"So we usually stay in Discordia Hotel but live in the Beach House in the summer?"
"Yes," was the patient reply Winston afforded to his foster daughter as they had dinner together in their Beach House suite.
"Why?" And before he could answer, Mariya had already begun asking another question.
"Why is Lili my mother but Sasha is the one that calls you 'hubby'? Is this one of those polyamogu-"
"Polyamorous," came her father's gentle correction.
"Yes, one of those, and isn't that a bit unusual?"
"Not in EroF- stop asking questions!"
"Why is there a pair of lips in the sky?"
"Okay," Winston laid down his cutlery and rose from the table, brushing his clothes with his hands, figuratively and literally dusting his hands of the issue.
"We will discuss this later," he said firmly, before turning to leave.
"But mama Sasha is still cooking!"
"This is precisely why I'm running away to work."
"But you said we came here for a summer retreat!" Mariya pouted as Winston beat a hasty retreat. She huffed. Where was he going? Why doesn't he ever answer her questions?
What was he up to?
"THIS IS HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER," Winston yelled-sang in his car, throwing his arms up and down to the beat while stepping on the gas.
They say you can't run away from problems, whoever they are. In any case, they would be right — which was why Winston drove away from them instead. It had all seemed to simple back in the EroHospital...
Adopt a lost bot and raise her as your own, give it a family, a home, and keep her as straight-laced as possible and as far away from the lewdity of the City as one is able to be.
Had it always been this complicated? He could remember when there were two game towers, and the shabby help desk that couldn't fix passwords. It was barely a city back then, but as more and more people came and multiplied, so did the buildings.
Winston's red blur of a car came to a stop at a traffic light, and he found himself deep inside EroFights City, a land of soft neon lights and lucky people out to get even luckier.
It was all too familiar, yet all too different. It was a bustling city like none he had ever seen before. Blink, and you'll have missed 5 new developments in the City. It all changes far too rapidly.
Startled out of his reverie, he jumped in his seat and saw Foxy waving at him in the middle of the crossing. Smiling, Winston gave a friendly honk with his car and flashed his headlights before waving back at the Kitsune, who happily skipped off in the direction of the Hentai Game Tower across the street.
A few more people that he knew waved and blew kisses at him as they crossed. He could only smile. The City always remembers and welcomes its own.
Some things at least, don't change.
The traffic light blinked green and making a snap decision, Winston guided Christine down a familiar road to Classic Tower.
Letting the valet take his car to the parking lot, he entered the lobby of the tower, tapping a fingernail at the front desk and crooking his finger at the attendant, who handed him his ticket.
Winston barely gave the ticket a cursory look. He didn't care for ticket numbers anymore, now knowing that it mattered little. Someone will pick him up or someone would not.
Whistling idly, he plopped himself into an armchair in the lounge, nodding at the others clustered around, waiting for their turn, letting the conversation wash over him.
"I've been waiting for hours..."
"She's so hot, I should send her a photo of my dick..."
"I'll figure out an avatar later lol"
Before he could even catch a waitress' eye, one had already set down an iced latte for him, touching his shoulder affectionately before going off again. Sipping his drink quietly, our hero takes this quiet moment to bask in the quietly lavish and understated opulence of the Tower.
This was the oldest Game Tower in the City, and consequently also the oldest building with the largest amount of patrons. That hasn't changed, at least, despite there being not two, but eleven Game Towers in the City.
Sometimes, or perhaps all the time, people just want a straightforward fuck.
Winston stood bolt upright...and so did Little Winston. The Pavlovian effect of the EF bell too well-embedded in his psyche to ever shake off.
Nodding at the various men and women (and a few blue and red blobs) still waiting in the lounge for their turn, Winston took the elevator up to his assigned room...
A voice erupts loudly behind him as he shuts the door and walks into the room, setting his hair on end.
Summoning whatever left of his composure that hadn't taken flight, Winston bit down a yelp and simply turned and replied.
The air was knocked out of him as the world slowed down. He felt his legs leave the richly carpeted floor and soar through the air, landing softly on the massive bed that dominated the room.
