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GLLLRRK–squirt–SHLLLKKK. The sound of Jennifer Walters’ green fist twisting inside a jar of organic coconut oil echoed off the marble walls of her corner office. She scooped a generous glob—schlorp—and let it melt against her palm, the slick warmth sliding between her fingers. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Los Angeles skyline glittered with late-afternoon sun, but her attention was fixed on the woman bent over her mahogany desk. Helen Parr. Elastigirl. A fucking whore.
And right now, a very married mother of three with her red-and-black Incredibles bodysuit peeled down to midthigh, exposing an ass that shouldn’t be physically possible on a woman her age. That bodysuit clung to every ridiculous curve—the dramatic inward sweep of her waist, the explosive flare of hips that had carried three super-babies and somehow come out looking like that. Cellulite dimpled the undersides of her cheeks, those thick banana rolls that made Jennifer’s green mouth water. Stretch marks traced silver lightning bolts across the swell of her thighs. “You gonna stare all day, counselor, or you gonna fuck me?” Helen’s voice came out muffled, her cheek pressed flat against a stack of deposition transcripts.
Her brown eyes—visible in the reflection of Jennifer’s computer monitor—glittered with something between challenge and desperation. “Bob’s gonna be home at seven. I told him I had a Mommy-and-Me yoga class.” SCCCCRRRKKK. The slick sound of oiled green fingers spreading apart Helen’s ass cheeks. “A yoga class,” Jennifer purred, her voice dropping into that register that made juries squirm. “That’s adorable, Helen. Lying to Mr. Incredible so you can get your tight fucking ass stretched by a green-skinned lawyer with a dick bigger than his forearm.”
She leaned down, her massive frame eclipsing Helen’s bowed figure, and let her lips brush the shell of Helen’s ear. “Tell me. Does Bob even know you like getting fucked in the ass?” Helen’s breath hitched. A visible tremor ran through those magnificent flanks. “He—nnngh—he doesn’t… he wouldn’t understand.”
“No,” Jennifer agreed, straightening up. “He wouldn’t.” Schlup. Schlup. Schluuuup. Three oiled fingers worked into Helen’s puckered asshole, spreading her open. “Because Bob Parr doesn’t know his wife has a slutty little hole back here that gets so goddamn wet.” She pulled her fingers out—pop—and held them up, displaying the glistening strings of anal juice that bridged the gap between her digits and Helen’s hole. “Look at this. Fucking look at it.” Helen whimpered. “I asked you to look, Elastigirl.” Jennifer’s voice sharpened.
“Stop hiding your face in my paperwork and look at yourself.” Slowly, Helen turned her head. Her cheek lifted from the transcripts, leaving a smear of sweat and smudged mascara on the deposition of Rogers v. Stark Industries. Her brown eyes tracked to the mirror mounted on the office wall—the one Jennifer had positioned specifically for moments like this. The woman staring back at her was unrecognizable. Helen Parr: superhero, mother, faithful wife of fourteen years.
Except she wasn’t faithful now. She was bent over a lawyer’s desk—head down, ass up, high-heeled red boots planted on the Persian rug, her bodysuit bunched around her thighs like a sad accordion. Her massive breasts, still trapped in the suit’s reinforced cups, mashed against the desk. Her bubble ass jutted obscenely toward the ceiling, cheeks spread wide by Jennifer’s green hands. And between those cheeks, her glistening, oiled asshole winked at the mirror like a dirty secret.
“I look like a whore,” Helen breathed. “You look like a whore who needs a green gamma cock in her ass.” Jennifer hooked her thumb into the crotch of her own leotard—a purple-and-white number that hugged every shredded contour of her seven-foot frame—and pulled it aside. What sprang free made Helen’s eyes go wide. No pussy. Just cock. A thick, veined, terrifyingly long green shaft that curved slightly upward, the head already slick with pre-cum that GLISTENED like emerald syrup. Below it swung a heavy set of green balls, drawn tight against Jennifer’s muscular thighs. The futa anatomy that had come with her gamma transformation still took some getting used to, but Jennifer had long since stopped complaining. Especially on days like today. “You remember the safe word?” Jennifer asked, stepping between Helen’s spread legs. “Super-duper,” Helen managed, her voice cracking. “Good girl.”
