Superheroine Seducing Accountant

People enjoy keeping up the pretense that sex is primarily an action undertaken as a physical expression of affection or, if not, done for the purposes of physical pleasure. Yet, this claim is obviously farcically ridiculous on its face. If sex is simply a physical expression of affection, or done for physical pleasure, why do humans have such a strong urge to avoid having sexual contact in public? Hugs are acceptable; eating delicious food is acceptable; yet, you can hardly be expected to be allowed to have sex in public. No other animal does this as consistently as humans do. (Except the Arabian babbler.)

It would be easy to understand this peculiarity for cases such as cuckolding. When one is cheating on one's partner, one wishes the fewest possible people to know this, after all. Yet, we do it even when it is widely known and accepted that sex is occurring between two people, as in the case of a married couple. The true cause is obvious if one thinks about it:

Sex is primarily about reputation. In my own world, men bragged about successful sexual conquests, while women kept their full list of sexual encounters hidden. Here, the genders are reversed, but the principle is the same. By obscuring the details of sexual encounters in a consistent, widespread method, all involved parties can tell whichever lies they like about what has actually happened. Perihelion - or Kate - could claim that we had had sex, while I could claim that we had not, and no one would be able to distinguish truth from fiction, thanks to the fact that we had sex in private.

This applies to married couples too: consider the undue weight given to a married couple sleeping in different beds, for an obvious example. This is a consequence of the fact that signs of small or great amounts of sex are difficult to find directly. A marriage with insufficient sex appears particularly weak, and therefore vulnerable to disruption by an outsider bent on stealing away one partner or the other. A marriage with a large amount of sex might seem good, but it is like being the only person laughing at a joke: it can only serve to produce feelings of resentment or envy by others.

In any case, the solution to such a problem is obvious: lie. "What, specifically, did Perihel- did Kate," I corrected, using her personal name in a manner intended to make it seem as if I was deeply offended, "claim that we did together?"

"Like I said, nobody believed her." I maintained a cold steel gaze that forced Mira to continue speaking after a brief interregnum of silence. "She said that you invited her into your apartment. She also claimed she'd gotten laid recently. She also suggested that you were great fun and she looked forward to 'working' with you in the future. When she said working, she did this." Mira mimed an exaggerated wink and wiggled her elbow as if jutting into somebody else. "In fairness, she only did that with me. The wink and nudge, that is."

"I see."

"She's just insecure, honestly. I mean, I'm insecure too," Mira said, making my attention jerk to her with a degree of surprise. She'd seemed quite cocky and self-confident thus far... "I just compensate for my insecurities by lavishing handsome men with expensive gifts, rather than claiming that I've had sex with them." Ah. She was just using faux-insecurity to flirt. That made rather more sense than confessing to a character flaw to a stranger for no reason. "When I sleep with a man, nobody knows except him and me - and he never forgets," she added, with a wink.

This was getting dangerously close to sexual harassment itself. In fact, far worse sexual harassment than anything Kate had done, which would be more accurately described as 'being impolitic about sex'. I had been the one to suggest sex, after all. "Aren't you my boss?"

"No, no," Mira said, raising her hands and hurriedly waving away the idea like it was some type of insidious demon. "I'm not your boss. We make decisions by committee with a regularly selected executive, which is currently Hank, and will definitely never be me." I couldn't do much besides nod along to that, having no idea who Hank was. "No, I just donate hundreds of millions of dollars to help keep things afloat, and help out with little things like getting handsome new members settled in."

Or, in other words, she had the power to withdraw that money if I did something improper in my conduct as an employee of this organization. I wasn't interested in being blackmailed - if that was what this job was about, I would rather be unemployed. I decided to just be straight about it, to avoid lingering in some unpleasant state of ambiguity. "It's hard not to take that as an implicit threat."

