The Black Cat: Light Sleeper

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

"You like that, baby? You like that?" Her whispers were urgent. I indicated my agreement as much as I could, in that position.

Finally she let me come up for air. Somehow, still on the couch, she rose to her feet, her costume still wrapping her arms and legs, but gloriously disheveled on her front, leaving her exposed from neck to midriff. She looked down on me and licked her lips. "Tell me, baby: costume on or costume off?"

"On," I breathed.

She smiled her wicked smile again. "No one ever says 'off.'"

She stepped backwards onto the floor and sank into a crouch before me. She raised her right hand just so and made a quick gesture at my crotch, then another, then another. She flicked her wrists and the tiny claws in her gloves retracted, leaving my pajamas neatly incised and my cock exposed. She hissed again and practically dove forward.

I'm sure it goes without saying, but she was a fantastic cocksucker. Some girls go slow and gentle and delicate, and there's nothing wrong with that, but that wasn't her style. She was fast and sloppy, bobbing up and down on my cock with furious intensity. Her mouth was warm and very wet, and her saliva and my pre-cum flew in droplets as she sucked and sucked. Her lips smacked and she moaned with pleasure as she worked, her cheeks dimpling from the effort.

I lay back and tried to take it all in. That girl on her knees before me, groaning and bobbing and sucking, was the Black Cat. Her silver hair floated around her head in wisps, and her gigantic breasts heaved. I was getting an amazing blowjob from a superhero celebrity, a girl with beauty, a killer body, and international notoriety. And she was into it, too: I had a quickie with a Vogue cover model once, and it was boring: she didn't really know what she was doing, but she acted like she was God's gift to the male sex. The Cat wasn't like that. She went down on me with skill and with gusto. And this from a woman I never would have thought was in my league: it was like having Jenna Jameson or Jennifer Love Hewitt or Jen Walters suck you off, or all three of them at once.

I couldn't hold out against that onslaught for long. Shuddering with the effort of resisting orgasm, I managed "I'm coming..." and she groaned with pleasure again. As I began to spurt, she took hold of my shaft with her right hand—the first time she'd used her hands in the whole exercise—and pulled upwards in short strokes, milking me like a cow. She wrapped her mouth around my spitting head and swallowed as fast as she could, draining me.

I settled back, relaxed, and let her finish lapping up my cream. And in a minute I was done. But to my surprise, she wasn't: even though I was limp, she kept my member in her mouth, sucking on it, tickling it with her tongue. She began to explore my body with her hands, as best as she could from that position: her fingers caressed my thighs, my sides, my nipples. She reached out and took my hands into hers: with firm insistence, she pulled me forward and placed my hands on her tits. I fondled her chest and she made little cooing noises and kept licking and sucking. She knew what she was doing: within ten minutes my cock was perking up to life again. I'd never had a multiple orgasm in my life, but it seemed tonight was my night.

Finally, satisfied with her work, she raised her head and smiled at me. "Now," she purred, "we can fuck all night."

"You're amazing," I murmured.

"Damn straight."

She rose and beckoned. "Come on, stud," she breathed. "Take me to bed."

I managed to rise. I collected our almost-untouched drinks from the table, and almost dropped them; when I turned my back on her she pinched my ass. I chuckled and walked back to my bedroom, the Cat padding behind me. When I reached the bed I turned to find her surveying the room with a critical eye. "Very nice," she whispered, and began doffing her costume. She turned around before bending over to pull it off of her legs, which allowed her to rub her asscheeks against my cock, which hardened more in appreciation. As she stepped out of her costume I offered her her glass. Rather than take it she took hold of my glass, which I held in my other hand, and held it to her lips. This move was unexpected and difficult: to keep from spilling I had to draw in close to her, our bodies only inches apart.

We drank. "How French," I murmured.

"I like French," she purred. "I like Russian and Greek, too."

"I bet," I managed, weakly. If the surprise blowjob hadn't taught me she was aggressive, that line would have.

She gave me a firm push and I fell backwards onto the bed. I stared up at her, impossibly beautiful, impossibly voluptuous. "Why me?" I asked.

She understood the question. "I told you: Spider-Man and I used to be an item."

"I remember."

"But it didn't work out. That's one reason I'm here in London."

She took a deep breath and looked off into space. For once she wasn't trying to be seductive, but I appreciated how her chest pushed forward all the same. "And what I've found is, there's a certain... thrill... in having a lover who only knows the costume. After—" She hesitated only a moment on the name—"Spider-Man, the men I've dated in my private life haven't given me the same excitement."

She looked down again. "What it boils down to is, when I fuck as the Black Cat, the experience is more intense. It's better." Her gaze and voice was a challenge.

I nodded. "But you don't meet too many eligible guys—"

"Or girls."

"—or girls, when you're in costume. Because if everything goes right, no one knows that you're there."

"Uh huh. So when a classy, handsome guy like you does catch me, but lets me go... well, that's a turn-on, I must admit."

"You're making me blush."

"You like the compliment? Pay me back."

She dove onto the bed, which was still mussed up from when I'd been sleeping in it earlier, and kicked the covers aside. She bunched up the pillows and lay her head back on them. While she got comfortable, I removed my pajamas, so we were both naked, except for her mask. That I never saw her remove. Then I crawled to her and began kissing those stupendous breasts, rolling the nipples under my teeth, and worked my way down her taut, pale belly to her snatch. Her pussy was totally shaved (of course) and her labia was wet and pink in the dim light of my bedside lamp. She spread her legs invitingly, and I down I went.