SCHLUUUURK.
Jennifer pressed the head of her green cock against Helen’s oiled hole, not pushing in, just resting there. Letting Helen feel the weight of it. The heat. The throbbing pulse of gamma-irradiated blood through distended veins. “Now beg for it.” Helen’s fists clenched on the desk. Her knuckles went white. “Jennifer, please—” “Please what?” Squish. The head pressed harder. Not entering. Just threatening. “Please fuck my ass. Please. I need your cock in me, I’ve been thinking about it all fucking week, I can’t—” Helen’s voice dissolved into a gasp as Jennifer pushed forward.
SSSCCCHHHHLLLOOOORRRRP. The sound of that thick green cock sinking into Helen’s impossibly tight, impossibly stretchy asshole filled the office like a gunshot. Helen’s mouth dropped open, a soundless scream caught in her throat. Her puffy, drenched pussy—visible just below where Jennifer’s shaft disappeared into her—clenched reflexively, a fresh gush of cunt juice spattering the transcripts beneath her. “Fuuuuuuuck,” Jennifer groaned, her green lips curling back from her teeth. Even with all the prep, Helen’s ass gripped her cock like a goddamn fist.
The woman’s stretchy physiology meant her hole expanded to accommodate the invasion, but it also meant her muscles contracted with superhuman strength, massaging every inch of Jennifer’s shaft in rhythmic, rolling waves. “Your fucking asshole is milking my cock and I’m not even moving yet.” Helen could only make a sound like “MMMNNNNGPHH.” Jennifer pulled back—schllllk—until just the head remained inside, that tight ring of Helen’s sphincter clinging to her glans like a desperate mouth. Then she slammed forward—SCHLUUMP—burying herself balls-deep in one brutal thrust. “OH FUCK!” Helen shrieked, her elastic body absorbing the impact, her ass cheeks rippling from the collision with Jennifer’s green hips. The CLAP of muscle against muscle bounced off the office walls. Coffee sloshed in Jennifer’s “World’s Okayest Lawyer” mug. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—” “There it is.” Jennifer grabbed Helen’s hips—those glorious childbearing hips, those fucking handles of pure maternal MILF meat—and started pounding. Not gentle. Not exploratory. This was a test run, after all. She needed to see what that stretchy pussy could take, and the answer was apparently everything.
SCHLUMP. SCHLUMP. SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP.
Each thrust drove Helen forward, her breasts squishing against the desk, her cheek grinding into the deposition. Her moans became a continuous stream of noise—uh-uh-uh-uh-uh—punctuated by the wet percussion of Jennifer’s balls slapping against her soaked cunt lips. Anal juice frothed around the base of Jennifer’s cock, turning into a creamy, green-tinged ring that grew thicker with every stroke. “Look at yourself,” Jennifer growled, tangling one hand in Helen’s brunette hair and yanking her head up so she faced the mirror. “Look at what you fucking are now.” Helen’s reflection was a wreck. Mascara streaked down her cheeks.
Spit glistened on her chin. Her half-lidded eyes were glassy with pleasure, and her open mouth let out a continuous, breathy moan that rose in pitch as Jennifer’s pace increased. Her body bounced in rhythm with the fucking—breasts swinging beneath her in pendulous arcs, ass cheeks jiggling and clapping together with each impact, sending ripples through the generous cellulite-dimpled flesh. “I’m a—I’m a cheating wife,” Helen panted, her voice juddering with each thrust. “I’m getting fucked in the ass by a green futa lawyer and I—GLLLRK—I fucking love it, I love your cock in my ass, I love how nasty it feels, I love the way it sounds—SCHLUUUMP—like that, just like that, oh god—” “Yeah?” Jennifer’s voice was ragged now, her own composure cracking. The sight of Elastigirl—the Elastigirl, the superhero who’d saved the world a dozen times over—bent over her desk, babbling about how much she loved anal, was doing things to her brain. “You love getting ass-fucked by a freak? A gamma mutant with a dick where her pussy should be?”
SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP.
“YES!” Helen screamed, her elastic body stretching to accommodate Jennifer’s increasingly frantic thrusts, her asshole gripping and releasing and gripping again, that tight ring of muscle clinging to every vein and ridge of Jennifer’s shaft. “You’re not a freak, you’re perfect, your cock is perfect, it’s stretching me so fucking good, I can feel it in my stomach, I can feel your balls on my clit, I’m gonna fucking come, Jennifer, I’m gonna—” Jennifer’s hand shot down and grabbed a handful of Helen’s jiggling ass, fingers sinking into the plush, cellulite-studded fat. “Not yet. Not fucking yet. I didn’t tell you to come.” A strangled sob tore from Helen’s throat. Her knuckles were white on the edge of the desk. Her whole body trembled, sweat sheening her curves, her bodysuit soaked through, her pubic hair—a dark, untrimmed thatch visible at the edge of the suit’s crotch—matted with her own juices. SPLORCH. SPLORTCH. SSSCCCHHHHLLLKKK.
The sounds coming from Helen’s ass were pornographic. Wet. Sloshing. The coconut oil had long since mixed with her natural lubrication, and now every thrust produced a symphony of obscene squelches that made Jennifer’s green toes curl inside her boots. “Please,” Helen whispered. “Please let me come on your cock. Please, I need it, I’ll do anything, I’ll tell Bob, I’ll tell him his wife belongs to She-Hulk now, I’ll tell him I need green cock in my ass every day, please please please—” Jennifer’s rhythm faltered. Her balls drew tight. The base of her spine went electric. “Then fucking come, you dirty cheating superhero slut.” Helen’s orgasm detonated.
Helen’s orgasm hadn’t finished ripping through her before Jennifer pulled out.
SCHLLLURRRRP-POP.
The sudden emptiness made Helen cry out—a desperate, gutted sound that splattered against the deposition transcripts still glued to her cheek. Her asshole gaped for a long, obscene second, a green-tinged tunnel of stretched muscle before it clenched shut with a wet squeeeelk. Strings of anal juice and coconut oil bridged the space between her retreating hole and Jennifer’s withdrawing cock, snapping one by one as the distance grew.
“Up,” Jennifer commanded, her voice still ragged but recovering that courtroom edge. “On your knees.”
Helen’s legs gave out as she tried to stand. Her high-heeled boots skidded on the Persian rug, and she went down hard— thump —knees hitting the floor with a grunt. Her bodysuit, still bunched around her thighs, made a sad accordion sound as she shuffled to face Jennifer. The fabric strained against her massive breasts with every heaving breath, the reinforced cups barely containing the flushed, sweat-sheened flesh.
“Look at you,” Jennifer breathed, stepping closer. Her green cock bobbed at eye level, still slick with Helen’s anal juices, still throbbing, still achingly hard. A thick pearl of pre-cum beaded at the slit— glistened —then dripped in a slow, syrupy string that splashed against Helen’s cheek. “Elastigirl on her knees. The woman who saved Metroville from the Omnidroid. The mother of three. And you’re looking at my cock like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat.”
Helen’s tongue darted out. Swiped at the smear of pre-cum on her cheek.
Slllrrrp.
Salty. Bitter. Gamma-tinged. Something electric buzzed at the back of her throat.
“I want it,” she heard herself say. Her voice didn’t sound like her own anymore—it was raw, scraped out, reduced to a husky rasp. “I want to suck your cock, Jennifer. I want you to fuck my face until I can’t breathe.”
Jennifer’s green lips curled. That lipstick—that goddamn emerald lipstick she wore like warpaint—cracked at the corners with the width of her grin. “The sofa. Now.”
She didn’t help Helen up. Made her crawl.
Sschff. Sschff. Sschff. Helen’s knees dragged across the Persian rug, her bodysuit still tangled around her thighs, her ass—that magnificent, cellulite-dimpled, still-leaking ass—jiggling with every shuffling movement. She crawled past Jennifer’s desk, past the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a Los Angeles sunset bleeding orange and pink across the sky, until she reached the leather sofa against the far wall.
