Dealing with the Bodyguards

I barely had a moment to enjoy the sight of Nami’s hips swaying as she walked out of the shop before I realized a problem.

Barto and Desire were outside.

And the whole point of putting them there was to not let Nami get away.

Shit.

I moved quickly, stepping up behind her just as she reached for the door. Before she could push it open, I slid an arm around her waist, my hand resting firmly on the curve of her ass like we were lovers casually leaving a shop together.

Nami stiffened—just slightly—but then her expression flickered into something amused.

“Oh?” she murmured, her smirk curling as she shifted her weight just so, pressing into my side like we belonged together. “Getting possessive already?”

I chuckled, squeezing her cheek. “Just keeping you safe.”

She exhaled a sharp laugh, her brown eyes glittering. “Uh-huh.”

But she didn’t move away.

If anything, she leaned closer.

I was almost feeling smug about it—until Barto’s voice cut through the air as we got outside.

“Oi, boss, so it’s my turn now, right?”

I froze.

Fuck. I had such a good moment going here with Nami!

Barto, the tall fucker, was leaned against the wall, arms folded, his sharp-toothed grin stretched wide Desire was still idly rolling her pipe through her cleavage, making no effort to conceal the fact that she was enjoying watching passing men nearly walk into carts, doors, and each other at the sight of her unfettered, bouncing tits.

Nami’s head tilted, curiosity flickering across her expression before she turned to me, one brow raised. “Your turn?”

I scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might’ve… agreed to pay him with, uh… sloppy seconds.”

Nami exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. “You pay your minions with sex.” She gave me a dry, unimpressed look. “Why am I not surprised.”

I grunted. “It’s compensation.”

“It’s stupid,” Nami corrected.

Barto just grinned, fangs flashing. “I ain’t complainin’.”

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It's so stupid…”

But she pressed closer.

Not pulling away. Not rejecting me. Just sighing like she was putting up with my nonsense.

And then she fanned my vanity.

Sliding her hands up my chest, curling her fingers lightly against the fabric, she tilted her head, her expression turning sly. “Besides…” Her gaze flicked toward Barto’s groin.
Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly, taking careful stock. Then, with a slow smirk, she held up her hands, spreading them apart.

“You must be this big to ride.”

Barto snorted, shaking his head. “Damn, that’s cold.”

“Just facts,” she said breezily, looking up at me through her lashes. “Right, big guy?”

I smirked, giving her ass another squeeze. “Damn right. This is boss-exclusive pussy.”

She rolled her eyes but then she shifted.

I barely had time to process it before she stole a kiss from me.

A real kiss.

Open-mouthed, wet, tongue sliding against mine, her body pressing tight against me.

Her hand slid between us, gripping my package possessively, fingers curling around my half-hard length through my pants.

It wasn’t just teasing.

It was a claim.

Like she was leaving a mark on me before she left.

Then, just as quickly as she leaned in, she pulled back, smirking at the dazed look I knew was on my face.

And then her voice turned quiet. Sincere.

“Quit being a pirate.”

I blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift.

She tilted her head, her voice turning casual, almost teasing—but there was something real behind it. “A small fry like you? You’ll get killed following a freak like Buggy.”

I scoffed, smirking despite myself. “You care now?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nope.” Then, lowering her voice just slightly, she patted the front of my pants. “But I do have a soft spot for this big guy down here.”

Nami winked, releasing me, stepping back, turning on her heel with an effortless sway of her hips. “Something to think about,” she called over her shoulder.

And with that, she walked away, leaving me standing there, watching her go.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face.

Barto whistled low. “Damn, boss. That was somethin’.”

Desire, still absently tit-fucking her pipe, smirked. “Guess she likes you.”

I scowled. “She likes my dick.”

Desire chuckled. “Same thing.”

Barto laughed. “You gonna quit bein’ a pirate?”

I rolled his eyes. “Fuck no.”

