Ms. Americana has a Hot Date

 

-          By Violator

 

The following is a little Valentine’s Day themed story.  I feel the holiday is more than a little under-represented, from a super-porn standpoint.

Trigger Warning:  My stories mostly feature pretty questionable consent, to say the least, but this one may hit closer to home than others for some readers.  Note well that despite his own claims to the contrary the way the villain obtains sex most definitely does count as rape from both a legal and ethical standard, and his actions during and after coitus are also beyond the pale.  Anyone having the slightest inclination to imitate his behavior in real life, in whole or in part, should seek professional psychological help immediately.

Ms. Americana and the other heroines briefly featured in this story are property of Mr. X; all other characters are my own.

Hit END for a summary.  Send any feedback or comments to violatoremail@gmx.com

 

 

 

 

It was Valentine’s Day in Delta City.  Ms. Americana smiled sultrily as she steered her car through the love-filled night.  She was on her way to a first date… and she couldn’t wait. 

The Queen of Justice was normally married to her cause and perfectly happy being a single female heroine.  Or at least, so she had always told the press, an endless line of hopeful cape-and-underpants-clad suitors, and herself.  And normally a new male hero showing up in boobs-and-bikini reach Delta City would have just made Ms. Americana roll her eyes and question his intentions. 

But instead, this time, she had fallen head over heels in love.

“I’ve met and dumped a lot of horny would-be heroes over the years,” Brenda said into her audio diary as she drove.  “You know.  The sort of so-called hero whose main super power is not keeping his hands to himself.  But Bee Man is different.  He’s cute.  He says all the right things.  And best of all, he never stares at my body.”  Slowly, behind her steering wheel, her full red lips twisted into a smug and knowing smirk.  “Even though I know he desperately wants to…” she purred aloud to herself, her smile broadening.

Spinning the wheel she turned into the packed parking lot of a high-end French restaurant, in the heart of downtown.  She parked her trademark super-car in a reserved spot waiting just for her, right next to her caped suitor’s turbo-charged Bee-Mobile.    As she entered the restaurant a sea of couples waiting beside the hostess’ stand parted as if by magic around her, all of them turning and gawking in awe as the mighty Queen of Justice strutted through their midst.  An awed waitress grabbed up a menu, and swiftly escorted her to the candle-lit table where her hot date waited.

“Ms. Americana!” the caped stud said.  Standing, he stepped forward and reached out for her hand.

“Bee Man!” she cooed.  Strutting forward, she ignored the stunned crowd staring up from tables all around them, and the sea of flashing cell phone cameras, and let him take her hand.  She simpered shyly as he kissed it, her panty-clad hips wiggling back and forth with pleasure.  Then, backing her buxom ass up, she swung it wide and slid it gingerly down to rest atop the plush leather-topped seat across from him.  Smiling, he did the same.

The hero and heroine rapidly forgot the rest of the gawking restaurant was even there, as they shared light and tinkling conversation over the escargot and wine he had already had delivered.  The staff stared in awe at the two heroes as they bustled by, nearly as openly as the other patrons.  The waitresses stared out of the corners of their pretty eyes, delicate lips gaping in envy at Ms. Americana’s date, their gaze caressing in awe over the fine physique on fully display beneath yellow and black spandex.  Their jaws dropped particularly wide, and their little tongues slipped out to moisten their lips, every time they spotted the enormous bulge in the hero’s black shorts, which lurked in the shadows beneath the table, across from Ms. Americana.  Meanwhile the waiters, despite the impeccable professionalism normally expected of such a high-end establishment, could not help but turn their heads and openly ogle the Queen of Justice’s spectacular curves and deep bra-squeezed cleavage, all of which jiggled on stunning display as she simpered and laughed within the skimpy straining curves of her tiny famous bikini. 

But the hero and heroine barely noticed their immense and riveted audience.  They had eyes only for each other, flirting and giggling over their meal as they recounted various accounts of each other’s escapades.  “I got you something,” the hero finally said, after the appetizer was mostly done.  From behind his chair he produced a bundle of red roses and handed them to her.

“Oh,” Ms. Americana cooed, taking them and sniffing with pleasure.  “You shouldn’t have!”  She batted her eyelashes at him, then, setting them down upon the table and resumed her flirtatious banter.

A little later, just before the main course arrived, he reached under his chair.  “I got you something else,” he said, and handed her a huge heart-shaped box tied with a red bow.

“Oh, my goodness!” Ms. Americana said, with pleasure.  Untying the bow and opening it, she gazed down at them hungrily but bit her full red lip in worry.  “Chocolates?” she said.  “I really shouldn’t!”

“Darling,” he said.  For the first time in a long while, he allowed his gaze to openly and appreciatively sweep down onto her gigantic, bra-straining breasts, the cavernous jiggling cleavage between them, and the shadowy expanse of flat bare athletic belly visible through what few wiggling crevices they allowed below.  In having delayed such a look for longer than fifteen seconds the masked hero was displaying more willpower than any other straight male in the entire restaurant.  “It could not possibly do you any harm.”

“Oooh, thank you!” Ms. Americana purred, her panty-clad ass wiggling upon her soft seat with pleasure.  With a dainty hand she plucked out just one tasty morsel.  Popping it into her mouth she chewed with relish, sighed with near orgasmic pleasure, and then, having swallowed, licked her fingers and favored him with a sultry and romantic smile.  “Just one,” she cooed, setting the box aside, “or it will spoil my dinner.”  Then folding her hands under her chin, she leaned in gave him a half-lidded and adoring smile.

A short time later, after they had finished their dessert, the hero reached down into his utility belt.

“I got you something else,” he said, and produced a little box.  Ms. Americana gasped, took it and, breathlessly, opened it.  Within it was a lovely golden necklace, with a heart-shaped crystal in scarlet.  Brenda Wade could have bought a consignment of millions of them without batting an eye.  But the gift still made Brenda’s heart flutter in her chest.  “Oh, my goodness!” she said, taking it out and marveling at it.  “It’s gorgeous!” she said.  Then she looked up.  “It’s only a first date.  You shouldn’t have!”

“Here, allow me,” he said, standing.

Turning her head and simpering shyly, Ms. Americana allowed the handsome hero to put the present around her neck.  Then, standing and tilting her head, despite her better judgment she smirking-ly allowed her amorous paramour to place a brief, chaste kiss upon her gorgeous masked cheek.

“Thank you very much,” the buxom bikini-clad heroine cooed, as they walked hand-in-hand out of the restaurant.  “I had a wonderful time.”

“You are very very welcome, mademoiselle,” he said back, graciously.  Then he raised an eyebrow.  “So,” he cooed.  “You have anything else planned this evening?”

‘Uh-oh’ Brenda Wade instantly thought.  A slight chill promptly shot through her hot buxom curves… and a teeny tiny oozing in her pussy.  ‘What is he after?’ she thought.   But she kept her cool.  “What do you have in mind?” she purred, smiling sultrily at him.

“Well,” Bee Man said slowly.  “Actually…I was hoping we could go to your place.”

‘Shit,’ Ms. Americana thought, lips parting in a tiny anticipatory gasp.  Her heart thudded… and a tiny bit of preparatory moisture leaked into her pussy.  ‘He’s trying to get in my pussy already.  And things were going so well!’  But outwardly, she still retained her composure.  “Oh?” she cooed.  Turning, she spread her legs wide and folded her arms beneath her titanic breasts, adopting a classically skeptical posture.  “And why do you want to go there?”

“Well,” he said, shyly, “I’d like to see how a heroine of your caliber operates.  And away from prying eyes we could get to know each other better… as hero and heroine.”

“Oh!” Ms. Americana gasped, softly.  It had not been quite the answer she was expecting.  She gave it a moment’s thought.  Then, slowly, a smile spread across her lips.  “Sure,” she said, hands dropping from her huge tits to her buxom hips.  She looked him up and down, and her smirk broadened.  “On one condition…” she purred.

A short time later the hero stood studiously still as Ms. Americana, the tips of her huge bra-encased breasts rubbing lightly against his back, carefully tied a blindfold around his head.

“This is kind of kinky…” he said, as her nipples teased him and the knot jerked tight.

“Don’t get fresh,” Ms. Americana said, warningly.  But, unseen by the blinded hero, she was wearing an amused smile that signaled she agreed.  Guiding his hand she got him into the passenger seat of her super-car and then sauntered around and settled her scantily-clad bottom behind the wheel.

“This is a nice car,” Bee Man said, as she pulled out and began driving him away through her city.  “Better than mine.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Americana purred, smirking smugly.

“The ride is fantastically smooth,” he said.  “And the upholstery is marvelous.”  Blindly, he stroked his hands across the leather seats beneath and around him.

“Thank you,” Ms. Americana purred, her smirk broadening.  “Just so we’re clear,” she said, lightly but firmly, “our interaction tonight will be strictly verbal.  Nothing physical, or sexual.  I’m not that kind of heroine.  Understood?”

“Perfectly,” he said, still stroking his hands luxuriantly across her leather seats.  Then, moments later, disaster struck.  His hand, steering blind, suddenly slid right off the seat and over onto her buxom hip.  His thumb hooked straight down through the golden hip-strap of her tiny super-panties.

“Oh!  GODDESS!!!” Ms. Americana yelped, the steering wheel suddenly jerking in her hands.

“Oh!  Shit!” Bee Man yelped.  His face flushed, he tried to pull away.  But in the process all he managed was to stretch her tiny panties out inches from her sleek flesh, before his hand was snapped right back up against her buxom fertile curve.  “I’m… I’m sorry!” he said, finally managing to extricate himself.

“Th-think nothing of it,” Ms. Americana said, quickly getting her swerving car back under control.  She blushed, and wiggled upon her seat, her huge breasts swaying ponderously in their straining bra from the residual G-forces of both motions.  “It was an accident, I’m sure” she said, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks, and kept driving. 

