Copyright 1993:
This is an attempt at erotica using the semi-recent events in the X-men books. So far, this is taking place in an alternate universe (original?) and behind the scenes. For those who have read the books, this is to fill in between the pages. This starts around the Acts of Vengeance.
Standard Disclaimer: If anyone at Marvel is reading this with litigation in mind, note that this is a parallel plot in a place where everyone is a doppleganger of the Marvel character, coincidentally with the same name. This is strictly for entertainment. Hard-copy for personal use is permitted, but any public use is forbidden (not on my part but by that of Marvel Industries). Any profit made through it is illegal.
For those of you with weak intellects, and no regard for plot, hit 'n' now, since merely scanning for key words like pussy, tits, and cunt will skip over several scenes and all of the work I put into it, so hit 'n' now.
Keywords: mf/mc/cons/mast/non-cons/ex/ff(implied)/plot
The Conditioning of Psylocke
The Mandarin had chosen his brethen well. They had stumbled onto this assassin only moments before she had chosen to follow through on her orders. Never before, however, had he expected to find such resources in such a trivial manner.
His eyes looked over her form, the taught muscles, the smooth skin, the shimmering hair. Those eyes, as they glared right back at him, held a coldness that almost made him shudder. She had been a long time consort of the Warlord Nyoirin, but while the Mandarin was present, the Mandarin was the Overlord. With a twitch of an eye, he directed his followers to take her to a chamber.
She sat in the middle of the room, crosslegged, the robe she was given draped about her, but split in the front, holding her secrets in shadow. Her wrists faced up, her head tilted down, and her thoughts echoed through the ancient halls. The mirrors along the upper edge of the room reflected only more darkness, and her confusion was masked by a butterfly.
Her brow covered with sweat, she opened her eyes, her thoughts searching for strength. Uncrossing her legs, she folded them under her. Bowing to a nonexistent shrine, she swiftly jumped to catch her feet under her, and stood to full height, the robe beginning to reveal her splendor. Rollling her shoulders, and pushing them back, she shed the robe, and let the torchlight lick at her form. Beating back the chaos in her mind, she did what she always did to escape her fears, she practiced.
Twisting on the balls of her feet, she backstepped into a somersault, rolled out of it, and jumped into a flying side kick. Landing, she swept an invisible opponent's feet, delivered a large roundhouse, and "finished" him with three punches appropriating for blocks. Backpeddling, she found herself "faced" by two opponents, moved between them, and synchronized a set of kicks and punches between the two, with speed that registered an impression on the faces behind the mirrors.
Settling back into the precise center of the room, she wiped a bead of sweat from under her breast, and licked her finger. For the first time, she grinned.
He watched her perform a deadly dance, and those around him empathized with his attraction. Generally, his withdrawn preference for geisha would normally satisfy his needs, but the more he watched his captive, the more he became captivated with her. "Go!" he ordered the ninjas along the mirror. They filed out of the room. Their footsteps went unheard as they climbed a staircase. To their mark, their silence betrayed them. As they landed on three points, they surrounded her. When all seven of them finished dropping from the unseen ceiling, they each brandished a weapon or two, except for one. He held his hands forward in claws, mimicking a tiger in style.
She rose from her lotus position, her robe several feet away outside of the circle. Standing tall, she approached the unarmed one, walking with no regard to the others. Reaching into the guard stance, she lifted the mask partially to reveal the snarl. Lacking no grace, she moved her lips over that snarl while her hands worked at his waist. Her fingers as deft as her body, she accomodated his pants around his erection.
His claws fell to more intensive than destructive actions. His fingers grazed over her face, and continued down her body, caressing her shoulders first, then moving under her breasts, immediately testing their firmness. Before he could explore further, she had already impaled herself on him, without any of his assistance.
Immediately, the clatter of metal on stone erupted as the ninjas dropped their respective weaponry. Their hands sought out to touch what they had not suspected they could. One other was so bold as to adjust his garments to introduce his own member to the situation.
Seeing her legs wrapped around his brethen's, the smooth skin being caressed by the hands of more, he asserted his authority as the second of the leader. Moving behind her, his hands traced the crack of her buttocks, and pressed his flesh between hers. Her head turned to see him, and her eyes pulled him closer. Thrusting her hips back, she affected the impalement, and loosed her legs. Her arms stretched out, as well as her legs, as she placed her full weight onto their conjunctions.
Hands moved to support her, as well as fondle her, but the two who had her felt as though they were one with her. Any pleasure to be had seemed to be given to them. They felt their own bodies penetrated while they were the ones penetrating. Unable to hold back anything, they groaned a final syllable, only to finally disipate into smoke.
She landed on the floor, catching herself from bruises. The rest of the group ignored this and one immediately moved behind her and spread her thighs apart. Bearing no ceremony, he encunted her on as she fell to fours. Looking back, she said nothing, but pounded back at him. Tossing her head to shift her hair, she encountered a member inches from her nose. Glancing up to the unseen face for acknoledgement, she touched her tongue to the tip of it. Accepting the notion, she accepted its length smoothly into her mouth and partially down her throat. The last three waited away from her, removing the bands of fabric from their bodies. As she bounced in the odd rhythm between her two captors, they surrounded her. Sensing every last pleasure in the tryst, they watched as the primal groan marked the dissolution of the two "captors". The smoke still clung to her form, which showed no stress.
She waited on four as one entered her anus, pushing aside the last wisps of his comrade. His hands reached forward and clutched her breasts. In this pose, he lifted her onto him, and fell with his back to the floor. Another then moved between her spread legs and entered her frontwise. As a moan escaped her, it was stifled by the last, driving himself between her lips.
Any motion she made stimulated her, and every one in her. This she recieved, and rebroadcast to them. As they felt the wave wash over them, they redoubled any effort for an exponential effect. Feeling every last bit of their passions, she began to take it all and not leak it for a few minutes. Their motions hastened in hopes to heighten the sensation, but it was always take away. In a final surge, she screamed as well as she could, and shuddered in an intensity that sent her reeling into unconsciousness, as her final stock of stolen orgasm washed over her assailants, sending them into smoke.
The fragrance overwhelmed her peace, as she jerked her head up, instinctively batting aside the smelling salts. Before her stood a tall, finely dressed oriental with a perfectly trimmed beard and sunken eyes. She met those contemplating eyes unflinchingly.
She opened the conversation, "You were there." Her voice echoed in the cavern with which she was all to familiar.
He lips remained still.
In her head, a voice boomed with a deepness that defied her indifference. Not like that, it said.
"Wha-?" she began, only to have the voice return.
A thought is a river, while a voice is a waterfall. The water can get from one level to another without the waterfall.
Understanding, she responded, Like this?
Precisely.
Who are you?
You will refer to me as the Mandarin, always in the third person. Why would I do that? she questioned him.
You are mine, mind, body, and whatever else lies under that skin.
And if I choose otherwise?
