BY : c0p13r
Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 2165
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘BLEACH’ nor make money off this fic.


Jackie’s ass bloomed from the tightness of her jeans when she slid them and her panties down. And then she said, “Kutsuzawa, a martini. Two olives.”

Giriko looked up from the glass he was cleaning to the two attendees at the Xcution bar; not his normal guests, but Jackie did visit from time to time from the couch. “Hm…” He eyed the third party behind the two girls. “It was a rough day today, Ichigo-san. But I am confident that you will get a handle on your Fullbring powers.”

Ichigo, however, didn’t respond, his own eyes transfixed elsewhere. Perhaps looking down in shame; he was red enough to look like a boy bested by a girl on the training field, though Giriko was not so gauche as to say so out loud. He would have been more in the know if he had witnessed the exposure of Jackie’s backside and was privy to the bargain struck at the start of today’s match.

“I expect a massage,” she had said bluntly whilst dragging her boots against the murky bottom of the aquarium.

And Ichigo, feeling bold, had agreed. “Only if I don’t win this time.” He had been bested by the Dirty Boots twice now, but he was sure he had figured out her battle techniques.

Stratagems were one thing, but there was no accounting for inhuman speed and strength against one who had once had powers awakened and then had them taken away. He was on his back, panting and sore, in moments. “A massage,” Jackie reminded him, and as he gave his word, she named her terms. He reddened fast… but he was inflexible in his promise.

A seamless arrangement – albeit odd, perverse and provocative – but Ichigo appreciated that it was between them. But they hadn’t counted on Riruka’s ear pressed down on the aquarium, listening to their hushed tones. She might not like to watch, but she would at least listen when the slosh of mud ceased. She of course had an interest to know when the battle was stopped so that she could hurry the hotidiot from the muck and to a shower. Her own fantasies would follow outside the bathroom door. But listening to them, she found an in!

“You think you can just use my dollhouses like some love motels?!” She had jabbed Ichigo constantly in the sternum, humiliating him while Jackie rolled her eyes and simply gestated idly at the side, reflecting on the trouble of this princess-type. Riruka provided a single solution to resolve this mess, slipping herself into the Ichigo/Jackie equation: “I want a massage too.”

So she sat on the stool next to Jackie’s, lined up in front of Ichigo while he trembled and waited to make the plunge. Riruka leered hard and enviously at the cheeks that popped from Jackie’s pants. Not so cute as her little pert cheeks, but she hatefully knew that idiots like Ichigo were tempted to fuller figures. Nonetheless, Riruka made a bid too after Jackie laid out her drink. “Giriko! The usual!” she shouted like a brat, lunging up in her seat just to make a show of her derriere for Ichigo’s consideration. Pink stripes flashed underneath the hem of her skirt.

How do I meet these kinds of women? Ichigo gulped in reverence to his luck, balanced between good or bad. He was hard… very hard! His loins were expectant of the planned activity. But the butler wouldn’t know anything of the goings-on lest he travel around the bar.

The martini was set on a square cloth in front of Jackie, and she plucked one olive from the mixer. What was a dull, unerotic garnish somehow set Ichigo’s veins coursing with heat when Jackie looked back at him with it pressed lightly against the corner of her full lips. She was normally so stoic, yet when she smirked, it was so daring and intense, luring but also dangerous and exciting. Her tongue came out briefly, just to taste the olive, just to show how she could roll over the roundness of it. It put into the mind the image of other round, blunt things she could roll across. That was not the agreement; not when Riruka became involved, at least.

The olive slid away from her mouth, though a trail of spit glinted just briefly; she’d coated the olive just a little, mixing with the martini remnants and the olive oil itself. Ichigo watched the bulb descend as if he was ordered to. His throat flexed. Somehow, he knew where it was going, but hadn’t the willpower to believe it. Sure enough, it went carefully to her butt. She leaned forward, flaring the crack of her ass to expose the tight hole between and also tease the sight of her pussy, but there was no getting there. The olive ran like a salve against her soft pucker; she took to the feeling with nonchalant ease, more enticed watching Ichigo than feeling the lazy circles of the olive oiling her up.