The hero kept his hands to himself for the remainder of the drive.  Entering one of the secret tunnels to her underground base she zoomed in, letting it close behind her.  Roaring down her buried driveway with a dramatic screech she shot out into the cavernous main chamber of her base, whirled her car to a halt beside a few more Americana-themed vehicles, and got out.

“Go ahead,” she purred, as the blind hero clambered out of his side of the car.  “Take it off and eat your heart out.”

He did so, and, head lifting upwards, gaped in awe at her cavernous fortress.  “This is amazing,” he said.  “My base is basically an abandoned garage with a wooded back entrance.”

“Billions and billions will do that,” she said, smugly, as she stood and watched him get an eyeful with her hands upon her hips.

“Whose billions?” he asked, curiously.

“Uh…” Ms. Americana stammered, breath catching in her throat.  That, along with her pussy, was yet another aspect of herself she wasn’t prepared to share with the handsome hero after just one date.  Even if it was one of the best she had ever had.  “Never you mind that,” she said, quickly.  Turning, she sauntered deeper into her fortress.  “Make yourself at home,” she said.  “Would you like something to drink?”

“Whiskey,” he said, gaping in awe at her awesome panty-clad ass as, jiggling deliciously, it slowly strutted away.  “Straight up,” he added, his dick doing likewise.  Following in her ass’s epically-jutting and epically-swaying wake, he happened upon the Criminal Logic Analyzer which sat in pride of place in the middle of her fortress.  “Is this your computer?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said, head tilting to look briefly over her shoulder.  “It holds all my files, tracks all my target criminals, and basically does half my work for me.”

“Excellent,” he said, admiring it.  Then, while her back was turned, he leaned down and stealthily slid in a tiny memory stick.  The computer’s screen flickered, briefly, and then returned to normal… save that a tiny new icon had appeared, way down in one corner.  “So…” he said, as he enjoyed the sight of Ms. Americana pouring him a drink from a well-hidden and Flag-Girl-proofed minibar, “Who is your biggest target, right now?”

“Oh!  Hmmm,” Ms. Americana said.  She only had to think briefly, as she hoisted their drinks and came sauntering back over.  “Well tonight it would certainly have to be an evil menace with the gall to call himself Mister Right.”

The CLA’s sophisticated voice control was still functioning.  At the mention of the villain’s name its central screen automatically flashed up a photo of the man in question, taken from security footage in an heiress’s mansion.  He had purple skin and was dressed in a red skin-tight suit.  Upon his chest was a black heart symbol, with an arrow through it and a crack down the middle.  He had the beautiful teen heroine known as Shield on her knees before him, her ripped costume lying to one side, her trademark shield lying uselessly to the other.  She was sucking his dick which, visible sliding into her awed and wide-spread face, appeared to be well over a foot in length with girth to match. 

Bee Man glanced at the screen in surprise. Then he turned back as Ms. Americana’s titanic eye-trapping breasts, accompanied by the rest of her, slowly wobbled back up to him.  The huge jiggling barely-contained tits were flanked to either side, gloriously, by their drinks.

“Mister Right?” he asked, curiously.  “Who’s that?”

Ms. Americana sighed.  “About five years ago,” she said, handing him his drink, “we had a mutant in town who fancied himself a Master Pickup Artist.  ‘Guru’ was his word.  He ran seminars, claiming he could teach any man to seduce any woman he pleased, and fuck her on the first date.”  Her eyes twitched, and her bottom squirmed with agitation in her teeny tiny panties.  “What he was doing wasn’t illegal, per se… but it should have been, and we heroines weren’t having it.  Not in our city!  On Valentine’s Day he had this big expensive seminar, with a lot of wealthy but frustrated male clients.  So we heroines went in… and broke it up.  Heckled him, refused to let him get a word in edgewise, pushed him around.”

Her lips twisted up.  Clearly, after all these years the memory still made her glow warmly inside.

“We humiliated him,” she summed up.  “He eventually fled his own seminar, in a huff.  We thought he was gone forever.”  She heaved a huge sigh.  “We were wrong.  Every Valentine’s Day since he suddenly surfaces again and goes on a crime spree.  He mostly targets heiresses, models, starlets – women with money, and beauty, and power.  His victims, and any heroine who gets in his way, always end up flat on their backs, with cum leaking out of their pussies… and no memory of the previous night.”

This was not, strictly speaking, true.  But under the circumstances, Ms. Americana did not want to mention the one memory all his victims did have:  that of deep, devastating, yet utterly satisfying sexual pleasure.  She squirmed, her buxom panty-clad ass wiggling nervously at the memory.

“That’s terrible,” Bee Man said, turning quickly, as if surveying her fortress, so as to conceal the sudden swelling of the boner in his little shorts.  “But…  apologize for me asking.  If they have no memory, how do you know it was him?”

Ms. Americana took a deep breath, her huge breasts shaking in their straining bra.  Stepping up to her computer, and failing to notice his tiny stick, the bikini-clad beauty pressed her gloved thumb into a depression on the side of the C.L.A. console.  Several nearby floor panels slid aside and a red velvety-soft couch, long and curved with a fluffy ottoman at its apex, incongruously rose up amidst the cold hard metal of her fortress.  She motioned him to sit and then gracefully sank down herself, her buxom bikini clad curves settling in beside him.

“Because,” she said, reaching back to smooth her lustrous dark hair, “the one thing he does leave them are his valentines.”

 “Valentines?” Bee Man asked, and took a sip of his drink.

The C.L.A. answered for her.  Upon repeatedly hearing the keyword, its speech circuits concluded she wanted to review them.  The eponymous entry in the villain’s dossier briefly flashed.  Moments later a huge, theater-size screen on the wall across from them flashed to life, glowed, and then began showing one image after another from the file, displayed before the two love birds in several times live size.  Bee Man gaped up in shock, while Ms. Americana squirmed in uncomfortably in her tiny bikini and glared, past her drink.

The first valentine was a rectangular lace-framed card dominated by a single photo.  Upon it the purple-skinned villain lounged back upon a huge stack of gold bars in a bank vault, which had been formed into a makeshift throne.  At his feet knelt Flag Girl and Alpha Girl, both caught in the act of lapping their tongues delicately up one side and down the other of an enormous purple penis.  Beneath the two sidekicks a decorative red arrow pointed up at the free space left between them, and below that, in bubbly pink script, was written the message:  “Wish You Were Here!”  It was addressed to Got Chick.

The computer let the gaping hero and the buxom glaring heroine get a good long look.  Then that valentine dissolved and another took it place.  This one showed a blonde heroine who, based on what little remained of her costume, was probably Green Specter.  She was stuck half-way through a dinosaur ribcage in a museum, the bones holding her tight by her wasp-like waist.  Mister Right stood just behind his trapped would-be foe, head craned round to make a kissy-face at the camera.  But, though it was a still image, if the blurring of his hips, the flying of the poor heroines’ blonde hair, and squirts of moisture from her pussy were any indication, he was in the midst of delivering a devastating fuck to her helpless cunt.  The scene was surrounded by hearts and, in bright pink letters shaped to look like clouds, the words “Soul Mates.”  It was addressed to Green Specter herself.

Yet another valentine flashed up.

This one showed the purple villain leading two naked, chained heroines away as part of his loot.  Each wore a bit and bridle in her teeth, and little else.  Based on their masks and boots, the one on the left was Bat Broad, the one on the right was Justice Juggs.  Both had semen pouring from their mouths and pussies as they were herded away like cattle to be his slaves.  From behind them, holding a whip and their reins, the villain was grinning right into the camera.  “Be Mine,” the card said, in bright red letters.  It was addressed to Ms. Americana.

“My God…” Bee Man said.  “He sends them to you heroines directly?”

“No.  He leaves them scattered at the scene of each of his crimes,” Ms. Americana said, bitterly.  “Addressed to all the heroines who he thinks ‘wronged’ him.  He’s getting revenge, he says… one super-pussy at a time.”  Glaring up at the huge screen, she squirmed as several more horrifying and titillating valentines slowly slid across it, each featuring the huge-dicked purple villain grinning into the camera as he got serviced by heroinely pussy or tongue. 

“Maybe he’s a teleporter,” Bee Man suggested.  “Or a shape-shifter.  Have you considered that he might be a shape-shifter?”

Ms. Americana wrinkled her nose and sighed.

“Please don’t start man-splaining to me, Bee Man,” she said.  “I’m the Queen of Justice, not some simpering floozy in a bikini.  I like you, but I don’t need to be saved by any man, not even you.”  She took a drink and sighed.  “I’m sorry,” she said, seeing his expression.  “I just don’t want to talk about him anymore.  He’s the opposite of what you are, Bee Man.  He’s rude and rough, where you are nice.  He’s a barbaric brute, where you’re sensitive and accommodating.  And, most of all, while you care about me as a person, he is only ever after one thing.”

Her buxom hips wiggled in discomfort, clad in her belt and her sleek skimpy panties.  ‘There is one way they are the same, though…’ she thought, stealing a glance down to his throbbing package.  She felt a tingle down inside, and swiftly tried to dispel it by finishing off her drink.

Bee Man frowned slightly.  Then his expression softened.  “You’re right,” he said.  He leaned a little closer, and reaching out, took her hand.  Ms. Americana gasped, her heart suddenly thumping and thoughts of Mr. Right vanishing, but let him.  “There’s no need to be sorry.  I am sorry.  I should not have brought it up.  I can see it’s made you agitated,” he said.  He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then released it.  “How about you go make us another drink?” he asked.

She breathed deep, and squirmed.  She had intended to have but one.  But he was right; she was agitated, and did not want to be on Valentine’s Day.  Besides, ending their date early would leave her with no excuse not to get her bikini-clad butt back out and start beating the pavements looking for the elusive villain, alongside her fellow heroines.

“Alright,” she said.  She stood.  Bending down, she leaned over to take his drink, which he held on the far side of his thigh.  In the process, smirking slightly, she quite deliberately put her titanic breasts into perfect position, hanging down like gigantic fruits, jostling and shaking spectacularly before his face.  He demonstrated admirable self-control, only gaping briefly down her cavernous cleavage… but could not keep the already impressive bulge in his briefs from growing considerably, and throbbing with excitement against the straining spandex.  Ms. Americana’s eyes also briefly became trapped, at the sight.  Then turning, she sauntered sultrily back to the bar to make them some more drinks… feeling a little gooey warmth of her own flowing within her bikini-clad pussy.

