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King of Wakanda update
🕑 Added 2018-02-03 19:03:03 +0000 UTC Peter woke up feeling surprisingly fresh and well-rested, considering how crappy his day had been. Maybe Wakanda had advanced mattress technology in addition to the flying cars. He stretched and yawned and then remembered Ramonda was there when he saw her sitting in one of the room’s chairs, wearing only a robe. It wasn’t closed. With her shapely legs spread, he could see her shaven sex opened wide, the smooth glistening pinkness inside, the muscles contracting spasmodically in some unfathomable working that struck him as excited somehow.“Hello, Peter Parker,” she said, and only then did Peter realize she was combing her hair. The hair on her head, not… “I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
“Yeah,” Peter squeaked, his voice cracking pubescently—“Very good. Very, very good.”
“Good,” Ramonda teased with one of her rich smiles. “I hope you don’t mind my appearance. I know Wakanda’s standards are not those of all the outside world.”
“No, it’s fine. They’re fine.” Peter tried nodding. Goddamn, just sitting there, she looked like Halle Berry doing a Playboy shoot.
“These are the kinds of things you must become accustomed to if you are to rule Wakanda. Differing customs. New ideas.”
“Yes, yeah, I am just going to cold shower. Shower. You have cold water in your showers?”
“Yes,” Ramonda said. “You may sleep naked too, if you wish.”
“I… yes, what?”
“This is Africa. It is warm. Excessive air conditioning is hurtful to the environment.”
“Yeah, I dig it, stay woke,” Peter said rapidly. “I’m going to shower now.”
***
An hour of cold shower did nothing to diminish his erection, probably because he couldn’t stop thinking of Ramonda and this weird dream he’d had of Liz Allan and how her throat worked in gulps as she swallowed fruit juice. Finally, Peter could put it off no longer. He dressed in slack clothes and hoped no one would notice until he’d resumed normal operations.
He remembered enough of his itinerary to know there was no people’s court today. T’Challa had an office, which meant Peter had an office, and he was to go there to review proposed legislation.
His prick was still hard when he rolled into the royal chambers; he had to smuggle it past the doorman like he was a spy. In the elevator, he faked a bad cough that required him to politely turn away from another passenger so that only the wall saw his jutting erection. Coming out into the elevator bank, he found a janitor bent over his broom. Peter bent over his hard-on, hoping he could slump down far enough to hide the prominent outline extending down his pantleg. The janitor noticed his posture, but not his manhood. He figured that the burden of the office was enough to weigh heavily on any man.
Finally, Peter arrived at his temporary office, with its nice big desk to hide behind—and Shuri on top of it.
“Mr. Parker,” she greeted, almost respectfully. She had wanted to rule Wakanda while T’Challa was away, but—Peter could only assume here—the Panther hadn’t wanted to put her in danger by making her a target for assassination. Peter got that. He had an aunt. But Shuri didn’t like playing second fiddle to Cousin Oliver any more than he would’ve. But she muddled through.
All of that, at the moment, paled in comparison to how she looked. Dressed in the finest Wakandan fashions, which verged on eroticism while staying in professionalism’s lane. Her light brown skin—much of it exposed—reminded Peter absurdly of a lovingly prepared cup of hot cocoa, while curly golden hair formed a sort of halo around her oval face, somewhere between endearingly ruffled bedhead and a stylishly chic haircut. There was a beauty mark just above her lip, and another just above her nipple, and Peter’s gaze wandered between the two as his erection now started throbbing maddeningly. Maybe it was something in the water.
“T’Challa’s sister!” he said, an attempt at levity that got him nothing but a scowl. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping,” Shuri said. “If I can’t rule Wakanda, I can at least prevent you from running it into the ground.” She gave a slightly apologetically, but mostly mocking smile. “Not that you would, of course.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter agreed. He hunched over, crab-walking towards his desk. “Mind if I get my desk back from your butt?”
One perfectly poised eyebrow rose—Shuri had great eyebrows too—but Shuri didn’t free up his desk space one iota. “It’s my family’s desk. And what’s wrong with your back?”
“My back? Nothing! Oh, uh, I think I threw it out the other day. Working out. I work out a lot.”