"Mm. I guess that is true," she said, idly tilting her head to one side as if it had just occurred to her. "I suppose I have no choice but to withdraw any attempts at seduction. Don't worry, I don't need you to prop up my fragile feminine ego. I can find other guys, probably even more handsome, smart, and cool than you to do it," she said, with an impish smile.

She was being self-deprecating, but she didn't make it sound like she was at all hurt by the admission of her own fragile ego. I wish that I could manage such a feat, to insult yourself while appearing completely confident nevertheless. "To prop up your fragile feminine ego?" I prompted.

"Indeed. I am afraid that I compensate for my insecurity about whether or not I really deserve all my wealth, intelligence, and good looks, by having sex with nice, handsome guys like yourself, and just throwing gifts at them. Oh, and if you've heard about me crushing a guy to death from all the expensive cars I bought him, those charges were dismissed. And also the story was made up just now," she added, when she saw I was less than 100% certain about if it had really happened. "But, since you're not interested in a workplace relationship, I suppose I have no choice but to find some other man and lavish him with gifts..."

"I was told that I would get paid over a million dollars a year to work here," I said, hoping to dissuade her from the idea that I was a cheap date.

"Did you know," she said, leaning forward subtly, inevitably drawing my eyes down towards the dip of her cleavage, the lovely breasts... they weren't quite as big as Kate's, but they were still very nice, "that I make that much money in two hours?"

"What could you do in two hours that would possibly be worth that much money?"

"Oh, just stock appreciation," she said, with an idle and dismissive wave of her hand. "What you should be wondering, is what you could do for two hours that could possibly be worth that much money." She gave a wink that seemed to suggest the idea of having sex with her, yet didn't say it outright. "Just something to think about, when you're not busy with work. You'll be working with Xico at first," she said. I now know how to spell it, but if you had asked me at that very second, I would have said Shee-ko. It's a rather exotic name. She opened the door. "Xico!"

The girl literally floated over, her feet at least a foot above the ground, but she wasn't standing straight up - she was practically tumbling through the environment. Her skin was dotted with symmetrical, circular marks, stretching from her cheeks down to her neck, and running down her legs. She had a pair of tentacles which seemed to emerge from the small of her back, like a pair of identical tails. Her blonde hair was styled into two separate streams, each reaching just past her shoulder blades. She didn't make eye contact, instead looking at the ground.

Mira put two hands on Xico's shoulders, gently pushing her towards me. "This is Xico. She wants to be an accountant one day. She won't be a bother, promise. Quiet as a mouse," Mira added, with a quick wink, as she presented the girl to me. My first appraisal was just that she was cute.

She glanced up at me, blushing red for some reason. She raised one hand - and one tentacle as well, like a sympathetic movement - and waggled it in a faint and unsure sign of interest. "Hi," she managed to get out.

"I'm not here as a teacher," I said.

"No, no. She's just going to be reviewing your work. Don't worry, I don't expect you to teach her anything at all." She paused. "Do you want me to tell Kate to leave you alone? She'll do it, she's on thin ice with sex stuff. Terrible flirt, not like me."

Did I want her to tell Kate to leave me alone? On the one hand, I didn't want my reputation dumpstered as some kind of slut. On the other hand, I wanted to get more of her absolutely god-tier blowjobs. Xico was burning red, her eyes now focused on her bare toes, wiggling them about on the floor awkwardly. Why was she not wearing shoes in the office? Sure, she could fly (or float) but it seemed unprofessional anyway.

"Just tell her to stop talking about sex stuff. Or implying sex stuff. Or whatever she's doing."

"Glad to see you're amenable - both to a little forgiveness from her, and a few more hours of flirting from me," Mira said. She also winked. At this point I was beginning to wonder if it was some kind of nervous system disorder that made her wink so much.

Xico giggled. Both of us looked at her. "Sorry," she mumbled out. "Thought of... something funny."

"Xico's a bit sheltered," Mira provided, patting the girl's shoulder. "She was homeschooled growing up. But, she is in fact eighteen, so we can't just ship her back to middle school. We're hoping a little learning-by-watching will go a long way. If it doesn't, don't worry, no one will blame you." She clapped her hands. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to do your thing!"

