X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ Good Girls Don't Get Caught ❯ A fortunate accident. ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Author’s Note/Disclaimer:
Other than a few boxes of comic books…well, actually, more than a few…I own nothing of Marvel Comics or the X-Men. This is a work of adult fan fiction and is intended solely for entertainment purposes. No disrespect or copyright infringement is intended. I make no money off of this work.
This is a work of erotic fiction…or more bluntly, PWP. Each chapter will be a bit different and have a different pairing. Under no circumstances should this work be distributed to minors or those who are otherwise not legally permitted to view such works. Period.
While these are fictional characters and their ages are a bit fuzzy, please do assume that the youngest are of legal age by whatever standards your community uses. Where I live, the age of consent for both genders is sixteen.
Boring legal stuff out of the way? Good. Bring on the smut!
Warnings: For the work as a whole – Graphic male/female sex. Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, BDSM and fetish overtones, spanking. I’ll leave a little mystery as to the contents of individual chapters. Enjoy.
Chapter One: A fortunate accident.
My name is Jean. Most of the world knows me as the XMan, Marvel Girl. Among my team mates and friends I’m known by other names they wouldn’t say to my face: Miss Goody-two-shoes, Miss Priss, Miss Butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth and a few other choice aliases. That’s O.K. with me. After all my philosophy has always been simple. Good girls don’t get caught.
Well what have I done that would ruin my squeaky clean image? Wouldn’t you like to know…So I’m a tease, am I? You asked for it.
What about Scott? Oh, he’s the center of my world of course. Scott’s sweet, but he’s rather predictable and insists on treating me like a china doll. I’ve always been faithful to him…technically. No matter how “good” a girl is, she doesn’t stop looking, maybe even fantasizing. But when you’re both telepathic and telekinetic, sometimes the lines between fantasy and reality get a little…well…blurry.
The first time was truly accidental. I’ve always been in the habit of checking telepathically on all my teammates whenever I happen to wake in the night. I normally just touch their surface thoughts, only enough to determine whether they are dreaming and if it is a pleasant dream or some nightmare. Several times I have nipped a nightmare in the bud this way, with just a small telepathic intervention. On this night, I ran across something…a little different.
I’ll admit, I’ve always been curious about Logan. His thoughts about me have always been so unabashedly lustful. He’s so different from Scott. Maybe it’s just that that makes him so…enticing. This night, he was caught up in something intense enough to catch my attention. Curious, I gave a closer mental “look.” Without meaning to, I suddenly found myself drawn into the dream. Instantly, his dream reality filled my senses and overwhelmed my sense of self. My own body lying in my bed was just a memory.
I was a short, dark-haired and plump little waitress, with a short skirt and an even shorter top. I found myself swaggering from table to table in a smoky room filled with rough characters. I was swinging my hips and casting out winks and smiles at all my customers, working those tips as I took orders and handed out mugs of beer. My name was Sheila, at least that’s what the little nametag said. When I reached the table in the farthest corner, I leaned over to rest my elbows on the table, giving the lone man in front of me a very good look at what I had up front, while the rest of the room saw what was in back. The man in front of me gave an appreciative look, but only ordered a pitcher of beer.
I gave him one long look before I swaggered off. I liked what I saw. He was strong and well muscled, lots of hair on his chest. There was something wild about him that was both scary and intriguing. The part of me that remembered being Jean recognized him as Logan while wondering at Sheila’s lack of inhibitions. The part of me that was Sheila sauntered back towards the lone man’s table with a large pitcher of beer.
I never got there. Suddenly three drunks surrounded me. One grabbed for the beer, one for my tits and the other grabbed a handful of my ass. I yelped in surprise, then swung the pitcher at one of them. “Leave me alone!” I flailed wildly with the sloshing pitcher, dousing half the men at the bar with beer. One man grabbed the pitcher, another grabbed my arm and twisted it behind me.
“She said leave her alone.” Logan stood a few feet away, casually sipping beer from a mug. The men froze for a heartbeat, two, three…then the one holding my arm began to twist. I whimpered.
In a moment, bodies were flying everywhere, punches swinging too fast for me to follow. I ducked under a table to avoid heavy mugs and other debris from the fight. A few moments later the noise died down and I was staring at a single pair of boots from my spot under the table. The man squatted down, offering his hand to me. I took it, feeling the rough calluses and let him pull me out.