That could not have been enough to make it a tolerable insertion! Ichigo knew that much at least, yet Jackie seemed satisfied with the glisten on her back hole as she moved the olive away.

She didn’t even register Riruka, who had watched the demonstration – perhaps to take notes on how to take it easier – and snobbishly turned away at the end. “Disgusting,” she muttered, and then discretely eyed the remaining olive in the martini glass.

‘The usual’ that Riruka had ordered would busy Giriko for a good while; long enough for Riruka to figure things out, at least. Jackie had already gained the upper hand with exposure, posture, and the foresight not to wear underwear. Skank,Riruka thought jealously. But there was no denying the lusty look in Ichigo’s eye, or the rising of the front of his pants. It’d be out soon, she realized with a shy blush. Once again, she looked at the leftover olive.

“You don’t have much time. You should hurry,” Jackie told the teen standing erect behind her.

Ichigo ground his teeth, keeping them from chattering. He cussed under his breath, inhaled sharply, and then took down his zipper, undid his fly, and brought out his thick and steady cock. Jackie’s eyes widened a little, her slight smirk widening in expectancy at the phallus reaching toward her. Next to her, Riruka’s lips formed a long, tight line across her face, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints as she estimated the size of his massive cock against the size of her cute, little asshole. Never mind her asshole, even Jackie’s fuckable rear end looked impossible to breach with that thing!

Yet all the same, when he took a step toward her, Jackie reached back, grabbed his stiff prick, and wedged it between her butt cheeks. “Just take it slow,” she advised him.

Ichigo grunted. The fluids she had applied there certainly made her smooth, and his precum did help a little as well. Bumping into her center tested and found there was agreeable pliability; he didn’t mean to mentally visualize it, but he imagined that she’d actually be able to take him in… if he tried.

“Hurry,” she suggested nonchalantly, turning to her drink and lazily turning the naked toothpick in circles. “Kutsuzawa’s back won’t be turned for long.”

“Gk!” Ichigo’s eyes flashed over the counter. It was true, the butler had his own, refined pace of doing things, and Riruka’s ‘usual’ seemed to include an even-more tempered process. Ichigo hated that he was even present, but Jackie insisted and Riruka refused to back down. “A-alright…” He braced himself and took down that gulp of uncertainty.

Jackie smiled in satisfaction, wincing only when Ichigo’s cockhead pressed against her asshole. She leaned forward, bracing on her forearms, and lifting off the barstool just slightly to give Ichigo the edge to penetrate. His hands loaded onto her broad hips, raising her typical brown top a little to clasp her smooth, warm flesh. Carefully, his hips moved forward, gaining ground against her tight anus. More and more, he amassed pressure against her. Jackie had been completely silent until his dick punched in. “Uhn…!” She jolted a little, her hair swaying around her face.

Ichigo pressed forward, his hands sliding around, residing just under her navel, bunching up her shirt. But he’s keeping subtle, Jackie thought idly. He doesn’t want Kutsuzawa to notice. It was harder to keep her thoughts straight when the shaft began to rub within her asshole. She hadn’t had a man since Xcution, and took it in the ass only with toys and fingers as of late, so Ichigo’s run up her ass was slow and hitched and almost painful if the taboo pleasure hadn’t burned so wonderfully.

But she also felt his hands twitch at her stomach. He wanted to fill them with the more copious flesh of her chest. He was disciplined, she consented, or else he would have risked their play. However, her skin was smooth and his hands settled on her lower belly, tickling absently against her navel. His breath remained ragged, on the other hand; hot and heavy against the back of her neck.

Her pussy, bald and blooming, salivated underneath the occupied hole. His presence pressured the lining between the two channels, which developed a sense of unfulfillment and desire. Her loins ached, though her lust was met to satisfaction. She leaned into the crotch of her pants, chewing her plump bottom lip as she tried to rouse her clitoris. When Ichigo bumped against her – on instinct rather than volition – her whole body jerked, and her elbows made a reckoning thump!when they braced on the counter.

