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Serving the Green Gods

A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III movie fanfiction

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by JadeStyx

Author’s Note: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is owned by Mirage Studios. The author does not own this franchise, and makes no profit from this story. Check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teenage\_Mutant\_Ninja\_Turtles\_III for more information on the movie this work is based upon. The events of this story take place about 40 minutes into the film, for those interested in watching the inspiration scene themselves, and then end about an hour in (variations for individual copies and recordings taken into account).

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this hero stuff,” Michelangelo coughed out through the haze of heat and smoke, before he plunged forward through the flames engulfing the village chief’s wooden house. “Here I go!”

To say that today had been strange would be more than an understatement, even for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Transported through time and space to feudal Japan by a magical scepter, caught in the middle of a peasant uprising against their corrupt daimyo, Norinaga, and dealing with the machinations of the Western mercenary and arms dealer, Walker (whose troops, incidentally, had set fire to the peasant village in which the Turtles now found themselves, before retreating when faced with the Turtles’ far greater fighting abilities), the Turtles and April O’Neil were simply doing their best to stay afloat in the midst of interesting times.

But who stayed afloat better than a surfer dude like Michelangelo?

With the beautiful Mitsu, the village chieftain’s daughter and de facto leader of the peasant revolt, watching with her aged father on one side and April O’Neil on the other, tension obvious in their faces and voices as they called out to the orange-masked Turtle, the flames engulfing the house rose higher, smoke billowing upward in great gouts. Nothing could possibly have survived such a conflagration. Nothing, and nobody.

Nobody, that is, but a Turtle.

Finding the door he’d gone in covered in flames, Michelangelo took the only obvious route: through the wall. His body far more sturdy than a human’s, the fire-weakened wood burst outward as he rushed from the flaming building, and hurried to the gathered peasants, the boy he’d risked all to save, Yoshi, cradled limply in his arms.

“Kurt Russell eat your heart out,” Michelangelo coughed as he handed the unconscious boy to Mitsu, his older sister. “I think he’s gonna be okay.”

Stumbling past her, Michelangelo grinned at April as she approached, only barely aware as she asked him how he was, and told him (when he’s assured her he was fine, despite his heavy coughing and smoke-blackened face) that he’d scared her half to death. Passing beyond her, the orange-masked ninja Turtle reunited at last with his brothers, high-fiving them in victory.

But all was not well. No, not at all.

“He has no life in him!” Mitsu suddenly called out, kneeling on the ground as she lay her younger brother gently down.

“Give him to me,” said Leonardo firmly, stepping forward, before his voice softened, and he reached out. “Let me take him, please.”

Lifting the boy as Mitsu and her grandfather, Ji-San, held him out, his brothers keeping the peasants back, giving him room to work, Leonardo pressed his mouth against the boy’s, performing a mystic rite never before seen in the islands of feudal Japan: CPR. Seeing this strange action, Mitsu pressed forward, intent on interfering, but April held her back.

“Let him try,” the auburn-haired young woman almost begged.

“No!” Mitsu protested, suspicion obvious on her face. “He’s casting an evil spell!”

“It’s not an evil spell – he’s helping!” April pleaded, looking first at Mitsu, and then all around, while Leonardo worked with frantic energy.

Then, as Leonardo pumped his hands over the boy’s chest, suddenly, Yoshi coughed, and started to sit up. All around, the peasants gasped, eyes wide in astonishment at the sight of this miraculous healing, respect now shining in their expressions. Now they recognized the Turtles for kami, divine spirits of great power, and deserving of reverence in all things.

“Maybe now they won’t be so afraid of us,” Raphael muttered to Donatello.

Soon after Leonardo handed the still-groggy boy into his anxiously-waiting sister’s arms, everyone in the village looked around, gauging each others’ thoughts. Finding themselves all in accord, they began to bow low to the great turtle kami that had come among them. Much to the bemusement of the Turtles and their friend, April.

“Well,” the purple-masked Turtle quipped back at his red-masked brother, “it’s a start.”

*

That night, in the palace of the corrupt daimyo Norinaga, vile plans were plotted, and Walker schemed for power in this strange country, where gunpowder was an unstoppable weapon, and even basic training in crude black powder rifles was far superior to years spent mastering the way of the warrior.

In time, however, those who worked evil would be brought low. Now that the Turtles had arrived, displacing the daimyo’s honor guard to do it – just as April O’Neil had displaced Kenshin, son of the Daimyo and secret lover of Mitsu – through the magic of the scepter of time, they would surely overpower the threats posed to the village and its people, and save them all from certain destruction. Of this, Ji-San, village headman, was certain, for he knew such as the Turtles, and could recognize their noble hearts and powerful fighting spirits.

That is, as long as they stayed long enough to do so.

The old man was no fool. His cunning and wisdom were why he’d become village headman. Mere minutes after he and everyone in his village had made obeisance to the great Turtle kami “from another time” (their words, and that of their red-haired companion, though he could only barely comprehend their meaning, and not just because of the language barrier), he had set his whole village to work making preparations to receive these divine visitors, to make them welcome. Food was prepared, and the large house at the edge of the village, reserved to house visitors of the highest rank, was cleaned and prepared just for them. Despite the looming conflict with the forces of the Daimyo, a festive air reigned in the village, and the peasants who lived there smiled and laughed and joked again with renewed hope as everyone set themselves to the task of showing respect and honor to the Turtles.

Almost everyone, that is: the headman himself had to carefully hide the scepter of time, the artifact that had brought the Turtles to the mortal world. After all, so long as the Turtles lacked the scepter, they lacked a way to leave before they had saved his people from Daimyo Norinaga. Certainly, it was an act of deception on Ji-San’s part, but one he felt was justified. Though what he did was wrong, he didn’t intend to keep these kami trapped there forever; only until they had done what the gods had obviously sent them to do. Besides, Ji-San also made arrangements, after the scepter was properly hidden, to ensure that his much-honored guests from beyond his world would be properly distracted, and pleasantly so, so that they would hardly miss the time they spent away from their home.

While his command of English was minimal, gleaned from exposure to the gaijin Norinaga had allowed to invade their homeland, at the great feast that night to honor the Turtles, held in the headman’s own home, with the fairest maidens of the village to wait upon the four kami and their human friend, Ji-San had paid close attention to every word that passed between the four brothers and their woman, the one called April. Though he might not have understood everything they said, he knew enough to know that he’d made the right decision: all they wanted to talk about among themselves, it seemed, was the scepter of time. The woman, April, seemed especially vehement about the act of “getting home,” presumably to the higher world of spirits from which the scepter had drawn them.

“Don’t worry, April,” the one called Donatello reassured her with a dismissive wave. “I’ve got it covered. Even if we can’t find the scepter – which I think is pretty unlikely, with everyone in the village helping us out – I can make one. You know how good I am at building things.”

Personally, Ji-San found himself immeasurably grateful right then that the former pirate, Whit, was on hand after this revelation from the purple-masked one. April had a voice that grated on his nerves, and she seemed never to be still…except when Whit was around. While Ji-San couldn’t understand how either of the gaijin could possibly find each other attractive (in his opinion, the Turtles were fairer of face), they seemed quite attached, despite apparently knowing each other for such a short time. He’d overheard April say something about how Whit “reminded her of someone,” along with the words “Casey Jones,” which he presumed to be a name. Presumably, he was the mirror image of someone from her home…wherever that was. Or whenever. Whatever she might think of Whit, however, Ji-San noted with more than a little pleasure that April partook of a little more sake than was probably wise.