“Face up. Head hanging off the edge.”
Helen scrambled to obey. She stretched herself across the sofa—back flat against the cool leather, her sweat-soaked bodysuit squeaking against the cushions, her head dropping backward over the armrest. The position inverted her vision: the ceiling swam above her, and then Jennifer’s seven-foot frame filled it entirely, those muscular green thighs bracketing Helen’s upside-down face, that heavy cock swinging directly above her open mouth.
“You understand how this works?” Jennifer asked, one hand wrapping around her shaft. She tapped the head against Helen’s lips— thwack, thwack —soft little impacts that left smears of pre-cum across the bow of Helen’s mouth. “I’m going to fuck your throat. You’re going to take it. If you need to stop, you tap my thigh three times. The safe word doesn’t work when your mouth is full.”
Helen nodded. Opened her mouth.
Wide.
Tongue out.
Waiting.
“Good fucking girl.”
Jennifer didn’t ease in. Didn’t tease. She grabbed Helen’s forehead with one hand—fingers sinking into that sweat-damp brunette hair—and thrust.
GLLLRRK.
The sound of green cock forcing its way past Helen’s lips, past her tongue, slamming against the back of her throat with brutal suddenness. Helen’s eyes flew open. Her throat convulsed. A gag reflex— hurk —that made her entire body spasm, her massive breasts heaving inside their bodysuit cups, her thighs clenching around nothing.
“There it is,” Jennifer groaned, pulling back just enough to let Helen gasp— haaaah —before thrusting forward again. GLLLRK. “That’s the sound I wanted. That filthy fucking gag. Does Bob ever hear you make that sound, Helen? Does your husband ever shove his cock down your throat and listen to you choke?”
Helen couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Could only make sounds— glrk, hurk, mmmnnnph —as Jennifer’s cock sawed in and out of her stretched mouth, the head punching past her gag reflex with every thrust, driving deeper, deeper, filling her esophagus with green gamma meat.
Spit bubbled from the corners of her mouth. It frothed around Jennifer’s shaft, turned milky and thick, dripped in long strings down her inverted cheeks and into her hair. Her nose pressed against Jennifer’s balls on every deep thrust—those heavy green orbs that slapped against her forehead with a wet schlap-schlap-schlap.
“Look at me,” Jennifer ordered.
Helen’s brown eyes rolled upward. Met Jennifer’s gaze—that predatory, dominant stare that made Helen’s cunt clench even now, even with her mouth stretched obscenely around a futa cock.
“You’re going to swallow every drop I pump into this throat. Every. Fucking. Drop. Do you understand me?”
Helen tried to nod. Managed something approximating a jerk of her head around the cock filling her mouth.
GLLLRK-SCHLUMP-GLLLRK.
Jennifer’s rhythm intensified. She grabbed the back of the sofa with both hands now, using it as leverage to fuck Helen’s face with long, punishing strokes. Her hips pistoned, green muscles flexing, sweat sheening her seven-foot frame. The purple-and-white leotard she still technically wore had ridden so far to the side that it might as well not exist anymore.
SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.
Her balls smacked against Helen’s forehead and nose in wet percussion. Spit and pre-cum fountained from Helen’s stretched lips, splashing across her own face, pooling in her eye sockets, dripping into her ears. The sounds were obscene—a symphony of gags and squelches and wet impacts that filled the corner office and bounced off the windows overlooking Los Angeles.
“Your fucking throat,” Jennifer panted, her voice cracking, losing that courtroom composure, “is tighter than your ass. Tighter than your stretchy fucking superhero pussy. And you know what I love about it, Helen? Huh? You know what I fucking love?”
GLLLRK. GLLLRK. GLLLRK.
“Anyone could walk in. Anyone. The cleaning crew. My secretary who works late. Some fucking junior partner who forgot their briefcase. And they’d see Elastigirl— the Elastigirl—hanging upside down off my sofa with a green cock buried in her throat. Gagging on it. Loving it. BEGGING for it with your eyes, because you can’t fucking talk, can you? You can’t say a goddamn word with my dick stuffed down your neck.”
