounce of anger anywhere in her voice. "I'm – I'm only doing this so you don't reset if you die, you bastard."

The timid tone of her voice and the curious expression on her face betray her words.

"If you're touching me, do I get to touch you?" he teasingly asks, raising his hands towards her c.h.e.s.t.

"Tch, of c-course you'd want to…"

She doesn't say no, and she isn't backing away, so Fenrir raises his hands closer and closer until they're but an inch away from Cassiel's still-clothed b.r.e.a.s.ts.

Fenrir ascends from being a v.i.r.g.i.n who has never touched b.o.o.b.s before to being a v.i.r.g.i.n who has touched b.o.o.b.s.

It isn't enough. He wants to experience how they feel without any fabric in the way. Reaching down, he slides his hands down to the bottom of her vest and then slides them up underneath it until they're holding onto her generous b.r.e.a.s.ts once more.

Cassiel winces and looks away with cheeks burning bright red. She has to bite her lower lip to prevent herself from letting any noises out as Fenrir experimentally and directly fondles her b.r.e.a.s.ts.

He presses his fingers into their malleable flesh, rolls them around in his hands, and eventually positions his hands so that her n.i.p.p.l.es are pressing into his palms.

The sensation of learning a skill rings within him.

It makes sense that a game with skills for literally everything would have skills related to s.e.x.

But that's not important right now. What is important is gently teasing and pinching her n.i.p.p.l.es between his fingers as he uses his palms to knead and massage her b.r.e.a.s.ts.

Fenrir doesn't even realize that Serra is behind him until she loops her arms around him and presses her own b.a.r.e c.h.e.s.t against his back.

She may not be as busty as Cassiel is, but he can still tell the difference between her normal skin and the soft, warm skin of her b.r.e.a.s.ts as she presses herself against his large and muscular back.

Serra gently runs her hands up and down his c.h.e.s.t as she tenderly kisses his neck.

But then one of her hands leaves his c.h.e.s.t to instead travel down towards his waist.

Fenrir looks down at himself to see what the situation is. Her hand is heading directly for that sizeable bulge pressing up against his pants.

He's already fully erect at this point, and it is obvious to each of the girls. The fabric of his pants is also thin enough that they can see exactly how thick and long his member is just from it bulging up against it.

Cassiel finds her eyes locked onto his length as every single throb excites her. It looks like a living being of its own trying to break free from its linen confines.

Serra is the first to experience his length. She undoes the button of his pants and then slides her hand underneath them until she reaches the base of his shaft. She flinches when she first touches it and feels it throb, almost pulling her hand back out, but finds the courage to instead gently rub her hand up along the topside of his girthy length.

With one hand on his c.h.e.s.t, another on his tool, her lips against his neck, and his hands on Cassiel's b.r.e.a.s.ts – he already feels like he's about to burst. This is far too much stimulation for a v.i.r.g.i.n like him.

His legs stiffen and his toes curl. He's on the verge of climaxing already and his pants aren't even off yet. There's no way that he's going to let himself c.u.m already.

It's obvious to the girls just how hard he's holding his p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e back from the intense look on his face and how still his body is.

Serra whispers into his ear, "It's okay. You can c.u.m," she pauses, pressing her lips even closer to his ear and lowering her voice, "Ryouta."

Fenrir can't hold back his d.e.s.i.r.e to c.u.m any longer. With a p.l.e.a.s.u.r.ed groan, his hands on Cassiel's b.r.e.a.s.ts subconsciously grip her harder as the first burst of his hot seed shoots out into his pants.

Serra slides her hand up to the tip of his length to try and stimulate it with gentle strokes as he c.u.ms. She even takes her lips away from his ear to instead place a series of soft kisses on his neck as if rewarding him for c.u.m.m.i.n.g.

She waits until she feels his c.o.c.k stop pulsating before pulling her hand out.

Proud of her work, she holds her sticky hand covered in his warm, thick c.u.m up for Fenrir and Cassiel to see.

Cassiel looks like she doesn't know how to feel about the sight. It's hot, but at the same time, kind of gross.

But that's only until Serra pulls herself away from Fenrir to run her c.u.m-covered hand down her own abdomen, smearing his c.u.m into her skin.

Fenrir is still catching his breath and calming down from his o.r.g.a.s.m.

While normally, a man might be out of action for at least a couple of minutes after c.u.m.m.i.n.g, the throbbing bulge serves as evidence that he's ready for more.

"Cass," Serra says, lying back on the bed and beckoning Cassiel over with each of her hands.

Fenrir finally takes his hands off of Cassiel's b.r.e.a.s.ts so that she can go to Serra.

"Wh-what?" Cassiel asks Serra.

Serra answers by grabbing Cassiel's wrists and pulling her on top of herself.