For the next hour the hero and heroine enjoyed an intimate conversation, free of the prying eyes and ears that had beset them at the restaurant.  Slowly Bee Man began to probe into more deep and delicate topics and, squirming in her skimpy straining bikini, Ms. Americana smiled and did her best to verbally evade him.  Soon she sauntered back over, buxom scantily-clad hips swaying dramatically, and poured them a third drink.  Then a fourth.  Feeling all warm and gooey inside, she also soon began to feel a bit tipsy.

“Those are lovely earrings,” Bee Man said, at last, after they were deep into the night.  They sat very close now, their bodies almost touching.  Reaching out, he stroked her earlobe.  The gooey feeling intensifying, Ms. Americana’s panty-clad hips squirmed against the soft couch beside his bulging briefs, and she smiled.

“They conceal my communication system,” she said.  Lifting a hand, she laid it against her throat, peeling back a few lustrous strands of black hair.  “Along with my choker, which holds my microphone.”

“Magnificent,” he said.  He stroked his finger lightly up and down her ear.  “Such ingenuity,” he whispered.  His hand caressed over lightly, onto her cheek.  “And what about your mask?” he asked.  “How does it stay on?”

Ms. Americana wiggled again, a little more violently.  But, her breath fast and shallow, her gorgeous blue eyes blinked up at him from beside his caressing hand, making no move to resist.  “Glue,” she finally admitted.  She blushed, slightly, and her buxom panty-clad hips squirmed yet again, more violently than before.  “The… the same glue strippers use,” she admitted softly, as her fingers stroked lightly around and around the lip of her empty glass.

“Fascinating,” Bee Man said.  Reaching out, he plucked it from her fingers, and then set it on a side table.  Then, reaching out once more, he stroked down her cheek again, this time making no pretense of feeling her mask.  Ms. Americana breathed deep, and trembled slightly.

“I’d like to know you better,” he suddenly said to her.

She squirmed upon her seat.  “We… we’ve already talked for hours,” she pointed out, blinking up at him.

“Not like that,” he said.  His powerful hand slowly stroked down her cheek, until he held her gently by the chin.  He pulled her chin up and slightly to him, delicately yet firmly.  Her lips opened, parted, and quivered.

“B-bee Man…” she whispered, her voice and body trembling.  “I… I told you… nothing physical.  Or sexual…”

“One kiss won’t hurt,” he said to her softly, and smiled.  “C’mon.  It’s Valentine’s Day.”  Technically he was right, though only for another few minutes. 

Without waiting for a verbal response he pulled her lips sharply towards his, while at the same time his lips dropped towards hers.  Ms. Americana took in a deep gasp of breath.  Her lips parted, just in time for his to wrap around them, and claim them.

“Mmmm…” Ms. Americana moaned.  One hand rose up to grip his broad shoulder.  She had intended to use it to push him away, but as soon as she felt his big muscles beneath her fingers her hand trembled, and then melted flat, caressing against his chest as his tongue probed hers.  Then she gasped softly as, before she had expected, he suddenly pulled back.

“Do you disagree?” he asked, his lips so close his breath husked against hers.

“No,” she said.  Wrapping her free arm around his head, she pulled him close and kissed him back, with interest.

 

For several minutes, sighing and cooing, the hero and heroine kissed like horny teenagers upon their parent’s couch.  Their lips scarcely parted for more than a few panting seconds before one or the other – but more often her than him – dove back in to eagerly get some more.  As they kissed, Bee Man slowly slid his arm around behind Ms. Americana and pulled her close to him.  Wiggling with pleasure in her tiny overloaded bikini, Ms. Americana did absolutely nothing to resist, until the tips of her huge bra-cup-straining breasts were bouncing and caressing thrillingly against his chest.

Then, without warning, he suddenly broke the kiss and dove lower.  Arching her back, Ms. Americana mewled and gasped, her lips quivering with pleasure, as he began to nibble at the side and nape of her neck.  She wiggled and gasped, eagerly, as he went for her throat, kissing and sucking gently at her tender flesh.

“Y-you’re not a vampire, are you?” she asked, teasingly, as he nibbled at her neck.

“No,” he said.  Reaching across her temptingly wiggling panties, he put a hand upon her thigh to hold her closer.  Ms. Americana moaned softly at the contact, and squirmed closer.  “Unless you want me to be baby,” he purred, and swooped back in, sucking hard enough at the flesh of her neck to leave little pink welts.

Ms. Americana licked her lips, and trembled.  In her line of work, the vampire question had not seemed entirely theoretical a moment after she’d said it.  Combined with his aggression, it caused a brief feeling of worry to blossom inside her achingly horny, hourglass-curvy body.

“You… you won’t go too far, will you Bee Man?” she asked, her voice and her lips quivering high in the air as he nibbled aggressively at her neck and throat.  “I… I like this… but I have my dignity to preserve, as a super-heroine…”

“Of course, baby,” Bee Man instantly reassured her.  “Now lay back and let me take care of everything.”

So saying, he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into the couch.  Ms. Americana gasped.  But, blinking up at him in awe, she let him.  In the process of her butt sinking further into the couch her thighs, which had been instinctively squeezed tight together around her vulnerable panty-clad pussy during the storm of his initial assault, lifted and spread slightly, opening up a space in front of her crotch.  As he leaned in to follow, Bee Man put his hand down into the space.  Ms. Americana’s breath briefly hissed in, instinctively.  But rather than go for anything he shouldn’t, the hero merely seized the edge of the couch, between her thighs, and used to prop himself up for support as he swooped back down towards her waiting, quivering lips.  Parting her luscious mouth with a sigh, Americana eagerly received his kiss and soon, head rolling and sighing with pleasure, thought nothing more about it.

Then, releasing her lips, he leaned around beside her, and went for her ear.  Ms. Americana rolled her head and giggled with pleasure as his tongue and lips batted at her earlobe.  Then her mouth suddenly fell open and quivered, letting out a loud gasp.  For, as he had leaned in even closer his arm propped upon the couch, between her legs, had tilted forward… and collided straight up against her tender, panty-sheathed pussy.

“Oh!” Ms. Americana gasped, her eyes going wide.  “B-Bee Man!” she moaned.

Still nibbling eagerly at her ear, Bee Man appeared completely oblivious.  “What?” he asked.  He gave her ear another few playful nips, then rose up and looked into her face.

Ms. Americana blinked back. She squirmed.  His arm remained pressed to her pussy, but if he was aware of it there was not the slightest sign upon his handsome, square-jawed face.  And the contact there, no matter how innocent, was already causing a pleasurable warmth to spread through her nether regions.  ‘He… he doesn’t even realize…’ she thought, her beautiful blue eyes flickering searchingly up and down his face.  “If I tell him its’ making me horny, I’ll look like a slut…’

“Nothing,” she said, and letting the innocent and arousing forearm be, she seized him by the collar of his spandex uniform, pulled him close, and kissed him.

But Bee Man’s forearm was anything but innocent.  It was the result of a careful sequence plotted out, like a chess gambit, many moves in advance.  And as they continued to kiss, his arm began to grind, ever so slightly at first, against her pussy.  He began so slow and so soft that his miniscule motions against her tender mound were utterly undetectable to her beneath the natural give and take of their entwined bodies.  But with each press of his lips to her gasping throat, each nibble of his teeth against her ear, and each twirl of their interlocked tongues together, his motion against her panty-sheathed pussy grew slightly harder, slightly faster, slightly longer.  Soon his forearm was sliding up and down her delicate mound, through her painted-on panties, like the box of a virtuoso across the strings of a sexual Stradivarius.  But beneath his ‘innocent’ strokes, having already decided she had no cause for objection, Ms. Americana did nothing but whimper slightly and spread her legs wider, opening up for his ‘unintentionally’ provided pleasure.  In minutes her pussy was so wet her creamy juices oozed straight through her panties, and began to moisten his gently sliding skin.

Feeling her moisture, Bee Man smirked into their kiss.  Slowly he slid his arm up until the heel of his hand was pressed to her now-sopping cunt, and began to grind that into her instead.  Ms. Americana whimpered, her tongue trembling against his… and, without even realizing it, spread her mighty legs even wider, as if silently begging for more.  In no time her already wet pussy became positively drenched, until tendrils of her glistening juices were oozing out from around her skimpy sopping panty crotch to drool down the epic curvature of her ass.

Smirking, still swapping spit with his eagerly moaning but otherwise unsuspecting paramour, Bee Man threw caution to the wind.  Slowly, he slid his hand up, and briefly cupped her whole precious warm mound in the palm of his hand.  Then he slid his hand up even further and began using his fingers directly to stroke, pluck, and tease at the sensitive outer lips of her vulva, every last mystery of which was laid absolutely bare to him through the painted-on silk of her drenched silken panties.

Ms. Americana promptly moaned and whimpered with pleasure.  Her buxom body shuddering, she pulled him close and began kissing him with adoring and eager enthusiasm.  Every stroke and caress he delivered to her sopping pussy was instantly matched by her trembling tongue, stroking and swirling worshipfully against his.  Occasionally, at some particularly good stroke of his finger across her drenched vulva, her lips pulled back and let out a shuddering mewl of pleasure.  “Oh… oh Bee Man…” she whispered, her voluptuous body squirming helplessly under his light and teasing caress.  Then each time, still seemingly oblivious to how thoroughly and expertly she was being escalated, the sopping-pussied heroine pulled her paramour back in and resumed worshipfully kissing him once more.

But finally, after several minutes of heating her up, he went too far.  Having stroked all four of his fingers lightly up the outer surface of her vagina, he could not resist.  Lifting all but one – the middle, naturally – off her, he sent it down and gave her one hard mocking stroke, directly up the center of her sopping eager slit, pressing in so hard his fingertip nearly vanished in between her thick panty-painted labial lips.

