Bikini Isekai: Bikini Roommates 1

It all started with Danny getting utterly killed by a semi. Since then, he has been having the time of his afterlife working for Candy, the Muse of Raunchy Sex Comedies. His prior missions of boobs and bombast have come to an end, and this is a new one. You can treat this as a standalone series, though you might miss a running bit or two.

This next tale lends itself well to being broken into chapters. I do hope you have fun with it.

Bikini Isekai: Bikini Roommates 1

FADE TO WHITE

Finding myself in the formless whiteness of Candy's domain, I was pissed the last adventure had ended so soon. I spun to see her smiling self-satisfiedly.

"Oh, come on!" I whined, more like a little girl than I wanted. "I didn't at least get an End Credits Montage of the Mexico trip?"

"Hmmm..." Candy murmured. "I should've thought of that."

"I am willing to go back for reshoots," I said earnestly.

"Ha! I'll bet you are," Candy snorted. "But no," she added, trying to sound sad. "The motes have all scattered. I can never reassemble them, even if I had all the time in the world."

The realization that all those women had just... stopped existing hurt a little inside, even though I had known from the beginning that none of them were truly real. "And I have got to get going on the next story soon, anyway," Candy went on briskly, sensing my momentary descent into gloom. "You just rest and hang out, Danny. Want to watch Co-Ed Confidential, from the old Cinemax?"

"And how did I entirely miss Prudence?" I went on, undeterred and still fixated on the just now ended adventure. Though come to think of it, a re-watch of Co-Ed Confidential did sound pretty good... "I thought I was getting the hang of resisting timeslips!" I complained.

"You are, Danny, and quicker than lots of Sparks do, I might add. You really are a prize." She smiled and took a step forward to emphasize her approval. I was here for that. Much as I had enjoyed the company of many unnaturally sexy women since I died, just being near Candy was a peak sexual experience all on its own. "You will continue to grow more skilled at preventing timeslips as you become more experienced. And you will even learn to trigger them yourself, should you so desire."

"But if I'm getting so good at time manipulation, how come things timeslipped so hard that I didn't even remember Prudence existing, much less the sex we apparently had?"

I should not have been so hung up on Prudence, but the situation had been so weird and so unlike any other experience. Also, she had seemed a fair amount older than most of the Pinkfit members, and she had rocked an intense MILF vibe when I had seen her there at the end...

"You didn't lose those memories to a timeslip," Candy corrected. "That was a cut."

"Huh? What's that? And why?"

She sighed. "Look, Prudence was one kinky little mote of soul dust. What you two got up to absolutely nuked its way through the content filter, and I had to cut the whole sub-plot."

Whoa. Now I was regretting this even more. "What is it with this content filter thing, anyway?" I grumped.

Candy sighed. "Look, a lot of us Muses who focus on sexy stories have an agreement, more of a treaty, really, with all the Johns... the porn Muses. We non-Johns have to keep a lid on things, to some extent. Don't ever expect to find yourself with a hard-on out in the open, for instance. We have to pretend those things don't exist, unless it is funny or scary. And we can't show them, even then. The profanity you can use is era-based and can never be all that explicit. Sex can be great, should be great, but always needs to be engaged in so that the narrative view can at least pretend it is suggestive instead of blatant."

She sighed. "And that means that some sex acts are just off the table for inspirations shepherded by we non-Johns. Acts like all the tittyhumping that Prudence was so fixated on having fun with, for instance. There is just no way for characters to do stuff like that without triggering a treaty violation for overt porniness. Prudence was insistent, and you were fighting the timeslip mechanism to the best of your already considerable ability, so you two just got fully jiggy with it. I had to give up and cut the whole subplot."

The fact that Candy absently stroked the inside of her breast (which rested in yet another amazing bikini) while talking about screwing tits almost made me come on the spot, despite not even being hard yet.

I did bite my knuckle.

"Yeah," Candy observed drily. "You were definitely all-in on putting your dick between those titties. Listen," she went on sultrily, "if doing that is really that important to you, I suppose I could see my way to helping you out..."

I was about to die. Figuratively, I mean. Been there, done that. But this? With Candy?

"If you are a very good boy for a few more stories, I will go ahead and lend you to John, the Muse of Tittyfucking Porn, for a round."

I wanted to scream in agony. I had let myself hope! But wait, honestly, such a loan sounded pretty good, too...

"Wait? You just said Tittyfu..." My words choked off. "I mean, Fu... I can't say it! Even here!"

"What? The F-word? Even I can't use it," Candy snorted.

"You just did!"

"No, I just called that John by his proper, given name."

I rolled my eyes. This 'Treaty' was psycho. Immortals were incomprehensible.

"And what do you and the other sex, er, erotic Muses get out of this treaty with the Porn Muses?" I asked, curious, despite the psychosis of it all.

"The Johns' narratives all have to be stupid, incoherent, boring, illogical, offensive, criminally simplistic, or gross. And most have to be either a combination of several of those, or have no story at all."

"And that prohibition helps you guys how?"

"Look, Danny, I know that you are well aware that there is a lot of porn in the universe. We Muses who inspire sexy stories that are not porn are always in danger of being swamped. Our competitive advantage is that our stories have entertainment value beyond the sex, right? But a lot of us, myself especially, got lazy with that protection, and our tales withered because we didn't work hard enough. You are helping me bring back funny softcore sexy times, Danny. Let's keep it up." She turned away.

I had no time to enjoy the newly presented view that her turn provided, because everything faded to indistinct white for an indistinct period of time. Candy's personally imposed timeslips were irresistible.

When things solidified again into shadowless, featureless white, I wasn't sure what entertainment I'd enjoyed watching while Candy was off inspiring, or assembling, or creating, or whatevering her next story, but I was quite sure I had enjoyed it. She had the complete catalog of all comedy nudity from movies and cable at my disposal, and I was certain that I had once more gotten to watch whatever I had from within the story, rather than just on a screen...

I heard the echoing click of heels on a hard surface, and out of the whiteness strutted Candy, like a runway model. This time, she was dressed for what I thought of as present day, but in the highest fashion style, not a bikini. She wore a huge, beautiful white hat with a three-foot diameter brim and a four-inch navy band of color around the edge. It swept down jauntily, off center to the left. A pair of gold-framed sunglasses, probably Saint Laurent, rested on her face, little diamond highlights at her temples.

She wore a tight, white, upper thigh-length skirt with a slit up the right thigh and a wide gold belt. Her sharply tailored blue blazer swung unbuttoned. In the crook of her left elbow rested a Birkin Bag. (The Birkin Bag seemed out of place because it was not terribly sexy, but apparently even demigoddesses can get caught up in the hype.) Her legs, of course, needed no hosiery, but her feet walked in ethereally high, black patent leather pumps with elegantly pointed toes.

Oh, and she had nothing on under the jacket but an elegant white bikini top. A gold chain dangled a huge sapphire down between the best breasts in the pantheon.

"Hey, Danny," she said, stopping and posing in front of me. My Muse could pose, and in those shoes, she could really pose.

