Collide Gamer

Nathalia strutted past the ravenous pile of licking and scooping cumsluts. “I’ll help him next,” she announced, kneeling down in the compacted dirt. It wasn’t a cushion, but there were certainly worse surfaces for a woman to kneel on as she squished her fat tits around an aching cock.

The touch of Scarlett’s hand had been like a soothing massage. Envelopment by the dragoness’ breasts was more like an adrenaline spike in the middle of an important match. Grunting loud, John thrust up into the valley of her cleavage. Her skin glistened from her recent shower, droplets pearling down into the tunnel between her breasts and mixing with his precum.

“I’m not going to use my tongue,” Nathalia promised the equally aroused and sceptical crowd. “Just spicing up what… ah… my hands can do.”

The tantalizing moans she let out proved that to be dung from the word go. Those huge mounds were so sensitive, he was just one step removed from pounding her pussy. None had the heart to challenge her on it. Watching her tits in motion was just too gorgeous.

The left hand hoisted her breast high, while her right hand simultaneously guided the other’s drop. As one peaked, the other plummeted, creating a constant, shifting friction around his shaft. Nathalia loved this counterpoint rhythm. Despite her frequent tremors, the motion was seamless, a constant up-down-up-down.

Usually, it was John’s point of policy to keep his eyes and mind focused on whoever he was having sex with. ‘Except… this isn’t supposed to be sex, is it?’ he thought, his dom’s mind taking control. ‘This is just the workaround for my inability to masturbate. Nathalia is just my jerk-off aid here.’

It was obviously not the truth, or not enough of the truth to be a proper picture of the situation. Still, holding onto that thought made this even hotter for him. Plus, watching the stage was his previous obligation.

“Gn-nnhmmm—omhhmm…gnome!” Rave called the next woman to the dance. The feline Lightbearer was no longer bothering keeping her hands out of her pants, just fingered herself with reckless abandon. Her eyes darted between the redhead that was clearly getting off from the hot rod between her even hotter tits and the brunette that climbed the stairs with surprising eagerness.

The song began, a slower paced, almost sensuous variation on previous mixes of the same song that had played to every woman’s dance. The base techno had enough wiggle room to change it, yet was so unintrusive that John could let his hearing drown in the simple sound while his world narrowed down to his sight.

Gnome swung her hips in subtle circles. Careful steps let her stay clear of the sources of water, glittering in the technicolour lights. Only the misting spray of the geysers soaked into her shirt, turning it translucent at an ever so slight page.

The determination with which she had stepped onto the stage transitioned to a bashful awareness, then to an exhibitionist's dream. Motions got more enthusiastic, powerful, until the slam of her foot on the stage’s ground added a reverberation to the percussive beat of the sound. She played with the edge of the shirt, flashed John her naked tits, only to pull the shirt taut over her decently-sized mounds. By then, the white fabric was like a translucent glove.

Gnome did not give in to her urges while she was on stage. Half-lidded, she stared into nothing, as she panted in everything but exhaustion. Her balanced figure kept in motion until the final beat faded. She hurried off the stage, as if the song had cut off the courage with it, only to rip the pants off and start ravishing her sopping wet cunt the second she was seated.

“Sylph, you’re next!” Rave whispered into the microphone, only the speakers letting her overpower Gnome’s ecstatic screams.

The volt bunny zapped atop the stage. From the moment she landed there, it was clear that this would be the opposite side of restraint. Pink lightning danced around her, the telltale sign that Sylph was about to go or already was in heat. Truthfully, that she had gone this many days without climax was even more impressive than John’s feat. She usually wasn’t a person to withstand her impulses.

Wherever she had produced the dildo from hardly mattered. Fact was that she smacked its suction-cup bottom down on the edge of the platform to the first beat of the song. She took just a few seconds to jump back to her feet, green hair twirling around her in an individualized vortex, and pushed her pants down. The strand of pussy juice that connected the soaked insides to her lust-swollen lower lips held for an impressive length.

The shapely bottom to Sylph’s petite figure wiggled left-right-left once, matching the beat. She jumped around, wiggled her hips right-left-right, then squatted down. Grabbing the dildo, she grinded her lower body against it, forwards-backwards-forwards. Seeing the toy, modelled after his size as per usual, against her flat stomach really put into perspective how flexible the insides of this woman were. She bounced in front of it. Up-down-up, then aligned her pussy with it – and plunged down.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The chattermouth only had a singular sound on her lips and it was pure ecstasy. Her pussy juices sprayed, her hyper-sensitive body needing nothing but this one penetration to be taken straight to the peak of bliss.

‘Well, the solo peak,’ the Gamer thought proudfully, while drinking in the private show.

