You Be My Hero, I'll Be Yours

Four times in one day and all because of that skimpy old bikini. Now, another broad-chested man was confessing the orgasmic impact the swimsuit had also had on him. That day, the intensity of the experience, was one they had tried and failed to duplicate several times. Close, though and every attempt, every 'failure,' had been worth a sunburn.

Damn, she was wet now, really wet. Almost squirming.

She pushed herself up off the bed. Snatching up a pillow, she dropped it over his face. "Stay here. No peaking."

"I like it when you say that: it's getting to be one of my favorite things. Does this mean you still have that metallic bikini?" Even with his voice muffled by the pillow, it sounded like he was licking his lips.

"No, unfortunately for you. It was way too tiny on me when I got it, and I've put on a few pounds since then."

"If so, you've put them on in the most strategic and complimentary of locations." He'd made no effort to remove the muffling pillow. It left him in a convenient position, with his own eyes covered, and leaving hers free to wander over his still-bound body freely, unobserved.

"Now imagine the ridiculously little triangles of spandex that were supposed to at least ostensibly contain those so-called 'strategic locations,' triangles that were inadequate before and now being tasked with fuller duties. It would be a losing battle."

"Mmm. I'm imagining. I'm imagining. And I like it a lot."

"I can tell." My god, he was thickening, straightening out. The darker-red head lurched upward, off his stomach, as she watched. She shook her head, scolding herself for how much resistance her eyes continued to offer, even when she insisted they look away.

She knew exactly where that bikini was, had seen it while fishing Wonder Woman out of the closet. The little ball of fabric was small enough to hide in one fist. She winced as she tied the top and bottom on in front of the mirror: strategically placed or not, containing her curves with this was indeed going to be a losing battle. But this was a battle she didn't think she'd mind losing.

"Okay. I'm ready."

*CHAZ*

He heard her call, distant. He pulled the pillow off his face, blinked at the light. He let the lasso fall as he stood. Where was she?

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his hard-on swaying in front of him. Any other time in his life, his hands would have been scrambling to cover himself before being seen by another person. A reflex. Not with Cheryl. It was still unnerving, but she'd provided enough positive feedback that he felt confidence striding out of her bedroom entirely naked, on display.

The kitchen was empty. So was the large living room. "Uh. Where are you?"

"Right here." It sounded close, perhaps from behind the couch where it floated away from the wall, defining the walkway to the guest room.

"There you a..." He'd found her and lost his own tongue.

Two large colorful beach towels were spread over the carpet. Spread out over them was a vision, a vision of godlike, superhuman beauty. Cheryl was stretched out on her back, large dark sunglasses obscuring her eyes. The bikini did indeed still exist and -- close up -- it was tinier than he remembered. And thinner, more like he has envisioned, with her nipples clearly defined. But his recollection was correct on the color: sort of an antiqued metallic sheen, it was a decent match for her skintone, especially now. Especially with an oily shimmer glinting from every inch of her exposed body.

He saw a green squarish bottle. "Is that olive oil?"

"It is. I don't have any suntan lotion, so I thought this might work."

"Oh, it definitely works."

She giggled.

"You lied to me." He tried to sound stern.

"About still having this little thing?" She circled each of the diminutive upper triangles with a single finger, one slowly dragging across the shadowy peak of a nipple, teasing both herself and Chaz. Barely covered hips squirmed.

She shrugged. "I wasn't the one in the coils of the Lasso of Truth. Are you complaining?"

"No! Not at all. You are..." Words were difficult to come by, his attention bouncing from one sight to another, not just appreciating a close-up, refreshed view of this long-time fantasy, but the oil coating her: the sheen accentuated every curve, every smooth, marvelous inch of her nearly-naked body, her long, graceful limbs.

Silence fell, extended. Her face was inscrutable behind the sunglasses. He was still simply staring.

She smiled, sudden, wide, bright. A short, sweet peal of delighted laughter broke the stillness.

"What?" Was she laughing at him?

"The look on your young, handsome face, in those big beautiful eyes."

"What look?"