"Aha! I got you now!"
He felt his hands being pinned wide by strong hands. His legs were being sat on while his entire vision revolved around a delightful view of cleavage, enclosed in some kind of brown leather corset, no doubt weathered to give it that well-worn fashion look.
Still gasping for breath, Winston's mind was left reeling in the wake of all this action. He dimly remembered a flying kick straight into his belly, a flash of red in the darkness....
He looked up (reluctantly) past the cleavage and up into his assailant's face. The red highlights adorning those brown locks felt oddly familiar...a few awkward moments passed as they looked into each other's eyes, unsure on how to proceed from here.
"Oh! You're Alya, aren't you?"
"Heard of me, huh? I must be getting famous..."
"No...we've met at the Beach House. You handed me the love letter the other day?"
"Aha! I got you now!" She tore at Winston's shirt roughly, popping the buttons and exposing his chest, before bending over and biting him on the neck, hard.
She clawed at him, fingers frantically trying to strip him and scratch his body at the same time. For a moment, all Winston could do was stiffen up — in every sense of the word — and let it happen.
In several breathless moments, he was at her mercy, naked underneath her, cock resting against her belly as she had her rough way with him, biting, grasping and raking across his body.
She would be tall, Winston thought, if she was on her feet at the moment. Her legs were muscled and her belly — whatever he could see from the rabid chaotic mess on top of him — was toned.
Her legs clamped on to his sides painfully, but not unpleasantly, as she scrabbled about, tearing, tugging and pulling at his clothes. The initial shock wearing off, Winston merely smiled and settled in on the bed, letting her strip him naked.
Yanking down Winston's pants and freeing his hard cock with a lewd plop sound, Alya started grinding against the tip, rubbing it with the folds of her pussy as she whispered into his ear:
"Already so hard for me? This will be easy..."
Raking her fingernails across his chest, Alya impaled herself on Winston's hard-on, moaning out loud even as her victim yelped in pain. Revelling in her dominance, she rode him hard and fast, confident in her victory already, and for a moment, nothing more could be heard in the room but their lustful moans and the bed shaking underneath them with every bounce of Alya's hips.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you in awe of a goddess?"
Winston smiled, reached up, and pulled her down to him, and took her in a sweet, intimate kiss.
A confused moan, followed by a frantic scramble to pull away, only to find her world turned upside down, suddenly on her back and pinned down by Winston's body on top of hers. Breaking the kiss, he held her hands in his, lacing their fingers together.
"Goddess, indeed," Winston said from his new vantage position, each word dripping with sarcasm. He thrusted forward, knocking her contemptuous reply out of her mouth and forcing her to moan submissively instead.
Being kissed all over by Winston, she found herself blushing. First she tried to push him off but with every straightforward thrust, every infuriating murmur of "my pretty little goddess", every sweet kiss on her lips and cheeks, her body betrays her, and instead of pushing back, her arms and legs clung to him as he made love to her, the gentle intimacy of it all making it hard for her to think.
"Unfortunately for you, my sweet goddess, you've found your high priest. And there's nothing a religious man knows best than the missionary position for the express purpose of procreation."
Procreat...? She wanted it. She wanted it. She WANTED IT! Who is this man, who is this weird-oh!
Whimpering weakly, she opened her mouth in a silent scream as her orgasm wracked across her in an inexorable current at the thought of it, and a few moments later her opponent-turned-lover obliged by giving her what she craved: his seed pumped inside her.
When she came to, all she could see was Winston's smug face, smiling down at her.
"Well then, goddess, that was rather pleasant, now wasn't it?"
Alya narrowed her eyes at him in an attempt to conceal her embarrassment at being so easily overpowered by such an obviously goofy weirdo. She pushed at his chest in disgust.
"I do have a cheating fetish...do you have a boyfriend?" She felt him get hard, cock rubbing against her stomach. God...
"You...go away!" Alya pushed again, but he wouldn't budge.
"Right you are, goddess...just as soon as you unlock those legs from around my waist..."