While listening himself, Ji-San also made sure that Mitsu, his daughter, paid equally close attention, while she sat next to the one with the orange mask, the one they called Michelangelo. Right away, he’d seen a connection between the two, something he didn’t fully understand, but against which he had no objections. Sensible and pragmatic soul that he was, Ji-San recognized that it wasn’t every day you had the opportunity to have relations with a kami, even if the creature looked more like a kappa than a man. Besides, Mitsu spoke far better English than he did, and so not only could she sway these strangers from afar with her charms, she could observe and report anything of importance to Ji-San. What she did outside of those times she reported, Ji-San had told her quite frankly he did not want to know. He also made sure she understood, however, that, whatever she did for the sake of her village (or for other reasons, should she have them), he would love her as his daughter all the same.

Darkness now fully over the village, Ji-San smiled indulgently at the Turtles as he saw that they’d finished their meals, and feigned covering a yawn, blinking his eyes as though in great tiredness. He turned to his daughter and began to speak, then glanced at the five village girls in formal kimonos and proper white makeup who had served the kami that night, and gave them a nod.

“My father says that you are welcome to the finest house in the village,” Mitsu translated. “I and my handmaidens will escort you there. While I must return to my father’s house after, they will be staying in the servant quarters of your house, ready to serve your needs, whatever they might be. You need only ask, and my handmaidens are more than willing to do all in their power to provide complete satisfaction.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me,” Donatello commented with a grin at Raphael and Michelangelo (he knew better than to trade much banter with the straight-laced Leonardo).

“Like we’re gonna need servants,” Raph answered, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms, his body language making his opinion on such un-macho displays of weakness quite clear (and, in the process, completely missing the naughty expression traded by the serving girls).

“Mmm, yeah,” said Mikey absentmindedly, not even turning toward Donatello, his entire attention instead focused on Mitsu’s face as she spoke, then rose, and bowed respectfully.

“If you will follow me,” she said politely. “We only hope that your chambers during your stay will be acceptable.”

*

“This isn’t acceptable,” April muttered to herself as she looked around the surprisingly spacious room to which she had been led. She, and Whit. “This is anything but acceptable.”

“I’m sorry,” said the British man, putting a gentle hand on April’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. They’ve got different customs here, is all.”

“Yeah, but putting a guy and a girl in the same room?” April replied, glancing over her shoulder at the irritatingly familiar face of the man who looked so eerily like Casey Jones, made even more irritating because of the sake she’d had at dinner. “Even around here, that’s got to mean something. It’s not like they’re lacking for space around here.”

April did have a point there: the house for VIP village visitors was spacious, easily suitable for the use of all but visitors who’d grown accustomed to the true splendor of the far-distant Emperor’s palace. The small estate’s rustic beauty had been carefully tended, its grounds and gardens a sort of shared communal hobby by the entire village. Arranged in a square shape, from a bird’s eye point of view, it had several cubical-shaped apartments at semi-irregular intervals along each “arm” of the square, with a beautiful garden in the middle. Wooden walkways ran along both the inner and outer parts of the square of buildings, besides the interior hallways connecting the rooms inside as well. Despite there being so much space, and so many spare rooms, not only had both she and Whit been given a single room to share, they’d been given one of the side buildings, a place slightly removed from the main complex, apparently intended to give its occupants more privacy from the rest of the household.

“I’m sure they mean well,” Whit consoled April, smiling down at her as she turned to look at him, letting his hand remain where it was. “After all, they did give us two futons.”

“Yeah, I guess,” April conceded reluctantly, looking down from Whit’s too-familiar face, the flush of her cheeks obvious against her delicate Irish-American complexion; if only she hadn’t had so much sake at dinner…but it was the only thing that’d kept her calm around someone who was the spitting image of Casey Jones, the man with whom she’d… “Anyway!” April broke into her own thoughts, turning away from Whit to go to the window of the room looking out onto the garden, beautiful beneath the stars and moon. “Um, I guess, since we’re stuck together for a while, maybe you can tell me a little about yourself?”

“Maybe,” Whit admitted softly, gently slipping his arm around April, while the other arm extended, opening the door next to the window. “But I think you’re a lot more interesting. Tell me about yourself, and where you come from.” As he spoke, he easily guided April toward the door, and out onto one of the little paths that wound subtly through the carefully-tended natural beauty of the inner garden. “I’ve never felt like I really fit into this time. The future might be where I belong.”

“Hardly!” April couldn’t restrain the laugh, then looked up at Whit sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just…well, Casey isn’t the kind of guy who really belongs anywhere. He just sort of fits himself in where he can. I guess he never really grew up. But then, I guess that’s one of the reasons I like him so much.”

“Truly?” Whit led April on, verbally as well as physically, feeling a tremble of warmth inside as he noticed that the beautiful woman from another world didn’t pull away from his touch. “How did you meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“During an apartment fire,” April answered with a light smirk, looking up at the stars. As memories flooded back, she unconsciously let her body sink against Whit’s, not really seeming to mind when he gently brushed his face against her curly hair, taking her scent. Instead, she just talked, and he listened, and occasionally asked her questions to keep her talking.

No, April decided, Whit might look a lot like Casey Jones, but there were some pretty major differences. For one, he was even more charming. Maybe too charming. Unbidden, April wondered for a moment if Whit looked like Casey without his clothes, and was glad for the dark to hide the flush this thought brought to her face.

If only that stupid sake hadn’t tasted so good!

*

“I’m sorry,” Leonardo said sheepishly as he gently set aside the slightly overstretched indoors robe the beautiful, gentle young woman, Sana, had tried to help him put on, assisted by pale-skinned Yui (who, despite Leonardo’s usual sense of tact, he couldn’t help but notice was the most “well-endowed” of the five Japanese girls, something obvious with her tight-fitting kimono), and Jun, who was the youngest, as well as the only one of Mitsu’s handmaidens who had brown hair instead of black. “I guess we Turtles just weren’t meant to wear clothes.”

“Of course, Leonardo-sama,” Sana answered with a low bow, before taking the robe and, with Yui to help her, folding it carefully, and setting it back inside the chest from which she’d gotten it. “It was my mistake. I am terribly sorry not to anticipate your unique needs. After all, you are a kami, and not one of we humans.”

Leonardo had been situated in a room by himself, though he wasn’t far from the room where the girls had put Raphael. Having so much space to himself was a novel experience, but not an unwelcome one: Raphael snored pretty loudly when he was in a new place, or under stress. Right now, this place was really new, in every sort of way. The room was typical of Japanese interior architecture, with lots of mostly empty space that could be easily filled with mobile furniture. That moment, little Jun was unrolling Leonardo’s futon onto a raised tatami mat, which didn’t look like any sort of bed he’d ever slept on. Actually, none of the “furniture” really fit what Leo had grown up to expect from what he’d seen on television and enjoyed in the Turtles’ lair, or in April’s apartment. The only thinga that really fit what he understood about furniture, aside from Splinter’s occasional nick-nacks, were the tables.

“I’m just getting used to everything in this…time, place…you know,” Leonardo explained to the two beautiful women attending him, standing by ready to answer his every wish and desire, while Jun set out pillows and a blanket on the tatami, and otherwise made it suitable for a comfortable night’s sleep. “It’s all kind of new to me.”

“Ah,” Sana said, the word almost just an exhalation, giving a slight bow of understanding…or, rather, what she thought was understanding. “This is your first time, then?”

“Well, yeah,” Leonardo admitted, turning to look at the tatami as Jun turned, still on her knees, and looked up at him, smiling sweetly, her eyes shining with eager expectation. “I mean, I’ve never been on a tatami mat before, but I’m willing to try out new experiences…”

“It is Jun’s first time also,” Sana continued, unperturbed by Leonardo’s hesitant words, or the surprised expression her words brought. “We felt, however, all of us, that it would only be right to offer that first time to a kami. Especially one who brought Yoshi back from the dead.”

“I…wait…” Leonardo stammered, blinking rapidly as what Sana was saying sunk in, its full implications only slowly reaching his mind. “No, you can’t mean what I…um, never mind,” he concluded with a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, I must have lost something in translation.”