"L-lovebi-" was as far as Xico managed to sputter out, embarrassed, before Mira had successfully slammed the door shut on her. She glanced up at me, as if to confirm that we weren't lovebirds. "I know we aren't... like that," she added, as if to deny that she had been looking at me to confirm that we weren't lovebirds.

"I'll start sorting through documents now," I said. "What I'm done with, I'll give to you, and you can read it, alright?" She nodded in reply, quietly floating over to hover somewhere behind me. I was just glad the documents were relatively clear, because it meant I finished my first one in only a minute and a half by the clock, rather than having a floating teenager getting antsy and destructive out of boredom.

* * *

It was two hours in - well, twelve minutes objectively - when I had fallen far enough into the zone that papers and numbers and digits became indistinct quantities, and my mind could wander. This was a workplace environment. I wanted to avoid massive drama; had I screwed up royally by having sex with Perihelion? She had a gorgeous body and was a dedicated fellatrix, but if it was going to cause problems...

I was drawn out of my thoughts by some kind of choking noise coming from Xico who was still floating behind me. She was bright red, hurriedly dropping the papers in her hands down to the ground. She had apparently been eating some kind of protein bar - it was still held by one of her tentacles - and was now choking on some small bit of it. I got up behind her quickly, and began to do my best to perform the Heimlich maneuver. She sputtered and coughed up the bit of protein bar after a few pumps on my part, and was desperately gasping for air in the aftermath.

"Th...thanks," she got out, the moment she was back together. Her face was a bit of a mess, with tears staining her cheeks, saliva on her chin, and for some reason my mind decided to wander right back to seeing Kate on her knees sucking my cock like it was God's purpose. Xico turned bright red, her eyes growing big as saucers. "Sorry!" She squeaked out.

I patted her shoulder gently. "It's alright," I soothed, and she did calm down a little, letting out a soft breath. "Just try to be careful while eating in the future, alright?" She nodded quietly, wiping her tears with her hands. I started to move back to my seat, and since I was now moving without panicking about the fact that Xico was choking, I became critically aware of the raging hard-on in my pants. And at pretty much exactly the same second, Xico's eyes went down to it, big as dinner plates.

It produced this long, awkward moment, her quietly wringing her hands, tentacles nervously curling up behind her. She glanced up at me only a half-second after looking at my dick, but it was obvious that she'd noticed it, and taken a lot of notice of it.

I am sorry to tell you that I am not the sort of man to take advantage of an innocent eighteen year old, homeschooled to the point that middle school was around where she needed to be re-educated. Actually, in all honesty, I'm not sorry to tell you that. I might even go so far as to say I'm proud. So I sat down, tried to ignore the way my dick awkwardly wiggled against my thigh in its confinement, and the way that I could hear as Xico's breathing moved while she floated around, growing a little closer, a little further up, presumably trying to get a good look at my dick. She seemed to give up after only a second or two. That was good - it meant I could get back to work.

* * *

All in all, the paperwork was as much of a mess as I had expected. It was definitely going to take me days - a normal person months - to untangle it all and get everything set up properly in the future. When I finally came out of my office, I felt like every bone in my body needed to pop, so I stretched my body a whole hell of a lot, craning my body backward, stretching my legs to both sides...

I only realized that it might be a bad idea to do that in this world when I noticed that half of the female employees in sight range were now staring at me, and the other half were very purposefully not staring at me. Even a glance over my shoulder backwards at Xico confirmed she was one of the ones working very hard to avoid staring.

"It..." she started. "Um... sorry..." she decided. "I haven't..." She trailed off.

