Ororo and Mark [pt. III]

About half an hour had passed and they'd transitioned through a plethora of positions in a wild tour of the Royal Suite before somehow returning to nearly the same position their encounter had begun in with Storm on Mark's lap back on the couch.

Ororo, her head nestled in the crook of Mark's neck, basked in the warmth radiating from his youthful form. The remnants of their... athletic activities still clung to them – a sheen of sweat on their skin, the faint musky scent of arousal hanging in the air. But the frantic urgency of moments ago had given way to a quiet intimacy, a deep connection that transcended mere physical pleasure.

His enormous member, still powerfully erect and pulsing, remained buried deep within her. Ororo's entire upper body felt like a sheath, perfectly designed to house his magnificent tool. It was an odd notion, perhaps, but in that moment, it felt strangely comforting, a primal truth whispered by her very core. She could almost picture her organs shifting to accommodate him, the head of his manhood nestled intimately against her beating heart, a testament to the depth of their connection.

Of all her past lovers, only Logan came close to replicating this feeling of being utterly filled. But even his impressive appendage, a prior champion in her conquests of the flesh, paled in comparison to Mark's. It was both shorter and thinner, a mere shadow compared to the magnificent pillar of flesh that currently claimed her.

Logan was also a pump and dump sort of lover, While quite pleasurable and erotic when the mood suited, his rough and tumble demeanor didn't lend itself well to prolonged intimacy. Mark's ferocity in the bedroom was undeniable, but there could also be a tenderness to his attentions like now, a desire to please as much as he sought to take pleasure.

He encased her now in a deep, possessive hug. His hold, though strong and secure, was gentle, his fingers brushing against the smooth expanse of her neck in a gesture that was both protective and intimate. Her breasts were gently flattened against his chest, their fullness spilling around his youthful frame. She could feel his heartbeat, a steady pulse of life beating in time with her own.

From behind them the only visible proof of the depth of their current connection was the way her ample, round brown buttocks settled comfortably on his white thighs, the generous curves of her ass undeniably distended by the sheer immensity of the white base of the shaft buried deep within her womanhood. Mark's own voluminous testicles, large and heavy with the promise of his potent seed, nestled contentedly like a pair of smooth, melons beneath the yielding flesh of her buttocks.

"You were… intense, Mark," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper.

"Sorry," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. "Got a bit carried away."

"No… don't be," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "It was… exhilarating." Her fingers reached back, trailing a lazy path across his sweat-slickened chest. "You have a power… a rawness… it's intoxicating."

Mark chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Just a teenage boy with a big—"

"Shh…" Ororo cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't diminish yourself, Mark. You are a king. A conqueror. And yes," she added, a playful glint in her striking blue eyes, "you are very well-endowed."

Storm shifted slightly, adjusting her position on his lap in order to better accommodate the stiff pole of his manhood embedded within her womanhood. He smirked and feigned dismay, "Oh so you just like me for my huge cock, huh?"

"Indeed," Ororo nodded with a playful grin before placing a kiss on his lips. "Among other things," she murmured against his mouth as their tongues intertwined once more.

A burble of laughter suddenly erupted from Mark's chest and he pulled back.

She raised an eyebrow in question.

"Ole Chuck just downloaded some images into my head of Nightcrawler's little adventure on the roof."

Her young husband had only kept Kurt and his paramours around for a few minutes before casually instructing her teammate to take his 'missionary work' to the rooftops of the palace, to use his teleportation power to perform some public acrobatic debauchery with every last woman who had attended his service.

"Indeed?" she queried, not exactly happy that the Professor was intruding upon their precious time together but she supposed that was inevitable. Such an odd feeling to know that when she kissed Mark, she was in effect kissing Charles as well. That even now he was experiencing the exquisite pleasures of her channel through Mark's senses.

"What did you see?"

"Hmm. Let me see if I can show you." He carefully reached out and gently tapped her forehead.

A series of recent memories from various palace denizens suddenly flitted through Ororo's mind.

A Royal Guardsman, patrolling a deserted corridor, stumbled upon a tableau that would have hardened his thick black cock had it not been locked in the tight embrace of his Vibranium codpiece/chastity device. Pressed against the cool, unforgiving glass of a sixth-floor window from the outside was a shaman's wife that Ororo recognized from the session earlier. Her nude form plastered obscenely against the pane, her dark teats squashed into the transparent surface like pancakes as Kurt braced her on the ledge and pistoned into her with relentless abandon.