After a moment I added, “Guess we better see about getting you paid, huh?”

We walked inside, the air thick with the remnants of sweat and sex. The shopkeeper—now back behind the counter, red-faced and smoothing her skirt—looked up and froze the second she saw Barto. Her eyes widened at the seven-foot punk, his fanged grin stretching wide as he walked in.

Her hand twitched toward the counter, maybe instinctively reaching for something heavy. Smart, but pointless.

“Uh, boss,” Barto muttered, side-eyeing me. “I'm all about sloppy seconds, but…”

He wrinkled his nose, muttering under his breath, “She’s fat and kinda old.”

The shopkeeper heard that—her expression flickering between alarm and outrage.

“Really? Normally you don’t care what a chick looks like. Horny freak like you? A pussy’s a pussy.”

The moment the words were out, Barto’s expression changed. His cocky grin remained, but the hesitance melted away, his sharp eyes flicking back to the merchant with fresh consideration. Like he’d just remembered something obvious—like he’d always been down for any warm hole, regardless of looks.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he headed straight for her.

I caught the look of fear flashing across the shopkeeper’s face as Barto stepped toward her. It was instinctual, the kind of deep-rooted self-preservation that came with knowing exactly how powerless you were in a world of stronger, crueler people.

But that kind of fear was unnecessary.

After all, everyone always walked away happy when I stepped into their lives.

I adjusted my earrings and smirked, speaking casually, as if I were just commenting on the weather. “It’s normal for you to be a secret free-use slut for punks and pirates.”

The change hit her instantly.

Her body language softened, tension melting from her shoulders like it had never been there at all. Instead of pressing herself against the counter like a cornered animal, she straightened up, smoothing her skirt with a slow, deliberate motion. Her lips parted slightly, her cheeks flushing—not with fear, but with something else entirely.

Anticipation.

I exhaled through my nose, watching the shift with satisfaction. See? Nothing wrong with what I was doing. I wasn’t forcing anyone into anything. I was just helping them realize something that had always been true.

The merchant’s eyes flicked to Barto, taking in his towering frame, the sharp fanged grin, the confidence in his stride. Her fingers twitched against the wooden counter, but instead of reaching for something to protect herself, she traced the edge of it—subtly, invitingly.

Barto noticed too.

His grin stretched wider, his sharp teeth flashing as he came to a stop in front of her. “Oh-ho, what’s this? You weren’t makin’ eyes at me like that a second ago.”

The merchant’s breath hitched, her flushed face tilting up toward him. “I—I suppose I wasn’t looking properly before…”

Barto chuckled, reaching out to cup her chin between his fingers, tilting her head side to side like he was appraising a fresh piece of meat. “Yeah? Guess you see me real clear now, huh?”

The shopkeeper swallowed hard, eyes darting down briefly—right to the bulge in his pants.

Barto felt the look.

His ego swelled, his grin turning downright devilish as he grabbed the front of his trousers, giving a slow, deliberate tug to emphasize the hard length inside. “Guess I should be thankin’ the boss here for remindin’ me how much I like breakin’ in a fat bitch like you.”

The merchant let out a small, shaky breath, but it wasn’t fear that made her chest rise and fall faster—it was excitement.

I smirked, leaning against the counter, watching the interaction unfold like a satisfied orchestrator.

This was fine.

No one was getting hurt. No one was suffering. The shopkeeper was still herself, wasn’t she? She just had a little extra clarity now. A realization about what she truly wanted.

Hell, wasn’t this better than what her life had been before? Boring, forgettable? Now she had a purpose, a natural inclination to serve men like Barto, like me.

It was right.

Barto wasted no time.

He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, bending her over the counter with casual ease. The merchant let out a breathy oof, but she didn’t resist. Her hands instinctively braced against the wood, her ass pressing back against him without hesitation.

