Reed Is Interested In The Fake Piercings

Reed Richards was in his lab, sketching a doomsday weapon. Not that he would ever build it. Theoretically, subtracting the intrinsic field from the entire planet would cause every particle to disassociate at the speed of light, a brilliant explosion without **** which would leave the electromagnetic fields intact...

Mister Fantastic did not hear Sue's steps. Which meant she was barefoot. Yet out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fake tattoos she wore. Words that hovered in the air. WHORE. SLUT. They limned the woman's form, suggested the sway of hips, the long, lean limbs. Yet that was not all he saw.

Small gold ornaments hovered in the air. Cinched tight around invisible flesh, dangling, hypnotic, bouncing as the breasts they were attached to moved. His hand ceased its calculations of advanced physics equations, his mind and body turned toward this new, more enticing issue before him.

Invisible hands moved the chair he sat in so that the comforting, familiar weight of his wife could settle in his lap. Those dangling golden ornaments drew closer into view, and now Reed could smell Sue, that fragrant musk that was just hers: the odor of shampoo, deodorant, sweat, all mixed and mingled together into a heady fragrance that was part of his memory of her.

Slowly, achingly, Sue faded into view. Just a little at a time, an **** demonstration of control, her body translucent enough that he could see the outline of her naked form and features while still able to see through her. A little more, Reed knew, and he could see the almost-invisible blood flow through veins like crystalline glass, the tiny electrical impulses firing like sparks in a brain held within a translucent skull.

"These are new," he said, as his erection slithered out of his pants, the hardened flesh growing up to curl, snake-like, around her waist. A warm chain that drew her towards him, even as the swollen, bulbous head slid back down to rub against a clit more clear and perfect than the greatest diamond.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

"They make you look like a slut," he said, honestly. And they both moaned as his cockhead plunged into that semi-visible cleft.

"And you love it," she gasped. "You love your slut. And the sluttier I am, the more you love me..."

Reed didn't answer with words. His head bent forward on a supple neck, his tongue exploring the stiff nipple the fake piercing was wrapped around as Sue began to move, riding him, each moan and shiver sending her fake piercings to dance. Combined with the tattoos, he could imagine himself taking some street whore in a filthy alley.

Except that whore was his wife. His prim and proper wife who had always been so perfect, but with him...

"Ah!" Sue said as a sudden wet warmth announced her husband erupting inside of her.

Only they were just getting started.