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Behind the Mountain - I

They say the mountains cast no judgment.

Whoever thought of such a wild parable? Probably the same loonie who established a town near said mountains, promoting it as a beacon of salvation. No, not that born-again kind of stuff, more like "even monsters are welcome here." And no, not the metaphorical kind of monster, like what you might call a child murderer or sociopath. Like, actual, real monsters.

Eh, monsters was a harsh term too. Dajan lived here his whole life and he never encountered anyone or anything fitting the description of an abomination. In folk tales, they were supposed to be leviathan things with fang-filled mouths and leery red eyes. They were supposed to steal infants at midnight and devour farmhands and maliciously have-a-go at the innocent womenfolk, or something. But in the town of Sacro, they were. . . just people.

Shuddering blue mountains overlooked the town, established, oh, some few odd centuries ago? If you did your history (Dajan didn't), it was founded by a group of travelers providing sanctuary to, well, "the monsters." Said creatures were often exiled and brutally hunted for their startling difference in appearance, so no doubt ancient rumors created horrifying caricatures of them. As it turned out, some people weren't okay with that, and here the town was.

It was very small. Probably a thousand people here at_most,_ and that was preferred. It was enough you could get modern conveniences, but distanced from the rest of the world so as not to draw too much attention. This was a haven for people, but primarily for them, the "Lost."

Wasn't so bad, really. Community emphasis was heavy. Everything was within walking distance. You could have a car, but they were pretty few and far between. It was likely you were on a name-to-name basis with everybody you met. The Lost worked jobs, same as their human counterparts, though their shape and composition had a hand in what they could do (or couldn't). Tradition was ingrained in the culture. Distrust of outsiders was also high, if only because you didn't know what their intention was. Looking at the world, it was easy to see why.

Here, you were meant to belong. People took care of people. You had a place. But also. . . you had a place.

"This is big enough?"

Frail hands handed over a fresh loaf of honey-butter bread wrapped in paper. Dajan took it, paid in kind, and nodded his thanks.

"Oh yeah, no worries Mrs. Chaska," Dajan returned to the elderly women. She gave him a weary smile behind her food stand while Mr. Chaska worked their makeshift kitchen, turning only to acknowledge Dajan.

"She's not getting my sandwich bread."

Mrs. Chaska laughed. "Well, good luck. I put a little _extra_just in case."

Dajan gave his own hearty chuckle. "Thanks." He waived a farewell and continued on, passing other food vendors, heading home.

Smoke Street was a little busier this time of day, given it was the weekend and crowds were out to get their fresh cooked dinners. It was a pretty surreal sight if you weren't from around here. Sure, people were grabbing sizzled kebabs or bowls of fried-rice, but you also had Lost carrying on too. A broad shouldered, reptile-esque creature ordered his favorite ramen. A mysterious figure in bandages savored a donut. A caniform several hands higher than the biggest man got a bag full of bone-tender wings, all while colors and smells and lights danced together in this bizarre entourage of a community.

You "belonged." And that, for Dajan, was kind of the issue. You weren't expected to leave. Sacro was your home, and that was it.

Eck, was he really musing over this again? A bit young to be having an existential crisis, wasn't he? It was hard to shake though. Sacro was a great place, sure, full of a lot of acceptance you'd be hard pressed to find in other places. But god, his whole life? Here? The responsibility didn't help much either.

It didn't take him long to reach said "responsibility," crossing a few streets, bypassing some neighborhoods. His lot here was different, and not exactly one he chose, not directly. Beyond stone gates and an enormous red-wood arch (or a divine gate, someone called it), sitting on a hill of grass, was something like a temple. Like a temple because it was more of a boarding home, though it had similar architecture to places of spiritual worship. Shinto Buddhism, Dajan was told, or close enough.

Well, absolutely zero worship happened within. It was more like "keeping an eye on troublemakers: the house." Dajan was charged with a responsibility of looking after two Lost, and they were handfuls as is.