"It's..." she paused, considering, bringing her hands up to lace behind her neck. The position elongated her torso, exaggerated the precarious nature of the hold her bikini top had on her full breasts. "...like your eyes are hungry, or thirsty, drinking me in. I see awe in them, and reverence."

She looked suddenly shy, glancing away from him as she continued. "I better warn you: I could get addicted to being looked at like that."

"I could get addicted to looking at you..."

He might have missed hearing her little gasp, but he definitely saw the flutter it caused along her oiled, shining rib cage.

"Just looking? Nothing else?"

"If looking is all I could get, I'd take it and consider myself to be blessed by the gods."

She studied him. "Wow. That's...you're...uh...yeah. Wow." She giggled at herself, nervous. "You like the way I look. Don't you?"

"You know what's almost better than looking at you?" Again, Chaz felt his own confidence boost when she showed these little bouts of shyness. "Watching my hands travel over you, exploring."

He knelt on the towels as he said it, close alongside of her.

"The soft smooth skin here where these beautiful breasts meet your chest." He traced an extended fingertip there through the oil. "Mmm. Especially all slippery and shiny like this."

His hands dropped lower, together reaching down toward her ankles before sliding slowly upward. "These long silky perfect legs that meet...at paradise."

Under his stroking hands her thighs parted slightly, opening up a view of the small strip of fabric covering this 'paradise.' His breath caught as he saw the darker patch there. She was wet, soaked through the cloth.

He forced his attention and touch further upward, stroking up her belly, traveling around, outside each breast now, following the full curves escaping the inadequate top. He continued the exploration, over throat and slender neck.

"Then there's this: your smile, these wide, sexy lips and the sweet little sounds that escape them." He started to trace their outline with his thumb when those lips sealed around it, sucking him in deep. She released him with a satisfied grin.

"You just like my big mouth because I can fit your thick cock inside."

"Can you?" They both looked down: he was stiffer yet, jutting outward, at her.

"Hell yeah! Probably. I think."

"Well, which is it? Do I need to use the lasso again?"

"Mmm. Maybe. No. I can do it. I almost did it last time. You know: What else are these big lips good for, anyhow?" She slurped again at the thumb tip still hovering near her mouth.

"Uh. Kissing. Your kisses are simply incredible."

"Okay. I'm not going to argue that one."

"And driving me crazy sucking on my nipples."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. I guess my oversized lips are multitalented."

"And I need a kiss from them right now."

"No argument from me on that one either."

He lowered himself beside her, slipping an oil-slick hand under her, pulling her to him. Tongues and lips both took their time, in no hurry now. When she lowered her head, he groaned as her lips sealed around one nipple.

She giggled without losing her seal.

"What?"

"I can taste the olive oil. It's on you now."

He stroked down her long, lovely flank until his fingers tangled in the bow tied at her hip. They found a loose end, tugged. The knot came undone.

"Sir." Lips still contacting the sensitive 'kryptonite' sent a vibrating charge through him. "Are you trying to strip my defenseless body, and leave me naked and exposed?"

"Not at all."

He rolled onto his back on the towels, pulling her on top of him. "These bottoms were starting to get in the way, but I have no intention of stripping you naked. Not until I spend a lot more time checking you out in this sexy little top."

She sat up, straddling him, after a last soft lingering kiss on his nipple. Hands reached up and cupped full, overflowing breasts, slippery with oil. "You like checking me out?"

His hips pushed up against her. "You know it. Especially all oily, and wearing my personal fantasy."

"I thought I was your fantasy? Are you just using me for my outfits?"

God! Again, her glowing smile and bright eyes hit him, leaving it his turn to feel oxygen-deprived.

"A fantasy dressed in a fantasy then coated in accentuating, shimmering edible oil."

He found the matching knot on the bottom's other side, hesitated, holding the loose end, not yet pulling it free. Her lower body began to grind slow circles on him. He let her motion do the work instead: he simply held the string and her next circle moved enough to undo the knot. Front and back of the bikini bottom fell apart, onto him. He slipped them out from between her thighs, tossed the tangle of cloth aside.