"Wha—what do you think you're doi—mmf," Cassiel is interrupted when Serra loops her arms around Cassiel's neck to lean up and press her lips into the other girl's.

Fenrir can't stand wearing pants any longer. They're too confining, and also too sticky now, to continue wearing.

He slips his pants off and allows all of his inches to proudly stand erect in the air. Looking down at his length, he has to admit that he's pretty proud of it.

Character creation is a wonderful thing.

Fenrir watches as Cassiel weakly squirms around, acting like she wants to break free and escape Serra's kissing lips, yet puts no real effort into it.

Serra beckons Fenrir over with one of her hands behind Cassiel's head.

This girl is something else.

Doing as she requests, Fenrir climbs back onto the bed and positions himself behind Cassiel.

Whatever armor she has left on, Fenrir strips it off piece by piece until all she has left is her vest and skirt.

Both Serra and Fenrir know what they want to take off next.

Serra breaks her lips away from Cassiel's so that she can start tugging Cassiel's vest up. Fenrir lifts Cassiel's arms above her head to make Serra's job easier.

"H-hey! Wh-what do you think you two are – wait!" Cassiel tries stopping them, but she's too slow.

Her vest slides right off, allowing her b.r.e.a.s.ts to bounce free above Serra's face.

The smaller one of the two girls wastes no time in pressing her face forward against Cassiel's bust. Her small, warm lips wrap around whichever one of Cassiel's erect n.i.p.p.l.es is the closest.

If Cassiel wasn't squirming around and making embarrassing noises before, she definitely is now.

Teaming up on Cassiel with Serra fills Fenrir with confidence. Not being the one getting teased and sneak attacked from behind for once is now.

Thinking of which, that gives him an idea.

With Cassiel on her hands and knees again overtop of Serra, Fenrir lifts her skirt up so that Cassiel's rounded rear and p.a.n.t.i.e.s are visible to him. He actually couldn't tell before, but now that he's looking directly at her without any clothes in the way, she has a great a.s.s that matches her bountiful c.h.e.s.t.

He reaches forward to firmly grab each of her cheeks. His fingers melt into them just as they did with her b.r.e.a.s.ts, and her flesh jiggles just as much here with her movements as her b.r.e.a.s.ts do. Whether it is her c.h.e.s.t or her rear, Cassiel is just unbelievably soft and squishy. Yet, at the same time, there is a firmness to her body. She may not have much in the way of visible muscle, but she is toned and slim.

Now for revenge.

Fenrir smacks his rod against her cheeks. "How's it feel being the one getting a pole from behind?" he teases.

Cassiel turns her head to glare at him but doesn't actually say anything.

Instead, when he smacks his tool down against her again, he feels her roll her h.i.p.s back into him in a wanting motion.

That feral sensation stirs within him.

This pose – having her on her hands and knees, feeling his length against her rear as she rolls back against it, and seeing that fl.u.s.tered expression on her face that looks like she wants to yell at him but is also enjoying this too much to do so – it brings out the feral side within him.

Taking her p.a.n.t.i.e.s off the normal way would be a pain, so instead, he just rips them enough to reveal her lower lips.

They are already glistening from her own arousal. When he looks at her pink lips, he feels as if they are trying to tempt his length to enter them – they are inviting him.

With one hand gripping the base of his c.o.c.k and the other holding onto her a.s.s, he teases her lips by sliding the crown of his c.o.c.k between them.

C.u.m left on his c.o.c.k from his first o.r.g.a.s.m gets mixed in with her own arousal, and every single stroke of his tool between her lower lips causes her to arch her back and cutely m.o.a.n.

"Just d-do it already, you bastard," Cassiel w.h.i.n.es.

Her eyes widen when she feels his member not just slide between her lips but begin to push through them. Gripping the bedsheets, her hands form fists as she crumples the sheets up within her palms.

Inch by inch, his c.o.c.k slides into her.

Cassiel cries out once she feels his tip reach her depths, "Fu—"

Serra loops her arms back around Cassiel's neck to bring her face down to meet her own, pressing their lips together once more.

Being penetrated in such an embarrassing position, and then having Serra pull her down for more kissing, is enough to prove that Fenrir isn't the only one around here who doesn't require much work.

Cassiel's entire body convulses above Serra's as she l.e.w.dly m.o.a.ns against Serra's lips.

Serra teases the tip of Cassiel's tongue with her own, allowing her tongue to teasingly venture into Cassiel's mouth, but she pulls it back when Fenrir starts thrusting.

Fenrir has never felt p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e as stimulating as this before. Her hot and wet inner walls tightly conform around his c.o.c.k, gripping onto it and refusing to let go. He feels like her body is trying to milk his tool for all that it has to offer, and given how incredible it feels just being inside of her and barely moving, he doubts that it will take long.

