X-Men: The Summers Drive Pt. 11

Jean looped the apron around her neck and tied it behind her waist. She wore nothing else. It covered her full breasts and her sex, naturally enough, but let her wide ass spread out below the apron strings. She couldn't wait for Scott to walk into the kitchen and see it. She knew that she was a voluptuous woman, not like tall, slender Emma, with her svelte hips, her tight ass, and then those oversized fake tits as big as her head. But men liked a fat ass. PAWG, that's what some of the newer students called her. Jean just imagined Scott walking in on her and giving her well-rounded booty the affectionate smack that a husband should give his wife. She turned on the stove, set a pan full of cooking oil on the open flame, and let it heat up as she got the eggs.

The refrigerator door was already open. Jean was startled when it suddenly shut, revealing Emma there. All Emma wore was a set of dark stockings, the rest of her bare body on full display. Jean couldn't remember if Emma had worn those to bed or if she'd decided they would be the only thing she wore that morning—some sleazy echo of what Jean was trying to do with the apron. At any rate, Emma held a popsicle, the plastic-wrapped length of frozen dessert between her bare, admittedly fantastic breasts.

"Oh, hi Jean," she said, as if somehow she hadn't managed to notice Jean hustling around the kitchen, wearing next to nothing. She closed the refrigerator door.

"Good morning." Jean rolled her eyes as she opened the refrigerator again, Emma opening up the popsicle and dropping its plastic in the waste bin. Horrible for the environment, Jean thought uncharitably, not bothering to shield her surface thoughts. She grabbed up a handful of eggs and a bag of shredded cheese.

"Breakfast for the sheik and the rest of the harem?" Emma asked. "It's amazing how domestic you can make the aftermath of a foursome. Not even any codeine, just a balanced breakfast..."

"I don't think Scott will be too bored," Jean said as she walked to the stove, swaying her hips, showing off the firm yet girthy ass that would be tempting Scott just as well as the White Queen and any of her skanky outfits. Let's see you get that implanted into your cheap slut body.

"Oh, I'd never go for butt implants. I enjoy being spanked too much."

"I suppose if you'd wanted to avoid punishment, you wouldn't have been a supervillain."

"You never can tell, Jean darling. You apparently want to have an active sex life, yet you dress up in costumes with no femininity whatsoever. Teenagers normally don't have very much of a fashion sense, but that green dress you used to wear at least let people know you have all the right parts. Now you have that red and blue thing that makes you look like you're going into space..."

Jean turned to look at Emma, who was tapping the unwrapped popsicle against her full lips, nonchalantly showing off all of her perfect body. Creamy skin, enormous breasts, surgically precise features. With Jean watching, she ran the popsicle along her mouth, dragging her tongue over it, then doing another pass with her lips pressed in nipping kisses along its length, staining her mouth with its fruity meltwater. The blue tinge it gave her lips reminded Jean of her frosty White Queen look.

"I thought you didn't like giving blowjobs," Jean said, turning back to crack the eggs into the skillet. "Could've fooled me."

Emma's lips smacked as she suckled at the popsicle, slurping up its taste with autoerotic pleasure. "I was a stripper, Jean. Of course I don't mind giving blowjobs." She gulped the popsicle into her hot little mouth, pulling her lips down its length, letting them pop off the rounded tip. "But I don't want to offer. I want Scott to take. I want him to desire my throat so bad that he'll shove himself into my mouth to get it. Dominate me. Ravish me. Need me. That's real love, blood boiling, balls on fire—not your puppy dog nonsense."

The last of the eggs hissed into the hot skillet. Jean tossed the cracked shell into the trash and wiped off a little yolk on her apron. "I think Scott will appreciate a warm breakfast more than he will watching you eat a popsicle, but that's just me. His wife."

She took hold of the skillet's padded handle, dumping a handful of shredded cheese onto the frying yolk, and slanting the skillet around to mix everything together for an even burn.

Emma hummed consideringly, pushing the popsicle all the way into the mouth, holding onto the stick with two pinched fingers as the dessert slid into her throat, before she pulled it out—bringing her mouth off the popsicle with a sultry smirk directed at Jean. "Maybe so, dear. But Scott was with me. He's only with you now because I want him fucking his way through the X-Men, sharing in all those hot bitches with me. If he were still the boring, faithful boy scout you prefer—the only one he'd be with is me."

"That's it," Jean hissed, dropping the skillet back onto the burner with a clang. "If you like punishment so much, maybe it's time you really learn your place."

Emma patted the popsicle against her cheek, giving herself a facial with its melting cream. "Do please try it, Jean. You may have the raw strength, but I have the skill. And if you want to take another walk through my memories, feel free to see all the places I let him put his cock in me. I didn't actually give him a handy at your grave, but he was definitely hard enough for it."