Tears streamed from Helen’s eyes now. Not from pain—or not only from pain. From the sheer overwhelming intensity of being used like this. From the knowledge that Jennifer was right. She was begging with her eyes. She was looking up at this seven-foot green futa lawyer and pleading, please please please don’t stop, choke me harder, fuck my face deeper, use me, destroy me—
“And Bob’s home right now,” Jennifer continued, her thrusts turning erratic, her balls drawing tighter, her shaft pulsing visibly even through Helen’s stretched lips. “Bob’s sitting on the couch watching TV. Waiting for his wife to come back from yoga. And his wife is here. His wife is hanging off my couch, getting her throat resized by gamma cock, and she’s about to swallow a load of green cum that’ll still be in her stomach when she kisses him goodnight. How’s that for a fucking yoga class, Helen? How’s that for Mommy-and-Me?”
Helen’s response was a strangled GLRRRRRRK that vibrated up the length of Jennifer’s shaft and straight into her balls.
That vibration.
That desperate, throaty, gagging vibration.
It was what pushed Jennifer over the edge.
“FUCK—” She slammed balls-deep and held there, Helen’s nose mashed against her pubic bone, Helen’s throat convulsing around the full length of green cock. “FUCK, HELEN, T-TAKE IT, SWALLOW IT, SWALLOW EVERY FUCKING—”
SPLOOOOOOORRRRCH.
The first pulse of cum shot directly down Helen’s throat, bypassing her tongue entirely. She felt it hit her stomach—hot, thick, alien—and her eyes rolled back in their sockets. The second pulse was just as forceful, a gushing torrent of green-tinged seed that flooded her esophagus and spilled backward into her nasal passages.
SCHLLLLLRRRRRP-SPLORTCH-GUSHHHHH.
Jennifer’s cock throbbed and pumped and emptied itself inside Helen’s throat, and the sounds coming from Helen’s neck were wet and gurgling and utterly pornographic. Cum leaked from her nostrils in twin green streams. It bubbled from the corners of her stretched lips, mixing with the spit and pre-cum already pooling in her eye sockets.
Jennifer held herself there—balls-deep, shuddering, grinding her pelvis against Helen’s inverted face—until the last pulse of orgasm had been milked out of her by Helen’s convulsing throat muscles. Then she pulled out with a single brutal motion.
SSSSCCCHHHHHLLLLLUUUURRRRRK-POP.
Helen gasped. Coughed. Spat a thick rope of green cum across her own tits.
Her face was a disaster zone. Mascara rivers carved through cheeks glazed with spit and seed. Green cum dripped from her chin, her nostrils, her hairline. Her brown eyes were glassy, unfocused, staring up at the ceiling like she’d just seen God and God had a green dick.
Jennifer grabbed a fistful of Helen’s bodysuit and hauled her upright. The motion was casual, effortless—She-Hulk strength manhandling a limp, cum-drunk MILF like she weighed nothing.
“You still with me?” Jennifer asked, her voice still husky but carrying a note of genuine check-in beneath the dominance.
Helen blinked. Green cum dripped from her left eyebrow. “Mmmnph.”
“Words, Elastigirl.”
“I’m… I’m here.” Helen’s voice came out like gravel. Raw. Ruined. “I’m so fucking here.”
Jennifer grinned. Leaned in. Kissed Helen hard—tasting her own cum on those superheroine lips, dragging her tongue across the salt-and-bitter residue coating Helen’s teeth.
When she pulled back, a string of green-tinged saliva connected their mouths.
“Good,” Jennifer said, wiping her lips with the back of her green hand. “Because I’m not done with you yet. And Bob’s not expecting you home for another two hours.”
Jennifer didn't give Helen time to recover.
One green hand fisted the front of that bunched-up bodysuit and yanked. Helen's body stretched—elastic tendons and super-flexible joints offering zero resistance—as Jennifer hauled her off the sofa and dragged her toward the desk. Helen's heels skidded across the Persian rug, her cum-glazed face still dazed, still dripping.
