####
1917, White House,
"We might not even have to enter this damn war." President Woodrow Wilson flung the newspaper onto the table. "Fine work, Marshall. Let Europe tear itself apart."
Thomas R. Marshall nodded relaxedly, seated in front of the table, being the Vice President. "Let's hope they react soon. It was hard to get them to believe the information, but they fell for it in the end. Hope Dinosia takes the bait now."
"Of course they will. For all the wisdom and superiority those Dinosians claim, they sure have none. They take in them negro and chinks and hope they'll stand proud?" President Wilson scoffed and took out a cigar. "Let them fight it out on that blasted island. If they fail, so be it; we won't be dragged into their ruin."
The Vice President nervously shifted in the chair. "We must be careful. Last time…"
"We're not the same anymore."
"But he is, Sir."
####
Dinosia,
"How the fuck you gonna know if you've never ridden one? That's like spitting on chocolate without ever letting it melt all sweet and sinful on your tongue." Marshall bluntly stated as he sat by the bar in the middle of the night. It was just him and the angel called Angela, very original. Turned out, she was Odin's daughter.
It was just the two of them. Marshall had been drinking since he arrived home. Angela had joined his side to discuss something. And one thing led to another, they ended up talking about cocks. As expected with Marshall around.
"Well, I'm not that ignorant. I've used—"
"Let me guess, a dildo? Ha! That lump of rubber doesn't even throb or heat up," Marshall barked, guzzling whiskey straight from the bottle. "Not that I've ever handled one, mind you. Just common goddamn sense."
Angela frowned, also sipping but more gently. "It throbs?"
"Hell yeah, it does. It throbs, tightens, swells up, flexes, heats like a forge, and shoots out like a damn geyser. Yup, one hell of a geyser."
Angela wobbled the glass, staring into it, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Hm. I suppose it does. But it isn't about the act itself. It's about doing it with a man. It feels wrong somehow—like how you'd feel if it were another man instead."
"Goddammit, I actually saw that in my head," Marshall groaned, grabbing another bottle. He really couldn't get drunk, no matter how much he drank. "But yeah, I feel you. Hold up, how about this?!"
All of a sudden, Marshall turned one of his fingers into a thick cock-like tentacle.
"That's…" Angela pursed her lips at the thing. "Interesting."
"I know, hell of a damn trick to get the ladies babbling. Though I like using my own tool better. These wriggly talons ain't for everyone. Hela snarls at 'em, says it feels like I'm letting someone else grope her. Selene, though, wicked little thing, wants 'em wrapped around her tight while I plunder every damned hole she owns."
"That's... a bit much," Angela muttered before sipping again. "Though, thinking about it, I wouldn't mind trying it at least once."
"Tentacles?"
"A man." Angela frowned slightly, as if testing the word itself. "Heven had none. Perhaps that shaped the way I see things. If I'm to understand the truth of it, I should experience it for myself."
"That's what I said, dammit. Go buzz around, sniff out a few handsome idiots, snag one, and get your sin on. Ain't a soul gonna give a damn about a night of fun."
"That's the thing, I don't want to," Angela muttered, leaning forward over the countertop, one elbow folded as she rested her head sideways on the palm. "If I'm going to try it, why not just go with the First Man?"
"..."
Marshall gawked at the woman. While she wasn't dressed in her golden armor, she was still gorgeous. She was dressed in that purple leotard-like thing. She still had the golden headgear that covered her forehead and had wings on the sides. Her eyes were green with geometric markings around the corners, the same color as her long red hair.
Now that she mentioned it, Marshall wondered why he hadn't expected that or tried it already. He somehow just imagined that she was Hela's sister and hence out of reach. It was a dumb thing to think, clearly.
"I'm game if you're game," he said, eyeing her for good this time. She had a body to die for, curvy, large, and soft breasts, plump hips, and… flaming red hair that… reminded him of Firehair.
"So? How do we do this?" She asked.