"I'm home!" he called out as he slid open the foyer doors. No response, as was typical. They were likely busy, which gave him time to stow away his prized sandwich bread.

He wasn't alone. Inhabiting this place were others. Ancient references would tell you they were vicious Yokai, specifically Oni, murderous beasts that roamed mountains and wore tiger skin. Well, they got the mountain part right, sort of.

But vicious, murderous beasts? Hah.

"IS IT HERE!?"

As Dajan waded into the interior, setting down the fresh bread loaf on counter, excited footsteps quickly followed. A youthful, feminine voice it was.

Before Dajan could process, she materialized from the hall. She was about a foot taller than he with a woman's shapely frame. Her flesh was tinted as deep scarlet, two horns adorning a face with wide, gold eyes and pale hair cut into a sort of ponytail. As she moved said hair flowed with an ethereal quality - white, but shimmering with incandescent hues, the vaguest impression of teal upon the strands.

The oni-yokai #1: Ksha.

She clambered towards Dajan, eyes boggling with enthuse. Funny, for a "monster" she sure didn't dress like one. In fact, she was infatuated with trendy pop fashion. Everything from jewels to jackets to pants to graphic tees was in her arsenal. She used words Dajan didn't quite get: something something pastel bubblegum but also goth but also K-pop something something.

"Oh, hey Ksha," said Dajan with a nod. Ksha pushed right through him, gazing at what he'd brought.

She stared. ". . .this isn't it."

Dajan chuckled. "Uh, excuse me, that's very it. Chaska brand honey-butter bread is worth dying for."

Ksha huffed, rubbing her eyes. "Three days."

"Huh?"

"I've been waiting THREE DAYS!" she said, turning on him. "I PAID RUSHED SHIPPING!"

Dajan was clearly on a different page. "What?"

Ksha rolled her eyes in valley-girl fashion. "Oh my URZUM! You'd know if you followed me on YAP! GOD. Pins. My custom enamel PINS. They aren't HERE. Instead it's. . . it's. . . bread!"

Dajan maybe got a handful of that. ". . .I see."

"No you don't, because if you did, they'd be RIGHT HERE."

Ksha shoved her chest forward, prodding at her left breast. Guess that's where the "pins" were supposed to go? Dajan also did his best to ignore her, uh, you know, chest.

"Relax," said Dajan, going to the kitchen and sorting through some ingredients. He pulled out a few items from the fridge, setting them out.

"We're in the mountains, remember? Shipping takes a long time."

Ksha made a face like she'd stepped in something unpleasant. "It was rushed."

Dajan chuckled again. He grabbed the batch of hot bread and got the appropriate knife. "Ksha, c'mon. Didn't you get something in the mail last week?"

"That's not the point," she grumbled, crossing arms. "It's an ensemble. I have a presence to maintain."

By presence, Dajan figured it had something to do with the girl's "Yap" account. That social media thing.

"Patience is a virtue," Dajan offered. She gave him a bored look.

"Patience? Daj. The Congregation of Souls is in two days."

Dajan cut up pieces of the bread, shrugging. Yeah, so? It wasn't like. . . wait what.

"Wait, what?"

Ksha rubbed her head. "Was gonna' get selfies and pics and vids and. . . show everything off and. . . ugh. . ."

Well, shit. The Congregation was a pretty big deal in Sacro. It was an annual thing, a roundabout way of saying "everyone in town gets together and does stuff." Despite Dajan's issues with what he wanted to do (or couldn't), even he knew about it and why attendance was so crucial. Small place. People looked at no-shows as extremely disrespectful.

Also, you had to do something to show thanks to the mountain, or something.

Dajan was silent. Ksha noticed. ". . .you didn't forget, did you?"

"Uh. . ."

Ksha stared. "Daj. God, Urzum, get your shit together, would ya'?"

"Hey, it just got away from me, is all!"

"Do you even know what you're gonna do?"

