Uncle Sam

Phantom Lady let herself into Uncle Sam's room and lowered herself onto his red, white and blue bed, although when they were together it was mostly blue as they made Earth-X X-rated.

She wished he'd been there, but she couldn't wait any longer. While one set of fingers went beneath her yellow costume, moving along her breast and pinching her nipple hard, another slid down to her moist crotch, ready to explore the Phantom zone that criminals fantasized about ending up in.

As her fingers rubbed her clitoris, ready to start a fire, she heard the others returning, but she was in her own world now, and only needed her fingers for company.

That's when the old man came in, wearing his striped trousers and blue waistcoat, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He'd once been so strong and vital and idealistic, but since the Nazis had conquered America, he'd become dark and corrupted. That's probably what drew them to each other.

"Want to watch me be a bad girl, Uncle?" she asked, her hand speeding up.

Uncle Sam didn't say a word, he just pulled down his striped trousers and grabbed his centuries-old wizened clock. Ogling her, lying there, in her torn costume, revealing tantalizing glimpses of flesh, he jerked himself off in time with her. He might have been old, but as she writhed on the bed, flaunting her hot young body, Phantom Lady knew she could rejuvenate him, just like she always did; maybe there'd even be fireworks.

She moaned as she slid a breast out of her costume and bent her head down to lick the nipple. She heard Uncle Sam groaning as his cock, now erect, started to glow.

By his rocket's red glare, the bombshell gasped in air, her back arching, as her fingers did their work and she realized she'd reached the point of no return.