“I am so sorry, Leonardo-sama,” Sana continued, stepping forward and kneeling before Leo, followed immediately afterward by Yui and then Jun, who crawled over to settle themselves at his feet, before bowing low, their foreheads almost touching his feet. “I have taken lessons in English from my lady, Mistu, but I am not as expert as she is with the language. But Yui and Jun only understand some English, and are not ready to speak it, so I am left as our speaker. Please forgive me for not being clear to you.”

“No, it was me that misunderstood,” Leonardo reassured the beautiful young woman, reaching down to ever-so-lightly brush his large, thick-fingered hand across her long, thick black hair. “It’s not your fault, just…I was sure you were…”

“We are, of course, at your service,” Sana continued, nodding to Yui and softly muttering a few short words, making the busty woman giggle, and then rise up slightly, so that she could rest her hands on Leonardo’s lower belly scutes. “While Jun is inexperienced, and I admit I have spent more time studying less pleasurable pursuits, Yui is quite expert in everything that we truly hope will satisfy the needs of a kami. And,” she continued, leaning forward to place a soft kiss right on the delicate spot where Leonardo’s hard shell gave way to green inner thigh, “to reward you. We truly want to make you happy, Leonardo-sama. Please, grant us the great honor of pleasing you this night.”

“I don’t need…I mean, you don’t have to…” Leonardo stammered out before his voice suddenly trailed off completely, his eyes widening, his shell quickly starting to feel uncomfortably confining as Yui stood, resting one hand on his shoulder, then gently pressing down. Not resisting, he allowed her and Sana to guide him to sit on the raised tatami, his gaze flicking between the two, and occasionally also to Jun, who watched with eyes almost as wide as his own.

“You do not understand, Leonardo-sama,” Sana continued, smiling happily as she saw Leonardo’s expression when Yui undid the sash of her kimono, and let it slide smoothly to the floor, exposing her smooth, moon-pale skin to the increasingly-aroused Turtle. “We offer ourselves to you because it is what we want. I want you to make love to me because you are a hero who saved the life of my mistress’ brother, as well as a great kami, one of the four who will save our people from our corrupt daimyo, Norinaga.” As she spoke, still on her knees by Leonardo’s side, Sana began to undress, easily shimmying out of her own robe, baring her creamy body to him, though her breasts were partially hidden beneath her long black hair. “Yui wants you for those reasons, but she is also more…adventurous than most girls.” Sana glanced as Yui, and both young women giggled, making Leonardo flush at the unspoken shared joke. “She wants to find out if your member is like a man’s…or a turtle’s.”

If Leonardo were really capable of blushing, his cheeks would have been scarlet at those words. His capacity for speech was essentially gone right then, his throat seizing up as Yui turned to face Sana, then kissed the gentle-eyed woman full on the lips, the small, light pink nipples of her full breasts squeezing against the dark tan nipples of Sana’s somewhat more modest cleavage, her hands brushing Sana’s long hair aside to let Leo better see the action. As Yui’s thigh easily fit itself between Sana’s legs in a smooth, practiced motion she must have done many times, her movements so perfect that she fit Sana’s own thigh between her legs almost before the other woman knew what was happening, Leo let his eyes travel past the pair for a moment, meeting the excited gaze of little Jun. The brown-haired girl was still kneeling on the opposite side of the kissing girls, her sash off, her kimono partially open, enough to expose a little of her lightly tanned skin – just enough to tempt, but not quite enough to reveal anything essential. Seeing that Leonardo was looking at her, Jun blushed and reached up, almost closing her kimono once more, before she bit her lower lip in determination, and moved her hands back to her knees, just sitting and waiting and watching for the time being.

As for Sana and Yui, they were grinding together vigorously now, Sana leaning slightly forward, her breasts bobbing with the energetic movements of her lover, while Yui was leaning back, a confident grin on her face as she worked her hips, bucking them in a wavelike undulation, making Sana’s whole body tremble with the movement, her skin bathed in a sheen of sweat, while Yui placed her hands on the wooden floor behind her, using the contact to help her get more leverage, which in turn allowed her to get more friction going. Looking over at Leo, Yui grinned even more widely, her eyes shining as they traveled downward, toward the Turtle’s proudly erect penis. Obviously impressed as well as excited at the prospects now available to her, Yui said something in Japanese to Sana, who covered her mouth politely as she giggled again, as did Jun.

“She says,” Sana translated, “you are not like a man or a turtle; you are much more like a stallion!”

What Yui had said, of course, was not far wrong: Leonardo, like all the Turtles, was very well-endowed, at least by human standards. Common turtles had to have long penises, so that they could reach from their own shells to the shells of their mates, and the trend had continued into the Turtles, even though the reason for the adaptation was no longer so pressing in their humanoid shapes. Where Yui was wrong, however, was in saying Leonardo’s penis wasn’t like that of a human or a turtle. Truthfully, his penis looked very much like a hybrid between the two, long and thick and smooth and green, like the other limbs that extended from his shell. The head of his penis was capped with a slightly prominent glans, a little thicker than the rest of his member, and just a little darker green in color, though it lacked a corona to really distinguish it from the rest of his length. Watching the two beautiful young women making out right in front of him, hearing the sounds of their moans and soft squeals, and the squelching of their wet lower parts against each other, was more than enough to make Leonardo’s cock come out and say hello. While his testicles were internal, kept almost completely from view, the sheer size of his prick was quite enough to draw attention away from the conspicuous lack beneath its proud length.

Raising her hands, Yui now rested them on Sana’s breasts, lightly pushing on them, while deliberately caressing the other woman’s nipples as she carefully separated. When Sana’s expression turned to disappointment, Yui smiled and leaned in to give her friend a kiss on the cheek, murmuring in her ear as she cast a meaningful look toward Jun, who gasped softly as she looked between the other women, and then to Leonardo…and then down, shyly, at Yui’s next words. All the same, after a moment of hesitation, she nodded, then finally lifted her head, looking straight at Leo one more time, before she said “Hai,” obviously putting a great deal of effort into getting the word out.

“Yui said to me that she thought the great kami – that is you, by the way,” Sana translated as she and Yui crawled over to where Jun was kneeling, deliberately pointing their shapely bottoms back toward Leonardo, letting him watch their buttocks flex and flow as they moved, “might enjoy a virgin sacrifice. She then asked if Jun was willing to fill the role.”

“I know what her answer was,” Leonardo said, swallowing as he pushed aside his teenage nervousness, not letting insecurity control him. “I understood that much.”

“This is good,” Sana continued, she and Yui gently caressing the brown-haired Jun, slowly working her kimono apart, and then sliding it down her body as Jun arched her back, thrusting out her petite chest toward Leonardo, with its light tan nipples perked and erect (and not from the cold) as her almost perfectly smooth body was laid bare before his eyes, all the way down to the delicate dimple at the juncture of her legs. “Then you know that she wants you to do with her as you please. She trusts you completely to make her first time…good.” Sana smiled as she glanced at Leonardo, seeing the hesitation on his face, before she leaned in and kissed Jun on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Leonardo-sama,” she added with a reassuring smile, while Yui grinned wide enough to show her teeth, and winked knowingly. “Yui and I will be more than willing to assist you and Jun. I promise you, we will do everything in our power to provide you – and her – with great pleasure…”

“What,” came a familiar, Brooklyn-accented voice from the doorway of the room, “is goin’ on here?”

Raphael was standing there, his mouth open in astonishment…and his penis at least as erect as Leonardo’s. Apparently he’d been watching for a while before he’d finally managed to find his voice. Yui, with her connoisseur’s eyes, noted that Raphael’s glans was broader than Leonardo’s, a little flatter and more flared at the tip, but his length was slightly shorter, hardly enough to make much difference, but something Yui did not doubt probably caused some rivalry between the two. They were boys, after all, kami or not.

