Bare With Me

At last his cock was fully in her and Peter paused to catch his breath. He felt elephantine inside her, monstrously oversized, like there was no more room in her cunt for another inch of him.

Laura couldn’t believe how much she’d taken either. It was completely exhilarating to her. Every moment that passed, she felt herself soaking his erection with her molten lust.

“Fuck me, Peter,” she keened. “I really want it.”

Peter groaned, almost unable to believe such a beautiful woman was having this response because of him, him. “Oh Christ, I’m going to give it to you…”

He began fucking her in deep, slow pumps—careful not to overtax the incredibly tight way they fit together.

Laura sobbed with pleasure. The raking of his engorged cock against every wall, every fold of her pussy was insane, a continuous rush of stimulation. She drenched his member with layer after layer of her cream, but there was no lubricating just how big he was in her. When he fucked her faster, it hurt, but she welcomed the pain. It beat the maddening denial of only getting a fraction of what he could do to her.

“Ooohh, yes, give it to me, make me come!”

Peter snorted, growled, plowed away like a stallion in the middle of its rut. He tried to block out how Laura was enjoying herself, cut himself off from the pleasure so he could last longer, but every jubilant cry Laura let out spurred him on. He wanted more, to make Laura feel more, and every glimpse he got of Laura’s face showed him how she was hurtling towards climax too fast to feel anything else.

The pressure was building in her cunt and she wailed in delight just to be so close to release.

“Fuck me, fuck meeee!” she howled.

Laura thought about how much time she’d wasted, growing up the way she had, never even knowing that sex was an option for her, then working as a prostitute, thinking sex was only that instead of all this. Now it seemed to be the only thing that mattered. She didn’t know if she could ever get enough of it.

Maybe if she spent every night with Peter for the next fifty years, she could feel like she’d made up for lost time. Because she didn’t care now about how much she might’ve missed out on. Every climax was more powerful than the last and Peter seemed determined to keep it that way from how he was fucking her. Laura felt a dizzying bomb-blast of perfection from deep inside herself.

“UNHH! Peter! Baby! I’m coming!” she screamed.

Peter gave a growl, pounding into her so hard that, nearby, the van rocked on its transmission. The sudden roughness of his thrusts only made Laura’s orgasm more intense. She lost herself in it as the pleasure ran through her—the next thing she felt was the scalding flood of his seed taking over her.

“Take it, Laura!” Peter bellowed. “Ohh, shit, aaggghhhh!”

He acted bashful afterwards, like it was embarrassing that he had gotten so into fucking her instead of flattering. But Laura got it. He didn’t like to think about how much of an animal he could be. While Laura had a hard time thinking of how civilized people could be when they were really so savage.

After a dozen miles more driving, they passed Rogue on the side of the road. Her convertible’s hood was up and smoke was drifting out from the engine. Peter pulled over.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Rogue put her hands on her hips in lieu of telling him what a stupid question that was.

“Laura, you’re good with cars, aren’t you?”

Laura grunted affirmatively. If she wanted to spend time with Logan, she either had to drink or take apart engines. She took apart engines.

“I’ll take Rogue the rest of the way. You get her car fixed and follow us.”

Laura nodded. Rogue piled into the passenger seat, screwing her butt down into the warmth Laura had left.

Now that she had gotten over her inability to regulate her power, Rogue’s dare for anything to touch her had become an outright challenge. She wore a pair of jean shorts, not even buttoned, the fly opening up to a tuft of pubic hair with a white-hot streak through it: no panties. Her top was a very slight tanktop—no fabric to it once it covered her breasts. Her long, lean stomach, glossy with sweat, was almost as enthralling as the nubile breasts held inside their scraps of cloth. And her legs were sweet and slender, every inch of them bare a treasure. She wore socks, but they were pushed down flat against her sneakers, showing off a butterfly tattoo on her ankle.

“Thank Gawd, air conditionin’!” Rogue moaned, turning the fan up and laying back in her chair, letting the cool air awaken her dime-sized nipples. She snuck glances at Peter to see if he noticed.

Peter’s eyes stayed fixedly on the view from the windshield.

Rogue crossed her legs. She wondered if Peter had gotten some from Laura on the road. Rogue knew Laura could be pretty casual about that sorta stuff. Wondered if she could be casual enough to heat up a quiet kinda guy like Peter. But then, it was always the quiet ones. Rogue had had to absorb his powers a few times and some of the things he thought of doing to nice girls like her were enough to make a nun burst into flames.

But for now, Peter took so little interest in her that Rogue just about took it as a slight.

She wondered just how much that little skank Laura had drained his balls. Little Miss Wolverine couldn’t even wait for them to get to this nature preserve or whatever that Peter had inherited. The moment she’d gotten him alone, she’d sunk her claws into him. Maybe literally.

Well, by the time Laura got the car fixed and caught up with them, Rogue would have Mr. Parker proposing marriage. See how Kinney liked that.