Dungeons and Dicks Ch. 04

The Whisp set out on her task slowly, stroking softly at the matching enormous balls, and leaning in to lick her way up his extent in tiny, criss-crossing, swift strokes of her tongue. Malleable Man shifted on his feet, succumbing to the tease.

His head, thank goodness, was no larger around than his girthy shaft, and when she reached it, she took her time kissing, licking, and outright slobbering on it, leaving rivulets of her saliva dripping down all around his cock. She lifted her hand from his sack and began to run it up and down him, the caress lubricated by her hungry drool. Malleable Man shivered as she stroked him.

When he was completely soaked, The Whisp parted her lips and let him slide between them. He moaned happily. She began to bob slowly, gently up and down, letting two or three inches of him slide in and out of her mouth as she went. Her pace of pumping him with her hand increased and she bent further, sliding fully half of his massive cock into her mouth. He gasped.

I felt Penny lean forward over the table and lightly punch me on the shoulder. "She's amazing," she whispered. "I can never take nearly that much." An odd congratulations, but I took it.

I also exchanged sideways glances with Craig and Mark. The show had yet to begin. None of us knew how it would end, but we knew it was on.

The Whisp completely withdrew Malleable Man's elongated cock from her mouth and resumed licking and kissing it while her hand pumped steadily, even entreatingly. It was not long before Martin began to show the signs of that old, delectable discomfort. He was close.

And that is what Tess had been waiting for.

The Whisp opened her mouth wide, and slid it down and over that cock once more. She bobbed slowly deeper, choking lightly but once as she went. Then she seemed to reach a point of inflection, and suddenly the rest of him slid smoothly between her lips until her nose pressed gently against Malleable Man's nest of pubes. She undulated there, her supple red lips clamped around the very root of his meat.

I simply stuck out my hands to either side, palms up. Hilariously, it was Anne and Geri, not Craig and Mark, who slapped them in congratulations.

Martin and Penny both simultaneously exclaimed, "What the fuck?" Well, Martin groaned it almost incoherently.

If Tess's lips could have curled in a smile, they would have, but that was not currently an option. I could see her throat working around Malleable Man's dick. She bobbed twice more, then slid him all free to gasp for air. Then, after but a moment, he was back in her mouth and she was sliding him deep once more.

It was much too much for the hapless stretchy superhero, and with a roar of warning, he helplessly came, his hips twitching forward, fucking The Whisp's mouth and sliding the rest of the way into her throat involuntarily. She took it all with aplomb. She grabbed his ass and held him in her, struggling but succeeding to swallow. They held there, frozen as he gasped through an extended orgasm, and then she leaned back and pushed him away, gasping for breath.

His cock dangled, already softening, spit and jizz dripping from its tip. Her eyes glistened with tears of effort, and her drooling mouth curled upward in triumph.

"God. Damn," said Penny softly. Everyone else was silent in appreciation.

"I desperately need a beer," I said at last, breaking the tableau.

The Whisp rose and kissed Malleable Man, pressing her naked form against him briefly. She might have swallowed most of his powerful offering, but from his reaction, she still had enough her mouth to make sure, as was her method, that he tasted himself in that kiss.

The plentiful hand towels that were now de rigueur for our group were grabbed and Tess wiped her face before picking up her suit and sliding into it. She left the jacket open for a while as she went and grabbed a beer for me and a glass of wine for herself, only buttoning it up after sitting back near me and enjoying a long sip of her drink. The showoff. She is so fucking awesome.

Food was in order, and we all fell on the stuff we had brought with gusto. My second beer disappeared in a heartbeat. I grabbed a plain seltzer next. We still had an hour or so to go, but I wanted to drive home. Tess's and my post-gaming sex was going to be even more epic than usual.

Our next battle took place downtown, against a giant monkey escaped out of a local genetics lab whose stockholder's should probably not expect a dividend any time soon. The highlight of the battle had been when the damned monkey had broken the giant, beautiful bronze statue of a sailing ship that stood before City Hall.

Snapping off at its base, the hundreds of tons of bronze had toppled, nearly killing the obligatory kindergarten class that was nearby. They would have been doomed, were it not for the power and resilience of Jarhead™, who took the falling blow on his own nearly indestructible body. It had nearly killed him.

