I drifted in that perfect, heavy sleep—warm furs tucked under my chin, the faint scent of river water and herbs still clinging to my skin—when the rhythm started.
Soft at first. Wet, rhythmic slaps—skin on skin, deliberate and controlled. Then the quietest moans, low and breathy, muffled against flesh. The air in the hut grew thicker, warmer, laced with the musky tang of arousal and sweat.
My eyes stayed closed, but my reincarnated senses painted the scene in vivid detail.
Right beside me on the wide fur bed, Grandfather Gorrak had Grandmother Valka pinned beneath him in missionary—her powerful thighs spread wide, knees bent high to welcome him. His thick, veined cock—glistening with her slick juices—slid in and out of her swollen, pink pussy with slow, deep strokes. Each thrust bottomed out, his heavy balls pressing firmly against the sensitive strip of skin between her dripping entrance and tight asshole before pulling back, dragging a fresh coat of her creamy arousal along his shaft.
Valka's massive breasts—full, heavy, still firm from years of warrior training—jounced with every impact, nipples dark and stiff, swaying in hypnotic arcs. Gorrak's rough hands gripped her hips, guiding her to meet him thrust for thrust, trying so hard to keep quiet for their sleeping "favorite grandchild."
But I heard everything: the wet squelch of her pussy gripping him, the soft creak of the bed frame, her stifled gasps when he hit that perfect angle inside her, the low growl in his throat when she clenched deliberately around his length.
I sighed internally. Horny old bastards.
Without opening my eyes, I rolled onto my side, facing away, and tried to sink back into sleep.
Gorrak noticed the tiny movement. A gravelly chuckle rumbled against Valka's neck. "That's why he's my favorite," he whispered, voice thick with lust. "Doesn't fuss."
Then he picked up the pace.
The slaps grew sharper, faster. His hips snapped forward with controlled power, driving his cock deeper into her soaked heat. Valka's breath hitched; she locked her ankles behind his lower back, pulling him in harder. He dipped his head, capturing one bouncing nipple between his lips—sucking hard, tongue flicking the peak until she arched beneath him, a choked moan escaping despite her best effort.
The scent intensified—her arousal sharp and sweet, his sweat salty, the faint herbal tang of whatever stamina potion they'd brewed earlier. Hours, probably. Rank 0, 6-star constitutions plus Crimson Endurance? They could go all night.
Their rhythm built relentlessly—wet sounds louder, breathing ragged, the bed shaking just enough to rock me gently. Valka's fingers dug into his broad back; Gorrak's thrusts turned primal, balls slapping rhythmically against her ass as he chased release.
I felt the exact moment they tipped over—her pussy fluttering around him, his cock throbbing as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled hot, thick ropes deep inside her. Valka's muffled cry vibrated against his shoulder; his groan was low and satisfied.
They stayed locked together, trembling, riding the aftershocks in silence.
And then—
BOOM.
The entire hut shook. Dust sifted from the rafters. Outside the wooden fence, something massive had just struck the ground hard enough to rattle the village.
Grandfather's head snapped up, still buried inside Grandmother. "What in the thunder—"
Valka's legs tightened around him reflexively, then relaxed. "Later," she panted, eyes gleaming with leftover lust and fresh adrenaline. "Duty calls."
I kept my eyes closed, breathing steady.
Round two interrupted. Typical Thunderfang life.
The hut still smelled heavily of sex—thick, salty musk mixed with the sharp herbal tang of whatever stamina brew they'd used. The furs beneath me were warm and slightly damp where Grandfather had been thrusting moments ago. I'd been feigning sleep again, but the sudden crash outside yanked me fully awake.
Grandmother Valka rolled off the bed first, her powerful body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Between her thick thighs, fresh rivulets of Grandfather's thick cum slowly leaked from her flushed, swollen pussy—pink folds still puffy and glistening, lips parted just enough to show the creamy white dripping down toward her asshole. Every small movement made another bead slide free, trailing over her skin in lazy, obscene paths. She didn't bother wiping it away; she just grabbed a hide skirt and tied it loosely around her hips, the fabric immediately darkening where the wetness soaked through.
Grandfather Gorrak stood, his half-hard cock still slick and heavy, swinging as he pulled on his loincloth. A final pearl of cum clung to the tip before dropping to the floor.
"Hey, little one," Valka cooed, leaning over me—her massive breasts swaying freely, nipples dark and stiff from recent sucking. "Wake up, honey. There's a big tiger outside the fence. Rank 0, 6-stars. Don't you want to watch the show?"
The excitement in her voice was infectious. I rubbed my eyes theatrically and sat up. "Yeah… let's go."
She grinned, scooped me up naked against her bare chest—my cheek brushing the soft, sweat-damp curve of one breast—and carried me to the corner where my small tunic waited. Still completely nude herself, she set me down and knelt to dress me. The motion spread her thighs wider; I had a perfect, eye-level view of her freshly fucked pussy—glistening folds parted, inner lips rosy and slick, cum still oozing in slow, viscous strands that stretched and broke as she shifted. The scent hit me hard: raw sex, her arousal, his seed, all mixed into something primal.
Her fingers were gentle as she slipped the tunic over my head, but every brush of her bare skin against mine—warm breasts grazing my arms, thighs brushing my legs—sent little sparks through the air. Grandfather watched from the doorway, eyes glinting with leftover lust and fresh adrenaline as he tied his own clothes.
Once I was dressed, Valka finally pulled on her top—slowly, deliberately, letting her heavy breasts bounce once more before covering them. Grandfather adjusted his loincloth with a satisfied grunt.
"Ready to watch some action, Kai?" Gorrak asked, voice rough.
I nodded, deadpan as ever. "Always."
We stepped outside into the cool night air.
The village was already alive with shouts and torchlight. At the fence line, a massive tiger—Rank 0, 6-stars, stripes gleaming like polished obsidian—paced and roared, claws raking deep gouges in the wood.
And there, cowering behind my still-half-dressed father (who'd clearly sprinted out in a panic), was our poor bear guard. The eight-hundred-pound "fierce" monster was literally hiding behind Harlan, peeking over his shoulder with wide, terrified eyes, whimpering like a kicked pup.
Father stood there, loincloth askew, clutching his new (very basic) spear, trying to look brave while the bear used him as a meat shield.
Grandfather took one look at the scene, threw back his head, and laughed so hard the torches flickered.
Valka squeezed my hand, her palm still warm from earlier activities, and whispered, "This is going to be good."
I just sighed contentedly.
Never change, Thunderfang family.
Never change.