You won't choose otherwise. He held up a hand. On each manicured finger rested a ring, each with a different stone. I can have you choose to do anything I want. She felt her pulse rise, and however much she despised him, she was unable to stop herself from kneeling before him and bowing her head at his feet, her breasts crushed against her knees. With clenched teeth, she remained on her knees, but stood to his waist. Her arms, defying her thoughts, moved to his suit pants, first unbuckling the belt, then undoing the button, and dropping the zipper. Reaching under the lapels of his shirt, she withdrew his rampant member.
Go on, he directed.
You fucking bastard. Just because you can control my body doesn't mean you own me. She continued projecting her thoughts as her lips wrapped around him. Even as you control my actions, my thoughts will always be my own.
Ah, the cry of self-proclaimed righteousness.
The body is a temple. Upon desecration, the temple may no longer be holy, but that doesn't mean the spirits inside aren't.
To be sucked by such a metaphorical slut. A pleasure not to be wasted by mental bondage. Withdrawing himself from her lips, he withdrew roughly from her mind as well, leaving her with a headache.
If you don't keep me under your control, I'll kill you the first chance I get. Why not now? I swear on the honor of my family, I won't use my mind control ring.
Leering up at him, she launched herself with catlike speed at him. He dove to his right, his member, glistening with her saliva, still hard as the stone they walked on. Turning the rings covering his fingers to aim the stones inwards, he fell to the tiger stance demonstrated before. She closed the distance, and faced him. Sending a direct punch at his face, she measured his blocks. Blocking her punch, he measured her speed. Countering with a footsweep, she jumped over it sending a foot to the back of his thigh, launching herself away while landing the hit. Feeling the bruise, he hardened his style a bit more, and learned from his mistake.
Approaching her, he kept his hands in an open stance, inviting her attack. Waiting for his retaliation, she kept a low stance, her feet wide for stability, her fists clenched. They could each hear the other's heart beating, as well as each breath taken. The conflict had maintained his arousal, and had heightened hers. Due to her stance, her shaved lips were parted wide, and a drop fell from one. As it landed on the floor, a single heartbeat changed ever so slightly, but he understood the timing better than anyone in the world. Stepping in, he sent an open left hand to her face. Drawing the crosswise block, his right grasped her left wrist as it contacted. Flipping over her, wrist still in hand, he avoided her kick, and proceeded to hold her helpless.
His member pressing between her buttocks, he controlled every muscle in his body, and penetrated her anus, receiving a large shudder from her. Still holding her close, he ground into her. Her control began to wane at the sudden rush of sensation. His arms let her go, and gripped her by the waist. Reeling, she began to fall to the floor, but her hands caught her, for naught, being that he anchored her sufficiently.
Even as her hatred for him flowed, their connection seemed so primal that denying it only strengthened it. His skill as a fighter was matched by his skill as a lover. His mood matched hers at the time, blazened and energetic. Every stroke he made into her was fluid enough to make her anticipate the next. Tears welled in her eyes as she passed from orgasm to orgasm. Screaming by voice and mind, she send the waves of the pleasures back into the Mandarin. Unprepared for the projection, he ended on a final long stoke into her, sending his seed deep into her bowels. Completely drained, he collapsed onto her, remaining inside her. No geisha had ever done that to him before.
"Betsy, why didn't you tell anyone else about this?"
"I don't know, professor. You see, right after I came out of the Seige Perilous,
I didn't know what was happening. Everything I was before was but an appendage to my current state. I felt more than whole. Actually, overflowing."
"Well, I don't think the other X-Men need to know about this. As long as the team operates without problems, and in particular, you can operate without any problems, then the matter can be dealt with at our lesuire."
"Thank you for listening, professor. I'm going to take a walk around the mansion, try to unwind. Good night, professor."
"Good night, Betsy." His stern demeanor held some comfort for dealing with the personal natures of each of his students. Everyone knew he cared, and everyone cared for him, but every night, his dreams carried him off into the universe, in search of his only love.
Cyclops rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He seemed to be doing that a lot, as of late. The book Jean gave him had its merits, but his attention span seemed to shorten whenever he thought about the work he had to do. So many unmonitored mutant groups out there, and he was awake at two in the morning letting his eyes pass over words to which he paid no heed.
Getting out of bed, he was careful not to disturb Jean. Padding over to the bathroom, he removed his ruby quartz glasses and splashed his face with some lukewarm water. Replacing his glasses, he slowly opened his eyes, and returned to bed. Exchanging his glasses for the eye covers Forge made, he slipped under the covers. Slipping his legs around one of Jean's, he moved close to her face. Blowing her a kiss across the inches between them, he rested.
"What was that supposed to be?" she whispered.
"I didn't want to wake you," he whispered back.
"A little late for that. What were you up so late for?"
"Just reading, and thinking?" a moment later, he almost regretted telling her.
"Thinking about what?"
Hesitation. "I was thinking about you." Don't get too corny, or she'll catch on. "How peaceful you looked, asleep."
"You're getting all sentimental on me, Scott." She looked at him. "I like that."
He moved closer and kissed her. "I love you, Jean." Be careful here, Scott. Know when to talk, and when to fuck. His hand crept between them, and cupped a breast through her neglige. Pulling her into a longer kiss with his other hand, he felt a momentary tension in her, but it faded quickly. Pulling her closer with his legs, he also rubbing his knee between her thighs.
She immediately pressed her lips closer to him, and opened them to receive his tongue, intertwining it with her own. Telekinetically, she raised her neglige to give him better access. Her red hair matched perfectly, as he well knew.
Finishing with her own clothing, she took care of his, pushing his thin pajama shorts to his feet.
He slid the covers down and rolled over on top of her. Sliding himself between her spread legs, he wasted no time in entering her. Her wetness was nothing spectacular, but present enough to stop any discomfort. With long, slow strokes, he drove himself into her. Her eyes were closed, concentrating on him within her. He stretched his neck, and while turning it, he caught a glimpse of a figure in the doorway.
The door slightly ajar, he tried to focus in the pale moonlight on who it could be. Before he could finish focusing, he heard something that wasn't quite there. Quiet, Scott. She might decide to scan you mind or look my way. It was then his vision cleared to perceive Psylocke. She leaned halfway through the opening, her back on the trim around the door. He could see a hand under the scanty top she wore as her outfit. Her other hand he could see worked under the high hipped bottom she wore. No light came from the hallway, but he seemed to be quite aware of her every movement.
Mechanically, he worked at Jean, his eyes directed to Psylocke, her face a mask of pleasure. Rough job, there, boy. You guys must really be in love, because your so careful not to hurt each other. I'm impressed. Even in telepathy, the sour note of sarcasm could be tasted.
At that, Scott recalled every last time he made love to Jean, and Madelyne Prior, her clone. They most variety they got was choosing between the missionary position or an inversion thereof. Good history, Scott. I'll leave you two alone. I think I need a walk by the river. Scott balked at the underlying invitation. Returning to Jean, he closed his eyes and kissed her neck. He imagined the breasts at his fingertips to be another's. He renewed his energy with this image, and with a long final stroke, spurt into her, whoever she was. "Scott, God, you're great." She wrapped her arms around him, but his mind was elsewhere.