Each of his hands now holds onto her as he speeds up the movement of his h.i.p.s.

Every thrust forward bounces her body above Serra's.

With b.r.e.a.s.ts as large as Cassiel's are, even if he's taking her from behind, he can see them bouncing and swaying every time his h.i.p.s crash into her rear.

Serra squeezes her t.h.i.g.hs together as she watches and listens to the two's mating.

Every grunt and groan she hears from Fenrir makes her want to m.o.a.n out as well.

She takes her hands away from Cassiel once the thrusting begins making kissing too difficult. This allows Cassiel to freely m.o.a.n and cry out in p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e, and lets Serra use her hands for something else.

One hand plays with Cassiel's bouncing b.r.e.a.s.ts while her other hand slips down Cassiel's body until it reaches where Fenrir is penetrating.

Serra rubs around Cassiel's slit until she finds her c.l.i.t. Cassiel looks down at Serra when its found, knowing what Serra's intentions are but not being ready for them.

Cassiel's s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e c.l.i.t is teasingly rubbed and rolled between Serra's fingers as Fenrir continues pounding into her.

"Haa… haa… a-ah! P-please, don't – don't stop, ahh!" Cassiel m.o.a.ns out just before a second o.r.g.a.s.m hits her. Wave after wave of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e courses throughout her being. Her mind temporarily goes blank, allowing herself to fully give in to the p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e and allow her body to ride it out however it wishes to.

She doesn't even realize that she's arching her back and pressing downward so much that she's shoved her b.r.e.a.s.ts right into Serra's face.

Fenrir can't resist c.u.m.m.i.n.g again when he sees the result of his efforts. It helps that her climax causes her walls to grip onto his rod even more tightly than they already were.

If her body wants to milk his c.o.c.k of its c.u.m, that's what it's going to get.

Plunging his tool as deep into her as it can go, Fenrir m.o.a.ns out Cassiel's name as thick ropes of his c.u.m splash into her depths. Cassiel's own p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e is only increased when she feels his hot seed filling her depths.

Cassiel doesn't want to do anything nor think. She just wants to collapse and rest now.

She gets her wish when Fenrir pulls out from her and when Serra slides out from underneath her.

With his c.u.m slowly dribbling out from her core, Cassiel falls onto the bed beneath her and buries her face into the nearest pillow that she can reach.

She does not say nor do anything. All that is visible of her head, aside from her hair, are her reddened ears.

Serra gives one of the ears a quick nip which causes Cassiel to adjust the pillow to completely hide her head in it.

"S.e.x… is awesome," Fenrir says, still on his knees on the bed and panting.

His head is tilted back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Something new that is warm and wet is touching his limpening tool.

He looks down and sees Serra running her tongue along his length from its base to its tip, lapping up any leftover c.u.m and wetness from Cassiel.

His tool throbs and "smacks" her as she cleans him off with her tongue.

She looks up at him with a devious smile.

"My turn," Serra says. She may be acting confident, but he can tell just how nervous she is from her quivering eyes and blushing expression.

Serra lies back on the bed now that she's gotten him hard again. Now that he's focusing his attention solely on her, she finds the situation incredibly more embarrassing than it was just a couple of minutes ago.

She raises her hands up to cover her b.r.e.a.s.ts from his vision and has to force herself to continue looking his way.

Fenrir leans down over her and places a single kiss on top of her p.a.n.t.i.e.s. He can already see her own excitement showing through them.

Then he kisses her crotch. Her h.i.p.s are next, then around her navel, on her ribs, and he finally reaches her c.h.e.s.t. Gently, he pulls her hands away and pins them down to her sides to reveal her petite b.r.e.a.s.ts. She looks almost completely flat when lying down on her back like this. Yet, with how carefully he's looking at them, he can still see their rounded shapes sticking up from her c.h.e.s.t.

Fenrir places a single kiss on her left b.r.e.a.s.t and then one on her right b.r.e.a.s.t. Then he kisses her right n.i.p.p.l.e followed by a kiss on her left one.

"I know they're not as good as—" Serra starts talking but gets interrupted.

"Don't say that, Serra. They're just as perfect as the rest of you is," Fenrir says, leaning farther up now to place a kiss above her b.r.e.a.s.ts, then on her shoulder, her neck, chin, and finally on her lips.

"C-can you call me that nickname?" she asks.

Fenrir uses his own head to nudge hers so that it's on its side, giving him easier access to her ear. "Serra Berra," he whispers against her ear.

They both start giggling from just how non-s.e.xy that nickname is.

Yet, as cutesy as the name may be, it relaxes her.

She slips her p.a.n.t.i.e.s off for him. She doesn't want them getting ruined like what he did to Cassiel's.