Sylph was gone within that first climax. Left behind was a horny bunny hopping to the beat, a subconscious alignment tying her to the rhythm. Her eyes had rolled up. Her mouth was wide open. Her tongue caught jets of water, no doubt thinking they were loads of his cum. Her hand squeezed her tits and rubbed her clit, as she squirted again and again. The pink lightning bounced through the water, adding an electric halo of lust around. It swelled and diminished with the peaks and valleys of her multi-orgasmic journey.

When the song ended, she did not register it at first. She continued to bounce, to scream, to moan, until a sliver of willpower managed to pry control through her heat for just long enough to take her dildo back to another corner of the tent. She attached it to a sturdy pole and continued to thrust her pert ass back against it for the remainder of the ‘contest’.

“H-hailey!” Rave stammered into the microphone. John did not have to see her to know she was desperately fighting against the impulse to have someone’s tongue parting her folds instead of her fingers.

The country gal ran towards the stage, vaulting up the edge without caring for the steps. She had made a light modification to her outfit – the cap had stayed on. Proudly representing Oklahoma, she squeezed tits that a milk cow would have been envious of, and began the show.

Reactivating water displays surrounded her on all sides and she strutted from one side of the display to the other. She was shuffling around, putting a dance to her step as she playfully pushed her upper body into the streams. The depth of her tan lines could have tricked an unknowing man into thinking she was wearing a pale micro bikini at first, though the hard nipples made that a short-lived theory.

She kept her hips low, her gestures wild. She smiled for the crowd, winking at him, at his other girls, biting her lips and wiggling her eyebrows while she teasingly pulled at her waistband. The cap on her head was pulled off, spun around a finger playfully, before returning to its rightful place. She slowly dropped to a squat, legs together until her round ass almost met her heels. They spread open, putting her flexible body on display as she glided back up.

She repeated this once, then turned around for the second time. Every second of her shifting cheeks was utterly entrancing. Back to facing him, she arched her back as she went down, magnetically drawing his eyes to her tits. She did not go up again.

Her hand clutched a light integrated into the edge of the platform. She grabbed it tight, like the only anchor she had while her soft thighs squeezed around her hand. She wasn’t just working her pussy, she was riding an imaginary bull. What began as a show became practical reality, the overpowering spasms sending her body into motion. Head thrown back, spine curved, she let out wilder and wilder screams until she peaked. Her tits jiggled wildly as the rhythmless shudders made her wet hair fly. “All for you, sug’r” she cooed, out of breath, as the music ebbed away.

John beheld her ass as she sashayed off the stage. He glanced down at Nathalia, who was entirely absorbed in her work. Her eyes were totally transfixed on the head of his cock, occasionally peeking from her cleavage. Her mouth was open, her pointy tongue just barely behind her red lips. She drooled into her cleavage constantly, adding an excessive amount of lubrication to his already abundant precum.

“Nahoa,” Rave spoke, clearly for once.

The demigoddess took her time moving up to the middle of the stage. Seeing this clearly tribal woman, with the pale markings on her caramel skin, in a skimpy tee and denim shorts never stopped being a gorgeous mixture of cultures. She grinned widely at him, showing off her sharp teeth. The axolotl frills around her quivered in anticipation.

Nahoa’s dance was different from what John was used to in a way that was also different from what Ehtra’s had been. The rhythmic motions of her entire body belonged in the centre of a drum circle as much as it did on that stage. She was stomping her feet with authority, beating her chest with enough force to scatter the water out of her soaking cloth. Her bottom-heavy shortness was in rapid motion.

For all of the tribal nature of that dance, she mingled in their brand of perversion very well. Casually, she squeezed her nipples and teased her pussy between steps. She measured herself well, edging herself for their mutual pleasure. As the song, in all of its predictable remixes, reached its zenith, so did Nahoa go for a heated finale. Soaked in warm water, her pussy still hidden by the tiny bottoms, she trembled amidst the lightshow. Her head rolled in a full circle, eyes closed, an expression of tranquillity on her face.

It did not stay long. The demigoddess leapt off the stage, landing next to Nathalia. “Dibs!” she declared, waiting impatiently for the moment his second load was splattered all over the redhead’s tits. She would have to wait for a while longer. In his backed up state, he was oddly resilient to a fast release… well, after that first one.

“Siena!” Rave called upon the next haremette. Judging by her voice, she had figured out to time her pauses with the predictable end of each song.

The shadow spirit moved in the shadows, stretching them with strings of moonlight to allow her to jump between them. She emerged at the edge of the stage in her concealed form, a dark-skinned woman with long, straight black hair and an hourglass figure to kill for.

She put herself in the middle and assumed an alluring stance. Cocked hip, resting hand, legs long and emphasized. She was a statue of dark stone, remaining still as the beat picked up and the waterworks around her went into motion. Seconds passed. One, five, ten – Siena remained motionless. Her eyes were closed, her lips spread in a knowing smile. Her inaction was the worst tease for them all.

