Sue Storm Wants Reed To Treat Her Like A Slut

It was her babydoll see-through nightie. The one that Sue Storm normally only wore for their anniversary. The one that didn't quite cover her cooch...which had been freshly shaved for the occasion. Sue had taken great care this evening. Styled her hair. Put on makeup. A touch of perfume—the slightly citrus-y one that reminded her of a blooming grove of orange trees in Florida. She even painted her nails that faint shade of blue he liked.

At the bar in the living room, she mixed him his favorite cocktail - the Atomic - in a martini glass.

When she glided into the room, no man should have been able to resist her eager invitation.

No man, of course, except Reed Richards.

"I'm sorry darling," Reed said, not glancing up from his microscope. "But if these anti-neutrino readings are correct, someone is synthesizing vibranium in the Pacific Northwest, and that could be a major disaster!"

The casual dismissal stung. Here Sue was, trying to be the perfect slutwife, and her beloved husband wouldn't even look at her.

Then again, he did work hard. So hard. She rubbed her knees together.

Her free hand massaged his shoulder.

"I've brought you a drink, dear. Is there anything else I can do for you? A massage? Rub your feet? Suck your cock until you empty that hot, sticky load down my throat?"

The dirty talk sent a shiver of excitement down Sue Storm's spine. She had only ever dreamed of saying lines like that out loud. So much more exciting than the normal, boring, unsexy married life they'd shared. She craved excitement. To be his prim, proper fucktoy.

Reed waved at the table.

"You can set it down over there, darling. I'll be to bed in a few hours, hopefully."

Sue left in a huff.

She was beginning to hate her husband.

The next few days were an exercise in frustration. The Invisible Woman's costumes grew bolder. Miniskirts. Cutouts to show her cleavage. Her overtures to Reed grew more frequent and explicit as well. Her offers for a "nooner" were brushed aside, as Reed had to take the children on a field trip. Her attempt to wake him up with a blowjob ended with an alarm going off and a sudden stabbing pain in her left eye that had, fortunately, not resulted in major injury. When Sue slipped into the shower to scrub his back, he had excused himself to take a videophone call from Hank Pym, who had a lead on the vibranium synthesizer.

"Is it just me?" Sue Storm asked as she stared at the mirror. The blue eyepatch looked rakish. "Am I just not sexy enough?"

She squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest to admire her breasts, still full and enticing, the large dark nipples eminently suckable, despite two pregnancies.

No. It was her husband who was to blame. And if he didn't appreciate her...

She dared not finish that thought. At least, not without consulting with Dr. Stone.