Chapter 5 R-18+

Shouldn't he be allowed just a little taste of this breeding ground, too?

If Ichigo had a chance at it, he'd be sorely tempted to get on board with it.

He could more than happily be just another full set of nuts and a long, hard dick for them, put to work on breeding trashy bitches.

He might just start to believe any old excuses those grinning girlies made about why he couldn't, or just plain shouldn't, use a condom.

Deep in the heart of this villainous pit of succubi, without any wifely supervision present, it might not take much to convince him at all.

If only Rukia had been there to guide him!

But she wasn't.

So she was gonna be sucking the taste of other girl's pussies off his cock later.

... If Ichigo cheated, that was. Which he totally wouldn't!

Ichigo struggled to clear his head, reminding himself again that he shouldn't be here. Yes, he definitely shouldn't be.

What he should be doing was walking out that door, leaving, and finding his wife before something bad happened...

And, as he refocused his thoughts, the poor guy actually found himself wondering why he was even here in the first place yet again.

He must have gone crazy; he didn't go out for random breeding hook-ups where he frantically squirted out all his pent-up frustration into any pussy he could find.

That wasn't the sort of man Ichigo was!

But then he remembered exactly why he was here. This wasn't just any old casual hook-up. Nope, not at all!

Girls... Rather, women like Matsumoto and Yoruichi weren't to be denied.

When those two called you out for a stop-off on your way somewhere, even your one-year anniversary with your wife, you listened.

Their tits had a magnetic pull, and if those big bouncing orbs wanted him here, there were no questions about it.

Any protests he might try to voice would only be drowned out by another bounce from The Girls.

Ichigo had come here, not for just one of the baddest bitches in the Soulburner, but two of them.

Both powerful women in their own right, superhuman and very cheeky bad girls with all-natural bodies fit to bursting out of their clothes.

Now that was a nice thought. That really stroked off that ego of his fit to bursting.

There were so many men he'd normally be envious of out there on the floor: big muscular studs and alpha bulls, the lot of them.

The thought he was gonna be swatting those two big bums in front of a crowd like that, with soooo many men thirsting for the perfect pussies, brought out very distinctly masculine instincts in Ichigo.

Instincts neglected during his time with the demure and ladylike Rukia.

Because, while Rukia was every part the perfect Japanese wife, restrained and quietly supportive of her man, Rangiku and Miss Shihōin were more like animals. Especially when compared to her.

Where penetrating her with that long, broad cock of his ended in her letting out whimpers of pain and gripping his arms, those uncouth women would throw their heads back and moan his name.

They'd howl like depraved beasts and shake their hips seeking pleasure.

He might have been able to resist the other women down here at the Soulburner, but those two could have anything they wanted from him.

With just a few short sways of their chests, they could leave Ichigo breathless and eager to obey.

His mind swam to thoughts of himself on his back, leering bitches with rolling eyes and crooked grins perched over him, spreading swollen and meaty pussy-lips apart to gulp his cock down to the thick root.

He was halfway through thinking about those two bitches kissing him and each other, suctioning the taste of each other's pussies off his dick and washing it down with hard liquor... when Ichigo felt himself dragged back to reality.

For some time now, there had been a troubling sensation of an entirely different perverted club throbbing away between his legs.

It felt so big and hard and horny! He needed to find those bitches fast!

---

Ichigo reached the bar and turned away from it, putting his elbows up in-between the drained glasses and beer stains.

He concentrated on sifting through the sea of bodies for any sign of his two friends.

It should be easy enough to find them... The unfairly-large swell of Matsumoto's chest, and the fertility goddess bumps of Yoruichi's dark buttflesh bulging out of her yoga pants were two of the biggest and best landmarks a horny stud could be looking for.

But wouldn't he know it? The poor boy had been in such a state this whole time that he hadn't even noticed Yoruichi danced right in front of him.

Ichigo only noticed her when he finally got his heart to stop pounding in his chest. His racing brain slowed down a little bit, and he was able to finally separate the bright from the dull.

Like an optical illusion slowly coming together for the untrained eye, Ichigo laid his long overdue eyes on that bouncing black booty.

Yoruichi was up on one of those miniature stage, gyrating in a primitive mating call, for anyone who wanted to answer it.

She wore the exact same outfit as before, but it looked soooo much better here than it did on his phone: a massively-overburdened cut-off top straining on her big black tits, and cut-out spandex white yoga pants.

The stone-cold fox had also stepped into a pair of green platform high-heels.

They were so glossy and shiny it was as she'd been wrapped in tight, shiny plastic.

Ichigo had missed her in his white-knuckled sex-panic, but now he had all time in the world to properly take her in.

Right before his eyes the colossally-curved bitch - so big and round and plump she made even the most sensational curves look flat and dull in comparison - sauntered right up to one of the club's stripper poles and took hold of it.

She rolled her mammoth hips in slow, lazy circles.

Yoruichi clasped the pole nice and tightly as she locked eyes with her horny, helpless beau.

There was no doubt about it: that black bitch knew exactly what she was doing, and the torture and torment she was putting all those dicks through.

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