X-Men: The Summers Drive Pt. 14

Scott set down the phone. He'd gone into his bedroom simply to gather fresh clothes to change into after his shower, but he'd been waylaid by a call from his brother, describing the hate crime he'd faced in Greensboro. Scott resolved to bring it up at the X-Men's next psychic conference and decide on a proportionate response. Mutant politics aside, no one picked on his brother but him.

Scott checked the clock on his nightstand. Important as the call had obviously been, it'd eaten into his morning routine, which Betsy had already taken a big bite out of. It was nearly time for the meeting and he literally wasn't dressed. Clothes tucked under his arm, Scott moved double-time to the bathroom.

The shower was already running, steam from its hot water clouding the air as Scott stepped inside. It cleared with the rush of air from him opening and closing the door, then Scott could see to the pebbled glass of the shower stall. It could only be Emma inside, naked, the blockade of glass an obscenity on her creamy skin. Even with just her voluptuous outline visible, she was glorious. Scott felt a tremor go through his limp manhood. He hadn't realized it'd been so long since he'd emptied himself into Betsy.

Emma opened the shower door. She positioned herself perfectly so that the dividing line between the slid-open door and the two joined layers of pebbled glass perfectly bisected her body. Emma was facing the showerhead, her side to him, her body openly poised. All he could see was the backs of her calves, her gloriously plump ass, and her head and shoulders as she leaned back to take the shower spray in her face. Her breasts, all of her front, was hidden by the side of the shower door that was doubly closed.

"Come on in, Scott. The water's fine."

"I don't have time for this, Emma."

Emma turned to face him, the open/closed shower door now bisecting her body down the front. He could see one arm, one eye, one breast, one leg—and he was desperate to see the other half, even knowing that with Emma's diamond-cut, symmetrical body, it could look no different. He watched jeweled droplets of water embrace her flawless skin as tightly as he would like to, her wet hair cascading down her shoulders and over the slopes of her plump tits.

"You don't have time to wash up?" Emma teased with perfect candor in her voice. He could see one well-rounded hip, but her pussy was hidden by the frame of the shower door. It was a sexual taunt worthy of the finest courtesan. "You should make time. The three of us came all over you. How could we not, the way you fucked us over and over again? Even a good little girl like Jean just has to lose her head when your big cock's inside her..."

Scott went to the sink, setting his clothes down on the counter. Emma had thought of everything, wiping the mirror down so it didn't fog up. He could see her body still inside the stall, all the censorious glass in the world unable to dull the vibrant curves of her body. There was no overstating the temptation he felt as Emma stood there, clad only in running water and a veil of steam. Then he heard her moan...

"Nnnhhh," Emma sighed, moving the showerhead down her taut belly, its massage of water tingling its way over her loins. Then she moved the stream up until it was stimulating the tips of her long, hard nipples. Her clit thrummed furiously, not used to having Scott so close and not getting any relief. Emma moved the showerhead down again, not stopping now until its spray was hitting her sex.

She thought of Scott just hard enough for him to feel her attentions through their psychic link—the thought of his big, hard body crushing her into a groaning mattress. Emma knew exactly how she would writhe under his demanding thrusts, whispering in his ear how she loved his cock as he gave it to her, gave her cunt what she craved. She wanted her aching pussy filled to the brim until Scott was ready to feed her his hot, heavy load.

Scott groaned aloud. Emma could tell he was fully erect. If he were any harder, his cock would be knocking her toothbrush off the sink.

"Better hurry," Emma goaded. "I'd hate to use up all the hot water."

Scott wrenched off his visor before he could take another look at her, replacing it with a dry washcloth he used to blindfold himself. He told himself that he could take Emma's games. The shower was big enough for both of them. He'd lather, rinse, and go to attend the conference. All Emma would be getting was clean.

Following long-standing routine, he walked to the shower, but this time he trod over Emma's discarded stockings. He remembered they had been the only thing she wore. With the keen awareness that years of training had given him during episodes of blindness, he felt Emma step to the side, allowing him to get into the shower with her and slide the door shut. Hot water beat down on both of them. Scott could feel Emma's eyes on him, running appraisingly over his muscular body just as he had lusted over her moments ago.

He reached for the soap dish, but Emma beat him to it, swiping the cake of soap away before he could lay hands on it. "Let me do that, my darling," she purred.

The next thing he knew, her hand was rubbing against his chest, smearing soapy lather into his skin. Scott stood there tolerantly as Emma lavished the soap across his pectorals, his broad shoulders, then down across his abdominal muscles—he could sense Emma's glee coming off her as she ran the soap down into his lower belly and pubic hair, pointedly ignoring his throbbing erection.

Despite the fact that Emma was doing no more than rubbing a bar of soap against his flesh—something Scott had obviously done to himself thousands of times—his body responded to her touch, tingling and clenching with the memory of how Emma felt, her arousing skill, the ecstasy that fucking her would bring.

She stepped closer, pressing her full breasts into his chest, where they slid against the soapy suds she had deposited there. Scott groaned aloud, but Emma pretended not to notice, only reaching behind him to paint soap across his broad back. Down his spine and over his muscular ass.