Her lips formed an O as she settled her weight over him, his stiff length snuggling up close against her. His lips matched hers when she settled nearer yet, heat finding him, slick and wet.

The circles of her hips became a simpler pattern, rocking up, back down, dragging her slipperiness along his length. Her smile was hungry, happy. "Maybe we should explore how well certain other lips can manage to take this big thing inside."

"Show me." From the delighted glow of her eyes to the sheen of her smooth oiled skin and the tiny triangles hiding nothing, only accentuating the curves of full breasts and the stiffened rise of both nipples, she was already putting on an incredible show for him. The thought of her riding his cock, perched so high above him, was almost too much. He felt a tightening, low, deep in his groin.

"Yes, sir. As you wish. Immediately."

"I'm going to start calling you Jeanie."

"Jeanie?"

"I've never had so many wishes granted in a single day. You must be a Genie."

Cheryl shook her head. "That's terrible."

"I know. I'm going to blame the lack of blood reaching my brain since breakfast began."

"Good excuse. I think I know where all the blood has been going."

She reached, found him, her touch both welcome and overwhelming. Rising up on her knees gave him a view of the space between smooth thighs, of the space disappearing, filled, as she guided him up, to her.

"Fuck." Had she said that too? He was pretty sure his own response had been out loud, almost as confident that he had heard hers. Her grin said yes, then faded into worry. Her body had lowered, bringing tight, soaked heat down to surround his intensely sensitive head, then halted. The rapid, nervous shaking of her thighs was clear.

"Stop." She did, perched above him. The worry disappeared. She looked more like a goddess than ever, hovering over him, straight and proud as she would on a throne.

He had one more request, inspired by the oil and the bikini. "Show me those titties."

"Excuse me? Are you referring to these, my breasts, my bosom?" Oiled hands cupped over bikini and flesh, accompanied by the renewal of small movements of her hips. He stared as one nipple was pinched through the thin, dark-stained fabric.

"Yes. Your beautiful, bountiful breasts."

"You're sure?" He stared when she tugged both tiny triangles aside, massaging oil over the small areas not yet coated. "These little things?"

*CHERYL*

When he didn't answer, she leaned forward, still massaging, still pinching, rolling one delightfully sensitive nipple between thumb and finger. She didn't stop until her hands had to abandon their oily posts, in order to hold herself up. Her breasts were only inches from his mesmerized face.

"Taste me, Chaz." His pupils widened. Then he leaned forward, lips finding, sucking a nipple in. Something - it had to be his unseen tongue -- flicked hard over the tip.

"Yes! Fuck yes. Suck on it, baby. Just like that."

Her lower body was moving entirely on its own. A gasp escaped her, brought on by a sudden electric surge inside, when his head suddenly slipped deeper, her hips sinking down on him. It brought her upper half vertical again, back arching, nipple suddenly stolen from his lips with an audible pop.

He looked up at her, licked his lips. "Mmm. Olive oil. My favorite."

"You have a favorite oil?"

"I do now."

She held his eyes, hips circling. They both felt the small, irregular progress as she eased down even lower on him, slowly taking him deeper.

"Uhhh!" She hadn't known her voice could go that deep, groaning when she finally settled down, all the way against him. She hadn't known something else could go that deep either. Her hips could only make the tiniest of movements now.

"What do you want me to do?" This was supposed to be his fantasy.

"Go at your own pace, wonderous one." Do what feels good. You're in charge."

That was the problem.

Climbing up into the saddle and riding that bronco all the way home, the strong, sexy, confident cowgirl setting the rhythm and bending that buck to her desires: it sounded so simple.

And she had no real idea what to do. What was expected, desired. Being held down and being done that way, giving in to a strong partner on top of her, was a lot simpler than this.

Chaz's face gave her confidence. The reverence, the awe were still there. She was a goddess, an Amazon princess, a fantasy made real. She let her hips begin to dance, let her body move under his watchful, worshipful, hungry gaze. The fat soft-hard head and its thick shaft still felt like they stretched her, exploring her limits, but her body was welcoming the intruder now, embracing him.

