Captain America called Scarlet Witch into his office. "You saved the day again, Scarlet! Now please tell me exactly how you saved the life of that Dutch porn star, Lillian de Dong."
"Well Captain, as you know Lillian suffered from that rare Hawaiian disease known as lackanooky. How the hell she got that in the Netherlands I have no idea. What with all those horny flight attendants from KLM Royal Dutch Airlines on the loose in the neighborhood looking for a goose This assignment was easy. I just put a hex on Lillian that induced her to eat me."
"Dear Lord, is she a cannibal?"
"No no, Captain America. You don't die when Lillian eats you. You . . . um . . . well . . . it's more like going to heaven. My God, that girl loves to munch the rug."
"Munch the rug?"
"Yeah, you know—beaver dinner, box lunch at the Y, tuna taco, bearded clam—"
"Okay, okay, I get it. Next time let me watch. That's an order."
"Only if you promise not to jerk off like you did that other time you watched. That's so rude."
"To waste that nutritional stuff. I would have taken care of your deposit. I mean, you are Captain America. Anyway, Lillian had her tongue between my legs for so long it got all swollen and she had to go to the emergency room. An extremely attractive female physician named Dr. Doolilly treated her there. I heard Lillian say, 'You want me to stick my tongue on your what, doctor?' I left as soon as they started muffing one another. But I hooked Lillian up with a steady diet of my girlfriends Angelina Jolie and Giselle Bundchen since I had to go off and save the world. Angelina has played a superhero too, and Giselle married a superhero. Well, her husband was, but Big Ben is the man now. I think sucking all that cock in those porn flicks sent Lillian into a funk. Oh yeah, you should see this one dude in these movies they call Miro the Magnificent! His fucking dick is—"
"Scarlet! I'm not really interested in that!"
"Okay, okay. Geez Captain, don't blow a gasket. But I sure would like to blow Miro!"
"Scarlet, just go home and turn on your vibrator until I call you with another assignment," he said gruffly. "I just can't understand why these female superheroes are so horny," he muttered to himself as she turned and walked out the door.
* * *
"Captain America?" the voice on the telephone inquired.
"This is Stephen King. I have a problem."
"What, are you looking for some ideas for a new book, like the last time you contacted me?"
"No, no. I have a big problem this time."
"Well, what is it, Stephen?"
"It's the Evil Empire. You know I'm the world's biggest celebrity Red Sox fan. I'm terribly worried since that ruthless villain 'The Boss' is spending billions to buy the pennant. The Evil Empire must be stopped!"
"Sounds like a job for one of the Avengers."
"I don't want New York City blown up or anything. A more subtle approach is needed I believe. Sabotage. Distractions. That sort of thing. Embarrass the players and their fans. Cause the Evil Empire to crumble from within like the Roman Empire. Sexual improprieties might be appropriate. I'll never forget when those two Yankee pitchers traded wives thirty some years ago. Now that caused a bit of a scandal. Do you have any Avengers who could cause a really big scandal?"
"This sounds like a job for Scarlet Witch."
"Please tell me about her."
Captain America told Stephen King all about Scarlet Witch. How she underwent sorcery training under the tutelage of Angela Harkness. The mental discipline of sorcery aided Scarlet's powers of concentration, enabling her to exercise much greater control over her hexes than ever before. But still, Captain America explained, Scarlet's hexes are relatively short range, and limited to her line of sight.
Stephen King questioned the short range limitation of Scarlet's hexes. "So the closer Scarlet gets to the victim, the more powerful she can vex with her hex?"
"Exactly!" Captain America responded. He told King about the salvation of Lillian de Dong. "Because Lillian was so close to Scarlet, like right down on her poontang, the hex was very powerful indeed."
Captain America went on to impress King even more with the legend and lore of Scarlet Witch. He explained how Scarlet's hexes have a wide, almost limitless variety of possible effects and have been known to alter the molecular composition of physical objects, to negate or distort laws of nature, and to cause various forms of energy to spontaneously appear or disappear.
"And Stephen, Scarlet has some great knockers and a mighty fine caboose," Captain American chose to add. He would have went on but the great novelist started to pant.
* * *
Jeter and A-Rod tossed the ball around on the infield just prior to the start of the game. Suddenly a beautiful woman wearing some sort of scanty red costume ran onto the field and stood between them.
"Is that Morganna the kissing bandit?" A-Rod asked Jeter.
"No dude. But she does look familiar. Are you into the X-Men?"