I lapped at her lips until she was good and wet and then began sucking on her clit and tickling it with my tongue. It didn't take me long to find a rhythm and I settled in for a sustained performance. She was a vocal creature, and began sighing almost immediately, but before long she was moaning, then groaning. I don't know how long I went at her—obviously I wasn't watching the clock—but it didn't seem very long before she began clenching her thighs and screaming with joy, her pussy juices flowing like water as she reached orgasm.

Now she was relaxed, but I was ready to go again, my cock having been roused to firmness by the erotic soundtrack she'd produced as I licked and sucked her. So I struggled up and crawled forward, running my stiff member along her leg. She got the message.

"Mmm. Where do you want to put it, lover?"

"Ride me. That's what I want."

"You're the boss."

She relinquished the pillows to me and I lay down, eager to relax a bit after my exertions. Following my directions she pulled out the lube I kept in the drawer of the bedside table and began greasing me up, with a healthy dollop to her own pussy for good measure. She wasn't into half measures: as soon as she was done, she melted into my arms, kissing me fiercely, her hair falling down around me in a silver wave, and pressing her crotch against my cock, bucking against me in quick strokes.

I kissed her back, and sucked on her tits, and fondled her ass, and she teased my cock by pressing against it until I couldn't bear it any more. I pulled my hands back and gripped down on her thighs, and without a word she positioned herself just so and I slipped into her. We both moaned in pleasure: her pussy was nice and tight, a warm, wet piece of heaven. I set my hips and pushed up, and she rode me with abandon, pressing endlessly down on me.

Her prediction came pretty close to true. We didn't fuck all night, but thanks to the blowjob apéritif she'd provided, we did go at it for a long time, easily the longest lovemaking session I've ever had. She was as wild and inventive as she was beautiful and voluptuous, and she seemed to be tireless as well. We started out with her riding me like a cowgirl, but we tried all sorts of other positions: missionary, doggie, reverse cowgirl, and others I don't have the vocabulary to describe. Whenever I got too close to coming, I pulled out, and I kissed her, or fondled her tits, or massaged her feet, or rubbed her back and her ass until I had myself under control. She was warm, and friendly, and patient, and even more avid than I was: I didn't actually take her in the ass, but not because she didn't encourage me to. And when I finally reached my limit and had to come, she commanded me to pull out and finish between her enormous breasts, which she obligingly squeezed tight around my cock and rubbed against me until I burst.

When I was finished I lapsed into a post-coital haze. Without concern for the semen splattered all across her chest, she knelt over me and licked and sucked my member until it was clean, while I idly stroked her ass. I vaguely remember that she said something about going for a shower; I don't think I even managed to gesture toward the bathroom before falling asleep.

Next morning, she was gone. So was the Vermeer, which she had expertly prised from the wall while I slept. And not just the Vermeer, but also the other choice pieces from my collection. And, for good measure, the bottle of Scotch from which we'd been drinking: I suppose she liked the brand. Normally, of course, I'm a light sleeper, and would have heard her abscond with these things, but she had hit upon a novel way to make sure my slumber was deep enough she could work uninterrupted.

I stood in the light of the noonday sun and stared at the place where my artworks had been, puzzled with myself. Because, of course, I should have been angry: I'd been manipulated, used, taken advantage of. But even so I didn't feel angry, and couldn't even muster up that feeling with effort. Instead I felt something more akin to gratitude.

Money comes and money goes. That I know from experience. But what doesn't come very often is an encounter like the one she'd given me: a night with a girl who was gorgeous enough to be a model, voluptuous enough to be a porn star, athletic enough to be tireless, who enjoyed sex, and who was, even if for her own reasons, determined to be as sexually generous as possible. That's what the Black Cat gave me, in return for my paintings.

Seems to me I got the better of the deal.

12
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
7 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
awesome

story bro, really made my day

farechildefarechildealmost 16 years ago
At first I was pessimistic,

but I was won over the more I read. Aside from some clumsy metephors and some lackluster adjectives I really enjoyed this story.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
*Applause*

This is easily one of the best stories I've ever read, erotic or not. Like an earlier commenter said, it was very realistic, and the characters were portrayed excellently. Really liked your other stories, too.

:)

Encore!

LordmikelLordmikelover 16 years ago
Love your Work

"Realistic" would seem a strange word to use, but that is how I see your stories. They aren't the humiliation stories so many other people write. But you keep the characters true to form, and that is what makes it so good.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 17 years ago
One sexy kitty

Oh man! Black Cat has always been one of the sexiest characters in the Marvel U, and this was by far one of the hottest stories I've ever read. Keep up the good work....maybe Emma Frost next? or maybe touch on the Avengers?

Show More
Share this Story

Similar Stories

Committed Spider-Man Ch. 01 The Black Cat surprises Spider-Man with her natural gifts.in Celebrities & Fan Fiction
Beauty and the Geek Ch. 01 The rumors were true; the geek was hung.in Erotic Couplings
A Blizzard & the Night of Firsts A storm forces a virgin to find warmth with 3 women.in First Time
Two or Three? Robin "takes on" Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy.in Celebrities & Fan Fiction
Bosom Buddies Ch. 01 A nerd befriends the 5 hottest girls in school.in First Time
More Stories