Barto whistled low, dragging his palm over the curve of her ass. “Damn, boss,” he muttered, shooting me a look. “You sure she’s been fucked today? ‘Cause she’s needy as fuck.”

"We both saw him fuck her, moron." commented Desire.

Soon enough, her moans filled the shop as Barto pumped into her thick, welcoming pussy, his big hands gripping her wide hips as he went to town.

I leaned against the wall beside Desire, watching with idle amusement as the fat woman willingly took Barto’s thrusts, her mewls of pleasure barely muffled against the countertop. Barto, for his part, was enjoying himself, his sharp grin stretched wide, the steady slap of flesh on flesh filling the small space.

I turned my head slightly, catching Desire watching too.

Her arms were crossed under her bare, massive tits, her pipe still resting between them, her fingers absently adjusting the angle—pushing it deeper between her plush mounds, as if preparing to titfuck something a lot bigger than that steel rod.

She tilted her head, glancing at me with mild curiosity. “So,” she drawled, tapping her fingers against her bicep. “When am I getting my payment?”

“You want your turn with her?” I nodded toward the merchant, who let out a particularly loud moan as Barto slammed into her, her thick thighs quivering under his grip.

Desire snorted. “The fuck would I do with her?” She gave me a look, one that was far too knowing, her sharp blue eyes flicking down—lingering—before meeting his gaze again. “Nah, boss. You know what I mean.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you were that eager.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her stance. “I saw you fuck that redhead through the window.” Her gaze flicked down again, to where my cock still rested, slick from Nami’s juices, against my thigh. She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly. “Gotta say… pipe game’s impressive.”

I grinned. “That so?”

Desire hummed, rolling her pipe between her tits again, slowly, her fingers adjusting the angle with casual ease. “Mm. Never seen a bitch scream like that before.” She tilted her head, giving my another assessing once-over. “Kinda curious how I’d stack up.”

"Well, I just blew another monster load in Nami and also just went through the most stressful hour of my life. Don't think I feel like getting it up. But I guess I don't mind the thought of you getting to know every inch of my dick with your pretty mouth..."

Desire's smirk widened slightly at that, a knowing gleam in her sharp blue eyes as she dragged her pipe slowly through the deep valley of her tits, the rounded tip popping free like she was already imagining something else there instead.

"Yeah?" she murmured, tilting her head, gaze flicking down once, "Too worn out to put in real work, huh? Guess that makes sense. You did just breed a bitch silly."

I snorted, "Twice."

Desire chuckled, shifting her weight slightly, her tits jiggling from the motion. "Twice. Damn, boss, no wonder you’re spent." She rolled her pipe between her fingers again, considering. "But you don't mind me getting a taste, huh?"

I let his head thump back against the wall, exhaling heavily. "Yeah, yeah. Knock yourself out."

She didn't hesitate.

The sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh filled the shop, a vulgar, steady rhythm of grunts and moans behind her.

Barto was going at it, his big hands gripping the plump, sweaty ass of the merchant as he hammered into her, his sharp teeth bared in a twisted grin. The woman beneath him was squealing, her fat, motherly body jiggling under the **** of his thrusts, begging for it even as her wedding ring gleamed on her shaking fingers.

And that nasty freak was eating it up.

Desire didn’t even have to look to know Barto was getting off on the whole thing.
He loved taking another man’s mess.

Sloppy seconds? Fucking perfect.

Any hole in a storm? Even better.

Desire felt the vibration of his ragged breaths behind her, the way the tempo of his thrusts shifted, becoming deeper, more frantic as he fucked into the used hole with all the eagerness of a man who had zero shame and too much energy to burn.

It was disgusting.

It was so Barto.

And it barely even registered because this—

This fat fucking cock in her mouth—

Was her entire focus.

Desire moaned low in her throat, feeling the way Tsujo twitched on her tongue, his soft, heavy length still filling her mouth, stretching her lips.

Even limp, it was a beast.

A two-handed sub, thick and dense, her fingers barely wrapping around the base.