His feverish pink and blue rod plowed into her womanhood like a machine, his large pendulous blue nuts visible swinging between both of their spread legs.

Ororo could see from the guardsman's viewpoint that the woman's own womanhood had been split wide by Nightcrawler's large mutant cock, her nether lips stretched obscenely around its thick base. Her dark, glistening folds were opened wide around the invading shaft, so wide that they gaped like a dark chasm around his pistoning length.

Mark's mental image was so vivid that Storm could almost hear the wet squelching of Nightcrawler's seething manhood sawing in and out of the woman's once tight black cunt.

Another perspective, this one from the pilot of a passing Royal Talon aircraft as its lights illuminated a naked young woman atop a gently sloping section of roof. Her legs were splayed wide and ****, her small breasts jiggling rapidly as the man looked down upon them. Thrusting up from beneath her like a grotesque parody of a gargoyle was Nightcrawler clinging to the building's facade with his remarkable agility. His lower body pumped furiously, his face a mask of primal need as he drove himself into her stretched depths again and again.

Still another perspective - on an open-air bridge connecting two distant palace towers, a royal official stumbled upon a sight that defied all logic. A priestess of Bast, her body adorned with intricate ritualistic scarification, balanced precariously on the bridge's railing. Her dark eyes were glazed over with a mixture of fear and arousal as Nightcrawler pounded into her. It was only his exceptional strength and balance as well as that lengthy prick piercing her that kept her from tumbling off the side.

Then Ororo was fully back in the present, her young husband's cock still wonderfully embedded within her and he was looking at her expectantly.

"Kurt is certainly setting about the task you set for him with his usual gusto," she observed wryly.

"Hmmm. I was hoping for a bigger reaction. Hey, can I use my power on you?"

Ororo felt a familiar rush of excitement. She'd liked the idea of him using his abilities on her and experimenting with them from the very beginning. It has been too long since he'd done that with her specifically.

"Of course," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

"You'll see." He grinned and slowly raised his finger to her nose, quite unnecessarily given the sheer amount of their nude bodies in full contact, he was inside of her after all, but she could appreciate his showmanship.

But then, as Mark tapped her nose with a playful grin, the innocuous scenes of Kurt's energetic trysts that he'd conjured within her mind took on an entirely new meaning.

The humor he'd found in them washed over Ororo one hundred fold, a perverse delight that had her throwing back her head and laughing.
Here was a revered X-Man, a hero who had walked beside her on countless missions, reduced to a rutting beast, his sole purpose to spread his seed like a farmer scattering grain.

The mental image of her dear, sweet Kurt, the pious blue mutant, snatching up these oh-so-respectable once Wakandan women and whisking them away for a rooftop deep-dicking, was undeniably comical. She could practically picture the terror and exhilaration etched on their faces as Nightcrawler teleported them from one precarious perch to the next, his blue form a blur of acrobatic debauchery.

A peal of laughter, erupted from her lips, echoing across the chamber like a symphony of delight. Her body shook with mirth, his mighty white stallion still rooted securely within her.
Her heavy breasts jiggled merrily as her loud, hearty laugh continued.

"Well," Mark chuckled after she calmed somewhat, "I guess it worked. You found what I did to him... amusing?"

Wiping a tear of mirth from her eye, she leaned back in, her gaze locked on Mark's. "Amusing?" she echoed, her voice husky with amusement.

"Mark, darling, it's positively hysterical! The image of poor Kurt reduced to a rutting blue baboon cavorting on the rooftops, spreading his mutant seed amongst some of Wakanda's privileged elite– a sight that will fill me with delight for many moons to come!"

"Kurt has a unique way of filling his role," she added, snorting with amusement. "I can't wait to tease him about this later."

Mark's grin widened, his gaze taking on an amused expression as he regarded her. "Seriously? You don't have a problem with me making a monkey out of him? Turning him into an oversexed acrobat?"

"Not in the slightest," Ororo chuckled. "It's amusing, but also… right. Kurt is enjoying himself, experiencing the freedom to truly let go as never before. And the women," she added with a sly grin, "they're enjoying themselves as well. Quite fervently, I might add."

