King of the Amazons update

But the thickened slap of his balls against her ass told her she’d be well-taken care of. His shaft frictioned her clit with each powerful stroke. One thrill after another pulsed through her pelvis. Even the surge of lust she felt when he drew out of her was rich and vibrant in a way she’d never known before. He wasn’t just fucking her, he was initiating her into a life of sexual bliss—just like all the Wayne wives she’d ever envied.

Now he dropped his head into her breasts; she shoved them as hard against his face as she could. His lips sucked her left nipple and his tongue scoured it. An endless supply of pleasure: tingles chasing each other through all the flesh of her bust.

The bedsprings groaned in measured rhythm. One stroke after another, one pump leading to the next, each one a little climax and a maddening promise of more. Monet was too frenzied, too overwhelmed to relax into orgasm. She knew she would come when Bruce did. And it would be the finish that all the rest of her sex life had been leading up to.

Time raged on while the mounting passion fed her hunger to overflowing. She needed every stroke, every thrust, and infinitely more. Her pussy was clenching and fluttering like a well-trained animal, his animal, and with each pump the feeling got sweeter.

She didn’t know how long it kept going. Only that eventually Bruce grunted, his body shaking with a final loss of control. His cock pounded like an explosion barely contained within her sex and she knew he was at his limit. He was giving her the last of his measured strokes before he simply rutted her, finishing her off with all the frenzy left in his body.

And she joined him, her cunt perfectly receiving him in their mutual striving for the ultimate ecstasy. Every nerve in her body was taking the sensations he gave her. She was being forced upward, stroke by stroke, to the moment where her need and her fulfillment were perfectly matched. Now it was here and all her lust would be annihilated in a wonderful cleansing blast.

Monet cried out as the heavenly feeling racked through her, almost too much to take, her body was spasming as it tried to respond in proper fashion. Her pussy clenched, her body shuddered with his throbs, and his pumps rocked her down to the soul.

Oh, no one’s ever given me so much before! she thought dizzily, coming and coming, thinking that finally, this was the fuck someone as perfect as her should get…

Bruce laid his body down on hers and breathed in, slow deep breaths, as the last shudders of ejaculation slaked his lust. Monet was as good as he had anticipated and more. He had expected a woman as beautiful as her to be sampling some of her countless admirers, but it was clear from her gratitude that she’d been holding out for someone worthy of her. Bruce resolved then and there that he would keep giving her the lavish treatment that would allow her to feel satiated. She deserved it: beautiful face, beautiful body, a passion as strong as his, a snug little pussy, and that wonderfully bitchy personality he managed to take pleasure in. There was something about a woman who was so justifiably and unjustifiably elitist. It certainly provoked a new response in him.

“You’re a tiger,” Monet murmured, cozy, her long silky legs stretching against his.

“Would that make you the hunter?” Bruce asked. His prick was still buried inside her.

She giggled and when she did, her womanhood motioned delicately, stirring a mix of old and new pleasure in him. Monet kissed his throat, arching her sweet breasts into his thicket of chest hair.

“I think I’m the girl who gets eaten by the tiger,” she breathed.

“And what a meal you are,” Bruce replied, tensing his cock.

It wouldn’t be long now until he was ready to go again, and this time he had an inkling that the shoe would be on the other foot. Monet wasn’t the type to take anything lying down, even love. Perhaps Bruce would teach her the joys of not being on top all the time. Or perhaps they’d skip that lesson for now…

***

Over the next few days, a silent war waged over the villa. Bruce and Diana and Monet avoided each other, they tried to take up space, they fucked and fucked—but never as one triangle. Diana tried to steer clear of Bruce and Monet one moment; the next, she’d claim Bruce, fucking him hard, enjoying it but all the time wondering how the sex was with Monet. Had she earned Bruce’s cum, as he put it? Had she been fucked by Bruce’s standards or was it still just a game? Could she even take being fucked, being seeded? Could Diana… if she outclassed Monet so much, then why was Bruce spending so much time at Monet’s place instead of theirs? Taking his time inducting a new member into the harem? And would that make it better or worse, that Diana could suddenly have a new wife or that Bruce would spend this much energy and effort on a woman outside the circle?

One night she woke up with Bruce not there. Naked, Diana slipped free of the covers and put on a thin robe. She had not awoken for no reason. There was something amiss in the villa. And as if on cue, she heard a noise.

Silently, Diana padded towards it. Was it Bruce? That was the most likely thing. And if it wasn’t, Diana was sure she could deal with whatever it was—no need for stealth.

“Bruce? Is that you?” she called out.

It wasn’t.

Lex stepped out of the shadows. He was already stripped down, undressed to his belted trousers. His feet were bare. Diana could see the toned muscles in his arms, the virile rigidity flexing in his chest.

“Bruce isn’t here. I am.”

“I should’ve smelled it was you,” Diana sniffed.

“Perhaps I shower too often. A woman as earthy as yourself must prefer a certain natural musk.”

“Not entirely,” Diana allowed. “But a cold shower might be in order.”

“I’d love one,” Lex retorted. “Care to join me?”

“Yes.” Diana slipped her robe away from her body. “But you’ll be joining me.”

They had no clothes on by the time they made it to the bathroom. Diana turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Lex closed the door. Then he got down onto his hands and knees. That way, like a supplicant, he went into the shower with Diana.

She looked down, shocked at his behavior. He began kissing her thighs, licking them. The feel of his rough tongue somewhere so intimate made Diana moan and lean against the side of the shower.

“You’d think we were a little beyond foreplay?” she asked him, laughing. But she didn’t pull away as she might’ve done another time. She let him get in his exploration. Diana knew he could not get her so stimulated that she would give into him—not unless she was willing to be seduced.

“Just showing you I don’t think so highly of myself.”

“You do.”

“I think highly of you as well. And I don’t take so much pride in myself that I don’t recognize how much effort you’re worth.”

“Effort in what enterprise?” Diana returned. “Owning me? Experiencing me? Merely gaining my favor?”

“I’m an ambitious man. I’ll try for all I can get.”

“You may get nothing.”

“I’ve already gotten something,” Lex corrected her. “Now let’s see how much more I can get.”

Diana let him. She was enjoying this foreplay. She knew where it was leading and she saw no reason not to let it go there. Bruce might’ve had her in the palm of her hand, but he didn’t have her under his thumb. She’d see what Lex could do with his hands.

Lex licked up the inside of her thigh. The water heated them both. Diana couldn’t remember the last time she’d been seduced so thoroughly. She felt his tongue demanding all the feeling, all the flavor, of her sensitive inner thigh. The water kept hitting her skin, bouncing off her in dancing rivulets. Lex had made the whole world erotic, everything she could see and touch and taste. The midnight rendezvous, the taboo approach, the unconventional location for their tryst. He did not have the command over her body that Bruce had, but that just meant he put in more effort. Diana found being the focus of such a totality of attention utterly arousing.

The water stung and bit her soft skin like another teasing touch of Lex’s. With his tongue coming ever closer to her sex, Diana knew she would come. The question was how many times.