Instantly, still locked in their kiss, Ms. Americana’s eyes went wide, as she realized something was being done to her that could not be natural.  With a loud moan, she broke from the kiss and pulled her head back.  Turning downward, she gaped down in disbelief through the deep crevice between her enormous jostling tits at the sight of Bee Man’s finger stroking her cunt.  Her eyes, already wide, spread further, and her jaw dropped.

For a moment Ms. Americana could only gape, in disbelief, at what was happening to her.  Every inch of her panties, and the insides of her supple wide-spread thighs, were coated with her shimmering moisture.  She watched, breathing hard but unable to do anything else, as her lover’s finger made another hard insolent stroke up and down her slit.  At the top, knowing exactly where to go, he suddenly pressed down through her panties and rubbed her clitoris.  Her gorgeous masked head sinking backwards, Ms. Americana let out a loud and involuntary gasp of pleasure, her buxom body shuddering helplessly under his intrusive caress.

“Oh!  Oh… Bee Man!” Ms. Americana moaned, loudly.  Her head whipped around, to look wild-eyed up into his.

Instantly, his fingers retracted and the stroking of her pussy stopped.

“What?” her handsome paramour asked, his voice deep and rumbling.  From the look upon his square-jawed face, he appeared as oblivious to his own behavior as a saint.

Ms. Americana licked her lips, and quivered upon her back before him.  The very instant his fingers left, her pussy started to ache for their return.  Her mighty thighs swung up and closed together around her pussy… and she gasped.  Their supple flesh, squeezed together, was sopping wet.

Putting a finger to her lips she squirmed, and breathed deep.  Her pretty head, aswirl with heat and hormones, had difficulty concentrating on one thought.  With her pussy aching, she struggled to decide between telling him off like the righteous and virtuous heroine she was… and begging him for more.  At last, she compromised.

“N-nothing…” she whispered, her buxom hips wiggling back and forth as tingles exploded within them.

Bee Man smiled.  Then he glanced down at her breasts, and back at her face.

“I have a confession,” he said, blushing slightly.  “I… I want to suckle on your breasts.  Will you straddle me, and take off your bra?”

Ms. Americana breathed deep.  Almost instantly, the new request drove all thoughts of the fingering of her pussy out of her mind.  With all the hostile attention they got, Ms. Americana did not have positive associations with moves towards her famously huge hooters.  Yet after all the attention her pussy had just enjoyed, the tips of her breasts tingled eagerly for their own share.  And he had asked so bashfully, and openly, the mighty heroine could not help but be flattered.

‘What the hell…’ she thought, a slight smirk spreading across her lips.  ‘They’ve been milked enough times before… might as well get some tender, gentle treatment for once.’

“Sure,” she said, at last.

Putting a hand up she laid it on his muscular chest, and suddenly pushed him over and pressed him down onto his back.  Rising up like a buxom goddess, she spread her mighty thighs wide and straddled the now recumbent hero, her smirk broadening slightly as she trapped him between them.  Lifting up her hands she ran them through her hair, pulling her mussed sable curls back into a perfect spill around her shoulders as she gasped down at him.  Then, dropping her hands down, she caressed them over her huge bra-straining jugs and then slowly slid her fingers up into the deep jiggling crevice between them.

Hands between her breasts, fingering her bra catch, Ms. Americana briefly froze.  She gazed down into her lover’s face, tingling with anticipation.  He looked back up at her, his breath shallow as well.  His eyes briefly dropped down to her giant breasts, openly ogling and enjoying them, then, with tasteful speed, lifted back up to her face.

Ms. Americana breathed deep.  Then, slowly, a smile spread across her full red lips.

“Enjoy,” she cooed.

Then, for the first time in longer than she could remember, Ms. Americana voluntarily opened up her bra, and pulled it open before a man.  Her gargantuan yet perfectly shapely jugs promptly spilled forth to bounce, sway, and jostle majestically before his gaze.  Breathing hard, Ms. Americana peeled the bra off over her shoulders, and laid it to one side upon the couch.

Bee Man stared, in awe.  Ms. Americana’s tremendous breasts were quite easily the greatest natural wonders he had ever seen.  “Magnificent,” he breathed.  Then, lifting up his head, he wrapped his lips around one of her large, tender nipples, and began delicately to suck.

Ms. Americana moaned.  She had felt similar sensations at the hands of pregger plants, milking machines, and even a few lucky villains… but never so tenderly, nor so thrillingly.  Instantly, the erotic associations caused a flood of lustful desire to explode up through her broad buxom hips to match even that that had been created by the fingering of her pussy.

Switching his head back and forth between each huge breast in turn, Bee Man eagerly swirled around and around their delicate nipples with his tongue.  Ms. Americana squirmed and whimpered with pleasure.  Soon both of her large nipples were painfully swollen, sticking out nearly an inch from her gargantuan jiggling jugs, as if silently begging for anything more his smirking lips and swirling tongue wanted to do to them.

Lips open and quivering, Ms. Americana’s hands trembled upon her cheeks as she gaped down at her slurping lover in awe.  Then, with a loud moan, her head sank back until all he could see was her chin.  She could no longer help herself.  With a  second loud moan she shoved her torso forward, pushing her huge tits forward and even further into her date’s power.  Bee Man grinned gleefully as he suddenly found himself buried in a sea of silky breastfat.  A big glistening nipple jiggling delicately to either side of his ears, he shook his head back and forth in Ms. Americana’s silky shimmying wonderland, and laughed, enjoying himself capitally.

Meanwhile, as he motor-boated himself happily between Ms. Americana’s gargantuan tits, Bee Man’s hands slid sneakily up her thighs, and began to caress her hips.  Sliding his head back out her huge curvature to once more suckle at her tips, he pulled the hips of her skimpy panties away from her buxom wiggling flesh a few times, letting them snap back playfully into place.  Ms. Americana moaned as the implied threat to her panties, and through them her pussy, briefly caused a pit of dread to form her stomach.  But the very same threat also caused yet another explosion of creamy aching lusts up and down her imperiled cavity and, her voluptuous hips wiggling, the buxom heroine pressed her titanic tits even further into her paramour’s slurping mouth and otherwise made no other objection.

Grinning, Bee Man switched his mouth from one gigantic jug to the other.  As he did so, his hands went even further.  Leaving her buxom beleaguered hips behind, he slid them back onto her epically rounded ass, and began to cup and squeeze its vast yet heart-stoppingly taut and rounded curvature.  His fingers stroked up and down her awesome buns, and then dug deep into her muscular projecting backside.

“Oh… Goddess!” Ms. Americana moaned.  Like her breasts, Ms. Americana’s ass was often the subject of much villainous punishment, and as such being touched there was not normally a source of positive associations for her.  And yet, for that exact reason, as his voracious hands groped and squeezed their way insolently up and down her pricelessly curvy bottom yet another explosion of aching and drooling lust promptly erupted through her cunt.  Biting a finger between her lips, Ms. Americana turned her gorgeous head down and gaped down at Bee Man’s face, as her ass continued to get ruthlessly and vigorously felt up.

“Bee Man…” she whispered.  Her ass wiggled and squirmed, but otherwise made not move to defend itself from his squeezes and gropes.  “Please…” she begged, softly.  “Be gentle with me!”

Bee Man grinned.  Detaching one hand from her curves he swung it back and held it poised before her rotund, wiggling ass.  “I am being gentle,” he told her.  Then, with great force, he swung his hand back up and slammed it, hard, into her curvy ass, square on the seat of her skimpy straining panties.  Ms. Americana yelped, her jaw dropping in shock, as she got spanked.  But she made no other move to respond, even as his hand gave her wiggling, curvy ass a deep, painful, and corrective squeeze.

“Now shut up and enjoy,” Bee Man said.  And, without another word, his lips dove back up to her helpless tit and began to suck it, while his hands resumed their deep and intrusive explorations of her rotund wiggling backside.

Ms. Americana gasped, deeply, staring down at him in shock.  And yet, the feeling of being so mistreated and chastised somehow suddenly made her pussy ache more than it ever had before.  The slurping of his tongue around and around her helpless erect nipple did not help.  She moaned deeply, her buxom body trembling upon his lap like a centerpiece upon a table, helpless to resist.  Her eyes rolled and flickered within her head.  Then, with a deep whimper, her gorgeous head sank backwards once again.  “Alright…” she whispered and, voluptuous curves quivering, she made no objection as her date continued to enjoy her body. 

For nearly another minute, the heroine moaned and squirmed as the hero slurped her tits and groped her ass.  Bee Man grinned.  Suddenly, without warning, he yanked up the back of Ms. Americana’s skimpy thong panties, slipped one hand in underneath them, and began to grope and squeeze her naked round ass directly, without even that token obstruction to stop him.  Ms. Americana quivered and gasped… but, pussy leaking with aching desire, ultimately did nothing whatsoever to stop him.

But Bee Man was nowhere near done with her.  Suddenly, even as he smirked into her huge helpless breast, he made his next move.  His hand, stroking humiliatingly under her little panties, gave the bottom curves of her ass one last mocking squeeze… and then suddenly dove downwards, and up between her thighs.  Eyes closed and gorgeous face quivering towards the ceiling, Ms. Americana’s eyelids suddenly burst open and she gasped, deeply.  But by then it was too late… Bee Man’s fingers had already slid up directly onto her naked, dripping pussy.

“Oh… oh Goddess!” she squealed, in shock… even as his fingers made a swift, gloating stroke back and forth over her tender outer surface.  Moments later, before she could do anything else to resist, he’d peeled her open and sent two fingers, his middle and pointer, plunging right up in.  His twin thick digits sank deep into her tight, gooey, squeezing channel, and began to massage vigorously against the inside of her cunt.

“Oh!  B-BEE MAN!” Ms. Americana screamed, her sacred and invaded body trembling in shock.  Her gorgeous head streaked down, and gaped at him in disbelief.