"I could make a sandwich," he said with a forced smile.

Damn. Not even an oni-yokai like Ksha was letting him get away with a that. "Dude, come on. This is serious. I already know what I'm doing, that's why I wanted the pins."

She sighed. "Well, whatever. Just don't let _Charya_hear this."

And that was oni-yokai #2.

"Where's she?" asked Dajan, switching subjects quickly.

"Backyard. Punching rocks."

Dajan legitimately couldn't tell if she was joking.

Ksha glanced at the bread. "Better hide that, too. Anyway, I'm gonna' go drown my sorrows in some Hibiki. You should get your shit together."

With a brisk turn, Ksha returned to her room. Dajan grumbled, finishing and eating his sandwich, savoring the flavor of warm bread and its gentle tinge of honey-baked sweetness. Still, a measure of guilt soured him. The Congregation was important to people, even to those like Ksha. For the Lost, this was a celebration of a home that accepted and protected them. To forget that was, in a way, to kinda forget them too.

Maybe he was thinking about it too dramatically. Maybe he was just dramatic in general? Maybe the festival would get his mind right, put his priorities back in place. If he "belonged" in Sacro, he wanted to know it. But for now. . .

Punching rocks, was it? Normally Dajan left Charya to her uh, antics, but that sounded particularly disastrous. Making sure to stow the bread away (Charya loved to snack, as it were), he dressed in something more casual and made his way to the backyard.

The backyard had oddities from its temple days. Bad luck to go about removing statues, too, or that was the general insistence. Indeed, great carved stones with old-script were seated in fields of cut grass. Other places were little shrines you could make a prayer too, or pay your respect to the mountain spirits. When you entered the backyard, you did so under a large arch, which according to the original priests was "passing through a divine gate." Dajan wasn't so sure about the divine part, but he respected it.

He didn't see Charya. Rather, he heard her first. A loud 'crack' shook the air, like splintering rock. Dajan followed it, then heard grunts of struggle, familiar ones. Yeah, that was her all right.

Where Ksha was near a foot taller than him, Charya was. . . uh, towering. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. But she was big. She absolutely fit the description of her bloodline, at least in size. When Dajan wandered to the sound's origin, he spied her, "fighting" an enormous stone.

Charya held an interesting complexion. She was as the loveliest Valkyrie with that same shimmering red skin complimenting two large horns. They were much bigger than Ksha's own, while Charya did little to stop the tide of her flowing hair, a sprawl of white reaching down her back. But where she looked delicate at a distance, closer inspection revealed the network of sinewy muscle and chorded definition she hid. One of Dajan's old friends described it as "Amazonian," and he figured that was apt.

Her fist collided with the unmoving rock. Yes, fist. Bare. Ungloved and without protection. The collision sent a gust of air billowing about while she formed another crack in the stone with the mighty blow.

". . .uh. . . Charya?"

Given that she was a large specimen quite capable of turning Dajan's bone into much, he might consider more caution. But that was the fascinating thing. . . he didn't feel endangered her, or Ksha.

Upon hearing him, she swung her frame around and a delighted expression pulled her features. "Daj!"

Dajan coughed. Ah, so she'd gone for the "skimpy robe" attire today. Great.

This was the big challenge (no pun intended) in living with the oni-yokai. To be blunt, they were pretty hot. Charya's form glistened in the sun and he could see the dark, blood red marks and stripes on her frame. Her get-up was a simple white-V covering her front with a thick rope around her waist, and that was about it, ignoring the prayer beads.

Dajan wasn't going to pretend he was a horny youngster that noticed Charya's chest was plump enough it could probably smash his skull in their cleavage. He wasn't going to pretend Charya's hips weren't huge and he thought of her in various positions. He felt that way about Ksha, too. But, shit, he lived with them, and getting all tied into something like that? It just screamed trouble.

"Hey runt!" said Charya, poking his forehead.

