Chapter 9: Vulnerability in Steam
"If you're feeling stopped up," I shouted through the door, " I have a way of helping with that. Up to you though." I wouldn't have to be as careful with her as I was with Sue, but I also really, really wanted to eat Mary's pussy from behind. Her whole body was a work of art, and from what she said about Crusher, my guess is she didn't get that sort of attention often. I waited there, nude and smelling of sex, for Mary to decide.
The shower door creaked open—Mary standing there, water cascading over her marble physique, eyes dark with hunger. "Get in," she growls, yanking me against her slippery form, like two boulders colliding.
"Put your hands on the wall, and stick your ass out," I ordered her, my voice calm but firm. She turns away from me, hesitating for a moment, and I kneel behind her, spreading her open with my hands to get to the treasure between her thighs.
She turned away, that monumental frame tensing for half a heartbeat before yielding, pressing her palms flat against the cool, wet tile. Water sheeted down the powerful curve of her back, over the swell of her ass, and I knelt, the hard marble floor biting even through my knees. My hands, strong enough to bend steel, parted her with deliberate care, revealing the glistening, flushed heat hidden between thighs like sculpted stone.
The steam thickened the air, carrying the clean, sharp scent of her soap and something deeper, muskier, uniquely her. I leaned in, the humid warmth enveloping my face, and the first swipe of my tongue was a long, slow exploration from the base of her opening right up to the tight, quivering knot of nerves above. Mary gasped, a sharp intake of breath that echoed off the glass walls, her whole body jolting as if shocked. "Fuck, Hardin!" she rasped, her voice rough, fingers flexing against the tile, knuckles white. "Don't you dare tease me."
I didn't. I dove in with the same focus I used in a fight, tracing intricate patterns with the tip of my tongue, circling her clit, then flattening it to apply broad, firm pressure that made her hips jerk back against my mouth. Her taste flooded my senses – salt, heat, an earthy vitality that spoke of her impossible strength. One hand slid around her thick thigh, fingers finding her slick entrance, sliding one digit in easily, then a second, encountering that incredible, resilient tightness only her super-dense muscles could create. She groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through my skull, her back arching like a drawn bow. "Yes! Fuck, use those fingers, goddammit!"
Her hips rolled, riding my hand, seeking more friction, deeper pressure, while my mouth remained relentless on her clit. I crooked my fingers inside her, pressing up against that spongy spot, feeling her inner muscles clench rhythmically around me. The shower pounded down, slicking skin, plastering her short blonde hair to her scalp, mixing with the wet sounds of my mouth working her. Her breathing hitched, became ragged gasps punctuated by low curses. "Crusher... never... fucking... bothers..." she panted, the confession torn from her between thrusts against my hand.
Suddenly, her whole body locked. A strangled cry ripped from her throat, raw and powerful, as the orgasm slammed through her. Her inner walls clamped down on my fingers like a hydraulic press, a series of intense, rhythmic contractions that threatened to crush bone. She shuddered violently, her immense weight braced only by her arms and the tiles, thighs trembling. She held herself there, suspended on the peak, for long seconds, riding wave after wave of sensation, the sheer force of her release shaking the heavy glass door. Finally, she sagged, breathing like a bellows, resting her forehead against the wet tile. "Holy... fuck..." she whispered, voice utterly wrecked.
Slowly, she pushed herself upright, turning to face me, water sluicing down her magnificent, heaving chest. Her eyes, still dark but now clouded with satiation and something fiercer, locked onto mine. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "Okay, hotshot," she breathed, her voice low and thick. "My turn." She reached down, her massive hand wrapping around my thick cock, already straining and heavy against my stomach. Her grip was firm, testing, a silent acknowledgement of its unusual weight and density. "Let's see if that infamous load lives up to the hype."
She didn't wait for an answer. One powerful arm snaked around my waist, the other guiding me, and she lifted me bodily off the wet floor as if I weighed nothing. My back hit the cool tile wall with a thud that rattled the enclosure, the impact absorbed by my own durability. Before I could react, she had hooked one of her tree-trunk legs around my thigh, hoisting herself up with effortless strength. Her other hand guided the broad, blunt head of my cock to her soaked entrance, already stretched and slick from my fingers and her climax.
"I'm not Sue," she growled, staring directly into my eyes, that challenging smirk back in place despite the raw need tightening her features. "No holding back." Then, with a grunt of effort that was pure exertion, not pain, she sank down onto me in one forceful, taking thrust.
