Vivian LeBlanc-Vyers

I understood everything perfectly now. I was absolutely positive that I was dreaming, and perhaps not for the reasons one might be thinking. Most would have already come to this conclusion, but I was a man well-familiar with anime and the isekai genre, and up until now I hadn’t totally discounted the possibility of being transported to another world. There was also the possibility that I had just died and gone to heaven; I wasn’t a religious guy but if you asked me what I thought heaven might be like if it was real, it would probably be something like this.

But no, this was a dream, and what caused me to finally be one-hundred percent certain of this fact was Vivian’s room. It started innocently enough with her doorway. It was a simple wooden door reminiscent of a college dorm with a gold plaque on it reading: Vivian LeBlanc-Vyers. This name interested me because it was hyphenated, and I made a mental note to ask about that later just to satisfy my curiosity.

“Slurp, slurp...”

Now, if someone were to ask me what I thought the personal room of a private luxury resort owner’s stepdaughter would look like, before today, I would have conjured up an image of a fantastic suite with far too much room, modern decorations, and the best gadgets and amenities money could buy. I would fully expect it to be the second-best room on the whole island behind the owner herself.

What lay beyond the gold-plaque door was not that in the least. The room was tiny, for a start, being about as big as a typical teenager’s bedroom with about the same aesthetic too. Band posters for various metal and/or edgy-looking punk groups alongside posters clearly taken from various anime magazines. A cluttered variety of dark cosmetics on a black-painted vanity haphazardly shoved into whatever corner it could fit in. A writing desk with notebooks scattered all over it and around it with no sense for organization. A twin-size bed with black and purple sheets which, admittedly, did look extremely comfortable. Said bed was covered in a vast assortment of cute stuffed animals and various anime-related plush dolls, a few of which I actually recognized. And finally, because there was frankly no room for a bookshelf anywhere, shelves and cubbies were built into the top of two walls. These shelves contained a significant number of manga, DVDs, blu-rays, a sparse few anime figurines, and videogames all in a disorganized mess.

The room’s already small size was made even worse by the fact that it was such a mess, but also because most of the space was dominated by the bed, a coffee table cluttered with empty soda cans, a flat-screen TV on the opposite wall of the bed, the vanity, and the nightstand. There was absolutely no elbowroom. To top it all off, there was no air-conditioning, meaning a single oscillating fan on the nightstand was the only source of comfort from the oppressing heat of a tropical island. There wasn’t even a shower or bath, the bathroom had a single toilet and sink and nothing else. When I inquired about this, Vivian told me that this building had a communal bath and shower room that everyone here used.

“Slurp, mmmh…”

When I first saw the room, I had half a mind to call Abigail immediately and tell her I wanted the luxury suite she offered; it had to be better than this and I would have just asked Vivian to come and stay with me there instead of here. There was barely enough space for one person let alone two, the bed wasn’t even built for two people.

I couldn’t understand it, it made no sense and the fact that it made no sense caused me to think about the other things that didn’t make sense that I’d seen on the way here. And that was when it hit me.

It did make sense, but only if you thought about it from a different angle. Because if this was supposed to be the best possible representation of a tropical island resort, it absolutely would have a better room for the owner’s daughter and it absolutely would have elevators that worked; but it also wouldn’t be populated by only hot women and cute femboys. There would be guys, old men and women, and snot-nosed brats pooping in the pools.

But if this place was meant to portray the perfect resort for me to get my rocks off, everything made total sense. Think about it, when I rode the elevators and they went really slow, what happened? I took advantage of that ride and played out a common fantasy of getting lucky in an elevator with three different gorgeous ladies. Now I was in an extremely cramped room with no air conditioner, what does that mean? It means I am going to be constantly rubbing against, bumping into, and squeezing beside a really fucking sexy, sweaty, curvy, goth girl and neither of us will be wearing slim-to-no clothes thanks to the heat. That was the perfect formula for frequent erotic satisfaction because we would both be constantly hot, sweaty, and horny.

“Sluuuurp—mwahhh! How’s it feel, babe?” Vivian asked me before plunging my cock back in-between her lips.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the only reason I was really thinking about all this was to distract me from how fucking amazing Vivian was at giving head. Like, holy hot damn, I needed to go into such a deep philosophical mode otherwise I would have nutted within the first fifteen seconds of the blowjob she was giving me.

“Fucking hell, woman,” I replied, “this is literally the best thing that has ever happened to my dick.”

