Sexually Exhausting

Every night, it came over Susan Storm. Alone in her bed. At first, she had greeted it with excitement. The sense of anticipation. The sensual heat that filled her body, like when she was a blushing bride. She had missed the ease with which she used to get wet and ready. The sense of discovery, learning more about herself, exploring new sensations.

All the things she had missed the last few years, as Reed Richards neglected her more and more.

The blonde would lay there, in her comfiest t-shirt and one hand stuffed down her panties. Legs spread as she watched the sensual erotic videos. Nothing tawdry, nothing nasty. Not at the beginning, anyway. Her fingers would rub her little clit as her eyes fixed on those heaving breasts on the screen—and there was something about those breasts, boobs, juggs, tits that reminded her of another pair. Soft, full, with proud pink nipples that stood out and begged to be sucked, pinched, twisted, tasted.

That first night, when Sue Storm's back had arched and her eyes had rolled up in the back of her head, her whole body tensed and toes curled into the duvet, she had thought of Dr. Stone—and collapsed in a pant as the pleasing afterglow washed through her body for the first time in months.

The second night, it had happened faster and lasted longer. Reed was in his lab, Sue kissed the children to bed a little earlier than normal and rushed off to chase another orgasm. She found it too—and surprised herself by continuing to go on, her super-sensitive body not satisfied with just one climax. Her hand cycled through from the sensual, romantic porn into something a little harder, a blonde beauty getting absolutely railed.

She had been a little sore the next morning, in unfamiliar places. Winced once or twice during her workout, and spent some time in the sauna to let her muscles relax. Yet that night...she had excused herself early from dinner, a lie on her lip that she didn't feel quite well. Reed had given her a worried glance, murmured something about taking her temperature, but Sue had begged her off, and...

...and it had been midnight as she screamed into a pillow, three fingers buried in her aching twat. On the screen, the grunts and screams of a gonzo fuckfest, a blonde bitch getting her ass and pussy eaten out by two golden-haired slaves. Sue collapsed onto the bed naked, soaked in sweat, her whole body feverish. Her cunny felt swollen and raw. It had taken every ounce of her energy to climb under the covers and turn off the porn before Reed wandered in, early in the morning.

She stayed in bed the next day. Reed kept the children quiet and away to let Mommy sleep. Yet the Invisible Woman shuddered in the grip of the fever that held her. An invisible dildo slid in and out of her pussy with an almost mechanical precision. Even when Reed came in with orange juice and soup, took her temperature, and gave her pills to help break the fever. Unable to hear the slick-slick-slick as the invisible cock plowed her very visible cunt, hidden as it was by the blankets.

In the dreams, Sue Storm was voyeur in nameless debaucheries. Erotic dreams, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The plots and scenes of various adult films mixed and mingled with memories of her appointments. She saw Dr. Stone pull up her shirt. Dr. Stone bent over her desk as a hungry tongue lashed her dripping twat. Hands that gripped a golden-haired head and lifted it up and down, to **** that dirty mouth up and down the hard, swollen cock.

The fever broke by the end of the week. Sue felt ragged, dehydrated, sore. Every muscle felt weak, even though she could now keep food down. The worst of it all was her cunt. The near-constant sexual exertion of her powers had rendered her pussy a painfully-swollen mess, the labia puffy and purple, constantly wet and ripping. Every pair of panties Sue tried on went instantly damp, unless she put a pad in them, and the little friction of that cotton against her super-heated genitals was enough to **** a small whimper from her lips.

Slowly, Sue **** herself to resume her normal duties. To get up. Fix the children's breakfast. Do her morning workout. To ignore the bone-deep weariness that still settled in her limbs, and the aching sensitivity of her crotch. Finally, on the second day of her recovery, to dress herself in civilian clothes and drag her poor pussy to her next appointment with Dr. Stone.