The Whisp, not even naked at the moment, slipped in and tripped the monkey. When it fell, Korda, Malleable Man, and a very angry Martienne (there had been a uniform tearing incident due to the monkey) beat it senseless for a final defeat.

The Flare and The Maker contrived to not only lift the ship back upright, with Jarhead's help, but they welded it securely back into position. The Maker even added a rotational mechanism as he guided The Flare's welding efforts, and the statue now rotated serenely at a steady.7 RPM.

That was a nice touch, Mark.

"As the dust settles, a huge black Rolls Royce limousine pulls up to the scene," Penny announced. "A very posh and stiff-looking chauffeur steps out and approaches The Maker and The Flare. 'Gentlemen,' he says, 'my employer, Mrs. VanWelk asks that you meet with her in her office at Harcourt Mansion. I am to provide transportation. Will you step this way?' He stares at you expectantly."

"Who is Mrs. VanWelk?" Craig asked, suspiciously.

"She is the widow who inherited the VanWelk shipping fortune. Quite the philanthropist and a bit of a frequent mention in the society pages, though as a hostess and benefactor, not because of her own social life, unfortunately for her," Penny informed them.

Craig and Mark looked at each other. And grinned. Getting separated from the group was usually a precursor to one or another of the seperatees being asked to take Center Stage... Both guys instinctively stood.

"You pull up at the huge pile that is Harcourt Mansion, in the heart of the wealthy district of the city. The old money part. Grambling the chauffeur shows you inside and opens the door to a large office, well-appointed in magnificent antiques. He closes the door behind you. The desk is gigantic and sturdy, but the computers on it are neither large, nor antique. They look to The Maker's eye to be custom jobs with more advanced tech than is commercially available."

"Mrs. VanWelk looks up from her work and smiles as you enter. She rises gracefully and rounds the desk to approach you. She is not the dried up old prune you figured from her reputation. In her early forties at the most, probably younger, she has a trim form that fills out her Chanel suit (certainly a couture original) appealingly," Penny giggled, walking forward toward both guys. "Her expression is welcoming but serious."

"Gentlemen," the widow VanWelk greeted them in businesslike tones. "I am so glad you could come. I observed you and your team's latest endeavor on behalf of my city with great interest and admiration."

"She says 'my city' like she owns the place," Penny added in an aside. "It's only about 37% true."

"Thank you," The Flare said. "It's always nice to be... appreciated." The Flare could not help but flirt with anything that wore, or ever had worn, a skirt. It was his central character trait.

"Of course," she replied, ignoring the overture entirely. "I asked you to come see me because I would like to make an offer of assistance to The Bulwarks."

Penny broke character again. "Guys, we have got to come up with a better name than that for your supergroup. Please?"

Don't choose your superhero team name at the end of the night after an extra beer for everyone, or you will end up with an asinine name like The Bulwarks.

"An offer of assistance to your team," the woman repeated, omitting the name. "Every truly proper superteam needs a headquarters to meet, refit, monitor the city, and in some cases live, correct? I am prepared to offer you the use of Harcourt Mansion as that headquarters."

"You want us to move in with you?" The Maker asked curiously.

"Of course not," she replied dismissively. "I am just finishing the construction of a new, completely modern home to the south of the city. That is why the mansion is becoming available."

"That is exciting news," The Maker said, grinning doubtfully. "Um, we are a self-funded group, and I don't know that we could afford, well, rent."

"Pshaw," the widow said dismissively. "I am first and foremost a philanthropist. I, of course, desire no rent, and will support the team and its headquarters to the extent of expenses and repairs to the inevitable damage this old house will endure over future issues... I mean, years." She smiled almost cutely. Everyone laughed at the 'slip'. "To be honest, since I was a little girl, I've been a fan of superheroes and their deeds. I had twin posters of BlasterMan and BrightWing over my bed throughout my teenaged years. I find this to be a marvelous opportunity to work with and observe such a promising new team of super humans at work." She smiled brightly at them. Then she cocked her head.

"Of course," she said, her voice dropping a touch lower as she walked around them. Then she stepped behind The Maker and The Flare, her comparatively diminutive form nestling close in between them. "I would not be adverse to enjoying that observation and cooperation as up close as we can arrange..." Her hands grabbed both men's asses, cupping and squeezing them aggressively.