Dajan managed a smile. "H-hey. You just out here punching, um, rocks?"

She tilted her head, smiling. "Why not?"

"It doesn't hurt?"

Her head threw back with rumbling laughs. "The stone's the one crying!"

Goddamn.

Dajan also did his best to keep his eyes not staring directly into her heavy chest. He already had that problem with Ksha, who wasn't always prudent. Charya was just "clothing is an afterthought."

"It is one of those like, religious stones, is it?" Dajan cautioned.

"The mountain tears? Of course not!"

By "mountain tears," she meant stones that were taken from the mountain in the earliest days of the town's founding. It wasn't like Dajan thought they were exactly holy in nature, but dishonoring them was considered bad luck. Who needed that?

"Oh. I guess that's better. You think maybe punching stones isn't the best use of time?"

"Hah!" balked Charya. "I'm preparing, making my ancestors proud. The congregation is soon, and I'm here to show my honor!"

Ah, shit, even she was on top of it.

Well of course she is, this place is part of her heritage! You're the weird one here!

Dajan tried to ignore the inner reprisals. Tried. But, damn, it was hard. Everyone had their act together on this, and he was still futzing around? He really needed to 'get his shit together,' as Ksha put it.

"And what about you, Daj?" continued Charya. "You've got something planned too, I bet!"

Dajan responded quickly. "Oh, yeah, you bet."

"Good!"

Charya straightened, her cleavage wobbling as she did. "Well, did you stop by to watch?" she went on.

Dajan, eager to find an escape, shook his head. "Oh, ah, no. No! Just wanted to see if you were hungry for dinner. I'll be making some soon."

-*-

Supper, at least, went well. As evening settled over the town of Sacro, the distant sun cast purple-red hues over the horizon. Since it was the weekend, Daj settled on making food outside, on the large iron cast grill. Charya was quite eager to help and huffed a billow of flames along the charcoal. She also took a massive cleaver and cut hunks of meat into sizeable steaks (all of course in an oni-fitting apron).

Ksha was also helpful. Despite her infatuation with trendiness she was glad to lend a hand, chopping onions and peppers into a useful mince. Daj in the meantime skillet cooked said choppings with a dash of oil, tossing a pinch of salt and pepper over them. Once done, the meat was cooked (rare for the girls, medium rare for him), rice was made, and the veggies were tossed with the meat.

They enjoyed the food outside. "Ahh, meat from the mighty mountain," commented Charya, mashing into her serving.

Ksha, with a more reserved approach, rolled her eyes. "Wow, Char, that's poetic."

"Well, eat like me and you might not fall over in a gentle breeze, stick!" chuckled Charya.

"Stick!?" huffed Ksha. "Bitch, I do squats!"

"Okay, okay," Dajan cut in. "Easy now."

These two were playful, but when oni-yokai got "playful," things caught on fire and property was damaged. He still couldn't walk passed the Masserton yard without getting dirty looks.

Drinks, then. Charya fancied herself a mug of "Yotki," a locally made beer from ingredients right up in the mountain tops. She gulped it down with a great mug, the dribbling liquid rushing down her chin and splashing onto her red cleavage. Daj did his best not to stare.

Ksha noticed, smirking to herself. She on the other hand had another shot of Hibiki, a particularly difficult type of alcohol to acquire given how far out Sacro was. Dajan? Just beer. He was a simple guy when it came to drink.

When they finished, Daj was tired and decided to turn in. Really, though, he was stuck thinking about the festival coming in a few days. He still felt so out of place. Ironically, he was the "lost" one here. Sure, he could do some kind of cop out about how he was thankful for where he lived or living with Charya and Ksha, but it rang hollow in his head.

God, he wasn't even 30 and he was already having an existential crisis.

Grumbling, he checked a few things online like goings on in the world, a few mind-numbing streams, and local news (besides the congregation). By chance, he also checked Ksha's social media account to see what she was up to.

