Savage Land Sex Work 4 (Patreon)

Scott kept mouthing her tits while Emma squeezed them, but they were heaving so hard, with nipples so stiffly erect, that they seemed to go right into Scott’s lips without any help from Emma.

Rogue’s chest throbbed and billowed and she swooned, feeling Scott’s saliva mark them with his love like some fitting primitive tribal paint. She didn’t know how she’d go back to having her breasts be dry and untouched and unencumbered once she knew they could feel this way.

Her head leaned back; Emma’s mouth fell hotly on it. Scott joined them, his tongue with both of theirs, his mouth pressing to one set of woman’s lips and then the other.

Rogue had other people’s tongues in her mouth, feeling the familiar insides of her cheeks and lips, made alien by the touch of another tongue stealing inside her private recess. But she liked it. She liked the unabashedly sexual penetration as much as her cunt did, humming around Scott’s rutting cock. Body squirming between him and Emma like she couldn’t decide whose flesh she wanted to touch more.

Rogue reached up to Emma’s hair, twining her fingers in that soft, golden, beautiful, perfect hair that Emma has bribed God to have actually growing out of her scalp. While Rogue’s other arm was around Scott’s back, holding him close as he kissed her, as he pumped inside her with his demanding cock.

“My turn,” Rogue heard Emma simmer. “I want you to give it to me, Scott. I want to feel that sweet dick inside me like she’s feeling it in her and I want her to remember what it feels like and I want her to know that I’m getting it while she watches!”

All while Emma flashed a loving, no-hard-feelings grin at Rogue.

Had Rogue come already? She couldn’t be sure. Once the apprehension had fled, the whole fuck had felt like one long orgasm. But Emma was ever so slightly too professional to leave Rogue hanging with the stakes what they were, so she must’ve and now Rogue was back to normal and didn’t need to be getting fucked, fucked by Scott, fucked by Emma—she just wanted to. Too much to care about anything but more.

“No!” Rogue cried, the vehement loudness of the word shocking her. Yet she stayed at that strident volume. “Don’t stop! Keep going, Scott, keep fucking me!”

Scott only smiled, amused and reassuring and promising her something that Rogue was slightly afraid to contemplate. That she could do this again. That, if she really wanted this, he would see to it that she was once more as orgasmically pleased as she was right now. Then…

“YESSS!” Rogue screamed as the first of his thick, scalding load flowed like a river of lava into her rippling sex.

Emma mock-pouted happily as she watched them go over the edge, saw the backwash of Scott’s cum splashing out of Rogue’s pussy and run down her firm little thighs. She’d wanted that cream for herself, but she’d also wanted Rogue to be Scott’s bitch, at least for a moment. And looking at Rogue’s eyes-crossed, jaw-dangling expression, it was clear that Emma would have the Southerner’s envy for as long as she was Scott’s cock-holster.

Which she intended to be for a good long time. Til death, she might say, if that weren’t a short and abstract interval for an X-Man.

Scott eased himself out of Rogue. The contrast between her earlier exuberance and her present denial was almost comical. “No-no-no-no-no,” she repeated, reaching down to grab him, to take him back inside herself.

Scott was resolute. His warning gaze forbid her from tightening her grip and so he slipped right out of her fingers as she didn’t dare to cross the line from willfulness to disobedience.

Emma recognized that cock-drunk, pleased-as-punch state and couldn’t say she wouldn’t prefer to be in it rather than getting Rogue’s envy, as nice as envy was as a silver medal.

Rogue’s thighs clutched possessively on Scott, a reflex action, not a willful act. He easily broke their grip, because even though Rogue had more strength than him, she didn’t have the will and he did.

He got up to his feet, his lengthy erection lancing out from his groin. Rogue stared at it, breathing hard, licking her lips whether she knew it or not.

Emma picked herself up to, onto her knees—above Rogue, but still below Scott, kneeling to him in fact, even as she took hold of his prick. It was still hard. Rogue could feel its emission warm and wet inside herself but even as fucked out as she was, she couldn’t see that his dick had gotten any smaller than when he put it in her.

“Always giving me what I want,” Emma tittered up at Scott. “And dripping wet, too! My, Rogue, did you come all over this big dick? You did, didn’t you? I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself. You must be so happy for me that I get to take this to the hilt every night!”

Emma let go of his cock and bowed to it, smiling with unabashed superiority. She stuck out her tongue and flicked it up and down on Scott’s cockhead, licking playfully as his erection changed directions. Then she leaned in and kissed the purple knob. Rogue saw it quiver.