"Time to saddle up?" I asked, ready for another 'job'.

She just smiled.

FADE TO WHITE

I found myself standing in a swimwear and beach products shop. Only this time, unlike the rustic kind of bikini store I was used to from prior adventures, this store was a modern luxury goods emporium, with high ceilings, intense halogen lights, and shelves and fixtures in white and chrome. No one but me and a very attractive girl my age were in the store, and we both stood by the door. I had keys in my hands.

"See you tomorrow, Danny!" she said collegially. "I come in at noon, and unless we are swamped, you can get out early and have your afternoon free."

"Thanks, Emma," I replied as she stepped out the door ahead of me.

So her name is Emma, I thought as I locked the glass doors. Emma waved goodbye, then added as she turned away, "Wally is taking me out to Rum Pirate tonight, so do not expect me to be in one second before noon," she called excitedly in parting.

I watched as she departed down the sidewalk. The sheer wrap around her waist with an uneven hemline that was up to mid-thigh on her left side, but slanted down to the knee on her right, flowed smoothly over an ass I instantly knew I'd been trying not to worship since we had started working together. As my gaze lingered, I could see why that had been difficult. The green wrap was matched in color by the bikini top she had on, covering what I knew were some sveltely amazing breasts, even though they were facing away from me as she wafted happily away.

So.

I had a crush on my co-worker, but she had a boyfriend whom she was really into, and worse, who seemed to treat her right.

Great.

Was this to be my story this time? The hapless dude in the Friend Zone? I could probably get out of there eventually, if I put my back into it. This was a Raunchy Sex Comedy, after all. Or was my attraction just incidental? Maybe I was just attracted to her to help establish how sexy she was, but she would have some other plot function? If so, I would have other women to enjoy, and other things to look out for.

I shook my head. Don't get ahead of yourself, Danny. You are supposed to live this story, not try to write it.

The simple facts of the matter were, I liked Emma; as a coworker, as a friend, and definitely, but not intently, as a potential partner. I needed to just let the story play out and quit being so meta.

I told you that you were going to be a great Spark!

Wow, Candy. I wasn't even thinking about you just now, and you still heard me?

First of all, I'm hurt that you weren't thinking about me. But I told you, as you get better at this, and my powers strengthen in turn, our ability to communicate will just grow as one of the natural results of our increased abilities.

Swell. I really did not need Candy being able to read every thought I had about her...

I took in my surroundings.

Huh. I'd been here before, when I had been alive. Sort of.

This was clearly Miami Beach, South Beach to be precise. Or it was supposed to be. Emma's and my store was on the street that ran between the beach and the ritziest Art Deco hotels. The real Miami Beach is a sort of caricature of itself, and this place I now found myself inhabiting was a caricature of that caricature, fully incorporating all the classic tropes I'd come to expect.

Everybody, as usual, seemed young, though this time around 'young' seemed to extend to the early thirties. There were also a number of older dudes with stunning tans and gold chains who sported better hairlines in their fifties and sixties than I had when I'd died at barely 42. Each had either one or two regulation hotties hanging off them.

The cars were all up to date, and most were gleaming six-figure rides.

Everything was spotless, so I knew it was not the real South Beach.

But this was a modern-day environment, compared to even the Bikini Gym story.

iPhones were everywhere, usually being held up in people's faces as they walked down the beach or sidewalk. And I do mean iPhones. Every single one was carried without a case, so you could clearly see the Apple logo prominently displayed wherever you looked.

There is product placement in inspirations, I asked myself incredulously.

Sort of. There are a variety of reasons for it, none of which need concern you, Candy told me tartly. Was there a note of guilt in her voice?

There is not.

There was.

Clothes and hairstyles were almost all 2025 vintage (though a few anachronisms snuck in, and somehow looked completely at home doing so). Any ambient music was largely Hispanic/Cuban. There were even a few chain stores to be seen, including a Raising Cane's that I could see through the window had a live DJ working inside while it was still broad daylight. People were dancing... in a fast food restaurant.

All the women were, as I expected and appreciated, hot, though there was definitely the largest variety of hotness I had yet encountered in a Candy production. Most of the female passersby wore bikinis, even off the beach, with no cover-ups beyond perhaps a sheer mesh wrap around their waists. And most women had on high heels, even on the beach! I almost had to laugh at that!

Personally, I actually found something to be disappointed in about the women. A large percentage had that Kim Kardashian mega-booty look going. Not my thing.

But let's get real, overall, the scenery was amazing.

Another vibe shift that made this environment feel fresh, while remaining the same down deep, was that these women did not wander around casually, just happily drinking in life, like the Cali girls of Bikini Detailing 1 and 2. These women strutted about like fashion models, owning the space around themselves, and often seeming on a mission, even if that mission was to just have fun.

I heard local talk radio playing. The talk jock was expounding on the current South Beach crisis related to Hidin' Harry, some suddenly notorious Peeping Tom.

Oh wow. That certainly wasn't going to become a recurring bit...

I wondered if I would ever see any of that bit personally, though. It seemed like one of those background color bits that protagonists never got much involved in, but were there to trigger something happening in the background or in a subplot. Or just to work in some more nudity during a part of the story that had little otherwise... At first, I did not understand where the voice was coming from, because who under 30 listens to talk radio? And who listens to anything without their earbuds? But then I realized the radio voice was just an expositional device.

Great, I'd be listening to talk radio my whole time here...

I wondered where I lived, and found that information easily to hand in my mind. Nice. No scavenger hunt to find my own home this time around. My feet turned automatically left. I walked and took another left, and soon I entered the hall of the small, 30s-era building that held my apartment, which took up the whole of the first floor. It was a small building.

I realized I was benefitting from another trope, or perhaps a trope corollary: The World Belongs to The Young... And The Young Can Somehow Afford It. (Cf. Friends 1994-2004)

I sauntered through our front door and found myself surprised to see all three of my roommates were home before me. One or two was normal, but I was seldom the last one home, since I worked the closest.

Three dudes. Hans, our German roomie, was in the States working for some Munich multinational. Rico, my buddy from college, had masterminded the two of us coming to live in Miami in the first place. And Don. Don was gay, and in no way closeted. But neither was he out. He just... was. There were no rainbow flags in his room, there was no interest in Pride Month activities, and he dressed exactly like the rest of us. He was so casual and matter-of-fact about his sexual orientation that I did not even notice it at first. He even hit on me the first week he moved in, and I thought it was just a pretty good joke. Then, three weeks later, he brought a hunky date back to make noise in his room, and I realized the 'joke' had been on me.

We all hung out together a lot, and as that knowledge came into my mind, I became internally excited to have that Troop of Buddies trope to try out this time around. I had vague supplied memories of some epic shenanigans the four of us had gotten up to in the past. Even Don was in the mix of activities with us most of the time, and was just as happy to talk about the hot women we saw as the rest of us. Once I figured out he was gay, I realized that he was being catty, not thirsty. But he made for an awesome wingman at times.

"What up, dogs?" I asked, flipping my keys into my dish by the door.

