"LOVE TMNT, BUT DON"T OWN THEM!
Many Shots! A basket full of lemons! Please don't go any further down this rabbit hole if you're not ready. You've been warned! To the rest, enjoy!
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When I'm with Raph I cum many times.
When I'm with Mikey I cum really hard.
When I'm with Leo I cum really long.
When I'm with Donnie I cum all over.
Endurance. Intensity. Longevity. Capacity.
Of course I didn't plan things to turn out this way. Before all their enemies were vanquished and their epic journeys concluded, the only thing we had time to focus on was survival. And now that we finally have peace, regular life can start to happen. Well, it was supposed to. What the hell is a regular life when you're a mutant turtle? I wondered what my four heroes would do now that their major threats were gone. To me, they would always be my great warriors, my special family, my lifelong friends. I never thought they could be anything more up until a couple of months ago. Again, I didn't see this coming. I didn't know I could to fall in love with them. And I never could have imagined the joy of them returning their love to me.
Surprisingly, it all started with Donatello. I spent a lot of time with him once Casey disappeared. I guess growing up and growing old with me wasn't part of his plans. You'd think after all the shit he and the turtles have been through together he would have at least stayed in contact with them. But no. Casey was with us the night we laid Splinter to rest. The next day he was gone. Donatello and I helped carry each other's loss with few words. And busy hands. Busy hands being, working in Donnie's lab. I was his trusted lab assistant, eager to accomplish things with my smaller hands that his larger hands could not. And the work never seemed to stop. He was always trying to outdo himself, improving, upgrading, stylizing. And his brother's benefited nicely. Who would have thought this ancient, abandoned, trolley station that's thirty feet below New York streets could be a trendy, modernized loft-like penthouse? Sure, his brothers and I helped with getting the materials but Donnie was the genius architect; Bamboo flooring, steam showers, fireplaces, gourmet kitchen, simulated sun lamps, and maximum security. History has taught him that people fear what they don't understand and usually try to terminate what frightens them. If they had to live their lives secluded from humanity, they might as well do it in luxury.
I never wanted them to think that someday I would up and leave them too, so I came by a lot and spent many nights in my own comfy guest room. One day I just never left. It was easier to already be in the lair since I practically closed my antique shop to help Donnie when he needed it. As Donnie and I were tying up the loose ends to our day in the lab, I turned to leave and must have tripped over a loose end we missed and twisted my ankle. A sharp pain ran up my leg and I yelped. Donnie was quickly beside me and helped up. He guided me and I limped over to the unused bed in the back of the lab. I sat down, gingerly aware of my sore ankle as he knelt beside me and inspected the possible damage. It smelled a little stale back there. I wasn't surprised. This used to be the bed we all had laid in years ago when injury befell were more common. And no matter how minor or sever the case Donnie was the one who patched us up. I'm probably his first patient in half a decade. He rotated my ankle and flexed my toes. He asked me if I felt anything when he touched me. It tickled and I laughed. He then felt around my calf and the soreness grew.
"Ah, right there!" I cringed.
"Hmm, you must have strained your tibialis anterior. Your ankle seems to be fine, no redness or swelling. I little massage and some ice will do the trick.
Without hesitating he began to firmly mold my lower leg. He pushed into the muscle with his fingers and kneaded circles with his thumbs. My first thought was, I am so glad I shaved my legs! My second thought was a little harder to explain. I looked down at him, watching him manipulate my limb. His hold was warm and assuring. I was already feeling better. By the time I was about to stop him, his hands moved up to my knees and back down again. I shivered when his thumb ran over my inner thigh. He stopped and looked up.
"Are you alright? Any more pain?" He asked worriedly.
"No I'm fine." I hesitated. " A little less pain now. Maybe some ice would help?" I lied.
He nodded and smiled. "Very well. I'll be right back." He stood up and strode to the kitchen.