She actually choked briefly and quickly removed my length from her mouth, beginning to jerk it off with her hands instead just so she could laugh out loud, “Well, if it helps, this dick is the best thing that’s ever happened to my mouth.”

“You sure about that? I mean, your step—er, bonus-mom is a pretty good kisser.”

She blushed and rolled her eyes, “True, but I’m having so much fun right now.” Then she slid back down my stiff rod and began bobbing up and down. My head never quite penetrated her throat, but it honestly didn’t need to, half my length was still lodged in her mouth and her tongue-work was divine, especially when combined with the hard piercing on her lip and the single hand she was using to stroke my base.

“I had to focus so hard not to just explode right away,” I said, and felt the need arising in me as I brought attention to it.

She slid her tongue up and down my cock and said, “Go ahead and just cum whenever, babe, I swallow.” Then she wiggled her brows up at me and slid the tip back between her moist, soft, black lips.

Music to my god damned ears. The dam burst and I erupted into her mouth without any further delay, sending a torrent of pearly goop into her mouth. I felt like a rampant firehose, and the almost frantic gulping Vivian was making as a result made the experience even better. I’d gotten some blowjobs before—and by “some” I mean exactly one—and I’d loved the experience but, when compared to Vivian, that one was tepid, boring, and passionless. And that one time, the girl didn’t swallow. Lord, I never knew how satisfying it was just hearing someone gulp down my spunk.

She wasn’t just taking it, though, she was trying to milk it for all it was worth, jerking my full length with her hands while the tip was between her lips and her tongue swirled around it. She moaned between gulps.

“Mmm gulp—mmm gulp...”

Because of the mounting pressure in my groin as it entered its more sensitive stage, I instinctively started pulling my hips back, but it didn’t stop her relentless ****. She wrapped an arm around my hips and actually pulled me closer to her so that I stayed inside the wonderfully moist prison of her mouth.

“Gulp… gulp… gulp… mwahhh! Mnnnnh!” when, at last, every last drop of spunk had been siphoned from me, she pulled off and moaned deeply. In a daze, the hand that had been working my shaft drifted down between her legs and began stroking at her own sex rapidly and desperately. Wanting to help the process along a little, I reached forward and grabbed her bare tits and began squeezing and kneading them far more roughly than I had before, actually pulling and yanking them in various directions.

“Fuck, yes, keep playing with my titties, babe,” she practically groaned these words as her eyelids fluttered. “God, yes, I’m gonna cum. It feels so good!” Then her moans became louder and breathier, occasionally squeaking as the air seemed to leave her body. She leaned forward into my hands as her hips twitched and jerked violently.

When it was clear that the wave of pleasure had subsided, she fell forward between my open legs. I leaned forward too and hugged her head against my belly. Her face was actually right next to my penis again, and hazily she began cooing and rubbing her face against it as though she was nuzzling it. She was being gentle about it, probably mindful of my sensitivity—which actually wasn’t as bad as it normally would be—but clearly, she wasn’t quite all there yet.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Mmmn, yeah,” she replied before looking up at me. “That was a lot of fun, babe. Your cum is fucking delicious. Now I’m actually mad at you for holding back because it delayed being able to drink it.”

I laughed.

She nudged me backward a little, having me adjust my position on the bed so that my back was against the adjacent wall. Afterward, she hopped upward and spun around, leaning against me with her smooth, bare, sexy back. My semi-flaccid cock was now sandwiched like a hotdog in her jiggly rear.

“You really are going to be popular around here,” Vivian said, stretching and sighing. “Everyone here loves oral, at least everyone I’ve talked to.”

Before she brought her arms back down, I began exploring her body with my hands, squeezing her breasts again, of course, but also feeling her sides, her arms, her thighs, even her belly which had just enough fluff to be fun to squeeze and knead. She protested to none of this, her breathing even, calm, and relaxed.

“You really do have some talented hands, babe,” she said.

I was still confused about that but decided not to bring it up. Better to just have super-hands and not wonder why, in the end. “And your body is like a magnet for them, so I hope you won’t get sick of them.”

“Fucking never, dude. Feel me up whenever, I mean it.”

“You like getting groped then?”

She nodded, “Absolutely. Doesn’t even matter who does it, I love it. A-as long as you’re cool with that, of course.” She added, hastily.

I held up my hands briefly before returning to her thighs, sliding my fingers along their jiggly softness and melting with satisfaction, “You won’t see me complaining. If I’m being honest, the way your stepmom just casually grabbed your top and pulled it down to expose more of your boobs gave me an instant boner.”