“Ah, Raphael-sama,” Sana greeted Raphael, nodding to Yui as she rose, walking toward Raph, letting her hips sway in dangerous seduction as she approached, the effects of her walk having an immediate effect on both Leonardo from the rear, and Raphael from the front. “I am glad that you came. We were about to reward your brother kami for his heroism.” Her hands went out, and rested on Raphael’s chest, caressing the smooth scutes, fingertips finding and teasing over the many little nicks and scars and dents of prior battles, before she leaned in, and kissed him right at the juncture between shell and neck, making the tough-guy Turtle tremble, words stolen from his lips before they could escape. “I do not think your brother kami would mind sharing,” she added with a worshipful gaze upward, toward Raphael’s eyes, before she leaned in once more, kissing him on the underside of his chin, then on his cheek, and finally nibbling on his lower lip, sucking a little bit of firm green flesh between her own lips.

“C’mon in, Raph,” Leo said with a helpless shrug, before he winced as Yui wrapped her hand around his thick green organ, before guiding Jun’s hand to a position just above her own. “I wasn’t sure if I could handle three at once anyway.”

“Darn straight,” Raph answered with a smirk, wrapping one arm around Sana’s waist, his thick fingers digging into her taut buttocks before he easily lifted her into his strong arms. “Bros gotta stick together, right?”

“Right,” Leo agreed, leaning back on his hands to watch Yui show little Jun the ropes, while Raph carried Sana over to the low wooden table next to the tatami, setting her down on its smooth-polished surface.

“Let’s get this party started,” Raphael exclaimed eagerly as his hands went to Sana’s thighs, smiling confidently up at her, while the wide-eyed woman watched, surprised at how forceful the red-masked Turtle was, especially compared to the relative passivity of the blue-masked one she’d just been seducing. Surprised…but not at all displeased.

*

Donatello didn’t really know where Michelangelo had gone. Mikey had told Don that he wanted to get some snacks, and based on what Donny knew about his brother, he guessed that was probably true. After all, it was pretty late, and Michelangelo had a tendency to get the munchies late at night, especially after they’d had a hard day of real fighting, like this one. Eating helped Michelangelo to relax after he’d worked off his tensions with some hard playtime, usually skateboarding or sewer surfing, and Donatello was usually the one with Michelangelo when he did it, making sure his brother didn’t eat alone.

As for Donatello, right then, he was busily at work figuring out an engineering problem. Due to the lack of indoor plumbing, getting a bath simply wasn’t an easy option around there. Sure, there was a pretty large tub in a side-room, but filling it with water meant bringing buckets from a well just outside. Fortunately, the water could be heated pretty easily thanks to a low stove right there in the bathroom…more or less. Actually, the stove mostly just heated the air in the well-insulated bathroom, or made steam when water was poured onto it, which accomplished much the same purpose, but this did have the same effect of making a bath reasonably warm.

Donatello, he’d spent about fifteen minutes tracking down all the elements of the bath, and figuring out what everything did, and how to make them work. Always one to plan things out before acting, the purple-masked Turtle had just really gotten started working the chunks of quartz laid nearby as firestrikers, after packing the base of the little stove with tinder, when he heard the door of the bathroom open behind him.

Turning around, Donatello blinked as he saw two of Mitsu’s handmaidens standing there. Of course, he knew them by sight, even if he didn’t know their names, since they’d been present at dinner. One was slightly plump, and had short hair, cropped to her neck. She also seemed pretty smart, even showing off that she could speak English a few times. The other was a little taller and more willowy in build, and tied her long hair back in a ponytail, holding it in place with a beautiful wooden comb. Donny remembered that she’d played a funny Japanese stringed instrument, sort of like a three-stringed guitar, at dinner during the last part of the meal, providing background noise to the conversation. What he didn’t understand, however, was why they were both carrying buckets of water.

“Um,” he began, giving the crystals in his hand another hard smack, which made the tinder in the stove start to smoke as the sparks he’d made caught fire, “hi. What’re you doing back here?”

“We saw you going to the bathing room,” the shorter-haired girl answered, walking over to the tub (whose tight-fitting wooden cover Donatello had already removed) and setting down her buckets so as to dump them inside, once by one, the slender girl following suit, both of them obviously happy to set down the weight of the water-filled buckets. “We thought we would help you.”

“Well, um, that’s real nice and all,” Donatello stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, while he fanned the flames with the other, soon getting them sizzling into a decent little blaze, before adding some sticks of wood from the pile already stacked nearby. “But I didn’t want to bother anybody. I mean, it’s just a bath, you know?”

“We are happy to help,” the short-haired girl answered with a smile, while the ponytailed girl smiled in turn, giving Donatello a polite bow before they both started back toward the door, carrying their buckets. “We don’t think it’s good for a man, even a kami man, to bathe alone, anyway.”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Donatello called after the girls, snatching up two more buckets laid next to the tub as he went, probably meant as much for rinsing off bathers as for filling the tub itself. “What’s that you were saying about not bathing alone…?”

*

Some years back, when the Turtles had first fought the Foot clan, and been forced to retreat and lick their wounds at April O’Neil’s old farmhouse in the country, Michelangelo had started to spend time alone, working off his tensions by himself. Of course, when the four brothers had returned and kicked Foot butt, he’d mostly given up the tendency. Mostly. All the same, there were still occasions when he just needed some time to himself. This was one of those times.

While the physiology of a mutant Turtle wasn’t human by any means, it wasn’t that of a turtle either. Michelangelo, like his brothers, had urges and instincts that had been growing steadily as he’d entered the human equivalent of puberty. Had he been a human teen, they would probably have been intolerable, save for the relief offered by nocturnal emissions, in the close confines in which he and his brothers lived beneath the streets of New York. Fortunately for Michelangelo, his reptilian heritage cooled his need somewhat, making it easier for him to endure extended periods between “releases,” but all the same, when the opportunity presented itself, Mikey took advantage.

Right now, Michelangelo’s thoughts were focused on the beautiful Mitsu. Crouched beneath one of the walkways, making his way slowly along, looking for the perfect spot where he could be really and truly alone, Mikey allowed himself to start to fantasize, just a little. Of course, he’d never actually do most of the things he was thinking about, some of it stuff he’d seen in mangas tossed by mothers cleaning out their teenagers’ rooms, but all the same, what was the harm in letting his imagination run a little wild? While he was alone, that is.

Alone? Hmm, maybe not so alone after all. Just as he’d reached almost a perfect central point, a place where he could see almost the whole of the estate, without himself being seen, the orange-masked Turtle arched an eyebrow as he looked out into the dark of the inner garden, his night vision far superior to a human’s.

“And what do we have here?” he murmured softly to himself, though his tone was as cocky as ever, even with its lowered volume. “Well…I guess Casey’d probably be flattered if he ever found out. Not that I’ll be the one to tell him.”

April O’Neil’s curly red head was easy to spot, even in the moonlit darkness of the inner garden. Almost as easy to spot were her somewhat more than significant breasts, which heaved, almost glistening beneath the silver light flooding the garden, as she grit her teeth, fighting back the loud moans that threatened to escape her lips with every passing moment. Beneath her was Whit, the man Mikey couldn’t help but notice was so much like Casey Jones, any more than he could avoid noticing April’s interest in him. Of course, Michelangelo had a crush on April O’Neil – all the Turtles did! – but to see her completely naked, her furry red snatch getting slow-shafted as she ground her hips against the guy beneath her, both of them getting their nasty going on top of a flat stone bench in a traditional Japanese garden…well, yeah, that was pretty hot.