"Bitch!"

"Prude!"

Their fight proceeded into the psychic realm, astral forms locked in combat as their physical bodies held perfectly still.

Slut!

Damn straight!

The popsicle melted down Emma's hand. The eggs crisped and went black in the skillet.

"Whore," Jean whispered through barely moving lips.

"Scott's whore," Emma retorted, though it was more like she thought it, her lips parted in frozen numbness.

That was when Scott entered. With one single sweep of his ruby quartz visor, he took the room in. Emma's melted popsicle was dripping into a puddle on the ground. The burnt eggs in the skillet were issuing gray smoke.

He spared a moment to take in the sight of Emma and Jean's semi-naked bodies. Emma with her subtle tan, her golden hair, her black stockings underscoring her long legs and the miles of bare skin that rose above her firm thighs, pure sex, from her shaven pubis to her chilly aristocratic features. Jean with her pale skin, dusky freckles, bright red hair framing her gorgeous face, button nose, easy smile, wide sultry eyes giving an edge of sexuality to an otherwise adorable visage.

Dangling between his thighs, his limp prick surged in readiness, growing firm but not yet raising up into the air. Scott ignored it. While Jean and Emma were still as statues, lost in their psychic duel, he went to the stove and turned off the burner, then slid the skillet into the sink and turned on the water. The hot metal hissed with white clouds, but at least he'd caught it before the smoke alarm went off. That just left the matter of Jean and Emma.

He went to Jean first, put his big hands on her curvy body, and eased her forward. It was a measure of how much Jean trusted him at a core level that she went unresistingly, walking forward as if hypnotized while her mind remained locked in telepathic battle. Then he went to Emma, pushing her into the center of the kitchen so she was directly across from Jean. It was gratifying to know that she trusted him as much as Jean. If even Captain America had tried to manhandle the powerful telepaths as he just had, their psychic defenses could've crushed his mind.

He took hold of Jean's left hand and Emma's right. He placed them both at waist height, off to the side of the two women. Then he laid his manhood across their palms. Its fat ten inches easily dwarfed both their slender hands.

Standing on either side of him, Jean and Emma instinctively tightened their grip, each holding about half of his growing erection. The sudden awareness of what they were holding broke through their combat. Slowly, they withdrew their minds back from the astral plane and into themselves, coming back to find Scott standing before them both, his member demanding their attention.

And while they might normally have let go of such an intimate portion of anatomy, finding that their rivals were holding him as well made them tighten their grip. Emma ran her hand up and down the upper half of Scott's prick, rounding her grip over his cockhead and back onto his shaft. Jean spun her hand on his cock like she was revving a motorcycle engine, adding a wonderful variety of feeling to the skill that Emma was already using.

"Now—isn't that enough for both of you?" Scott rumbled deep in his chest. He hadn't put on anything since fucking Betsy. Both women took in his burgeoning muscles, the crisp lines of his handsome face, the sheer size of the erection that they both handled with room to spare.

Psychic combat was already an intense, some would say intimate prospect. It was no wonder they found themselves flooded with arousal—giving in more than willingly as Scott wrapped his hands around their waists, delving down to their asses to fondle both Jean's sizable backside and Emma's tight, svelte buttocks.

Jean's more ample assets gave Scott room to squeeze and massage, while with Emma he simply patted in possessive appreciation. It left Jean feeling very sensitive, her ass getting more and more tender as Scott molded the soft flesh with his hand, waking up the nerves into craving his touch. All of Jean was soft—her warm belly, her pendulous breasts, her ample thighs—but her ass billowed out from her otherwise slender waist until it was a feature onto itself, a constant companion that bulged out through jeans, dresses, and shorts, though she was loath to show off her body to that extent. Except with Scott, of course.

"I thought you two had learned to share," Scott said, his voice gently cutting. Playful, but still as serious as he usually was. Emma bit her lip. Jean batted her eyelashes. Both could tell that whatever game he was playing, it would have high stakes. "Didn't we have fun sharing last night?"

"She started it!" Jean accused, before becoming aware of how childish she sounded. But it was obvious that Emma had been spoiling for a fight. And quite possible Emma had gotten just what she wanted, dragging Jean down to Emma's level, making them look like two squabbling children instead of a housewife and a homewrecker...

"Maybe I should punish her then," Scott mused aloud. He looked Emma in the eye as best he could with solid red in the way. She still moistened under the force of his gaze, knowing she was his, that she was about to be used. "Push you down on your knees. Fuck your pretty face. Would that teach you a lesson, Emma? Would that make you a good girl?"

"Mmmm," Emma moaned, biting her lip. "Nothing can make me a good girl, Scott. Only more of a whore."

