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Ant-Man: On A Rainy Sunday
🕑 Added 2016-02-01 23:16:37 +0000 UTC A lot had happened in the last year and a half.Starting with the heist at Cross Technologies, everything had changed. Hank had taken back control of the company, redirecting its research into the Quantum Realm. Scott had joined the Avengers during that SHRA mess. And Hope, Hope had finally gotten her suit. She’d been practicing with it when Bruce came to stay with them.
Bruce Banner was no longer an Avenger, no longer the Hulk. Once again he was running from that side of himself, or at least what he associated with it. He’d been an old student of Hank’s and now he had nowhere else to go.
Not that Hope believed this; she thought living at Hank’s place meant he could keep the Avengers at arm’s length, while still being close enough to the action to intercede if things got truly hairy. She respected his wishes, though. Didn’t ask for too many war stories, or too much advice for being a superhero.
Then, finally, they cracked the Quantum Realm. It was Scott who figured it out, of all people. An engineering problem. Whatever differences had led to them not working out, it’d had nothing to do with a lack of brains on his part.
So they got Jan back. Practically unaged, shockingly cute, her hairstyle mirrored in Hope’s own. It was a shock just how much they were alike. The strength, the determination, a certain edgy sense of humor. And how much was different, how much Hope had forgotten. Just how funny Hope could be, how friendly. How fashion wasn’t just a job for her, it was her life; about the first thing she and Hope had done together was take her shopping for something to wear other than tanktops and slacks.
And then, Hank had started his slow decline. It was like with Cross defeated, the Ant-Man suit passed on, Jan back, he had nothing left to stick around for. He’d gone into a wheelchair, then a bed, then the hospital. Then, finally, he was out.
Scott had given her her space. The Avengers needed him now anyway. Hope had tried to commiserate with Jan, but as sociable as Jan was, she was very nearly a stranger. It was hard to see someone as a maternal figure when they were the same age as you.
So Hope did what she always did. Threw herself into her work. The grief seemed less real when she was an inch high. When the entire world was surreally blown up, exaggerated and off-kilter, her feelings felt right, not… too big for her. Too overwhelming.
Not that Hope realized it, but it’d been a full calendar year since she’d last had sex. Months since she’d even thought about it. She was about to start again.
She was in the closet, shrunken, flying through clothes hangers to test her maneuverability. Sex was the furthest thing from her mind, let alone it being associated with her mother. Despite everything, Hope regarded Jan somewhat as an extension of Hank, a counterpart to him. If Hank were remote, aloof, and almost defiantly sexless, then she expected no less from Jan, no matter how little sense that made.
It was flying down the neckhole of a dress that Hope heard the strange noise. It was a small noise, too faint for larger ears, but being miniaturized made the ears more sensitive. Large sounds were lost in explosiveness; smaller ones could be discerned with pinpoint accuracy.
Scanning the closet wall, Hope detected a crack in the plaster. The sound was emanating from there, while the rest of the wall blocked it out. Her wings beating a steady vibration, Hope buzzed to the crack, shrinking a little further to nestle herself inside. A bit of a squeeze and she could see light from the other side. The entire cavity was developing into a fine hole in the wall. Hope would have to go after it with some mortar.
“You’ve really got one hell of a hard-on tonight, don’t you Brucie?” she heard her mother say. Then there was a giggle, as if Jan were delighted with the size. “I mean, Gawd! It’s so big and long and hard as a rock!” Jan’s light voice sizzled on certain words, her usually irreverent tone deepening sensually, naughtily. “Fuck, I could suck the cum out of a cock like that all night.” Another giggle. Hope thought she heard an agonized moan in Bruce’s low voice. A chopping noise—was Jan giving him a handjob as well? The thought just popped into her head. “I think I will…” Jan purred with finality.
For an endless instant, Hope wondered what she meant. Then she heard a series of gurgles, pornographically obscene slurps, and she knew instinctively that her mom’s mouth was wrapped around Bruce’s stiff cock.
The sounds solidified around her, no longer distorted by being spooled through the winding crack, but clearer now. Grunting. Groaning.
“Oh, shit…” Hope heard Bruce’s voice, low and gravelly, almost pained, effort-ridden. “Suck on it, Jan… fuck… that feels good…”
Her mother was actually sucking Bruce’s cock!
Shocked senseless, Hope could only stand in place as the sounds, the words, continued to reverberate through the crack in the wall like she was in an echo chamber. Then she realized she was becoming aroused. Her panties were moist, the wet crotch-band slip-sliding over her labia like a clumsy tongue. The nipples of her firm breasts were hard underneath her bra, while her clit throbbed with insistent need. She knew, on some level, it was wrong to listen in on her own mother fucking, but that didn’t seem to matter when all of her felt so warm, so alive. She found herself wishing, desperately wishing, that she could see what was happening on the other side of the wall.
Then the light in front of her flickered, shadows thrown from it to push at Hope with colossal heft. Whatever the light source was in the room, something was moving back and forth in front of it. That was blocking, unblocking the light hitting the wall, hitting the hole in the wall. Hitting her.
