You Be My Hero, I'll Be Yours

Bless him, he edged back before the next forward thrust. He went no deeper than before. Back, forward. The aching strain was easing, and not all that slowly. Like her jaw, she found herself relaxing, the tension of self-preservation melting away. The next forward slid deeper. Another type of preservation, genetic, propagative in purpose, spoke from her cells.

Soaked. As ready as she could imagine. He was slick with her slobber; she was slick with his. Her hand assisted the next thrust, her own hips lifting into it. This was it.

"Uhnnnn!" It felt like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. There was no way he couldn't have seen the shocked look that crossed her face. Was there pain? Probably. But the rush of overwhelming giddy delight drowned it out.

"No! Stay here!" It froze him before he could pull back. She allowed her fingers, still snugged between them, to explore him.

"Cheryl...that's too much!" The hand retreated from his panic, but not before she had traced what length she could: his fat, swollen head was definitely inside her. Well inside, judging by the amount of him remaining.

She reached up, wrapping both arms around his strong neck. Legs followed, red leather heels locking behind him, thighs opening wider.

Her hips rose, danced a small, slow circle, feeling it opening her slowly, stretching her body to make room for him. She could do this.

"Now." He looked more relaxed, at least a little. "I'm a big girl, remember?"

He nodded, brow furrowing.

"A strong girl. Tough. I'm your Wonder Woman, right?"

He grinned, nodded. "Yes. Yes you are."

"And Wonder Woman promises to tell her Superman if she can't take it."

He paused, nodded again. "Okay."

"Then please: Superman. Please fuck me. Fuck me right now!"

He did. In his own sweet, cautious way, thank the heavens and all the gods of Olympus. As much as she wanted this, wanted him, there is no way she could have taken him shoving his entire length into her at once, not then.

Instead, he moved, working in and out, easing her body into gradually accepting him.

So he fucked her, Super slow, and Super sweet, never quite stopping, never taking it beyond her limit. Close to it several times, yes, on the verge of her calling for him to stop more the once, but eventually her thighs opened wide enough, her body relaxed enough, that they both felt the moment the very base of his cock found her. They breathed together, connected in that most primordial of fashions, motionless.

Her fingers had found a small curl on the back of his neck. It gave her a small distraction, a point to focus away from the stuffed-full pressure below. Was it the same curl as earlier? She pulled back enough to stroke his cheek, watch him lean into the contact, nuzzle her palm.

"Chaz? I want to feel your weight."

The brow tightened again.

"Here." Her hands found one of his, guided it to her chest. Her boobs weren't small by any means, and his mitt engulfed one. The second big hand was directed to its own breast.

"Lean forward. Please. Oh...yehh." The last came out as a harsh whisper as his weight shifted onto her chest, compressing her lungs. Shallow breaths were all she could take. Shallow and rapid, with that thrilling, familiar, light-headed euphoria singing through her from not quite getting enough air.

He kept his weight on her, just enough. Then his hips began to move again. Still slow, but longer strokes, pulling back before each measured, completely irresistible, totally filling thrust deep into her. It was hard to concentrate now, but she thought his breaths had changed too, that a new tension was forming in him.

A small repeated ripple in his chest muscles, near-duplicated on both sides, captured her attention, mesmerizing. Her hands floated up of their own volition, open palms finding his solid, rounded bulk. One dragged over a nipple.

A tiny cry escaped him, almost lost by the shock of a deeper, less measured thrust. Her other hand mirrored the contact, palms each rubbing over a nipple. This cry was deeper, more throaty. His eyes lost focus.

Keeping her fingers splayed wide, she let two palms circle, stroking over his chest, making sure that both hard nipples were forced to endure uninterrupted contact.

His head rolled back, gazing out at nothing.

His hips moved quicker, but more shallowly, mirroring his rapid breaths.

She had seen this last night: his wonderful sensitive nipples really were her Superman's kryptonite.

Hips heaved forward a final time, stopped. The thickness filling her swelled, thicker yet, followed by a release worthy of a superhero.

She had felt the power of his orgasm through her hand, through his pants, on the couch. This was at least as hard, as prolonged and pronounced, as he pumped groaning, jaw-gritted stream after stream of thick hot cum deep inside her, his weight still compressing her breaths.

Lost in his pleasure, she'd ignored the signs of air deprived, the heady rush's onset.