Scott smirked at her before turning to Jean. She too wilted under his glare, intimidated and turned on all at once. Whatever her own power, she was still almost addicted to being dominated by him. And as much as she'd love to see Emma put in her place, she wanted to be disciplined herself almost as badly.

"What about you, Jean? Haven't you always said that Emma is a wanton slut? Yet, when she goads you, you're the one who loses control. Shouldn't that be punished?"

His callused hand brushed over her ass. Jean was suddenly aware of how tender her buttocks were—how sensitive they'd become as Scott groped and played with her ass. His fingers snapped against the crest of her contours, drawing a sharp "oww!" out of Jean at the unexpected pain. And the little smack hadn't even had much wind-up.

Scott's lips brushed against her ear. "Maybe I should smack your fat ass until you've learned your lesson. Then you can be the good little girl you always say you are."

Jean twisted her face away from Scott, her cheeks coloring and her ears burning. "Scott—no—that's too much... I... we've never..."

He pulled both Jean and Emma's bodies together, softly ripe curves melting into softly ripe curves. The two women gasped at the influx of sensation as their naked flesh pressed together, separated only by the thin fabric of Jean's apron and the tissue-sheer stockings on Emma's legs. That, and Scott's protruding manhood, sandwiched between their groins. Hot as a miniature sun, throbbing so hard that it felt like it was the thing sending the vibrations of their pounding heartbeats through their chests.

Scott kissed both of them in turn, his kisses hot and bruising, dominating, leaving them with no will to resist as afterwards, he laid his hands on the back of their heads and forced their lips together. Jean kissed Emma, Emma kissed Jean, the tension between them finally exploding into rich, delicious passion. In the sudden void, neither of them thinking or knowing what to think, desire rushed in. Nearly enough to make them forget the hammering cock locked between their bodies, ready to ravage either one of them, any of their holes.

Scott could've been spent hours watching their bodies touch and mold to each other, their lips caress with growing desire but also growing nervousness, the gentle sighs as they kissed becoming louder, more needful moans. He did take a moment to relax his grip on their heads, leaving no pressure forcing them to continue the kiss—just as there was nothing he did to press them into touching one another, hands exploring the lush contours of the other's body, feeling out the pleasures they could evoke and be rewarded with in turn.

He even pulled on their hair, trying halfheartedly to separate them, only for Jean and Emma to resist despite the pain, hands clasping to one another's faces as they continued the kiss. His cock dripped molten precum, painting both their bellies as they cavorted skin to skin. He needn't have worried about them leaving him out. As one set of hands continued the feminine play, Jean and Emma also caressed him with one hand each, pulling at his muscular frame and fondling it as readily as they did each other.

Scott gave in a little—licking up the side of Jean's sweaty face as she kept kissing Emma, gorging herself on the new Sapphic delight. The redhead moaned to be kissed by both her lovers, going flush with a hint of embarrassment, yet not letting it stop her from grinding ever more enthusiastically into Emma's body. It was enough to tempt Scott into giving up the game of punishment and simply give them another chance to share their toys.

Then he heard bare feet padding across the linoleum tile. Turning his head, he saw Betsy was entering. The ninja wore only his shirt, baggy and bulky on her slight frame. The oversized fabric pressed against the lean body within, showing off the ripe curves of her breasts, the hardened nipples—and Betsy wasn't so short that the shirt reached far below her hips. Indeed, its hem came down so high that he could see the morning sun shining through her thigh gap, outlining her inner thighs and the nakedness of her pubic mound. His erection gave up another bullet of precum and Emma and Jean both moaned, smearing his seed between their bodies. Scott guessed he would have to buy a new apron. This foursome was quickly running up a tab.

"A four-person orgy and no one fixes breakfast," Betsy demurred, going to the pantry for a pragmatic box of cereal. "How impractical."

"We were sort of discussing that," Scott said. Now Jean and Emma were really including him, lips pressing to his chest, apparently deciding there was more than enough of his pecs for them both to mouth. Emma's hands squeezed his ass, leaving a painted handprint of melted popsicle there. "Jean was fixing breakfast, but Emma screwed it up. I'm trying to decide on a fitting punishment."

"I know you can be down on yourself at times, but sex with you hardly seems to be a disciplinary measure." Betsy sat atop the breakfast nook for a good view, reaching into the cereal box with her bare hand to scoop out some flakes. "If you really want to punish them—punish me. I know I'd stop being bad if I knew it meant I'd just have to sit and watch while you fucked some other bint."

"Now there's an idea," Scott said as Betsy shoveled the flakes into her mouth. "Not that I want you to stop being bad."

"Then reward me. While they were being bad, I was being so good... remember?"

Scott did remember. His cock pounded harder than ever. He supposed this was a little team now—and being team leader always involved hard choices.