“I’m sure,” Shuri said. Now she got down off his desk. “Let me have a look at you. I have a medical degree.”
“Of course you do,” Peter muttered; she was now standing in his way, blocking him from getting to his chair and sweet relief from the fear of being discovered. “Please move? I’m your king. You kinda gotta.”
“What is that you’re hiding?” Shuri demanded, sounding like the teacher in one of those dreams where Peter went to school in his underwear. “Have you stolen something?”
“What? No!”
Shuri grabbed him by the shirt. “If you have stolen one ounce of Wakanda’s treasures, I will…” She pulled him upright to threaten him, and as she did, he was forced flush against her body. Shuri felt his heft against her thigh and automatically looked down, only then seeing what Peter had hidden.
“That is…” Shuri stared at it. She reached for it, as if seeking to confirm for her other senses what her eyes were telling her, but jerked her hand back. Peter’s cock had started throbbing even harder at the prospect of being touched. “That is not one of Wakanda’s treasures.”
“No, it’s not,” Peter agreed, and took advantage of her evident shock to sidle past her and seat himself. He quickly hid his lower body in the desk’s footwell—and thought he heard a muffled groan coming from Shuri. He turned to her to explain what had happened, before remembering that Ramonda was her mother too. He doubted Shuri wanted to hear about what a MILF she was.
Clearing his throat, Peter tried to proceed as if he didn’t have a raging hard-on stretching from his lap up to the bottom of his desk drawer… and running a little along the underside. “Can you either leave me alone or help me? I don’t know how it is in Wakanda, but where I’m from, guys occasionally get boners. It happens. I’m sure women have their own biological things that they appreciate a little sensitivity about.”
“Yes, of course,” Shuri said, hurrying to close the door. “You will be reviewing legislation… most of it has been in the working for months, so it’s either deadlocked or ready for a signature. I’ve filed them appropriately and collated comments from T’Challa’s advisers. Just sign the documents that need to be signed—there will only be a few of them—and send the rest back for further working.”
“There, was that so hard?” Peter smiled shakily. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It is alright. I acted disrespectfully to my king. T’Challa has asked me to serve you faithfully, as I would him, and my behavior just now was… shameful.”
“Hey, I’m the one with the hard-on,” Peter said. “Let’s just both agree it never happened.”
“Yes.” Shuri nodded gratefully. “You also must meet with the representative from Latveria, who wishes to broach the subject of a mining agreement. It will be rejected, of course, as it would be even if T’Challa were here, but we must show the proper…” Shuri stopped suddenly, her eyes lighting up with realization. “You cannot see him like that.”
“Like what?”
Shuri was already removing her clothing.
Peter stopped talking, both because his response to Shuri disrobing more-than-adequately distilled what she was referring to.
And because she had clearly inherited Ramonda’s looks and then some.
Her body was slender, with dark, curly pubic hair spread out in a wide triangle that accentuated the deliciousness of her hips. Her breasts were not large but they were well-formed, suited to her lithe body, the nipples bullets pushing out from areolas as big as silver dollars. As she stripped, her whole nubile body swayed—reminding Peter not of a dancer but of a palm tree in a cool breeze off the waves of a beach.
She looked back at him, watching him watching her, taking a hidden satisfaction in the desire that glowed in his eyes. Now naked, she drew up to Peter, her slim belly roiling, her hips weaving some side to side. Then she stood before him, reaching down with deft hands to open his fly. She pulled the zipper down with tantalizing slowness, looking into his eyes with her satisfaction not so hidden, until she finally had it all the way down. His prick was stuck inside his plaid boxers, dragging them outward like a tarp over a pillar. Shuri unbuttoned the top of his fly and unbuckled his belt. His pants fell open in a vee.
Now his prick was free to thrust out and drag the elastic waistband of his underwear away from his belly. Shuri looked down and saw his naked prick shaded inside his boxers. It looked even larger than she could’ve imagined. She cupped his balls through his boxers, finding they were pleasingly firm, with a solid heft of cum. With her other hand, she pulled his boxers down over his cock, then dragged them down so that the waistband was under his balls and all of his equipment was hers.
She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth, his cockhead pushing into her belly.