"We haff ein prrroblem," Hans said, hesitantly. Whoa. It must be a big problem. Hans's English was always accentless. And he was never hesitant. I frowned at him.

"I am to be transferred back to Munich," Hans said, suddenly sounding like he was from Connecticut once more. "It is a big promotion, though I feel like going back to German winters is a reduction in pay." We all laughed quickly. "But it means that I must be removed from the lease," he added, looking at me.

This sucked. Hans was cool. A great roommate, and moreover, a great friend. I looked at Don and Rico.

"It gets worse," Rico said. "I gotta slide too, bro."

"What?"

"Uncle Juan and Mama got in a fight, and she don't want him running the store no more, which... good on her. Uncle Juan is a little shady. But it means I gotta move back up there 'cause she can't be runnin' that place on her own!"

"Rico! Dude!" I was appalled.

"At least this all came down now. If it had happened next week, our lease would have renewed, and we would all be screwed," Don said, surprisingly happy.

"You are glad they are leaving?" I asked him, not feeling happy at all about any of this.

"No, but, um, it does mean that I can move out too," Don said, beginning to sense that I was a lot more upset about this than they had thought I would be. And they had all clearly expected me to be upset.

"Where are you going? Dead grandmother?" I snapped before I could consider the possibility that maybe his grandmother had died.

"I've been thinking about moving in with Kurt and Wendy," Don said. He shrugged. "This seemed to be the perfect opportunity to take them up on their offer."

"Who are Kurt and Wendy?" Rico asked.

"Huh? You guys know Kurt." We knew a Kurt. He was a regular overnight visitor in Don's room. "Wendy's his girlfriend."

"Your boyfriend hast ein girlfrrriend?" Hans blurted.

"Well, lately it has been more like we both have the same girlfriend," Don said.

"Since when are you into girls?" I snapped.

"Since always. I've just always been into guys a whole lot more," Don shrugged. "Wendy's been re-aligning my priorities a little, to be honest. But not that much. Kurt is one heck of a stud."

Kurt and Rico were getting sidetracked by Don's Sudden Onset Bisexuality Syndrome, but I was having none of it. "The lease, guys!"

They looked at me and had the good graces to look at least a little sheepish. "At least you won't be stuck with early termination fees along with the rest of us," Hans said apologetically. "And we will have a full month to get our stuff moved out."

"We'll help you find a new place too, bro!" Rico added.

"Like hell!" I shouted. "I don't want to move. I am three blocks from the beach and only five blocks from my job! I'll renew the damned lease myself."

"Dude, you get paid well, but this place is expensive for the four of us combined..."

"I'll find new roommates," I said determinedly. "They won't be as cool as you three faithless douchebags, but I am not giving up this apartment!"

But three weeks later, as the first rent with just my name on the lease was looming, I still had no replacements to fill any of those other three, expensive rooms. The rent was high, I'll admit. And the applicants I'd seen so far? Every guy was either an obvious deadbeat or just a tool.

I had savings. I could cover the rent all by myself for a while. If I liked Ramen...

The bell to the apartment rang, signaling that the applicant who had texted me earlier had arrived. I opened the door, and when I saw the person at the door, I tried not to shake my head.

I guess that I had not specified I was looking for dudes. But I'd been very clear that I was a single male, and no woman had so much as inquired about the apartment before now. But I needed at least one room rented out, stat.

And if I were going to make an exception for a woman, this one would do. Nicely.

"Hi, I'm Vanessa," the middling height applicant with short black hair in a pageboy cut said, stepping into the apartment. She shook my hand in business-like fashion, but her hand was astoundingly soft. Lots of things about her looked soft. "This is very nice!" she said, her almost purple-colored eyes brightening as she looked past me into the apartment.

She walked in a slow circle around the living room, nodding in further approval. Vanessa was crazy hot. She wore Miami chic casual clothes, the kind you saw being worn around during the day by upper management types, real estate power agents, and rich Europeans out shopping, or worn at night by women who were going out to a fine restaurant instead of clubbing: short dress skirt, a flowing silk blouse in gold, and three-inch heels that she maneuvered in like they were flats. The front of her high-collared, shiny blouse promised one heckuva rack within, and the sleek calves that were exposed below her skirt's hem were just so perfectly formed...

"Can't beat the location, and the building looks great inside and out," she went on approvingly, to herself more than to me. "And you clearly keep things clean. I'll do the same. Can you show me which room is available?" she asked, handing me a sheaf of paper as she did so.

I looked at the papers, puzzled. "Bank statements, a credit check, and a letter of recommendation from my current landlady. She loves me," Vanessa added confidently. "She runs a wonderful, quiet building. I just want a better location."

"Uh, sure. I have all three rooms still available," I told her, stepping toward the hallway.

She looked at me directly for the first time. "Maybe I need a credit check on you. Are you going to make rent with only one sub-lessee?"

I appreciated the businesslike attitude. "I can swing it," I grinned ruefully. "I won't be able to go out much to party for a while, until I get some fellow tenants, but you will not have to worry about my landlord coming after me."

"Good," Vanessa said and peeked into all three rooms. "I'll take the one away from the morning sun," she said, as if this was all a done deal.

I guessed it was. I mean, we had already spent too much time, for a Raunchy Sex Comedy, talking about credit checks. She seemed responsible. She could pay. And she was ludicrously hot. If I turned her down, Candy might step on my dick.

Bet your ass I would.

"Deal," I said, and we signed the papers. She handed over cash for the entire first and last month's rent and the deposit! In $100 bills.

"Sorry about all the cash," Vanessa said, as she rose and headed out the door to pack up her old place. "It's just easier for me than going through all the hassle and record-keeping of depositing it, then writing a check."

"I sense you will be great to do business with, Vanessa," I said, meaning it.

She hadn't given me any employment records, and her application said independent contractor... But she thankfully did not give off a drug dealer vibe, even with that wad of hundreds she had just shoved in my hand.

Of course! I realized as I held the door for her that she was a cocktail waitress at some super high-end club I could never get into, here or probably downtown. Her surety on heels, the sharp way she dressed, and her desire for a dark room in the mornings indicated a night job, and the assumption that she was going to get exactly what she wanted just clinched things. That, and obscene amounts of cash from tips she'd rather launder than claim on her taxes.

"You didn't say where you work," I called, as she stepped down the hall toward the elevator. "Oh, sorry," she called back matter-of-factly. "I dance at Nine Belles. I'll see you tomorrow with my boxes." The door squeaked, and she disappeared.

Oh.

My implanted memories supplied me with the reputation of Nine Bells. I had just signed up a stripper as a roommate.

I told Emma about it as soon as she rolled into the shop the next day. It seemed natural for me to talk to her that way.

Oops. Bragging about your new stripper roommate to a girl you were sort of interested in was a mistake. Bragging about it to your buddy who is a semi-professional shit disturber was a bigger one...

"Oooh," she teased me. "How is she paying her rent, Danny?" she asked with all the innuendo she could muster.