The sensation was staggering. Her internal muscles, already loosened by orgasm but still possessing that superhuman resilience, clamped around me with incredible, crushing tightness. It was like sinking into molten silk wrapped around stone. The heat was intense, the pressure immense, a perfect, demanding vise that threatened to overwhelm even my enhanced control instantly. I gasped, my own hands flying to grip her powerful hips, fingers digging into the solid muscle there, anchoring myself against the sheer, overwhelming sensation. She felt every ridge, every thick inch, her body yielding yet unyielding all at once. "Damn," she breathed out, a shudder running through her as she settled fully, impaled. "Jen... wasn't... exaggerating."
She didn't pause. Planting her hands firmly on the tile wall on either side of my head, she began to move. Short, sharp lifts followed by powerful, driving drops, using the leverage of the wall and her immense leg strength to piston herself up and down on my cock. Each descent was a controlled crash, the slap of wet skin on skin echoing loudly under the drumming water. Her eyes were half-lidded, focused inward on the sensations, her lips parted as low moans escaped with each forceful impact. "Harder," she demanded, her voice rough. "Fucking... fill me, Hardin. Show me what you got."
I obliged, meeting her downward thrusts with upward surges of my hips, driving deeper with each powerful snap. The angle shifted the sensations, rubbing the thick length of me against that sweet spot inside her with bruising intensity. Her breath hitched, her rhythm faltering for a second before she found it again, even harder, faster. The confined space filled with the sounds: the relentless spray, the wet slap of flesh, her escalating gasps and groans, the low growl building in my own chest as the pressure coiling in my heavy balls intensified exponentially. She wasn't delicate; she was taking, demanding, using my body for her own fierce pleasure, and the raw, unapologetic hunger of it was pushing me dangerously close to the edge far faster than I was used to.
Her movements grew more frantic, less controlled, driven by a mounting urgency. Her super-strong inner muscles clenched rhythmically, milking me, a relentless pressure that stripped away any lingering restraint. I felt the inevitable surge building – not a slow swell, but a dam about to rupture under impossible strain. My fingers clamped harder on her hips, my own thrusts becoming shorter, deeper jerks, seeking the deepest possible penetration as the first, uncontrollable spasm ripped through my core. "Mary...!" I gritted out, a warning and a surrender.
"Do it!" she screamed, slamming down one final time, impaling herself to the hilt and holding there, grinding against me. Her head fell back, a primal cry tearing from her throat as her second climax ripped through her just as the first, thick rope of super-dense cum erupted from me deep inside her incredibly tight channel.
The force of it was staggering, even for me. The sheer volume and pressure, confined by her super-dense, unyielding muscles, created an immediate, intense backpressure. Instead of the usual outward flow, the thick, viscous fluid was forced inward with piston-like intensity, seeking any space it could occupy. I could feel it, a distinct, powerful surge pushing deep, flooding her recesses, the pressure inside her building rapidly. Mary's eyes flew open wide, her scream cutting off into a choked gasp of pure shock. Her body clenched in a vice-like spasm around me, not just from orgasm now, but from the startling, invasive force of the ejaculation invading her depths. "Oh GOD!" she gasped, her voice strangled, her powerful frame trembling not just with pleasure, but with the visceral, unfamiliar sensation of being filled far beyond capacity, far beyond anything she'd ever experienced. She clung to me, her breath coming in ragged, astonished pants, as the relentless pulses continued, deep within her core.
She clung to me, her breath coming in ragged, astonished pants, as the relentless pulses continued, deep within her core. The sheer volume was staggering, a pressurized flood seeking space inside her super-dense frame. Her internal muscles, still clenching rhythmically from her climax, fought against the invasive tide, creating a fierce, internal pressure I could feel vibrating up my shaft.
"Hardin...what...?" Mary gasped, her voice thick with disbelief and something raw, primal. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, locked onto mine, searching for an explanation I didn't have. Her grip on my shoulders tightened convulsively, fingers digging into my trapezius muscles hard enough to fracture ordinary bone. The steam seemed thicker now, clinging to her flushed skin, mingling with the sharp scent of exertion and something else – a faint, metallic tang beneath the soap and sex.