“What?” he asked.  He gave her huge and helpless left breast one last smug, slurping stroke with his tongue, then looked up into her face.  “What is it?”

“Y-you’re…” Ms. Americana gasped.  Her head tilted and trembled, her lips quivering.  The depredations inside her slit were so brutal, and sending such surges of sexual and emotional excitement shooting up and down inside her, she could barely manage to speak straight.  “Y-y’oure in… in… in my PUSSY!!!” she finally managed to moan, her head twisting from side to side and her body trembling as she said it.

Bee Man slid his fingers out of her, and caressed them swirling circles along the surface of her pussy.  “No, I’m not, he said.  He was lying, slightly.  His index finger, knowing exactly where to go, proved ever so slightly back in between her folds to rub her clitoris.

“Oh… oh GODDESS!!!” Ms. Americana moaned.  Her head thrashed back and forth, rolling upon her shoulders.  Yet, now that he was out, she could not quite bring herself to demand his full removal from her panties.  In fact, it was all she could do not beg him to put it back in.  “What… what do you want?” she moaned, as her buxom fertile hips rolled helplessly atop his stroking digits.

“Why… just to make you happy, baby,” he purred.  And, as soon as he said it, he began to slide a single finger – his middle – back up inside her.  His second insertion was much slower, and more deliberate than the first.  Ms. Americana looked him in the eye as he did it.  But, though her luscious lips hung open and trembling, she could not bring herself to say one word, nor to lift one finger, to make him stop.

“Oh… Great… Great Justice…” she gasped softly, once he was back inside, rubbing and pumping away.  Every inch of her buxom body quivered helplessly, like a toy, before him, as he stroked and slid insolently within the gooey and forbidden interiors of her tight sacred cunt.  He slid a second one in.  Her flesh trembled, and her voice caught and shuddered.  “What… what do you mean?” she asked.  “Are… are you trying… to get me into bed?!” she asked, as her invaded pussy vomited tendrils of oozing fluids down his pumping fingers.

“Why I don’t want anything, honey,” he lied, smiling slyly up at her past her heaving bouncing tits.  “But,” he admitted, as he stroked persuasively against the front wall of her pussy, “I wouldn’t mind if you returned the favor…”

“Returned the favor?” Ms. Americana gasped, raising a hand to her trembling lips.  Her buxom hips squirmed, under his latest deep assault.  “What… what do you mean?” she asked, every inch of her body tingling.

“Exactly what I said,” he said, looking up into her eyes.  His fingers stroked, slowly, up and down inside her gooey interior.

Ms. Americana stared back for several seconds, body trembling, lips gasping, her pretty masked head filled with lust and confusion.  Then, with a deep gasp, she got it.  A fresh tingle shot up her body, briefly matching the intense warmth and waves of persuasion flowing out of her invaded cunt.  She slid a finger in between her luscious quivering lips and bit it and, despite everything that was happening to her squirming shapely body, her eyes suddenly grew distant – her mind, all of a sudden, able to think of nothing but her imagined ideas of his huge cock.  Ghost-like phallic impressions that had lain at the back of her demurely smiling head and in the depths of her fertile squirming hips every second of the entire evening, and only now suddenly leaped out like a storm to utterly fill her beleaguered brain.

She gasped, deeply – and, in an instant, had made her decision.

“Okay,” she said, softly.  She withdrew her fingers back into her palm and, pumping and shuddering helplessly atop his stroking stimulating fingers, tried not to sound too eager.  She failed.  “I’ll stroke it,” she said.

“Good,” Bee Man purred.  Withdrawing his fingers from her cunt, he used his moistly glistening hand to gesture her towards one side of the couch.  Hobbling eagerly upon her knees, gasping with desire, Ms. Americana crawled to where he directed, knelt down, and turned, jiggling, to face him.  Crouching down, she put her hand upon the front of his briefs and stroked up and down his massive bulge, giving it a few testing squeezes through them.

“G-goddess…” she whispered, eyes blinking in awe, as she felt his huge beast twitch and stir beneath her fingers.  Meanwhile, desiring to waste no time, his hand had slipped right back around her curvy kneeling bottom and, pausing only to rudely and openly jerk her panties aside, resumed first stroking and then fingering her drooling pussy.  Trembling and letting out a soft gasp at the rude treatment, she nevertheless did absolutely nothing to resist as her horny drooling pussy was once more besieged by his surging invading fingers.

“Take it out,” he told her.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.  Licking her lips and squirming hesitantly, she slipped a finger down into the waist of his straining briefs, and then slowly hoisted them down.

“Oh... my GOD!” she promptly squealed.  Her gorgeous head jerked to one side, narrowly being hit in the face by the huge cock that burst from his shorts.  Lips hanging open, she gaped up and down the towering behemoth extending out of his shorts in awe.  “Oh… Goddess…” she whispered, her eyes and her brain filled with his cock.  “You’re… HUGE!”

“Heh,” he purred.  “What’s the matter, baby?” he asked.  “Am I too much for you to handle?”

“No!” Ms. Americana immediately insisted, automatically.  She licked her lips.  “Just…I’ve never seen one so big…” she admitted.  This was not strictly speaking true, but presumably she did not want to append the qualifier ‘on a human’ to the end of her sentence.

Reaching out, she wrapped her right hand delicately around his thick shift and began pumping up and down his immense length.  Her free hand she dropped down to gently cup and caress what proved to be his equally gargantuan, grapefruit-sized balls.  She gasped in awe, all over again, as she felt their heavy seed-swollen wait sinking heavily onto her slender stroking fingers.

Though she pumped her hand vigorously up and down his penis, gasping, she soon found him too dry.  Detaching her hand from his balls she reached up between her legs.  His fingers helpfully made way just before her arrival.  She shuddered, squirming, as, her own fingers sinking deep, she briefly did to herself what he had been doing for her for some time.  Her fingers came back out, laden with her own oozing juices, and she slathered them up and down his appreciatively twitching cock.  Meanwhile, even as she was smearing her own creamy lubricant around his immense cock-head, his own fingers dove right back up inside her and promptly got back to work.

With her own juices smeared onto him, her hand slid more easily up and down his immense shaft but, gasping with effort, she clearly was still not satisfied.

“Go ahead,” he purred down to her.  “Use your tongue.”

Ms. Americana breathed deep.  A blush spread across her cheeks, as she gaped at his huge penis in awe.  She had never done that for a man – at least, not voluntarily.  Then, she bowed her head.  “Alright,” she said, putting up remarkably little resistance as her buxom hindquarters squirmed continuously in little circles under his once more vigorously pumping fingers.

Extending her tongue, Ms. Americana began to lap up and down the hero’s penis, getting him wet.  Head sinking back, Bee Man groaned with pleasure as her dexterous glistening organ licked delightfully up and down him again and again and again.  One finger still plucking and playing with her pussy, he put the other on her head.  “C’mon,” he purred.  “Deeper.”

Ms. Americana moaned softly, and her blush deepened.  But, consumed with lust for his cock, she could not resist.  With a soft and compliant sigh, she bowed her gorgeous head and, wrapping her lips around the midpoint of his shaft, delivered a lingering slurping kiss to the side of his gigantic cock.  “Oh… yeah…”  Bee Man sighed, his head sinking backwards.  He relaxed his head.  Ms. Americana withdrew her head, licking her lips and staring at his cock in shock.  Then, with a soft sigh, her beautiful eyes fluttered closed behind her mask and she bowed her gorgeous head and gave his huge penis another kiss.  Then another, and another.

Gasping and sighing with pleasure, Bee Man watched as Ms. Americana laid a series of slow, slurping kisses up and down his cock.  Her lips spread wide, quivered tight around him in awe, and then withdrew with an audible ‘slorp!’ each time.  Slowly, sighing in awe, the mighty heroine kissed her way up the veiny underside of his cock, lips moving a fraction of an inch each time, from his base all the way to his tip.  Halfway through her eyes looked up into his.  Her lips trembled… and then slowly completed their latest kiss, then the next and the next, as, her blush deepening, her eyes fluttered down and once more focused their attention on his cock.

Finally, her lips trembling, she reached his very tip, eighteen inches above his pubes.  Her lips quivered in awe as they wrapped around his tip, and delivered yet another slow, worshipful kiss.  Her eyes blinked wide in awe as they stared down the immense length of his cock, appearing to her as if her lips were perched atop an immense skyscraper.  Then, with a soft sigh, she tried to withdraw… and moaned loudly in shock, her head and body trembling, as she found that she could not.

“Now, now,” Bee Man purred, holding her tight by the back of her lovely head.  “Don’t complain.  You know you want to.”  Then, without further ado, he thrust his hips upward, forcing his immense cock up into Ms. Americana’s helpless mouth.

Ms. Americana moaned, and quivered in shock, but could do nothing to resist as her lips were forced wider and wider around his immense throbbing invader.  His gargantuan cockhead shoved its way deeper and deeper inside her, and her eyes spread wide in shock as she realized he was not going to stop.  Finally, after he’d sunk her halfway down his cock he sighed with pleasure and allowed her to stop.  His head rolled upon his shoulders, as he reveled in the feeling of Ms. Americana’s mouth and throat slurping helplessly around the first nine inches of his dick.  Then, he let her go.  Moaning, her lips trembling as his huge beast slowly slid back out of them, Ms. Americana lifted her head back up until her lips popped off his tip.  Then she hovered there, her gorgeous head gasping and panting for breath, as her eyes gaped down the immense beast that had just been inside her in shock.

Slipping his fingers briefly out of her cunt, Bee Man raised his shimmering pimp hand high.  “Suck,” he told her.  Then he brought it down, hard, on her helpless rounded ass.  Ms. Americana squeaked, her shapely spanked body shuddering.  But her eyes never left his gigantic penis.

“Y… yes, sir…” she whispered.  Then, spreading her lips as wide as she could, her eyes blinking in shock, she wrapped her lips around her date’s huge penis and began, worshipfully, to suck it.