Hope walked forward. Her gossamer-thin, super-resilient wings grated against the sides of the crack, then obligingly bent, abandoning stiffness for flexibility like the advanced polymers they were. Not that Hope would’ve noticed if she had broken such expensive, sensitive technology. All she felt was the heat of the light hitting her body, the physical force it had, like she was immersing herself in a warm bath.
She could see everything now. The crack was a small one, blending so well with the color of the wallpaper that anyone could be forgiven for not noticing it. Her mind worked academically—her father’s daughter—noting the details. There was a lamp on the nightstand, bright enough to bathe the room in gentle light. It was a guest room, not the master bedroom, her parents’ bedroom—some part of Hope that still insisted on loyalty unclenched at that.
The space was cozy, cleaned and reupholstered for Bruce’s stay, then sparsely decorated with tokens of his meditation. A metronome, among other things. Then books, a laptop, a modest television. Not a man-cave, but a retreat from the world. There was something romantic, something sensual about the softness of the place. With the rich, oaken furniture, the darkly masculine color of the furnishings and wallpaper, the calmingly Romantic oil and watercolor prints that broke up the monotony of the walls, it seemed an ideal space for something relaxing, something to be luxuriated in.
Bruce was seated on the bed. His pants and underwear were down around his ankles, though he was slowly shuffling his feet to divest himself of them. He still wore his dress shirt, but Jan’s hands were pushing at it as she sucked him, exposing the leanness of his belly, the thick black hair of his chest that curled on his stomach, became dense and short at his groin. His physique was not cut or sculpted, but more raw power, feral almost, a stocky strength in his tensing forearms that bristled with silvering hair, the saltpepper in his beard catching the light as he clenched his jaw, his wiry hair falling shaggy about his ears as he tossed his head. He groaned and winced, seeming one step away from not being able to bear it as Jan indulged in the stiffness of his prick.
Jan pulled herself almost all the way off his cock, her moan growing louder and more vocal the more her mouth was unobstructed. And Hope found another commonality with her mother. Like Jan, she simply couldn’t take her eyes off Bruce Banner’s cock.
His prick was huge. Hope had seen a few cocks in her day—not as many as she might’ve hoped—and had seen a few pictures—a few more than she’d care to admit. But none of that prepared her for the enormous rod of reddened flesh extended like a weapon from his swollen balls. It was a pillar, a monolith, and Hope could see in every inch of it a determination and a will to exert itself on Jan’s mouth, her throat, her body. It was designed only for that, meant only for that, and the sheer drive of it—the desire simply radiating from it—was intoxicating.
Hissing breath through his flaring nostrils—his jaw was too tightly clenched to move—Bruce planted his hands to either side of Jan’s head, disrupting her bob haircut into new, odd shapes, and pushed her off his dick, prying her face upward to look into his eyes. Hope now saw his cockhead—knotted up like a fist, fat and purplish, with clear precum oozing freely from the slit, dripping down to the collar.
His voice, when it emerged, was drained and dangerous and full of authority. “Suck on it, Jan,” he said in his strained voice, quietly potent, all of him quivering with a sort of rage. “Don’t tease. Just suck. My balls are so full I’ll hit the ceiling when I spurt, so make it happen.”
“Only if you promise to come down my throat. I’m not doing this so the ceiling can have all the fun.”
Bruce had barely moved his hands to the back of Jan’s head when she was sucking him again, eagerly, very hard.
She was naked, her body fantastic. As sylph-like as Hope’s own, breasts petite but firm and pert, the ass tight and toned, all of her as slender as the models who wore her clothing, belying the ravenousness with which she devoured Bruce’s cock. It was obvious from Bruce’s pleasure that she was an expert on blowjobs, and obvious from her own that she enjoyed it very much.
Hope could see how Jan’s lips stretched indulgently over the thickness of Bruce’s cock, how her cheeks billowed in and out rhythmically, how they flushed pink with internal effort. She could only comfortably take the first half of Bruce’s manhood, and Hope watched in disbelief as Jan used her hand on the rest, stroking her fist up and down on the swollen root of his dick, jacking him off into her mouth.
“No,” Bruce said gruffly, catching her hand by the wrist and wrenching it away from his member. “Use your mouth. Take it all the way in.”
Jan pulled her mouth from his throbbing cock, lips glistening with precum. She looked up at him, wantonly teasing. “You really want me to deep throat you, babe? You know how fast that makes you cum…”
“Just do it,” Bruce groaned hoarsely, thrusting his hand to her throat. Jan smiled, overjoyed, as he forced her to his cock with his hand around her throat. “All the way in. Like I said.”
Hope watched her mother’s mouth open very wide. Once more, it took the head of Bruce’s cock inside. This time, it didn’t stop. His gigantic erection seemed to bore endlessly down her throat, no stopping it, nowhere it couldn’t go. Bruce’s thumb stroked her gullet as he throated her. Where it pressed the flesh, Hope could see the solid presence of his cock inside Jan’s throat. It was actually visible, pressing out against her skin.
