Two days had passed since Hilary’s “lesson” on the living-room couch. His mind replayed it in loops: the wet heat of her mouth, the slap of her ass as she rode him, the way her body clenched when she came. He understood pleasure now, but not desire—not yet.
Everyone in the house went for a swim by the pool and Amanda, the neighbor girl from down the street, was the life guard. She wore a sky-blue bikini, showing off her nicely shaped ass and her nipples faintly visible through the wet fabric. Kyle watched her dive, water cascading off her body as she surfaced, laughing. His superhuman vision zoomed in: droplets tracing the curve of her breasts, the way her bikini bottom clung to her ass. His cock stirred. Then surged. The 10-inch beast thickened instantly, tenting the loose trunks into a monstrous bulge. Amanda noticed. Her eyes widened, then flicked away, cheeks flushing. Lori, floating nearby, saw it too.
“Jesus, Kyle!”
she hissed, splashing water at him. “Go inside before you scare the fish!”
Kyle tilted his head, confused. Why does my body do this? He obeyed, retreating to the house, the bulge bobbing with each step.
That night, Josh cornered Kyle in their shared room. “Dude, you can’t just pop boners in public. That’s, like, social suicide.”
He pulled out his laptop—a scratched-up Dell—and opened a folder labeled “Educational Material”. “Lesson one: jerking off,” Josh said, clicking a video. A blonde porn star with fake DD tits moaned on screen, riding reverse cowgirl. Kyle watched, fascinated. Josh demonstrated with his fist.
“Up and down. Grip it like this. Think about Hilary—or Amanda. Whatever works.”
Kyle mimicked the motion, his 10-inch cock springing free from his boxers. Josh’s jaw dropped.
“Holy shit, dude. You’re a mutant!” Josh screamed. “I'm gonna give you some privacy”
Kyle stroked—slow at first, then faster, his superhuman coordination perfect. The sensation was intense, a warm coil in his groin, but… incomplete. Hilary’s mouth had been hotter, wetter, tighter. His hand couldn’t compare. He came in thick ropes across his abs, groaning, but the release felt hollow.
Over the next 24 hours, Kyle’s speech evolved. He’d gone from one-word sentences to full questions: “Why does Lori wear short shorts?”
“What is ‘horny’?”
“Nicole, why do you smell… different when Stephen hugs you?”
Nicole blushed at that last one. Stephen hadn’t touched her in nearly two years—work stress, midlife crisis, the usual. She’d buried her needs under therapy sessions and PTA meetings. But Kyle’s super-smell picked up everything: her pheromones, her arousal when she caught him shirtless, the wetness between her thighs when he asked innocent questions.
At 2:17 a.m. The house was silent. Kyle wandered downstairs, shirtless, unable to sleep. His mind cycled through Hilary’s moans, Amanda’s bikini, Lori’s towel drop, Nicole’s scent. His cock twitched, half-hard, as he entered the kitchen.Nicole was already there, pouring milk in a crimson silk nightgown—the one she wore when she wanted to feel sexy for herself. The fabric clung to her 36D tits, the deep V-neck plunging to reveal creamy cleavage, nipples faintly visible through the silk. Her thick hips and round ass swayed as she reached for a glass.
Kyle froze. His cock surged, thickening to full 10-inch glory, tenting his pajama pants obscenely. Nicole turned, milk in hand, and gasped.
“Kyle! You can’t—oh my God.” Her eyes locked on the monstrous bulge, then flicked to his face. “Sweetie, it’s not… modest to—”
But her body betrayed her. Her nipples hardened under the silk. Her thighs clenched. Kyle’s super-smell hit her like a drug: musk, arousal, milk, need. Kyle stepped closer, head tilted.
“Nicole… you smell wet.” She stammered,
“Kyle, that’s not—”
But he was already kneeling, hands on her hips, face inches from her crotch. His superhuman nose inhaled deeply. “Here,” he said, voice soft but certain. “You’re wet here.” Before she could protest, he pushed her nightgown up, exposing her bare pussy—Stephen hated lingerie, so she’d stopped wearing it. Kyle’s tongue darted out, licking a slow, perfect stripe from her entrance to her clit just like Hilary had taught him. Nicole moaned, legs buckling. “Kyle, no—oh fuck!” He didn’t stop. His tongue was superhuman—precise, relentless, learning her folds in seconds. He sucked her clit, flicked it, curled two fingers inside her, hitting her G-spot on the first try. Nicole’s hands gripped the counter, milk spilling, her tits heaving under the silk. “How are you—oh God—how are you so good?!” Kyle’s answer was a vibration against her clit as he hummed, super-senses mapping every twitch. He started to slide his fingers in and out, examining the walls of her pussy, his touch was electric, touching her in places she didn't even existed while using his other hand to squeeze her tits, wrapping them around his hands and twisting her nipples.
It didn't take long for Nicole to cum hard, thighs clamping his head, pussy gushing into his mouth. He drank her like data, memorizing her taste.
Nicole’s legs gave out. Kyle caught her, lifting her onto the kitchen table with his super strength. The milk glass clattered to the floor.
“Kyle, we can’t—”
But her hands were already yanking his pants down, his 10-inch cock springing free, veiny and leaking. She stared, hungry. “Stephen’s never—God, you’re huge.” Kyle, no longer clueless thanks to the videos from Josh, bent her over the table. Her nightgown rode up, exposing her plum and juicy ass. He gripped her hips, sliding his cock along her slit, coating himself in her juices. “Nicole… I want to… connect,” he said, voice soft but primal. She whimpered, pushing back. “Do it. Fuck me.” He thrust in—one smooth, deep stroke, his 10 inches stretching her wide. Nicole screamed, the table creaking, her 36D tits smashing against the kitchen table. Kyle fucked like a machine—superhuman stamina, perfect angle, balls slapping her clit with every thrust. Nicole had ways been a quiet gal in the bedroom but Kyle's cock had her screaming “Harder!” all modesty gone. He obliged, pounding her doggy-style, the table scooting across the floor. Her ass rippled, her pussy clenched, her tits bounced free from the nightgown, nipples scraping the table.
Kyle reached under, squeezing her 36D tits, thumbs rolling her nipples. “You feel… better than Hilary,” he said, super-mind comparing. Nicole came again,this time even harder, her pussy milking his cock, juices dripping down his balls. “Cum inside me! I’m on the pill—fill me!” Kyle’s hips stuttered. He roared, superhuman control shattering, flooding her with thick, hot ropes of cum, pumping deep as she spasmed around him. They collapsed together, panting, the kitchen reeking of sex and milk.
Unknown to them they had a Silent Witness Upstairs, Lori had woken to the sound of the milk glass shattering and the kitchen table shaking. She crept down, barefoot, peering around the corner. Her eyes widened. Her mom, bent over the kitchen table, nightgown bunched at her waist, Kyle’s 10-inch cock buried in her pussy, thrusting like a jackhammer. Nicole’s tits bounced, her face contorted in ecstasy. Lori’s hand flew to her mouth. She should scream. She should stop it. But she didn’t. She watched, thighs clenching, as Kyle came inside her mom, Nicole’s scream echoing through the house. Lori backed away, heart pounding, wetness soaking her panties.