I hadn't even said a single word to her, but she had an ability to come off as so overwhelmingly innocent that it hurt. Despite the knowledge that she was probably exaggerating it for effect, I felt bad as her cheeks began to glow under my quiet gaze. It felt as if I'd been accusing her in my head of something I knew wasn't true, or at least, not her fault. That didn't matter, really, since I hadn't said anything, and I saw her getting even brighter red so I decided to try to soothe her anyway. I reached out and tousled her hair. "You're good, Xico." She looked up at me, all nerves and nervous smiles, her tentacles absently curling up behind her.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and I got a good look at it for the first time. I realized after a fraction of a second it wasn't one tongue, it was several, tiny little threads of tongues, each one no thicker than a pinky, moving somewhat independently. Part of my brain went to the thought of what tongues like that could do in the bedroom, and Xico squeaked and started to hurriedly float away from me, blushing bright red.

I wondered if perhaps some trauma had afflicted her, or if I just didn't get something about this world's sexual mores, since at this point acting this way didn't seem to serve any conceivable purpose as a manipulation. Before, her behavior produced an assurance that there was nothing to feel guilty about, something a great many people feel an entirely self-interested desire for. Now, however, it only would get me out of her sight. "Xico, hey," I said, moving to catch up with her. She quickened her pace (if indeed it's still called a pace when you're floating in the air), but I had superspeed, so it didn't do her any good, and soon I took a grip on her wrist. (I didn't grab a tentacle, worried they'd be too sensitive. Tentacles lack bones, after all, so the closest equivalent in a human body would be grabbing your tongue.) "Don't worry about it." She just nodded quickly, not even sparing a glance my way. "Did I do something to offend you?" I asked at last.

"No! No. No. You're nice," she said, still not looking at me. Her tentacles curled in a manner I was coming to associate with awkwardness.

I decided to release her. We would be able to speak more in depth tomorrow, when I came back in for work. She let out a faint sputter and I could actually see her flush stretch down to her neck, even from behind, as she sped away at maximum speed.

* * *

Kate appeared at my home that night. I call her Kate because she wasn't in her costume at that point, but instead wearing a smart, business casual outfit as she stood in the doorway. "Hello," she said, with a nod to me as I stood in the doorway, and a trailing glance down my neck to the hint of shoulder as she realized I wasn't wearing a shirt. Wearing less around the apartment just felt nicer, really. "I hope that I didn't ruin things between us."

I just stared at her for a long couple seconds, and she practically wilted. It was incredible, the amount of power that you wielded when you were the one being pursued. Truly ridiculous. I could only conclude that women in this world had been ridiculously oppressed before feminism, if they had to deal with both having fewer political rights and having to plead for cock as much as men plead for pussy. "What thing is there between us?"

She frowned at that. It was obviously a question she didn't know the answer to. "You're... my... groupie?" She asked, squinting as she spoke, and seeing by my face that it was the wrong answer. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

I thought about it for a second, and the answer was - honestly, no. She was hot, and a good lay, but that was about it. It's a cruel reality, but sometimes, we simply don't like people. Not because they are evil people, but in much the same way some people don't like chocolate. It is simply a matter of taste. In terms of personality, it was utterly impossible to imagine myself in a long term relationship with her if she acted like she had at basically any point where I had not been taking off my clothes or naked, and I didn't think that becoming a nudist would make a good foundation for a relationship.

"No," I told her. Her shoulders slumped, and there was a familiar, miserable, expression on her face, as if she'd worn it a great many times in the past. Part of me brought up the fact that she was a beautiful woman so it should be impossible for her to suffer such a thing. The other part of me pointed out that this was a world of reversed sexual morality, and that I, a person from the normal world, was also rejecting her. Being hot couldn't make up for everything, after all. "But, I wouldn't mind the two of us having sex again, if you can keep your mouth shut."

She winced at that. "Sorry. I was really excited." She cut herself off before she could explain why she was excited, but I could guess.

That didn't mean I wasn't going to ask and tease her. "Why were you excited?"

"You know. It, uh. You were really good in bed. Way better than normal."

