As Brandon looked down at Tessa, her face glistening with his cum, he headed to the restroom for wipes to clean her off. "Hey, Tessa, wait here—let me get some wipes and a towel," he said. As he was about to leave, he looked back. "Hey, Tessa, what were you looking for on the computer?"
Tessa was still gazing at him when he spoke, then shifted back to her Sage persona—cool, calculated, with that faint British lilt. "I was looking for any powers such as mutants, aliens, mutates, or other dangers to your life," she replied precisely.
Brandon felt a wave of gratitude as he absorbed her words. "Thanks, Tessa, for taking your time on that. So, what's the verdict? Anything weird out there?"
"No, nothing out of the ordinary—just the rich and powerful being greedy pigs. Nothing has changed," she said matter-of-factly.
"Damn, I see. Sorry to disappoint you, but I still feel like your Earth is more fucked up than mine, you know?" Brandon laughed.
"That's true—you get rich assholes, while I get alien invasions and a purple nutsack trying to snap his fingers," Tessa quipped, which made Brandon choke on his laughter before bursting out loud.
Tessa stood up as he eyed her. "True that. So, Tessa, now you know the public image you're going to have with Honey Lemon, right?" Brandon said.
"Yes, let me fix that up now." She turned to face the computer, giving him another eyeful of her leather-clad ass—round and taut, the black material hugging every curve like it was vacuum-sealed, the red X emblem drawing his gaze lower.
"Damn, Tessa, your ass looks so fine," he murmured, hearing the keyboard keys clacking furiously, dying under her rapid keystrokes. He peered over her shoulder; the screen blurred through program after program—databases flashing, firewalls crumbling. *Damn, I can't keep up, and this is my major.* He sighed lowly and went back to ogling her ass, swaying left to right as she typed. He glanced down at his boxers, cum smeared everywhere. *Definitely need new boxers, but so worth it. Thanks, boxers, for being there when I needed you most.* He chuckled at his own joke, then looked up as her ass continued its hypnotic swing.
It hadn't been more than three minutes since she began when Tessa said, "Done."
He blinked at her. "Really? Already?"
She turned, cum still streaking her face, and nodded. "Yeah, I just need to take a picture as Honey Lemon and I'm done."
"Okay, then let's take a shower. Also, thank you for indulging me with your ass, Tessa—but you can shapeshift back, Raven," he said.
Tessa smiled and morphed back. Mystique returned in her glorious blue skin and classic outfit: the white sleeveless dress with high side slits exposing blue thighs, skull-motif belt cinched low, white elbow-length gloves, and thigh-high boots that accentuated her athletic legs. But the cum on her blue face looked obscenely sexy, like forbidden icing on sapphire skin.
Brandon grabbed her hand and led her to the shower, hearing her giggle—a low, teasing sound that sent shivers down his spine. It prompted him to spin her around, pushing her in front as he guided her to the restroom. Once inside, he closed the door and started undressing, peeling off his sticky boxers with a soft *thud* to the floor. When he looked up, he told Raven to undress too.
She did, but slowly, turning it into a striptease. The white dress slipped off her shoulders with a whisper of fabric, revealing her blue breasts—pert and full, nipples hardening in the air. The gloves peeled away next, inch by inch, her yellow eyes locked on his as she bent to slide off the boots, her ass jutting out invitingly. God damn, she was sexy when everything was off—her curvaceous form glowing under the bathroom light, blue skin smooth and flawless, red hair cascading like fire.
It prompted him to attack: he lunged, latching onto her nipple, kissing and sucking with fervent hunger. His tongue swirled around the hardened peak, teeth grazing lightly as he drew it deep into his mouth with wet *sucks* and *pops*. She moaned—a deep, resonant "Ohhh" that echoed off the tiles—and hugged his head closer, her fingers tangling in his long black hair.