As innocent as Emma was playing this, Scott could well imagine the smutty smile she no doubt wore as she knelt down—his cock had to be right next to her face—and washed his strong thighs. Precum seeped from Scott's stiffened erection, then was lost in the shower spray, but Emma's nostrils twitched. This close, she could smell the tantalizing scent of sperm. As she finished with the ultimate supplication of washing Scott's feet, she turned her head and 'accidentally' brushed her lips across his glans, before she stood up, puckering her lips and sucking away the small taste she had gotten.

"Oops," Emma intoned. "Missed a spot."

Her sudsy fingers teasingly played over his balls and, when Scott didn't resist—it was all he could do not to throw himself into Emma—she gripped them. Scott's muscles tensed with passion. Emma's other hand literally washed over his shaft, his erection twitching crazily as she soaped its length. With how hard his cock was straining, there was no need to move around his foreskin to wash all of his member. Emma simply ran the soap along his prick, marveling at the strong throbs she felt his erection give off.

Scott rolled his head back and simply let Emma have her best go at seducing him. She had a way of making him feel like no hand but hers had ever touched his prick, leaving him out of his head with pleasure. He longed to plunge his newly cleaned manhood into her pussy, finding out how dirty the sex could be when both of them were squeaky clean. But, true to the bizarre constraints of the game they were playing, Emma released his cock when she was done cleaning it, leaving the next move to him. Literally.

"Now do me," Emma purred, taking his hand and pressing the bar of soap into his fingers.

Scott could not resist, reaching out first to where he knew her plump left breast to be. He gripped it firmly in his left hand while, with the right, he washed it brusquely. Scott repeated the procedure with her other breast. He was unsurprised to find her nipple stingingly hard, Emma making a tiny "nnnnnn" noise as he washed all the sensitive contours of her teat.

He went upwards, keeping up the pattern of feeling out her body with the left hand and soaping it with the right. Even sightless, the feel of Emma's body was quick to summon up how perfect she looked—and there was no comparison between the two. If Scott had to choose between seeing Emma and touching Emma, he'd take the feel of her any day.

He slid his hand up her graceful neck, nesting his fingers in her hair while he ran the bar of soap across her face, fingers describing her strong features to him as he washed her face. Her high cheekbones, the aristocratically precise lines of her face. All that was missing was her sharp blue eyes. No amount of touch could convey the feeling of Emma's piercing gaze or the sense of sheer predation they gave off as she shifted into lust.

"Maybe I should wash your mouth out with soap," Scott suggested, pushing the bar of soap at her pert lips. Her resistance underscored how eagerly she usually let him put himself in her mouth. "You've been saying some very dirty things lately..."

Don't you dare, Summers! Emma barked in his mind, and Scott slid the soap down off her pointed chin. He understood. Even the White Queen had to draw a line somewhere, declare that there were some things she took no pleasure in.

"No. I like your mouth the way it is," Scott said. He stooped to kiss her as he continued to use the bar of soap on her body, washing her supple arms, her bare back, her slender waist. He turned his head, allowing her to continue kissing at the strong line of his jaw. "Besides, I have better ways of punishing you."

And with his big empty hand, he laid an unerring slap on the large target of her curvy ass.

"Ooh!" Emma cried. "If you're to punish me, don't I even get to enjoy being naughty first?"

"We don't have time for that," Scott said firmly. But even as he said it, he thrust his hand down to Emma's groin. He ground the bar of soap into her firm thighs. Emma opened her legs, exposing her cunt to his hand, and Scott felt the warmth of her sexuality as he rolled the soap over her pussy.

"A bit late to keep that clean," Emma jibed. "I may already have your child growing inside me, Scott. Imagine that. A bouncing baby Summers." She pouted. "Is that why you won't fuck me? Because you've already knocked me up? Do I have to up my game—give you even more than my womb to keep your interest?"

He put his other hand on her waspish waist, holding her firmly in place as his right hand cast about like a blind man's, operating by feel alone to delve between her legs, wash her buttocks, her perineum, every part of her with circling strokes. Scott wouldn't have believed he could tell the difference between the shower's water and Emma's lustful juices, but he could most definitely tell that Emma was sopping wet.

"Mmmmmm," Emma moaned into his mouth, still kissing him as he washed her. "Clean me off, Scott. I'm tired of being a dirty girl. I want to be good. I want to be your good girl to fuck."

He felt her hands caress his face as she deepened the kiss into a passionate, even romantic embrace, then skimmed her fingers down his body, all the way down to where his cock nestled between her thighs and he held the bar of soap at her groin. Emma slipped away the soap, using her hands instead of open up her sex and invite Scott to enter. Scott was helpless not to reach into her flowing cunt, his soapy fingers feeling the tender lining, the glossy wetness inside her, the tightness that seemed custom-made to hold his hard cock.

"It's yours if you want it, lover," Emma cooed, already a little breathless with the beginnings of her penetration. "But what I really want is your cock in my ass. All Betsy gave you was her cunt. You can have my asshole. Bend me over right here and take it. I've already gotten it ready for you—daddy. Use it. Use me. Before you have to share these tits with baby."