"You only came once," I pointed out. She quietly squirmed in place as I pointlessly teased and played with her heart. It was easy to see why women could be so blackhearted, when seeing this kind of reaction from a beautiful woman was so damn sexy.

"I'm... I have a hard time coming, normally!" She lied through her teeth, and poorly. "We just have really compatible bodies!" Her hand absently twiddled with her hair, and she glanced from side to side down the hall. "Can I come inside, please?"

I decided to let her in. Her eyes, naturally, immediately went for my bare chest and just drank in every last inch of it, practically salivating as she saw my abs and pecs. I closed the door behind her, then leaned against the wall. "Now tell me the real reason you were excited about it, or you can go right back out the door."

She flushed with color at that, eyes forcibly drawn back up to my face. There was something in them beyond simple humiliation at being forced to answer a question like that, and it made my cock throb and harden in my jeans. "...It's been a while since I got laid," she admitted at last, ducking her head low, but also looking up at me for approval.

Treating her in this manner was awakening all sorts of sadistic tendencies inside myself that I didn't previously know about. Still, I am not an overtly cruel man, so I gently reached out for her, giving her cheek a soft pat, placing my hand against her face and staring her dead in the eyes. "Thank you." I recalled her previous request, the one she'd made during our fellatio. As any good lover would, I chose to use what I knew of her preferences to make things better for her. "That's a good girl."

She swallowed. There was a tension to her body as she let out a soft pant a moment later, as if she was a coiled spring anticipating being released. She was silent as she stared at me, waiting what I would say next, what demand I'd make of her. My cock was absolutely rock hard as I drank in that look on her face, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation of raw power over her that I held at the moment. She would do anything to fuck me again.

"Kneel," I ordered, and she slammed to her knees in front of me hard enough to make a loud thump. The part of me that was not quite so overwhelmed with feeling said that I needed foreplay - the other part suggested that perhaps, for Kate, this was foreplay. I simply took my cock out and began rubbing it against her face, my manic state of arousal overpowering all my good sense. Even in a world of reversed sexual morality, this was a bit much, wasn't it? Like a girl forcing the guy to get on his knees then smearing her cunt all over his face.

Kate didn't seem to mind one bit, though. She let out a shuddering breath, her nostrils flaring as she looked up at me with a hazy look that said she absolutely loved this.

It was tempting to keep going, to force her to rim me, or some similar extreme act. Success builds on success, after all, at least until one acquires victory disease and bites off more than one can chew. So I decided to proceed to something I knew would work from experience: I pushed my cock right past her lips and sawed all the way into her throat with a low groan. She immediately set to work on swallowing and licking my dick, twisting her head from side to side. She was completely clothed in a nice blouse and slacks as she sucked me off like she was born to do it.

I just held her there, hand on the back of her head, lost in the moment as I craned my head backwards. For a long few (wondrous) seconds, all I did was groan and gasp, but eventually I regained enough of my senses to give my sexual partner an appropriate kindness. "Good girl. That's a good girl. You keep sucking my cock like that, and I might let you do it in my office." I was mostly speaking gibberish - and also I couldn't let her suck me off in my office, since Xico was observing me - but it was like a fire was lit under her. She started to forcefully bob her head up and down my cock, her power-enhanced strength letting her easily overpower my grip on the back of her head as she started to frantically facefuck herself on my cock.

It was wild. From my perspective, it was incomprehensible: she was clearly delighting in the fellatio, but it wasn't as if she was masturbating at the time. With the benefit of time and hindsight, I can easily explain it, of course: just as in my world, men put quite a lot of effort and purpose into making their lovers feel good (and, indeed, in retrospect I was doing exactly that by responding to her apparent submissiveness by becoming increasingly dominant and sadistic), as a point of masculine pride, so too did women in this world make a point of making sure their lovers felt good. To do otherwise would be like a guy who couldn't make his woman come, the sort of thing only described by words like pathetic, selfish, asshole, virgin, and loser.