“Ah… yeah…” Bee Man purred, giving her stinging round ass a hard and luxuriant squeeze.  “That’s the shit.  That’s the shit…”  Then he slipped his fingers down back under the curvature of her taut yet enormous ass, and once more began playing with her cunt.

Bee Man worked fast.  Getting Ms. Americana from first kiss to first suck had taken him just barely over twenty minutes.  But now, things slowed down.  Sighing in awe, eyes blinking wide in shock, Ms. Americana dutifully sucked his immense dick… and sucked, and sucked, and sucked.  At first she could barely take him, her lips trembling in awe as they spread wide around his invading shaft, her eyes blinking in forlorn disbelief at how much of his girth she was trying to take.  Gradually, she got better.  Her luscious trembling head began to sink deeper and deeper onto his cock.  Her throat bulged, as his huge shaft invaded it more and more.  Bee Man’s head shook back and forth, a huge grin affixed to his lips, and sighed with heavenly pleasure as she sucked, and sucked, and sucked.

As she sucked his hands continued to play with her pussy.  But where before he had gone all out now he teased and toyed with her helpless cunt.  He alternated between pumping hard and deep, whenever the slurps and swirls of her worshipful tongue around his cock started to slacken, and backed off, plucking lightly and teasingly at her defenseless folds, whenever she seemed too close to an intense climax.  Obsessed with the huge cock shuttling in and out of her throat, Ms. Americana didn’t even realize she was being played.  All she knew was she was getting more and more frustrated, more and more desperate for release, as she sucked, and sucked, and sucked upon his cock.

Every once in a while, overwhelmed by the ache in her jaw from trying to take his immensely thick penis, she slurped back up off him and took a slight break lapping at him with her tongue, or laying on a few more slurping kisses.  Each time, he sighed and enjoyed, watching her do it, and then swung his pimp hand back and gave her big bottom another swat.

Finally, with a deep moan, Ms. Americana sent her gorgeous gurgling head diving down his immense length, and went for it.  She choked, her face contorting with effort and her throat gurgling.  But, with immense effort, she managed to get her lips all the way down to his pubes.

“Oh… FUCK, yes!” Bee Man hissed, his huge dick throbbing with intense pleasure, swaddled from base to tip in the most heavenly throat in existence.  And, by way of congratulations, he swung his pimp hand back and gave her another pounding swat on her big round wiggling bottom.

Throat choking on his cock, Ms. Americana let out a deep moan, a blush spreading across her engorged cheeks.  Slowly, she slurped her way up and up his jaw-breaking cock, until at last her lips popped off the huge flared tip of his cock.  Turning her head up, she looked into his eyes.  He grinned, and gave her punished ass a squeeze.  She whimpered and squirmed.  Bowing her head, she pressed a kiss to his cock.  Then a second, and then a third.  Then she lifted her head back up, to look him in the eyes once more.

Her eyes were glazed, her gaze barely focused.  Her whole body trembled with the depth and intensity of the lusts that now consumed every inch of her luscious flesh. 

“Please,” she finally whispered.  Her eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his cock.  Dropping her lips, she gave it another plaintive kiss.  “Please… fuck me.”

He grinned back down at her… his fingers sinking back into pump a little deeper, to make sure he didn’t lose the moment. “You sure, babe?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ms. Americana promptly whispered, her voice hushed and trembling with her needs.  Bowing her head, she wrapped her lips around his thrillingly and punishingly immense cock and gave  it another few worshipful sucks, then slurped her lips back off it.  “I… I love you…” she admitted, and gave him a wet, sloppy kiss, just beneath his glans.  “I… I want your penis…” she said, and gave it another trio of slurping, utterly adoring smooches of her luscious cock-sucking lips.  “I want it inside me,” she said, “more… more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

She gave his cock another few worshipful slurps with her mouth, then turned her gorgeous face up and looked once more into his face.

He grinned back down at her, his huge glistening cock throbbing with its eagerness to defile.

“That’s good, bitch,” he said.  “So stand up, and pull down your panties.”

Ms. Americana breathed deep.  She licked her lips, staring into his face.  Then, with a soft gasp, she rose up and stood, in all her buxom half-naked glory before him.  Slowly, gloved fingers trembling, her hands dropped down her flat sleek belly, and her went to her tiny panties.  They caressed over them, nervously.  Then her thumbs slowly slid up and hooked through their skimpy golden hip-straps.  Her hands trembled.  Then, slowly, she drew the tiny panties down onto her thighs.  Their swooping front pulled down, and peeled out from between her legs, exposing her pussy.

Suddenly, she gasped as she remembered something.  Her hands froze, with her panties wrapped tightly around her upper thighs.  Wiggling before him, her mighty thighs bound by her own bottoms, she whipped her head first one way and then the other, but her beautiful face didn’t seem to see what it was looking for.  Then, at last, it turned back down and looked at him.

“Do… do you have a condom?” she asked.

He shook his head no.  “Wasn’t planning on needing one,” he lied.

Ms. Americana breathed deep, and blushed.  Her face looked stricken.

“Come on,” he cooed.  Reaching up, he slid a finger straight into her pussy from the front.  Ms. Americana gasped deeply… and let him.  In moments she wiggled and moaned as his finger, hooked around, began to rub along the front wall of her cunt with persuasive, ‘come-hither’ motions.  Meanwhile the adjacent finger slipped up into her juicy folds and began massaging her clitoris.  “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he pointed out.

Ms. Americana breathed deep.  Then with a soft sigh, she visibly gave in.  “Oh… oh well,” she said.  “One time won’t hurt.”  Then, bending low before him she pulled her panties down all the way to her ankles, and slipped one boot through them.  Lifting her panties up on one ankle behind her, she plucked them off her foot, and then let them drop onto the couch beside him. 

“Good girl,” he said.  He gestured towards the couch, beside him.  “Now, assume the position.”

Her breath coming fast and shallow, her body singing with anticipation, Ms. Americana obeyed.  With a soft sigh she clambered up onto the couch.  Blinking up at him over her shoulder, she placed her belly upon the back of the couch and knelt atop it, her big round bottom wiggling back and forth before him, waiting and ready.

“Excellent,” he said.  The couch creaked as he knelt behind her in turn, and put his hands on her buxom hips.  Ms. Americana gasped… and slowly spread her thighs wider, giving him easier access to her dripping pussy.  He chuckled.  Then, pushing his hips forward, he pressed the tip of his immense instrument up against her leaking quivering pussy.

“You want this, babe?” he said, confirming consent carefully.  To pass the time until she decided, he rubbed the massive tip of his penis persuasively up and down the drooling outer lips of her cunt.

Ms. Americana breathed deep.  She squirmed, helplessly, under his phallic caresses, and gasped deeply with anticipation.  “Yes,” she finally whispered, blinking up at him over her shoulder in worried awe.

 “Then get ready,” he purred.  Sliding his hands up, he took a firm grip upon her buxom hips.  “You’re about to feel my sting!”  With a great, triumphant laugh, he slammed his hips forward.

“Oh… GAWWDDD!!!” Ms. Americana squealed, her head shooting backwards and her hair flying, as his gargantuan penis slammed her pussy lips wide and plowed deep up inside her cunt, with all the gentle tenderness of a howitzer going off.  “Unh!” she moaned, shuddering in awe, as his gargantuan length slammed home, all the way inside her.  She licked her lips and trembled, blinking in awe, as his huge beast sloooowly pulled out, her pussy quivering and slurping in awe as it slowly disgorged its massive conqueror. Then, when only his tip was still inside her, he pounded brutally back inside her again.  And again.  And again.

“Oh… Great JUSTIIIICE!!!” Ms. Americana squealed, as she got the fucking of her life.

“Shit.. YES!” Bee Man howled, thrusting away with wild abandon into her pussy.  She clung tight all around him, wet as the ocean and warm as the womb, as he ravaged her outmatched snatch deep.

“Oh, Goddess!  OH, GODDESS!!!” Ms. Americana screamed.  Almost instantly, she came.  Her ravaged pussy trembled in awe, as it spurted out streamers of shining moisture around his pounding cock.

“Ha ha ha!” Bee Man laughed.  He spanked her on her big fertile ass, as he made her cum.  “What a slut!”

Ms. Americana gasped in shock.  She couldn’t imagine her boyfriend had said something like that.  Yet, as his huge cock pounded her pussy, it somehow was simultaneously the most erotic thing she had ever heard.  “Yes!” she moaned, gorgeous head shooting back and eyes rolling behind her mask.  “I’m… I’m a slut!  Oh, God, I’m a huge slut!  Oh, God!  Fuck me!  FUCK ME!”

Then, with a second loud squeal, less than a minute after the first, she came again.  She trembled and moaned in awe, shuddering helplessly on his deep invasive thrusts.

“Ha ha ha ha!” he cackled, stroking her buxom fertile hips with relish.  “God, you’re a whore!”

He fucked her for another few minutes up against the couch, making her orgasm three more times.  Then he suddenly pulled out, seized her by her hair, and cruelly yanked her buxom moaning body to its shaky feet.  Stumbling, barely able to walk after just the brief fucking she’d gotten from his huge cock, Ms. Americana could do nothing but gape up at her date in awe as, with swats to her ass, he herded over to her computer and bent her over on it.  Then, putting his penis back up against her pussy and, this time without bothering to spend one moment checking her consent, slammed brutally back up into her cunt.

“Grah!” he roared, like a sweaty beast, as his huge cock thundered back up inside her tight drooling slit.  He began pounding her mercilessly against it.  “I’m fucking you up against your own computer, bitch!” he roared, slamming her moaning orgasmically-shuddering head down against the console.  “How does it feel to get fucked against your own computer, bitch?!”

“It… it feels good!” Ms. Americana moaned.  Her head crushed against one of the screens by his hand, huge breasts wobbling back and forth across the keys, her eyes rolled within her head as his thrusts slammed her brutally against it.  “Fuck me against my computer!” she begged.  “Fuck me!  Fuck MEEEEEE!!!!” she squealed, cumming yet again, within ten thrusts of him ramming back up inside her.