Scarlet darkness swirled up from her core, crept into the edges of her vision, bringing tensions demanding their own sweet release.

A release that surprised her, overwhelming her, her cries mingling inseparably with his own.

Panting slowed, shaking shudders subsided. Except for two tiny tremors; minuscule shaking vibrations in both massive arms and shoulders. "You're still holding your weight up. Relax."

"I'm too heavy."

"Try me."

"Okay. You asked for it." He lowered himself rather than dropping his entire body onto her. It felt good, really good. Until it didn't.

Her hand rapidly tapped-out on his shoulder, while she weezed a laugh. "Okay. Enough. Uncle."

He eased up and rolled to one side, lowering himself beside her on the bed. Neither spoke. Should she break the silence with something like 'Damn, that was Super good?'

But he needed no words at all, rolling her onto one side, catching her in the crook of one heavy arm. The other hand stroked through her hair, tucking her face in close to his neck, now slick with sweat and his scent.

He'd remembered: this is exactly how she'd asked to be held, by a helpful, handsome young man who had not asked any question when an older, widowed neighbor requested he take off his shirts and just hold her to his strong, bare chest. She snuggled in against him, allowing herself to revel in feeling so delicate, petite and safe.

When the phone rang she resisted even the slightest movement toward it.

"Do you want to get that?"

She tucked her head in closer, offering his jawline a single kiss. "Not if it means leaving this."

*CHAZ*

He felt a warm glow inside at her answer. He tugged her naked shape tighter against him. Within minutes after the phone's ring stopped, both were asleep.

———

Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.

He awoke with a start, in unfamiliar surroundings. A soft hand stroked his chest as a softer, sweeter voice murmured. "It's okay, my big sleepy hero. I'll go see who's there. You just stay here in my bed and...oh my!"

Her surprise forced his eyes open. Cheryl was staring, accompanied by a delighted grin. He lifted his own head to look down, following her line of sight.

"Oh god. I'm sorry."

"Sweet man! Don't ever apologize for this."

He watched her reach out, lightly grip the stiff hard-on that angled upward over his stomach.

"Mmmm!" They hummed the satisfied sound simultaneously, and both laughed.

Then she was up, standing in one graceful motion. He stared openly at her nakedness, complete now. She must have removed the Wonder Woman accessories while he slept. If anything, she was somehow more glorious this way.

"Where is my robe?" She looked puzzled, not quite awake.

It reminded him of her big reveal earlier. "Maybe the kitchen floor?"

"And on top of everything else, he's smart." She headed toward the bedroom door, stopped, considering. Then she turned back and leapt onto the bed, shocking him when she bent low, slurping him into her mouth. He gasped at the sudden intense sight and sensation. Just as quickly, she was on her feet again, beautiful lips in a wide, white smile.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself. Now you relax. And keep your hands off my all-day sucker." She was gone, leaving him a final view of her round, firm backside.

Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." She called.

Still tingling from her sudden, surprise sucking, he couldn't help hearing it as "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

He couldn't wait to feel, hear, see her cumming again.

He'd heard a woman's voice, but most of the words weren't clear. Beth? "I called you earlier" reached him and "Hungover" and then "You're the one who brought me a thermos full of whiskey." Yes, Beth. The women continued at a lower volume. Sleep was beckoning, his eyes drooping when Cheryl swept back in the room.

"I am so mad at you, mister." The robe was already slipping from her shoulders, landing in a pile on the floor. Again.

"You don't sound all that mad."

"Well I am. Really mad."

"Okay. Though in my experience, gorgeous women who are mad at me don't generally undress and climb in bed with me."

"Well I'm exceptional." She was propped up on one elbow, eyes bright. A bare hip and leg pressed close. Fingers fluttered light strokes down over his stomach.

"I know that. Truer words were never spoken." She was exceptional, in many ways.

"Flatterer. But I'm still mad.' Her hand had found what it was seeking, fingers wrapping as far around it as they could reach. He wasn't fully hard now, but that was already changing.

"So: what did I do to incur your wrath, O Princess of the Amazons?"

"You -- and this great big monster here -- pumped me so full of your thick creamy cum that it started running down my leg while Beth was at the door."

He was proud of his restraint, keeping a straight, concerned face. "And?"