"In cash," I snorted, and showed her the three or four hundos that I had kept back when I had deposited the rest in the bank on the way in that morning.

"Huh. On brand, I guess," Emma shrugged. Then she teased me again. "Ever seen her work?"

"I can't afford Nine Belles," I snorted.

Emma waved at the cash still in my hand. "Looks like you can right now!"

Our conversation probably hit fifty HR violations, but I was not worried. Emma and I ran the store together, like a well-oiled machine. Our actual manager oversaw three stores, and the other two were shitshows. We only saw him once in a blue moon. That could have been a toxic dynamic, but whenever he did show up, it was usually with a corporate higher up in tow, and he'd spend much of the time blowing our horns about how the two of us let him spend all his time on the stores that were the eternal problems.

We were a nationwide chain, but each store presented itself as a plucky independent to the public.

Internally, HR bothered people who were problems. Emma and I, and our motley assortment of seasonal part-timers, were never that. Emma was safe to make me miserable as much as she liked.

Vanessa turned out to be honestly a dream roommate, for the most part. She was clean and quiet. She worked late nights almost exclusively, though this would be subject to change, she warned. So I often didn't see her at all. And she cleaned up after herself in the kitchen better than any of my old gang ever had.

Better than me...

And while she disappointingly failed to install a pole when she moved in, she was usually pretty scenic when we did see each other.

I was at work when I got a text from some guy named Sam who wanted to look at the apartment that evening, early. We texted back and forth to set a time, and Sam forwarded me some application stuff.

When I got home, I ran into Vanessa. "Hey, listen," I said, "I've got another potential roommate coming in for an interview at 6:30. Would you stick around and help with the interview?"

"You want me there?" she asked, stopping and looking at me in mild surprise.

"Sure," I shrugged. "He'd be your roommate, too. You can tell me what you think." Then I shrugged and admitted, "Also, if he is going to be a skeeze about you, well, I'd like to know it in time to blackball his ass before I give him a room."

Vanessa looked at me harder. "I appreciate the consideration. I can take care of myself, but I'd rather not have to. I'll stick around, thanks."

It was the first time I felt she wasn't massively non-committal about me, and I liked it. I flushed even... a little. Vanessa was a good person, in addition to being hot.

There was nothing like the annoying crush I had on Emma, but I was attracted.

I snorted. I did not even know if I would have the slightest chance with Vanessa. I realized that I had not yet looked in a mirror or at my character sheet. The mirror was all the way in the bathroom, so I checked out the icon in my peripheral vision. The table of information about my character flowed into full view.

Name: Danny

Age: 27

Intelligence: 18

Height: 5' 11"

Build: Athletic

Cash: Tight. Only one roommate

Game: Decent

Hair: Blonde, High maintenance

Debuffs: None

Buffs: Trustworthy face

Virginity: Null

There was some new stuff here. The biggest relief was that I neither wore nor needed glasses!

About 6:30, Vanessa poured herself elegantly into position on the couch, and I went to answer the buzzer. I opened the door, and found myself staring at another female applicant!

Well now. She was certainly not a match for Vanessa's extravagant... upper curvature, but she might possibly be more than a match in most every other way. She was also dark-haired, though hers flowed and rested just lightly at her shoulders. She had an even better tan, and while Vanessa had no fat that she didn't want, Sam here was aggressively in shape.

She wore jeans that managed to seem comfortably businesslike while suggesting a powerfully toned ass, with legs to match. She had on a white button-down cotton shirt with a large, elaborate logo on one breast. Again, that breast was no match for Vanessa's, but it was hardly lacking.

Sam stepped in at my gesture, and Vanessa rose from the couch. "Hello there," she said, amused to see what Sam looked like.

Sam stopped dead on seeing Vanessa. "The ad didn't mention that I'd be rooming with a couple," she said unhappily.

Vanessa laughed lightly. "I'm just another roommate. Danny asked me to hang out for your interview, so we could find out if this dude 'Sam' was a perv. We want to blackball the guy if that's the case before he can sign anything." She shrugged. "Are you a pervy guy, Sam?"

"You should not make assumptions about people's sexuality," Sam replied, sounding a bit like an HR manual.

But Vanessa shrugged off the attitude and just laughed at the content. "Preach, sister. Especially here in Miami Beach! But my gaydar says you are pretty straight, so I'm gonna go ahead and vote yes, Danny, assuming your due diligence pans out," she said, turning to me amicably. Then she gathered up the gym bag she carried into work. It was large, though I suspected it was 10% clothing and 90% makeup and shoes, and Vanessa headed out with it over her shoulder.

That was weird, but I sensed that Sam was a little prickly, and Vanessa had just done more work to make her relax about taking a room than I could have in an hour if I were alone. The only question there was, did I want a prickly HR person living with us?

"What do you do for a living, Sam?" I asked politely, but with purpose.

"I'm an officer with Miami FD's Beach Safety division," Sam said, once more businesslike. Then she cracked the first smile I had seen, and I almost shoved a tenant's agreement at her the second I saw it. Holy cow, was it brilliant! "But that just means, in addition to my full shift on the beach, keeping Scandinavians from drowning, I also have to answer complaint calls about things like my fellow lifeguards not allowing Instagram influencers to climb up on our towers for selfies." I snorted. "I actually once took a complaint call from some squeaky wheel who was complaining about me not letting her climb my tower."

"Oh, wow!"

"Yeah. I promised to launch a Full Internal Investigation and speak to this problem lifeguard about her manners, while also noting that the caller was absolutely not frigging allowed to climb up on any of my towers," Sam remembered in amusement.

I handed over the agreement happily.

"So I got another roommate," I told Emma as we unboxed a shipment of new bikinis. "This one's a lifeguard."

"Bring him by," Emma snorted. "Lifeguards are hot."

"I thought you and Wally were an item," I asked in a teasing voice to cover my sudden interest.

"I'm in a relationship, I'm not dead," Emma laughed. "Why live in South Beach if you aren't going to look?"

"Well, she works on the beach about 400 yards from here, so I'll tell her to come in and let you indulge your prurient gaze," I taunted.

"Another girl? Danny, you operator!"

"Her name is Sam," I said defensively. "I didn't know she was a woman when she applied!"

"So, have you gone to the beach to see her in uniform yet?" Mandy kept on teasing. This was pretty weak sauce, actually. I had had a girlfriend about a year ago for all of a month, and Emma had ridden me like a prize pony the whole time. I escaped the rest of today's teasing by the good graces of a timeslip.

As a matter of fact, I lasted three whole days after she moved in before I went to the beach one morning during Sam's shift, but before mine at the shop. She, as I had expected, always wore the same bland, conservative styles around the apartment, so I had not had a chance to see exactly what kind of figure she really possessed. From the impressions I had, and given the nature of this world I was in, I suspected that she was pretty hot.

Very hot.

It had taken me a little while to find the tower where she worked, and I passed by several of her underlings. I was not surprised to find that they were all sexy, guys and girls alike. This was a Candy world, after all.