“How do you afford this shit, slut?” he growled furiously, pounding her deep.  “How do you afford it?!  I’m so jealous!”

“Oh!  Oh, Goddess!” Ms. Americana moaned, shaking and shuddering helplessly against her computer.  In moments, she could not resist.  “I… I’m Brenda Wade!” she moaned, voice rising and falling in ecstasy as he pounded her cunt.  “I’m Brenda WAAADE!” she squealed, as his huge dick slammed deep, her body shaking in near continuous climax under his furious fuck.

“No shit?” he said, eyebrows going up.  Then he threw his head back and laughed, even as he sent another lazy brutal thrust slamming up into her cunt.  “Ha!  Awesome!  Then you can pay for all my stuff, too!”

Brenda whimpered and shuddered as his huge cock slammed deep.  Warning signs exploded in her head… and one brutal thrust of his gigantic cock wiped them out of her brain in an instant.  “Yes!” she moaned, trembling as he fucked her.  “Yes!  I… I CAN!”

“Give me access, bitch!” he said.  Lifting her up, he used undulating strokes of his hips to slip and slide his cock in short milking strokes within her drooling cunt… but he stayed deep, his belly repeatedly pressing against her epic ass.  “Give me access to your money!” he said.  “Then I can buy super stuff too!”

Brenda whimpered, and shuddered.  But, with each thrust, her glowing love for Bee Man grew inside her.  Within the space of a few deep poundings of his huge penis she stopped seeing him as her date, and started seeing him as her boyfriend… then, a few more powerful slams later, his massive balls slapping her clit, he became her fiancé, and then, a few slams more her certain future husband.  Ms. Americana gasped in awe, as fantasies of standing at the altar, waiting for him, in a skimpy white bikini and a veil and little else, danced like a dream through her head… while his huge cock danced a dance of triumph in her pussy. 

“Oh… okay!” she moaned, and as he fucked her her fingers started dancing like magic across the keyboard.  In moments account after account opened up before her, and Bee Man was added to them all.  “There,” she moaned, as his huge veiny shaft pressed deep inside her trembling overloaded snatch.  “There!  We… we share everything now!” she moaned, sharing with him her cunt.

“Every cent?” he asked, slamming in hard.

“Ev-ev…every CENT!” she moaned, her head shaking with pleasure.

“Good!” he crowed.  He pulled out of her again, wrenched her trembling body around, and propped her huge ass up on the edge of the computer console.  Then, rising up, he lifted her thighs high and pressed his tip back against her ravaged, dripping pussy.  She gasped up at him in awe as his penis lay poised outside her vagina, and then moaned in awe, head sinking back to gape at the ceiling in shock, as he slid deep up inside her drenched pussy once more.

“Take your mask off for me!” he commanded, slamming her deep from the front.  “Take it off!”

Brenda gasped up at him, in shock, her buxom body trembling as his huge cock pounded into her.  But, from the front, his massive penis reached even deeper into her than before.  Within a few more slick deep thrusts, her long legs spread wide and shuddering in awe to either side of him, the moaning heroine no longer saw any reason not to.  Her gloved fingers trembled as they rose up to her face, and slowly peeled off her mask.  Her gorgeous naked face blinked up at him in awe, as she let it drop to the console.

“Are… are you going to… to take yours off too?” she asked, hopefully, as she jiggled and jerked under his deep thrusts.

He smirked and leered down at her.  “Maybe,” he said.  Then, seizing her ankles he lifted them high, squeezing her thighs tighter around her pussy, and set about slamming into her furiously with a series of devastating rising strokes.  Ms. Americana’s head shook back and forth as she squealed with dominated pleasure, and in seconds all thoughts of his mask were wiped from her mind as yet another explosion of moisture erupted out of her quivering pussy.

Picking her up off the computer, Bee Man slammed Ms. Americana into the wall of her base and began fucking her up against it.  Squirming and shuddering in awe, she rolled her head upon the steel bulkhead and moaned with quivering ecstasy.

“So… if you’re Brenda Wade…” he said, thrusting up into her savagely, “that must mean Flag Girl is…”  He paused, as if losing his train of thought.

“Lydia…” she promptly moaned.  Her hands caressed, worshipfully, across his broad shoulders, as his penis pounded inside her.  “My ward… Lydia Wells!” she moaned, head falling back as he got in a particularly good thrust.

“Hmm,” he purred.  “And Got Gal?”

“T-tanya O’Donnel!” Ms. Americana moaned, automatically.  Her head thrashed back and forth, as his huge cock-head ravaged her tender insides.

“Ah,” he said, as if enlightened.  “And… Green Specter?” he said, and gave her another pounding thrust, making her body jerk up the wall.

“Axanna… Axanna Morgan,” she moaned.  Trembling against the wall, she gasped in pleasure.  “Oh… god…”she moaned, caressing him as her body sung with pleasure.  “It… it feels so good… to finally have a MAN to share this stuff with!!!”

“Of course it does, bitch,” he purred, slamming in smoothly, “of course it does.”

Detaching her from the wall, he carried her back to the couch, slammed her down onto her back, and began fucking her upon it.  Ms. Americana gasped and shook in awe, as his huge penis ravaged her pussy.

“So…” he cooed, “what’s your weakness, bitch?”

“My… my what?!” Ms. Americana moaned.

“You know, your weakness…” he purred.  “Every heroine’s got one.  Tell me yours.  Come on, it’ll be naughty!”  To help persuade her he sent in a particularly dominating thrust, pounding in all the way to the hilt inside her tight sopping pussy.

“Oh, GOD!” Ms. Americana moaned, her eyes rolling under his thrust.  “My… my belt!” she said.

“Your belt?” he asked.  Holding her buxom hips tight he fucked her, hard, into the soft surface of the couch.  Her legs, spread wide, quivered in awe around his brutal slamming.

“Yes!” she moaned.  “If… if I lose it, I am powerless!  B-but, thanks to the new bio-sensor I installed… only… only I can do it!”  That had been a key feature, finally ending the many times a villain would defeat her by taking her belt.  At least, it had seemed important.  Now, suddenly, within her moaning head, nothing at all felt important save for receiving the next brutal thrust from Bee Man’s cock.

“Well, then take it off!” he said, grinning.  His face was sweaty, with the heavenly exertion of ravaging her pussy.

“Wh-what?” she gasped.

“Take off your belt!” he purred.  He put his hands on her tits, squeezing and stroking them with glee, as he pounded away brutally up her squirting pussy.  “C’mon, it’ll be kinky!” he purred.

She bit her lip and whimpered.  But he slid back a bit, took a firm hold upon her legs, and suddenly jackhammered into her with short, fast, machinegun-like strokes.  Ms. Americana’s head shook and she squealed.  “I said, take it off!” he commanded her, and finished up the ravaging whirlwind in her pussy by leaping up onto her and slamming in deep and hard.

“Oh, GODDESS!” Ms. Americana squealed.  Hand shaking with her desperation to obey, she seized hold of her open belt, ripped it off, and tossed it aside.  With a crackle of energy her mighty powers vanished.

“Thanks, slut!” Bee Man laughed.  “Now look at me!”

Her eyes, rolled half up in her head, had been gaping at the ceiling.  She shuddered, as his huge cock sunk home.  His thrusts suddenly felt even more brutal and savage as they slammed up into her pussy… which only made her tender channel ever wetter and hotter than before.  “Wh…what?” she gasped, eyes still rolling in her head.

“I said look at me!” he commanded, and gave her a savage thrust to prove his point.

She trembled and moaned, her squealing head thrashing from one side to the other.  But finally, shuddering, she obeyed.  “Okay, okay…” she groaned, her buxom trembling on the very cusp of orgasm.  Which one, she had long since lost track.  Breathing hard, she slowly turned her sweaty unmasked head, and looked up into her lover’s eyes.

“Hey, slut,” Mister Right purred, as he slammed his mammoth purple cock deep inside her helpless squirting slit.

Ms. Americana’s jaw dropped.  But before she could do a thing, he had seized her wrists and slammed them down into the couch.  Pinning her there, he continued to ravage her with his huge pussy-dominating cock, showing her de-powered body all the tender mercy a ravening Mongol horde might a helpless village.

“Oh… oh… oh, GODDESS!!” Ms. Americana screeched, gaping up into her leering foe’s face in horror as he pounded and pounded into her pussy.  “What… what have… you don’t to my beloved Bee Man… you FIEND?!”

“I AM Bee Man you stupid slut!” Mister Right laughed.  In moments, before her gaping eyes, the sweaty leering face of the man thrusting furiously inside her had Mister Right again.  “For the record, slut,” he said, slamming his huge cock upwards in her pussy, ravaging the tender front wall of her cunt, “the correct answer was ‘shape-shifter’!  Though I prefer the term ‘face dancer!’  Maybe next time you’ll let a superior male – which is all of us, by the way -  ‘man-splain’ to you, you stupid stuck-up bitch!”

“Oh, Goddess!  Oh, GODDESSS!!!” Ms. Americana squealed.  She barely heard him.  The deliberate slamming of his huge cock up the front wall of her pussy perfectly stimulated her clitoris and her g-spot.  In no time, though she tried desperately to resist it, the slamming of her enemy’s giant cock caused the most soul-shaking and devastating orgasm yet to erupt out of her buxom womb and spread through every inch of her body.  “OH… GREAT JUUUSTICCCEE!!!” she squealed, her body shaking and again in time to his cruel thrusts.  She shook and squealed for nearly a full minute, cumming again and again.

Taking advantage, Mr. Right yanked the depowered heroine up and put her onto her knees upon the couch.  Then, standing behind her, hands on her hips, he slammed back up inside and resumed furiously fucking her from behind.

“Oh, Goddess!” the helpless heroine moaned, body shaking under his each and every thrust.  Though she now knew it was her mortal enemy’s penis pounding deep into her pussy, he was giving her such devastating pleasure she couldn’t even begin trying to resist.  “How… how… how could you DO this?” she squealed, as she got ravaged.  “How… how could my sweet, tender, romantic Bee Man… be you?!!!”