Of course, that called the attention of the bar attendant. As perfectionist as Riruka was, her tea could wait a moment while he tended to the noise. Jackie-san, who was normally so composed when seated at his counter, seemed disheveled and distressed but for that sinful grin on her face. Her fingers combed halfway into her hair and then stayed put, blocking her eyes with her palm. A perspiration had broken out across her face; she even seemed flushed, though the temperature was pleasantly brisk. Upon closer inspection, Giriko noticed the quake of her body.

“Is there something wrong, Jackie-san? There have been no changes to the martini, as you like it.”

“It’s fine,” Jackie answered back, her voice heavy. She inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, and her composure was reigned in. She smoothed her lovely locks in place. “It’s just a term of defeat.”

Giriko blinked with intrigue. “Oh?”

“If I were to win,” she pointed to Ichigo with her thumb, nonchalant to his matching complexion, “he’s to give a massage to the winner.”

Ichigo trembled behind her. How could she be so calm and bring him into the conversation, all while his dick was stuck up her ass? It resonated in his core and made him want to actually fuck her. She would not be so blasé if they were one-on-one. Fullbring or not, he liked to think that he was very proficient at bringing a girl to climax, as Tatsuki was not one to feign and Inoue was not one to lie – least of all together.

“That’s right!”

Both Jackie and Ichigo, Giriko as well, turned immediately to Jackie’s right when two hands slapped down on the bar, the second attendee risen from her seat. “And it’s my Dollhouse being used and messed up! So he owes me one too!” Riruka’s lips tightened, her face much redder than Ichigo’s, though her big eyes were ultimately determined underneath the glimmer of uncertainty. “It’s a lot of stress, having to put up with this dolt! And he thinks he can just ignore me?!” She shot Ichigo an accusatory stare, swift and hesitant at once. She murmured behind her lips, as if waiting for him to say something. Instead, she swung back to the butler and pointed fiercely. “Now don’t let my tea burn, Giriko! Get to it!”

Giriko paused, as if collecting the information bit by bit and sorting through it by his own design. He then nodded and said, “As you wish, Riruka-san.” The way the tea was prepped, it was all about adding the herbs and the cream at particular intervals. It made the tea not taste sweeter, but Riruka insisted that it made it… cuter.

Settled back in her seat, Riruka sighed in relief. She didn’t want that one-eyed idiot poking around and spoiling… whatever this was. Was it fun? If so, why was she a wreck of nerves? Fun was relaxing!

“That was a good show.”

Riruka whipped to her left, stiffening her bottom lip and glaring at Jackie. The buxom beauty had stiffened her legs, locking them into the barstool to absorb the subtle and strong thrusts of Ichigo’s cock. Riruka tried not to look, just huffing and turning away.

“He’s really big, you know. Can you… mm!... handle that?”

“Of course,” lied Riruka, acting stuck up and casual about the whole thing. Truthfully, she was anxious, waiting her turn to bow across the counter and let this sexy idiot pound his way up her ass. Heck, was he even interestedin her?! He didn’t even notice her proud little display, rising up from her seat to show off that she’d gotten her panties down and had wettened the tiny designation of his penis, following Jackie’s example by using an olive stolen from Jackie’s martini. How long would it stay wet anyway? She didn’t want Ichigo’s… big thing to go up there raw! Why did he even have such a big and bulky one?! It stunned and cowed her, sure, but she might’ve been more wooed if it was smaller and therefore cuter!

“Ichigo,” she heard Jackie whisper, and then looked sidelong out of curiosity. She did not like how Jackie’s hand reached back and tangled in his spiky orange hair, posing like lustful lovers. “You should give Riruka a try, before she gets too scared.”

Ichigo and Riruka simultaneously gulped and exchanged glances. It was as if Jackie had plucked the concern from Riruka’s mind! The pigtailed girl swiftly turned away, shy and sitting stiffly as she could, unable to fake her easy participation.