All of Scott’s prick was dripping, whether it was with his cum, her own juices, or Emma’s saliva. And now the blonde ran out her long hot tongue and moved it over the blue-veined member. Gathering up droplets of sticky semen that otherwise would’ve dripped away into oblivion; Rogue saw her swallow deliciously, moaning as the cream was washed down her throat.

“Oh, Rogue,” she moaned, speaking only between the slurps of her lips sucking at Scott’s slimy manhood. “It seems so unfair that Scott has such a big prick and then his cum tastes so good too. An embarrassment of riches. Because after he finishes fucking me, I clean his cock off in my mouth. It always tastes so good fresh from my cunt. But not as good as a second round.” She chanted: “Come, Scott, come. Watch me suck your cock. I know you’ve got more cum for me. Give it to me, Scott, give it to me like you gave it to Rogue!”

Scott looked at Rogue, watching them, and that was what it took. Never taking his eyes from the Southern belle’s, he roared bullishly and slung his hips forward. Emma gagged as she got his cum like she was mouthing Old Faithful.

And Rogue watched, forced to admit that as much of a cunt as Emma was for stealing Scott away in the middle of her multiple orgasms, it was still incredibly arousing to see him ravage Emma’s mouth like it was his own personal cum dumpster. The lucky bitch.

But as much as she pretended to be a goddess, Emma couldn’t get everything she wanted. Now that he’d had his pick-me-up, Scott pulled himself away from her and went to retrieve his shorts. “That’ll do for all three of us. Rogue, feel free to take it easy. Emma, I need you making the rounds again. Male X-Men only. I’ll see to the women.”

“I’ll bet you will.” Emma winked cattily at Rogue, who found herself blushing—for once, feeling in on the orgiastic joke that was Emma’s life.

“We can’t rest on our laurels. If there’s no one who needs assistance, we’ll link back up and you can feel free to be as bicurious as you want. Until then, let’s put our resources where they’ll do the most good.”

“Yes, dear,” Emma sighed. “Rogue, I’d give you my number, but we do live in the same building. Food for thought, wouldn’t you say?”

***

Seeing Kurt, Emma felt aggravatedly feminist about how fortunate the male gender tended to be when it came to Savage Land crash landings. As if it weren’t enough that his entire body was covered with fine, blue-black hair that managed the fluffy softness of a well-cared-for kitten, his costume had only lost its top.

From the waist up, his bare arms and exposed chest bespoke his wiry fitness. The fur adhered so tightly to his limber, compact musculature that he appeared absurdly chiseled—all the more so because the humidity had made him sweat, glossing and further darkening his hair as well as making it adhere moistly to his cut abs, pecs, and biceps.

Not that Emma minded going naked—in fact, it was a nice change of pace for her—but she’d met anthropomorphic personifications of the Universe, Justice, Time and Space… she had no doubt there was some Norse god or Greek hero in charge of superhero clothing in these situations and the git was an absolute pervert, reducing women to nipple tassels and thongs while men just went sleeveless.

What she wouldn’t give to see Piotr parading around as nature intended, or Remy in no more than the average Chippendale’s dancer wore.

Oh well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and since Emma’s home team was the fairer sex, she had to take pride in just how good they looked in their Tarzan-brand bikinis.

Not that Kurt was appreciating this most casual of Casual Fridays. He was staring off into space, eyes wide and blank, clearly falling prey to Zaladane’s machinations. And that just wouldn’t do. Emma simply had to fuck him.

Emma had heard certain stereotypes about black men and confirmed that there was a grain of truth to them, in some lucky cases, though she had ‘gone back’. But she wondered what blue men were like in bed. Kurt usually struck her as the kind of cheerful, confident fellow who would make for a very satisfying lover. She hoped he lived up to her expectations.

After all, you had to be a pretty good cocksman if you had your adopted sister wanting to jump your bones…

“Kuuuurt,” she crooned, coming up to him and ruffling her hand through his hair—that on top of his head at least. “Oh Kurt… I do believe it’s time to take your medicine.”

Kurt came out of his fugue state, saw her and her closeness and her nudity, and Emma didn’t have to look down to know that he was sporting an erection already. Kurt knew a good thing when he saw it. Or a bad, bad thing.

“Oh… unglaublich… sorry, junge Frau, I suppose I am in need of a helping hand, ja?”

“Oh, ja,” Emma echoed with a nod.