Constantly Interrupted

Sue Storm had cleaned herself out carefully. Freshly showered, dressed only in an oversized blue-and-white Fantastic Four t-shirt, she had placed a tube of lubricant by the bed, and a towel. Just as she was looking up appropriate porn on her tablet to get in the mood, there came a soft knock at the door...and a softer voice that broke through the silence.

"Mommy? Franklin was having a bad dream and now he's floating above the bed and puking rainbows."

The Invisible Woman paused. Then closed the window she had been watching and was on her feet.

It was a long night, involving an emergency call to Agatha Harkness, a brief battle in a Nightmare realm, and the maximum recommended amount of Nyquil for a child of Franklin's age. When, in the wee hours of the morning, the crisis had finally passed and both the children were to bed, Sue looked at the kitchen clock and groaned. It was three in the morning. In a few hours she would have to get up.

Also, Agatha Harkness was still here.

"Coffee, please," the ancient witch said.

Sue Storm, still bare-assed beneath her shirt, nodded absently and went to work at the percolator. The woman had just saved her son's soul from an ancient demon of dreams. She couldn't exactly throw the old hag out just so that she could try and fuck her ass with her fingers.

Anal masturbation would have to wait. At least until Harkness was gone.

Unfortunately, this was one of those rare instances when the old woman was in the mood to chat.

"Did I ever tell you about my first husband?" she asked, as Sue poured out the black brew. No milk, no sugar. Harkness preferred her coffee as dark as her soul. Sue was not in the mood to have it any other way.

Sue shook her head, not sure she could remember much about what the witch had said. The heroine's bare ass was on the bar stool, and she felt glad that she hadn't lubed up yet.

"He was a randy beast," the old witch said with a soft cackle. Perhaps she was tired too. There were bags under the old woman's eyes, and a few stray hairs had fallen out of place. Even so, Sue was suddenly aware that the body beneath the ankle-length dark dress seemed...fuller...than before. The breasts were softer and more prominent, the hips wider, the ass gave a hint of something more than bustle, and there were fewer lines on the face.

"Always wanted to fuck me up the arse."

The Invisible Woman choked on her coffee. The hot, bitter brew spilled past her teeth, and the witch smiled softly.

"That's..." Sue coughed, wiped her mouth with a handy kitchen towel. Exhaustion lowered her own guard. "Did you like it?"

"At first, not so much. He seemed too enamored with my arse. Just wanted to move in there and plow it constantly. It got to the point where he was ignoring my cunny entirely. However, with time, as I got used to the sensation I...developed a fondness for it," the witch admitted. "You know, for a while I even took to wearing an anal plug?"

That was an image that Sue Storm could have lived without. Yet she found herself, all through the night, continuing the odd conversation with the older woman. Somewhere among the rapturous descriptions of anal play, Sue Storm managed to ask oddly specific questions which she would never have asked of anyone else, and Agatha Harkness answered simply, honestly, directly, the dark eyes fixed on Sue Storm...and when they hugged gently at daybreak, so that Harkness could return, Sue felt a shivering certainty.

Somehow, Agatha Harkness knew what Sue had wanted to do. That the whole conversation had been contrived to...what? Give her the heart-to-heart talk about anal sex that Sue needed? The heroine shook her tired head, too exhausted now to even think about playing with her ass.

Tonight, perhaps. Or tomorrow. And she would certainly keep some of the things Agatha Harkness had said in mind.