“Are… are you sure?” Ichigo glanced down to where his cock spread Jackie’s asshole wide, and she nodded and said, “Just be sure to come back.”

Riruka could not look away; not completely or fully committed, at least. She faced forward like a stern statue, but her gaze was beckoned back time and again when Ichigo’s cock evacuated Jackie’s bowels, like a sword coming from a sheath too small only to choose a smaller venue.

Cautiously and quickly, Ichigo sidestepped to his place behind Riruka, and she now had nowhere to look back forward. She whimpered a little, twitched a bit more, and waited. And then the hem of her skirt was moved up, over her cute butt to discover the absence of panties and the application of liquids drenching her anus. She had retched a little when she had touched the olive – a very uncute seed – against her soft pucker, but Jackie had made it seem necessary. So she rolled its moisture along her skin until she felt satisfied and wet, and unlike Jackie, when she was done with it, she let it drop to the floor.

That swollen head of his came against her with such suddenness that she reacted like ice had been dropped down the back of her blouse. “Ya-ahh-ahh~!”

And again, Giriko was inclined to see what the matter was. Ichigo-san had switched to Riruka-san, and she was crumpling over the bar like his hands were anything but lightly-placed on her shoulders. From this distance and even up close, Giriko could not believe that Ichigo-san was putting any pressure on her. But then, she was the delicate type. Obviously, there was something wrong with the massage process. “Ichigo-san, if I may offer a suggestion…”

Riruka’s head suddenly snapped up, her ponytails bouncing. Her teeth clenched and ground together, her face was furiously red, eyes shimmering with the fires of passion and anger. “Dammit, Giriko! Don’t turn around! I don’t want to see you!”

Her ass gyrated awkwardly, trying to mash Ichigo’s cock between the cheek more comfortably, his bulbous tip already locked through the sphincter.

“Just keep working on my tea! Turn around again…!” She picked up a coaster from next to her. “… and I’ll throw this at your dumb head!”

Giriko found her mouth more threatening than her fist. At least the former would hurt his head more than that plastic coaster that she waved at him. “As you wish,” he sighed and turned away.

It wasn’t to Riruka’s liking, the view. Here she was, biting the counter with her well-manicured fingernails, staring at the back of Giriko’s dumb head while the hottie behind her worked her bowels loose. Ugh, so big! Her eyes darted somewhere, anywherebut the back of Giriko! She looked left and right desperately to no avail. What was she looking for? A mirror or glass, something to look into to watch her unbelievably cute expressions and the cute idiot laying into her body in long, deep strokes. But she didn’t want it to be obvious! She didn’t want to pull out the compact mirror stuffed between her tits to let Jackie know what she wanted to watch.

Jeez!, she squealed in her head, struggling not to make a sound. He’s going to make me cum already! She was bowing forward, her body scrunching up on the stool. Her ass was easier for him to push into now; his thrusts were drawing back further and plunging back in to deeper effect. Worse yet, her pussy was dripping wet against the leather seat, and the more he shoved his weight against her, the more she lifted, the more she dropped back into the puddle of her ecstasy to make an unsightly squelch! Just a bit louder, and stupid Giriko might take notice!

Damn him! Damn him!! If it were the two of them, she’d be squeaking and squawking and commanding that Ichigo pound that dick of his harder and faster to cum in time with her. “Hurry…! up…!” was all that she managed to eek out without Giriko noticing. She grabbed Ichigo’s hands with her own, stapling them to where he was holding her by the waist. Faster! Faster! she communicated to him with desperate squeezes from her fingers. He obliged, losing a few husky and heady moans himself as he raced up her track.

It almost seemed that Riruka would get her wish with a simultaneous orgasm, splashing the seat beneath her while he flooded her intestines, but there was abrupt interference from her left: Jackie’s hand, reaching out so very nonchalantly to dance up under Riruka’s skirt and find the soft patch of damp magenta hair. Under that, the protuberance that had gone torturously ignored until now. Jackie swiped at it with the pad of his index finger, causing Riruka’s legs to twitch together on reflex.