"Great. Now you got me full of energy. I can't sleep now. Maybe I'll go for a walk or a Danger Room session." He moved to get up.
"Wait, I'll go with you." She stirred in the bed.
"No. I think one of us should be wide awake tomorrow."
"If you think so. I love you."
"Yeah, I love you, too, Jean." He bent down to kiss her. Holding her there for a few seconds, he bent up, grabbed his outfit and walked to the bathroom. Rinsing off in the shower, he suited up, and left the room, closing the door he knew was closed before.
Under the waxing gibbous moon, along the edge of the river just outside the main grounds of the mansion, Psylocke sat with crossed legs, wrists facing up resting on her knees. Her purple skin tight outfit she wore with the team lay on the ground seven feet away. The air was comfortable for the hour, but dew still settled on the grass. The east sky remained as dark as the rest of the sky. From the direction of the mansion, she could count the number of leaves he brushed against as Cyclops approached.
"Betsy? You out here?"
"Of course, Scott."
As his eyes found her, he was tempted to turn away. "Don't you think you should have something on?"
"Of course, Scott," she repeated. She stood and approached him. Before he could react, she grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him down to the ground, her back settling into the wet grass. "But it's so much nicer to have someONE on."
Pulling his face down to hers, she met his hesitant lips and sought out his tongue. Removing a hand from the back of his head, she reached down to his belt. Undoing Forge's uncanny technology, the belt came off in pieces, or modules as he so fondly called them. After that, it was elementary to free the bulge forming in his trousers.
Scott was slow to break the kiss. "Betsy, I don't think we should really do this."
"There is a barrier between the body and the words. And its name is Jean. The woman you've loved for all of you life as and X-man is all you've known. Your empty horizons on the emotional front have closed your eyes to what is just beyond."
"Betsy... Please...." Now she had his member in her hand, softly kneeding it to solidity.
"Scott. You're shaking. Come now, relax. I want to do this for you."
"Oh, God, Betsy. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you left to visit your brother in England." Now she was slowly stroking him, even though he was resting on top of her.
"Then continue to think about me." She positioned herself under him and guided the tip of his member to her flushed lips. They parted as she spread her legs wider, and she gently pulled him down, sinking him slowly into her. She moaned aloud, to match his. "Come on, Scott. Fuck me, do me harder. I'm not Jean."
"No, you definitely aren't. Oh, my God Betsy!" His exclamation coming from her ability to control every last bit of her musculature. Exhausting, but unspent, she raised up her legs, pulling them up to her shoulders. Scott stopped for a moment, to finish the positioning, and replaced his hands on either side of her. She then draped her legs over his shoulders, affecting a deeper penetration.
"Okay. Fuck me as hard as you can, Scott. You can do it." You can do it, oh fearless leader, she thought.
He obliged, driving himself into her, pushing her in the grass. Her hands gripped his shoulders as her back arched with every thrust, trying to meet him every time. While his mind was fully spent on his own carnal gratification, she was able to slip in past his mental defences, the ones he originally had for Jean. Once inside, she was able to find the right switches to make to take him completely. Leaving a few impressions, she cleared a path for later suggestion. As her groans gave way to voiceless breath, she brought each of them to a simultaneous orgasm. His first spurts firing deep into her, she pulled him out to have his seed spill onto her belly and breasts. Her hands went to rub it over her skin. He pulled her legs off of his shoulders, and set his hands to help her rub his liquid over her sleek flesh. Triggering one of her controls on him, she induced a production of endorphins along with new surge of testosterone. With the next trigger, she urged his adrenals to produce some fresh adrenaline. This resulted in a burst of energy, and irrationality.
Knowing this, she removed the petty block his morals put up against his responses. To initiate the activity, she pushed him away. "Get away from me, you lousy, cheating scum." Hanging around Jubilee did have its effects.
"Oh, is this how it is. You tease for months on end, but when it comes time to deliver, you're nothing but a two bit whore. One that needs some appropriate punishment." At this, he slapped her face. His mouth snarling in rage, he slapped her again. She rolled with these, and covered her nipples with her hands. In a fit of anger, he ripped her hands from her breasts. "Don't you dare cover yourself." He seemed to forget about her ninja skills, and did not seem to wonder why they failed to manifest themselves. His hand slapped at her breasts from the side.
Struggling weakly, and falsely, she was turned over, her hips pulled back to meet his rampant tool. Holding her by the thighs, he drove himself into her waiting vagina. Slapping at her buttocks frequently, he ignored her powerful orgasm, except for the fact it layered his member with fluid. Pulling out of her, he placed himself at her anus. With no mercy, he forced himself to the hilt in a single push. At this, her body went limp. She screamed, knowing that the area was acoustically ideal for her seduction. He pounded into her rear, feeling assured he was punishing her. Ideas coming from "nowhere", he decided on how to finish it off.
Standing up, and pulling her to her knees, he presented himself to her lips. As she opened her eyes, she saw, and already knew what to do.
"Clean me up, you worthless slut."
"Please, no..." she pleaded, continuing the scenario.
"Just for that, as soon as you're done, we're going to start all over again."
She took him in hand first, placed her tongue on the tip, and slowly took him deeper. In mock (but true) acceptance, she worked him deeper into her mouth, as his head lolled back. His hands grabbed her hair and pushed the rest of his length into her mouth and throat. Ignoring her sense of taste, she sucked on him at length. Almost removing himself from her, he drove back in to be sucked for a while. After several slow strokes, he started thrusting into her in a quickening rhythm. At the height of it, he withdrew entirely, pulling her hair back, tilting her face, he sent his load over her face, his first spurts landing on her cheeks, his later ones welling by her eyes and running into her hair. "Okay, now we're going to start over." Still completely rampant, he let go of her hair, threw her to the ground, stomach down, and placed his tip at her puckered rear entrance. With little ceremony, he plunged himself back into her. "Maybe this will stop your teasing, you little slut. Maybe you'll finally understand what makes a team leader." His hands slapped at her rear as he thrust mercilessly. "I think I know what you need." He grinned fiercely, and put his glasses on his forhead, revealing his closed eyes. Then, squinting, he let out tiny bursts of energy at her back.
She gasped as the concussion of the small blast knocked the wind out of her. Struggling to get a full breath as he razed her back, she felt her body wracked with orgasms unending. Making sure all of this was being lodged into his conscious memory, she send a burst of her orgasmic emotion into him, just as she passed out, losing her control over him.
Releasing a full blast into her by his mutant ability, he also spilled himself fully into her. Collapsing on top of her, he began to shrink, and regret. As he came back to his senses, he paid attention to the flesh beneath his. He realized who he was with, and what he had done. "Oh, God. What have I done?" his cliche echoed in his mind. Images of what had just happened rushed back to him. Fixing his clothing, he began to weigh his options. Turning her over, he tried not to marvel over her body, and checked her breating and pulse. Finding it all in order, he decided it would be safe to leave.
