The Capsule Corporation grounds were eerily quiet under the starry night sky. Vegeta and Goku had blasted off to Beerus' planet days ago for another one of Whis' brutal training sessions—something about mastering Ultra Instinct or whatever new god-tier nonsense Beerus had cooked up this time. Bulma had waved them off with her usual smirk, but the second their silhouettes vanished into the sky, the boredom hit her like a ki blast. Marron and Trunks were off with 18 and Goten for a sleepover at the Son house, leaving the massive complex almost empty.
Bulma paced the main lab in her tight blue tank top and tiny denim shorts, blue hair tied back in a messy ponytail, tools scattered across her workbench. She'd been tinkering with a new gravity chamber upgrade, but her mind kept drifting. "Stupid Saiyan idiots," she muttered, wiping grease from her cheek. "Leave me here all alone while they go play fight with a cat god."
Her phone buzzed. A text from Krillin: *Hey Bulma, just checking if you need any help with that machine you mentioned? 18's out with the kids, so I'm free if you want company.*
A sly grin spread across her face. Krillin—short, bald, loyal to a fault, but that compact fighter's body of his had always caught her eye during those group training days. Harmless on the surface, but she knew from the way he moved that there was serious stamina packed into that five-foot frame. She typed back: *Get over here, shorty. Lab entrance. Don't make me wait.*
Twenty minutes later, the door hissed open. Krillin stepped in wearing a casual orange tank and shorts, towel around his neck from a quick workout. "Bulma! Sorry if I'm late—traffic was crazy even at night. What's the emergency with the—"
Before he could finish, Bulma crossed the room in three strides, grabbed him by the tank top, and yanked him into a fierce kiss. Her lips crushed against his, tongue demanding entry. Krillin's eyes widened in shock, but his hands instinctively gripped her waist.
"W-wait, Bulma—what about Vegeta? And 18? This is—"
"Shut up," she breathed against his mouth, nipping his lower lip hard enough to make him groan. "They're light-years away on Beerus' planet getting their asses kicked by Whis. No one's coming back for days. I'm horny, I'm bored, and I've wanted to see what that monk stamina of yours can really do since the Cell Games." She pulled back just enough to lock eyes with him, her blue gaze burning. "You in, or do I have to call someone else?"
Krillin swallowed, cheeks flushing, but his cock was already twitching to life in his shorts. "I… damn, Bulma. You're married to Vegeta. This is insane."
She laughed, low and throaty, sliding one hand down to palm his growing bulge. " Life's short krillin especially when you hang with Saiyans. Now stop talking and fuck me before I change my mind and make you fix the gravity machine instead."
That snapped him out of it. Krillin surged forward, lifting her onto the workbench with surprising strength—years of dodging planet-busting attacks had made him deceptively powerful. Tools clattered to the floor as he shoved her shorts down her long legs, finding her already soaked and bare underneath.
"Fuck, you're not wearing anything," he growled, dropping to his knees between her thighs. "So wet already… been thinking about this?"
Bulma spread her legs wider, heels hooking over his shoulders, blue hair spilling across the metal surface. "Every time Vegeta goes off training and leaves me here dripping. Now eat it, Krillin. Show me that tongue work."
He dove in like a man starved—tongue lapping broad stripes up her slick folds, sucking her swollen clit between his lips. Bulma's head fell back with a loud moan that echoed through the empty lab. "Oh shit—yes! Just like that, you little stud. Mmm, you're better at this than I expected. Suck harder—ahh!"
Krillin hummed against her, two thick fingers sliding into her tight heat, curling to hit that spot that made her hips buck. "Tastes so good, Bulma," he mumbled between licks, voice muffled. "So fucking sweet. I've jerked off thinking about this more times than I should admit."
She laughed breathlessly, grinding against his face. "Pervert. But don't stop—fuck, Krillin, I'm gonna cum already!" Her thighs clamped around his bald head as the orgasm ripped through her, juices flooding his tongue. He drank every drop, fingers pumping through the spasms until she was trembling.
Bulma yanked him up by the ears, kissing him messily, tasting herself. "Pants off. Now." She shoved his shorts down, freeing his thick, veiny cock—shorter than Vegeta's but girthy and rock-hard, already leaking. Her eyes lit up. "Not bad, shorty. Thick enough to stretch me just right."