"X-Men? Fuck no, man. I'm married. Well, I was. What would I be doing watching gay porn? Why, do you have some?"
"Holy shit, look bro! She's flashing her tits. Oh my God, what hooters!"
"Look into my big brown eyes," Scarlet purred as she held her voluptuous melons. They did, eyes bulging. She summoned up the Hole in the Bat and Glove Hex. "You two are lousy babeball 'er I mean baseball players who should be in the minor leagues. You suck!"
Right after the 27 to 0 thrashing of the Yankees by the Red Sox, "The Boss" turned to his general manager Brian Cashman and screamed, "How the hell did Jeter and A-Rod both make a dozen errors and strike out four times? In one fucking game! Dammit, get me some more players! I want that slugger Chris 'Crusher' Cuntt. I heard the Indians would be willing to trade him for a couple billion bucks and a gimpy minor leaguer. Give the Indians that reliever in the wheelchair. Tell them that's how he prefers to come into the game."
"Boss, the Red Sox are hot after Cuntt too. And Crusher has to approve any trade. It's in his contract. I checked."
"Make Cuntt and the Indians an offer they can't refuse.
* * *
"Those bloody Yanks are loony," Boy George told his friend Alistair Appleton during their daily telephone chat.
"Really," Alistair replied. "We should have sunk the Mayflower and all those other boats. The Yanks are worse than the French."
"Actually Alistair, I am speaking of the baseball team. Listen to these headline stories from across the ocean. Some idiot in New York named Billy Crystal, that must be the name he uses in his transsexual routine, got his pecker stuck in an empty bottle of Piel's and had to go to the emergency room to get it removed. Now he has to take a pee sitting down. The story says he was watching a Yankees vs. Red Sox game when the incident occurred. Well, I'd get bored too."
"You know, Boy George, I can't believe anybody drinks that Piel's shit. I'd rather drink straight from the toilet. Give me a Guinness, mate!"
"That's only half the story. A few hours later this asshole is back at the hospital. This time an another empty bottle of Piel's was stuck up his butt. Apparently Yankee fans drink Piel's, and like it. And then they otherwise enjoy the bottle. George Steinbrenner also known as 'The Boss' is screaming bloody murder that there is some international conspiracy against the Yankees and their fans."
"I did hear something about that. Oh and I saw a segment on the Howard Stern Show with some black chick named Whoopi something or other who is, coincidentally, a Yankees fan. You know how the ladies like to flash their tits on Howard's show. So this Whoopi takes off her shirt. Talk about the black forest. Her chest looked like a forest. And she blamed it all on some witch who she says is pissed at her because she roots for the Yankees. Poor Whoopie said she couldn't get a date now. But Howard took care of that. He fixed her up with Hank the angry drunken dwarf."
"Isn't he dead?"
"I guess he couldn't very well refuse the date then, now could he?"
"I did see that show, now that you mention it! That chick Whoopi was wearing an eye patch. Talk about a pirate and a dead man's chest! She does have great nips, though. That's about all I could see through the mammary forest."
"Hey, when are we getting together with Elton John, again? What a musician! Can he play the skin flute, or what?
* * *
Brian Cashman called "The Boss" to report on progress with trade talks. "Chrusher Cunnt said he will approve a trade to either the Yankees or Red Sox on one condition."
"And what's that?" George roared.
"Crusher says he knows he is the best player in baseball. But it's in the bedroom where his performance has been questioned. He has this little problem. It doesn't matter so much he says when one of his legions of groupies is blowing him. But intercourse seems to be an issue with the ladies. They complain that he is the One Minute Man, if you get my drift. Whichever team can provide a solution to his problem gets his services."
George contemplated this dilemma for several minutes. "So who doesn't blow a load a little quick sometimes when he's dipping his wick in some hot little number? We need to find him a real skank to screw."
* * *
Crusher Cunnt called Theo Epstein, general manager of the Red Sox. "The Yankees gave me their offer. That big celebrity Yankee fan, Sarah Jessica Parker, brought it over to my place. No way I'll be playing for those damn Yankees. I'd rather stay in Cleveland."
"Not to worry, Crusher," Epstein answered, "you'll love our offer. I'm having a young lady bring it over real soon. Her name is Scarlet. Dresses a little weird but a real nice girl."
"Does she do anal? I can hold off a little longer if I stick it in that hole."
"That part you'll have to negotiate with her. I only do the dollars. I'm not Cashman. I don't pimp for the players."
