Older Woman's Whoring, Younger Man's Delight (Patreon)

Carol Danvers needed cock. Fuck, she really needed cock. It had been four days since that little shit Mordred had cast his damn spell. She, and every other female with a pulse, had gotten hornier. Men had lost all libido. But boys—or at least teenagers—still had a sex drive. So whatever point Mordred had been trying to make, he could enjoy laughing about it from behind bars. It’d still been a week and a half since Carol had last felt inches of hard, hot dick fucking into her.

Christ, fucking Christ, it couldn’t have been that long ago! How in the world had she ever gone so long without fucking? She wasn’t even on the rag…

The incessant itch continued between her legs. What was she supposed to do about it? Finger herself, pretending it was a good-sized cock doing that and not her own hand? Shit, any woman knew there was no comparison, especially not now. Just remembering getting fucked, thinking about a cock going into her pussy, was nearly enough to get her off…

She tried anyway, delving between her thighs, finding her cunt really wet, swollen, her clit hard as could be imagined. God, she needed a fuck, a real cock, a real cock giving her pussy a solid reaming all night long.

What the hell to do?

Carol forced herself to stop masturbating, which was pretty easy despite how horny she was. She was frustrated over how unsatisfying it was anyway. She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Tony, hey, I know you’re not as interested as you used to be in the F-word, but if I don’t get some good goddamn fucking soon, I’ll go crazy. We can do whatever you want, Tony. In my mouth, in my ass, wherever you want to put it. You can even wear the suit. You know? With the attachments?”

“Carol, this isn’t a good time,” Tony replied, sounding distracted. Distracted! While she was offering herself up on a silver platter for whatever he was into! “I’ve actually been getting a lot of work done lately. Reed’s come up with this great experiment…”

“Experiment with me!” Carol cried before slamming down the phone, knowing he was a lost cause.

It was a Saturday night, Carol was turned on, and the biggest slut in the world had just refused a backstage pass to use her body.

She dialed again. Bruce Wayne’s private number. She knew he was a brooder, but it was always the quiet ones, wasn’t it? She went straight to voice mail. Carol was so desperate, she didn’t even bother with a preamble.

“Fuck me!” she blurted out. “I know you’re doing your vampire thing somewhere—get your ass out of that cape, come over to my apartment, and fuck me! I’m dying for some prick. I’ll go crazy if somebody doesn’t bang me. Now are you going to do it or do I have to get one of your sidekicks?”

If he was listening, he didn’t make any move to answer. The machine just kept recording. Carol growled and hung up.

“Fuck! This is goddamn insane! I wanna get laid and nobody’s interested! Fucking shit motherfuckers!”

She went to the bedroom and stripped off her clothing. She stared at the mirror, trying to imagine her naked reflection from a man’s point of view. Her proud breasts were right on the sweet spot, just on the verge of being oversized, made to be fondled—firm and high on her chest. Her nipples were hard, begging to be sucked.

No, she wasn’t some ugly hag. She had the body of a sorority girl, flexibility of a cheerleader, musculature of a fitness trainer. Carol spun around, looked over her shoulder at the luscious swell of her ass. It matched her chest, nearly too big even for her muscular frame, but curving just under the limit of being oversized. She was Amazonian, not some rubber-inflated stripper. Guys liked Amazons, didn’t they? At least, they liked big asses like hers.

All the guys she’d ever been with had wanted a shot at anal sex, trying out the big, bulging curves that bottomed out her leotard. She had thick, toned thighs and that evened out the wagon she was dragging. Every guy she was with, at the least the brave ones, told her that she had the best ass they’d ever seen.

Carol frowned. Maybe they didn’t mean it. Could it be that was just a figure of speech? Like “Carol’s the best suck in the city.” Or “Carol’s the best fuck there is.” Maybe they just said those things to butter her up.

Carol studied her ass in the mirror. She clenched her buttocks, convincing herself that she did have a nice ass, right in the Goldilocks zone between being fat and firm. Not so small as to be flat, but not so big as to be fleshy. Yes, you didn’t wear a costume like hers unless you had one hell of an ass, and Carol knew her confidence was well-placed.

Now that she was admiring herself in the mirror, Carol redoubled her certainty that she’d get laid. On a planet of several billion people—including Kree, Skrulls, mutants, Inhumans, Deviants, Eternals, and the odd Kryptonian—half the population was male. They couldn’t all be dead below the waist, just like they couldn’t all be gay or married.

Carol told herself she would try again, this time with a less aggressive approach. She’d had that trouble before, being too aggressive. She picked up her cell phone instead of the landline, lay back in the bed, and spread her legs as if to send the vibe of her louche sexuality to whatever cell phone tower was taking her call.

“Hello, can I talk to Matt Murdock please?”

She moved her hand down over her body and into the moist warmth of her cunt. It was slick with juices, slurping wetly with every motion she made in it.

“Hello, Matt?” Carol said sweetly. “This is Carol Danvers.”

“Hello, Carol. I’m pretty busy with legal briefs at the moment, so excuse me if I sound distracted. What can I do for you? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Yes, I am, Matt darling. Can you come over and help me out?”

“Not at the moment, Carol, not unless it’s serious. The church social is tonight. The whole congregation will be there.”

“It won’t take long to help me. Here, listen to how bad my problem is.”

Carol placed her cell phone between her thighs and rubbed it into her labia, sending her need for cock all the way up to whatever satellite then beamed it down to Matt’s ear.

