Become The Stallion, Young Man!

Kirie's chest rose and fell, his pulse still hammering in his ears as he forced himself to parse the time.

Fifteen minutes down to nine. Six minutes. That's all it took.

Panthera felt like a damn expert.

He barely had a moment to breathe, to recover, to even think. Then—a thick, calloused finger pressed against his still-hard length. Slow. Teasing. Unyielding.

A single swirl around his hypersensitive tip sent a violent tremor through his spine, a helpless moan escaping his lips before he could stop it.

His dazed, overstimulated gaze followed the path of the muscular arm leading back to its owner. Kelly.

Her rear was turned toward him, her face pressed against the tinted window, breath fogging up the glass. Fitted pants were already down to her knees, leaving nothing but a well-toned peach on full display—firm, thick, perfectly sculpted.

A thin, soaked strip of white fabric barely concealed the slick heat between her thighs, a dark patch betraying just how long she had been waiting.

Fluids dripped down her inner thighs, shimmering under the cabin's dim light, leaving a sinful, glistening trail.

She exhaled sharply, the heated sigh pressing through the damp fabric, as if whispering a silent plea. Or rather—a command.

Kirie gulped. Hard. His throat felt dry, his body already moving before his mind caught up. Then—

"My turn, right, Pink Boss?" Her voice was husky, teasing, thick with need. The way she said it—so casual, so confident—made his stomach tighten, his pulse spiking all over again.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Kirie aligned himself, his Panthera-coated length glistening as he pressed against Kelly's entrance—her one true weakness beneath all that muscle.

Then, with a single, powerful thrust, he pierced through. Deep. Spreading. Claiming.

Kelly's eyes flew open—then rolled back instantly, her body arching against the window as an uncontrollable orgasm crashed over her.

A wet, sinful squelch echoed through the cabin, her inner walls convulsing in erratic waves, squeezing, pulsing, milking him on instinct.

It was instant, overwhelming. Like a dam bursting without warning.

Kirie gritted his teeth, bracing himself, but he couldn't slow down. Nine minutes. Scratch that—less. He had to finish, clean up, fix his clothing—or Freda would start asking questions.

Just as he was about to pull himself together, the intercom clicked back on.

"How are you guys holding up?" Freda's voice cut through the heated air like a blade.

Kirie jolted in surprise, his entire body tensing. And that was all it took.

Kelly let out a choked, drunken moan, her walls clamping down like a vice, locking him in place. Tighter. Hotter. Her breath hitched, then left her in a shuddering exhale, her lips curling into a lazy, blissed-out smile.

Like Panthera before her, she too was gifted—directly, intimately, unmistakably.

The thick, heady warmth that spilled into her was unfiltered, potent, soaking deep into her core.

Like a tampon soaked in alcohol—direct, raw, impossible to ignore. And just like that—it hit her like a truck. She didn't even think to stop it, nor wanted to stop it.

"Just peachy, Freda. Nothin' out of the ordinary." Panthera lazily pressed the push-to-talk button, her voice dripping with forced nonchalance.

A pause. Then—

"NEOS, any updates on the camera?" Freda's tone was calm, composed—dangerously so.

The immediate chorus of disapproving beeps and boops from NEOS only made the tension worse.

Kirie stiffened inside Kelly, the warrior shuddering around him, squeezing like she was about to milk him dry just from nerves alone.

Then came the kill shot.

"What is that… wet sound I'm hearing back there?"

Every woman in the backseat froze.

Kelly sucked in a sharp breath, clamping a hand over her mouth, her thighs trembling against Kirie's lap.

Panthera's grip on the intercom twitched.

Kirie, for all his intelligence, was speechless. For a full second, absolute silence. Then—

"Ah, it's just Kirie drinkin' water, don't worry about it." Panthera's voice was too smooth, too confident—too full of shit.

Kirie and Kelly stared at her in disbelief. Panthera stared back at them. Then, salvation.

Kelly, with near-divine reflexes, reached for the thermos sitting beside her, pressing it into Kirie's hands with unspoken urgency.

Without thinking, Kirie uncapped it and took a long, exaggerated sip. A perfect alibi. A perfect excuse to rehydrate.

"I see…" Freda's voice softened, shifting to something genuinely concerned.

"Please make sure to rehydrate frequently, Master Kirie. I do not doubt your stamina given how we train you, but it is best to—"

"Uh-huh, 'preciate it, Freda. He needs to focus on drinkin', talk later."

Panthera rushed out the words, cutting the transmission before the knight's suspicion could grow. The intercom clicked off.

The entire back car was silent.

Then, Kirie let out a slow, exasperated sigh, flashing an apologetic smile. Guilt gnawed at him.

Poor, clueless Freda.

His thoughts would be forcefully taken back to the sensitive Kelly who's been crushing his dick with great pressure within her gummy walls. Unlike Panthera's calculating, greedy vacuum, Kelly's was as straightforward as she was: using pressure and crushing him by sensation to legitimately squeeze out everything left.

And it worked. Her clamp had force-started the peach-sized factories that hung below the thick trunk, condensing sap across his eight inches to prepare for seeding.

Panthera saw them twitch all cutely, using her hand to cup and jostle them around like she's handling big marbles.

"These're still heavy, lil Boss. How much ya got goin' on down here, huh? Gonna turn Kelly into a full mug with yer juice?" She'd invoke the idea into the two of them, Kelly's knuckles turning white as her gasps shift an octave higher.

"Do it, she looks parched." Panthera goaded. He could feel her crafty smile from behind him and the way she gently squeezed his balls. It was working. He wanted to drown Kelly's oppressively addicting insides and mark it as his own. "Give us what we're worth."