"Ride me," Jennifer growled, spinning them both around and dropping herself into the executive chair with a heavy thump. The leather groaned under her seven-foot frame. "I want that stretchy pussy squeezing my cock while you bounce on it like the cheating little superhero slut you are."
Helen blinked. A fresh dribble of green cum slid from her hairline and traced a path down her cheekbone. "My… my legs are still—"
"I didn't ask about your legs." Jennifer grabbed her own cock—still slick, still throbbing, still terrifyingly hard—and slapped it against her green belly with a wet thwack. "I told you to ride me. Now get on."
Something flickered in Helen's brown eyes. That desperate, insatiable hunger that had brought her here in the first place. She reached down, hooked her fingers into the crotch of her bunched bodysuit, and peeled the fabric aside. Her pussy came into view—swollen, puffy, drenched. Those thick outer lips glistened with a mixture of her own juices and the coconut oil that had dripped down from her ass. Her dark untrimmed bush was matted, soaked, clinging to her mound in damp curls.
"The bodysuit," Jennifer said, her voice dropping. "Take it off. All of it. I want to watch your tits bounce while you fuck yourself on my cock."
Helen's fingers trembled as she worked the suit down her hips, over her thighs, past her knees. The red-and-black fabric peeled away like a second skin, revealing the full glory of her body—the dramatic hourglass sweep of her waist, the generous flare of her childbearing hips, the silver stretch marks that traced lightning across her thighs, the cellulite dimpling the undersides of her ass cheeks like cottage cheese sculpted by a pornographer. Her breasts, finally freed from the reinforced cups, swung heavy and pendulous, nipples dark and hard and pointing slightly downward from their own magnificent weight.
She stepped out of the suit, leaving it in a puddle on the Persian rug. Her red boots stayed on.
"Fuck," Jennifer breathed. "You're the hottest MILF I've ever fucking seen. Now get on my cock. Now."
Helen moved. One boot planted on either side of Jennifer's hips, she straddled the chair, her thick thighs spreading wide. Jennifer's green cock jutted upward between them—veined, pulsing, the head already weeping fresh pre-cum that splattered against Helen's bush in a warm, sticky string.
"Guide it in," Jennifer ordered. "Let me watch."
Helen's delicate fingers wrapped around the shaft. The contrast was obscene—her pale, perfectly manicured hand against that thick green monster, barely able to close around it. She positioned the head against her entrance, that swollen glans pressing into her puffy cunt lips, spreading them, nestling against her clit for just a heartbeat before she angled it downward.
SCCCHHHHLLLLLUUUURRRRRP.
The sound of Helen's pussy swallowing Jennifer's cock was wetter than her ass had been. Sloppier. More obscene. Her slick vaginal walls parted around the intrusion with a desperate, sucking schlurp that made Jennifer's green toes curl inside her boots.
"Oh fuuuuuuck," Helen moaned, sinking down inch by inch, her elastic pussy stretching to accommodate Jennifer's girth with that same superhuman muscle control—gripping, releasing, massaging, milking. "Your cock is so fucking big, I can feel it in my stomach, I can feel it pushing against everything inside me—"
"Keep going. Take it all."
SCHLUMP.
Helen dropped the last two inches, burying Jennifer's cock balls-deep inside her stretchy cunt. Her head fell back, mouth open, a silent scream caught in her raw, abused throat. Her breasts heaved, sweat sheening the undersides. Her thighs trembled, the muscles jumping and twitching around Jennifer's green hips.
Jennifer didn't wait. Didn't let her adjust. She grabbed Helen's magnificent ass with both hands—fingers sinking into that plush, cellulite-dimpled flesh, gripping those banana rolls like handles—and thrust upward.
SCHLUMP.
"OH GOD!" Helen shrieked, her voice cracking.
SCHLUMP. SCHLUMP. SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP.
Jennifer pounded into her from below, hips pistoning, the office chair squealing beneath their combined weight. Her balls slapped against Helen's perineum with every thrust—schlap-schlap-schlap—that wet percussion mixing with the obscene squelch of Helen's drenched cunt. The sounds filled the office like a pornographic symphony, bouncing off the floor-to-ceiling windows that now reflected the orange blaze of a dying sun.