I am not sure what kind of working uniform real lifeguards wear in Miami, but I doubted they looked like these. The guys all wore Speedos, and had the bodies to carry that off. Did they all wax religiously, or did Candy's magic just make them naturally hairless?

The most workaday outfit on a woman I saw was baggy shorts and a tight, sports bra-style bikini top. Most others had bikinis in a variety of styling. Most of the suits gave at least a nod toward being secure enough in design to plausibly stay on during a rescue, but not all of them.

Sam herself had on a striking blue one-piece suit that should have looked boring. It was not. It was crazily high cut, well over the tops of her subtly flaring hips, and it managed to rock just enough cleavage and upper sideboob to be deniable about it. I'm in the swimsuit business, and I knew my stuff. Remove the lifeguard logo and add some silver accents in the right spots, and Sam's suit would get the most flashbulbs going off, if she were walking on a runway with nothing but bikinis around her. And Sam filled it out to perfection with a form that was every bit as athletic as I had suspected. Her muscles moved visibly but not blatantly beneath her tanned skin, her exposed hips exerted a gravitational pull on the twitching fingers I kept clasped firmly behind my back, and her breasts were distinct winners, just big enough to have given her turbulence issues back when she had been the competitive swimmer I knew she had to have once been.

I mean, really. She was a lifeguard boss? I'd never had a boss who was that hot, and I wondered what it was like for the hot dudes who worked for her. Was Sam going to have her own subplots going on? Was I going to get involved in them?

That afternoon, I found myself back at the shop, and there was a maelstrom of girls swirling around, holding up bikinis to their bodies, complimenting each other on bikinis, leaving the dressing room curtains open while trying on bikinis...

There was briefly a pair of twins in there with the curtain wide open, trading different bikini tops back and forth. I should have been inured to such sights by now, especially of anonymous extras, but that one had me frozen until Emma smacked the back of my head.

The music was far louder than we ever turned it up in the shop. And somehow simultaneously, I heard the talk jock speaking over it, reading ad copy for our store!

"It's high season, ladies, and time to up your beachwear game. Come down to South Beach Bikinis, 200 feet from the sand. SoBe Bikinis is having its annual Giant Teeny-Weeny Bikini Sale all this week!"

Ah. Montages were still a thing. Nice. I approved of Bikini Sale Mayhem Montage.

The music ended, the mayhem stopped, and the crowd vanished in an instant, dwindling to just a few ordinary customers.

Unlike other montages, though, the effects of the action remained after it was over. Mandy and I walked through the store, trying to clean up, both of us slightly dazed. Rejected bikinis were everywhere, including many hung all over both of us! Half of the discarded suits had a top lying on the end-cap of one aisle, while the bottoms were still on the hanger, but in a completely different aisle.

"Look at this," Mandy laughed. "Someone stripped the suit right off of Gertrude."

Gertrude was our jokey inside name for our feature bombshell manikin we usually kept in the window facing the sidewalk. Gertrude looked like it was sculpted using Bambi from Bikini Carwash 1 and 2 as the life model, so I usually avoided looking at it too much.

Too many memories.

Maybe I should look at Gertrude all the time, especially naked like she was now. (Even the nipples were true to Bambi's.) In many Raunchy Sex Comedies, doing that would bring my fantasy to life, and Candy could maybe bring Bambi back for a dream scene encore...

Not the way this works, Danny, I heard in my head.

Not really period-appropriate for this story anyway. Things felt more grounded in this one.

That too.

Sam wandered into the store shortly after things calmed, to find me standing at a rack, my left arm encrusted with stray bikini tops, my right busily sorting them back where they belonged.

"I doubt any of those will fit you, Danny," she observed mildly. Humor? From Sam? That was nice to see.

She would need it once whatever screwball side plot Candy had cooked up for her part of this little universe took off. She'd probably have to navigate some rash of wardrobe malfunctions among her staff.

Considering what I'd seen of her staff, once that started, I'd need to make sure I dropped by the beach more often...

"Har, har, Sam," I said in reply. "We had a flash mob in here earlier. Can I help you find a civilian suit? I've got some good ones."

Please, try on some bikinis. Please...

"Ha! I never go to the beach when I'm off duty," Sam snorted. "I stay in out of the sun and read." She clearly also went to the gym.

Emma wandered over curiously, and I introduced her to Sam. "So you are the second roommate?" my friend asked. "Not the first one he signed up?" There was a note of innuendo in her voice.

Sam heard it too. "He told you all about her?"

"He couldn't wait to," Emma giggled, shoving me playfully.

"I never thought I'd be sharing an apartment with a stripper," Sam mused.

"Romeo here is certainly stoked to be," Emma teased me again with another shove that was more poke in the ribs.

"I'm not stoked she's a stripper!" I denied hotly. "I'm just very glad that she never makes a mess, is quiet, and is a respectful person. Paying the rent on time, in cash, does not hurt either," I added loftily.

"So you aren't jealous?" Sam asked Emma as they both ignored my protest.

"Jealous? Hardly," Emma shrugged. "Danny and I aren't a thing. Except good friends," she added absently.

"Absolutely," I put in. Then I added, "And besides, Emma has a boyfriend, Wally."

I had no idea why both women seemed to arch their eyebrows at my adding that piece of confirmatory information.

Whatever. As far as I was concerned, it just put a lid on the whole thing and would end the teasing.

The next week, Vanessa's schedule changed. Now that it was high season, she decided that she could work fewer days, yet still 'make ends meet'. (Vanessa used the apartment's only parking space for her fully paid off vintage Jaguar.) This meant that for the first time, she was often around when I was in the apartment. The second day after the change in her schedule, I was already dressed for work, and Sam was doing office work on her laptop at the kitchen table.

I heard the water running through the pipes in the walls and knew Vanessa was taking a shower. I failed entirely in my attempt to not think too much about what that must look like...

Then I got an extremely good idea of what it looked like. The sound of water cut off, and she popped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her waist while drying her hair with another! She walked casually into the kitchen and went over to the toaster to drop in a couple of the high-fiber, low-carb toaster pastries she ate for breakfast.

I stood there like a poleaxed steer. How could those tits be better than I had even imagined? They were round, firm, and self-evidently very bouncy. Her nipples were a dark rosy brown and apparently liked to perk up when taken out for a breather in the open air. And those tits were very generously sized.

The best part was, since this was a Candy World, I absolutely knew that despite their size and general gravity-defying nature, they were absolutely real, with no touch of a surgeon.

I mean, they were the kind of tits you just wanted to grab ahold of and absolutely bury your... face between.

Damn content filters, even sanitizing my dirty inner monologue...

I just silently watched as Vanessa turned to head back out of the room, but then Sam finally looked up and yelped, "Vanessa!"

"What?"

"Really? No top?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes and turned to converse with Sam, doing nothing to hide the, um, subjects of the discussion. "Why would I bother? I'm inside. I'm just walking through for a minute. I'm too busy to throw anything on," she shrugged. I was becoming a huge fan of topless women shrugging... My ex-wife, on whom the look would not have been that bad either, had never shrugged. She was a woman of definite opinions...