He appreciated the fact that his power did little to human flesh. It seemed to be something about the resonances in the carbon atoms that consist the body that change his blasts to something more than concussive force and nerve overloading. Metal, however, seemed to be rended quite easily, or bashed, depending on the frequency set.
Finding his way back to the mansion, he jumped into the shower, rinsed off, and slipped in next to Jean, beating the sun by a couple hours.
"Tell, me chere. As afraid of me as you may seem to be, I'm always ahead of the sitaution." He held up a foil packet in his classic two finger pose.
"Ah think, Remy, that a li'l ol' rubber ain't gonna keep our skins from touchin'."
"But, then, chere, that's what this is for," he retorted as he pulled out a sheer green body suit, full length. "Try it on, for me, hmm?"
"Ah'd really like to know what ya' have in mind, cajun." She walked by him, and pulled the item from his fingers. "Ah tell ya' what. Ah'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"Of course." He draped his overcoat over the chair by the door. First, unbuttoning his tailored shirt, he watched as she undid her buttons.
Simultaneously, they slipped them over their shoulders and let them fall to the ground. Since she first absorbed her powers from Ms. Marvel, she found that a bra was no longer needed. Obscure superpowers indeed. Next he doffed his tight pants, his shoes gone since his jacket. She slowly, teasingly, lowered her skirt, leaving her in high hipped panties. His bulge lurched, as it lurked behind his bikini briefs.
Making the first final move, he slid his briefs down as she dropped her panties, blushing. "Now, there, chere. Nothing to worry about. Just slip on my little gift there, and soon you can slip on my big gift here."
"Oh, shush. Some uh us uh tryin' to be modest." She stretched the fabric at the neck. Careful not to stretch too far, she slipped in. At first having a hard time with it, she found that it stretch far more than she thought. Catching some gloves he tossed to her, she slipped those on as well, finding they matched her outfit.
"Don't you look absolutely delicious in that. Let me taste you."
"Watch it, Gambit. Even just --"
"--the slightest touch would have your head full o' me. I know. Watch this." His hand cupped her breast, its nipple coming to attention immediately. "Don't ya' see, I ain't touchin' ya', but you're still feelin' me."
"Oh, Remy. Do some more."
"I intend to." He placed his lips around the other nipple, wetting the suit to full transparency. His hands first kneeded at her breasts, then moved to her rear. She moaned under his expert caresses, and gave in to his every touch. Stepping back, he pulled a knife from his nearby shirt cuff (the place most theives carry them). At her groin, he made a small incision in the thin material. She watched him, wary of his every movement. Finding the condom, she opened the package, and sat up to roll it onto him.
Carefully, they moved to the bed, trying to keep in contact, and she lay down. Spreading her legs for him, he knelt between them. "Oh, chere, what I wouldn't give to have a condom for my tongue." She blushed, but said nothing. Guiding him in, he seemed quite adept at holding the fabric apart as he wedged his way into her.
"Tell me, chere. What nasties did those boys do to you back on Genosha, back when you and Wolvie were stuck there?"
"If you're wonderin' if ah'm a virgin, ah'm not." She grinned weakly at him. Knowing not to ask any more questions, he slowly moved himself into her. Watching her face, holding her eyes with his, he lodged himself deeply within her. "Oh, Remy. All ah want ya' to do is be careful."
"I intend to." He slowly stroked in and out. Her arms wrapped around him as he quickened his pace. Pulling him as deep as he could go, she pushed him away as she found her very first orgasm outside of her own fingers.
"Here, Remy. Try this, instead. Ah've always wanted to have it like this." She got onto her knees, and looked back at him.
Caught a bit off guard, he took his place behind her and repositioned the slit to accomodate hers. Acquiring the angle, he entered her again. She moaned more, and reached back to stroke herself. His hands found her breasts again, and worked her flesh most enticingly. Holding back on his orgasm, he waited for hers. As she shuddered and collapsed onto the bed, he sent his load into the barrier that kept them a millimeter apart.
"Oh, chere. I'd give up every other memory, if I could only remember this." Laying down next to her, he held in the nested spoons position. "As long as I lost my memories that way."
"For all ah want to, Remy, ah don't think ya' we should sleep so close. Even the most casual contact would mean me stealin' your powers and mem'ries. For now, we can do that as much as we like, which ah do like. But let's sleep in our own beds, 'kay?"
"Fine, chere. Let's get together real soon." Dropping the condom, he got up, donned his overcoat, left his clothes, and left the room.
Rogue sat in bed, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to explain to herself why she kept him so far away.
Gambit fumed as he walked down the hall. For all they wanted each other, they weren't allowed to be themselves. As he stepped into his own room, he dropped his overcoat on the floor, and went to the shower. Rinsing off, he stretched in the middle of the room before he noticed the perfectly silent and prone figure in the darkest shadow of the room. "Jeez, chere. You tryin' to scare Gambit's ghost before I even die?"
"No. You just looked so raw. I didn't want to disturb you."
"Burnt is more like it." Hunting for a conclusion, "Were you spyin' on Rogue and me?"
"Not necessarily spying, but paying attention to your thoughts, yeah."
"Then you can hear whay I'm thinkin' now." Get out.
"I was just thinking of finishing your evening for you. You can touch me,
Gambit. You don't need to worry about touching me, Gambit, ever." Projecting as strongly as she could, You don't need any condoms either, for cock or tongue.
I'll show you mine if you show me yours.
"Problem bein', I'm already showin' you mine."
Psylocke stood to full height, and stepped from the shadows, showing her own lack of clothing. "I was ready before you came into the room." She toyed with his perceptions, and morals. Placing random beacons, she mapped out his mind and found the nerve centers she required.
"Then the evening may turn out after all."
"I should certainly hope so, Gambit."
"Call me Remy, in times like this."
"Call me Betsy."
"Then, Betsy, I'll suck yours if you suck mine."
"I'd love to, Remy." They fell to the floor. She laid him on the floor and placed her knees around he ears. In unison, their hands sought what was right in front of their faces, and brought their mouthes to each other. His fingers parted her clean shaven lips and his tongue found its way to her core. Her tongue stroked along his length and then she fully engulfed him. Bucking her hips onto his face, she moved up and down his length, sucked as hard as she could, and then repeated herself. His tongue traced the alphabet in her, and spelled out "clit" just before he tongued that as well. At that moment, they each sent their fluids to the other.
She turned to face him, and impaled herself on him before he could utter a work. Rising and sinking on him, she just watched his expressionlessness as she worked into his mind for his true feelings. Upon finding nothing, she implanted several of the same tendencies in him as she did Scott. Awakening the lust inside him, she switched him to a subservient mode and got onto his bed. Spreading her legs wide, she had him stand between her legs and slide into her. Having him lean forward on her breasts, she had him perform on her for a good hour, before letting him feel any of the pleasure.