At the time, though, all I knew was that this superheroine had her brow furrowed as she furiously facefucked herself on my cock, full of determination to make me come right down her throat. Her tongue twisted and wriggled on the underside of my cock, feeling more like she was drawing out kanji than writing Roman characters, with how complex and circuitous the movements of her tongue were. My fingers curled into fists and bashed against the wall behind me, my hips absently bucking forwards, balls slapping against her chin. It was too good for me to hold out for too long, and soon enough, I was grabbing her head again and grinding her into my pelvis as I ejaculated directly into her stomach.

It was only when I was completely spent that I finally let her off. She had flushed cheeks and a warm smile as my cock popped free from her mouth. A thin trail of saliva briefly stretched from lick to cock, before it broke as she spoke. "Was that good enough? I'd love to suck you off at work."

Part of me instantly took those words as some of the sexiest that a woman had ever said to me. Enough of me, however, maintained the presence of mind necessary to realize that they were also absolutely pitiful and reflected a truly degenerate mindset. It was like a man asking to eat out his secretary at work. Only someone pathetically in love, or a total oral junkie, would make an offer like that. I definitely hoped she wasn't in love with me, since we barely knew each other. In any case, the answer didn't change: "I can't. Xico's going over my paperwork in my office, so she'd spot you."

"Oh." Kate sighed. "I guess you're right. Can't really hide from her."

"Not when she's in my office, at least," I told her. There was something vaguely surreal about having this conversation while she was on her knees in front of me, my still-erect cock having just got done blowing my load directly down her throat into her stomach.

"Take off your clothes," I ordered, wanting to drag myself back into reality. She stripped as quick as she could, without subtlety, peeling out of her blouse, her slacks, tossing aside her plain white bra and underwear. (Shockingly unsexy for a moment before I realized where I was and it became obvious why - how many pairs of sexy underwear does your average man own?) Once she was naked, I just acted, not even bothering to speak - she seemed to like that, when I just took action without asking. I could only assume it was because it was sexy, like having a girl do something wild and crazy in the bedroom without prompting, and you could delude yourself into the idea that it was because you were just that hot, that you drove her that wild.

I grabbed her by the chin, forced her to her feet, then pushed her up against the front door to my apartment. "Stay quiet," I hissed out, recalling scenarios like this from a wide variety of pornographic material. She actually salivated the moment I said that, but she swallowed and nodded a second later, almost giddy as a stupid grin slid across her face. I grasped her hips, forcing her ass out a little to make a better angle, then slid myself into her.

Her breasts pressed against the wood of my apartment front door, making the occasional faint squeak or rubbing noise as I started to fuck her. At first, I was slow and ginger, ramping up gradually, wanting to make sure she could control herself. When no sound escaped her lips whatsoever beyond labored breathing and desperate sniffs of the air, I began to increase my pace to seriously fuck her. Her body quietly slid up and down the door, and when it made a few squeaks too many, her hands slapped against the cool wood and she set her body's position firmly in place. She bit her lip and let me go wild inside her.

Going wild is exactly what I did, too. I didn't bother thinking of her pleasure at all, that's how lost I was in the moment, in the simple feeling of raw power. Perihelion was a superheroine, somebody who could shrug off bullets and keep up with a jet liner. She was also, right now, submissively, silently, taking my cock, wearing the most beautiful, erotic expression as she kept her teeth firmly latched to her lower lip to keep any noise from escaping her throat. I couldn't help just grabbing her hips and jackhammering away, pounding at her pussy like it was a sex toy and I was about to come.

She came before me despite all that. It was a strangled, swallowed noise, a faint gurgle of a thing, but it was unmistakable, if only for the way that my motion inside her cunt was completely arrested each time her muscular sex convulsed around my cock. Her grip was like iron: any movement of my hips felt more like I was trying to stretch my cock than that I was trying to move it. Despite that, it felt fantastic, the way her cunt rippled and slid around my cock, her juices practically gushing out around my dick, drooling down her inner thighs as she shuddered in ecstasy.