Not needing to look down, his martial arts training having taught him long ago to be aware of every part of his body, Michelangelo wrapped his three-fingered hand around his heavy shaft, all thoughts of Mitsu temporarily forgotten as he moved slightly beneath the raised wooden buildings above, letting him get a better view from the rear, to catch sight of April’s toned, rounded buns bouncing as she started to pick up her speed, and that cock that was the spitting image of Casey’s (though Mikey probably would never admit how he knew that little detail) vanishing into her glistening depths, then appearing again, over and over, Whit’s balls bouncing every time his hips arched to meet April’s. Suddenly, Whit reached up, grabbing tight hold of April’s breasts, mauling them in his strong hands, and April shuddered, unable to keep completely silent as she was wracked with pleasure, her whole body tensing up, while Whit groaned beneath her, his hips starting to buck faster, his own pleasures obviously just about to peak as well.

“Hope you’re on the pill, April,” Mikey whispered, his hand moving faster now, while his other hand caressed the tender spot where his inner thighs disappeared into his shell. “Gonna be hard explaining to Casey how he’s the daddy when he’s…”

Where the sounds April and Whit were making were muffled, restrained as both lovers did their best not to alert anyone to what they were doing, their coupling as illicit as it was passionate, the sounds Mikey suddenly noticed coming from right above him as he came to a stop beneath one of the main building’s bedrooms were anything but muted. Sure, they would’ve been hard for someone outside to hear, but for Michelangelo, they were as clear as if he’d been in the room himself.

Moving his hands upward, Michelangelo gently pushed up one of the floorboards, finding several of them strangely loose with minimal effort. If he’d been thinking about it, Mikey would probably have realized that somebody used those boards for surveillance of the room in question, just like what he was doing right then. Actually, the thought did occur to him, but later. Right then, the teenaged Turtle’s thoughts were pretty much completely focused on what he could see right in front of him: Leo and Raph getting it on with three hot Japanese girls!

The boards Mikey had lifted were right beneath a sort of decorative dresser, apparently intended to hold linens and other such things, with a fine bamboo mesh front that made it quite easy to look through when you were close up (as Michelangelo was), but almost opaque when you were far away. Looking through this mesh, Michelangelo was just glad there wasn’t any glass around, because he knew he’d have steamed it up in seconds.

There was Raphael, the tough guy himself, messily slurping on the cute girl Mikey had seen at dinner, the one with the motherly sort of face, and the really long, ink black hair. Sana, yeah, that was her name, he suddenly recalled, in one of those bursts of clarity that come in the middle of an erotic fantasy. And wow was Raphael giving her the once-over! Of course, Mikey had no idea how long Raph had been working his tongue in and out of the girl Sana, but her smooth skin was bathed in sweat, her eyes were heavy-lidded, and her mouth was gaped open, though she didn’t seem able to get anything out past her lips right then.

Sana’s soundlessness was a sharp contrast to right across the room, where Leonardo was making more than ample time with the two other girls in the room, Yui and Jun. Michelangelo prided himself on being able to keep names and faces straight after only a casual meeting, and he recalled how Yui had been the one who served them all tea, and the one who so quietly and efficiently cleaned up any spills (which were embarrassingly frequent, since the Turtles had some trouble with chopsticks – sometimes three big fingers were a disadvantage), without drawing attention to what she was doing. She also had the most fair and pale skin of the five handmaidens who served Mitsu, a creamy sort of complexion that showed off her emotions really easily if she didn’t keep them under tight reign. That, and she had the biggest breasts, right up there with April’s for size and perfect shape. Right then, her control was pretty much gone, because she was eagerly grinding her slick sex against Leonardo’s mouth, held up mostly by the strength of his powerful hands on her thighs, her own hands resting on his chest scutes as she moaned loudly, wantonly, at what Leonardo’s tongue and surprisingly agile lips were doing to her.

Literally opposite Yui was Jun, the youngest of the handmaidens, easily spotted not just because of her smaller size, but also by her dark brown hair (a rarity in the fairly homogenous genetics of feudal Japan), which were tied into cute twintails. Though she was small, however, she was obviously putting her all into riding every last inch of the thick, green penis that was stuffing her tiny cunny right then. Michelangelo could see a little bit of blood on Leo’s shaft, and knew enough about sex (thanks to Donny fishing an old highschool sex ed textbook out of a dumpster) to know that big bro blue had probably just popped the little cutie’s cherry. He’d head that getting deflowered hurt, but Jun didn’t seem to be in any pain. Quite the opposite! She was lending her voice to the duet with Yui, her higher-pitched tones meshing well with the pale-skinned girl’s more sultry note, her adorable little bottom bouncing as she slapped herself all the way down against Leonardo’s thighs. The girl was a real trooper!

“Oh yeah,” Raphael said suddenly, pulling Michelangelo’s attention away from Leonardo’s fun for a moment. “Let’s get it on!”

Rising to his feet, Raph kept his grip on one of Sana’s legs, lifting it up, his movement encouraging her to roll onto her side. Mikey’s eyes widened as he saw Raph’s big green prick find Sana’s slit, and for a moment he wasn’t quite sure that it’d fit. Turtles did, after all, have a certain size difference with humans. Of course, he’d forgotten how well little Jun had managed to fit Leonardo inside herself, and his fingers convulsed, squeezing the base of his rigid green erection as he saw his red-masked brother’s thick cockhead slowly spread Sana open, before his shaft sank just as slowly into her depths, her raised leg resting against his chest as he worked himself into the human girl, all the way to the hilt, Sana’s other leg extended between Raph’s, letting Mikey see her toes curling as she finally found her voice, her whole body jerking and twitching as she wailed like a cat in heat, muscle spasms going off beneath that smooth skin as she started to cum, and cum with almost violent force.

Penis slick and shining with precum, Michelangelo was still somehow holding himself back, doing all he could to keep the powerful muscles beneath his shell tense, not letting himself cum, not yet. There was still someone he wanted to fantasize about, and until he’d fully experienced the mental picture he wanted to keep in mind as he finally reached orgasm, he wasn’t going to let himself…

As he pulled his head down, replacing the boards, Michelangelo’s resolve was suddenly tested once more, as he turned his attention toward another light, this one from near the outbuilding where he and Donatello were staying. Was that the bath Mikey remembered Mitsu telling them about while showing all the visitors around the place where they’d be spending the night? Why was there a light on, when Mikey knew nobody was supposed to be in the baths that late at night? Letting himself be distracted, allowing him to cool off slightly, Michelangelo crept the short distance that separated him from the window, and lifted himself up to peer inside.

“Oh man,” the orange-masked Turtle whispered, his face spreading into a pleased grin. “Way to go, Donny!”

The tub inside the bathing room actually was only up to a little below waist deep, and that only when you knelt in it. Even through the slight haze of steam in the room, Michelangelo could see through the water, clean and clear from being freshly drawn not that long ago. Leaning back in that water, Donatello, the shyest and most socially awkward of the Turtles, was running his hands up and down the back and firm bottom of Ichika, the girl with the ponytail, squeezing and kneading her supple flesh as she panted hard, like a horse after a long race, her hands on his shoulders. Down below, her bottom lifted out of the water and pointed almost straight at Mikey, so he could clearly see her snugly-clasped and very wet labia, was the short-haired girl, Hana, keeping her mouth busy as she licked up and down Donny’s green prick, cleaning it off every time it slid most of the way out of Ichika’s cunny, then pulling her head back just as her ponytailed friend thrust herself back down on Donatello’s cock, all the way to the hilt.

“I hope you have enough left over for me when you finish,” Hana said with a teasing grin up at Donatello, one hand caressing his inner thigh as she rose up to kiss him on the cheek. “I am far more needy than Ichika!”

Grinning at the look of concern on Donny’s face, Mikey was just settling in to get comfortable and watch when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. It was coming from beneath the main house. Actually, it was coming from the very place that Mikey had just exited. Frowning, Michelangelo knew he couldn’t risk not investigating someone sneaking around in the dark. Someone that wasn’t him, that was.