As he suckled, his hands roamed her entire body: cupping her breasts, feeling their heavy weight and soft give; tracing her toned stomach, muscles rippling under blue skin; sliding to her thighs, thick and powerful, squeezing the firm flesh. And let me tell you, those thighs were thick—plush yet strong, like velvet over steel. Then he groped her toned ass, squeezing as hard as he could; his hands sank into the plush cheeks, the skin yielding with a satisfying *squish* before bouncing back taut. *Fuck, I love asses,* he thought. *I've always been an ass lover—breasts are okay, but the ass is what I'd love to pound, get a hold on as I fuck her from behind. I watch porn just for the doggystyle; everything else is boring.*
As his hands kept roaming, he glanced right and turned on the hot water first, holding her ass while waiting for it to heat up—the steam rising with a soft *hiss*. He turned back. "What do you need to take a picture? Can you use my phone?"
She responded, stroking his dick with her right hand—long, deliberate pumps that made him throb. "I can, but it won't be high quality—the DMV or others might want to retake it." Her grip tightened, eliciting a moan from him: "Fuck, Raven..."
He placed his hand on her thigh, trying to lift her to sandwich his dick between her ass cheeks. As he hoisted her, his dick nearly slipped into her pussy entrance—he almost buckled, the slick heat teasing his tip. *Believe me when I say this: I wanted to fuck her right here, right now,* he thought internally. *But not yet—I want it to be special, with my Marvel crush, Emma Frost.* He felt Raven understand, as she used her left hand to guide his dick between her ass cheeks instead.
Then he started moving—up and down, up and down, again and again. She moaned loudly in his ear, a sultry "Faster, daddy," that ignited him. Extra strength surged from nowhere; he removed his hands from her ass and slid his forearms under her kneecaps, lifting her legs to either side of his shoulders. She got the cue, pushing her breasts against his chest with mutant flexibility, hugging his head to her neck. His dick was centimeters from penetrating her, but he forced his instincts down, nestling it between her butt cheeks and asshole instead.
He started grinding away: the slick slide of his shaft along her crack, the cheeks clenching around him with each thrust—the *slap-slap* of blue skin against his hips, wet from sweat and arousal, building to a rhythmic *schlick-schlick* as her natural lubrication coated him. Her asshole puckered against his length, the tight ring teasing with every upstroke, while her cheeks jiggled softly, the friction hot and building like velvet fire.
He heard her moan near his ear, low and urgent: "Faster, daddy, faster—grind my butthole." He went faster, sweating profusely—not fit enough to carry her while pounding, but male pride wouldn't let him falter in front of motherfucking Mystique. He clenched his jaw and grinding with everything he had, her moans growing louder—a crescendo of "Yes... ahh... harder!" that spurred him on. He checked the corner of his eye to avoid tripping, entering the shower with his back to the water so it wouldn't burn her—the *slap* of her ass on his flesh echoing with every bounce.
"Fuck me, it's hot as hell," he grunted. "Raven, turn on the cold water—your face is toward the handles."
Raven, moaning "YES, YES, I HAVE IT," twisted the knob while her butthole grinding against him. The temperature cooled, and he turned her around to wash her too. She scrubbed her face clean of cum, the water cascading with a *patter* over blue skin. When it was gone, her yellow eyes locked on his; she kissed him fiercely, sucking his tongue like she wanted to devour it—wet *smacks* and *slurps* filling the steam.
After carrying her a couple more minutes, he panted, "I'm putting you down." She agreed. He turned her sexy blue ass toward him, dropped to his knees, and started eating her out—just like he'd seen in porn, tongue delving deep into her folds, lapping at her clit with firm strokes. He must've been doing okay because she shook uncontrollably, moaning so hard her voice cracked—a raw, throaty "Oh god... Brandon!" that sounded like her throat was getting wrecked instead of her pussy.
He continued until she came—no, squirted—like a blown-out faucet, juices gushing in a hot spray that hit his face. It tasted like... victory. Brandon laughed maniacally, triumphant.
Raven was a mess, panting. "Brandon, I can't move my legs—I think they gave out," she said in her accurate Mystique voice—sultry, dangerous, with that edge of amusement.
Which turned him on even more, confirming his victory over the great Mystique. He stood, holding her to his chest; his boner poked her entrance again. She turned, holding him, then dropped to her knees and gobbled his entire length down her throat, gagging hard with a wet *glurk*.