“You all right…ah…Sheila?” He paused to check my nametag.
“Yeah, I…I think so.” I looked around at the wreckage. Those patrons who were able were heading for the door.
“Looks like your shift is over, honey.” The man/Logan commented as he lit a cigar. I looked at the bartender and he waved me off.
“Guess so. I owe you one…Wanna come upstairs? I got a place over the bar.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder to point the way. My heart was thumping in my chest and my palms were sweaty as his gaze met mine. He knew exactly what I was asking.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s get outta here.” He let his hand rest at the small of my back as we headed for the stairs. I let my hips sway as I walked in front of him, knowing I was giving him a show. Soon we were walking through my door. I let him in, then turned to lock it.
I turned around and found him standing so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. He reached around me to put out his cigar in the ashtray behind me. I held my breath as he straightened and his heated gaze seemed to rake me from head to toes. I licked my lips nervously before moving a hair closer. Suddenly I was in his arms, crushed against his body as he pressed me back against the door. His kisses were rough and fierce. Jean and Scott were forgotten as I/Sheila opened my mouth to his probing tongue, running my hands across his hard muscled chest. His hands began to rove across my body, squeezing my ass in a grip just short of bruising, then running his hands along my sides to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples through the fabric of my blouse.
I moaned as he began to nibble at my neck. I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, wanting more. I heard his rumbling laugh as he stopped to help me. Then his hands slipped beneath the hem of my blouse, touching bare flesh, sending little electric shivers from the touch of his hands to my center. His touch was firm, almost too rough, but I loved it. I raked my nails down his now naked back. He growled, then grabbed the hem of my blouse and tugged it up and over my head, tossing it away. My lacy little bra soon followed. Impatient now, I began tugging at his belt. Chuckling, he caught my hands and before I knew it he had slung me across his shoulders. He carried me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed.
Instantly he was beside me, slipping my skirt and panties off my hips. I kicked them aside, along with my heels. He pulled me close in a powerful grip, his lips rough on mine as he pressed me for another of those searing kisses. I could feel his body pressing next to mine, his heavy dick pressing against my hip through his pants. Again I began to fumble with his belt. Laughing, he took over, shedding his jeans and boots without ever releasing me completely. Naked now, he pressed close, one hand squeezing my tits, pulling at my already hard nipples as his other hand traveled lower.
His hand was surprisingly gentle as it stroked across my clit and teased my already wet opening. I moaned into his demanding mouth, urging him on. Suddenly he plunged two fingers into my pussy, thumb rubbing firmly at my clit at the same time. His mouth trailed lower, nipping at my neck as I panted and writhed. His mouth claimed mine again, as if hungry. I panted into his mouth as my body shuddered in time with his relentless fingers. He pinched one nipple cruelly as I shrieked my orgasm into his hungry mouth.
I lay there panting a moment as he moved to kneel between my shaking legs. He grabbed both legs in his hands, lifting my hips, resting my calves against his chest. I nearly shrieked again as he plunged his swollen cock into my dripping pussy. He began thrusting hard in and out, leaning his weight over me, seemingly driving deeper with each thrust. I was moaning and writhing beneath him. I shuddered with another gut-wrenching orgasm, too winded to shriek this time. He never paused, driving on mercilessly. I could feel drops of his sweat falling on my tits and my face. I tasted it on my lips, salty and slightly bitter.
I could feel another peak building and I heard my voice calling his name. His breath was more ragged now, the rhythm of his thrusts more erratic. He pumped hard into me…once…twice…three times, grunting with effort now. He thrust one more time and I felt him twitch inside me as he shouted wordlessly, the sound seeming to set off another crashing wave of orgasm. He kept pumping as my orgasm crested, then withdrew, releasing me. Satiated and exhausted, I closed my eyes.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my own bed, alone. I was shaken and confused. I was Jean again, but my body felt languid, my panties soaked, my pussy aching as if the dream had been real. The memories of being Sheila and of Logan’s fierce fucking didn’t fade as dreams normally do.
What the hell just happened? How did I do that? Most importantly, could I do it again? I didn’t know the answers, but I sure as hell intended to find out. I’d never been fucked like that in my life! My mind whirled as I considered the possibilities. I would try again. Not tonight, but soon. Very soon.