Swift and quiet, Michelangelo almost glided across the ground, in hot pursuit of whoever it might be that was creeping around in the very places where he’d just been. Then, his eyes widening behind his mask, the Turtle drew up short when he saw who it was silently pushing aside the boards giving a clear view of the room where Raph and Leo were making love to the three handmaidens: it was Mitsu, the chieftain’s daughter!

Like a true ninja, Mitsu was dressed in common earth tones, the simple garb of a peasant, quite a contrast to the fine clothing she’d worn at dinner, but perfect for blending into her present setting. Working his way forward slower now, taking all the care possible not to disturb the pretty girl for whom he’d started to develop a crush almost as bad as the one he had for April, Michelangelo noticed that she’d been wearing a wide-brimmed rain hat, but had discarded it on the ground by her knees so that she could more easily fit her head and upper body through the hole allowing her to watch the goings-on within the bed chamber.

At first, Mikey was going to gently alert Mitsu to his presence, almost naively assuming that she’d like to know she wasn’t alone in her covert observations. Before he could make a sound or movement, however, his attention was drawn toward the central garden, as April groaned loudly at whatever new carnal act she and Whit were doing.

“Yeah,” panted April, much more loudly than Mikey guessed she’d meant to be, “you’re as dirty as Casey, all right. Stick it all in there: you’re slick enough. But…go slow at first.”

How could Michelangelo resist looking? His breath caught, and he had to fight hard not to gasp himself as he saw, clearly illuminated by the bright moon above, as April grabbed her knees, holding them up almost to her shoulders as she lay on her back. Whit, kneeling between her legs, gripped the base of his hefty erection – almost big enough to compete with a Turtle’s – while it still glistened with her juices, and guided it into place…at April’s anus.

“No way,” Michelangelo hissed in awe, before going immediately silent when Mitsu lowered her head from the opening to look around, though her eyes passed right over the Turtle’s dark green body in the dim light. The moment the fear of detection left them both, Michelangelo and Mitsu soon turned their complete attention to the sticky, messy human sex taking place out on the stone bench in the garden. Right before them both, Whit’s swollen, uncut glans (which was another difference Michelangelo noted, since Casey Jones was circumcised, like most American-born boys) was stretching April’s anal ring open, nice and slow, while April bit down on one hand to keep from crying out. Then, suddenly, April and Whit simultaneously gave a short, sharp “Oh,” the sound more a gasp than a word, and his hips lowered on top of her, his bottom tense as he sank right up to his balls in April’s butt.

While Mikey was pretty sure Mitsu couldn’t see anywhere as good as he could in the dark, she obviously could see enough. Right before his eyes, distracting him from Whit’s slow thrusting in and out of April, who was more passive now, letting Whit move at his own pace after her wild ride of earlier in the night, Mitsu’s hands deftly loosened the simple cloth belt around her waist. Almost unconsciously, Michelangelo moved closer to Mitsu, giving him a better view as one of her hands slipped into the waist of her peasant’s trousers. At first, this amounted to a mere flash of creamy pubic skin – Mitsu, unlike almost every other girl Mikey had seen that night, obviously shaved herself smooth – as the beautiful chieftain’s daughter started to rock herself back and forth, slowly at first, keeping time with Whit’s own thrusting. Then, suddenly, with a muffled whimper that she stifled by biting down on the flesh of her hand, just like April had done only a short while before, Mitsu’s hand shot out to one of the support beams thrusting into the ground beneath the manor house above, even as she bent forward, thrusting her trousers-clad bottom almost right in Michelangelo’s face.

At this range, there was no way for Mikey to miss seeing the outline of Mitsu’s hand beneath her pants. Completely forgetting about April and Whit, instead his eyes focused on Mitsu’s rear end, only the space of a foot or two from Mikey’s own achingly erect green penis, dripping copious gooey precum onto the grassy earth by his knees. Then, so suddenly that Mikey only barely grit his teeth in time to stifle his moan, Mitsu forced her trousers down to her knees, laying everything below her waist bare to Michelangelo’s wide eyes.

She was tight. All it took was a glance for Mikey to know that. He took more than a glance, of course. Much more. All the while he was looking, Mitsu’s fingers were almost brutally grinding against her flushed, slick sex, while her beautiful face was contorted with the effort it took to stay silent. Finally, just as April couldn’t hold back a final, orgasmic wail that would surely have woken everyone in the manor, if they weren’t already awake and too busy to notice or care, Mitsu’s eyes locked on the scene of Whit cumming inside April, while April shared in the orgasm, memorizing the scene, searing it into her brain, before she turned her head away, her face tilting upward, toward the light coming through the hole she’d made by moving the boards from the opening to the sleeping chamber where Raph and Leo were making love to Sana, Yui, and Jun.

Almost violently, Mitsu gripped the hem of her shirt, and yanked it off, tossing it right at Michelangelo’s knees, still heedless of his presence, before she thrust her head up through the opening, changing the scene, allowing her to not lose her arousal, but rather to stretch it out for longer, avoiding a too-swift climax.

With Mitsu’s head peeking up through the floorboards, Michelangelo was able to study her shapely young body. All of her body was smooth, flawless, and he guessed she must have had the feudal Japanese version of waxing, so flawless was her skin. Mitsu’s breasts were large enough to make decent handfuls, not as big as April’s, of course, but perfect for her body. Her hips were slim, willowy, while her belly was flat and trim from much physical activity, though not overly muscled. There were clearly-defined dimples just above her heart-shaped buttocks, her perfectly-formed legs the result of extensive riding, running, and climbing among the rocks of her home’s hillier regions. Just looking at her, Michelangelo wanted to touch her, to run his hand across that beautiful, alabaster skin, and feel just how smooth it really was. Almost before he was aware of what he was actually doing, he discovered his hands reaching out to do just that.

Slipping up behind Mitsu, rising up onto his knees, one of his hands touched her back, stroking down its perfect curve, feeling the taut muscles beneath tense at his touch. Before Mitsu’s lips could part for a cry of surprise, Mikey’s other hand covered her mouth, silencing her shout before it began as she realized her precarious position, and her desire to avoid detection. Pulling himself closer to Mitsu, his chest and belly flush with her back, he felt her shiver as she, in turn, felt his surprisingly hot, throbbing erection against the firm swells of her bottom. His head next to hers, they could both look out into the room beyond, and instead of pulling away from Mikey – for he didn’t try to hold her against her will – Mitsu breathed out slowly, then reached back, taking the orange-masked Turtle’s large hands in hers, then guided them to her hips.

Kneeling in that position, vertically spooned together, Mikey’s cock hotdogged right between Mitsu’s smooth white buns, the pair looked out into the room before them. Sana was lying sprawled near the edge of the tatami bed, her beautiful long hair disheveled, cum leaking copiously from her devastated quim – the aftereffects of Raphael’s handiwork. The red-masked Turtle had really done a number on the poor girl! But judging from her expression, a silly smile on her blissed-out face, neither Mikey nor Mitsu figured that she minded. No, not one bit. Jun, at least, had ended up actually on the bed, though she wasn’t much better off than Sana, her cheek resting on the bed, her bottom thrust almost straight into the air as she lay there, doubled over. Leonardo’s handiwork was visible both in the state of her freshly-deflowered vagina, and her equally popped anal cherry, both leaking at least as much as Sana’s demolished slit.

Leonardo and Raphael’s rivalry, it appeared, was still very much in force.

Further evidence of their rivalry was in action near the head of the large bed, where Yui was getting the full brunt of the Turtle boys’ teenage lust from both ends, Leonardo taking her mouth, while Raphael filled her quim. Mitsu’s eyes moved from one thick green erection to the other, and she swallowed, biting her lower lip to stifle a sudden moan of arousal as she realized – fully realized – that what she was seeing in front of her was almost identical to what was squeezed snugly between her cheeks. With that realization came a desire to give pleasure, as well as to take it, and she began to roll her hips, stroking Michelangelo’s rock-hard cock with each movement.

