You get yet another notification

Sophie: "Sorry about that. Maybe w-"

*Ding*

In practical shock, you turn your head towards the small waist-pouch in which you carry it during missions. With wide, angry eyes, you stare down upon it, as if asking 'Really? I mean REALLY!?' Super Guy seems equally stupefied - he knows you mentioned how unforgiving the scheduling can be in this business, but he didn't have anything like this in mind.

Super Guy: "Are you gonna-?"

Sophie: "Sorry. I really have to. This is a pretty damn big emergency."

Whatever **** decided to grant you superpowers seemed nonplussed by the idea of giving them to such a wild and unpredictable personality such as yourself. Nevertheless, you're nothing in comparison to some of the others. As your notification stated, some crazed terrorist super has just threatened to hurl the Moon into Earth unless his demands are met.

The military aids you in locating the fiend through several spy satellites, giving you a chance to apprehend him on-way towards the Earth's upper atmosphere. The guy is much stronger than you physically, but critically slower and lacking in any auxiliary powers, letting you take him down without much issue in twenty minutes or so.

However, the whole ordeal has left you stressed, and maybe even slightly drained. And what about Super Guy? He has to be sweating bullets through his foreskin by now. You can almost feel the relentless sexual tension between the two of you even from thousands of miles away.

This time, your front door in fact does go off its hinges as you barge in, heaving with anticipation, anger and annoyance. Your frizzled hair breaks the otherwise perfect silhouette between the contrast of broad daylight and the moodily lit room.

Super Guy is still on the sofa, his expression pure agony as he tries to keep himself off the edge. This is made horridly difficult due to constantly thinking about your body, bursting with god-like power and imbedded with all the best features of a world-class athlete and a supermodel. Your presence is almost enough to push him off the edge.

Super Guy: "Sophie... P-please, y-you can't leave me again."

Seeing his pitiful state, you instantly retrieve your phone and crush it to dust with a single hand.

Sophie: "No more interruptions, baby."

You advance on Super Guy, tearing at his bulging spandex, sopping wet with precum. Your hands are shaking from excitement, though that's barely noticeable compared to the alleged tough guy muscle man shivering from pleasure underneath this lovebound ****.

As you b-

*DING*

Super Guy's phone has a notification.

The built-up frustration begins to spill over. In both of you, at that. Your skintight hyper-designed fabric stats to rapidly evaporate from being in contact with your muscles, hotter than lava. Super Guy's spandex bursts and tears by itself, as the gargantuan pre-orgasm contractions in his body ravages the supposedly super-elastic suit like a herd of oxes coming at a paper wall.

His twitching cock bobs up and down involuntarily with a **** to pry up a continent. Despite this, you manage to steady it with a single hand, and administer a hypersonic handjob. Your other hand is busy ruffling through his hair, while your mouth slobbers on Super Guy's face to silence his pleasure-driven wimpering interspersed with needy moans. He's having a tough time even keeping up, but manages to expend a single arm to finger your vag in reciporation.

The immense amounts of friction from your lovemaking cause your walls to catch fire and then melt. The electricity in your brains has enough voltage to arc from your heads as lightning bolts into the surrounding room. A ball of sexual energy not unlike a supernova begins to form around the two of you, as the ground begins to rumble. Hot lava rises from dozens of miles deep, forming a thousand-foot tall volcano underneath the house, upending much of the neighbourhood.

You switch the handjob over to full-on penetration.

Now only a second or two away from him cumming, the two of you have to continually up your super speed to prolong the experience. Both of you are quickly running out of superpowers to keep up.

There's no more running away, no more backing down and no more time. You can feel the over-edged cum approaching through Super Guy's glans.

What follows is a series of extremely violent natural disasters. First of all, surges of gargantuan lightning bolts rock the epicenter of the destruction. A sudden record-breaking heatwave hits the entire city. Finally, the volcano on which your house rests explodes with white-hot lava, splattering the entire county and spewing ashes on the skies of half the continental states.

All this is but a light preamble to Super Guy blowing his load. The shockwave alone from his ejaculation causes a ripple-like effect that speeds across the Earth's mantle, destroying everything in its wake. The pressure and speed of fluids is enough to pull the atmosphere and much of the remaining sediment into outer space at the speed of light. Last and not least, the heat is enough to melt the Moon, and vaporize almost all of the Earth.

This, despite you being on the receiving end of his cumshot, greatly dampening the effects.

You and Super Guy float aimlessly in space, your minds rend asunder by the unknown upper echeleons of sexual gratification. Slowly, very slowly, as your superhuman brains start to gather themselves and resume, you come to the realization of just what happened.

Guess you weren't the right people to protect the Earth. But sure enough, you were right for each others. Now you can enjoy one another without any interruptions.

You hug Super Guy tightly and ready yourselves for round two out of who-knows-how-many.

ENDING 42 -The Edge of Space-