5 Level Ups in one day was really quite good.

3 Levels from the End of Segments reward and 2 Levels from all of the enemies Romulus had taken out plus the Lover’s Will experience. The latter accounted for half a level, so ALL the Raid enemies and 3 bosses had only accounted for 1 ½ levels.

John wasn’t going to complain, it was just an interesting observation.

Level 740 came with a new Class Level. Problem with that was that he had not gotten a chance to clear more Challenges yet, so he would keep it in his back pocket for now. Spending it on random Classes immediately felt like a bit of a waste when he was 1 Perk away from finishing up Space Protector.

John, instead, decided to enjoy his evening the way he usually did: getting smothered by a host of women. Right after returning from the Raid he had, against his will, been pulled into a side room by Salamander and Nathalia.

“You know what you’re supposed to do!” the fire spirit declared.

“Yes, yes,” John sighed.

Before him was a small ring – a depression in the ground covered in a layer of rubber. In it, Salamander and Nathalia glared at each other. The apocalypse elemental grinned from ear to ear, while the dragoness was outwardly annoyed. It was a good kind of annoyance, John knew from experience, the kind that one experienced when they were toooooootally against getting dragged into something.

Just like John was 100% an unwilling participant in handing the two opponents their bottle of oil. “Remember, no bites, scratches, and don’t go for the eyes!” he said sternly, then laughed when both of the fiery women rolled their eyes.

Further witticisms were lost to John. His eyes became too busy watching the two very naked and very well-endowed women squirt oil all over their tits. Both were generous and both needed it. Their huge breasts were each larger than their heads. There was more woman in those chests than some women had to their entire bodies.

The bottles were put aside once the abundance of oil began to drip from their under busts. Soft squelching sounds accompanied it when they spread the oil all over their tits. Red on one side, a caramel shade of brown on the other, both crowned by dark and very sensitive nipples. They knew what they had and they were showing off to him and each other.

Salamander and Nathalia were beings of fire, yet the ripples of their breasts were akin to tidal motions. Squish rolled under their hands like waves. Their sighs were gentle breezes, their flesh a rippling ocean that glistened in the light of the dilated day.

One stray glance to the side, and Nathalia stopped massaging her breasts. She locked onto the bulge in John’s pants instead. “Oy!” Salamander complained, when her opponent began to crawl away. “You owe me a fucking match, granny!”

“I have found something infinitely more enticing than your little challenge,” Nathalia dismissed.

It was against his honour as a referee to take bribes right before the match. It was against his ability as a man that had spent most of the day watching another guy sweat to deny a mature lady like Nathalia anything – especially if that was a wish to make her enormous tits spill all over his groin.

So, his clothes were gone. John barely got a glance of his own dick before it disappeared in the glistening ocean of caramel and warmth. John groaned when she squeezed her tits. She upped the pressure bit by bit until even the lubrication bath she had given her tits could not prevent pleasurable friction. The only thing even remotely hard that John felt were the swollen nipples gliding over his lower torso.

The up and down of Nathalia truly was like an ocean flooding and ebbing with every wave. Back and forth, tirelessly, animated by forces stronger than any tides. ‘I should keep the ocean metaphors for Undine,’ John groaned in his mind. “Oh God, yes,” he gasped.

“Do not pray to some distant god, John, pray to me,” Nathalia told him haughtily.

John smiled. He wasn’t about to do that, but he loved the attitude. “You have my sincerest gratitude, my mate,” he said in a low voice.

Blushing and smirking, Nathalia continued her service.

“Okay, fuck watching more of this!” Salamander stated and got up. Opening his mouth, John suggestively wiggled his tongue at her. That was enough for them to agree on where she belonged in all of this. “Yesssssssss,” she hissed, as soon as her cunt connected with his lips. Plump thighs trembled. He tasted her outer lips, then deeper.

John would have loved to stay in this situation for hours. He would also have loved to make both of them climax at least a couple of times. Sometimes, he was reminded he had limits.

After just a few minutes, John suddenly exploded. The quivering of his cock and the consequent tasting of his seed was enough to send Nathalia over the edge as well. Salamander, however, he had to keep working on for a little while afterwards. He made that his sole task, much to the chagrin of Nathalia.

“You always have more than one load in you,” she complained, right after Salamander had ridden out her own orgasm. She sucked the last bit of semen from her fingers, leaving her breasts coated in a mixture of oil and sexual fluids. “What possible explanation could you have to deny me my pleasure?”

“I think it will be more satisfying after you two did some wrestling.” John would have been fine getting overpowered on his opinion. Either of them could have done it. Neither did. Salamander’s cocky grin was an unspoken challenge. Nathalia growled, pulled a band out of her pocket dimension and tied up her hair.

Nathalia’s wavy hair in a ponytail was an unexpected sight. It was almost enough to make John change his opinion. Almost.

A lot of curves collided. Slick, huge breasts squished together, the two opponents beginning their wrestling match by locking hands and pushing. Nathalia’s eyebrows pulled together, displeased. Salamander’s grin grew in equal measure. The pure strength contest ended when John whistled. Soft vibrations under him came to a stop.

Nathalia was still the stronger of the two, but to bring even half of such power to bear would have ripped the house apart. Salamander was more than a match until the point where John had signalled them to reset. Distance was created, a bit of fresh oil applied to their breasts, and then they went right back at it.

The more the fight continued, the less they could secure a grapple. Initially, all the oil had been spread over their tits and those tits naturally spilled over. John wasn’t even sure if there was any way those two could have wrestled without those enormous bags of hopes and dreams coming into contact with their opponent’s body. There was just too much of them jiggling and squishing about.