MY SEED PUSHED AGAINST THE TIGHT KNOT OF HER CERVIX. I THOUGHT FOR A SECOND THAT IT MIGHT HOLD, BUT LIFE, UH, FINDS A WAY. MARY SCREAMED, LOUD ENOUGH TO RATTLE THE GLASS, AS SURGE AFTER SURGE PUSHED THROUGH HER CERVICAL OS AND INTO HER UTERUS. SHE HELD ME, TIGHT ENOUGH THAT IF I WAS A NORMAL MAN I WOULD HAVE BEEN CRUSHED AS I FILLED HER RELENTLESSLY, MY INHUMAN TESTICLES CONTRACTING RHYTHMICALLY AS THEY FILLED HER FOR THE SECOND TIME TONIGHT. SHE WAS FIGHTING BACK TEARS AND I DIDN'T WANT TO PRY TOO MUCH, SO I CAPTURED ONE OF HER MASSIVE PINK NIPPLES IN MY MOUTH AND SUCKLED IT GENTLY AS I SETTLED IN FOR AN EXTENDED EJACULATION INSIDE OF HER.
The scream wasn't just pain; it was shock, profound violation mixed with a terrifying, unexpected possibility. Her body arched violently, pressing her breast deeper into my mouth, her nipple hardening instantly against my tongue. The rhythmic contractions deep within her intensified, a desperate clenching against the impossible intrusion, yet they only seemed to pull me deeper, anchor me tighter. Water streamed down her face, indistinguishable from the tears she fought. "Stop... can't... oh god..." she whimpered, the sound muffled against the top of my head, her immense strength momentarily focused solely on enduring the relentless internal flood.
I held her, one arm wrapped firmly around her lower back, supporting her trembling weight against the tile. My mouth remained gentle on her nipple, a soft counterpoint to the storm raging inside her womb. The pulses continued, deep and powerful, each surge met with a fresh tremor that ran through her entire frame. Her breathing hitched, shallow gasps punctuated by low moans that vibrated against my skull. The shower spray drummed down, a constant backdrop to the wet, internal sounds and her ragged breaths.
She shuddered violently, a full-body tremor that made the glass enclosure groan. "Feels... full... too full," she choked out, her voice thick and broken. Her fingers loosened slightly on my shoulders, not releasing, but trembling. The crushing pressure eased infinitesimally, replaced by a profound, trembling exhaustion. Her head rested heavily against the tile above mine, blonde hair plastered dark against her scalp. The fight seemed to drain out of her, leaving behind a raw vulnerability I’d never witnessed in Titania before.
The relentless spurting finally began to ebb, shifting from a pressurized torrent to a deep, rhythmic pulsing deep within her. The intense clenching inside her softened, replaced by a profound, saturated heaviness. She sagged against me, her immense weight suddenly a burden she couldn't bear alone. Her breath warmed my wet scalp, coming slower now, deeper, but still unsteady. "Didn't... think..." she murmured, the words slurred, unfinished. Her hand slid weakly from my shoulder down to my chest, resting over my pounding heart.
I lifted my head slowly from her breast, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed, pupils dilated, reflecting the dim bathroom light and a profound, disorienting confusion. Water dripped from her chin onto my cheek. "Mary?" My voice was rough, quieter than the shower's hiss. She didn't answer immediately, just stared, her expression unreadable beneath the exhaustion and shock. Her other hand drifted down, fingers tentatively brushing her lower abdomen, pressing lightly as if confirming the impossible fullness within.
"Jen... she tried to tell me," Mary whispered, her voice barely audible over the water. A shaky breath escaped her. "Said it... got everywhere. Inside." Her fingers pressed harder, exploring the firm swell beneath her skin, a tautness that hadn't been there minutes before. Her gaze dropped to her belly, then flicked back to mine, searching for confirmation, for denial, for anything solid. "Doom... he said... sterile. Absolute." Her voice cracked on the last word. The arrogance, the stubbornness, was gone, stripped bare by the sheer biological impossibility unfolding inside her. She looked lost. Terrified. Hopeful? The conflicting emotions warred on her face, stark under the bathroom lights.
The pulsing inside me finally ceased, leaving a profound, heavy emptiness in my balls and a lingering throb deep within her. The steam swirled around us, thick and silent except for the shower's spray and Mary's unsteady breathing. She kept her hand pressed low on her belly, her knuckles white. "Can't... move," she admitted, the words thick with exhaustion and something else – awe? Dread? Her legs trembled visibly. "Feels... anchored." She looked at me, truly looked at me, past the infamy, past the frenemy status, past the raw need that brought her here. "What... what did you do, Hardin?"