He sneered, slamming away furiously up her helpless drooling cunt.  “Because,” he purred.  Wrapping one hand on her hair, he yanked her moaning head back, while using the other to spank her ass.  “The only men patient enough to put up with your shit long enough to be ‘romantic’, slut, the only ones who give enough of a shit to learn all your ‘rules’, are the guys who just want to get in your cunt!”  He sneered, and through a particularly hard and barbaric thrust up her helplessly quivering channel, to demonstrate his success in that area.  “And the only ones stupid enough to believe that ‘love’ shit, are either worthless losers or you dumb sluts!”  He sent another brutal thrust pounding into her, making her moan.  “There is no ‘love’, bitch,” he laughed.  “Only winners, losers, and pussy.  Players win, nice guys lose, and pussy gets fucked to keep score.  And in case you haven’t noticed… I’m fucking winning, bitch!”

Then, with a ferociously furious slam, he forced another orgasm into her cunt.  “Oh, Goddess!” Ms. Americana squealed, as her ravaged pussy started to squirt helplessly.  “That’s not true!  That’s not… not true!  That’s not TRUUUUUEEE!”  Head rolling about furiously upon her shoulders, she squealed loud enough to break glass as his big dick made her cum, again.

While Americana shook and squealed helplessly he picked her up, carried her to her car, slammed her down onto it, and began fucking her on the hood.  She moaned and gasped up at him, as he pounded her buxom hips into her car.

“Even if that is true,” she moaned, gaping up at him in awe as he owned her pussy, “How… how… did you do this… to ME?!  To ME??!”

He laughed, as she came yet again, furiously, on his cock.  “This ain’t my first rodeo, bitch!” he sneered.  “How do you think I tamed all your stupid slutty friends?!”

Ms. Americana shuddered, staring up at him in bewildered confusion.  Then she gasped in horror, as the truth set in.  “No…” she whispered.

“Yes!” he laughed.

“All of them?” she moaned, eyes going wide in horror… and a little awe.  “You… you seduced all of them?!”

“Yes!” he laughed.  Lifting up high he seized her hips and ravaged her with brutal savage ease.  “Oh, I ain’t always pretended to be a boyfriend.  I’ve been all types.  But no matter who I was, I never once raped one of you sluts ever!” he sneered.  “Every last one of you gave it up willingly… in fact, you begged me to fuck you!  You gave me your wombs, gave me all your money, gave me everything you asked for!  You sluts just never want to admit it, come the morning after!”

Ms. Americana gaped up at him in horror… even as her body shuddered helplessly under his fucking.  Then, with a sudden gasp of profound horror, her head whirled.  She looked at the screen of her computer… and her jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Oh… oh my God…” she moaned, shuddering as yet another brutal thrust sank home.

Upon her computer’s screens all her accounts, all of Brenda Wade’s wealth, was slowly draining away.  The little stick he’d slid inside had been waiting… and she’d opened herself up for it just as willingly as she had for his cock.  Filled with love for the man who, with every thrust into her pussy she had been more convinced would become her husband, she had signed all her accounts over to Bee Man.  Now, every cent was rapidly going away, being re-channeled away to Mr. Right’s numbered Swiss coffers.  She whimpered and gurgled, in horror.  But held down upon her car, there was nothing she could do about it.  Seeing where she was looking, Mr. Right cackled with glee.  To rub it in, he slammed his cock in deep and held it, grinding it against the deepest depths of her pussy.  Eyes rolling, Ms. Americana moaned in awe as with every second, as her accounts steadily drained away to zero, she seemed to be able to feel his massive veins throbbing in ever greater triumph against the walls of her conquered pussy.

“In the great battle of the sexes,” Mr. Right laughed, “once more, as always:  cock beats pussy!”  Then he pulled back, slammed in deep harder than he ever had before and unleashed a massive geyser of cum up into her womb.

Ms. Americana squealed, and squealed, and squealed, as a titanic load of cum spewed up into her.  The most powerful orgasm she had ever had wracked her body, and left her dazed and mindless.  Slowly, Mr. Right pulled out, his huge limp penis exiting her pussy with a sickening ‘slorp!’  Her precious slit was left gaping and ravaged.  A few seconds later, the first tendril of a whole river of his potent cum started to drool out, through her quivering labial lips.  Slowly, she slumped to the floor and lay there, exhausted.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, bitch,” he sneered.  From Bee Man’s old utility belt he pulled out a small pad and a vial of liquid.  He emptied one into the other.

“No…” Ms. Americana gasped.  She flopped onto her belly and slowly gaped at the floor in shock.  His cum ran in rivers down her mighty shapely thighs.  “No…” she whispered, eyes wide with emotional and physical shock.  “This… this can’t be…”

“But it is, bitch!”  Straddling her he reached down, seized her head, and slammed his soaked pad up against her face.  Ms. Americana whimpered and wiggled beneath him, huge hanging breasts shaking and sloshing delightfully.  But it was already too late.  In seconds, she started to weaken.  “Don’t worry, Ms. Ameri-Chump,” he purred, as he held his pad firmly to her beautiful trembling face.  “You won’t have to live with the knowledge of what an easily-tamed slut you are for long.  This is my own special formula.”  He pressed the pad tighter against her face, and grinned, as the quivering moaning super-heroine sucked more down helplessly.  “By the time you wake up,” he purred, “you won’t remember a thing… save how much you loved it.”

Ms. Americana whimpered.  But there was nothing she could do. Slowly, the struggles of her buxom naked body slowed, and the thrashing of her mighty cum-splattered thighs became slow, languid, and weak.  Finally, with a gasp, she collapsed.  Leering, he pulled the pad back off her face.  Her pretty mouth was parted slightly, as if for a kiss.  As she sunk into a memory-erasing rohypnol slumber, she exhaled slowly, and a feathery puff of female-mind-conquering gas fluttered from her full and opulent mouth.

 

Hours of swirling, moaning erotic dreams later…

 

“I think she’s waking up,” a female voice said.

“Does it matter?” another said, harshly.  “She won’t remember anything.”

“You… you don’t know that,” another voice said, in a hurt and quavering tone.  A young voice.  Lydia’s.

A heavy female sigh heaved, accompanied by a tiny creak Ms. Americana recognized as the straining of a spectacularly over-loaded bra.  “Trust me,” Got Gal sighed.

Slowly, blinking blearily, Ms. Americana opened her eyes.

She was surrounded by a sea of staring heroines, all in full costume.  Some gazed at her, beautiful moist eyes filled with sympathy.  Others – mostly the proud heroines whose asses Mr. Right had yet to conquer - glared at her with disgusted contempt.

She couldn’t remember a thing, since before leaving for her date with Bee Man.  She blinked her eyes blearily, trying to figure out what was going on.  Then, she felt a trickle of cum leaking out of her aching pussy… and suddenly, it all coming together within her woozy head, her eyes burst wide.  Her lips tried to let out a yell of shock, of denial… but all that came out was a muffled whimper, around the ball-gag she’d just discovered was plugging her luscious lips.

Ms. Americana stood, naked, arms chained behind her and shackled to the wall of her own fortress.  She was naked.  Mr. Right had taken her bra, and her panties, and even her new belt, to hang upon his ever-growing wall of trophies from his innumerable conquests.  In return, he had left a vast swarm of new valentines scattered around her squirming, shackled booted feet.  The array of red and purple cards depicted him fucking a vast collection of heroines… many of them now featuring his triumphant conquest of the Queen of Justice herself.

“He took all your security footage,” Omega Woman explained, as Brenda gaped down at the sea of cards in shock.  “After using it, and your printer, to make his valentines.”

“Don’t worry,” Flag Girl said. Standing, squirming, in her sleek and tiny bikini, she blinked at her stricken mentor in uncharacteristic pity.  Reaching out she stroked her older mentor’s shoulder, comfortingly.  “He’s gone.”

This may have been true.  But a piece of him remained.  Already, Ms. Americana’s once perfectly flat belly had started to swell up, as his mutant spawn grew within.  Her breasts had swollen up to almost fifty percent greater than their normal size, in preparation.  Her buxom hindquarters quivered as, inside her, she felt his baby kick.  Looking down, Ms. Americana blinked down at her hijacked womb in disbelieving horror and dismay.

“It’s too late, already,” Got Gal said, softly.  She sighed.  “Looks like Dr. Lingam is about to get another special ward,” she said, naming the name of Delta City’s leading experimental gynecologist.

Stepping forward, Flag Girl gingerly peeled the ball gag out of her mentor’s lips, and tossed it to the floor.  Then she stepped back, not wanting to touch her contaminated mistress too much.

“Do you remember anything?” she asked, hopefully.

Ms. Americana thought back, desperately.  She had been on a date with someone, and now couldn’t even remember who.  Not that it mattered.  She was a good girl, she told herself, and would obviously never have let him as close as coming back to her place on only the first date.

“No…” she whimpered.

The other heroines sighed and, turning away, shook their heads dejectedly.

But, strictly speaking, what she said was not entirely true.  She did remember one thing.  Deep down inside her aching pussy, which still tingled with the force and power of his brutal conquest, she remembered, quite clearly – and would, for all time – how utterly she had loved it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SUMMARY:  Ms. Americana goes on a hot Valentine’s Day date with her new super-beau Bee Man.  Afterwards, back at her place, she tells him about the infamous villain Mister Right before they begin kissing.  She tries to enjoy while keeping things from going too far but he manages, stealthily, to escalate her, making her hornier and hornier until finally she is almost begging for sex.  They fuck, and in mid coitus her boyfriend transforms into his real form:  none other than Mister Right himself.  Cackling, the villain taunts the heartbroken heroine as he ravages her pussy, then cums inside her.  Then, before she can recover, he hits her with his special memory-erasing gas.  Ms. Americana awakes naked, chained to the wall, visibly pregnant with his mutant seed, and surrounded by both her fellow heroines and his valentines.  She has no idea what has happened to her… save for the deep, satisfied ache inside her pussy.