Atlas Obscura: Smashing

“I don’t want to see you in that outfit anymore,” Tom Strange said, his voice firm as ever, with almost none of the casual lightness that Pantha so enjoyed bringing out in him.

“Oh?” Pantha asked. She reached for the knot between her breasts that held her animal-skin top together. “If you insist.”

Tom should’ve known better than to give her such a straight line. Normally, she wouldn’t reward him for foreplay so lacking in seduction, but she supposed the important thing was that he wanted to fuck her and she wanted to be fucked.

Princess Pantha looked like she was barely into her twenties, still at her athletic and sexual prime despite all the life she’d technically lived. Her frame was tall and muscular—not as tall as Tom, but then few were—and dominated by her 38-C breasts. For all her Amazonian physique, she had more curves than a Martin guitar, and she showed it off in her favorite outfit, a bra and loincloth made from the fur of a mad leopard she’d unfortunately had to put down.

The bra adhered tightly to her full breasts, not offering support—her supple flesh didn’t need much—so much as concealment, and a bare minimum of that. While her loincloth was only a length of cord cinched around her waist, with flaps of leopard hide falling over the curve of her ass and the hill of her pubis. It was a testament to Tom’s fortitude that he could carry on a serious conversation with her in a get-up that could’ve easily passed muster at a strip club—moreso that he could watch her undo her top and allow her tits to bounce free without coming in his pants. Now the only thing that Pantha wore above the waist was her luscious black hair, falling down to her cleavage as if further drawing the eye to her gravity-defying bosom.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tom said, still trying to sound firm, though the bulge in his pants was firmer than his voice could ever be. “That outfit is distracting. Every time I see it I want to…”

“Yes?” Pantha prompted, canting her hips to draw up the dangling length of her loincloth. It came down to mid-thigh, but she’d long since learned how to shift her stance so that it seemed much shorter.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in the Oval Office with you, trying to listen to the President, while all I can think about is how much I want to fuck you?”

“I think so,” Pantha cooed, shifting her weight again. “It took you, what, ten minutes after we left to have me? Remarkable self-control. Both before and during the sex. If I hadn’t been on birth control, I think you even could’ve pulled out…”

A smile flickered over Tom’s face. “Maybe. I’m giving you fair warning here, Pantha. I’ll no longer be responsible for my actions. The next time I see you in that costume, I’m giving into my urges. No matter where we are, no matter who’s there.”

“And that’s meant to dissuade me?” Pantha asked. “I grew up among animals, darling. I see nothing unnatural about the mating process. If you want me, take me—it’s no different than eating an apple.”

“Alright then. What about going to the bathroom?”

Pantha wrinkled her nose. “That’s just gross. Do that in private.”

“You’re vast. You contain multitudes.”

Pantha reached under her breasts and jiggled them. “They go with my child-bearing hips.” They had a good heft already; she wondered how big they’d get once Tom had started a family with her, like his counterpart Tom Strong on the other Earth. “I guess I was just made to be bred. You can feel free to help me prove it.”

“Hopefully in a bed, after dark, with the lights out,” Tom insisted.

She pouted. “You big galoot—you’re really going to hurt my feelings if I keep having to stand here with my tits hanging out and no one ravishing me.”

Tom took a step toward her, hesitant, like he was trying to decide how much he should give into her while still conveying the seriousness of his message. He settled on pointing a finger at her and saying “New costume,” before he drank her into his arms like a bottle being filled with water.

***

Carol lounged around the house most of the morning, had a sandwich for lunch, then for a change of pace decided to suntan in the backyard. She slipped into a tiny two-piece suit, put on a pair of white sandals, and was about to go out when the doorbell rang.

It was Tom Strange, standing tall and erect, with the authority of a man of fifty, but no silver in his hair, no wrinkles on his handsome face, no diminishment of his ruddy physique from his Olympian prime.

“Oh. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Carol smiled, folding her arms over her low-cut top in deference to his discomfort. “I was just going to get some tanning done, but then, I suppose there are some of us science heroes who don’t march around in much more than this. Maybe I should try getting used to it—see if I want to update my look.”

Tom coughed uncomfortably. “I’m sure you’ll look just fine whatever you wear, Carol.”