As soon as he left my mind flooded with wild new thoughts. His warm hands on my skin, making it tingle, making me feel… oh god… how can I put this? It was never a revelation to me that my mutant turtles were boys, men now. I just assumed that their mutation inhibited them from wanting and entertaining certain… 'facts of life'. I never put much thought into Raphael's teenage crush on me, or the way Michelangelo always tried to make me laugh, or Leo's smiling-at-me-then-quickly-looking-away behavior. I chalked it up as pure curiosity and nothing more. That's how I saw them. Maybe I lied just then because I felt I needed something. I hadn't been with anyone since Casey. I hadn't felt the need to…since Donnie touched me. nervousness crept over me. What was I wanting to happen and how far could this possibly go?
Donnie came back with a clear baggie of ice. He knelt, about to apply it to my leg but I stopped him and took the cool pouch into my hands.
"Before the ice, you think you could be a pal and give me a foot massage? I've been standing all day and it would really help me relax."
"Sure. I don't mind. Besides it will help your blood circulation." Doctor-mode Donnie...
He slipped off my other shoe and surrounded my bare foot with his hands. They were a little chilly from carrying the ice but quickly warmed up. I arched my back a little and bit the inside of my mouth when he discovered one of his hands were sufficient for each foot and he easily folded them in his grasp. I tilted my head back and reveled in the sensations he was giving me.
"Ahh, that's great, buddy." I tried to sound as neutral as possible. I couldn't just sit there and sigh the whole time so I decided to start a bland conversation. "So Don, whatcha workin' on? It seems like when we're done in the lab, you stay behind, typing away into all hours of the night."
"Funny you should ask. I'm attempting to find a way to completely detach our hidden home from the city's power-grid. Though it is mostly my fault, we are continuing to use more and more power. I don't want our excessive draining of utilities to bring up any red flags in the system so…"
I allowed him to prattle on as I tried to focus on his massaging me without distraction. He was so thorough, pressing along my legs in slow motion. He would start at the arches of my feet, thumb them, rise up to my knees and squeeze all the way back down. In my mind I begged him to go higher but I knew he would not. I was careful to listen to him in the back of my mind, giving him 'really?', 'how so?' and 'amazing' at the right times, all the while his touch won my attention. He then concentrated on my feet that became warm putty in his hands. He continued to stretch my toes and rub my arches in a painfully sensual (to me) rhythm. I didn't notice myself pushing my knees apart. See, I was wearing a skirt. It wasn't too short, right above my knees. But as he lectured, I began to lean back, unconsciously rocking my pelvis, causing my skirt to ride up. Oh, the pulses of pleasure he gave me! I was facing the ceiling, eyes closed and my knees were moving farther away from each other. Then he must have hit a really good spot. I let out a long moan. He fell silent. My eyes popped open. I felt his hands loosen from my skin. I looked down at him, utterly terrified. But... he wasn't looking at me. He was looking between my legs, just staring.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn! I was so ashamed. I tried to apologize but I couldn't form the words. I just used my friend to get a quick fix. I exhaled the breath I'd been holding and let the half melted baggie of ice fall out of my hand. I tried to sit up and hide my shame but Donnie grabbed my knees and held them apart. He kept staring at my crotch. He bent his face forward and sniffed… the he inhaled deeply. When he finally looked up at me his usually shy brown eyes where now dark and dilated.
"Your… your undergarments are damp with your scent." He whispered nervously.
I know he didn't mean to, but hearing him say that made squirm. As I shifted on the bed I must have stirred my 'scent' into the air, because he closed his eyes, shook his head and breathed deeply again. I soft growl came from his throat and he jumped, surprising us both. He was so frustrated. He desperately wanted to do or say something but had no idea what those things should be. I felt terrible, bombarding him with my hormones and desires. I didn't expect him to know how to respond. Then with our eyes locked he moved his hands up my thighs pushing away my skirt. He wrapped his fingers around my 'undergarments' and he slid them down to my ankles. He didn't speak and I didn't protest. We just let it happen.
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Let me continue by saying that I soon discovered my mutant turtles would commence their sexual journey just like any other virgin male; excitingly quick and full of humble apologies. And it was also a fact that the moments after their initial 'deflowering', they got better and better. I've grown to be quite delighted in the different ways they've approached sex. I'm even more so delighted that I got to experience all four shades.
