Some chalk…

“All we need is some chalk, an open space, and a plan. I have a plan—“

“If Puck was dangerous, and Titania can deal with him, then she must be even more dangerous,” Brenda pointed out, leaning against him to press her mountainous tits against him even more, smooshing them against his chest. “We’ll need to be careful.”

“As I’m literally the only person here to deal with Puck without getting fucked by it, I think I know what I need to do and,” he spanked her ass, not particularly gently, “you have a long way to go before ‘you and I’ are a ‘we’.”

She nodded and apologized, which Bryce didn’t hear, because she’d slid one naked leg straight up and was holding it with both hands in an almost painfully arousing display of flexibility. Then her leg came down, on the other side of his lap. The other leg followed and she twisted, so she was sitting sidesaddle on him, her back to him. Then a single sudden twist and she was facing him, legs stretched uselessly behind her, held against him and off the ground only by the arm around her waist (Bryce was grateful for his superstrength, given the angle).

Her left hand slid between her body and his, finding his half-hard cock in the sweats and stroking it gently through the fabric. The other lifted a slice of apple to his mouth as it hung open in, temporary, hopefully, slack-jawed surprise. He chewed automatically, the fruit dripping a little juice down his chin and Brenda licked it up, quick as thought, her tongue running over his lower lip and scooping the juice into his mouth, which quickly turned into a deep kiss. Bryce twisted, automatically into it, bringing his other hand around and together they made a swing under that tight, spankable, fuckable ass, his fingers mere inches from the famous cunt that had birthed him.

“I didn’t say…” Bryce began, more in fear of losing his future access to her than out of any desire for her hands to stop what they were doing.

“This is an apology, not a punishment,” Brenda whispered. “And I decide how to apologize. If you feel I’ve done it wrong, you can always punish me…later…”

His original response died as she slid his sweats down under his balls and began to stroke his cock in earnest. “Good point,” he agreed, when he could speak again.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” She asked, tentatively. He tensed and the bite of banana fell. Brenda caught it, her hand grazing the top of his cock, while the other continued its ministrations. She raised the fruit between two fingers and fed it to him, then turned her hand over, looking longingly at the spot of precum on the back of her hand, but she had no permission to eat, yet, and remembering their earlier encounter, she wiped the back of her hand on her hair.

“I’ll be careful,” Bryce conceded.

“Good. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” Her hand squeezed his rock hard cock.

“Me, or my cock?” He asked cruelly.

“I love you.” His cock jumped at those words. “I need this cock to purify me, make me a hero again.” Brenda’s unravelling was surprising and surprisingly complete, as Bryce hadn’t realized just how little action she’d gotten since his dad died, just how much she hated rapists, and how much being one confused her. He was doing everything to her she wanted to do to rapists, everything she felt they deserved and therefore everything she deserved, along with the promise of redemption, it was potent stuff.

More potent to her than the hand on his cock was to Bryce and the hand was plenty big mojo, especially with her tits pressed against his chest, her ass against his hand. He could feel wetness on the side of them as Brenda leaked out her excitement all down her thighs.

She lifted a pitted cherry and offered it to Bryce with a wink of a hooded eye, “Would you like to take my cherry?” She asked, dangling it just out of reach of his mouth, “Or would you like me to take yours?” She asked, bringing it closer to her own ruby lips.