The steam hung thick, swallowing sound except for the shower’s hiss and Mary’s ragged breaths. Her hand stayed pressed low on her belly, knuckles white against the faint, impossible swell beneath her super-dense skin. "Can't... move," she admitted, voice thick with exhaustion and a tremor I couldn't name – awe, dread, profound disbelief. Her legs visibly trembled beneath her immense weight. "Feels... anchored." She looked at me, truly saw me, past the infamy, past the frenemy status, past the raw need that brought her here. "What... what did you do, Hardin?"
Her eyes, red-rimmed and wide, held a terrifying vulnerability stripped bare. This wasn't Titania the powerhouse; this was Mary, confronted by a biological impossibility Doom swore was absolute. Sterile. Yet the heavy, saturated pressure deep inside her was undeniable, a visceral counterpoint to years of certainty. Water dripped from her chin onto my cheek, cold against the shower’s heat. "Jen... she tried to warn me," she whispered, the words fragile. "Said it... got everywhere. Inside." Her fingers explored the tautness beneath her skin again, a firmness that hadn’t existed minutes before. "Doom... he said... sterile. Absolute." Her voice cracked, the arrogance and stubbornness utterly gone, replaced by raw, disorienting terror. And beneath it, a flicker of something terrifyingly fragile: hope?
The relentless internal pulsing had finally ceased, leaving a profound emptiness in my own heavy balls and a lingering, deep throb within her saturated core. Her immense frame sagged further, trembling not just from exertion but from shock. Supporting her weight against the slick tile, I carefully eased her legs, finding purchase on the wet floor. "Easy," I murmured, my voice rough but low. "Let’s get you out of this steam." She leaned heavily into me, her movements stiff, uncoordinated, her gaze fixed inward on the impossible fullness. Every step was tentative, her hand never leaving her lower abdomen, as if anchoring herself to the sensation.
I guided her out of the enclosure, the cooler air hitting our wet skin. Water pooled around our feet on the heated marble floor. Grabbing a thick, fluffy robe from the hook, I gently wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. The soft terry cloth swallowed her immense frame, a stark contrast to the marble-hard physique beneath. She clutched the robe closed, shivering despite the penthouse’s warmth, her eyes still wide and lost. "Give me all of it," I teased gently, tucking the robe tighter around her, my hands lingering on her shoulders. Helping her navigate the few steps back to the dimly lit bedroom felt like guiding a monument after an earthquake. She sank onto the edge of my massive bed, the mattress groaning softly under her weight, her posture slumped, staring blankly at the city lights shimmering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"How about," I offered, kneeling before her, brushing a damp strand of blonde hair from her forehead, "we order something off DoorDash? Watch some gloriously bad TV?" My thumb traced the sharp line of her jaw, feeling the tension thrumming beneath her skin. Her gaze slowly focused on mine, confusion warring with exhaustion. "And then later," I continued, my voice dropping to a low murmur, holding her eyes, "I'll screw you nice and slow." A faint spark, almost imperceptible, flickered in the depths of her blue eyes – not defiance, not yet, but a dazed recognition of the offer, the promise of sensation that wasn't overwhelming shock. "Of course," I added, smoothing the robe over her knee, "you're welcome to stay here tonight." Her breath hitched slightly. "But in the morning," I finished, a slow, deliberate smile touching my lips as my gaze drifted down to the magnificent swell of her chest barely contained by the robe, "we're probably going to fuck again." I let the implication hang in the air between us, thick and potent. "Maybe," I suggested, my voice a husky whisper now, fingers brushing the plush fabric over the curve of one impossibly firm breast, "you can ride me while I play with these magnificent tits of yours."
Mary stared at me, the city lights reflecting in her wide, stunned eyes. The trembling in her hands eased slightly, replaced by a different kind of tension. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Slowly, deliberately, her own hand rose, mirroring mine, pressing against the plush robe where it covered her breast. She didn’t push me away. She just held it there, feeling the weight, the heat, the impossible reality of her own body. Her gaze dropped to her lap, to the hand still resting protectively low on her belly, then lifted back to mine. The raw terror hadn't vanished, but it was now tangled with a fierce, bewildered curiosity, and the undeniable pull of the promise I’d just made. Her voice, when it finally came, was a hoarse whisper, stripped bare. "DoorDash... sounds good."