“That’s sweet of you to say. As long as I’ve got my hat, I don’t suppose I have to wear anything at all. How’s the old expression go—‘you can leave your hat on’? Come in, come in…”

Then she saw Diana driving up, pulling her Studebaker to the curb.

“There she is,” Carol muttered, giving her a wave. “I’ve been waiting on her to do her shopping for two hours. Oh well. Wanna help me feed the skel?”

“Certainly,” Tom said, stepping inside. Carol closed the door behind him, though leaving it open a crack for Diana to come in. “I just came to pay a courtesy call. I was in the area and thought I’d see if anything was piling up on your end, but if all that’s going on is lunch, that’s more than okay.”

They ducked into the kitchen, quickly whipping up some simple snacks. “Let’s eat out by the pool,” Carol said, and took the platter out onto the deck, setting it down on the patio table.

Diana soon joined them, dropping her shopping bags by the kitchen door. She looked darling in a pair of white shorts, a short-sleeved blue sweater, and tennis shoes.

Pantha, on the other hand, wore two sets of animal skins: one a loincloth and one a top.

“Hey, Carol,” Diana called. “Look who I ran into at the mall. What do you think—should we keep her?”

Tom saw Pantha as he was pouring iced tea into three glasses. He stopped, setting the pitcher up with the last glass only half-full. Then he walked toward her seriously.

“Pantha, you know how I feel about that outfit.”

Girlishly, Pantha clasped her hands behind her back and sloped her shoulders. She looked up at him hopefully. “I seem to recall you like it… a lot…”

“Oh, come on, Tom, lighten up,” Carol called. “It’s a classic.”

“Yeah,” Diana said, “get with the times. There are girls wearing far less these days.”

“What right does he have to tell her what to wear anyway?” Carol added.

“He’s my mate,” Pantha said, almost moaning. She wondered if his ultimatum would turn out to be a bluff. Her heart thumped in her throat as she waited for an answer. “This outfit is meant to get attention, Tom. Your attention most of all.”

A twinkle came into Tom’s stone-serious eyes. “Ladies,” he said, clearly referring to Carol and Diana even as he kept eying Pantha. Indeed, it seemed he could not take his eyes off of her. “This woman is dressing in a way that demands to be ravished. I’m going to be the one to do it. If you don’t wish to be witness to that, I suggest you leave immediately.”

Carol’s eyes flickered to Diana. “Is he serious?”

“I think he’s serious about everything. Why wouldn’t he be serious about that?”

Giving Pantha’s skimpy outfit a look, Carol had to agree.

Pantha untied the knot holding her top together. Then she did the same to her loincloth. Both dropped away, leaving her bare. Carol and Diana gaped. From behind her, they could see both the fullness of her high, firm buttocks and the contours of her breasts in profile when she turned her upper body. She had no tan-lines. It seemed as if she went au naturel even more than she wore her cavewoman costume.

Tom set his legs akimbo. His erection was obvious. Pantha flew to him, embracing him with all of her naked body. She didn’t care if Carol and Diana were watching. It only added to the excitement of him fucking her. She loved simply being pressed against his manly chest, awaiting the delights he and only he could give her.

Tom grabbed Pantha by the arms and flung her towards the pool, but he didn’t let go of her. He only scared her—Pantha squealed in fear before she jumped back from the water, her breasts quivering. Then Tom caught her in his arms again and kissed her deeply.

“Oh God,” Carol whispered. “That lucky girl…”

“He’s not having a bad day either,” Diana retorted.

Pantha wiggled out of Tom’s embrace, dancing away from his stiff prick to drop herself into the pool. She came up for air, her breasts bounding on the surface as if floating, her smoky eyes looking readily at Tom. He was quick to strip off his shirt, then his belt. To kick off his shoes and skin off his pants, then jump into the water with her and swim under the surface to Pantha.

Watching, Carol and Diana could see his broad, muscular back and firm, toned ass brush against the surface of the clear water. Then he was next to Pantha, coming up with his shaggy wet hair plastered to his skull. Pantha purred as she wiped it away from his eyes.

“Should we really still be watching?” Carol asked.

“If they minded, they wouldn’t be doing this in front of us,” Diana reasoned. “Oh God, I’m starting to wish I’d had a go at that man when I had the chance.”

