Acronym FAP: Forget About a Plot!

As Clover rose so did his still new and very unfamiliar dick and he quickly grimaced for release as his erection strained against the confines of his Spiderman tights. "How DOES he get it out, again?"

The buzzing field of ions became stronger and stronger and warmer and warmer; it was like they were being held up in the palms of a three-headed giant that transmitted their arousals directly into their bodies. And they were being taken towards cloud shapes that updrafts gave a sultriness that downdrafts separated into different individual thermals within the greater thunderhead.

And those winds had the pungent smell of cunts. Alex with her canine nose was overwhelmed. Already drenched with pussyjuice, the overload of same sexuality should have but didn't leave her gagging; instead, she ended up panting. And they were mixed with her moans, as the sparks jiggled the hairs of her fur all the way down to her follicles, to be interpreted as pleasurable petting. With smell even for humans being the most potent sense, the doggirl in psychological self-defense did a 180 to associate the pleasure with the redolence. She even had to add her own pussyjuice!

Sam was grateful Jessica Rabbit had a minimal nose, mere nostrils, judging by how thick the acrid air that escaped into her mouth tasted was. That only left her more aware of the little volts that danced over her exposed skin and found their way beneath her gown to jolt her nipples and clit, tits and cunt! Not to mention her a-hole! And there was nothing to ease the shrill thrills: She had no bra nor panties on! She, too, added her own pussyjuice to her flight into Seventh Heaven.

Clover's super-strong cock tore past the fabric of his pants. "From the way it feels to me, I expected it to look, like, larger. It's what? Eight inches?" But it was enough for three cloud figures to try and claim it.