"Uh, because I'm right here in the room?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Look," Vanessa said in a reasonable tone, not sounding confrontational in the least, but not sounding at all like she was going to back down either. "This is my home. If I can't be comfortable here, where can I? I'm late, as usual, and I get dressed and undressed so many times a day already, I don't bother with it when it isn't needed."

"But..." Sam sputtered.

Vanessa took a casual step toward her. Any guy would have been paralyzed by that sight coming toward them, but Sam just kept trying to speak.

"Look, Sam," Vanessa forestalled her. "You aren't even flinching when I walk toward you. You are way too hot to be intimidated by my body."

I was intimidated by that body.

"Of course, I'm not intimid..." Sam blustered. She clearly knew her body stood up just fine in comparison, but she still felt like she was supposed to disapprove for propriety's sake. "I... Look, Danny is right there, too!" she said, seizing on my presence desperately.

Vanessa shrugged and turned back toward the bathroom. "A hundred guys see me naked every night. Danny doesn't even have to pay, so I'm guessing he's gonna be fine with it. I haven't heard him complain once since I walked in here."

They both snorted at that.

But Sam pressed on. "Danny lives in the same apartment as you! He's here when you are asleep. Doesn't that make you uncomfortable to walk around like that?"

Vanessa turned back, bringing those tits back into full view. "Before I signed the lease, I satisfied myself that Danny was the kind of good guy that I was safe from. I don't have to worry about a guy like him losing control and turning into a lecherous wolf just because he sees a little skin."

I saw quite a lot of skin. Lightly tanned and taut, especially where it stretched tight over those mounds.

"Danny, what do you have to say about this?"

Seriously, they were some amazing breasts. They managed to look heavy, yet simultaneously as if they were floating on air. Vanessa was...

"Danny! Earth to Danny!" Sam was practically yelling. "Wake up, Danny! I'd ask you what you think of women walking naked around the apartment, but it's apparent that you can't think at all!"

I jumped, realizing what I must have looked like. I blinked, shook my head, which did nothing for my suave rating, and finally managed to relax against the fridge. "I don't care either way. Fine with me," I said in my best casual tone.

Vanessa laughed. Then Sam laughed. I wasn't sure if they were laughing at my pathetic attempt at indifference or just laughing at my situation in general, but in moments, they were laughing together. That seemed important.

Things settled in. Two more applicants had to be rejected, one dude for spectacularly bad credit, and the other because he absolutely failed the Spring Sam and Vanessa On Him test. Sam had shoved his horny ass out the door with a, "We'll let you know," before I could think of a way to let him off more politely.

Vanessa did not walk around the apartment in the nude... much. Sam settled down about it. Surprisingly amicably, I thought.

Then one night, at almost four am, I was awoken from a sound sleep by Vanessa's quiet voice. She had come into my room. "Danny?"

I saw the time, and sleepily asked, "Just get in from work? Is there a problem?"

"No, but yeah, kinda," Vanessa said to me. She had neither her work makeup nor her around-town makeup on, and it made her face surprisingly sultry in the dark. "It was a tough night at work, Danny."

"Some guy tried to get more than you were willing to give?" I asked, sitting up quickly. I could feel the drowsy but awakening frown on my face.

"Oh, that happens all the time," Vanessa waved off my worry. "I can usually handle that, and if I can't, that is what bouncers are for. No, this was the worst kind of thing. Sean Garfield was at the club."

Sean Garfield? My 'memories' supplied that he was a huge movie star who topped most Sexiest Man Alive and Eligible Bachelor lists. He went to strip clubs? "He didn't want you to dance for him?" I asked, part sympathetic and part incredulous.

Vanessa snorted at my obviously outlandish worry. "Please. He monopolized me all night, along with a rotation of other girls. I made almost five figures this evening," she added. A flicker of non-distress appeared in her frustration, then vanished again.

Ten grand?!?

"No, the problem is that he is even sexier than his reputation," Vanessa went on. "I was dying all night long. A couple of other girls and I had his shirt off for over an hour! If I had not made that promise to my father, I'd have bent over and su... spent all night sexing him up." It was fascinating to be able to actually see a mote get up enough momentum to actually bump up against the content filter themselves. Vanessa must be a strong one... Or a currently very horny one.

"Wait. Your father actually knows what you do for a living?" I asked, incredulous. I'm easily sidetracked when I'm half-asleep.

"He found out just after Mom died," Vanessa said sadly. "To keep him from opening a vein, I swore on Mom's soul that I never had, nor ever would, have sex with a customer. But let me tell you, I was ready to throw Mom under the bus tonight, I was so freaking horny. I still am, that's the problem."

"Ouch," I said sympathetically. "Cold shower? Believe it or not, my milk is not expired. Want me to warm you a glass?"

Vanessa looked at me. "I'm thinking of something more direct." I frowned. She didn't need to come tell me if she was going to rub one out. Was she that loud? "Look, Danny, I haven't had a boyfriend in ages. I decided long ago that I am not going to let myself have another until after I move on to a different career. Any relationship while I'm dancing is doomed, doomed, doomed. Thankfully, this kind of situation doesn't happen very often."

"Huge celebrities coming into the club?"

"Huge celebrities that I have a giant crush on? Very seldom. But overall, I meant just being damned near swept off my feet by some crazy sexy guy and having to go home alone instead with blue bean," she explained. "But it happened tonight, and I'm just wondering, since you are such a considerate guy, maybe we could work something out to help me?"

"Wait. What?"

She sighed. "Seriously. When I come home in a state like I am tonight, would you help me out? I promise it won't happen often!" she added hastily.

I looked at her. She was not doing the naked around the house thing. If she were, I might have been better able to process this. She had on one of the long men's teeshirts she usually slept in. She was possibly sexier than nude like that, sitting on the edge of my bed in the middle of the night.

It boggled my mind that she seemed to feel like she was asking me for some huge favor, like driving her to Miami International, or worse, Ft. Lauderdale, for a six am flight.

"What do you want to do?" I asked with a cautious smile.

"I'm hoping to do just about everything we can think of, and have time for before it's time to get up tomorrow morning," Vanessa said, a spark of seduction in her voice at last. "But I'll take whatever I can get right now," she added grimly.

It seemed to dawn on her that I was somehow negotiating about this. She leapt to a conclusion. "Oh, God! I'm so sorry, Danny! Do you have a girlfriend you haven't told us about? Oh, wow. I'm so sorry!" She started to hop to her feet.

I caught her hand in mine. "No! I do not have a girlfriend!" I said quickly. Thank Candy I did not...

"So then," Vanessa smiled a smile that likely extracted 20s from customers like dogs extracted kibble from bowls, "what's a girl gotta do to get a little action around here?"

"Taking off that teeshirt would make an awesome start," I practically begged.

"Really? You want me to start by stripping? Isn't that a bit of a busman's holiday for me?" she asked archly.

"Oh! I'm sorry," I started to babble, but she just chuckled and took that teeshirt off over her head in the most seductive fashion I had ever experienced. Vanessa really, really knew how to take off her clothes...