The beat dropped. Her eyes flipped open. The white of her sclera seemed to flash, an illusion created by the black that followed. Her human disguise was replaced, black mist swirling around her without hiding anything of her now blue form. Her long tail swished, her horns glistened from the moisture they caught, and her silver eyes gleamed brighter than any light she was surrounded by.

Hers was a succubus’ dance. Gyrations of hips, sucking of fingers, loud moans to emphasize the beat as she squeezed her large breasts and smacked her own ass with the spade-shaped tip of her tail. She was a whirl of erotic motion. Nothing was more natural than to finger herself as she did whatever she wanted. Standing, kneeling, squatting, and between every pose she took, she was pleasuring herself and her viewers by proxy.

At the end of the song, she laid on her back, presenting her profile to John. She was moaning, thrusting her hips in the air. The orgasmic shudders no longer matched the beat, but it was fading anyhow. Her climax lasted for a little longer. She cleared the stage only once she was done.

“Nia,” Rave called the next lady up.

The pariah manifested on top of the stage. Music started playing. Like Siena, she was initially motionless, though the difference between an overwhelmed, socially untalented woman and a proverbial semen demon was easily spotted.

When Nia began to move, she did so with her inborn grace. Her skinny form was different from the others. Her long legs lend themselves to light motions. No excessive jiggle was there to her small breasts and aesthetically slender thighs. She was every bit as fluid as the water around her.

Perhaps that was what made the sudden switch to her masturbation that much more of a hit. Had it not been for her attire, she would have been at home in an old European court in one second, then she suddenly channelled all of that grace into her nymphomania. Both hands crammed into the flimsy bit of denim that covered her. Obscenely, her hips thrust forwards. Precarious balance kept her upright, her knees bent, her pussy shoved as much in John’s direction as the difference in elevation allowed.

She just stood there, fingering her cunt and working her clit. There was no stopping herself. Nia did not care about the beat, she did not care about dancing, she just cared about everyone she loved watching her as she scratched this urgent itch. Like all others before her (except Gnome) she came live on stage, to the supportive hollering of the crowd.

“Lydia.”

With the pride of a queen and the strut of a private slut, Lydia climbed onto the stage. Arms behind her back, she waited for the song to start – then went into a wild dance. There was a militaristic facet to it, a jaggedness to her motions that she could not shake. It was all the hotter for this aspect to what otherwise was a smooth and sultry display of rolling hips.

Lydia was not an exhibitionist, except for them. A lustful dusting of red on her stoic features, she sank to her knees, pushing the shorts down her athletic legs. She tilted away from them, landed on her back, and kicked the bothersome bottoms away. Her hips bucked up into the air. For ten solid seconds, the empress of a world power was reduced to spread legs and a wet cunt. Nothing else of her was in view.

In a skilful whirl of motion, she shifted her weight to one side, then suddenly was up on one knee. She was mostly facing away from him, showing off the taut, smooth skin of her back and the pleasing curve of her ass. Her hand continued to rub her cunt to the beat. Her chest trembled in waves to the up and down of the song. Her eyes were closed, shifting beneath the lips. Her red lips moaned loudly, adding the most important layer to the melody.

One orgasm rippled through her form, but it wasn’t the end yet. She rose to her feet, then bent forwards. Through her V-spread legs, he could see her face, upside down and so honest in her depravity. One hand continued to busy itself with working her pussy, the other pushed two digits into her backdoor. The stimulation of her favourite hole drove the naughty royal wild. A guttural scream ripped from her lungs, as a second, altogether more intense orgasm made her collapse back to her knees.

When the song left, it was only her heavy breathing and the wet sound of Nathalia’s tits gliding over John’s manhood for a solid four seconds.

“Brought to my knees by fingering both of my holes in front of my loves… there are worse humiliations,” the queen gasped as she pushed herself up and continued playing with herself as an onlooker.

“Lu Zhi!” Rave called on the next one.

The imperial tomboy dashed past… ‘Oh hey, Daiyu is still here,’ John thought for a moment. The lady-in-waiting was blushing furiously, as was the norm, yet could not take her eyes off the empress that hopped on the stage. ‘I do often wonder, is it just loyalty she feels for her mistress? Probably the horniness thinking.’

The Gamer did not linger on that question. His gaze snapped to the Chinese woman. The remix of the song began with a single, heavy beat. Playfully, Lu Zhi jumped around to it, putting her perfect ass on display. It looked beyond fantastic in the too tiny denims, the majorly exposed cheeks jiggling like sinful jelly.

Another beat, another jump – then a sudden switch in style. The drawn out tones added an oriental note. Lu Zhi smirked, playing along. John had no idea if any of them had heard these remixes before. If they hadn’t, they were chosen so well it did not matter.

