Superman had had a busy day and was looking forward to a long hot shower.
Peeling off his sweaty costume and tossing it into the laundry hamper, he padded naked into the bathroom of Clark Kent’s condo, stepped into the oversized shower stall, and, standing under the steaming needle-spray, picked up the bar of soap-on-a-rope
and began to lather his hard body.
“My God, that cute little red-headed slut Sheila is a tasty bit of jailbait.”
He muttered absently, as he scrubbed the soap into the thick bush of blue-black hair that enveloped the uncut 12” sleeping monster and peach-sized balls that swung low between his trunk-like thighs.
“Great Rao, what wouldn’t I give to sink my shaft into her snatch!”
As the soap lathered into thick foam, the massive piece of meat between his legs began to swell and soon became a rigid bar its fore-skinned tip slapping gently against the blanket of hair covering his cobble-stone 8-pack.
As the unbidden vision of Sheila, her legs wrapped around his pumping buttocks, her head thrown back in a screaming orgasm while he emptied his hot load of Kryptonian sperm into her,
filled his mind, he worked the soap over his pecs causing his super-sensitive nipples to engorge and poke their pencil stub heads through the dense black mat of hair, revealing their platinum nipple-rings. With a strangled gurgle, the horny Kryptonian dropped
the soap, wrapped his strong right hand around his turgid prick and began to pump it up and down in long slow strokes that alternately slid his foreskin up and over the sensitive head and then back down exposing it to the tingling spray of the shower.
"It ain’t the meat it’s the motion”, he sang lustily, as his hips began an almost involuntary thrusting in time to his pumping hand, “Oh Sheila, wait ‘til you see what this daddy
has for you!”, he thought as he neared climax.
In a tawdry fourth-floor walk-up, a petite red-head lay spread-eagled naked atop a rumpled bed, thrusting her hand into her dripping cunt.
“‘It ain’t the meat it’s the motion’, come to me Superman, pump your Sheila full of that thick Kryptonian cream!” she cooed.
Across town, the naked lather-covered furiously masturbating Man of Steel, stepped out of his shower, crossed to the bedroom balcony and leapt into the air.
Seconds later the massive dripping nude figure dropped through the open window of the girls bedroom, strode over to the bed and flung himself on the recumbent teen-ager. With a guttural roar, he seated his rigid, slippery prick in her wet pussy and drove
it in to the hilt, his heavy, furry balls slapping loudly against her ass.
Her legs locked around his waist, her heels resting on his driving butt cheeks and, pressing her pert young tits against his deep chest, she wrapped her arms around his massive body and tried to dig her nails into his back.
Pounding and thrashing the pair rolled off the bed without missing a beat and minutes later Superman stiffened and shot the largest load of cum his balls had ever produced deep into Sheila’s thirsty womb. With a sigh, the exhausted son of Krypton passed
out on top of his seducer.
"Mission accomplished”, Sheila telepathically told her sisters, “Superman is my protectate.
How are the rest of you doing?”