Malice Gets On Her Knees...and Shows Porkum Exactly Who He's Dealing With

With a kittenish smile, Malice slid down onto one knee. Then the other. Porkum's grin widened, his snout tasted the air, his dark eyes seemed to glitter like gimlets in a deep cave. His cock rose until the top of the great pink prick brushed against the hanging underside of his gut, the cum-crusted foreskin now barely a foot from the kneeling blonde's face.

Her smile did not change. Yet she relished the sudden red flush that came to Porkum's cheeks, the way his face fell, jowls jiggling as something went fundamentally wrong with his world. The cock, which had stood up on it's own power, now seemed thinner. Compressed. A long, pink tube being squeezed down an impossibly long, tight invisible throat. Until lips of invisible **** pressed against the base, and the foreskin had peeled back entirely to reveal the distorted glans with the huge, gaping urethra.

"Have you ever stuck your dick in a bottle, Porkie?" Malice asked sweetly. "It's very dangerous. The suction, you see. The **** needed to pull it back out is a lot greater than that necessary to get it inside. Many men have made embarrassing trips to the emergency room, to get it cut off of their dick, before the swollen tissue starts to die, cut off from oxygen. It's why those pocket pussies always have a hole cut in the bottom."

Porkum tried to lunge forward, but the invisible cylinder trapping his cock was immovable, and the blonde was out of reach. When his arms extended out to their utmost, they only clawed against an invisible **** field in front of her face. He gasped in pain—and then in something else.

The invisible throat that gripped his cock began to move. Malice didn't stop smiling. She relished every moment of this erotic ****. The big pig man trying and failing to pull himself free. To wrench his dick outwards as she felt himself milked, faster and faster. Unable to exert any control of the situation. Face getting redder and redder, the animal musk of the room growing thicker as he sweated and toiled, both from the stimulation and his increasingly **** efforts to free himself.

Heat blossomed in Malice's face. Sweat began to drip down her body as her blue eyes dropped to the pistoning head of Porkum's prick. She couldn't feel it, couldn't smell it, but her imagination was filling in the details. She licked her lips, trembling with a deep sexual need that neither she or Sue Storm had ever experienced. Yet Porkum's pheromones, potent as they were, couldn't overcome the will of Sue Storm's darker side. Malice was used to surfing those subconscious emotions, to riding the wave of lust and dark, forbidden thoughts.

A primal grunt from deep in Porkum's diaphragm as her erupted...and Malice grinned wider as she saw the invisible bottle at the end of that tube that held him fill with spurt after spurt of unbelievably thick, hot, rich cream. She swallowed saliva as she coaxed every drop from him. The volume and density of it was beyond anything she had experienced in anything human. A whitish-grey groth mutant ejaculate that could have knocked up all of New York City in one gooey emission.

When he was spent and panting, Malice stood up. She released his cock from its cage—but the hard prick didn't go down. The villain growled, his angry dick pointed at Malice like a spear. She held up the invisible bottle.

"Thanks for this," she said. "Same time next week?"