As for Mikey, his body tensed as he felt Mitsu stroking him with her body, even as his eyes fixed on Yui. She was a lot like Mitsu, though her breasts were bigger, something made obvious from the way they were jiggling forward and back, swung like a pendulum by the thrusts of the blue-masked Turtle leader from the front, and the red-masked rebel from the rear. While neither of the teen Turtles was insensitive enough to ignore Yui’s needs completely (made apparent from Leonardo’s pausing long enough to let her breath before his next thrust), they were more focused on each other, on outdoing their rival. Or, more properly, outlasting him. Leonardo and Raphael were both determined to be the last one to cum, and poor Yui was caught in the middle of that rivalry, her whole world starting to reel from orgasm after orgasm rocking her body. Of course, to keep things fair, every so often the pair would switch sides, which did give Yui a few seconds of respite, but also gave the same respite to the Turtles pounding her from either end, meaning that when Leonardo slid into her deeply-flushed cunny, Yui came almost immediately, before her cry of orgasm was just as immediately stifled by the first thrust of Raphael’s cock into her open mouth.

Unable to take the erotic tension any longer, Mitsu began to grind her body faster against Michelangelo’s, then, suddenly, she bent slightly forward, right at the same time she gripped the top of the hole through which both their heads were thrust. Acting instinctively, feeling Mitsu pulling herself up, Mikey helped her, his grip on her waist giving the young Japanese woman the support she needed to get a little more elevation. Just like that, as Mitsu let herself slid back down, Michelangelo’s eyes popped wide open, as did his mouth, as his cock popped right into Mitsu’s gushing cunny.

Whoever won the sex match of the two rivals, neither Michelangelo nor Mitsu would ever know. The moment Mikey’s cockhead tickled her cervix, Mitsu’s already trembling legs gave out from under her, and she sank down onto all-fours, just like she’d seen Yui. Michelangelo dropped to his knees with her, staying right behind, his cock embedded to the hilt as he looked down at Mitsu’s upthrust bottom, his gaze tracing the perfect heart-shaped swells of her buns, then the light flutter of her anal rosebud in time with the beat of her heart, charged with the erotic energy that seemed to permeate the night.

If Mitsu hadn’t turned her head to look back at him at that moment, Mikey would have probably stayed where he was, frozen in place by the rush of sensations and emotions crashing over and through him. But she did look back at him, and her expression, smoldering with desire, coupled with her eager thrust back into his hips, was all it took to make the Turtle’s hands reach up, his fingers sinking firmly into the supple flesh of her buttocks.

Galvanized into action, feeling Mitsu’s need in the tenseness of her body, feeling her muscles bunching, ready to join him in sharing this moment of passion, this night of ultimate pleasure, Michelangelo held nothing back. Beneath his shell, his own gluteal muscles tensed, and the night’s darkness was broken by the soft slap of firm shell against soft feminine flesh as he drew back almost far enough to pop free of Mitsu’s clinging inner walls…then thrust back into her, right to the hilt! That first thrust was all it took for them both to sink into an almost mindless, instinctual, bestial state, letting their mutual needs, pent up and restrained for far too long, run wild and free and desperate. Mitsu wasn’t a passive participant, either – she was thrusting back into each of Mikey’s thrusts, her fingers digging into the rich earth beneath them both, while they scooted forward on the grass with the sheer frenzy of their shared passions.

Looking down, Michelangelo saw his cock as a blur of motion, Mitsu’s bottom bouncing with each slapping thrust against each other, shell-on-skin, her buttocks’ perfect heart shape deforming with each impact. His hands seemed almost profane, gripping such a flawless tush as hers as tightly as they were, but if he didn’t hold on, he might get bucked off, she was so wild, so needy, so desperate for pleasure! So he met her need with his own, leaning over her, his shell against her back, his hips working in short, almost brutal thrusts that would surely leave bruises come the dawn, bruises she welcomed, and encouraged with equal brutality in her answering thrusts. Shell or not, Mikey would be sore in the morning!

Acting on a sudden impulse, Mikey’s hand left Mitsu’s rump, snagging tight hold of her sleek black hair, gripping it right near the roots. Yanking back harder than he’d intended, using his handful like the reins of a wild horse, he made Mitsu’s back arch, her hands suddenly going to her breasts as she rose up, while he fell back, thrusting up into her at an angle, taking the bulk of the work onto himself as he made her entire body shudder with sudden, explosive orgasms, so powerful and intense they stole her voice, which was just as well, for if she’d been able to properly express how the Turtle claiming her was making her feel, she would have brought the house above them crashing down with her screams!

Then it was Mitsu’s turn to take charge, thrusting back with renewed force against Michelangelo’s body, tipping him over onto his back, making him lose his grip on her hair in the process. Her hands going to his thighs, she raked her nails across his thick scales and rigid muscle, making Mikey moan despite himself, his fingers now digging gouges in the earth. At the same time, Mitsu worked her hips, grinding against the man beneath her, her eyes squeezing tightly shut as she continued to fight with all her might and will to just hold on…hold on, just a little bit longer…just a little…

“Kenshin!” she gasped out, the word like the crack of a whip across her frayed nerves. Michelangelo heard the name, but in the heat of the moment its meaning escaped him, even as Mitsu’s inner walls clamped down on his cock, milking him hard and fast. He’d only lasted this long because of all the meditation Master Splinter had made him do back in his home time! And he’d thought it was useless! Now…now it was just too much. With Mitsu cumming on top of him, leaving her slick juices all over his belly scutes, making them glisten, Michelangelo’s hips arched upward, his feet digging into the ground along with his hands, his cock tapping the beautiful young woman’s cervix once more as he, too, came with a short, sharp gasp, his whole body trembling with the power of the pleasure arching through him, as all-encompassing as a bolt of lightning.

Sinking down on top of him, Mitsu cuddled herself instinctively into the crook of Michelangelo’s arm, letting her head rest heavily on his chest. After many long minutes of lying there like that, the Turtle’s hand stroking her back gently, both of them basking in the sweetness of afterglow, Mitsu’ lifted her eyes to meet Michelangelo’s.

“Michelangelo,” she said softly, her expression shy, her eyes almost veiled behind her hair. “What I said…I did not mean…”

“Hey,” Mikey cut her off, smiling reassuringly. “It’s okay.” Then his eyes turned toward the bath house, seeing that its light had gone out, indicating that, even if Donatello was still up with Hana and Ichika, they weren’t in the bath anymore. “C’mon,” he said, turning his eyes back to Mitsu and slowly rising, helping her to rise with him as they climbed out from the crawlspace beneath the manor house. “We’re both a mess. Let’s get a bath.” His fingers went to her mouth, touching her lips ever-so-lightly. “We can talk about stuff in the morning,” he finished, before turning, leading her by the land toward the bath house. A glance toward the stone bench revealed that April had gone elsewhere, and Whit was still lying there, spent and sleeping soundly, so there was no change of detection from that front. A perfect time to keep from being seen.

*

Actually, the reason the bath light was out, and April was nowhere to be seen, was because she’d decided to rinse herself off when she’d used up Whit. He was just like Casey Jones in another way too: he passed out pretty quick and pretty completely after he’d cum. Sometimes April didn’t mind this, actually enjoying snuggling up to the big snoring lug – he was cute, the way he’d always wrap his arms around her and pull her close in his sleep, making her feel safe and warm. But right then, the dregs of the sake still working on her, fueling the fires within, even with two loads of cum inside her, April wasn’t satisfied. Not wanting to disturb Whit, then, she’d risen from the stone bench (after covering him with a handy bit of gardening tarp, which made a decent blanket), and headed toward the bath.

Seeing the light on, April might normally have been a bit more shy about just barging into the smallish outbuilding. But, again, the sake was still working on her, and her body still had an itch that hadn’t quite been scratched. While Michelangelo was making love to Mitsu, both of them watching the fun in the main building, she stepped into the bath house without a care in the world for what she might find…and found that Donatello had been up to quite a lot.