"I want to look at your face while you do it," Serra says.

Whatever embarrassment and fl.u.s.terment she felt a moment ago is now felt by Fenrir.

He blushes and averts his eyes.

As much as he wants to refuse, he can't.

"Al-alright," he agrees.

Serra smiles and kisses his cheek.

When Fenrir starts positioning himself between her legs, he presses his tool down against her so that he can see just how deep inside of her he's going to reach. Serra is hardly five feet tall, and Fenrir is halfway to being seven feet tall.

The tip of his length reaches up to her navel with ease.

It's a good thing she has pain disabled.

"Are you ready?" he asks her, pulling his length back so that the tip is aimed directly against her entrance.

"I love you, Ryouta," Serra answers.

He takes that as a yes.

Fenrir slides his length into her.

Serra initially clutches the sheets around her but ends up wrapping her arms around his neck just as she was doing with Cassiel. She wants to touch him; she wants to feel him. She wants to look him right in the eyes as he makes love to her, and she wants him to see the abundance of love that she has for him.

"I love you too, Serra," Fenrir says, pressing his lips down against hers as he penetrates her depths.

Out of curiosity, he looks down at her stomach and can see a bulge caused by his c.o.c.k within her.

As painful as such a thing would be in reality, in-game, it just excites him even more.

Serra grabs him by his chin to bring his eyes back to hers, letting their lips reengage in soft kisses as he begins moving his h.i.p.s back and forth.

Even knowing that she has pain disabled, he's still tempted to ask her if it hurts and if she needs him to slow down.

But, going by the smile on her face and the e.r.o.t.i.c glaze to her eyes, he figures it's alright to get rougher.

Fenrir starts bucking his h.i.p.s downward against her with more force every thrust.

"Ryo-Ryouta," Serra m.o.a.ns against his lips. "I love you, I l-love you," she repeats. Every iteration of her expressed love sounds more e.r.o.t.i.c than the last, l.e.w.d m.o.a.ns and gasps interrupting her words until it becomes too difficult for her to speak.

He wants to prove to her that he loves her back every bit as much as she loves him.

With one hand cradling the back of her head, his other hand holds her by her back to brace her for the increased pace of his thrusts.

Serra tightly wraps her legs around his waist. She knows he isn't going to pull out or go anywhere, but she just wants to be as close as she possibly can be to him. She pulls his entire body closer down to hers. His much larger form is both comforting and arousing to her, and the more of her body that she feels in contact with his own, the greater her p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e is.

Being just as v.i.r.g.i.n as Fenrir and Cassiel were, it takes little for Serra to actually climax in this game where pain isn't a concern. The worst she feels is a bit of numbing inside of her, but the p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e she feels is far greater.

Serra looks directly into his eyes as she o.r.g.a.s.ms.

Seeing this perfect, cute girl underneath him lovingly staring into his eyes as p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e overtakes her body brings Fenrir to his third o.r.g.a.s.m of the session.

They c.u.m together.

With their bodies tightly yet gently held against one another, Fenrir continues thrusting through his o.r.g.a.s.m to pump every last ounce of his c.u.m into her. Her eyes start rolling back from the sheer amount of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e she's experiencing. She doesn't even realize that she's scraping her nails down against his back as he fills her core with his seed.

"I love you… Ryouta," Serra whimpers, struggling to find the strength post-o.r.g.a.s.m to kiss him. "Kiss me," she w.h.i.n.es.

"Anything for you," Fenrir says, leaning his head down and kissing her forehead first which makes her pout, but then she gets what she wants when he places a soft kiss on her lips.

Fenrir pulls out of her and rolls over onto his back between the two girls.

Serra immediately rolls onto her side to cuddle with his left arm while Cassiel sneakily scoots closer to press against his right arm.

That isn't enough for him.

Full of confidence thanks to having made each of his girlfriends climax, he reaches an arm around Cassiel and pulls her closer so that she's leaning up onto his c.h.e.s.t. Then he does the same with Serra.

Both of their heads are resting on his hot, sweaty c.h.e.s.t now.

For just a little bit, until they're all recovered from everything that just happened, he wants to rest here with them.

His hands stroke up and down the sides of the girls. Cassiel squirms and quietly squeaks whenever his fingers stroke over one particularly s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e spot, and Serra arches her back when the same happens to her.

"Hey, Saya," Fenrir thinks.

"Wh-wh-what is it, Onii-chan?" Saya replies.

"How many respawn counters do I have now?"

"Y-you got one…"

"You sound pretty fl.u.s.tered. Enjoy the show?" he teases her.

"Shut up!"

Saya goes silent.

Fenrir looks down at his girls. A kiss is placed on each of their heads before he rests his head against one of the bed's overly-fluffy pillows.

"I could get used to this."