After that position, she turned over, as though tanning, and had him enter her from that angle. Enjoying several orgasms, she tailored his memories to fade the fringes of these images to leave the memories as dreams. As he pounded into her, she finally directed him to her anus. Sending a small orgasm through his body, she had him eject a portion of his seed for lubrication. Sending him in, she recalled her time with Cyclops and planned for the upcoming days and nights. Driving himself into her, his dreamlike stamina had been incredible. Reaching the teens in the number of orgasms she found from his indominatable manhood at her back door, she allowed him to spew his seed deep into her. Sated, she sent him to bed, to sleep, to wake with only a slight recollection of the night as a dream.
The sun found the bell tower of the mansion, but the trees kept it away from the bedroom windows for another hour. The halls were virtually empty. The pattering of falling water seemed to be the loudest sound this morning. In the kitchen a short, burly man scrambled some eggs. Off to the side sat various meats and vegetables. A young oriental girl in blue striped pajamas and a serious pout loomed over the refrigerator, deciding on a breakfast.
"You're not having cereal again this morning. I'm making the team an omelet. We're going to need a good meal before our weekly Danger Room session, or at least the rest of you will."
"Back off, Wolvie. I just want some OJ, okay?" She really did want cereal, but decided to put up with him now, and save her arguements for another time.
"Then pour some for the rest of the team. I want to be training by ten this morning."
"Which team? The blue team, or all of the X-men in the mansion?"
"We only have enough eggs for the blue team. The rest can fend for themselves."
"What about Jean?" Jubilee knew nothing of Wolverine's view of Jean.
"What about her? If she shows up, fine. If not, then so what?"
Taken slightly aback, "It's just that she and Cyclops usually eat breakfast together."
"Like I said, if she eats with us, fine by me." Jubilee just sat and stared at him. Wolverine finished making the omelets, making two different kinds, for those who felt vegetarian today.
"Here, Jubes. You can make the hash browns while I go get everyone up."
"Why do I have to?"
"Do you want to see Beast without his hair combed?" he gave her a wary glance.
"I'll make the hash browns, fine." She cringed at some images of an even more unkempt blue haired mutant. She scolded herself for not coming up her verbal riposte, "Would that be worse than you right now?" before he left the room. Wolverine wore his yellow pants and stylized boots but no shirt. His dark hair seemed overgrown over his chest, but his dark eyes and ageless look seemed to hold everyone right where he wanted them.
Knocking on Rogue's door, he opened it slightly, poking in his head. "Rogue, come on, Belle. I've got break--" he was caught off guard when he saw her. Rogue lay on her bed, still in the body suit Gambit gave her, the covers kicked down. She lay in a runner's stride facing him. Her eyes remained closed for a few seconds until she realized what had cut Wolverine off. Her nipples were erect and dried wet patches had set in over them. At her groin the rip had spread to open her entire mound to the air. Her lower lips were flushed and swollen and her eyes seemed glazed over when they did open. When a tear fell from each, she blinked, and her vanity took over.
Wolverine could smell the activities of the previous night, but was prudent enough not to say anything. "I made some breakfast. Come on." He closed the door softly behind him.
Next he went further down the hall to Gambit's room. Throwing the door open, he yelled, "Rise and shine, Cajun." The scent that overwhelmed him was partially similar to that of Rogue's room, but it held flavors greater, sweeter. "I'm calling the team together for a decent breakfast."
Shaking his head, Gambit answered back, "Yeah, yeah. Get me on the way back, gramps."
Continuing his quest for the team, he walked further down the hall to Beast's quarters. Ready to yell, he found the blue furred member of the team reading on a couch. "Greetings, second-furriest. From all of your ranting this fine morning, I expect you have something planned. Give me another couple minutes for me to finish these couple hundred pages."
"Sure. Back at the kitchen." The Beast had already gone back to flipping pages. Approaching the door to the corner room of Scott Summers and Jean Grey, Logan passed a hand through his hair, and knocked politely. The door was ajar, and he stepped in. Looking around, he saw Cyclops asleep, alone in bed. From around the corner walked Jean, completely naked. For all his years, he was still taken aback by her beauty, and was still affected by it. She held his gaze for a few seconds, unmoving. Water dripped down her smooth skin, and her hair clung to her face and neck. The hair above perfectly matched that below, and he took in her looks every second he had. Her scent enraptured him, drawing him closer.
"Please, Jean, don't do this to me." He was at her mercy.
Saying nothing, she turned on her heels, giving him a good view of her rear, and stepped back into the bathroom. From there she yelled, "Scott, wake up. Duty calls." Scott stirred a little bit, but Logan just left the room in a cold sweat.
Going down this final hall, he knocked on Psylocke's door. Opening it, thinking nothing could be worse, he found her nude, lifting weights, while hanging from the ceiling by gravity boots. "Betsy, I have some breakfast ready." Her body was covered with sweat, and it was clear that she hadn't slept all night. But the scent that prevailed over the room was not that of hard work, but that of an extreme sexual nature. Doing a few more pumps, she dropped the weights and began to wipe the sweat from her body. Hanging there, running her hands over her skin, she just stared at him.
After he blinked a few times, she did a sit up, and grabbed onto the bar from which she hung. Looking a lot like a bat with the best looking heart shaped rear, she unhooked herself and dropped down from the ceiling, landing on three points, her legs spread wide behind her. Bending down to unbuckle her boots, she held his gaze. Pulling a robe off of a hook on the wall, she pulled it on. Walking to Wolverine, standing in front of him, she knelt in front of him, pulled his tights down over his bulging member, and engulfed it fully. Time seemed to stand still, and he worried about everyone waiting for him. His hands went to pull her head away, but stayed at the sides of her head as she worked at him.
Her fingers massaged his engorged sac as her lips reached his base. Feeling him tense, his fabled stamina depleated to those lovely lips, she withdrew from him and stroked him, directing him down at her open robe. Just then, his seed spewed over her breasts. Load upon thick load fell upon her chest. As Wolverine's shudders died down, she closed her robe and tied the belt. Pulling his pants back up, he led her out of the room.
"Hey, Wolvie. What took so long? I mean, if Gambit beat you back here, your age must be getting to you." She didn't dare assume anything when it came to his hidden agendas. Sitting at a small nearby table, Gambit, already in his outfit, ate the breakfast prepared earlier. Rogue sat partially on a countertop eating her share. Beast hung from a conveniently placed bar in the corner of the extended kitchen. Just down the hall came the leader of the team, struggling with each step, still quite dazed, Jean helping him along.
Gambit looked at Psylocke every few moments, turning his attention back down to his food, his eyes never meeting Rogue's all through breakfast. Scott's head always kept Betsy in view, even though Jean stood right next to him. Jubilee stepped next to Logan, and Betsy went to get her share. Wolverine glanced around nervously, wondering why no one else could smell what had just happened. Jean held his gaze, but his fear of discovery was more disconcerting than her look. Gambit was the next to address Logan, "So, you got sum'tin' planned fo' us today, Wolverine?"