Craig and Mark grinned again. "Of course!" The Maker said quickly.

"Close cooperation and observation are the hallmarks of our team," The Flare agreed, letting his own hand casually reach back and down to grasp Mrs. VanWelk's tiny, pert ass. He jerked slightly when he found that The Maker's hand had beaten him to the pinch. The two of them glared just a little at each other over Mrs. VanWelk's head.

She disengaged from both of them with a light laugh as if nothing had happened. "I'd love to take you on a tour of the house. The ballroom would make an excellent meeting room. We can design a properly heroic big table for you to sit around and plot strategy. That is what super teams do, isn't it?" She stepped over toward some bottles. "Of course, I should take you on a tour of the whole house--the kitchens, the gymnasium, the bedrooms..." she trailed off, looking back at them.

Penny picked up the rosé bottle and shook it. "Shit. I really want a sip. I'll grab a bottle. Hang tight!" As she dashed toward out kitchen, she called back, "Anyone need anything?"

Only Anne replied, lifting her empty glass. "Bring the bottle!"

Both Mark and Craig watched Penny go. The old saying, 'I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,' sprang to mind.

Mark leaned over to Craig. "So, is she going to just choose, or will we have to role-play some kind of competition?"

"If we are competing, sucks to be you," Craig said in bro fashion.

Anne stifled a quiet snort of laughter. I caught Tess and Geri rolling their eyes at each other.

I was with the ladies, this was not going to go the way my buddies thought. And they were probably not going to regret it.

I looked at Martin. He looked serene, but his foot tapped gently on the floor.

"Sorry, guys, everybody," Penny announced, bustling back from the kitchen. "I got so caught up game mastering that I got behind on my drinking! Let's fix that shit," she added, brandishing both of the remaining bottles of rosé. She cracked one and poured herself barely a splash, which she didn't even drink. She was a tricky one.

Had she been eavesdropping?

"Come this way," Penny said, in Mrs. V's sophisticated voice, curling her fingers up in a 'follow me' gesture. "You enter the ballroom," she went on, turning around by my pool table and leaning back against it. "There is a huge wooden table in the center. 'Of course this is hardly the splendid table I have in mind for you all in the long run, but it is quite sturdy for the interim. I imagine that Martienne could pick it up and do some real damage with it to a foe, without even breaking it,' she adds merrily."

Mrs. V braced her hands and hopped up to sit on the edge of the table, right over the middle pocket on the side facing the group. "Anyone want to help me test its structural integrity?" she asked in a mixture of society grace and open invitation.

The Maker and The Flame shot glances at each other. The Flare spoke first, "Of course! Such an exciting offer as you have made to the team deserves quite the thanks. I'd love to indulge your..."

"I have a more direct and scientific plan to comprehensively test the structural integrity of the table," interrupted The Maker. "I'd be excited to run those tests with..."

The two of them started to talk over each other, both having a good time, and flailing about in earnest attempt to top each other's lame-o comic-booky pitches. The funniest part was that since they both had been playing too much D&D for several years now, their arguments kept getting peppered with the occasional 'forsooth', or 'my lady'.

Penny was eating it up, grinning at both of them. I did suppose that it is nice to be wanted...

But she didn't let them flail for long, just long enough to give the rest of us a chance to smile at the antics.

Mrs. VanWelk smiled and held up a hand. "Heroes, please. I hate to see you argue. I may not look like much, but I assure you, there is more than enough of me to go around. Surely you don't mind sharing?" As she said this, she tugged the stretchy black top she wore over her head and tossed it aside. Her beautiful, braless breasts bounced attractively free. As I have said, they are the only thing about Penny that isn't tiny. They aren't big, either, but they sure look that way on her petite frame. Like Martin, she clearly tans in the altogether, leaving her mams golden, bronze, and delicious. Her nipples tilt upward with the natural slope of those tits, and are just slightly off center on her pinkish aureoles. Not only were her nipples as hard as I had seen them yet, but she was covered in goosebumps all over her flesh, but especially in an irregular ring surrounding each engorged button. She was very into this little scenario she had cooked up for herself.

I had told her to make sure to do that...