“S-stop it, Jackie,” Riruka seethed venomously. But she was in no state to ward the older woman’s advance off. Like she owned that patch of hair and the moist gash below, she fingered and probed and pet and inserted. The walls closed desperately fast along the two digits trekking inside, and she could feel the run of the cock grinding through the other track.

Riruka’s left eye ticked as something ran by the corner. Sweat… Sweat was so dirty and gross, but she was perspiring heavily and uncontrollably from the stress of biting back her voice. “No” squeaked out of her as her face pinched up, her hips curling into Jackie’s crooking fingers. She swore – probably at Jackie most of all – when she lifted above the soft seat. The wet patter of her ejaculate rained on the leather padding while she restrained the usual squeal of delight that came with her orgasms. Jackie’s adventurous digits slipped tenaciously through the sticky deluge, her thumb most persistent against the swollen pink pearl halfway hidden in neat magenta hair. She looked like she could cry – there were tiny tears stinging the corners of her squeezed-shut eyes. Her upper body seized up, her elbows locking on the bar, while her lower body jolted to Jackie’s fingers as if the escape the butt-stuffing Ichigo gave her. But finally, with a loud “Yah~!”, Riruka gave out, all tension unwinding in a single moment to throw her across the counter like her skeleton had left her all at once; she tucked her chin with a harder flush at the embarrassing plop!of her bottom splatting on her self-soaked seat. She quaked as she breathed. Her arms laid out in a lazy circle nesting her head. “You,” she exhaled amongst her unpleasant-but-still-cute panting. “You… idiots, huffhuff!”

“Hm.” Jackie’s soaked hand hovered up from Riruka’s open thighs; Riruka’s essence clung gooey to the fingers. The ebon woman flashed her tongue against one fingertip, sampled Riruka’s flavor and gave an approving smirk to Ichigo. He was panting as well as the finished girl, weak to the pleasure, but persistent. Jackie was convinced that this poorly-disciplined slacker would’ve finished by Riruka’s orgasm.

It was tough… That was true. Riruka’s asshole was plush and firm, and the quick and strong contractions of her muscles during her orgasm nearly took him. He had seen Jackie’s arm sneak over so that her fingers could dance up Riruka’s skirt for a provoking fiddle. He had known the moment she touched ground; Riruka’s asshole seized up, the entire hole coming down on him at once and staggering his pace. The ring he had burst through pulsated as it tried to close again against his unwilling penis. The ragged gasps he made should have been enough to bring Giriko’s attention around again, but Riruka’s last threat to his cranium must have set him resiliently to task. That was good luck; Ichigo just barely held on to his precious load as Riruka gave out and dropped, her sphincter pumping around him until he dragged himself slowly from her fucked hole.

He had made a more serious wager that needed to be seen to; Riruka, though she would not like to know or hear it, was merely a first course.

Jackie’s ass was an entirely different experience than Riruka. The prissy Fullbringer boasted a good behind and tight entryway, but Jackie was rounder, more developed and shapely. Practice had made punching back into her easy, but no less enticing. It felt like falling, yet something more pleasant than that. Poking his head through, he just urged himself through to bottom out in a single roll. She had applied Riruka’s slick to her own hole to appreciate the insertion, but Ichigo doubted that that alone would have made it such a frolic. He hooked his hands onto Jackie’s shoulders, closed his eyes and groaned deeply behind her; she closed her eyes too, moaning with a bit more class, like she was settling into her favorite seat after a day of standing.

Inside her was warm… No, hot! It burned to wedged up inside Jackie’s backside, but not in any harming way. Like Yoruichi-san’s hot spring, it soothed him, but also invoked him to frenzy. Girikio was turned away, still stirring Riruka’s drink, dashing it with just the right amount of sugars and creams to sweeten it but not ruin it. His craft was as admirable as it was convenient; Ichigo felt sure that he would not turn around and see him push a hand down Jackie’s vee.