I let go the moment she was finished coming, filling her warm cunt up with a copious amount of my seed all over again. My body shuddered, my heart pounding a mile (or a hundred miles, perhaps) a minute in my chest, my cock twitching inside her as I did so. I was still hard. I just needed a moment to recover. We'd barely been fucking ten minutes (objective; also subjective, I doubt I could have lasted one minute if I'd gone all out at superspeed, even taking into account the fact that she'd be less responsive). I could go again. I only needed to catch my breath, I mentally ordered myself.

Instead, I slumped forward over her, my chin hooking onto Kate's shoulder as I completely ran out of juice. She smiled warmly at that, not in that ridiculously lewd way she had when I'd pushed her up against the wall, but in the ordinary, pleasant way that you might a friend or lover. She shifted her position, slid me out of her sex, and soon enough had me in her arms, bridal style, to be carried back to my bed and tucked in.

For her, no doubt my rapid orgasms and exhaustion were a real ego boost. A girl coming a bunch real fast and being unable to keep going, while you come only once? That was a man's fantasy back in my world. But at the time I didn't see it that way. I wanted to be the one making her come her brains out, and I'd failed at that.

No. Not necessarily. "Kate," I said, my voice sharp. She paused in the doorway, naked, and looked back to me, full breasts silhouetted by the light of the living room. I didn't have the energy to keep going, and having her do the work wouldn't cure my needy ego, so - "Come on. Join me in bed."

I was worried she'd find the cuddling too emotional, just on some vague idea of reversed gender norms, but she was quickly tucked in right next to me, turning me onto my side, her full breasts pushed into my back, a warm smile on her lips as she nuzzled into my neck.

Don't worry - I managed to switch our positions so that I was big spoon before either of us actually went to sleep.

That also meant that, when we did wake up the next morning, my hard-on was perfectly positioned for sex. Her mouth was open and she was drooling, forming a small puddle on the bed (and making me glad we'd switched spots, so the drool wasn't on me); her hair was a tangled mess from the night, some of it idly worming its way into my mouth. I had to spit it out, before I was properly ready to fuck her senseless, but I wasn't going to act simply for my own pleasure this time. I was also going to act for the sake of my ego.

With one hand, I gripped the base of my cock, angling it at her sweet sex, and started to slide inside her. With the other, I began to gently tease and roll a fingertip around her clit. She fluttered to life, as did her clit and body as a whole, her sex soon growing wet, her clit throbbing with passion. "...going to just use me while I sleep..." she mumbled out, but not disapprovingly - like it was her fantasy, and she was in enough of a haze of slumber and wakeup pleasure to say it out loud.

Naturally, knowing she was into it only encouraged me further, and I really started to thrust in and out of her, fucking her cunt. I might have said something nice and pleasant, like morning, beautiful, or I hope you enjoy, but since she seemed to want to be used, I decided to say something along those lines. "I had morning wood and figured that your pussy would be a good place to put it. Do you have a problem with that?"

She shook her head rapidly, starting to really wake up at the question, eyes widening, gaze flicking over her shoulder to look at me. My cock was raging hard inside her at this point, my hips pounding away as best I could without really dipping into my superspeed; given the awkward position we were in, it wasn't that much. My free hand went to her tits, just roughly groping and squeezing one as I fucked away. It felt good in my hand, firm yet supple, my fingers able to sink an inch in before losing to the fat and muscle but still enjoying a full feeling anyway. She just groaned at my rough treatment of her breast, panting, her lips beautifully parted as she simply took my rough use of her body.

That time I managed to make her come before me, and didn't orgasm the moment she was done putting that superstrong pussy of hers to good use gripping and squeezing my dick. She laid there, looking absolutely gorgeous in the afterglow, all flushed cheeks and wet thighs and hard nipples. The wet sound of my balls slapping at her thighs with each additional thrust was the only sound in the room besides the ceiling fan's quiet swinging. "That's a good girl," I breathed out, and she let out this quiet little moan, like those were the four words she most wanted to hear in the whole world. "That's a very good girl." I didn't have any other lines, having no idea what in particular she wanted to hear, but she wriggled beautifully on my dick anyway.