She giggled, “I noticed that. I bet us making out helped too, huh?”

“That was pretty awesome,” I agreed. “I have to admit it surprised me, though. It’s not every day you see a woman full-on make out with her stepdaughter.”

“I guess that’s fair, it probably warrants some kind of explanation. I definitely have a unique relationship with both of my moms. You were actually the third crush I ever had, the first two were my mom and Abby. By the time I was old enough to realize that wasn’t normal, I was already pretty down bad for them.

“I used to use the excuse of ‘practice kissing’ to frequently make out with Abby, then I noticed that the kisses with my other mom started getting a little more heated and with tongue. By now we don’t even try to hide it, but we also don’t talk about it much. And we don’t actually do anything hardcore. It’s just skinship stuff like kissing, groping, and flirting. When we talk with each other we don’t hesitate to bring up sexual stuff, either.”

“Well, one way or another, I approve. You’re all consenting adults so it doesn’t matter. Also, it’s hot as hell.”

Vivian giggled, “I’ll invite Abby around more often so you can watch, she is the teasing queen though, so you’ll need to be on standby to help relieve some horniness.” She then grabbed one of my hands, slid a couple fingers into her mouth, and suckled on them gently. Then she pulled them out only briefly to ask, “Hey, I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this, but you know how we all have those sleepless nights where our minds just wander in naughty directions?”

“I tend to masturbate on those nights, yeah.”

“Right, me too, but like, you’re tired… and you don’t want to get up because the bed is comfy, so you just start thinking about stuff… fantasizing, you know?” As she spoke, she would occasionally pause to lick my fingers.

“I’m following,” I said, gently rolling her nipple between the fingers of my free hand.

“Well, what’s your go-to fantasy? The one that always treats you good.” After asking, she opened her mouth again and I felt her tongue poke my finger invitingly.

I surprised her by grabbing her tongue between my fingers and gently stroking and squeezing it. This made her moan a little. That was a potentially very risky question to ask a guy like me. I had quite a few.

I was actually at more of a disadvantage here than I would have liked to have been. As mentioned previously, I wasn’t a risk-taker, and would prefer her to answer first so I could have an idea of what might be too much for her. But then the thought occurred to me that she may have asked me first for that exact same reason, she might have some kinky stuff—or stuff she thought was kinky—that she didn’t know if she could reveal yet.

I could have just gone the easy route and said that it was this exact situation, being on a tropical island full of hotties who wanna suck me off. I wouldn’t even be lying either; this had been a fantasy of mine on a couple of those sleepless nights. But it wasn’t fair, I should probably go with something much more substantive given that she already revealed to me that she was a cuckquean previously. I should, at the very least, offer up something comparable.

“Okay, promise you won’t get weirded out by this, it’s a little out there,” I said at last.

She nodded.

“Cumplay. I love the idea of my partner drinking, eating, chewing my cum, or using it as a topping for food. I also like the idea of someone using it like a lotion, beauty cream, or shampoo even.”

“Ooo~” my fingers slipped off her tongue and she replied, “you wanna be a girl’s best friend, then. One-stop snack bar and beauty shop.”

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders at her tone. I was actually kinda nervous about her reaction, it was pretty weird.

“I really have to introduce you to my mom, then. She gets all kinds of weird over-the-counter vitamins from a company called ‘Dr. Lantern’ or something. Supposedly they are like performance enhancement supplements on crack. At least from what I’ve overheard, they can actually do stuff like what you’re talking about.”

“Like, making my cum taste good?”

“Yeah, not that you really need that one,” she turned and winked at me. “But like, some can turn your spunk into a beauty cream and shampoo and stuff. Even sunscreen.”

“No fucking way,” I said, skeptical, “there’s no way a supplement can do stuff like that, it’s impossible,” I replied.

She only shrugged and I did feel a little silly. All things considered, this was a dream, so it really wasn’t all that impossible.

“Well, anyway, your turn,” I invited, bringing both my hands down to her breasts again, playfully poking and prodding her nipples.

She blushed, “Well, okay, I’ve kind of given away the big one a little earlier. I told you I liked being groped, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s a little more to it than that. Probably my go-to fantasy is to be in a public place and somebody, whether it’s somebody I know or some stranger, just comes up to me and just gropes me, adjusts my clothing so it exposes more, or just meticulously takes off my clothes. No warning, no lead-up, no mention, no nothing. And then neither of us acknowledges the molestation, we just keep doing whatever we were doing before, even if it’s casual conversation.”