Her head turned; he glimpsed just one olive-green eye glaring at him. “You’re reckless,” she whispered, an oft-said observation during training, but Ichigo took no heed as he ruthlessly pawed her large, supple breast until discovering a plump dark-brown nipple. Her lips parted to give an airy huff and spoke not a word of rebuke to his actions while his pelvis continued to collide with her bottom. It was the lushness of it that separated her from Riruka. Her cheeks, so round of soft and bouncy flesh; they cushioned his thrusts and he also felt like he sprung from them as well.

He crushed his crotch up to her butt, lifting her from the stool for a brief moment; a moment that caught her gasping and disheveled. He could not fondle her as she had Riruka. He would have to legitimately try to make her lose her composure and satisfy her soundly and put this risky wager to bed.

Her ring; he could feel it press around him when he cemented himself against the exposed globes. Her colon coiled around his shaft, uncoiled and fluttered, the muscles working against him but unable to do anything but pleasure him. His moan wisped hotly through her dark hair. She answered with “Harder.”

Ichigo didn’t check for Giriko anymore; he just obeyed. His testicles were already brimming, aching from all this edging. He should have spouted inside Riruka. He felt so engorged, his balls starting to throb with pain. When they slapped up against Jackie – her lowered pants blocking him from going up against her smooth and wet cunt – it caused a sharp stab that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Ichigo bit into his bottom lip, seething, knowing he was almost done for.

“Almost done.” Giriko’s level voice broke the tense silence like a fire alarm. Ichigo panicked and looked to see the butler setting aside ingredients and slowly turning off the flame of the stove.

“Don’t forget Riruka.” Jackie seemed resigned; pleased by his efforts, but she needed more and Ichigo had no time to provide.

He muttered, “But…” and she cut him off. “Next time,” she assured him, and then shoved her ass entirely back to him, rocking and rolling and shifting his hard cock inside her until…

He was cumming before he could finish his last exhale. The white tide roiled up the constricted channel, seeping deep as possible with the following jets. Jackie’s butt bounced up with little leaps, aiding his ejaculate. However, it turned out to be up to her to remove Ichigo and keep him from overflowing her bowels. She dragged herself off of him while she choked back the remainder of his release.


He had little time to return to the other Fullbringer, so he lifted the back of her skirt, and before she could react to the audacity, he plowed back into her backside, still loose and practically gaping from his last visit. She jerked back to life with a harsh grunt, gritting her teeth and facing forward with unfocused eyes. And not more than a second after he shoved in all the way, she felt her sorely stretched salved with liquid warmth. And to hasten the rush of his sowing, Ichigo rammed back and forth, clapping with her butt until the final thrust finished putting the last drips of seed against her intestinal walls.

The feeling was sensational; at the same time, it felt dirty. Riruka shivered from the confliction in her belly, warm from his imbedded semen and hotter from anger. “You stupid…”

“Here you are.” Giriko was a stickler for presentation, as he knew Riruka shared the need. Not cute enough of an angle, and Riruka would send back a slice of cake. Giriko practiced and learned her preferences. Surely she would appreciate the effort he had gone through for her. Yet, when he turned with tray in hand, decorated with a red carnation in a soft vase on the right and a frilled napkin on the left with the tea on a pink doily, he was baffled to find his patrons in a state of ruin; Jackie with her hair partially mussed and top ruffled, drinking with some satisfaction from her martini, Riruka lying across the table, arms splayed out while she gasped for breath with a flushed face, and Ichigo retired to the couch, seeming lazy and exhausted.

“Hmm.” Giriko gently set the drink down in front of Riruka. “Your technique is… impressive, Ichigo-san.” He peered at the state of Riruka in inspection, cupping his broad chin. “Perhaps you could explain it to me someday.”

In place of the boy hardly able to turn his head, Riruka picked her own up and growled at him. “Shut up, Giriko.”

Jackie simply sipped of her alcohol, satisfied with the pact Ichigo breathlessly agreed to when his cock drew out of Riruka’s flooded asshole.

Riruka, too, was given conditions for usurping this session.


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