John felt the motion in the air twofold. His sense of the element of air noticed the draft first. It was like someone was tugging on cloth he loosely wore. Then, the air brushed over his skin. The woman that had just entered the room tried to keep her footfalls quiet, but failed. She just was not made for stealth missions.

The Gamer kept his gaze forward, choosing not to startle her. Instead, he waited until Gnome knelt down next to him. She wiggled a bit closer, until their shoulders touched. He put his arm around her. Shyly, she put her index fingers together. The season elemental quietly pushed out an, “…Uwuwuwuwu…” while following the escalating wrestling match. By now, both curvaceous women were covered in oil and writhing around each other. “UMU!”

The sound was no doubt louder than Gnome had meant it to be. She froze, fist pump half executed. Nathalia and Salamander also froze, mid-struggle, and looked at the earth spirit. After a second, she resumed moving, cleared her throat, and tried to play over the fact that she was as red in the face as Salamander was all over.

“I-i-i-i--- Me-m-met-“ She was not doing a good job of it.

Salamander glided a bit upwards, to get her mouth out from under Nathalia’s half-clenched thigh. “Press the fucking mental reset button, cuddle rock!”

“I – uhm – uh… Umu!” Gnome pumped her fists again, then sighed with relief.

‘Motivational training or something?’ John wondered. He did not know every last thing his women got up to in their free time.

“So, Metra has just been gushing about you having, uhm… ‘reaching for the stars and strangling them in his grasp like the conquering king he is’…?” Gnome leaned against his shoulder.

“Metra said that?” Nathalia asked and released Salamander from the leglock. This was now more interesting to her than the fight. After rolling onto all fours, the fire spirit followed. On this, they agreed.

“A-and Ehtra was nodding along behind her,” Gnome gave further details.

“No fucking way!” Salamander declared, her tail slapping the ground. “Alright, spill the fucking beans, John, the fuck happened?”

John scratched the back of his head. “Simply put, I realized that Romulus is even stronger than I gave him credit for and-“

“And it invigorated you,” Nathalia finished the sentence for him. He nodded. She showed a slight smile. “As it should. I did not show you passion for nothing.”

“To live is to crave.” Salamander slammed her clenched fist onto her open palm. “To burn bright, one must be willing to give their all.”

“N-not to be like… a spoilsport or anything… but I just want to make sure you’re taking this in proper measure?” Gnome wrapped her arms around the Gamer. “Eagerness is important, but don’t forget patience!”

John chuckled. Way back when he had evolved them to tier 2, both of them had a lesson for him. Gnome had wanted him to learn to approach things from a calm angle, to know that not all problems could be solved quickly. Salamander had wanted him to learn to love the struggle itself, be it combat or anything else, because anything was easier solved when approached with passion. Nathalia had been instrumental in that second lesson.

“I’ve not forgotten,” he assured them both. “I will tread this path with measured steps. One day I will stand as the Apex and I will strive for that day – but I will not live for it.” He placed a kiss on Gnome’s forehead, then smiled at the other two women. “I live for us.”

A deeply aroused hum was the only warning John got, before Nathalia tackled him.

_______________________________________________________________________

Momo stared deadpan at the glass of flavoured mercury in front of her. Waves creased the surface in a rapid rhythm. Two rapid rhythms, on closer inspection. “Okay, so Siena and… Salamander?”

“Nathalia.”

“Nathalia… of course.” The sassy maid rolled her eyes. “So stupid of me, there’s so few women that would screw your brains out after hearing you declare your new and lofty ambition.”

“Statement: it is not a new ambition, it is an update on an established one.” Beatrice passed them by, carrying a laundry basket in front of her. In it were worn shirts, orderly folded. The latest delivery of Gamer-scented sleepwear.

“You know, you prioritize being factually correct over being spiritually correct.”

“Retort: both is possible.”

Momo rolled her eyes, caught the shirt that was thrown at her, and quickly deposited it in her inventory for scent-keeping. Then, she crossed her arms. “Still, can you tell them to maybe go at it a little less…” an orgasmic howl bounced through half the mansion, “…intensely?”

“Trust me, I’m not in charge of either orgy right now.” The body answering was Jake, the nickname given to the Creator Puppet. While the Ambassador Double made a copy that was indistinguishable with all regular senses, and all but the most finely attuned magical ones, the Creator Puppet was form alone. For that reason, it was generally the last choice among his bodies.

The news of his renewed fervour was still spreading through the harem. It had various effects, ranging from Gnome’s mild concern to Nathalia’s incredible horniness. Usually, the former turned into the latter after assurances had been given. Naturally, that led to orgies. Those that weren’t involved fell in two camps: those that were about to become part of the orgy and those that weren’t in the mood.

Rare as it was, even parts of John’s harem sometimes did not feel like having sex. At those times, he did wonder if he could push and prod them to get into the mood. Wonder was where it stayed. To know when to fold them and when to hold back was an integral part of any good dom’s arsenal – and important for any man in general. Demanding was sexy only if applied correctly.

Neither Momo nor Beatrice currently had an interest in sex. One was enjoying a cup of flavoured mercury, the other was doing housework. After delivering John’s worn shirts to the usual drop-off point, the passive maid sat down next to Momo. She pulled out her own e-reader. The Gamer was also tapping through fiction.

There was quiet, until Momo broke it, “So, we probably finish this up tomorrow?”

“Yup,” John answered.

“Unnecessary question.”

“Shush, Bae.” Momo gave her fellow maid a playful kick. “And then we got two weeks until the Nympholympics?”

“About,” John answered.

“Unnecessary question,” Beatrice repeated.

“Ya two are bitches,” Momo drawled.

And they all concentrated on their reading.