She had nothing underneath.

Understand, I'd seen the woman fully naked before. In better light. But never when she wanted to have sex with me. Please understand... that is an entirely different look on a woman.

I literally had to bite a knuckle again. She saw the look on my face and laughed a self-satisfied laugh. "I take it you are in?" she purred. I just whimpered.

Then she crossed her arms, but underneath her tits, so she wasn't denying me my view. "So, are you going to get out of that bed and do the same for me?" she challenged.

"I, uh, sleep in the nude," I confessed.

"Well, isn't that handy," my roommate chuckled. Then she pulled up my covers and slid underneath them, way down low in the bed.

The lump in my sheets began to rustle around, and I felt two soft hands grasp my dick. You can be sure that guy was hard as rock already, and Vanessa's lips closed around it.

"Wow, um," I said, trying not to gasp or groan or do anything else to react to the frankly incredible sensation of Vanessa's instantly recognizable skill in this endeavor. I needed to react to the situation. I'd get away with that. "Um, I thought that you were the one needing help here, Vanessa!"

Looking confused and a little panicky wasn't hard for Danny, the bikini store worker. I had been asleep five minutes ago, and now my roommate, who had never expressed any interest before, had barged into my room and shoved my rod in her mouth. Danny the Spark just encouraged Danny the store worker's reaction.

Suddenly, my dick was not in Vanessa's mouth. "Shut up, Danny! I am hungry. I..." She cut her own words off by silently taking me back between her lips and sucking me deep with the hunger she had just mentioned.

I knew what had happened. She had bumped up against the content filter again. She had been about to add, 'I want a warm snack!' But that particular bodily fluid was clearly never to be acknowledged, and the content filter made her cut herself off in the best possible way.

I snorted with a wild expression. For once, I was actually happy with the content filter...

Ha! came a voice in my head. I ignored Candy and grooved to the events beneath my sheets.

Vanessa was not fooling around, and the comic way the sheets bounced up and down for once reflected the reality of how vigorously she was bobbing up and down on me, lips caressing me with each movement, and her tongue writhing around me as she took me in and out.

My shaft thrummed with her sodden strokes of fingers and tongue. I fully believed her when Vanessa said that she did not do this professionally, but she certainly could! She somehow seemed to be sucking me at breakneck speed, while examining my every detail in deliberate fashion.

I was not going to last long, and that was a good thing, before some timeslip showed up and shortened events to accommodate run time. I wanted to reach under the covers and grab Vanessa's head, but found I could not do that. I guess since the sheet provided all the deniability needed, it would be a bit too explicit for me to grab her hair...

"Vanessa," I gasped. "That's so good! I'm going to..." This time, I was the one cut off by the content filter before I could say anything about ejaculation. The mechanism the filter used to cut me off was by having Vanessa deliver me such a powerful orgasm that I suddenly lost the ability to form words. My core clenched and spasmed, and Vanessa got all the hunger satisfaction she deserved for such a stellar effort. I felt her swallowing around my dick. That felt so good I might have come from it, if I wasn't still finishing from before.

I am sure the way my eyes bugged out and I scrabbled at the sheets, choking a bit on my own words, pleased Candy's need for humor. It also seemed like it could suggest to an audience an echo of the way Vanessa was silently dealing with all the Result I'd unloaded into her mouth, but in a filter-circumventing way...

I gasped for air, because I needed to look funny. Also, because I needed air. Vanessa popped up from under the covers, her naked body pressing against me. She grinned at me, her face right above mine. But she didn't kiss me. It was noticeable.

"I need you, Danny," she said, her nipples brushing my chest delicately. "Now."

"Yes, ma'am," I said smoothly. I had a Game stat of Decent after all, and could always hope to raise that. "I'm happy to accommodate my roommate!"

Vanessa giggled as I rolled her off and onto her back next to me. Her breasts bounced arrestingly as she struck the mattress. You are welcome, world view.

I rolled over on top of her and felt her spread her legs beneath the covers. She lifted her head toward me, but still did not kiss my lips. Instead, she nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck and kissed me there.

In this world, as with my prior experiences, my dick needed no time to recover, since things like erections and ejaculations were not supposed to officially exist in the first place. It found itself nestled with its tip directly in the folds of Vanessa's crease. All I had to do was push...

But come on. This was all too good, and I was not going to risk ending it too soon.

Instead, I slid downward and quickly discovered that getting my lips around her nipples was fair game this time around, so I suckled on them eagerly, tonguing her hard, eager bumps. I even risked taking a little time to enjoy how Vanessa was simultaneously happy with what I was doing, but frustrated by what I was not.

I realized that I had not been molested by so much as an impulse of a timeslip during Vanessa's efforts. And I was still not being bothered, despite just idling away some time with her tits.

Ah!

This was a slice of life sex comedy this time around. Those were comedies disguised as dramas (or the other way around) where sex was a primary narrative device, not just gratuitous or obligatory, meant to be shown and disposed of to get back to the story. Sex in this story was the main part of the narrative. That meant I had time to really enjoy this with Vanessa.

Shows like this hewed pretty close to actual softcore porn.

Hush! We don't say or think things like that, a voice scolded in my head. But yeah. Exactly. Oh, and this is a comedy with only a bit of drama, Danny.

So, there were still some limits to be careful of and assist with.

Regardless, I had several things to enjoy, in whatever fashion, and for as long as the story let me.

Rather than slide back up and into Vanessa, I slid further down, giving just a brief kiss to her flat belly as I passed. The sheet clung to my shoulders, and as my face reached her crotch, I was interested to see that the story had let me push the sheets down so that my head was visible at the moment. I might not be allowed to kiss the lips on Vanessa's face, but there were others to lay my mouth on.

Vanessa shuddered as I kissed the top of her cleft, enjoying my exploration of her body, but oblivious to my explorations of the limits I had to work with this time.

And I could almost immediately feel those limitations was I started trying to please her. I could not really lower my head any further down between her legs, and I could not spread those legs like I really wanted to.

This sucked.

In frustration, still kissing what of her I could reach, I threw the sheet back up over my head. I did it so hard, it almost hit Vanessa in the face. She clutched at it, bunching it up under her chin and crooning.

She crooned louder as my head easily slipped fully between her legs now, allowing my tongue to probe into her.

Interestingly, I still could not spread her legs as much as I'd have liked, so I did not have all the room I wanted. But I had enough room, and gave myself to the feast. I really could not complain here after all. Vanessa had the most delightful aroma, and her flavor matched it as I savored.

"Oh, Sean," she sighed as I probed her depths with my tongue some more. "That is so good. So very... good... Oh, I need this!"

Unfortunately, I almost immediately felt the tug of an impending timeslip. Honestly, Vanessa just was too busy losing herself in the experience to react more crazily.

With the briefest of grimaces, I stepped up my game. I rocked my head side to side and found that I could employ a finger to aid me in my efforts while I was under the sheet and it couldn't be seen. Realizing that freedom, I probed her depths even deeper, and concentrated as much of my attention on pleasuring her button with my tongue as I could, all while fighting the still fairly weak timeslip.