“Way to go Donnie,” April giggled, walking over to the still-steaming bath where the nerdy purple-masked Turtle was trying desperately to cover himself. Ichika was also trying to cover herself, as she’d been sitting on the edge of the bath, retying her hair back into its accustomed ponytail, though her reactions were slower than she’d have liked: after the deep dicking she’d gotten from the very well-endowed kappa in the bath with her friend, Hana, Ichika had a relaxing, warm sensation right in the center of her being, an afterglow unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. With that sort of a feeling, it was hard to react with shame to anything, not when you were feeling so alive and one with all the beautiful things in the universe.

Hana, for her part, didn’t even bother covering up. As soon as she saw the red-haired gaijin woman, the short-haired Japanese girl just grinned as she lay cuddled up under Donatello’s arm, her head resting on his chest scutes, most of her body deeply flushed, and not with embarrassment. Instead, she spread her legs a little, moaning softly as she felt the turtle kami’s seed still within her, and couldn’t help but relish the thought of the exquisite soreness she’d feel in the morning, and for days to come, making it perfectly clear to April just what had happened, and how much the eager young woman had enjoyed every moment of it.

“Uh,” Donatello started, rubbing the back of his head with the hand not resting on Hana’s shoulder. “I’d really like to say this isn’t what it looks like…but you know I’m not that good at lying. So…yeah, it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Under any other set of circumstances, April would have just apologized and backed out the way she’d come, polite and discrete, no harm, no foul. But right now, she was possessed with a feeling of pure, blissful sluttiness. Good liquor and good anal sex tended to do that to her, though whether it was because she had to be in the right mood to enjoy the two in the first place, or because they awakened the urges within her, she wasn’t sure. Normally, April wasn’t interested in other women. Sure, she recognized that some were attractive, and of course she was friends who were girls, but she’d never call herself a lesbian. Now, though, her eyes fixed on cute, shy-looking Ichika, who looked up at April like a deer in headlights as the American girl approached, and April just couldn’t resist.

Donnie and Hana both watched, wide-eyed, their jaws dropping, as April suddenly walked into the room, cupped Ichika’s chin in one hand…and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. With tongue. Ichika stiffened at this unexpected action, but only for a moment. Then her eyes slowly shut, and she began kissing April back.

“Wow,” whispered Donnie, gulping to wet his dry throat as he watched this intense show, then gulped again as April slowly broke the kiss, and turned to look at him with eyes that were predatory. “Um, what’re you planning, April?”

“Well,” she almost purred, her eyes raking up and down the teen Turtle’s body, “I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity. Answer a scientific question, you might say.”

“What…what kinda question?” Donatello got out, doing his best not to stammer as April slid into the bath with him, resting her hands on his inner thighs.

“Is the size of the Turtle related to the size of his weapon?” April replied with a sultry smile, before looking down, and then moving forward, lifting herself up over Donatello’s body. “Mmm, maybe so. Definitely a lot thicker than Raphael.”

“Wait,” Donnie said, blinking as the realization of what April had said, and its full impact, hit him. “You mean, you and Raph…?”

Whatever words Donatello might have been planning to say, they were cut off with a loud moan as April, whimpering and panting loudly – she hadn’t been making her statement up: Donnie was a lot thicker than Raphael – as she sank herself all the way down, until her shapely bum was resting on his groin, right where his sac would have been, if his plums weren’t internal. Without thinking, Donatello’s big hands went to April’s buns, squeezing them tightly, kneading her supple, smooth flesh as she started to bounce on his cock.

Seeing those gorgeous American breasts jiggling before their eyes, Hana and Ichika traded a single look, then moved forward. Immediately, April’s moans grew louder and more intense, as the two Japanese girls started to kiss, lick, and then to suckle on her breasts, and especially her large, dark red nipples, themselves moaning loudly as they positioned themselves over Donnie’s arms, rubbing their glistening pudenda against his biceps.

By the time Mikey and Mitsu were heading toward the bath house themselves, Hana had let out the water, before the four lovers – three human and one Turtle – moved their activities into Donnie’s room, and there they explored all the many ways that they could bring pleasure to each other. April found herself scissoring with the energetic Hana, while Ichika rode her mouth, running her hands through April’s curly red hair as the Western woman licked and sucked on her clitty through orgasm after orgasm. Soon, Donnie recovered enough to rejoin them, and it was Ichika’s turn to return the favor, her tongue flickering over April’s sex with strategic skill, while Donnie pounded her from behind, making her upturned bottom bounce, and Hana happily handled April’s full breasts from behind, squeezing and rolling the rigid nipples until April was sure she’d cum at least once just from the other girl’s touch. Before too long, all three of the girls were side-by-side on all-fours, each crying out loudly in her turn as Donnie plowed into slick quim or snug bung, taking each of them good and hard and rough, just the way they wanted it, before moving to the next girl, until they were all sticky and sweaty and utterly, completely spent.

As she lay next to Donatello, feeling Hana resting her head on her thigh, while Ichika lay on the Turtle’s other side, April smiled to herself, her whole body feeling so stretched in all the best ways. Ways that only Turtles had ever been able to manage properly. Somewhere, off in the distance, she thought she heard someone crying out the name “Kenshin!” in the night. Perhaps the noise was coming from the bath house she’d left only recently. She supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that, for now, she was safe and satisfied.

She just hoped all the Turtles felt the same way. She also hoped none of them got hurt. After all, they were young and inexperienced with the ways of love. So long as everything stayed on the level of this hot and heady fling, there shouldn’t be problems, though. As long as they didn’t try to take anything deeper away from the passions of the night, none of them would be hurt. Or so she hoped.

*

The fight against Norinaga and Walker would begin all too soon, but when the dawn came, the Turtles were all busily engaged in the daily routine of the village…and in disrupting that routine by joining with it. Nothing was said of the night before. Somehow, all of last night’s participants knew that nothing really needed to be said, at least specifically. Instead, their focus was on the present, and on the future.

Mitsu was kneeling at her family’s ancestral shrine, beyond the village, provided with some privacy by a small copse of trees. That was where Michelangelo found her, moving with typical ninja quiet through the trees, before stepping out into the bright sunshine beyond. Coming up behind Mitsu, however, he brushed against some dry branches, and instantly, Mitsu was up, a long tanto whipped out from her robes as she spun and faced him, moving with all the instinctive readiness of someone with both a warrior’s training…and a guilty conscience.

“Sorry,” said Michelangelo, holding up his hands disarmingly. “I, um, guess you wanna be alone right now, huh?”

Mitsu sheathed the weapon and turned away.

“I was asking the gods to protect someone,” she said, looking off at the horizon framed by the arch of the shrine.

“Kenshin?” Michelangelo asked, stepping closer. This time, Mitsu didn’t draw away, nor did she draw her blade. Instead, she looked at Michelangelo’s face, her own questioning, before her expression softened, seeing the sadness in the Turtle’s eyes. “He’s like, your beau, huh?”

“You know him?” she asked, astonished.

“Well…sort of,” Michelangelo admitted. “He kinda went on a cosmic cruise and dropped in on us. But don’t worry – he’ll be back. As soon as we leave. I promise.”

Mitsu frowned slightly.

“How do you know this?”

“Well, uh…,” Mikey thought for a moment. “It’s a kappa kind of thing.”

Mitsu nodded, the movement as subtle as all her expressions, and turned away, her façade as chieftain’s daughter slowly returning to its proper place, the passions of the night before already starting to fade into the past. Just…another episode, lost to time and memory.

“So, uh,” Michelangelo began again, trying desperately to catch hold of those fading strands of connection before they were lost forever, “what’s your sign?”

Mitsu’s only response was a slight exhalation of breath.