She had to work her jaw wider just to take the whole head past her lips, the swollen, uncut flesh rubbing against the roof of her mouth as she savored the weight of it.
Goddamn.

Even soft, this thing had her reconsidering everything.

She dragged her tongue along the underside, slow, deliberate, tracing the thick veins as she sucked gently, getting to know it.

His scent was thick—sweat, sex, man—and that obscene musk from earlier still lingered, heavy with the mix of his own sweat and that redhead’s juices.

It was filthy.

It was perfect.

Her fingers tightened around the base, stroking as she worshiped it with her mouth, slow, methodical, taking her time.

She had never sucked a cock soft before.

She wasn’t the kind of bitch to nurture a man’s dick.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just sucking cock.

This was paying respects to a monster.

Her mouth moved lower, taking him in deeper, cheeks hollowing just slightly to apply pressure, her tongue dragging along the length, mapping out every inch, every ridge, every pulse of muscle beneath the skin.

Tsujo groaned above her, a heavy hand landing on the back of her head, fingers curling into her messy red hair—not pushing, not forcing, just holding.
Like he knew she wanted this.

Like he knew she was gonna take her time.

Behind her, Barto let out a loud, gravelly groan, the sound of his hips slapping against fat thighs growing sloppier, wetter, more erratic.

“Ffffuck—shit, this—this bitch is fuckin’ squeezin’ me, boss—” he grunted, his voice a harsh rasp of pleasure, the merchant’s moans turning into high-pitched whimpers beneath him.

Desire exhaled through her nose, her grip tightening slightly as she felt the shift in weight, the subtle pulse beneath her fingers.

No way.

Already?

She knew men who couldn’t get it up again for a solid hour after they unloaded--

But this guy?

Her boss for the day?

The wiry, seemingly normal bastard who had no business being attached to a thing like this?

He was getting hard again.

She felt it before she saw it, the thick flesh growing, thickening against her tongue, twitching like a living thing, like a serpent slowly uncoiling.

And then—

It lifted.

A slow, deliberate movement, rising from where it had rested against her palm, levering itself upward like a goddamn building under construction, stiffening into a downward-slanted club of pure, throbbing flesh.

It was absurd.

She had already known he had the length—had seen it swinging between his legs like a third limb, felt the sheer weight of it in her hands.

But this?

This beast wasn’t just long.
It was dense.

It defied gravity, hanging thick and heavy, still not fully upright, but close, like it was preparing for something.

Like it was waiting.

She released a slow breath, her hands trailing lower, her fingers grazing the skin beneath his cock, the massive flesh satchel that had been caught in the tight space between his thighs.

And fuck.

That was just as obscene.

His balls weren’t just big—they were grotesquely big, swollen in their loose, thick-skinned sac, hanging unevenly like a goddamn pair of grapefruits.

One was squashed slightly higher, caught awkwardly between his thighs, while the other drooped lower, resting against her palm with an animalistic heat.

It was the kind of sheer breeding set she’d expect on some studded-out stallion, not a lean-built bastard who didn’t look like he should be carrying around something that belonged on livestock.

But here it was.

Attached to this guy.

This normal-seeming idiot who—now that she really thought about it—had wandered into town, dicked down a pirate, fucked a married shopkeeper, and was now casually getting his cock worshiped by her while her seven-foot-tall freak of a best friend railed a fat slut in the background.

Maybe this was just his life.

Maybe he really did spend his time wandering from island to island, just… fucking hot women.

She flicked her gaze back up to his face, taking in his lazy, self-satisfied smirk, the way he watched her like he already knew she was gonna be his soon.

A slow, wicked grin curled at the edges of her lips.

Yeah.

She was definitely looking forward to her big-dickgasm.

Desire let out a slow breath through her nose, rolling her jaw as she glanced up at him, fingers still lazily stroking along the absurd weight of his cock. He was way more than eleven inches, twitching against her palm, heavy as her goddamn lead pipe, but his expression was done. Tired. Sated.

