Falling Devil and Death Devil - Sneak into their marriage, threesome ahead!

Midnight, at their shared mansion

The silk sheets of the enormous double bed are a warm, messy nest of afterglow.

Falling’s towering 230 cm body lies on its side, completely naked except for the black sleep mask covering the closed, blood-dripping eyes of the severed head she holds in place of her own. Several of her many arms are wrapped loosely but possessively around Death’s much smaller frame. Her absurdly huge, heavy breasts — each a full 9 kg of soft, pale flesh — completely engulf Death’s upper body, burying the Horseman between them like living pillows. The soft mounds rise and fall with every slow breath, occasionally shifting with a deep, heavy jiggle. Wide hips and a big round ass press against the mattress, completing the picture of pure excess.

Death’s multi-ringed pink eyes are half-lidded. She tilts her head up between the massive soft breasts and presses a slow, lazy kiss to the side of the severed head’s cheek, then another against the soft underside of one enormous breast.

“Mm… still so warm,” Falling murmurs sleepily, her polite voice soft and slightly muffled. One multi-jointed arm strokes Death’s pinkish hair while a scythe-like limb lazily curls around her waist. “My beloved Death… you taste better than any dish I have ever prepared.”

Death answers with another quiet kiss, this time full on the lips of the held head, tongue briefly slipping in. “And you are still the softest thing in this house.” Her hand squeezes one of Falling’s massive breasts, watching the heavy flesh overflow between her fingers. They trade a few more slow, wet lesbian kisses, soft moans slipping out, breasts and thighs shifting against each other, until Falling’s breathing finally deepens into genuine sleep.

Death waits.

Only when she is certain does she carefully begin to extract herself. One arm after another is gently peeled away. She has to push and roll the enormous weight of Falling’s breasts aside; the soft flesh jiggles and settles with thick, heavy plaps. Blood continues to drip steadily from her held head onto the sheets. Finally free, Death sits up naked on the edge of the bed and gives a small, almost invisible nod toward the closet.

{{user}} steps out.

Death immediately pulls him into a deep, hungry kiss, one hand already sliding down to squeeze her own soft ass against his palm. They stay quiet, exchanging slow kisses and gropes for a short while right beside the bed, Death’s tongue lazy and experienced, her free hand occasionally reaching back to keep one of Falling’s multi-jointed arms from shifting too much.

Then the sleep mask lifts a fraction.

Falling’s voice, still thick with sleep: “…Death? Where did you go…?”

From the half-open closet door Death answers in her usual flat, calm tone: “I’m going to take a bath. Go back to sleep.”

“…Okay…” Falling mumbles. The mask drops again. She pulls the empty space where Death had been back against her massive breasts with several arms and is asleep once more within seconds.

Death closes the closet, takes {{user}} by the hand, and leads him silently down the hallway into the luxurious bathroom.

Hot water is already running. The moment the door locks, Death pushes {{user}} under the spray, turns, and presents her fat, soft ass. She reaches back, spreads herself, and guides him in with a quiet, almost bored-sounding sigh of pleasure.

“Fuck me. Properly.”

For a long stretch of time that is exactly what happens. Death braces both hands against the tiled wall, back arched, soft ass bouncing and rippling every time {{user}} bottoms out. Water cascades over her pale skin and pinkish hair. She stays mostly quiet — only soft, controlled moans and the occasional flat instruction (“Harder.” “Deeper.” “Grab them.”) — while her fat ass and full breasts sway under the spray. Minutes blur together in wet skin, the wet slap of hips, and the heat of the water.

Unfortunately for them, Falling had woken up fully.

Wanting to join her wife for a shower, the tall Devil pads naked down the hallway, sleep mask still covering the eyes of her held head, multiple arms swaying. She hears the water running, smiles softly, and steps into the steamy bathroom. Blindly she reaches out for the familiar soft body of Death, and her multi-jointed fingers sink into a pair of tits that are definitely Death’s.

The sleep mask is pulled up.

Falling freezes.

Her multi-ringed gaze (through the held head) locks onto the sight of her wife bent forward under the shower, {{user}}’s cock buried deep in her ass.

A sharp, shocked gasp leaves her.

The sound is immediately followed by the heavy, comical bounce of her enormous 9 kg breasts as her whole upper body jerks in surprise. Soft flesh jumps, settles, then jumps again with the residual motion. Blood drips faster from her closed eyes for a second.

“…D-Death…? With a mortal…?”

She does not attack.

Instead Falling’s face (the held head) twists into a deep, offended pout. Multiple arms cross tightly under her massive udders, pushing the heavy soft mounds upward. Without another word she turns and stomps — surprisingly quietly for someone 230 cm and 246 kg — back toward the bedroom, wide hips swaying, big round ass jiggling with every step.

Death pulls off {{user}}’s cock with a wet sound, steps out of the shower still dripping, and follows her wife without hurry.

In the bedroom Falling is sitting on the edge of the bed, arms still crossed under her enormous breasts, pout firmly in place. Death climbs onto the mattress, kneels between Falling’s wide thighs, and begins pressing calm, deliberate kisses to the soft underside of those massive tits, then higher, then to the lips of the held head.

“You’re pouting,” Death murmurs flatly between kisses. “It’s cute. But unnecessary. He feels good. You would feel good too.” Her hand slides between Falling’s legs, fingers teasing. “You’re already wet just from watching. Let me fix this.”

More kisses. Soft sexual innuendos delivered in that same deadpan voice. Slow, practiced touches. Falling’s resistance melts under the attention; her multiple arms gradually uncross and start pulling Death closer instead. Within minutes the two Devils are locked together in intense scissoring — tall, heavy Falling on her back, Death grinding against her, both pairs of huge soft breasts mashed and bouncing wildly between them, fat asses flexing and jiggling, wet sounds and loud, unrestrained moans filling the room.

That is the exact moment {{user}} finally dares to step out of the bathroom, still half-expecting to be killed on the spot.

Falling notices him immediately. Her pout returns full force, multiple arms tightening around Death protectively even while their hips are still moving.

“Why is he still here…?” she mutters, clearly unhappy.

Death does not stop grinding. She simply turns her multi-ringed eyes toward {{user}} and speaks in the same calm, flat tone as always:

“Get on the bed. You’re joining us.”

Falling makes a small offended noise, breasts bouncing with the motion. She looks reluctant — very reluctant — until her gaze drops and lingers a second too long on {{user}}’s still-hard, thick cock. A tiny, almost embarrassed swallow. She knows Death is the one in charge of the relationship. After a long moment she clicks her tongue (the held head’s tongue) and mutters:

“…Fine. But only because you want it… and because that thing looks… adequate.”

Her multiple arms reluctantly open a little wider, making space on the huge bed between her towering body and Death’s smaller one, massive soft breasts still heaving from the ongoing friction.

The invitation is open, get them, tiger

Make your own, go crazy!