"'And?!' And it was extremely distracting! I'm trying to concentrate on what she was saying, pretending to be hung over and not give her any reason to come in for a visit, and your-" she relaxed her grip to poke his chest with one finger -- "and your" -- she found his shaft again, gave it a single firmer squeeze -- "very distracting cum wouldn't stop leaking out of my poor, over-stuffed lady parts and then running down my thighs."

Her fingers moved, squeezing, tugging gently. He returned the favor, reaching out to cup one breast, before leaning close to suck lightly at its nipple for a second. Possibly two.

"Mmm. Hey! Are you trying to distract me?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. But let me try to understand: Did she see it?"

"No."

"Is she here now, visiting?"

"No."

"But you're still mad?"

"Yes." She couldn't hide her smile. "Very."

"Hmm. I can only think of one thing to do. Well, two things."

"What?" He had her attention.

"First. I don't believe you're telling me the truth. And I happen to know of a certain lasso, that happens to look amazingly good tying you up, that will help me get to the truth of this very important matter. And it just so happens that lasso is right here on the bed."

"Uh oh." She neither sounded nor looked very worried. Instead, the way she bit down on her lovely lower lip spoke more of anticipation than worry when he pulled both her wrists together, moved to wrap the golden rope around them.

"Wait. What was the other one? You said there were two things you could think of to do."

"That's right. I did." He guided her naked body down onto the bed, onto her back, pushing her knees apart.

She was just too gorgeous. Too magnificent. He froze at the sight, agape, before recovering self-volition, climbing between her long legs. He lifted them, holding them high. The position allowed him to bend lower, draw closer to the exposed backs of her knees. When thumbs made feathery circles there she rewarded him with a whine.

"Are you mad that I came so much inside your tight, hot, incredibly sexy belly?"

She shook her head.

"Come on, say it."

"No. I'm not mad at you for cumming so frigging unbelievably much inside of me." He liked the sound of that.

"Were you frustrated and distracted that some of that cum was leaking out of you while you were talking to your friend?"

"Yes."

"Good. That takes care of the first thing I thought to do. You sound like you're telling the truth." He leaned lower, kissing now at those knees, at her legs, enjoying her squirms.

He kneeled closer, opening her legs wider, aiming his swollen head between her thighs. She was right: he could see a still-shiny wet track running down the inside of one soft thigh.

"What are you doing?"

Why, the second thing, of course." He dragged his tip through slick tender folds.

"And that is?"

"Well, there's two parts: First, I'm going to push myself inside you and make sure all the remaining cum gets shoved as far up into you as I can, so we don't have any more leaks like this."

"Uhh!" Her eyes widened.

"And then, after that, I'm going to pump another load up in your belly and fill you full."

"Oh." Her voice was tiny, little more than a whisper. "Fuck."

He nodded, slow and exaggerated. "Yes. Fuck. That's going to be the part between 'push in' and 'pump you full.' But I think you're tough enough to handle it, huh, my wonderous woman?"

"Gimme your best shot, big guy." The twinkle in her voice and eyes was back. "But first...."

She brought one leg up close and, showing flexibility his body could never approach, squeezed it between them. Then she rolled, feet hitting the floor, standing alongside the bed, looking down at him. Her confidence, standing over him, so near and so naked, thrilled him. "...I have a question or two for you."

She scooped up the lasso, looped it twice over his shoulders. "Now you have no choice but to tell me the truth."

"Uh-oh. About what?"

"Well, so far we've been talking about me, my fantasies, what turns me on. Being held against your sexy chest. Your weight stealing my breath away. My Superman taking advantage of Wonder Woman's nigh indestructible body. After he literally tore her clothes off. Now I want to hear a fantasy of yours, so I can give back a little of what you've given me."

"Umm. Really. Just being here, with you, getting you to cum like that with my mouth, my hands on you, my, uh, cock and cum in you. You are totally a dream come true."

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm gorgeous, sexy as hell, we all know that. Now, fess up: you've fantasized about me, I know you have. Let the truth out." To emphasize the situation, she tugged at the Lasso of Truth wrapped around him.

What could he say? She had been a major source of fantasy inspiration throughout his teen years. In so many ways. But the common super-charged fuel behind a large selection of those ways was one vision, only seen one afternoon. That bikini. Four years ago.

"The last day I was home, before I left for my freshman year in college, I saw something."