It began as a display of martial arts. Lu Zhi executed a number of poses with awe-inspiring slowness. Her legs were vertically split at one point and yet she was in perfect balance. That she chose that exact moment to start working her pussy spoke to a confidence few had and fewer could back up.

Every motion was deliberate. Every circle of her fingers over her clit drew a long moan from her. She kicked up a hose, caught it, and soaked her entire body in an instant. Her petite breasts were clung to, the hard nipples clearly visible through the mesh of translucent fabric. When she whirled around, the green-mark of Tianlong was equally visible on her back. Her round derriere distracted from it nearly instantly.

Lulu, perhaps inspired by Lydia, ended like the fellow royal had begun: on her back, the pants kicked aside, and only her squishy thighs and cunt visible. Until the song ended, she was right there, displaying her claimed backdoor and the virgin cunt that he would claim the night of their own wedding. After one more orgasm, the imperial tomboy vacated the stage.

“Lee – are all our Ls clustered together?” Rave threw in a little joke.

John could only grunt. He was getting closer, though at this rate it would still take a bit. Nathalia was ceaselessly kneading her tits. By now, they were beyond messy, the precum drawing sticky strings between the walls of her cleavage whenever she weaved in a moment of relaxation between the ever-shifting up and down of the massage.

Raising his gaze from his masturbatory aid, he looked up to Lee… doing exactly what he would have expected her to. The brunette wasn’t even waiting for the music to start. She likely had been fingering herself during the entire wait. When the beat began, all that changed was the rhythm that went through her arm.

Bashful yet confident, blushing yet in motion, Lee began an awkward dance. It – was – adorable. She was a woman with thighs that could splatter a water melon, a gamer girl with cat-ear headphones and an abhorrence for anything brighter than dark mode grey, and a living superweapon that could make gods lose control over their own Sanctums.

Here she was, trying to combine Japanese cat poses with rubbing her pussy, wildly failing at the first while succeeding at the latter. Everyone knew where her heart was at. She did not choose to paint over it for long either.

Lee just gave up. A shadow of resignation hushed over her attractive features, to be immediately replaced by the delight of fully giving into her cravings. Drenched in water and yet so thirsty, she stared at John, feasting on him with her eyes as she bent forwards and gracelessly fingered herself until squirting pussy juices added a different kind of wetness to her pants. Powerful shudders pushed the air out of her lungs, made her eyelids flutter.

It had been the best and worst performance so far.

“Eliana – kind of an L?”

The joke landed on ears too horny to appreciate them.

A strange calm was on Eliana’s face as she ascended to the stage. Her remix started quiet, but quickly rose to a loud base so strong John felt it rattle in his bones. The vibrations added to the tit job he was receiving, though he was too mesmerized by the dancing, pretty little psycho to even glance down.

Eliana moved with pure grace. Her hands cut the streams of water, splashing droplets on herself. She took her time with revealing it all to him, all the while stepping and twirling without a moment of doubt or clumsiness.

It was rare to see her so certain in her movements, rare and beautiful. When she suddenly ripped her pants to shreds, it was like being pulled out of a beautiful illusion – only to be basked in an even more beautiful reality. Eliana spread her pussy, her pretty pink insides dripping wet beneath the mark of her womb.

She stopped like that, broad-legged, chest rising and falling, hard nipples rubbing the inside of the translucent shirt. The future mother of his children was borderline panting. She was beyond aroused, every bit as deprived as the rest of them, yet she refused to do more than offer her spread pussy to him. “I already licked your cum off Scarlett. I can wait for the next climax until you fill me up, John,” she spoke over the fading song.

John felt like someone poured liquid heat through his nervous system. It all rushed to his groin, concentrated into a singular point, then reverberated back up through him while the seed spurted from his cock in powerful jets. The knowledge that it was all so close was putting a degree of ecstasy into his mind that wiped out all thought.

By the time the white dots in his sight were starting to fade, his cum was decorating Nathalia’s face and tits. The thick white contrasted nicely with her light brown skin. The dragoness was panting hard, her long tongue exploring the corners of her mouth, tasting all she could and trembling as the enchanted seed added aftershocks to her chain of titfuck orgasms.

Nahoa and Sylph gave her plenty of other reasons to tremble. One had waited for her opportunity to lick his cum off her huge breasts, the other had zapped over when the opportunity presented itself. The short women’s tongues ventured dangerously close to his cock. The need to suck it was written all over their vacant expressions. They just barely controlled themselves.

Nathalia replaced her tits with her hand, stroking his length a couple of times while her chest and then face continued to be cleaned. Once she had massaged the last few drops out, she sucked them off her thumb.

“Thank you for the help,” John sighed.

“My pleasure,” she cooed.

“And you, Eliana.” The pretty little psycho was heading for the staircase, stopping for a moment to look back at him. “Good girl.”

How he loved her for how sincerely she blushed at those two words.