Lots and lots of suggestive shots. His heart skipped a beat and he turned it off. He didn't need to be thinking like that. So, cleaning up, he shuffled into bed and closed his eyes.

-*-

No sleep for him, as it turned out. He'd been staring at his room ceiling for what felt like an eternity. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just settle down? He was always thinking, always lost in the clouds. Restless. He didn't know what he wanted.

. . .yes you do.

A thought wiggled into his mind. No, no. He couldn't think like that. It wasn't appropriate. He was a caretaker, not some horny kid.

But you are.

Fuck. It was hard.

It sure is!

Not only did Dajan feel he had no precise place in Sacro, what he wanted just couldn't be. He imagined it, try as he might to resist. He imagined Ksha and Charya, bathing in the springs. He imagined how their hands rolled across their scarlet frames, running over their hefty, weighty breasts. He thought of their plump asses and how they wiggled at every step and turn. He imagined their lips and their exotic blue tongues.

He tried not to, but it was fruitless.

The girls were feisty, exotic, and alluring. He'd be a fool to claim otherwise. Ksha was like a K-Pop star gone demon and Charya had the exotic warrior appeal of a fighter, among things. He wanted, but he couldn't.

Maybe that was it? If he wanted anything, it was more of _them._But he was supposed to be their friend, not some weirdo deviant. Agh. This was ridiculous! Dajan huffed an angry sigh and shifted. He needed to take care of this, clear the lusty fog from his brain.

So he closed his eyes again.

And. . .

"Need help with that?"

A shrill cry of panic overtook Dajan's chest as he shot right up. At first, he thought there was an intruder. He was right, but not a dangerous one. Right?

Did he seriously not hear her? Her eyes, like gold fire, pierced the room's dark, scanning over Dajan with curious intrigue. It was Ksha.

Dajan performed an awkward series of motions that was a combination of surprise and him trying to hide the stiffy he was sporting. "Hey, what the hell!" he said in hushed tones. "Ksha!? What are you doing in here?"

He threw a blanket over his waist, face going red as that hardon stayed put. Ksha just laughed.

"Probably a favor, by the looks of it."

Those eyes, so visible in the dim room light, were staring at a very specific thing. That is to say, Dajan's crotch. He said nothing.

"Can you just go?" he mumbled. Dammit, he should've taken care of this.

Again, Ksha laughed. "Oh, right, that's really what you want me to do."

She stepped closer, at the edge of his bed. Here, now, Dajan noticed something.

In the dark, there were glowing marks easily visible, like painted patterns of neon. She wasn't wearing anything, save for a high waist jacket that shimmered in the shadows. Oh, it was conveniently hiding her ample chest, but the rest, not so much. Indeed, streaks of bright, glowing blue accented her red flesh, and even her hair - that ghostly white - had a tint of ethereal teal.

"C'mon," she continued, "you're not fooling anyone, Daj.'

"I. . ."

Was this happening? Was he dreaming? He must've been.

"Look, you should. . . uh. . ." Daj choked out. His mind and body fought itself.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"Oho," Ksha said, "I saw how you were lookin' at sis. You like em' big, huh?"

What?

"What!?" he said aloud.

"Ohmigod," Ksha chuckled, pushing fingers into her forehead. "Can you drop the 'innocent' act already, dude? It's not a big deal. Your dick is doing all the talking for you."

Again, he was silent.

"I had a feeling, the way you were staring at dinner. _And_when you got home today."

Here, Ksha pulled open her coat, and her supple front spilled out. She was curvy alright, and her busty front was enough to fill a hand. "You just wanted to go to town, huh?"

She turned. "Or, wait, are you an ass guy? Could never tell. You never talk about what your dick wants to do."

Now, Ksha showed off her bare backside, the wide hips and plump bottom cheeks wobbling into view with the faintest hint of bounciness. As if to tease him further, she'd managed to get a heart shape pattern drawn, the bright blue providing a 'target' for the eager eyes.