Hesitating a moment, he responed, "I spent all night working on a Danger Room sequence that should prepare us for our next mission. Charlie told me yesterday about what we have to do. It's supposed to be simple, but we have to be ready for anything. Of course, the Danger Room is only for the fighting aspects of the mission, but the opponents we might be facing would be rather unique, even for us. I'll explain it in the briefing room. Scotty, make sure you bring the mission folder Chuck left in your room yesterday."
"Yeah, sure." He was clearly out of it, still. As he looked at Psylocke, she refused to engage in eye contact. Jean nudged him, and they just dabbled in the hash browns.
Psylocke stood by herself in front of the sink, vaguely listening. Rogue approached her, saying, "Hey, Bets. You been workin' early this mornin'? Ah think you been a bit too serious, lately."
"No, Rogue. I've just been trying to sort some things out. How are you and Gambit doing?"
"As well as any couple could without kissin'. You know, you should use that body o' yours to get yourself a man. Ah think you'd feel a lot better."
At the suggestion, Beast nonwithstanding, the men kept Betsy in the corner of an eye, and an ear directed straight at her, awaiting the reply.
"I'm not sure if I should. I think I've gotten through everything pretty well, just by keeping an arms distance from personal."
"Come on, I've got to have someone to live my fantasies for me."
'If only you knew' Psylocke thought, but didn't project. "Let me know sometime, then. Maybe I can get some juicy gossip for your sick libido." Psylocke made sure to smile when she said it, drawing the laugh.
Logan interjected, "Since our fearless leader doesn't seem to be quite here yet, Everyone to the War Room in fifteen minutes. Jean, you can come along, too, if you want."
"I think I will. Thank you, Logan." She let her eyes linger, just to make sure he was uncomfortable.
"Well, Rogue, I've got to shower before our big briefing here, so I'll see you there."
Beast watched everyone, silently noting the oddness.
In her shower, Betsy stayed apart from the water for a few minutes, dabbling her fingers in the stream occasionally to wet them down. The shower consisted of a large glass encasement, with a couple steps down to the drain level. After rubbing Wolverine's seed over her, she sat directed the water down onto her. Her fingers rubbing between her legs, she inserted her left index finger. Slowly moving this around, she added her middle finger, and moved those around inside of her. Then her ring finger joined them in their attempt to fill her. Bending down, but remaining seated, she put in her pinky as well. Moving this around for a full minute, she tired of the few inches she could displace. Brushing her thumb across her clit, she shuddered just before she worked her thumb in to join them. Concentrating deeply, and shutting out the water beating down on her, she kept her hand folded to its smallest radius. Inch by inch, she worked her entire hand into herself. Twisting around, she fingered her own deepest recesses. Taking a deep breath, she made a fist and moved it back and forth. Her arm tiring fast, she allowed her orgasms to sweep over her, just as she manifested her psychic knife.
Pulling her fist from her spasming cunt, she collected her fluids with both hands. Lifting this up to her face, she opens her mouth, and lets it fall over her face, some of it landing in her mouth. Running her hands through her hair, she rinsed off in the falling stream, using no soap.
"Scott, you've never been like this before. You're so distant and cold. Did I do something wrong last night?"
"No, Jean. It's just that I feel unsure of myself as a leader."
"Scott, everyone looks up to you, even Wolverine in his own way. You just hold everyone in such a place that you can't touch them, even if their lives are in your hands. Everyone holds an affection for everyone else on the team, and it's your judgement that makes sure that affection is where it should be, in the open and comfortably among us. They don't need a cold leader, they need a passionate one."
"Thank you, Jean. Are you up for a quickie? You said passion, so I'd like to show you first."
"Oh, Scott. You are just so strange today."
"You didn't answer me."
"Scott. How can you think of sex at a time like this?"
"Let's see. I see a bodacious redhead in front of me, I have an aching erection, and you tell me to be passionate. Then let me." He scooped her up in his arms. Dropping her face down onto the bed, he found the nearly invisible seam of her outfit and pulled her pants down to her ankles. Pulling his own down to accomodate his bulging member, he placed the head at her wetting threshold.
"Scott! You've never been like this before."
He reached forward and grabbed her breasts, pulling her down onto him. They each let out a hard breath. Scott then proceeded to set his rhythm. His abruptness brought her to one rapid orgasm immediately, which further wet the way for him. After she found a more fulfilling one, he removed himself from her, pulled her up to face him, and pushed her to her knees in front of him.
"I don't think you've ever done this before. Try it."
"Scott, I don't think I want too."
"I'm not going to force you to, but if you don't then just kneel there." Jean hesitated, and turned her head to cry. Ignoring her, Scott moved his hand over himself, aiming straight at her. Feeling the rush reach that unstoppable point, he put a hand on Jean's cheek, and turned her face towards his quivering member. Holding her face there, he spewed his load onto her face, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and eyelashes, covering her lips.
Wiping himself on her hair, he replaced himself in his pants and left the room. Holding herself in her degraded state, she whimpered, dropped a couple tears, and as she headed for the bathroom, licked her lips.
In the War Room, Psylocke was the last to show up. Cyclops stood proudly in front of everyone, several monitors behind him displaying their recent history. Jean sat in the back of the room, as did Gambit.
"Over the next few weeks, we will be encountering a new threat to humanity, both normal and mutant. First of all, the Acolytes and the Upstarts are getting together to restart the Hellfire Club. If those two groups were to function together, very little would stand in their way, since they have connections across the board including anyone left with claims to Magneto and the Hand. They have a full range of powers amongst themselves, and the backing to set themselves up as the foremost Superpower on the planet.
"Assisting us will be X-Factor. The Gold team, sans Jean, is with the Professor in the Balkans putting down the new mutant uprising."
Into the room walked the five members of the team: Alex Summers, aka Havok, Lorna Dane aka Polaris, Jamie Madrox aka Multiple Man, Guido aka Strong Guy, and Pietro Maximoff aka Quicksilver.
Madrox was given a lot of responsibility. He was to run the base operations from the mansion, and also participate on the main adventure group.
"So, where is Xavier, Scott?" Val Cooper asked.
"He's off with the other team saving the western world again."
"Well, I hope he gets back to give some insight to all of these missions. Anyways, I want to say goodbye to my team for a little while here. I get to stay here and run things while you guys are off running a tab on property damage."
"To each our own."
"Havok, remember, you're just as good as your brother, if not better." She grimaced at the innuendo. "Have fun." She swayed her hips at him as she walked to the girls. "Polaris, Rahne, don't let the rest of the team get caught between your little squabbles."
"Don't worry about it, Val. Rahne and I've made up already. Nothing to worry about." The glimmer in her eye seemed to hold a little more than expected.
"Yo, Guido. You're the only real man on the job here, so keep 'em in line."
"Sure thing, Val. I really like being patronized. Just for that, I might make you come to my gym."