That was all that's left before Kirie rams into Kelly's cervix, crushing her womb, bulging her stomach; then ballooning the sacred bowl until she was dripping with hot white honey.

Kelly's eyes rolled back, a dumbfounded smile spreading across her lips as her upper half slid down from the mirror, her body slack with bliss. The shift caused her rear to lift slightly higher, and in the process, Kirie's thick shaft slipped free from her drenched heat, coated in a slick sheen of their mingled arousal.

A sharp gasp left his lips as he slumped between them, chest heaving, his pulse hammering in his ears. His dazed gaze flicked to the dashboard, watching as the car turned a corner.

Five minutes left.

Then—two hands wrapped around his still-twitching, honey-glazed length.

Kirie's breath hitched, and his eyes shot downward, just in time to see Panthera and Kelly pressing their lips to either side of his aching shaft.

Their contrasting tongues moved in perfect sync, licking away every last drop of his spilled release, their sloppy, individualistic movements easily coaxing more of his ambrosia to seep from the tip. The heated suction, the wet, obscene sounds—it was too much.

His fingers dug into the velvet seat, his entire body tensing as his hips twitched involuntarily, betraying just how much more he had left to give.

Then—the intercom crackled to life.

"Heads up, people. Five minutes until we reach Emberlight University. Get ready."

Freda's voice was as crisp and no-nonsense as ever, cutting through the thick haze of lust that filled the cabin.

Kirie stiffened.

The two greedy women at his lap did not.

They merely shot him a sultry look, their tongues languidly teasing his sensitive tip, dipping into the excess skin around the head, taking their sweet time "cleaning" him up.

A sharp, strangled moan slipped past his lips before he could stop it.

"Mnngh…!"

Shit.

"Master Kirie? What is the matter? Are you feeling unwell?"

Freda's concern bled through the intercom, her usual strict tone giving way to something almost gentle.

Kirie sucked in a breath, scrambling for an excuse.

"I-I'm okay, I just—pulled a muscle!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the clear strain in his words. "Kelly a-and Panthera are... hng... helping me...!"

A beat of silence.

Kirie winced. He was terrible at lying.

But technically... it was true.

Freda sighed. "...Just make sure to take care of yourself. We can postpone your first day if neces—"

"I-I'm okay, I swear!" Kirie blurted out, voice an octave too high.

Panthera snickered against his shaft, her tongue flicking out just to tease.

Kirie's stomach clenched.

"It's—haaah... okay, they're... doing a really good job... making sure it's thoroughly loosened up…"

Kelly hummed approvingly against his skin, her grip tightening ever so slightly, as if pleased by the praise.

Panthera, however, was not one to be outdone.

"For… hgk—minimal… r-risk of... injury!"

She mocked his shaky voice around the head of his length, lips curling into a mischievous smirk as she flicked her tongue one last time.

Kirie saw stars. And in that moment, he knew one thing for certain. He was not making it through the next five minutes unscathed.

"...Alright."

There was a faint edge of dissatisfaction in Freda's voice. She wasn't completely convinced, but without visual confirmation, she had no choice but to base her assumptions on sound alone.

"Please take care. I hope the camera gets repaired soon."

The intercom clicked off.

For a moment, silence.

Then—the two hungry women resumed their feast.

Loud. Wet. Obscene.

Their desperate slurping filled the cabin, so intense that Kirie almost worried it might leak through the car's soundproofing.

"Ghkk...! You two... greedy... bodyguards...!" Kirie snapped, a mix of exasperation and barely-restrained pleasure lacing his voice.

His hands instinctively pressed against the back of their heads, forcing their already eager lips even tighter against his glistening, throbbing length. Their tongues worked tirelessly, lapping up his scent, his taste, his essence—coating their faces in the musk of their indulgence.

"B-Be satisfied with this...!"

The moment the words left his lips, his hips bucked forward, the sheer overstimulation tipping him over the edge.

With a strained gasp, he buried himself into Kelly's parted, dazed smile, his tip pressing flush against her tongue before his release spilled forth—thick, hot, unrelenting.

Kelly moaned as her throat worked instinctively, her body shuddering as she took every pulse, every drop that filled her eager stomach.

But Kirie wasn't finished.

With a gasping breath, he pulled free, slick and still pulsing, only to immediately plunge himself into Panthera's waiting mouth.

The redhead barely had time to exhale before her lips were sealed around him, her amber eyes fluttering as she accepted her second helping.

A second, greedy gulp of peach-white honey.

She groaned, swallowing with slow, deliberate satisfaction, as if savoring the way it warmed her throat, her stomach, her very being.

Kirie shuddered, completely spent, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths.

And yet—the look in their eyes told him they weren't satisfied just yet.

Not in the slightest.

"Teehee~! That's as much time as I can give you, girls! Go fix up, we have to get down in three minutes~"

NEOS's playful voice chirped through the cabin as she popped up on the camera feed, her holographic form flickering into view. Her bright, glitching eyes sparkled with mischief, and she winked as she prepared to restore the live feed.

In exactly one minute.

Panic set in.

The three of them scrambled into action, hurried hands grabbing at clothes, wiping away lingering evidence, and straightening out creased fabric.

Kelly adjusted her vest, fingers quickly smoothing down the folds of her polo, while Panthera wiped the last traces of "dessert" from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand.

Kirie, still flushed and disoriented, fumbled with his suspenders, trying to reattach them with shaking fingers. His wrinkled sweater needed urgent smoothing, and he could only pray that there were no lingering stains where they shouldn't be.

If there was anyone who'd be able to notice even the slightest sign of what had transpired in the last seventeen minutes, it'd be the two women sitting at the front.

Freda—the ever-watchful knight.

Mille—the maid who never missed a detail.

Kirie swallowed hard.

They were so screwed.