Moonstone's Lesbian Porn Isn't Enough

Sue Storm tried.

In her room, the door closed, thighs spread wide, fingers rubbing at her wet slit, eyes glued on the screen where Dr. Karla Stone moaned like a whore, dressed in a shoddy Captain Marvel cosplay outfit, licking the pussy of a dark-haired young woman dressed like Spider-Woman.

It was hot. The Invisible Woman felt the thrill of forbidden excitement at the sapphic slutplay. Her cunny was wet, her breasts heaved as she breathed faster, skin flushed, nipples hard. Sue tried to imagine herself, first as one woman and then the other. To taste that pussy on her tongue. To feel Dr. Stone go down on her. She pushed her imagination to its limit.

Yet it wasn't enough.

Sue growled in frustration as the women on the screen achieved what she couldn't. Dr. Stone's masked face was transformed into something beautiful, almost beatific, as her partner sucked on her cunt as if the antidote was in it. The Invisible Woman saw those pale thighs quiver, the hips buck, the buttocks bunch. With an almost shocking explosion, she squirted directly into the ersatz Spider-Woman's mouth.

As the recording ended, Sue grabbed the pillow from behind her back and threw it at the screen. The fluffy blue pillow hit, the screen clicked off on impact, and it dropped to the floor. Leaving Sue Storm on the bed, panting, slit aching with need, unable to achieve any excitement.

Which was the very moment her husband chanced to walk in.

He was tired. Reed's eyes drooped, he yawned—yet he walked into his own bedroom to see his wife with the oversized Fantastic Four t-shirt hitched up to the waist, her labia on full display, dripping wet—and came to the wrong conclusion.

"Oh darling," he said as he stretched out of his pants. "Have you been waiting long? I'm sorry—"

Sue couldn't say no. Couldn't admit that she had been masturbating to lesbian porn. She could only spread a smile as her half-exhausted husband crawled on top of her for ten minutes of ****, heaving humping, the Invisible Woman so **** for climax that she urged him on, even without a condom, whispering filthy nothings in his ear, clawing at his buttocks, urging him on to superhuman limits.

Only to lay awake in the dark, as his seed dribbled out of her, husband snoring softly beside her, utterly unfulfilled.