Sue Tries Sucking Off Her Sleeping Husband

Softly, Sue Storm turned off the alarm before it could sound. Reed Richards snored softly beside her. When he was asleep, he looked younger. The strain of that immense brain that could never stop thinking was gone, the lines softened. She watched his bare chest rise and fall...and then pulled the sheet and blanket down.

It had been a shock when Sue and Reed had first married, to discover that he slept in the nude. For a brief, hot moment, Sue had thought that indicated more sexual passion than she dreamed Reed possessed, that he wanted to be available at any time. Over the years, she had learned it was simply Reed being overly logical. He almost never reached for her. Never sought the skinship of naked body against naked body.

His cock lay on his stomach. Even before they went to space, he had been her Mr. Fantastic. The tip sat in his navel. Not much of a grower, but long and skinny and when they did make love, it had always touched so deep inside of her that Sue had cried. Some mornings, she had watched it rise and swell, like a tree greeting the dawn.

So it was today.

As silently as possible, Sue moved over her sleeping husband. The long, thin cock throbbed as it rose toward the ceiling. She had lost count of the nights that she had gone to bed with this glorious thing right next to her, not inside her where it belonged.

But Dr. Stone was right, she decided. This cock was as much hers as Reed's. She was his wife. He owed her.

The tip of Sue's tongue touched Reed's cock, right where the shaft met his balls. Heat rose in her body as she slowly slid her tongue up the length of the shaft, all the way to the tip, where a tangy, salty drop collected on her tongue. In his sleep, Reed gave a little moan.

With her eyes closed, Sue closed her lips over the glans. Let her tongue wash over and around the swollen purple helmet, tasting the precum that leaked from his little slit. Her body trembled with long-denied need. She wanted this. Wanted everything he had. To feel it on her tongue, slide down her throat. The pulse, the warmth, the hardness.

Invisible hands grabbed Sue Storm's legs. She levered herself up, rotated, golden hair hanging down, but her mouth and throat became a single warm tunnel...and she lowered herself down, so that long, glorious prick filled her throat, until her nostrils were buried in her husband's balls.