Crusher was quite speechless when he beheld the beauty of the creature who brought him the offer from the Red Sox. But what really got his attention, other than a boner that felt like it was going to burst right through his pants, was what Scarlet said. She informed him that it was possible for a man to achieve a true multi-orgasmic response.
"You see, Mr. Crusher Cuntt, you need not have a temporary period of psycho-physiologic erectile incompetence immediately following ejaculation," Scarlet told him as he hung on every word.
"You mean . . . uh . . . that . . . uh . . . my . . . uh . . . that after I . . . uh . . . bust a nut my dick doesn't get limp?"
"Exactly! Now that would solve your little problem, wouldn't it? What babe would complain if you could keep going and going and going? And getting off and getting off and getting off. Just like a girl."
"That works for me! But this sounds incredible. Unbelievable, in fact. Can you prove it?"
"Oh, sure. Just imagine who will be begging you to crush her cunt. You'll be on Oprah, in more ways than one. Hey, how come there are no other people in this hotel?"
He laughed. "I can afford to pay for every room in the place. I like my privacy."
"Well, could we go down to the pool and go for a swim? I'm getting hot. Aren't you, Chris?" She stared at the bulge in his pants and put her hand on it, rubbing its length gently.
"Oh yeah . . . I'm . . . uh . . . a little hot myself. Did you bring a suit?"
"Can't we skinny dip? I mean, if there are no other guests here but us—"
"Sure we can!" He jumped up and grabbed two towels and then Scarlet's hand and led her out of the suite. But he stopped and knocked at the door of the next suite. "Oh, I forgot, there is one other guest here. My agent, Nas. That's short for Nasty. His real name is Drew, which he thinks is gay. But he is one nasty son of a bitch when it comes to player negotiations. He represents quite a few football players, and I'm his first baseball player, so he wants to make a big impression on the owners and general managers. He'll get pissed if he can't hear your offer too."
Crusher and Nas talked briefly at the door. Scarlet overheard Nas say, "What the fuck, Crusher, I'm watching a baseball game." But finally Nas agreed to follow them to the pool area.
A hottie of a lifeguard greeted them and introduced herself.
"Kitty, do you mind if we skinny dip?" Scarlet asked.
"Whatever turns you on, girl," Kitty answered. "Crusher is paying for all the hotel space." Then she winked at Scarlet and whispered, "And he autographed a condom for me. Then we used it. Great sex. I just wish it would have . . . uh . . . lasted a little longer."
Scarlet shed her unusual clothing and Crusher hurriedly did likewise, but was a little embarrassed about his throbbing hard-as-a- rock manhood pointing due north.
"Would you like me to take care of that for you, honey?" Scarlet cooed, fondly touching it and running her hand up and down its length.
"Sure, baby. And then I'll fuck you silly. If what you said is true. The proof is in the pudding. And I can't wait to get my dick in yours."
Scarlet got down on her knees in front of him and began to slurp his salami like a greedy superwhore 'er superhero.
But suddenly she pulled Crusher out of her mouth and said matter-of-factly, "I have to do a little hex now."
"Yeah, my Red Sex Hex. Not to worry. I'll get right back to sucking you off. The 'Red' refers to the fact that your privates get rubbed raw and red, due to the duration of certain sexual activities."
"Well, okay, I guess."
She grasped his penis with both hands with only the head visible and spoke into it like a microphone, "Dicky dicky, give me the sticky sticky. On my tits and in my mouth. But dicky dicky don't go south. Keep it up, big and hard. And put it in my lumber yard. Over and over and over, cum on in Red Sox rover."
"That's a cute little poem," he complimented.
"It's not a poem!" she blurted. "It's a Red Sex Hex!"
"Whatever. I loved it. Now could you please go back to doing to what you were doing before?"
Crusher began to moan as Scarlet experienced and experimented with the taste and feel of his cock in her mouth. She began to do a circle motion with her head as his cock slid to different places in her mouth. She started to gobble it down her throat enthusiastically. Then she tilted her head back so that her mouth and throat were in as much of a straight line as possible. And it popped right down the pipe. All of it. Her nose nestled his bush.
"Oh my fucking God!" Crusher yelled. "I've never been sucked off like this before! Not even by Paris Hilton!"
"You're going to shoot a big load, aren't you, Crusher honey. Fuck my mouth, baby. Fuck it hard and fast."
"Oh yeah . . . oh fuck!" Crusher cried as he began to move his hips in a thrusting motion to meet Scarlet's warm, wet, lovely mouth. "I . . . I . . . ohh . . . ahh . . . arrggg . . . ohhhh my . . . ahhhhhhhhh . . ."