Other than a few boxes of comic books…well, actually, more than a few…I own nothing of Marvel Comics or the X-Men. This is a work of adult fan fiction and is intended solely for entertainment purposes. No disrespect or copyright infringement is intended. I make no money off of this work.
This is a work of erotic fiction…or more bluntly, PWP. Each chapter will be a bit different and have a different pairing. Under no circumstances should this work be distributed to minors or those who are otherwise not legally permitted to view such works. Period.
While these are fictional characters and their ages are a bit fuzzy, please do assume that the youngest are of legal age by whatever standards your community uses. Where I live, the age of consent for both genders is sixteen.
Boring legal stuff out of the way? Good. Bring on the smut!
Warnings: For the work as a whole – Graphic male/female sex. Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, BDSM and fetish overtones, spanking. I’ll leave a little mystery as to the contents of individual chapters. Enjoy.
Chapter One: A fortunate accident.
My name is Jean. Most of the world knows me as the XMan, Marvel Girl. Among my team mates and friends I’m known by other names they wouldn’t say to my face: Miss Goody-two-shoes, Miss Priss, Miss Butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth and a few other choice aliases. That’s O.K. with me. After all my philosophy has always been simple. Good girls don’t get caught.
Well what have I done that would ruin my squeaky clean image? Wouldn’t you like to know…So I’m a tease, am I? You asked for it.
What about Scott? Oh, he’s the center of my world of course. Scott’s sweet, but he’s rather predictable and insists on treating me like a china doll. I’ve always been faithful to him…technically. No matter how “good” a girl is, she doesn’t stop looking, maybe even fantasizing. But when you’re both telepathic and telekinetic, sometimes the lines between fantasy and reality get a little…well…blurry.
The first time was truly accidental. I’ve always been in the habit of checking telepathically on all my teammates whenever I happen to wake in the night. I normally just touch their surface thoughts, only enough to determine whether they are dreaming and if it is a pleasant dream or some nightmare. Several times I have nipped a nightmare in the bud this way, with just a small telepathic intervention. On this night, I ran across something…a little different.
I’ll admit, I’ve always been curious about Logan. His thoughts about me have always been so unabashedly lustful. He’s so different from Scott. Maybe it’s just that that makes him so…enticing. This night, he was caught up in something intense enough to catch my attention. Curious, I gave a closer mental “look.” Without meaning to, I suddenly found myself drawn into the dream. Instantly, his dream reality filled my senses and overwhelmed my sense of self. My own body lying in my bed was just a memory.
I was a short, dark-haired and plump little waitress, with a short skirt and an even shorter top. I found myself swaggering from table to table in a smoky room filled with rough characters. I was swinging my hips and casting out winks and smiles at all my customers, working those tips as I took orders and handed out mugs of beer. My name was Sheila, at least that’s what the little nametag said. When I reached the table in the farthest corner, I leaned over to rest my elbows on the table, giving the lone man in front of me a very good look at what I had up front, while the rest of the room saw what was in back. The man in front of me gave an appreciative look, but only ordered a pitcher of beer.
I gave him one long look before I swaggered off. I liked what I saw. He was strong and well muscled, lots of hair on his chest. There was something wild about him that was both scary and intriguing. The part of me that remembered being Jean recognized him as Logan while wondering at Sheila’s lack of inhibitions. The part of me that was Sheila sauntered back towards the lone man’s table with a large pitcher of beer.
I never got there. Suddenly three drunks surrounded me. One grabbed for the beer, one for my tits and the other grabbed a handful of my ass. I yelped in surprise, then swung the pitcher at one of them. “Leave me alone!” I flailed wildly with the sloshing pitcher, dousing half the men at the bar with beer. One man grabbed the pitcher, another grabbed my arm and twisted it behind me.
“She said leave her alone.” Logan stood a few feet away, casually sipping beer from a mug. The men froze for a heartbeat, two, three…then the one holding my arm began to twist. I whimpered.
In a moment, bodies were flying everywhere, punches swinging too fast for me to follow. I ducked under a table to avoid heavy mugs and other debris from the fight. A few moments later the noise died down and I was staring at a single pair of boots from my spot under the table. The man squatted down, offering his hand to me. I took it, feeling the rough calluses and let him pull me out.