“Damn, that’s hot,” I admitted.

“It’s not too weird?”

“Girl, I just told you I want my banana-cream to be used as shampoo and conditioner. I’d have to be quite the asshole to think that was too weird.”

She laughed and relaxed, the moaned a little because I pinched her nipples a bit harder for being so silly, “Mn, okay you got me there. Well then it sounds like you and I are pretty compatible then. I’ve never really thought about using sperm as a beauty product or hot-dog condiment before, but I kinda like the idea, honestly. I would be happy to try it sometime, especially your sperm. Have I mentioned that your stuff is fucking delicious yet?”

I laughed this time, “It’s really lucky we’re dating, huh?”

She smiled, “Yeah, it is.” There was a certain mysterious quality to her tone, but I was frankly getting too tired to think about it much. There was a comfortable silence that lingered over us then before I remembered the gold plaque on her door, “Oh yeah, I noticed the name-card on the door. Your name is hyphenated but I don’t think Abigail’s is. Also, she’s your bonus-mom so I was wondering why you have her name at all.”

“Oh right, that’s kind of a long story, you sure you wanna hear?”

“Of course,” I said, relaxing in place and getting ready for story-time. Even if this was a dream, it would be interesting to hear how detailed the dream could be in its strive for realism.

“The LeBlanc part of my name is from my mom’s side. My dad was a deadbeat who backed out of their relationship the moment he heard she was pregnant. I’ve never even met him; he disappeared off the face of the Earth. Obviously, mom didn’t give me his name, and thank god. Doesn’t seem like a good role model.”

I nodded, “For sure, definitely not cool.”

“Abby was actually my mom’s friend for a long time, long before I was born, even. She was a constant presence all throughout my childhood even before she and my mom got married. She’d always come over and play with me because I didn’t have any other siblings, she would help take care of me and babysit me when my mom needed to work. She was great.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I agreed.

“After both of them got together and got married, I was still a little kid, but I started to notice that my situation was different than other kids. Weirdly, the detail you might expect I’d be fixated on, that I had two moms and everyone else had a mom and a dad, wasn’t what stood out to me. It was actually the last names. I noticed that every other kid had a last name that matched with their parents, but mine only matched with my mom, and I didn’t understand the dynamics of how that all worked yet.

“When I brought it up to my parents, they explained how it normally works and why their situation was different. Abby owned a company, and a fairly successful one that had ‘Vyers’ in its name, so changing her last name to LeBlanc would have been a poor business choice. And My mom didn’t want to change her last name because she liked it, and it had a lot of history. So, they both kept their last names, and I kept mine because my LeBlanc mom was my first mom. That’s how they explained it, anyway.”

“Right, that makes sense,” I said, but I was curious where this was going.

“But after hearing that, little-kid-me wasn’t satisfied. I loved both of my moms equally and didn’t want to play favorites, I wanted to share. So, I convinced them to let me have both of their last names. They legally got my last name changed to LeBlanc-Vyers and the rest is history.”

“That is so fucking adorable,” I said.

Vivian blushed profusely and pouted back at me, “Shut up! You asked, you weirdo! I was a kid!”

I laughed, “And yet you don’t deny it.” I grinned devilishly.

“Ugh, I should have just made something up.”

“Indeed, that was a fatal mistake. I’ll never let you live it down.”

We then got into a loving but still slightly competitive wrestling and/or groping match on the tiny bed, giggling and tickling each other until our sides hurt and we became too exhausted to continue. Eventually we were laying on the bed in the correct manner, albeit cuddled together really tightly thanks to the lack of space. Oddly, this position didn’t really bother me despite the heat, it was really comfortable, and she was super soft all over.

I relaxed, honestly feeling a little sleepy. Her gently fluttering eyelids near my own told me she was in a similar boat.

A part of me was worried then—utterly terrified, really—that I was correct in my assumption that this was a dream. The island was great, the idea of it was pretty appealing and I couldn’t wait to explore it. But Vivian was the true reason for my dread. If I hadn’t met this wonderful woman, I might have still had some apprehension about the possibility of waking up, but not nearly to this degree. I desperately didn’t want Vivian to just vanish from existence the moment my eyes opened in the real world. I never wanted her to leave, frankly, this was the happiest I’d ever been. We had a similar sense of humor, compatible sexual tastes, she was a cute goth girl who was apparently a private nudist. She was perfect for me in nearly every way.

But that’s the thing about dreams, isn’t it? Eventually you have to wake up.