"Ah... thank you," she panted out, as I fucked her. It wasn't a sincere thank you - it was the sort of bizarre faux-gratitude that one uses when one wishes to play a role in some deranged sexual fantasy. Even though I'd never heard those sorts of words come out of a woman's mouth, they were instantly recognizable. She didn't mean thank you as in, I sincerely love being told that I'm good enough, she meant it as in, Look at me, I'm so pitiful I should be grateful for the slightest praise.

As to which was sexier, I had no idea - I hadn't heard the first kind of thank you. Either one sufficed to really get my motor running, because I shifted her on the bed, twisting her so that she was face first into the pillow, raising her ass into the air so I could ram into her doggy style. She squeaked a little in surprise, but soon went along with it, letting me continue to fuck her from behind.

In the new position, I could go all out - and not only did I want to, I did. I carefully began to push up my velocity, taking full advantage of my superspeed. At first I was going only half again my normal speed, but I watched her features, the way her body jiggled, and I found myself wanting to see it in even slower motion, to watch the ripples of flesh as I rammed into her each time. Each thrust came at the same pace as far as I was concerned, but from her perspective, it probably took less than thirty seconds before I was pounding away at ten times the speed.

She liked it, though. There were no squeals of pain or sudden gasps or attempts to escape, just bewildered moans that soon melted into orgasmic bliss. With my speed like this, whenever her cunt would grip me, I could pause and wait for it to release - then make a whole two thrusts in and out before it grabbed me tight again.

It was wonderful. Any remaining guilt or lingering shame at not having managed to make her come her brains out vaporized in the wake of the repeated, powerful orgasms she made. Her legs kicked at the bed in apparent slow motion; her powerful fists rained down; she cried out in pleasure, each noise stretched out seemingly for an eternity as she rolled her eyes up. Every ridiculous o-face she wore was etched into my memory, drawn out for what felt like a solid minute for each one, letting me observe the way her lips fell open, her tongue lolling out, her whole body squirming with pleasure.

By the time I finally did come inside her, I'm pretty sure she'd orgasmed at least a half-dozen times, and I could feel satisfied with that. Eight orgasms for her, five for me. That was a good ratio, even back on my world.

I pulled out without any ceremony. She wasn't slick with sweat - I had to assume she'd never be, if she managed to go through all that without getting sweaty. She was panting heavily on the bed, her skin flush with arousal, but I just collected a fresh batch of clothes and headed for the bathroom to shower. She could get herself dressed, figure out what to do. I'd made it clear this was just about sex, after all.

* * *

I went to work feeling like a million bucks (which also happened to be my salary, so it was appropriate). I spotted Xico and waved her over, and she followed me into my office as I settled in to get to work. I hummed to myself, smiling brightly, and I could see her fidget behind me, as if wondering what thoughts were making me feel so good. Fortunately, she didn't ask - it wasn't like I could tell her I'd spent this morning railing Kate to heaven before giving her the brush-off, after all.

Xico gasped - it was loud, too, and I turned her way, worried. "Did I make a mistake?"

She blinked rapidly at that, staring me dead in the eyes for a long few seconds. Tears started to form in her eyes, which just made me more concerned. "I'm a telepath, Mr. Cooper! Sorry! Ms. Stone told me to make sure you weren't doing anything funny with the paperwork, and you keep- I won't tell anybody about it!" She didn't even say it aloud, though by the furious flush to her cheeks and the way her gaze was now on some point on the wall to avoid looking at me, I knew what she meant by it. She meant the sex between Kate and me. Her blush moved to stretch down her neck towards her chest the moment I thought that, and she gave a tiny nod, unambiguously confirming my suspicions.

Well, crap.