The gorgeous philanthropist stretched her arms out wide in invitation to both men, sticking her chest out as she did so.

Both guys hesitated. They knew what she was asking for, but this would be a new wrinkle, and...

They shared a glance, then both stepped forward, each to one side, and leaned forward, each kissing a nipple. Kisses that rapid escalated to hungry suckling. On her petite frame, their heads were clearly uncomfortably close together, and it was amusing to see them try to figure out how to get their hands on Mrs. VanWelk without getting them on each other.

She wrapped her outstretched arms around their shoulders and caressed them each as they nursed. "Oh, that is very nice gentlemen," she sighed in her fruity, upper-class accent, then fell silent for a bit as they worked to pleasure her. Her hands rolled across their shoulders, and into their hair, pressing both heads against her chest.

Then she finally straightened and shrugged her nipples free of their protesting lips. Her hands now slid down their stomachs to palm the bulges in their pants. "My, are these both for me?" Mrs. VanWelk exclaimed, as if surprised. "Why, thank you!"

Penny hopped off my pool table. Not just Craig and Mark, but all of us watched as Mrs. VanWelk slipped the elastic waistband of her form-fitting pants downward and stepped free of them, leaving her fully naked. Her steps took her further from the table, weaving her way between and around The Maker and The Flame. Her hands caressed them as she moved wordlessly, and they each tentatively brushed her curves in turn as she came and went from their reach.

Penny was making quite the production of this, and I for one was loving it. I shot a glance at Martin, and I caught the familiar look we guys tended to have when our wives were LARPing; excitement, hunger, pride, and just a touch of insecurity

At first, the two superheroes brushed their fingers only across her breasts, her chin, and her waist, but as Mrs. V kept moving between them, The Flare let his hand slide from her waist downward to cup and squeeze her tight, tiny, but perfectly shaped ass before she slipped out of his reach. As she moved between the two men, The Maker's hand ran down her belly and caressed the patch of intricately trimmed pubes they encountered. She kept prowling, into and then out of reach of the Flare once more, but turning to keep facing the Maker as she orbited around him. His hand slipped down further and between her legs. We all could see her shiver slightly, but she kept moving, back toward the Flare. As the inventor's fingers slid free of her body, the fire-logoed man's hands grasped her ass once more, sliding swiftly down between her legs as well.

Unable to contain himself, The Flare pulled Mrs. VanWelk's lithe form hard against him, fingers now burying themselves under her. She melted into his arms, and pulled his head down to her for a kiss. Tongues lashed one another audibly.

The Maker bowed his head and stepped back, acknowledging the win with a somewhat frustrated grin.

But the little woman spun around gracefully, pulling her lips free of the kiss, and The Flare's hand free from her crotch. She leaned her naked body backward against him and pulled his hands up to her breasts, but then she pointed at The Maker. "You," she said, a note of authority befitting a billionaire in her voice. "I'm going to need you up on my desk," she said.

That caught both guys by surprise, but when they both froze, Mrs. V gestured again, imperiously.

With a puzzled grin, Mark took two steps and demonstrated his goddamned infuriating athletic agility by smoothly vaulting up onto my pool table, managing to land gently on the surface. Graceful as the maneuver was, I still winced. He better not tear my felt, I though grimly.

Mrs. V flowed out of The Flare's embrace and leaned over the edge of the table. With a grin, she reached out and tugged at the fly of The Maker's tight leather pants--pants that were much tighter than normal at the moment. In a flash, his fly was open, and his long, hard cock was waving in the air before her eyes.

"From the moment I first discovered blowjobs," Mrs. V sighed, "I've wanted to suck a superhero's cock..." One hand braced her on the table's surface, the other came up and massaged the penis before her. Her tongue extended, lashed across the tip, then she gobbled it into her mouth, bobbing swiftly from the start. The Maker's head rolled back with a groan of happiness, and he ran his fingers through her elegant coif.

She had pushed herself up on tiptoe with her left leg, while her right knee was lifted up and braced on the edge of the desk. This left her taut little ass thrust out toward The Flare and the rest of us. Her pussy was laid out in our view, glistening with moisture and beginning to flower open on its own.

Craig seemed unsure what to do... wait his turn, or sit back down since Penny had made her choice? This left him standing there in front of us, staring on in equal fascination.