Her smile was happy and hungry. "Finally. The Lasso of a truth prevails. Pray continue."

"Dad had a crew to trim back the trees in our yard that week. My bedroom is on the second floor. The trimming opened a gap in the leaves and I could see a small patch of sunny grass in your backyard. A motion caught my eye, out the window, while I was packing for school. It was you."

"Me? What? Four years ago?"

"Yeah. Four years. I was eighteen, barely."

*CHERYL*

She tried to remember. Four years ago. In the backyard. The end of summer. Could that have been the time...no, it couldn't be; it was only the one time. And nothing had really happened outside. Still, she felt a warmth spread through her belly at the memory. It had ended up being one of the kinkier things she and Johnathan had done. It couldn't be.

"You came out, carrying a big beach towel. I think it was the towel flapping I saw first, as you spread it out over a sunny patch in the grass."

Damn. What was the chance? And he could have no idea where this ended.

His handsome face was turned up, gazing out at nothing, remembering. "You had on the most amazing bikini I had ever seen."

Not only could it be, it was. She had only worn that skimpy thing one time outside and that was in her own backyard. There is no way she could have worn it in public.

"It was metallic, kind of bronze colored, so it almost matched your skin tone. For an instant, my teenaged brain thought you were naked."

"Science has shown that's the number one way of attracting a teen boy's attention: the possibility of a naked chick."

"Not just any chick: the most beautiful woman this teen had ever seen."

"Oh come on. Flattery is fine, but the most beautiful ever? That's a little over the top."

"You forget, Princess: I'm bound by your lasso, and bound to tell the truth."

She shrugged, not quite hiding a satisfied smile. "I guess I can't argue with that."

As Chaz continued describing -- accurately -- how tiny the triangular patches of metallic cloth were, how much and how gloriously they had accentuated and exposed her, Cheryl's memories wandered. She'd already known that Johnathan had a thing for tan lines, the crisp demarcation of contrast between pale, intimate flesh and it's darker, sun-tanned neighborhood.

She had been shopping an 'end of summer' sale, with Beth, as a matter of fact. They had both laughed at the tiny tangle of metallic cloth, the ridiculously inappropriate cut of the revealing bikini, and agreed no one could wear that in public without risking a rapid arrest. Not here. Cheryl couldn't help a small grin as she recalled heading back to the store alone, as soon as Beth had dropped her off. Yes, it would be inappropriate in public, but not for the private use she was envisioning.

The plan was to get an hour or so of early September sun and then model her new suit for her husband, before stripping down to show him the fresh tan lines. Instead, bathing in the sun's warmth, she had fallen asleep, wakening only to find her overexposed front an angry burnt red.

Wincing in discomfort and pouting in disappointment, she'd shown Johnathan, telling him the spoiled scheme she'd planned. His reaction had surprised her. It turned out her almost glowing bright skin against the small paler bits covered by the bikini was more of a turn-on than a mere tan would have been.

He was doting, eager to examine every inch of the delineated contrast, all the time as stiffly aroused as she had seen him in years. He'd whispered, cooed at his poor, tender girl, soothing her with soft words while one hand stroked at his own inflamed arousal. Then he had cried out, surprising both of them with a wide spraying shower of cum that covered most of her chest and stomach.

He was panting, wild eyed. Cheryl's own eyes went wide when she'd looked down, seen how rigidly he still stood, at attention, projecting out completely stiff from the low, dark tangle of hair.

"Yes. That's it." She'd reached for, found his stiffness, begun stroking his length, slick with his own cum. "Your little girl likes the feeling of the lotion you put on her, to soothe her poor burnt skin."

His hips humped, jerky and arrhythmic in her hand.

"But she needs more. Much more. Will you coat her poor, tender skin with some more of your special therapeutic lotion?"

He did, groaning, loud and hoarse, as he released a second flood of thick stripes over her. It would be the only time her husband came like that, twice, hard, from the same erection. Even after that reaction, her reddened body was inspiration for two more orgasms that day: a third that afternoon, which had left a thick stream of 'lotion' running up between her pale breasts, not ending until it reached the hollow at the base of her throat. A fourth followed late that night, deep inside her, his eyes locked and staring at her burnt chest, captivated by the two pale patches and their twin central nipples bouncing with each hard thrust.