“I’ve always said that I would do anything for my people,” Shuri said, speaking into his breathless mouth. “If that includes… defusing a tense… situation… then I will do it.”
“I could just jerk off,” Peter said.
“It’s for my people!” Shuri chastised violently.
She leaned over the desk, her breasts flattening beneath her, her ass hiked up like an offering, her cunt wet and glistening. He didn’t see that he had any other choice but to move in behind her. She tossed her head around to watch him, a happily smile on her panting lips, her eyes glassy with lust. Peter wrapped his hand around the base of his prick and guided the engorged cockhead to her entrance. He began to move his glans around in her slit, readying her for his penetration. He could feel her pussy suckling him, trying to draw him inside her hot sex. Shuri squirmed, her ass tensing, almost vibrating. Peter grasped her by the hips and braced his feet. His whole body tensed. Then he buried the full length of his manhood inside her.
Shuri wailed with joy.
She writhed around her new center, her newly filled cunt, grinding her ass back against his loins as she tried to get used to being impaled. He drew out, and Shuri gulped in breath, both relieved that the exquisite tension was over and wishing it would’ve continued. She looked down at the desk underneath her and realized she had been drooling onto the ancient symbol of Wakandan leadership.
Peter looked down at his cock and saw that it was soaking, that Shuri’s arousal was literally dripping off it. He fucked into her again. His shaft hissed into her, and either he was bigger or she was clenching, because she felt tighter than before, her inner muscles dragging and pulling on him. His balls swung back and forth to slap against her groin, adding an extra straw to the backbreaking load of being filled and stretched to the extent Shuri was.
He began thrusting faster and harder, giving her all of his big prick over and over again, only to pull it away against the suction of her depths. His body jolted with bursts of pleasure as he pumped into her. Shuri was trembling wildly as well, her whole body shaking harder as it got used to the rhythm Peter was fucking her with. Impatient for the tightness of her cunt, he began dragging her back by her hips as he fucked into her, pulling her pussy onto his cock like he’d put on a glove.
Her sex was melting around his prick.
Now Peter started dipping down with his knees before he thrusted, fucking into Shuri from a lower angle so that his full length rubbed against her clit. A new thrill darted up Shuri’s body, meeting the sensation that was already roiling deep in her groin. It felt like a warm tide was coming in, each wave of it higher, crashing down harder.
Shuri was letting out a continuous moan now, and each time Peter entered her, she gave a short, sharp cry as if she could not believe that it was happening again, that she was feeling such pleasure a second and third and fourth and fifth time.
Then, as he withdrew, sluicing out of her saturated pussy, Shuri sighed, the counterpoint to her outcries, longer and softer and drawn out to the point of quavering.
She was gasping for breath, having trouble focusing her eyes, not caring about anything but the feel of his cock fucking steadily into her, when she heard Peter say, “Call the ambassador and tell him we’ll be late.”
“Yes!” Shuri agreed. “Yes! Oh, sweet Bast, I will!”
She turned her head automatically to the phone and found him fucking even harder into her. He would’ve knocked her off the desk if it weren’t for his firm, bruising grip on her body.
“Call him while I fuck you.”
Peter’s words thrilled her. He expected her to carry out affairs of state while he was inside her!
She tried, she most definitely tried. But the cock fucking hard into her pussy almost betrayed her, time and again, to the man on the other end of the line. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she had made her apologies and her alternate arrangements. She hung up the phone and Peter’s cum pushed inside her, pumping into her sex in a hot stream, such pressure that her pelvis tilted, her ass jumping.
He poured serving after serving of his thick cream into her, and her pussy responded with clenching, exploding orgasms as they worked wildly against each other, burning off their lust.
Shuri slid across the desk, limbs akimbo, a huge smile on her face.
Peter drew himself out of her pussy, now as wet with his seed as it was with her own juices.
He was mildly surprised, but not at all displeased to find that his cock remained rigid. When she managed to lift her head enough to see for herself, Shuri was even more pleased than Peter.
“I’ll get the ambassador back on the line,” she said.
Comments
Shendude
Huh, I forgot to comment on this. Probably cuz I haven't got much to say, besides that it is good funnysmut!