Scarlet gulped down most of his man milk and then finished off Crusher's still spurting cock by holding it on the tip of her tongue as she squeezed and consumed every last bit of it.
Crusher waited for the inevitable. For his dick to get limp. But it didn't happen.
"Okay baby, let's jump in the pool," Scarlet suggested. "I want to show you my mermaid moves."
"I don't swim," Crusher said, a little leery of the water.
"Baby, there is a lifeguard, remember? But we'll stay in the shallow end. Grab that big inner tube."
Crusher did and sat in it with his legs dangling over the side. Scarlet straddled his lap while facing him, and slowly lowered herself onto his penis with her hands on his shoulders for support. Once he was inside her, she began to rock back and forth. He intensified the action by grasping her hips to help propel her. The splashing water created by the thrusting hits of both of their nether regions only intensified the titillation factor. Soon both of them were moaning and groaning and saying very naughty words.
Next they tried the raft. Scarlet lay on it on her stomach with her butt and legs hanging over the edge. Crusher grabbed onto her thighs as if he were pushing a wheelbarrow and entered her. He moved her legs up and down to vary the angle and then pulled her close for the deepest possible penetration. More swearing and this time screaming.
Meanwhile Nas, the nasty sports agent extraordinaire (Arliss who?) sat under an umbrella poolside and listened to the game on a small radio and read the new baseball book (Sox and the City) he had just picked up the other day. He paid no attention to Scarlet and Crusher playing pickle me-tickle-me in the pool. But the lifeguard Kitty sure paid attention to all the shaking and baking going on. She had put a beach towel over her lap and slid down her bikini bottom and began to make the fruit juicy. But eventually she couldn't stand it any longer. She slipped up her bikini bottom, tossed the towel, and sauntered over to Nas, boobs barely constrained by the tiny top bobbing and hips swaying.
"Honey, would you like to jump my bones?" Kitty purred.
"Maybe when the game is over and I've finished this book," Nas replied rather disinterestedly.
Scarlet overheard the conversation. She focused on Nas and spoke the words of the Sex is Better Than Baseball Hex. "Forget about Manny and get some fanny. Lick your way to first base, second base, third base, and home and then use your tongue on the honey pie. Sex is better than baseball and that's no lie."
Kitty ripped book from Nas' hand and threw the radio down and stomped on it. She grabbed Nas by the ear and led him away. "Time for my lunch break," she called to Scarlet and Crusher in the pool. Don't drown while I'm gone." She looked at Nas amusedly and cooed, "I hope you like my pudding, baby, because that's what's on the menu. Not for me, though. I'll be having a hot dog. Yours. Speaking of sports, did I mention I can suck a golf ball through a hose?"
"Wow, I'm getting waterlogged," Crusher complained after they tried a half dozen more aqua maneuvers, including beach ball booty, which gave a whole new meaning to having a ball. "Let's go back up to my suite and try the bed."
When they got back to the suite Scarlet produced a contract. "Sign this, and then we can do some more bone dancing. You do agree to play for the Red Sox, right?"
"Well . . . uh . . . uh . . ."
Scarlet got on the plush carpet on the floor on all fours and started to bark. "Don't you want to give the poor doggy the bone?"
With great haste he signed the contract.
An hour and several more orgasms for each of them later Crusher stood between Scarlet's legs, gripping her ankles and spreading her legs as he entered her. Then he opened and closed her legs like scissors as he thrust. One second his joy stick felt snugly inside and the next her vaginal canal was wider and he could go even deeper. He didn't stop until She soon squealed in convulsive ecstasy and begged him to stop so he pulled out and shot yet another load all over her face.
"Dammit, you got it in my hair!" she complained. "Shit. What, you think superheroes don't have bad hair days?" she grumbled softly but he didn't hear that.
"Sorry," he apologized halfheartedly as he turned her over and entered her from behind again. But this time he didn't pump back and forth and in and out. No, he rotated his pussy tamer inside her, finding her G-spot which gave her incredibly intense pleasure until she collapsed and curled in a ball.
"Oh Crusher, you are my hero," she meowed. "You are a super stud. This is the most orgasms I have ever had with a human 'er I mean man."
"No one has ever given you more orgasms? He pointed his still stiff dick at her, as if asking for more action.
"You're the man, dude. Lillian de Dong, the famous Dutch porn star, gave me more. But girls know how to do certain things with girls better than boys do."