"When you get back, you big lump." She jumped up and kissed his cheek, like a little girl.
Madrox, the Multiple Man, feeling rather stressed, decided to relieve himself, the way only he could. "Val? I've already made my dupes for mission, and I have a couple sitting monitoring the War Room. I'm going to eat now, okay?" "Sure, Jamie. Actually, mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." As he turned from her for the slightest second, his tight grin escaped him a second until it returned as he turned back.
"So, where's the kitchen, Jamie?"
"It's down this hall, last door on the right. By the way, Val. Pick a number between one and a hundred."
"I've always hated games like that. Okay, a hundred. A hundred what?"
"Oh, you'll see."
As they arrived, he turned the knob, let Val enter the dark room first. Stepping behind her, he punched the frame of the door with both hands. As his mutant ability dictated, two Madroxes appeared on either side of her. Stepping inside, he closed the door, but left the light off.
"By the way, Val, this isn't the kitchen." The two dupes held her arms tight and her mouth covered. "Oh, and a hundred is the number of dupes you gotta empty before the night's over." Her eyes were wide, and her body was tense. As she kicked one of them, another one appeared in front of her. This one systematically began removing her clothes. First her skirt was dropped, and then her panties joined it. Next, her suit jacket reached the pile, and then her blouse was torn from her, just to shock her. Her bra was first flipped down, and then removed.
"You've always been in charge, haven't ya' babe? Well, guess who's in charge now."
She was thrown to a bed, her screams now echoing in the enclosed room. "Jamie!! How dare you! You have no idea what I can do to you, do you?"
"Maybe not, but I have a great idea as to what you can do for me."
"I mean it, Jamie. I barely lasted that last time when there were only ten of you."
"You always said, we need to grow. Don't try to excuse yourself from your own rules, now. I tell you what, I'll let you off with ten this time. Tomorrow, you get twenty, the day after, thirty, and then forty. That way, you can still make that hundred mark you set earlier."
"Jamie..."
"Val? Remember, I outnumber you. Let's see, there are four of me, right now." Two hits to each of the other three allowed six more to join the fray. "Okay. Now Val, you know how I like to start, so get to work."
Crawling off of the bed, she walked on her knees over the first one. Looking up at him, she took his partially flacid member between her lips. Once he was fully at attention, she went onto the next one. After all ten of them were sufficiently hard, she fell to her hands. The first one she sucked to firmness mounted her from behind. The next one she helped stepped in front of her to receive more oral ministrations. The others encircled the three, gently stroking themselves as she submitted to the sandwich.
Feeling their spasms increasing, she felt no need to draw them out, so she increased the pressure her tongue was delivering, and pushed back on the one behind her. Her back arched and her mouth overflowed as they each came into her.
"Two down, Val. Good job. Now,"
"Try me," another stepped forward. Pulling her to her feet, he maneuvered her to the bed, lay her down, facing up, and slid into her, missionary style. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing gently, and his motions revealed his awareness to her body.
The others waited in the shadows. The eyes didn't move as he calmly increased his thrusts and spilled himself into her.
"After such a tender display (I'm so ashamed of me)"
"I get to chart some unexplored territory," another finished again. Gruffly picking her up, leaving her face in a pillow, and facing her down, his member found its way between her smooth, firm buttocks. Holding out a hand, he received a tube of lubricant from another, and he placed a golf ball sized load on her puckered hole. With his tip, he mashed slowly into the pile, and then slowly wedged his way in. As his hips met hers, he withdrew completely, and started over. Suddenly, he pushed his entire length into her, and found the muffled scream. Rapidly, he thrust into her rear, as her screams died down to a silent open mouth. As he neared his climax, he reached forward, grabbed her long blond hair, and pulled her up, making the angle more difficult on her, making her tighten around his spewing length.
"Oh, man. That was great. I gotta try that." The next one mimicked him, but pulled her up by grabbing her breasts from behind as he sent his load into her. "Okay, Val. That's four of me. Now, we'll make you feel better. Guys?" Four more stepped forward, each grabbing a limb. Facing her up, they tied her to the posts, spread-eagled, classically. One of them climbed between her knees, his face in her groin. Another straddled her stomach, and the last two stood on the side of the bed. The first one set his lips to hers, his tongue darting around her genitalia. The one on her chest rested his member between her breasts. The other two placed their lips on her nipples, their hands pressing her breasts together. Her moans were instantaneous, and deep. As she tried to twist and writhe, her frustration at the ties heightened her pleasure. The penis between her breasts now started to oscillate. In the throes of her bondage, the waves of her orgasms passed over her in rapid succession.
At the height of it, she felt herself penetrated below and another presented himself to her lips. She accepted this out of sheer gratitude, and as she fellt one spill himself between her legs, she lost track of the member between her breasts. Opening her eyes, she found another member in waiting by her mouth, and a hand stroking it. Just as one pulled back, the other touched on her lips. With the two heads touching each other right in front of her mouth, they sent simultaneous loads into her mouth.
When the flow stopped, and she came up for air, she felt her bonds being broken. Moved over in the bed, the original Madrox lay down next to her. His member resting on her thigh, she rolled over on top of him and settled down onto it. The other two stepped onto the bed. One came up behind her, settling himself between his creator's legs, he moved his member up into the rear of his superior. Val yelped as he reached full depth. As she opened her mouth for a large breath, the last one's instrument found its sheath. The indomitable triange was formed, and everyone was being more than satisfied. Being the same person, they all found a simultaneous orgasm, filling her every orifice. Val collapsed onto the groins of Madrox, and they collapsed onto her. She drifted into a fierce slumber as she was settled into the bed more comfortably.
The War room was busy with roughly forty Madroxes running around, doing various tasks, checking monitors, scribbling down odd notes, and generally keeping the job as difficult as possible.
In the hangar, the two teams, with all thirteen mutants boarded the Blackbird and found their seats. Guido remained slightly cramped in the tail of the place. Lorna Dane, known commonly as Polaris, walked back to the compartment he was strapped into, and checked his harnesses. "Gee, thanks, Lorna. Did I ever tell you how ravishing you look when you strap me in?"
"Every chance you get, Guido." Her voice was tight, and nonchalant.
"You know, Lorn', I think you should really look into working out with bigger men. I think you're the second best looking person in the world."
"And who's supposed to be the best, Guido?" she was still checking his belt.
"Ce moi." His fingers fanned across his neckline just to imitate a commercial model.
She giggled slightly. "Oh, really, now. Guido, you should watch who you flirt with, 'cuz you might not always get what you expect."
"Oh, don't break my heart, Lorna." His lips formed a pout that melted her icy demeanor.
"Oh, come on, Guido. I'll always love you." She kissed his cheek, and left a big grin on his face.
In an coffeehouse on the outskirts of London, two faces hovered over a wooden checkerboard. Plain pieces rested on its surface as a clockhand on one of two faces moved silently.
"So tell me, Gamesmaster, exactly who are we playing against?"