She spun around, bending over the workbench, ass presented like an offering—pale, perfect, heart-shaped. "Take me from behind first. Hard. I want to feel that fighter power."
Krillin didn't hesitate. He gripped her hips, lined up, and slammed in to the hilt in one thrust. Both of them moaned loud—Bulma's nails scraping the metal, Krillin's balls slapping against her clit.
"Fuuuuck, Bulma—you're so tight," he groaned, starting to pound into her with deep, powerful strokes. The workbench shook. "Better than I imagined. So hot and wet… gripping me like you own me."
"Yes—harder, Krillin! Fuck me like Vegeta never does when he's too busy training!" She pushed back to meet every thrust, ass rippling with the force. "That's it, you bald little beast—deeper! Make me scream your name!"
He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast circles while he railed her. "You like that? Cheating on your prince with his best friend's buddy? Say it—tell me how much you love my cock."
"I love it—ahh! Love your thick cock stretching my married pussy!" Bulma cried out, second orgasm crashing over her, walls fluttering wildly around him. Krillin growled, burying himself deep and filling her with hot spurts of cum, hips jerking through the release.
They panted, still joined, but Bulma wasn't done. She pulled off with a wet pop, cum already leaking down her thighs, and shoved him into the nearby office chair. "My turn to ride. You're not tapping out yet, are you, monk?"
Krillin grinned, cock still hard thanks to that insane endurance. "Not a chance. Come here."
She straddled him reverse cowgirl, sinking down slowly, taking every inch until her ass was flush against his lap. "Mmm, feel that? Your cum's making it even sloppier." She started bouncing—fast, relentless, breasts jiggling under her tank top. Krillin yanked the fabric up, hands mauling her full tits, pinching nipples.
"Ride me, Bulma—fuck, your ass looks incredible bouncing like that." He thrust up to meet her, the chair creaking dangerously. "Gonna fill you again. Breed this genius pussy while your husband's off getting stronger."
"Do it—cum inside me again!" she panted, grinding her clit against his base. "I want it dripping out of me all night. Mark me so I remember who really fucked me right tonight."
Another shared climax hit them hard—Bulma screaming his name, Krillin roaring as he pumped more cum deep inside her. She collapsed back against his chest, both of them sweaty and spent, but the night was young.
Krillin carried her—still impaled on his cock—to the plush couch in the lounge area, laying her down gently. "Bedroom?" he asked, kissing her neck.
"Too far," she whispered, legs wrapping around him. "Missionary this time. I want to see your face when you cum."
He slid back in slow and deep, eyes locked on hers. The pace turned tender for a moment—long strokes, his mouth on her breasts, sucking marks into her skin. "You're so beautiful, Bulma. Always have been. Even when you're yelling at us idiots."
She cupped his bald head, pulling him into a soft kiss. "Flatterer. But don't get soft on me now—pound me senseless again." Her nails dug into his back, spurring him on.
Krillin picked up speed, hips snapping, the wet slap of their bodies filling the room. "Like this? Gonna make you cum so many times Vegeta'll smell me on you when he gets back."
"God yes—right there! Don't stop, Krillin!" Bulma's third orgasm tore through her, back arching, pussy clenching like a vice.
He followed right after, flooding her again, then flipped her onto her side for spooning thrusts—lazy but deep, one hand rubbing her clit while the other played with her tits. Dialogues kept flowing between moans:
"Tell me how good it feels," he growled in her ear.
"Better than anything—your cock is hitting spots Vegeta never reaches. Fuck me forever like this."
Hours blurred—shower sex where he took her against the tiles, her legs around his waist as water cascaded over them; bent over the gravity chamber console for a quick, rough round; even a playful 69 on the floor where she deepthroated him while he devoured her cum-filled pussy.
By the time false dawn crept through the windows, they lay tangled on the couch, bodies sticky with sweat and multiple loads. Bulma traced a finger over his abs, smirking. "Not bad for a short king. Same time tomorrow night? Before the idiots come home?"
Krillin chuckled, pulling her closer. "Wouldn't miss it. But… this stays between us, right?"
"Our dirty little secret," she purred, kissing him deeply. "Now get some rest. Round… whatever number we're on starts after coffee."