"Ksha. . ." Dajan muttered.

"What?" she groused, turning to face him again. "Ya' really pretending you don't want sis, or me? Please. That'd make you a liar. What kinda' shrine guardian is a liar?"

Dajan wanted to say "this isn't right." Though, on what measure? What did he base that on? The pretense of normal relationships? He was friends with oni-yokai, that wasn't a 'normal' thing.

Ksha seemed to pick up on that. "Humans are so weird. Why do you guys always do this song and dance about fucking, anyway? Prooobably have less problems if you just did it."

She leaned forward, her supple breasts wiggling as she did. "C'mon, Daj, you know want me."

"I. . ."

Ksha groaned. "Alright, whatever. At least your cock is honest."

She then proceed to crawl atop the bed and by proximity Dajan, taking his sheets and yanking them off. There, she spied the tent hidden behind briefs, which she quickly yanked aside too. Daj's cock sprang free, wiggling in freedom, where Ksha offered a grin that was nothing but mischief.

Suddenly, Daj's world was changing. He wanted to say stop, but also not. Why would he? Was this really so bad?

. . .well if it was, he didn't want to be right anymore.

"Wait, you can't just. . ." he protested weakly. Ksha responded by opening her mouth and letting tongue hang free, blue and exotic. She neared his tip and laughed.

"You gonna' stop me?"

Dajan said nothing, but it was a resounding "no." It was surreal, and quick. He kept thinking 'was it right,' but maybe that was his problem? Perhaps he should've been more open with these two. No, not perhaps. He realized that now. And all it took was a very forward Ksha to show him.

He watched with astonished fascination as Kasha took her lips to his tip, pursing and kissing the crown with little besses. The act was nothing short of blissful as she mouthed and nursed the tip in her soft oral grasp. She mumbled as she did, staring at Dajan with possessive, domineering eyes. Then, again, she opened her mouth, letting tongue hang free, running it against the inches in slow strokes, sampling every inch for herself.

"Ohmygod," uttered Daj in total disbelief.

"No gods here," Ksha tossed back, "only me."

She continued this by running her tongue against Daj's testes, kissing and suckling each, lapping at them until the stones glistened from her actions. Then, her hand rested on Daj's thigh as she took the inches into her mouth, once again murmuring with satisfaction. She had Daj in her hands, so to speak, and she would in her mouth too.

Her head tossed in slow, rises and falls, each stroke emitting an audible slurp as her glowing tongue wrapped around the shivering length. Dajan was astonished, staring in disbelief - both from what she could do and the fact it was Ksha, of all people. She'd fall until the hilt was completely buried in her throat, then rise again, holding the bellend in her oral chamber, each sending a sensation of electric warmth through Dajan.

She'd go a step further, even, taking her ample front and running Dajan's inches between then. He grunted, tensing. Oh, god, by the mountain, he'd fantasized about touching her bare tits many nights, but to have finally felt them, to finally see her smothering his rod with her scarlet sacs, it was almost too much to bare.

"Mmn," purred Ksha, releasing him momentarily, stroking his soaked length with hand. "Funny, ya' know there were old myths about oni? Wives would say we kidnapped boys to breed them so we could make a bunch of demon soldiers. Ain't that cute?"

"U-uh. . ."

"Tff," Ksha huffed, rolling her eyes, "Dude, come on, trying to flirt here. Humor me."

Dajan could not.

"Whaaatever. . ."

Once more, Ksha took a long stroke of her neon tongue against the inches, savoring how Dajan shuddered at each touch. "Least I can hold this one over Char. . ."

Dajan didn't know what she meant. Not until she shifted position, at least. Now, Ksha had her back to him, waist-high jacket shimmering from window light as her wide ass pushed into view. She rolled Daj's cock between her thick cheeks, the impression of her damp lower mouth stroking him. The very heat of her was enough to make the kid near lose it, here and now, but he managed to resist.