“You all right…ah…Sheila?” He paused to check my nametag.
“Yeah, I…I think so.” I looked around at the wreckage. Those patrons who were able were heading for the door.
“Looks like your shift is over, honey.” The man/Logan commented as he lit a cigar. I looked at the bartender and he waved me off.
“Guess so. I owe you one…Wanna come upstairs? I got a place over the bar.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder to point the way. My heart was thumping in my chest and my palms were sweaty as his gaze met mine. He knew exactly what I was asking.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s get outta here.” He let his hand rest at the small of my back as we headed for the stairs. I let my hips sway as I walked in front of him, knowing I was giving him a show. Soon we were walking through my door. I let him in, then turned to lock it.
I turned around and found him standing so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. He reached around me to put out his cigar in the ashtray behind me. I held my breath as he straightened and his heated gaze seemed to rake me from head to toes. I licked my lips nervously before moving a hair closer. Suddenly I was in his arms, crushed against his body as he pressed me back against the door. His kisses were rough and fierce. Jean and Scott were forgotten as I/Sheila opened my mouth to his probing tongue, running my hands across his hard muscled chest. His hands began to rove across my body, squeezing my ass in a grip just short of bruising, then running his hands along my sides to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples through the fabric of my blouse.
I moaned as he began to nibble at my neck. I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, wanting more. I heard his rumbling laugh as he stopped to help me. Then his hands slipped beneath the hem of my blouse, touching bare flesh, sending little electric shivers from the touch of his hands to my center. His touch was firm, almost too rough, but I loved it. I raked my nails down his now naked back. He growled, then grabbed the hem of my blouse and tugged it up and over my head, tossing it away. My lacy little bra soon followed. Impatient now, I began tugging at his belt. Chuckling, he caught my hands and before I knew it he had slung me across his shoulders. He carried me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed.
Instantly he was beside me, slipping my skirt and panties off my hips. I kicked them aside, along with my heels. He pulled me close in a powerful grip, his lips rough on mine as he pressed me for another of those searing kisses. I could feel his body pressing next to mine, his heavy dick pressing against my hip through his pants. Again I began to fumble with his belt. Laughing, he took over, shedding his jeans and boots without ever releasing me completely. Naked now, he pressed close, one hand squeezing my tits, pulling at my already hard nipples as his other hand traveled lower.
His hand was surprisingly gentle as it stroked across my clit and teased my already wet opening. I moaned into his demanding mouth, urging him on. Suddenly he plunged two fingers into my pussy, thumb rubbing firmly at my clit at the same time. His mouth trailed lower, nipping at my neck as I panted and writhed. His mouth claimed mine again, as if hungry. I panted into his mouth as my body shuddered in time with his relentless fingers. He pinched one nipple cruelly as I shrieked my orgasm into his hungry mouth.
I lay there panting a moment as he moved to kneel between my shaking legs. He grabbed both legs in his hands, lifting my hips, resting my calves against his chest. I nearly shrieked again as he plunged his swollen cock into my dripping pussy. He began thrusting hard in and out, leaning his weight over me, seemingly driving deeper with each thrust. I was moaning and writhing beneath him. I shuddered with another gut-wrenching orgasm, too winded to shriek this time. He never paused, driving on mercilessly. I could feel drops of his sweat falling on my tits and my face. I tasted it on my lips, salty and slightly bitter.
I could feel another peak building and I heard my voice calling his name. His breath was more ragged now, the rhythm of his thrusts more erratic. He pumped hard into me…once…twice…three times, grunting with effort now. He thrust one more time and I felt him twitch inside me as he shouted wordlessly, the sound seeming to set off another crashing wave of orgasm. He kept pumping as my orgasm crested, then withdrew, releasing me. Satiated and exhausted, I closed my eyes.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my own bed, alone. I was shaken and confused. I was Jean again, but my body felt languid, my panties soaked, my pussy aching as if the dream had been real. The memories of being Sheila and of Logan’s fierce fucking didn’t fade as dreams normally do.
What the hell just happened? How did I do that? Most importantly, could I do it again? I didn’t know the answers, but I sure as hell intended to find out. I’d never been fucked like that in my life! My mind whirled as I considered the possibilities. I would try again. Not tonight, but soon. Very soon.