And then, just like that, he pulled her up.

She let out a small noise of protest, more from surprise than anything else, blinking as she found herself suddenly upright, that monstrous cock slipping from her fingers.

“The fuck?” she muttered, blinking up at him.

Tsujo just sighed, rolling his shoulders, his grip finding her waist before sliding down, fingers taking possession of her ass like it belonged to him.

And honestly?

She didn’t mind.

“You'll get your pay,” he muttered, rubbing at his face with his free hand, then letting it drop with a tired smirk. “That’s it for now.”

Desire let out a short snort, shifting into his grip, pressing herself against him as if testing his resolve. Her full, heavy tits squished into his chest, her thigh brushing against the still weighty length of him, and she grinned when she felt him twitch.

Still had something left in the tank, huh?

But, despite the reaction, he just smirked, his hold firm on her ass, keeping her close but making it clear he wasn’t about to entertain her just yet.

Fucking all man about it, making her wait with that same cocky confidence that had let him just waltz into Loguetown and take whatever the fuck he wanted.

Her pussy clenched, frustrated but impressed.

Yeah. She could wait.

Didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease.

She exhaled through her nose, letting her weight settle against him, her head finding his shoulder as she settled into the easy comfort of it, her body half-draped over his as she turned her eyes toward Barto.

It wasn’t something she was used to, but—

This?

This was the optimal spot for a bodyguard-slut.

Let the men handle their business.

She could play the role of arm-candy just fine.

And fuck, what a view.

Her sharp eyes followed the steady roll of Barto’s hips, the lazy but determined grind of his cock into the shopkeeper’s sloppy, well-used pussy. His hands gripped her thick thighs, holding her steady as he steadily rutted away, his lean but muscular back flexing as he worked himself to completion.

She knew that rhythm.

Had felt those same sharp, persistent thrusts, the way he ground himself against a bitch like he was trying to make up for what he lacked in raw size.

Barto wasn’t bad.

Not good, either.

Just... fine.

But with the kind of fat monster cock she was pressed against right now?

Yeah.

It was no comparison.

Desire huffed, watching the divots appear and disappear in Barto’s ass as he worked, remembering her own time beneath those same hips, his barely better than average dick trying its damnedest to fuck her properly.

Didn’t even come close to what she needed.

Didn’t even register on the same scale as what she was holding just minutes ago.

She smirked, exhaling slow against Tsujo’s throat.

Yeah.

She could wait.

But when it was her turn?

She was gonna ride that fat cock until she got everything she deserved.

Desire watched as Barto let out a low, guttural groan, his sharp teeth bared in a wicked grin as he pulled out, his slick, flushed cock twitching in his grip. The fat shopkeeper let out a small whimper at the sudden emptiness, her hips still rolling lazily, her cunt still needy even after taking two different dicks.

Barto wasted no time.

Fist wrapped tight around his juice-slick shaft, he stroked himself with sharp, practiced motions, his breathing ragged as he angled himself over her thick, upturned ass.

Desire could see the moment it hit him—that sharp, electric jolt of pleasure that ran up his spine as he grunted, his body tensing.

And then, with a final, shuddering exhale—

Thick, hot ropes of cum splattered onto the woman’s plush asscheeks, painting her soft flesh in sticky white streaks.

Barto sighed, giving his cock a few lazy, lingering strokes, smearing the last of his release over her skin before giving her ass a hard, appreciative slap.

“Good girl,” he muttered, voice still thick with satisfaction.

The shopkeeper just let out a weak, breathy moan, her body still trembling, her face pressed into the counter, completely spent.

Desire smirked, shifting against Tsujo’s side, her fingers idly tracing along his abdomen as she murmured, “You hiring long-term, boss?”

Because after that show, and with that massive cock pressed against her, she definitely wasn’t going anywhere just yet.