"Ride me," Jennifer growled. "Stop letting me do all the fucking work and ride my cock."
Helen's hands found Jennifer's shoulders. She braced herself and started moving—rolling her hips, grinding down to meet Jennifer's upward thrusts, her massive breasts swinging in pendulous arcs with every motion. Her ass bounced. Jiggled. Rippled. That thick, maternal rear end clapped against Jennifer's thighs with meaty thwacks that made the green lawyer groan.
"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, that's it. Bounce on my big green gamma cock like the nasty cheating wife you are."
"I'm n-nasty," Helen panted, her rhythm building, her hips rolling faster, her elastic cunt gripping and releasing in waves that made Jennifer see stars. "I'm a n-nasty fucking whore for your cock, Jennifer, I love cheating on Bob, I love lying to him, I love getting fucked by a green futa while he sits at home w-with the kids—GLRK—"
SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP-SCHLUMP.
Jennifer's hand came down on Helen's ass with a sharp CRACK. The sound was a gunshot. The impact sent ripples through that thick, cellulite-dimpled flesh, the red handprint blooming against Helen's pale skin like a brand.
"Say it again."
"I'M A CHEATING SLUT!" Helen screamed, her voice raw, ruined, bouncing in rhythm with the fucking. "I'M A NASTY FUCKING WHORE WHO LETS A GREEN FUTA LAWYER FUCK HER STRETCHY PUSSY WHILE HER HUSBAND WAITS AT HOME!"
CRACK. Another smack. The other cheek this time. Helen's ass jiggled and bounced, the sting driving her higher, her cunt clenching tighter, her juices frothing around the base of Jennifer's cock in a creamy white ring that grew thicker with every thrust.
"Who do you belong to?" Jennifer demanded, her own voice cracking, her composure shattering as Helen's pussy milked her with those superhuman elastic muscles.
"YOU! I belong to you, She-Hulk, I'm yours, my pussy is yours, my ass is yours, my fucking throat is yours—"
"Then fucking squirt for me. Drench my cock. Soak my balls. Make a goddamn mess of my office and then you can go home and kiss your husband with my cum still in your stomach."
Jennifer's hand left Helen's ass and found her clit—that swollen, neglected nub peeking out from beneath its hood. She pressed her green thumb against it. Ground hard.
Helen detonated.
SPLOOOOOOOOORRRRRTCH.
Not a trickle. Not a gush. A fucking eruption. Clear fluid sprayed from Helen's cunt in a pressurized jet, soaking Jennifer's abs, splashing across her purple-and-white leotard, pooling in her navel, dripping down her balls and onto the leather chair. The squirt came in pulses—splortch-splortch-splortch—each one wringing a desperate, keening wail from Helen's raw throat.
Jennifer didn't stop thrusting. She pounded up into Helen's convulsing cunt, riding the waves of that squirting orgasm, the wet schllllk-schluuuump-splortch of her cock sawing through Helen's spasming walls filling the room.
"Good girl," Jennifer panted, still fucking, still grinding, her own orgasm building at the base of her spine. "Good fucking girl, drench my cock, soak my fucking balls, make a mess—"
CRACK. One final smack on Helen's squirting, jiggling ass.
And then Jennifer pulled out.
SCHLLLURRRRP-POP.
Helen collapsed forward, her face burying in the crook of Jennifer's neck, her body still trembling through aftershocks. Pussy juice and squirt dripped from the chair, puddled on the Persian rug below. Her raw, stretched hole gaped for a long moment before clenching shut with a wet squeeeelk.
Jennifer wrapped her arms around Helen's trembling body. Held her. Let her shake.
"Two hours," Jennifer murmured against Helen's sweat-soaked hair. "Told you I'd use every minute."
Helen's laugh was broken, breathless, muffled against green skin. "Bob's gonna… gonna smell you on me."
"Then wash up before you leave." Jennifer's green lips curled. "My private bathroom's through that door. But leave the panties. I'm keeping them."