"The challenge of the game is to measure the opponent, not identify him. You really must learn quicker to be a key member of the Upstarts, young Shinobi." "But the Acolytes are just as worthy opponents as the X-Men. What use is it not to let us know who the game is with?"
"I have reasons for every move in the game. The opponents constantly change, but the game still goes on. The opening, even though non-standard, is still rather predicible in its outcome. The middle game has been played to the fullest by the X-Men in the past. Now with the Acolytes coming onto the board, the only thing changing is the perspective. The goal remains the same, only now we're looking at the board from a slightly different angle."
"Your riddles are tiresome. Why don't you speak plainly?"
"If I did that, I'd be no better than a mutant."
"So what are we up against here, Scott?"
"We're not exactly sure, but with Madrox and Val running the mansion, and hooking up with a couple contacts here, I'm sure we'll be more than enough for them."
"Who are our contacts?"
"You'll see them in a couple seconds." Before the hatch even opened, two more were among the crew on the grounded plane. The smell of brimstone marked off the presence of Nightcrawler. And the spooky phasing ability of another through the floor made everyone aware that Kitty Pryde, aka Shadowcat, was present. After all of the pleasantries were done, eventually outside due the cramped quarters of the jet. As they headed off to the cars in waiting, Polaris heard a soft but definite cry, "Lorna..."
At that moment, she forgot to let Guido out of the harness in the Blackbird, and guessed that he fell asleep. Telling everyone else just to leave a car for her, she ran back to the plane. As she entered the compartment he sat in, she found him in tears as his large fingers were unable to manipulate the harness. Seeing him like this made her maternal nature come out and she hugged him as she magnetically undid the lock.
"Oh, Guido. I'm sorry. It's just that Kitty and Kurt showed up and we all got wrapped up in greeting them."
"Don't worry about it Lorna." He sniffled quietly, his childish performance unquestioned. "I'm used to being left alone. Lila did it before. I would've just waited until nightfall to break the damn thing and go back home, wherever that is." The guilt trip worked flawlessly.
"Oh, come on, Guido. I'll never leave you like that again." She hoped he understood her. "How can I make it up to you?"
Guido understood perfectly. "Help me out of this cubicle." As he tried to get up, she pressed against the wall, trying to direct his huge body out the door. Unable to avoid contact, his chest pressed against her face as he stood. Unable to look down, she felt a something push at her stomach.
"Guido, back off, you're crushing me."
"Sorry, Lorna." He pulled away, only long enough to shut the door as she looked down to see his huge penis poking her. For some reason, she didn't quite expect this from an eight foot tall four hundred pound man. Perhaps she never thought about it.
"Guido, what are you doing?"
"Trying to be made up to." With that, he lifted her by her uniform, and let her fall out of it as though a rag doll. Her pants still on, he pulled them down to fully expose her.
"Oh, God, Guido. I don't think it's going to happen. We both already know that we shouldn't, but I just don't think it would fit in the first place."
"I think we should make it fit the first place, since the second would be even worse, Lorna."
"Guido, I'm serious."
"So am I, Ms. Dane. First, say ahhh..."
"Guido..." was all she could get out before it was at her lips. Even as she opened her mouth, only about five inches of him could fit into her straining mouth.
"Oh, Ms. Dane. I don't think your mouth was made for this," was his response after a few minutes of trying to work her tongue, just before he took himself out.
"Guido. I really don't think this is going to work."
"Work with me here, Lorna. Open 'em wide."
As she spread her legs, he noted first her absolute baldness below, and then asked her, "Do you shave, or are you normally like this?"
"It was completely removed, back in the days when the Shadow King was in control of Legion. He yanked it out hair by hair."
"I was just wondering, what color it was."
"Just like all the blondes you normally see, it was brown."
"Then?" he dawdled a finger through her green locks.
"It was a bet I made with Havok. He bet me he could make me come thirty times in an hour."
"And if he wouldn've won?"
"His hair would be green."
"Oh," he sat in mild contemplation. "Climb on up, Lorna. There's only fifteen inches to take. This was the main reason Lila kept me around for so long. No one else could fill her up like I could."
"I'm trying to, Guido, but look."
Bending down slightly, the height between their groins was matched, except the shadow of the head of his penis completely covered her open lips. In wonder, he prodded against it a couple times, drawing a couple yelps from Lorna.
"Okay, then. Try my finger first." With that, his index finger slid effortlessly into her.
"Oh, God, Guido. That's thicker than Alex."
"Okay, then try this one." His middle finger, soon replaced his index.
"Christ. That's worse than the Shadow King."
"Good. Now try them both on for size." As they both penetrated her, she let forth a ghastly scream, and if not for her juices flowing down his hand, she might have projected and image of pain.
"Good, Lorna. Now, you seem ready." He lifted her onto him, her weight resting on the head.
She reached down, pulled her thighs up, and tried to pull the lips apart even further.
"Jesus Fucking Christ. Guido, it's going in. I never thought I could."
"I always knew you could, Lorna. Now, hold onto something. I want to give you a good sound fucking."
Her hands reached out and got hold of some cables, and her legs moved from his chest to around his waist. His hands held her buttocks and supported her lower body. When she settled into place, he started moving himself further into her. Even as her eyes rolled and fluttered, he kept going until reaching a barrier two inches short of complete penetration.
"Don't do it, Guido. It that's my cervix you're bumping into."
"I know, Lorna." At that, he began to withdraw himself. When his head was the only part remaining inside her, he began to thrust his length back into her. She cursed as he picked up speed. She cursed as he bumped her cervix again. She cursed as he shoved a finger into her rectum.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, and a good pint of fluid from her, Guido yelled to her, "I'm gonna cum now, Lorna. I'm gonna be in real deep, too, so hang on." As his load started to loose into her, she accepted its warmth. Still more came out, and he began to slide out of her. When he slipped free, he let her hang from the cables, and aimed his spurting member at her, each load landing on a different part. Her face was being drenched, her breasts, completely covered, her thighs, glistening. When he let it down, a string still hung from it to her, and then to the floor.
"Oh, God, Guido. I never knew you had so much."
"Anytime you want a bath, just let me know, honey." With that, he replaced himself in his pants. "We better get you cleaned up. Do you remember where we're supposed to be going?"
"Yeah, an inn just outside of London. They should have left directions in the car."
"Gee, Lorna. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Here, hand me a towel, would ya'?" She proceeded to wipe herself down. "Now Guido, you have to be careful. If Alex catches you, you'll be off the team."
"Oh, don't worry about him. I'm sure, by the time this is over, that everything should be worked out."
"Well, I just want to say that I warned you." She proceeded to get dressed, and lead them to the car. She let the rain pour on her outside. On a backstreet, she even got out and stripped, allowing the rain to wash any more evidence from her.
Guido just watched.
This being a work of progress, and with the ego of almost any Image writer, the timing of the postings of the various parts will be rather sporadic. Actually, I never noticed it before,
But "Image-writer", need I say more?
-Solar