She leaned in and stole another kiss, her fingers trailing through his hair in a loving caress. "Now that we've rested and recovered ourselves somewhat," she said with a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes, "perhaps it's time for this Goddess of the Elements to follow Kurt's example and become a wild animal herself."

With a swift, fluid movement, Ororo shifted her position. The plush cushions of the couch provided little resistance as she rose, not just to a seated position, but into a deep squat. There was no fear of Mark's monstrous member slipping out – one of the undeniable advantages of her young husband's impressive endowment.
Unlike most men, whose far lesser tools could unseat with a wrong move, there was no danger of Mark detaching from her, no matter how acrobatic their lovemaking became.

The shift in position elicited a groan from her. The head of his manhood, nestled deep within her core, shifted with the movement, sending a jolt of raw pleasure through her. Leaning forward, she pressed her ample chest against his face, playfully smothering him briefly with her abundant titflesh before pulling back slightly, his attention now focused on her nipples.

The young mutant took to her offered buds with a predatory hunger, suckling them like a newborn babe. "Oh yes..." she whispered, her voice laced with unabashed desire as she arched her back and allowed him greater access. "That's it... Suckle on your goddess!"

As Mark worked his magic on her sensitive nipples, Storm began to gyrate her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, rocking her body in a wave-like motion. The plush cushions beneath her feet gave way with each movement, providing her with ample leverage as she sank down on his monstrous member.

Eventually Mark sat back to watch her ride and she decided to give him a show.

In a single, fluid motion, Ororo spun around, her hips pivoting flawlessly on the thick column of flesh that filled her. A full 180 degrees, and suddenly she was facing away from him, offering the generous globes of her round ass as a tempting feast. She emphasized it by reaching down, her arms forming supporting bars against the backs of her calves as she clutched his knees so that her entire body became a compact package of luxurious brown flesh.

"I hope you enjoy this view," she purred over her shoulder as she continued to rotate her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. "A fitting reward for your kingly deeds."

Mark responded with a grunt of pleasure, his hands finding purchase on the supple globes of her asscheeks. "Damn! Storm, your ass is fucking perfect! Unbelievable!"

Ororo giggled at the compliment, thoroughly pleased by his enthusiastic response. She arched her back slightly and gave her firm buttocks a teasing wiggle before resuming her gyrations.

"Think you can handle more?" she asked playfully. "Because I'm just getting warmed up."

She increased the pace of her movements, rocking back and forth on his impossibly massive white meat rod.

With the same sinuous motion as before, she began to raise and lower her hips with an effortless grace. Each descent sent her chocolate cheeks rippling with lewd intensity as they slapped against Mark's groin with a meaty smack. The tempo picked up until her brown skin became a blur as she bounced up and down on his mighty shaft like a wild bronco, each descent threatening to split her wide open.

"Fuck! This is good! SO fucking good!" Mark growled.

With a smug grin, Ororo peered over her shoulder at him, her long hair spilling across her back in a messy cascade of silvery locks. "How does it feel? To have Storm! Nature's Mistress bounce her full ass on your glorious cock: the pride of mutant manhood?"

"Fucking amazing! You're incredible!" Mark gasped as he watched Storm ride him.

The inexorable motion of her hips soon brought her to climax once again.

The mighty storm goddess released a primal scream. Her nails dug into the backs of his knees as she clenched his thighs like a vice and resumed her frantic bouncing, her chocolate cheeks smacking wildly against them as she rode out her orgasm.

Just as Ororo was about to resume her bouncing gyrations after the shocking pleasure leveled off, she felt Jean's sudden presence, her good friend and sister-wife implanting the awareness directly into her consciousness.

She tilted her head to look back as the spectral form of Jean Grey materialized beside Mark, her long red hair cascading down her bare shoulders like a waterfall of fire. Her exquisite form, devoid of clothing, radiated an aura of raw sexuality that rivaled even Ororo's. Her large breasts, a source of playful competition between the two first wives of Mark, jiggled with each subtle movement, their rosy tips taut with arousal. A mischievous glint sparkled in her emerald eyes as she surveyed Ororo's bouncing rear end before turning her attention to their king.

"Well, well, well," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "You two are certainly enjoying yourselves."