For instance, Donnie loves to kiss me. He loves touching me too. He's gentle. He's not domineering, but he's no pushover either. He asks what I like and he always tries to make that happen. With him, knowledge is power and his questions have equipped him to calculate the most efficient ways to please me. Now don't get me wrong. He doesn't have sex with me like it's a science project. But he's methodical. When he licks my nipple I gasp. When he rubs my bottom I hum. When he kisses my neck I sigh. When he circles my clit I moan. And when he plunges deep inside me I whimper his name. He studies my reactions like he's learning to perfect an instrument. Every sound he evokes from me is like the different keys on a piano. And he plays my favorite song every time. Soon he stops asking me questions and improvises, tickling me knowingly. He makes love to my entire body. He's so passionate, each touch so full of intent. He holds me so close I feel like nothing can hurt me. We build up our tempo, faster, faster and then... dive over the edge into electric bliss. The feeling explodes in the deepest part of me and travels to the tips of my fingers and toes. He is the only one who has made me cry in the afterglow. It's so beautiful how he makes love to me. Just like everything else he puts his hands to, it's a work of art.
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The first night Donnie and I spent together was, I assumed, just my dry-spell hunger and his inexperienced horniness. And although the mechanics where minimally awkward and his huge penis was something to get used to, it still felt good and I was glad we shared that time with each other. He told me that I should get up early and use the shower to avoid his brothers. They would be able to smell him all over me if I didn't. We both thought it best to keep our little tryst a secret. I crept out of the lab and quickly trotted to the nearest bathroom. Trotted, as in sorely wobbled. Donnie, although very careful not to hurt me, did give me a workout. As I went to open the bathroom door Raphael came out and almost knocked me over. He was steamy fresh from his shower; a towel hung over his shoulders. I freaked out. I thought, maybe if I stood perfectly still he wouldn't catch the scent… no dice! As soon as the fog left his face a smug grin plastered thereon and shot me a wicked look.
"Good morning Raph.", like that would confuse him.
"Morning, Sunshine. How ya feelin'? You look… relaxed." He can be such a pig sometimes.
"I'm great, Raph, just needing to use the bathroom." He tried to block my way by putting his arm across the door. I came toward him and ducked under. He moved out of my way quickly and I turned to face him. I looked at him a little confused. His face went blank. I tried to touch his hand and he moved it off the door frame. I tried to poke his plastron but he took another step back… He won't touch me so long as I was musky with his brother!
I sighed, "Raphael listen. What happened last night was not planned. Donnie and I just had a really nice time and enjoyed each other's… company."
He looked like he didn't buy it, then he said, "So, all this time you been spending' with him alone in the lab, you guys felt nuthin'. And then outta nowhere you's just decide to screw?" His raunchiness irked the hell out of me.
"As a matter of fact, yes. We are still good friends and I intend to keep it that way. Excuse me." I attempted to close the bathroom door but he stopped it with his hand.
"So, you two are just friends?" He asked. I nodded. He paused then said, "Make sure you wash your hair real good. The scent is very strong there." And the he left.
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I had made myself scarce after the night Donnie and I had sex. I hoped it wouldn't have changed anything, but it did. I called him and told him that I was fine and that I had been away from the antique shop far too long. I promised I would be back the following week. I would keep that promise but first I needed some time to feel, well, human again. I don't know how else to say it. I wasn't used to artificial light and pipe-dripping silence. I needed the bustle of the city streets around me. I needed to feel the dry wind crack my lips. And I needed to look at strange faces that pass me by and who don't give a damn about me. Disappearing in a crowd could be so freeing. I was sitting at an outdoor café, thinking about how my turtles would never be able to do what I was doing then, just being a nobody. I felt very guilty. I went straight home. As I opened the door to my apartment above the antique shop I noticed one of my kitchen windows was open, held ajar with a sai. I rolled my eyes. I went into the living room and saw the bad-ass turtle lounging across my couch. What the hell does he want? And in the middle of the day?
I stood in front of him, my arms crossed. It didn't seem like a very important visit, probably just bumming around to get away from his brothers for a while. His posture was very cool, one knee up, his head rested in one hand and the other picked at his teeth with the sai that wasn't in my windowsill.
