There is a reason she is with him

Ethan didn’t think he’d ever stand again after the night before. His legs still trembled, his thighs sore, his balls rung dry like squeezed fruit. His sheets were crusted, twisted, reeking. His chest burned every time he took a breath.

Helen — Elastigirl — hadn’t even broken a sweat.

When she finally slid off him, stretching like some smug jungle cat, she’d scooped his cum from her glove and licked it clean, humming like she was sampling dessert. Ethan had lain on the floor in his own mess, skinny chest heaving, glasses fogged, looking like a drowned rat. She’d only laughed deep, throaty, merciless.

And now, the next morning, she was tugging at his hoodie like she owned him.

“Come on,” she said, pouting in mock boredom. “I need air. You keep me in this little nerd-box, I’ll claw the walls down.”

Ethan squinted up at her, bleary. “You can’t just… walk around looking like—like that.”

She cocked a brow, smirking. “Then dress me.”

She raided the laundry room down the hall, shameless, like she belonged there. She emerged in a borrowed black t-shirt, stretched tight across her chest so her nipples still showed through, a denim skirt clinging to her hips, and plain sneakers. Ordinary clothes, but on her? They might as well have been fetish wear. Her thick thighs rubbed audibly when she walked, her tits swung braless under cotton, and her auburn mane framed a face that could flip from maternal warmth to dirty bitch in a heartbeat.

Walking beside her, Ethan felt like a kid smuggling contraband.

They’d barely crossed the quad when he heard it:

“Ethan!”

Three classmates drifted over, each one a familiar brand of geek.

There was Trevor, lanky as a lamppost, his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallowed, a faded Star Trek shirt tucked into cargo shorts. His hair stuck out in tufts like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Next was Marcus, thick-bodied with round cheeks, thick glasses magnifying his eyes until he looked like a startled owl. His hoodie was stained, zipper broken, his backpack weighed down with god-knows-what tech junk.

Last was Dylan, with greasy, shoulder-length hair and the tragic beginnings of a beard that looked like pubes. He had a leather trench coat, in the middle of spring, sweat shining at his temples.

They launched into talk of the programming lab Ethan had skipped. Pointers, memory leaks, some assignment. Ethan nodded dumbly, but none of them were really looking at him. Their eyes kept sliding sideways, drinking in Helen.

She noticed. Of course she did.

Trevor stammered first, his voice breaking. “Uh… so, Ethan. Who’s your… um…” His gaze was glued to the swell of her tits under the shirt. “…friend?”

Helen’s lips parted. “I’m—”

“My aunt,” Ethan blurted, his voice cracking. “Visiting. From out of town.”

Helen tilted her head, sly amusement curling her mouth. Then she turned back to them with a grin sharp as a blade. “That’s right. Aunt Helen. Just visiting.”

The three exchanged looks but were too horny to care. Their stares raked shamelessly down her body, thighs straining her skirt, the faint outline of her nipples, her full lips. She let them. More than let them, she leaned into it. She tugged her auburn hair over one shoulder, arched her back so her tits pressed the cotton even tighter, let her tongue flick over her bottom lip.

Ethan’s gut sank. He knew that look.

“Ohhh,” she drawled, her voice dropping low, syrupy. “You boys are cute. Very… attentive.” Her gaze swept over them, lingering long enough that each squirmed under it. “Maybe a little too attentive.”

Trevor adjusted his shorts, his knees knocking. Marcus’s glasses fogged as he fumbled with his hoodie strings. Dylan swallowed audibly, Adam’s apple jerking.

Helen stepped closer, her hand brushing Dylan’s trench coat sleeve. “You know,” she said softly, “back where I’m from, we don’t just stare. We… play.”

Ethan’s pulse spiked. “Helen—”

She ignored him. Her eyes sparkled as she scanned the quad, then locked on the tree line. A sly smile spread. “There’s a wooded spot right over there. Private. Quiet. Perfect.” She leaned in, her breath hot, her voice dropping to a growl. “Why don’t we go have some fun?”