I got her to where I wanted her to go, even if I spent much less time getting there than I desired. Vanessa kept up that sleepy, relaxed appreciation of what I was doing right up until the end, but when she came, I was rewarded with the loudest, happiest, most over-the-top orgasm that I had enjoyed giving since I got hit by that truck.

Wow.

I mean, this was obviously, undeniably an orgasm. She thrashed against my face, and while she still clutched my sheet up under her chin, I think she almost ripped the fabric. The content filter did not force a timeslip, nor did it tone down her reaction. The world view clearly saw her orgasm. But she was still prevented from saying anything about it. There were no announcements about what was happening to her. No details. No dirty talk. Her vocabulary was limited to 'yes', and she used that extensively and enthusiastically.

Then she collapsed like a rag doll dropped on the floor.

"Okay, Danny," she panted. "You've had your fun. Now, I need you."

"Really?" I asked, sliding up over her again. "You don't want some water or anything?"

How my face was clean and dry after what had just happened down there was one of those delightful mysteries of this existence...

"Danny," Vanessa snapped. "Later. I need you to accommodate me... now."

My dick was already magically back in her entrance. This time, I let myself ease into her smoothly.

I was a bit surprised to find that Vanessa was not nearly so tight as many other women I'd been with in this isekai...

It's not an isekai.

Sure, Candy.

No, Vanessa was not hard to plunge into, but she was transcendent once I was within. Sliding into her was like slipping into the most wonderful bed imaginable, with the finest, frictionless silk sheets, deep, soft pillows, and perfect temperature controls making it deliciously warm. The mattress was simultaneously cloud-like soft, and yet firm enough for athletic endeavors.

I got athletic.

The real sheet on my actual bed had been pretty much wrecked by this point, but it still clung unnaturally to our waists as I thrust into Vanessa. Oh, Candy, she felt so good. I was grunting swiftly as I slid in and out with longer strokes than I was used to being allowed. I took full advantage of this additional leash and went deep to shallow in a swift, easily maintained rhythm.

Vanessa panted below me, her eyes heavily lidded, and she grasped my back with scrabbling hands.

I bent to kiss her at last, but she seemingly unconsciously turned her head to the side, and I buried my face against her shoulder instead. Whatever. It was a sexy as heck shoulder, and I let myself revel in kissing back and forth along its length. When I settled in to kiss one particularly enticing spot, Vanessa gasped, "No marks! Can't give customers ideas!"

I just grinned and went back to focusing on driving into her.

We settled into a delicious rhythm as I worked. Vanessa was not passive, using her body to respond to my efforts and making for a wonderful, sustainable experience.

This, of course, caused a timeslip to try to intrude. I was beginning to realize that sustained, unchanging activity of any kind, not just simply sex, triggered timeslips. But I did not want to interrupt this amazing pleasure.

I risked letting the timeslip into the room, so to speak, though I successfully fought it taking hold enough to blur my perceptions too much. It robbed me of several minutes of languid coupling with Vanessa, but I would at least be able to later savor the memories of what I missed now.

You are really starting to get the hang of how this works!

I ignored Candy for the moment, but in doing so, I pushed away the timeslip completely. Rather than risk it coming back stronger, I decided it was time to advance the plot, so to speak. I began to thrust now in shorter, more powerful probes.

Vanessa sensed my change of pace and eagerly responded. Her left leg wrapped around my right, and she grabbed my butt through the sheet.

"Oh yes, like that," she panted as I sped up again. "That's what I want. That's what I need!" Her leg squeezed mine tightly, and I grunted in a sudden surge of pleasure as my equipment began to react more strongly to its experience. She was a perfect bed...

"Please! Don't stop, Sean! Don't stop," Vanessa panted as I began to let my hips go fully.

Sean?

Oh wow. She'd already called me that before, hadn't she? At least once.

I sort of half felt upset, but I remembered Candy's words that this was a comedy, not a drama. And besides, that dude being so hot was what was giving me this experience. Good for him. I was getting mine.

But I was going to tease her so hard about it after we were done...

I was getting close enough that this and other thoughts fled my mind. I drove into Vanessa with a single-minded exertion and brought us both to our inevitable, desired destination.

I had a moment of professional disappointment when I lost it before her, and felt myself spurt into her depths in a fabulous release that blurred my mind as thoroughly as any timeslip.

The only thought I retained was to keep going, and that I did, still driving into Vanessa as best I could. She came herself moments later, not as loudly as before, but losing even more control. She only used Sean's name once more, amongst all the yeses, but it was clear that she was begging him for the release I was giving her.

Damn, that was one strong fantasy she had been dealing with all night long. No wonder she had come begging!

When she collapsed beneath me, I stopped my thrusts in relief, and I rolled off beside her, hugging her and letting the world view get another look at those tits. More to the point, it gave me another look at those tits.

"Oh, wow," Vanessa panted. "I needed that so much!"

"I'm glad to help," I grinned. "My name is Danny, by the way..."

Vanessa looked at me in horror. "Oh no! I didn't, did I?" she gasped. "Oh crap, I did call you Sean, didn't I?" She hid her face in her hands. "I'm so horrible," she moaned.

I just gently pulled her hands away from her face and kissed them both. "You are wonderful," I contradicted her. "And as for Sean, I need to send the guy a thank-you note."

She looked at me in fresh horror that morphed into a laugh. "I know I'll never see him again," she snorted with a note of genuine regret. "But if I do, I'll tell him you said thanks."

"Please," I agreed.

"You said something about some water?" she asked diffidently, pointing at the unopened bottle of Dasani I always kept at my bedside.

"Sure," I said, "as long as we can share," I added as I rolled over and stretched out for the refreshing aftermath.

"Thanks. I need something to wet my whistle," Vanessa giggled. Then her voice turned sultry. "Because I still feel the need to make you even more thankful to Sean..."

FADE TO WHITE

Already? This was a quick scenario.

I cleared my vision, and Candy stood there, smiling, in the same outfit as when I'd gone into the story.

"That was it?" I asked immediately. "Seems like there was an awful lot of setup for so little story."

"Oh, look! The Spark is giving Notes to his Muse now," Candy chuckled good-naturedly. "A lot has gone on so far, but don't worry, there is plenty left to happen that we've barely gotten set up."

"Then why am I back here?" I asked curiously.

"In an attempt to appeal to writers looking to reach a larger audience, I'm structuring the vibe of this inspiration more like a modern cable or streaming series, rather than the old feature movie format. I'm just going to let you rest and reset for a day here and there. It'll make this experience of yours feel more episodic in my storyteller's minds.

I am really enjoying this whole isekai format of stories. And I have enjoyed your suggestions for possible waypoints on Danny's journey. Keep them coming, I've already begun to incorporate a few. As always, please rate, favorite, and especially comment. That last is what makes writing all this stuff worthwhile.

Oh, and this is my 150th entry on Literotica! Your comments and emails have made it all worthwhile.