As he looked down, he saw the iconic amused smile from her comic cover—*Mystique* issue #2 (of 5), Frany Mystique Variant 2024. It made him grab her head and deep-throat her hard; she gagged with a series of *gluk-gluk-gluk* sounds, throat convulsing around him like a vice, saliva bubbling and dripping in messy strings. But that amused smile stayed, egging him on—so he continued, the *slurp-gag-slurp* rhythm building, her yellow eyes watering but locked on his, daring him deeper.
For minutes—if someone came by the restroom door, they'd hear nothing but his grunts and her gagging *glurks*—wet, choking echoes off the tiles. After who knows how long, they were drying off in front of the mirror. Raven stood in front, Brandon behind, his dick limp after that glorious deep-throating 101 session. It felt incredible—incredible because it was him ravishing this sexy blue-ass woman, whom he still couldn't believe he'd won through a lottery. And second, because she was Mystique, the shapeshifter who could turn into anyone he wanted.
After brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed—yes, bed, after waking to that ringing, the voice explaining (sorta), estimating sizes, grinding on Tessa's ass, and the restroom deep-cleaning—it was already 8:00 p.m. on a Saturday. He had college Monday for testing; summer vacation started next week, June 26, 2025, ending September 11, 2025. He couldn't wait—Comic-Con in L.A. was July 6 through 9. It'd be fun now that he had his Mystique.
As he looked down at her morphing her hand into a brush for her hair—a clever *swish-swish* through red locks—he said, "Hey, Raven, I'll be in bed waiting, okay?"
She looked up and smiled—that mischievous one, like she was plotting. "Okay, darling. And don't forget, I need a high-quality camera."
"Oh yeah, I'll order it on Amazon. I have Prime, so it should get here tomorrow—if I order now with the other stuff I need." She gave him a toothy smile, knowing full well what he meant. He wasn't hiding that he hadn't fucked her yet; he was waiting for the perfect moment with the perfect woman of his dreams.
"Okay, darling—you do that, because I can't wait to fuck the shit out of you." She laughed maniacally.
He blushed, knowing Emma Frost was the dominant type. He gulped hard. "Yes, dear." He ran out to grab his phone, ordering the camera—placing it in the cart—then searching for a stripper pole, a comfy reclining sofa chair for Emma in different positions, and a good speaker for pole music. He giggled evilly to himself.
Raven called out, "If you're giggling all evil, it means you have what you need, correct?"
He looked at Raven, mouth agape—because she wore a nightgown so slutty it popped him a boner instantly: a sexy, slutty lingerie sheer mesh chemise nightgown and thong set, naughty floral lace babydoll sleepwear in white. The translucent mesh hugged her curves like mist, floral lace teasing over her breasts and hips, the thong a thin white strip vanishing between blue cheeks. It looked so good on her, emphasizing her blue skin with ethereal contrast—nipples peeking through, ass framed like a gift.
"Fuck, Raven, you're killing me, babe. Come here," he beckoned.
She walked slowly, sensually, hips swaying with hypnotic grace—each step a *click* of imagined heels, blue skin rippling under the sheer white. Brandon was wowed. As she neared, he hugged her tight, carrying her to bed. "I already ordered everything—it's coming tomorrow. I can't wait to fuck you silly, Raven."
"I know, dear, and I can't wait to get fucked by you. Only now are you able to resist?" she teased.
And damn it, he was teetering on the edge of pounding her for fuck's sake. "Yes, dear—I believe I can resist. Though I'll tell you now: I'm going to punish you so hard tomorrow and teach you not to turn on your lover like that."
Raven giggled in amusement. "Oh, I see—well, can't wait for it then."
They lay in bed, him spooning her hard—pressing his cock between her ass cheeks, leaving it nestled where it belonged. He held her close, kissed the side of her head, and whispered, "I love you for being the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."
She smiled, pushing closer. "I'm happy being yours, honey."
As they drifted off—him taking awhile, losing himself in subtle grinding against her perfect ass, the cheeks clenching softly around him—he finally fell asleep. *Tomorrow, Emma's ass is mine,* he thought with a smile.