“You’re awful,” Carol said.

“You think they’d be interested in swapping?”

“Oh God, don’t get my hopes up…”

Pantha and Tom stood in the deep end now. The water was over Pantha’s head, but not Tom’s. He held her up as they kissed, her breasts pillowed against his proud chest. Carol tried to memorize every detail of the sight. She knew she would be touching herself as soon as she was alone and she didn’t want to forget anything. The more she remembered, she felt sure, the better she would come.

Pantha slipped out of Tom’s thick arms again, swimming away from him, and Tom swam after her, grabbing at her, but not trying too hard to catch her. He treated Pantha like a wild, if friendly, animal. One that he could pet, but which might turn on him, claw on him, if he took too many liberties with her.

But Carol also thought this animal was definitely going to end up with an owner.

“God, just fuck her already,” Diana moaned. “How can he put up with a cock that hard when she’s right there?”

“Don’t open your legs too wide,” Carol quipped. “He might decide to go for you instead.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Seriously?” Carol demanded.

Now Pantha clambered up onto the side of the pool opposite Carol and Diana. They kept watching, hoping that the show wasn’t over. When Tom pulled himself up after her, his manhood swinging like a club between his legs, they felt vindicated.

Tom put his arm around Pantha’s waist and pulled her too close to get away again. She leaned into his embrace and kissed him. He lifted a hand to one of her firm breasts, making Carol and Diana gasp. They watched him squeeze the soft hill so tightly that her tanned flesh pushed between his fingers.

“God, I wish I could feel that tit,” Diana sighed.

Carol could only nod in agreement. “I hate just watching.”

“It’d be worse if we weren’t watching,” Diana said.

Carol nodded again.

Tom lowered Pantha down to the ground, still kissing her. They could see her slit now, pink and gleaming, seeming to flare with color among all Pantha’s bronzed flesh. But from the distance they were at, they couldn’t make out much else besides that splotch of color differentiating it from its surroundings.

“I wish we could get closer,” Diana sighed.

“They might stop,” Carol reminded her.

“Then maybe we should… join in…?” Carol turned to look at her and Diana returned her gaze, trying to weigh the look her girlfriend gave her. “Go big or go home, right?”

“I’m not sure my pussy could take going that big,” Carol moaned, looking at the two naked bodies on the other side of their pool again.

“I know,” Diana said, almost panting. “It’s been a long time since I was with Tim.”

“He’s that big?” Carol asked in a breathless whisper, but Diana acted like she couldn’t hear her. Maybe she’d gotten into Tom and Pantha’s act of pretending Carol didn’t exist.

Tom kept massaging Pantha’s breasts, making the voyeurs hotter and hotter with each passing moment, each glimpse of what Pantha was enjoying but they could only imagine. They could see how she was writhing, her lips parted to let out the soft sighs that Tom was making her feel.

“She really loves it,” Diana breathed. “You think… maybe she just has really low standards?”

Carol couldn’t answer. She was looking too closely at how Tom was reaching down between Pantha’s legs. Then the excitement became unbearable for her.

“Oh shit,” she whispered, reaching down into her bikini bottoms.

She had to feel just a little of what Pantha was feeling.

Diana watched her girlfriend start to touch herself, but almost immediately she swung her gaze back to Tom and Pantha. She was glad Carol was pleasuring herself now. It gave her an excuse to masturbate too. Despite all her exploits, she cared too much about Carol to get herself off without Carol going first.

Soon they both were kneeling there, rubbing themselves, watching Pantha move her hips in the same rhythmic motion that they were grinding on their own hands. They fingered themselves, but they did it slowly. They knew that the fun was just getting started.

They watched Tom’s fingers disappear, one by one, into Pantha’s sex—saw his face at the nape of her neck, mouthing and biting the succulent flesh, leaving a trail of saliva and teeth marks down her body until he was devouring her breasts deliciously.

Carol licked her lips. Diana’s mouth watered. Neither of them were left unsatisfied by their relationship, but suddenly they felt like they had a great deal of pent-up arousal, watching Tom do to Pantha what they suddenly realized they longed to have someone do to them.

And, with the small telepathy of a long-term couple, they realized as well that they longed to watch this as well. But not happening to Pantha. No, they wanted to see each other get fucked.