[Diana] Di's quite the kisser.

Chantel occasionally blinks at you {if@ Chantel_ophelia = true}when not smothered by a massive, milky tit{else}when her gaze isn't blocked by writhing bodies.{endif} {if@ Chantel_arousal > 3}Her gaze seems far away, but she still quietly mouths some hopeless resistance when able.{else}Defiantly, her brow furrows over a hateful gaze, as if to demand your surrender.{endif} "Di," you whisper, startling your thick **** from her mindless, standing bean-flicking in a corner, "do you remember how we were kissing? Before you were {if Morality < 0}my ****?{else@}pregnant?{endif}"

She nods with a sudden smile at the pleasant thought, disregarding the growing moans of your prisoner. "Of course, Peck-sama... though I prefer how we kiss now, I will cherish those memories, always."

You try to not cringe or snicker at the title, that strange compromise between using your name and calling you 'Master', the way every fiber of her being tells her to address you. No matter how it sounds to people familiar with the most embarrassing of anime fans, it is undeniably Diana... and yours, now. "I want you to get over there, and pretend Chantel's lips and face are my own... and make-out with her until she's convinced of the future I promise." Who's sounding too anime, now?

Regardless of the melodramatics, Diana complies, hesitantly skipping along the length of the bed covered in writhing flesh, and stopping at the head of the mattress, her fat chest swaying as she turns and hovers over Chantel. {if@ Chantel_ophelia = true}Perhaps traumatized by Ophelia's volume, Chantel's face shows clear signs of panic as another set of massive knockers roves into view... until they come down on her shoulder, and Diana's greedy lips and tongue probe her milk-covered maw. {else}Unsure of what you whispered, the con-woman rocks her head back and forth as Diana's face looms... only to have her chin pinched by Diana's fingers, steadying her head long enough for Diana's greedy lips and tongue probe hers.{endif}

The results are immediate: Chantel's tiny body surges upwards on the bed, but her face never pulls away, even when Diana lets it go save for the hot, meaty grip of lips on lips. As Chantel eases into it, letting her own tiny tongue probe Diana's, you see both women struggle to match each other's pace: Diana pushing into a shrinking Chantel, the latter surging upwards to a softer, surprised former. Eventually they find an equilibrium, beautiful, full lips only barely touching and tongues dart out to taste one another, a bit of drool oozing from each mouth as this soft game of teasing drives both of them into a stupor, perhaps only because of this setting. {if@ Ophelia_slave = true}{if@ Chantel_ophelia = true}When Ophelia nears again,{else}When you eventually order Ophelia into the mix, with her{endif} hoping for relief for her swollen chest, it is both girls who greedily suckle and drain a bit more from her mammaries, releasing with filled mouths to sweeten their return to lovemaking with their mouths.{endif}