"In the bedroom." He declared and slapped the empty bottle on the table. He jumped off the seat and grabbed her hand. "So, what's it gonna be, sweetheart? The full buffet or just the plain scoop?"
"What?"
"What do you want? Just a roll on the bed and cock in pussy action, or the whole game? Kissing, eating, sucking, and fucking?"
Angela paused, her brow tightening. "I have never been asked that before. I suppose... all of it? Without the whole, it loses its worth."
"Damn right."
In no time, Marshall pulled her into a private bedroom. There were too many in the temple. Then he locked the door and looked at the red-haired supposed angel. She was as tall as him. "Rough or easy?"
"I don't think you can be rough with m—"
Rip!
Before she could finish speaking, he showed the rough. With a simple drag of his hand, he snatched her leotard at the neck and ripped it apart entirely off her body. And the view it left, it was enough to freeze Marshall for a moment.
Angela's breasts stood proud, defying gravity with their lush weight, each one a creamy mound big enough to bury Marshall's face and never come up for air. Her nipples a deep flesh-red, darker than her fiery hair. Tight, eager buttons, begging to be bitten. Her belly was taut with the faint ripple of abs, yet softening into hips that flared wide, framing an ass so plump and perfect it screamed to be pounded raw. Her thighs gleamed, muscular enough to crush his skull and make him thank her for it.
Marshall's cock twitched harder just looking at her.
"Fucking hot! Odin sure knows how to make beautiful girls." Marshall cursed, ripping his own clothes apart. And he did rip them until he stood in nothing. "You said rough, so here it is."
Angela's eyes were glued to his threateningly fat and throbbing cock, the tip swollen red. She'd seen artificial ones, taken one in, but they weren't this big.
"Ah!"
Marshall shoved her back onto the bed, her body landing with a soft thud against the plush sheets.
Her legs sprawled open, their inner curves glistening with the faintest sheen of nervous sweat. They trembled slightly, betraying her bravado. Her body was a vision of angelic sin, every curve screaming sex, from the heavy swell of her breasts to the tight dip of her waist.
That made Marshall's blood roar. The sight of her helplessly spread out sent a jolt straight to his cock, hard as steel.
"Umm… never used a big enough dildo, I guess," Marshall muttered, his eyes fixed on her slit.
It was tight, a perfect hidden slit. So sleek, a long, snug line with her sensitive little nub peeking out like a shy jewel. Her pussy was still dry, its lips pressed together like a secret waiting to be forced out. He licked his lips, imagining how that tight seam would feel stretching around him, how it would weep under him. The thought made his cock throb harder.
Marshall crawled onto the bed, settling between her legs, his knees forcing hers apart with a rough nudge. Her thighs spread wide, exposing her completely, the air cool against her untouched core.
He loomed over her, his cock hanging heavy and threatening between them. He kept her legs pinned open, his knees like iron, ensuring she couldn't close herself off. The sight of her splayed out, her powerful form at his mercy, made his pulse hammer. He was ready to make her feel every inch of what a man could do.
He looked down at her face, the golden headgear framing her features. Those geometric markings around her eyes glinting with an otherworldly charm, her red hair spilling across the sheets like liquid fire.
Her expression was a mix of curiosity and challenge.
"Mmm… A warrior's body." He muttered, his hands caressing her feminine abs. Then went up and massaged her breasts in each palm. They were big; they spilled so much between his fingers. So soft. He almost drooled.
"Mmmmh!" Angela moaned a surprised whimper, her body arching instinctively into his touch.
Her breath stifled as Marshall cock rubbed against her entrance, the girthy, hot length dragging across her dry slit, teasing her clit with slow, purposeful strokes.
He was toying with her, and she felt it. Every intentional grind, every pulse of his shaft against her sensitive folds. She let him, wanting to feel what this man, the First Man, could do to her. His hands on her breasts were rough, kneading her flesh with a hunger that sent shivers through her core. She didn't mind his eager touch; it was all new, all thrilling. He was the first man to touch her like this.
"And this…" Marshall growled.
___________________
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