"Can I help you with something, Raphael?"
He puckered his lips to one side, eyeing me up and down. He got up quickly, closed the distance between us and hovered over me. He sheathed his sai and stuck his thumbs in his belt. He cocked his head looking down on me. He smiled when he saw how intimidated I'd become.
"Question is, can I help you with somethin'?", he whispered. I didn't say anything. I felt trapped… and afraid, not for my life, nor for my safety. I was afraid of what was noodling around in Raph's dark little mind. He pulled in close, pushed my hair away with his face and brushed my ear with his lips. I guess I didn't smell like his brother anymore. "I can be your friend too, if you want… and if you don't…" he leaned down and nipped at my neck. "I'll keep asking ya till you do…"
I'm embarrassed to say that although he was talking really big for a virgin, it still had a bigger affect on my arousal.
He continued to press his teeth into my neck, up and down. Every new pinch sent a wave of pleasure straight to the center of me. I finally got up the nerve to step back. "No Raph." He smiled and stepped toward me, this time he bit my skin harder. Even though I melted inside I found the strength to back up once more, "No, Raph. Please.." Finally he pushed me against the wall and took my entire throat into his mouth. I cried out as he sucked at my skin. His tongue danced around, fluttering over my pulse and I cried out even louder. I couldn't push him away. He was too bulky and my failed attempts to try resulted in him pinning my arms above my head with one hand and teasing my breasts without his other.
He released his mouth from me and looked me over. What a devilish grin he had. There was nothing I could do. I was at his mercy and he gloated heartlessly. "Why are ya breathin' like that?" He sucked on my earlobe and I shuddered. He laughed, "Why are your tits so perky?" He rubbed his free hand over me and I moaned. He growled and I shrunk back. He laughed again. Then he took his thick fingers and pressed them over the sensitive front of my pants. My knees buckled and I began to topple over. He pulled me up forcibly by my wrists. "Your body's telling' me ya wanna be my friend... Now you... gotta ask me." He undid my button and tugged my jeans down to my knees. I tried to hide my flushed face with my hair but he pushed his forehead into mine and demanded I look at him. Then he thumbed away my drenched panties and slid across my flesh over and over. "Ask me if I wanna be your friend." He kept rubbing my swollen lips. I tried to shake my head but his held firmly against mine. "Ask me… ask me… beg me… beg me…" He snarled in my face as his strokes upon me got faster and firmer. He knew I was close, oh so close. He saw me tense up and then he stopped. I gasped and opened my eyes. I looked at him desperately. All he did was smile. I fell apart, "Raph, p-please me my friend!" I whimpered.
He let me go, ripped the rest of my clothing off and pushed me down on the couch. "Of course, I will.", he smirked.
With all that talk he still whined like a baby the first time he came inside me.
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Raphael is an animal. I don't say this just because he is an actual mutated animal. But going down to the most primal core of any living being, sentient or not, his hunger is bleeding raw and freshly cut. The first time Raphael and I…mated… he was so eager. He went through all the stages of sex 101 in that first evening with me. The first round was a pitiful mess. But the man had endurance and he pushed me too my limit. He owned me and did anything he wanted with me. And I found that the animal in me loved every bit of it!
With Raphael, is it all about the bust. When we are together, it seems to be his goal to make me cum no less than three times. If he can get me four times, my head feels like it's going to explode. And if he can get me to five, I'm bedridden for the rest of the day and his smug smile doesn't leave his face for the rest of the week. He loves making me scream. He is so dominant and forceful. He likes it rough, grabbing at me, biting me. His pillow talk is lustfully nasty. He tells me how fuckin' hot I am, how tight I am, how he's gonna split me in two and how he loves my wet pussy. He tells me how he's gonna cum in me so hard. And he does, many times. He goes and goes until he's physically spent. And then in the final round, All I need to do is chant his name. I know it sends chills up his spine. He busts strongly, muffling his roars against my mouth. He takes every piece of me, leaves nothing to waste, just like the carnivorous animal he is.