“Good,” Bruce sighed, seeming to relax an iota. “You swallow cock alright. You’ll swallow cum just as good.”
Jan nodded eagerly.
Then, incredibly, Hope saw her take in even more of Bruce’s cock. Until it was all the way in, the steel wool of his pubic hair pressed against her chin, her throat contracting and slurping around the thickness of his manhood.
“Yeah. Oh, yeah…” Bruce gasped. “Gonna fuck your mouth now, Jan. I have to… have to feed you my cum, fill you up with it. Don’t want you tasting anything but me for days.”
His face grimaced with a kind of satisfaction, and he patted Jan’s head, petting her hair back into place. Hope could hear Jan cooing as she held herself down on his cock. His big hands, his meaty fingers ran down Jan’s smoothed head of hair, down to her shoulders. He firmly gripped the trapezius muscles alongside her neck, his thumbs at her collarbone, holding her in place. Jan seemed to grow even hotter, being subjected to his will in this way. Above her kneeling legs, her hips began to sway in infectious need, groin subconsciously pitched against a frustrating lack of resistance.
Hope had become unbearably aroused. She knew she should feel ashamed, being turned on by spying on her mother, but she couldn’t feel any compunctions about what she was experiencing. All she knew was a desire to be in her mom’s place, sucking that big, beautiful cock all by herself. Or maybe touching Jan, doing something to relieve the desire she so clearly felt. It almost hurt, looking at her, seeing how bad she needed it. As bad as Hope did…
Hope unzipped her uniform and thrust her fingers into the crotch of it. The sticky heat of her panties and the bristly hairs of her cunt greeted her like old friends. She found her aching clit and hit it hard and fast, whimpering softly under her breath, never taking her eyes from what she could see through the hole in the wall. What she could hear.
The noises coming out of Jan’s mouth now were unbearably loud, wet as an ocean, gurgling with lust and a bit of panic. Bruce was bucking his hips off the mattress, fucking his blood-filled cock even deeper into Jan’s mouth. Her whole face was flushed, her cheeks nearly hollow from sucking; it was almost like she was gorging herself on Bruce, feeding herself by sucking on it.
She cradled her head against Bruce’s gut, her stretched lips leaking saliva and precum as she took Bruce’s pistoning cock. Then she planted her hands on his thighs and pressed his ass down into the mattress with a creak of bedsprings, holding him in place as she savagely bobbed her head up and down on him, faster than he ever had, his prick pumping in and out of her throat, Jan literally fucking her own mouth with his rock-hard erection.
“Unnnh!” Bruce moaned, his mouth falling open with twitching satiation. “Gonna cum… gonna cum…”
Hope watched in arousal, astonishment, as the gorged shaft of Bruce’s cock was accepted quicker and quicker by Jan’s throat. “Oh, Jesus,” she whimpered under her breath, hunching over to better fit her fingers to the wet mouth of her cunt. “Oh, Jesus, mommy… oh God, oh fuck, mom…”
“Take it!” Bruce urged her, his voice cracking, his words mixing into Jan’s throaty sucks and Hope’s whispering pleas, forming a noise that pressed in on Hope like a caress. “Take it in your mouth and suck it, you filthy—! Suck it hard, goddamnit, and swallow it! Swallow!”
Hope didn’t think Jan even heard his words. But she stiffened suddenly, recoiling as Bruce groaned in apparent orgasm. Her cheeks filled, her eyes widened as Bruce exhaled in lengthy effort. Hope heard her swallow. Then another gulp. Another. Another. Bruce’s breathing pitched and he moaned even louder, his hands in Jan’s hair now, pumping her steadily on his cock. Jesus, was he still coming…?
If Hope had been excited watching Jan sucked, she was ecstatic to see her swallowing. Just the sound of Jan gulping it down was enough to bring her close to orgasm, and now, straining, she could hear Jan humming with pleasure as she tasted him. It left Hope breathless. Her legs were rubbery. She had to sit down, move her hand even harder against her slit. No, both hands.
She threw her head back and clamped her eyes tightly shut as the sounds—sucking, swallowing, cumming—pressed in on her. Her fingers seemed to work without her. Passionately caressing the outer labia, as she had been doing, then a single finger inside, into the warm, tingling confines—stroking in and out, slowly—she could hear Bruce groan with finality, then a weighty slurp as Jan devoured the last of him—her own moan joined them, fingers against her stiff clitoris, another finger inside, wet walls, clenching pleasure, her G-spot, press, release, she heard Jan swallow and her lips smack contentedly, blissful, sensuous warmth inside her, she was panting, her breasts were heaving frantically against her bra, her fingers working harder, her pussy flaring wildly, everything tightening, everything burning, something coursed through her, something was wet, something was exploding—
Hope found herself envisioning Bruce’s big green cock as she brought herself to orgasm.
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