Sue Storm Fantasizes About Many Men In Her Life

Dinner was fish tacos. Reed Richards gave an impromptu lecture on the physics of shrimp. Ben Grimm and Johnny Storm split the sirarcha and rolled their eyes. No one tried to conquer Manhattan, so everyone got to bed on time. Sue Storm kissed Reed as he headed to the lab; dinner had given him some ideas about using salt crystals to detect Negative Zone radiation.

Which left the Invisible Woman alone to undress, to show, to slide into an oversized Fantastic Four t-shirt, enjoying the freedom from bra and panties as she turned down the covers in preparation for bed.

To think about what she had talked about with Dr. Stone.

In truth, there were a number of attractive men in Sue Storm's life. She would have been blind not to notice the human perfection that was Captain America, the witty charm of Spider-Man, the regal bearing and dignity of the Black Panther, the rugged animal allure of Wolverine, the godly impossible physiques of Thor and Hercules and Namor...

She closed her eyes and tried to think back to times she had seen their chests bared. Her thighs were pressed tight together as she lay on the bed, hands resting on them as she recalled that vacation in Wakanda where she had caught T'Challa bathing in the sacred pool, his chiseled physique the lean perfection not of the model or bodybuilder but of the fighter. When the Hulk had that "wardrobe malfunction" while fighting Ben, the purple trunks tearing to reveal a truly unstoppable emerald monster, bigger limp than most men were hard. That alternate reality where nudism was common, and Doctor Doom wore only a mask, his scarred body a map of pain and danger.

Her hands rubbed up and down her thighs as a warmth began to build inside of her. Sue's stomach fluttered, a little nervous. She had done this so many times, to get a little relief, but this was the first time she was thinking of someone other than her husband—and there was a strange energy in that, an excitement, a taboo thought.

Sue's hands grew closer to her inner thighs as she began to breathe more deeply. Spider-Man's tight little butt was always there, his costume clinging to his slim, well-muscled form. If she was younger and single—Sue bit her lip, her imagination not wanting to go any further. Except she pushed it further. Tried to imagine what it would be like to peel off those tight tights, to see his stiff, cute little dick pop free. The heat built between her legs and her fingers squeezed her labia together as a little, soft sound broke from deep in her throat.

Nightcrawler. If those three-fingers hands grabbed her breasts from behind. To feel his cock rub against the crack of her ass, his soft, blue, furry tail wrap itself around her thigh, the spade-like tip brushing her clit.

The Invisible Woman gasped as the pads on the fingers of her left hand touched her clit, already stiff, sensitive. She spread her legs wider, let the fingers of her right hand slip inside her labia. Rubbing. Pushing. The image of Wolverine sliding a hairy cock inside of her with one bestial lunge, smelling of cigars and beer and some kind of ultra-masculine musk, the barely-contained **** in his small, unnaturally heavy body sending a shiver of imminent **** into every thrust.

Sue Storm gasped as the pleasure built and built, the shame receding back further and further in her mind as her fingers worked, faster and with more strenuous motions. The excitement like nothing she had felt in recent memory, her hands working as her erotic imagination was given free rein.

Unable to stop until she let out a scream of pure pleasure.