The three froze, stunned. Then, almost comically, they turned to each other. No words. Just a shared, dumbstruck agreement.

“Yes,” Marcus croaked, his face red as a tomato. “God, yes.”

Ethan’s chest seized. He wanted to scream, to grab her wrist, to drag her back to the dorm. But his feet stayed rooted. His cock betrayed him, stiffening against his thigh.

Helen winked at him, then strode toward the trees with the three trailing after her. Her hips swayed, her skirt riding up just enough to flash more thigh, and Ethan followed in a trance, each step a mix of dread and hunger.

The woods wrapped around them. Helen wasted no time.

She peeled her clothes off slow, taunting. The t-shirt lifted, tits bouncing free, heavy and natural, nipples a lite pink, thick areolas standing out like coins. She tossed the shirt aside. The denim skirt slid down her thighs, revealing a glorious auburn bush above thick hips.

She stood there in nothing but sneakers, hair wild, thighs strong enough to crush skulls, stomach soft but powerful, ass full and round. The three geeks gaped, slack-jawed.

Trevor actually whimpered. Marcus’s glasses slid down his nose, and Dylan whispered, “Holy fuck…” under his breath.

Helen laughed, deep and cruel. “Like what you see? Then don’t just stand there. Come closer.”

Ethan stayed frozen, cock throbbing in sick betrayal, as the three stumbled forward. Their hands shook as they reached for her. She stretched her arm like a whip, wrapping it around Trevor’s neck, dragging his face straight into her tits. Marcus’s fumbling hands went to her hips, his glasses fogging instantly. Dylan moaned as her stretched fingers curled into his hair.

Helen’s laughter rang out, low and filthy. “That’s it, boys. Show me what you’ve got. Harder. Faster. All of you. You think you can keep up with me? Prove it.”

The three young men were no match for her, their clothes were removed exposing an eagerness that made her giggle,

"Ok, boys the last one of you to cum can fuck me in the ass"

This was too much, Dylan was almost pleading and Helen bent over and took his cock in her mouth, He held her hair and pushed in letting her take every drop of him, Marcus however wanted to do it properly he grabbed Helens hips and thrust, she squealed and took him in one thrust letting him use her but again it was over too fast.

Trevor took his inhaler out and took two long blasts, "It looks like you win" Said Helen with a wink, she bent over in the grass exposing her winking brown button to him, Trevor mustered as much bravado as he could and pushing himself in, he was rewarded with a little gasp then another giggle.

Ethan spun away, heart hammering, but the sounds followed him: wet slaps, muffled groans, Helen’s voice commanding, praising, mocking.

His cock strained painfully in his jeans, jealousy and shame twisting inside him. He hated himself for being hard. He hated Helen for doing this. He hated how much he wanted to look back.

Minutes blurred into something longer. When the noise finally faded, Ethan turned.

The three geeks stumbled out of the trees, clothes askew, sweaty, red-faced, muttering dazed thanks like they’d just touched divinity.

Helen was still radiant. She dressed slow, deliberate, pulling the skirt over her ass with a snap, tugging the shirt down over tits still slick with sweat and cum, licking her lips with feline satisfaction.

Ethan’s voice cracked when it finally came. “Why?”

She glanced at him, and for once her eyes softened. Just a little. “Because I’m insatiable, Ethan. I need more than one man can give me. That’s why I ended up with Bob. Mr. Incredible. He’s the only one who could keep up.”

The truth landed heavy in Ethan’s gut. She was too much. Too much woman, too much hunger, too much everything.

His throat tightened. “Goodbye, Helen.”

Her smile wasn’t cruel this time. It was almost… kind. “Goodbye, kid.”

And then she shimmered, her body bending and dissolving into nothing but light, leaving the woods empty except for the faint trace of her perfume.

Ethan stood there alone, cock aching, chest heavy, brain reeling.

She’d been right. Fantasies weren’t built to last.

And Helen — Elastigirl, Helen, whoever she really was — had been the dirtiest, wildest, most impossible fantasy of them all.