“Carol? Are you there? Carol, can you hear me?” she heard Matt’s voice trilling out from between her thighs. Carol put the phone to her ear again.

“Did you hear my problem, baby?”

“I’m not sure? What was that noise?”

“That was my pussy, Matt baby. And it has a problem. It needs to be full—real bad. Wanna hear it again?”

Carol heard Matt inhale.

“That does sound like a problem… I mean, this acting out and… general behavior outside of marriage. As I said, I’m really tied up with the church social at the moment. Why don’t you see me tomorrow? We can pray over your condition—“

“Goddamn you, shitty son of a bitch! Didn’t you hear how much I needed to be fucked? I’m hot! I want cock!”

“Now, Carol, there’s no need to get hysterical…”

“Go to Hell, altar boy. That’s the last time that I’ll ever ask you to fuck me!”

“Well, I certainly hope so. That’s just not proper behavior for a godly woman…”

Carol squeezed the phone until it broke into debris in her hand. It felt a lot better than pushing a little button to shut Matt up.

Then Carol realized that she’d struck out. She’d called upon the biggest playboys and cocksmen she knew and failed to get so much as a dick pic. Well, she wasn’t giving up. She was going to get laid if she had to go outside, grab the first man she saw, and assume the position.

She slithered into a tight little minidress: no bra, no panties. Perfume was dabbed behind her ears, between her breasts, under her arms, and down there… no, scratch down there. Her cunt smelled good enough already. She grabbed her purse and started angrily for the door, nearly pulling it off its hinges when she got there.

A boy stood there, his finger waiting to push the doorbell.

“Oh, hello. Miss Danvers, right? I came to collect for the paper. I’ve missed you every night this week. I’m sure glad you’re here now!”

So am I, Carol thought, staring at the boy. He looked delectable, just shy of baby fat, with the first rangy stirrings of manhood well under way. Not so far gone into high school and locker room talk and chasing tail, but definitely old enough. Hell, Carol had lost her virginity to a sixteen-year-old boy. Maybe she should return the favor. Or show him how it was done…

Well, she had told herself that she’d be assuming the position for the first swinging cock she saw. But a teenager? What if he thought she was too old for him? But then there was that itch between her legs. She’d gotten nowhere with the three biggest players she knew. Carol just had to get some satisfaction, no matter where it came from.

She gave the boy a big smile. “Why don’t you come in?” she asked him.

Before she could answer, she had her arm around his shoulders and was leading him inside, her foot kicking the door shut behind them. She made sure her breast was pressed up against his arm.

“Grab a seat while I write out a check.”

He sat down on the edge of her couch. Carol sat down in an easy chair across from it. She took her checkbook out of her purse.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Billy.”

“No last name? Like Cher?”

“Billy Batson, miss.”

Carol studied Billy as he looked around the room nervously. He was tall for his years, lanky, with dark hair and big, too-curious eyes. He seemed like he took more than a casual interest in Carol’s bare legs, although he wasn’t trying to be too obvious.

“How much do I owe you, Billy Batson?”

“Twenty dollars for the month, Miss Danvers.” Billy looked at Carol and noticed her breasts. No man could not notice her breasts. Not when she was thrusting her chest out, her lungs full of a deep, deep breath.

Carol smiled at Billy and leaned back in her chair, her checkbook in hand. She exhaled, but as she did, she opened her legs, wondering how far up her dress young Billy could see from where he was.

Billy’s jaw dropped in awe. He could see enough to know Carol wasn’t wearing any panties. He’d never seen that far up between a girl’s legs before, unless you counted movies, and he’d never looked then… not until recently.

It’d just seemed wrong, like he was taking advantage of those actresses who didn’t know where he was looking—but lately, it was getting so he thought they wanted him to look at them. Why else would they be arranging themselves for the camera like Carol was arranging herself for him?

Billy’s brow beaded with sweat and he pumped his heel nervously. He wondered what he’d see if she’d spread her legs just another few couple of inches…

As Carol wrote in her checkbook, she opened her legs further. Her dress inched higher. Billy sucked in breath, then quickly snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t want her to hear him, except maybe for the fevered thoughts filling his brain. Oh please, Miss Danvers, open just a little more. I can see some of the hair down there—there’s hair down there—but I can’t see the—oh wow, there it is! I can see it!

Slyly, Carol looked over the top of her checkbook, still pretending to write. She watched Billy squirm and was amazed by how turned on it made her to see him looking so aroused. She got the feeling that if he were Matt and Tony’s age, all she’d have to do was text him and he’d be right over.

“Oh, hell, Billy, I signed my name wrong. So silly of me—you’d think I’d be used to it.” Then again, if he knew how many times she’d had amnesia… “I know you must be busy, but wait just a minute… I’ll write out another check to you.”

“T-that’s okay, Miss Danvers, I’m not busy at all. Not too busy for you, I mean…”

Carol smiled at him, then tore up the check. She wrote again, this time with her legs as far apart as a man’s on the subway.

Oh gosh, Billy burned, feeling like his sweat was sweating. Gosh! Gosh! I can see everything! Holy moly!

Billy sat up straighter. His fingers trembled. His palms were slick with sweat. His erection throbbed against his zipper so hard that it pained him. He turned, putting his body at an angle to Carol, hoping she wouldn’t see the bulge if it wasn’t facing her head-on. But what he needed to move was it, get it out of his pantleg so that it was pointed up his belly. Then his baggy shirt could cover it. Carol would be none the wiser.