"Whoa, wait, w-what are you doing?" Dajan said in half-heart protested.

". . .Daj. You've got pussy on your dick. Put it together, would ya?"

No fucking way.

"No, you're not dreaming," chimed Ksha. "Oh, and do me a favor."

She pulled out a gold plated smartphone from within her jacket, tossing it to Dajan. "Record this would you? I wanna see how it looks."

Was she being serious? Yeah, of course she was. In a delirious, heated state, Dajan somehow managed to find the record option on the phone as Ksha moved again. She raised her hips, showing off her snatch, the juicy lips glistening from arousal, before - in one smooth motion - descended on his length, engulfing him in soft, fleshy heat.

He cried out, not so much from the initial sensation, but from the realization of it all. He was inside Ksha now, balls deep, and it was hard to hang on. Her fat, soft haunches squished against his thighs while the bright blue heart pattern pierced the dark, lending to the exotic thrill. This was crazy but in all the best ways.

"Ohgod," he grunted like a caveman, keeping the phone framed (or tried to). Ksha also moaned like a siren.

"Mmfuh, that's perfect," she said before tossing her hips in a slow rhythm.

Each toss of her scarlet ass sent the gentlest hint of jiggles through her generous backside. Braving the situation, Dajan reached out with his free hand to grab her hip and hold her while she rode him in reverse, smacking herself on him, the sound echoing throughout the room, mixed with her moans. Her flesh was soft and smooth, just like he imagined, and every stroke of her nether lips filled him with intensifying electric heat.

She was neither too tight or soft, the perfect pressure that suckled his cock yet was smooth enough for perfect momentum. Each bounce was slow, steady, indulging in every nuance of motion. Ksha's eyes rolled and her tongue played free as she hastened herself, tossing her frame on the young male's cock, taking his innocence for her own. As for Dajan? He was literally just along for the ride.

"Oh fuck yes," she cooed, "by fucking Urzum!"

Daj - in his hubris - couldn't help but feel his ego swell. If one of the Lost was calling out to their god then he must've been doing something right!

Oh, but all that building up, inexperience, and attention broke his walls faster than he realized. Dajan had little experience when it came to girls. There was his brief time with a caniform a year back, but that was all, and a young wolfess wasn't like a an oni-yokai.

"F-fuck, Ksha!" he said, buckling, doing his best to recording her fat bouncing ass, but felt his waist rumble and rupture. At once, his seed bolted out, ejecting ropes of white into Ksha's inner walls, forcing her to clamp down and stay still as he hit orgasm, draining into her.

He heaved and panted, heart hammering against his ribs, while Ksha rolled her golden eyes and giggle. "Aw, damn, was just getting good, too."

She shrugged, pulling away from his cock as Dajan collapsed into the bed, staring up. Ksha took back her smartphone and ending the recording, traces of seed dripping down her inner thighs. "Sucks, haha, was gonna let you go in the backdoor too."

She looked him over. "Eh. Maybe next time. You're a real lightweight."

Ksha stepped off the bed, her curvy form only visible thanks to the various glowing marks on her body. "How are you gonna handle sis, anyway?"

Dajan stared at her, weak. "W-w-what?"

Ksha just laughed. "Oh my god, you poor bastard."

The oni-yoki sauntered to his door, swinging her hips in excessive fashion until she reached it, glancing back. "Get some rest. You're _really_gonna need it for the festival."

And then she left.

Dajan had to wonder what the fuck just happened.

Still drained, he pulled his gaze to the window, where the distant silhouette of the ancient mountain was visible. They say it cast no judgment, but for the first time, he felt like he was being watched by it.

What the hell was happening at the congregation, anyway?

He found sleep at some point, somehow, but his dreams were filled with visons of Ksha and Charya as they took turns using him up. He imagined Ksha dancing by the fire, while Charya bounced her enormous ass on him. Whether it was dream or vision, he had no way of knowing.

Guess he'd find out.