Pressure built, in her belly and up her spine, but his bright wonder-filled eyes, and panting, open mouth fed the swirling heat that made the pressure bearable, irresistible.

Somehow, their bodies combined their efforts, cooperating on a mutual goal. Her body sank down, taking him deeper yet.

"Uhhhhn!" Her head fell back, spine arching as he filled her. Totally. Completely. She probably would have fallen if his powerful hands hadn't seized either side of her waist, pinning her down on him. He began his own strong but small motions, grinding up against her as he held her tight to him. It brought her something to cling to, to focus on. Her head came forward to once again drink in the vision of this young powerful superhero under her, his body now smeared with oil, so obviously relishing every glimpse of her, every intimate contact between them.

She was no longer dancing solo, no longer in charge. Her body embraced his rhythm, allowing her to play, improvise off his simple, steady, thrusting beat. Now that it wasn't her sole responsibility, she had no problem taking the lead. His eyes widened, throat and chest beginning to flush a deep red again as her hips, her entire body, took over the direction of their shared dance.

That chest. Not only reddening, it rose and fell more and more rapidly. Could she make him cum like this -- riding him until he exploded inside her? The idea, the possibility, brought another wave of melting warmth to rush through her, spiraling down her spine to swirl deep in her belly. God! Could she cum herself like this, on top, in charge? She never had with Johnathan, but she had already treaded far into territories 'never before' explored. Limits, barriers, no longer seemed real.

She lowered both hands, leaning forward to rest them on each powerful rise of his thick chest. The locking of his eyes, his attention, on her breasts -- her titties! -- swinging so near in front of him, was one more delight among many.

His breaths were shallow, quick, but behind them was a less obvious, more rapid thrumming. She let the sensation of this deeper vibration strengthen, sight and sound dimming so this hum from his very core grew louder, filling her focus.

Her weight leaned forward, pressed down on his chest. She almost laughed: when he had held her like this she'd been overwhelmed, her breaths head-spinningly constricted by his inexorable mass. In contrast, her own body and strength were no match. But the extra contact, the increased force did bring her closer, more connected to that entrancing, primordial thrum.

Thrum. The ancient string being plucked inside him, the prehistoric hand pounding out an irresistible beat on the cured, stretched hide of a long-dead animal, sang to her, sang a timeless song of attraction and arousal. Of deepest instincts guaranteeing survival of the species.

Thrum. His body was crying out its desire, a need growing desperate, to climax, to pump her full of eager fertile seed.

Thrum! Her own body joined the song, a new, sharp vibration filling her, a discordant harmony. The two sang together, weaving a tune that that no trained composer would recognize as music unless they too listened only to nature's timeless cry, beyond the limits of notes and chords and rules.

Tension swirled deep inside her, coalescing, fed by the twin streams radiating down her spine and up her arms.

The power in her dance, in her undulating hips, was obvious as his eyes lost focus, beginning to roll back. Her fingers dragged over both his vulnerable, responsive nipples. His kryptonite. Eyes shot open, stretched wide, in focus again but locked beyond her, on an unseen infinity. He cried out, harsh and throaty as his own hips shoved upward, hard.

Caught off guard by the force of his thrust, lifting her, Cheryl toppled forward even as she felt his first pumping blast inside her.

His powerful arms seized her as she fell onto him. One cinched their middles together, impaling her deep as he pumped up into her again and again, the other crushing her top to his chest. Her breath escaped in surprise, and his embrace resisted any immediate attempt to reclaim the lost air.

That was all it took for the maelstrom of tension in her lowest belly to release, completely, overwhelming conscious thought and vision as his seed, his own irresistible release continued to fill her. Brightness stole her sight, a soundless roar, hearing. She floated, adrift, both completely alone and infinitely connected.

Her next rational moment brought her soft kisses along her temple as arms still held her, now soothing, gentle, reassuring. Her breaths were beginning to slow, catching up to her body's need for oxygen. Hands stroked through her hair, over her bare back. Cheryl let consciousness go again, trusting this young miracle, this hero who somehow fell from his world into hers, to keep her safe.