    (Layla Miller is a girl who can see the future, dreamed up by Marvel comics; She's in X-factor if you want to read her better illustrated and less sexual adventures after this) 
   Layla Miller's First Orgasm
 	I'm Layla Miller. I know stuff.
	I know that if I'm like most mutants my sex drive and powers should have kicked in about the same time. But first I was mocked and abused in the orphanage, then I was starved and frozen on the streets.
	I know that masochism is the most common female sexual perversion, but to be turned on by those would be taking it to an extreme.
	Now I am warm. I am fed. I am not loved yet. But I will Be! I know my benefactor is my future husband ;-).
	So... well... 
	The time has come! The time is Now! Little Layla is ready to masturbate; Wow!
	First I wash my hands. If I don't it would be like making love to everything I touched today.
	`You are very handsome Mr. Doorknob. But you are not my one true love'
	***I know I am destined to  marry James Madrox, The multiple man. It is an Anglican wedding. One of his dupes is a married(!?) Anglican minister.... Ok it's worse for the dupes wife than for me, don't weird out.
	Doom gives me away. I suppose I am technically a ward of the state, but how does the state become Latveria? Don't worry about it.
	"If he doesn't hurt you, ever, he either doesn't love you or isn't human. If he hurts you more than you can bear, remember; you can call on me." He whispers walking me up the aisle.
	My first kiss as Jamie's wife, tastes of purple skittles. He was sneak-sucking my favorite candy all through the ceremony for that moment! 
	I Love my man/men!
	Wolverine catches my garter. With his enhanced smell and the amount of pheromones I am putting off... Good. He will get drunk and gossip, and there will be no doubt I'm really in looooovvvvve.
		I am tired and sore when the dance at reception is done.
	I am even more excited.
	I felt Jamie's `need' pressing against me through every slow dance we did. I know he wants this worse than I do.
	But he is slow and gentle. He kisses my lips and neck. A spiraling figure 8 of kisses around my breasts. Listens to my heart while sucking my nipple.
	I am a virgin (was I ever REALLY a virgin?), he deflowered three virgins over the several hundred lives he lived through his many dupes so he knows how to work me.
	His mouth on my womanhood sucking licking lapping my bud, mine on his manhood stimulate it in turn; driving me into a frenzy of hunger, driving out all thoughts but sexual need. Making me forget my name, making me forget my futures, making me forget how to feel pain.
	And when I am beyond pain he penetrates me. 	
	OooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooo. Sweet Stan Lee! 
	Hehehheheeheheh. He is a minute man, and me a minute woman to. He really did know what he was doin!. What a minute!***
	My hands are clean.
	I slip into my bed and try to get comfortable. I need to be nice and warm under my blankets. Cuddling is warm, I need to feel cuddled.
	I wrap the blanket just right around me. I make sure I have a pillowcase in case I drool while fantasy kissing.
	Oh my I forgot to brush my teeth! No cavities in my future as long as I remember tomorrow morning.
	For a minute or two, I HATE Jamie!
	HATE HATE HATE HIM!
	He is sleeping alone in his oversized bed, not thinking of what a cuddle would mean to me. So worried about his self image as a hero who isn't a child molester, that he never thinks how maybe being f*cked is a fair price for all the good it would do me to feel loved.
	***I know I am destined to have three children with him. I know in time he learns to control what parts of his soul get emphasized in his dupes.
	All the gentleness, compassion, paternal instincts they're poured into the dupe who babysits for us. I take the bad boy, the noir man to bed.
	I hit him! For the pain of each child birth! For the months of breastfeeding stay home moming while he had adventures, for the way I sometimes overlooked his dupes love lives. I hit him. Hard. And often.
	He starts as one. There were six of him when I finished. They hold me down. They F*cked all my holes, roughly anger and lust flowing together.
	The rage, the need I felt flowing through his rods. They frightened me. They let me see the power I held over him to inspire such passion. They excited me.
	I whimpered in pain and screamed in pleasure, I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
	"I hate you" one of him whispers in my ear after most of them shot there seeds.
	"I love you" another said.
	"everyone always hurts the people they love" I reply to both.
	I wonder how non-super couples ever managed to deal with the mixed feelings that come from a real relationship. As Jamie pulled himself back together and massaged some of my muscles he pulled out place, I'm glad I won't need to find out.***
	I'm finally warm... and hot....
	My hand reached down between my legs. 
	I know how to do it. I know lots of stuff. Duhh.
	The feeling is almost too intense. It almost scares me into stopping.
	My body is still innocent. I remember a whole life time of love. But I am still a scared little girl.
	***I know that predestination and free will are both real. I have the power to choose my future.
	But one future is best, and that is the one I will choose.
	I am a complex mix of machinery  ,meat and `soft' technology that combines the two. It is unnatural. It is the only way I can still be alive and strong enough to dance at my great grand-daughter wedding.
	Jamie dies in my arms years before, but a dupe who was caught in a time travel incident decades before decided to stay true to his wife.  So at 107 I have a young 72 year old boy toy on my arm.
	We'll dance the crazy dances of the youngest generation for whom super powers will be the new normal. We danced the classics from my youth when a Homo Sapien  really can keep up on the dance floor.
	"Unless I misremember my medical training Amy is pregnant. That is four generations now who our love made" he'll whisper to me as we slow dance.
	I will kiss him passionately and grind in to him. His body responds to me.
	Each of my children grandchildren  and great grandchildren will hold me that night. 40 people will tell me they love me and mean it. 
	My heart beat I can feel all through the evening. In part because of passion. In part because...
	Later when we are in bed together I kiss him. I`ll have some plastic surgery to cut decades off my appearance. But I'll still be a 107 years old, and he over 70. It was a strong passion nothing weak can create 39 people! 
	But getting hot and sweaty still involved almost an hour of clever things with lips and fingers to make sure we were both in the mood without hurting either of us.
	A well spent hour.
	The years fell away and he grew rock hard and hungry. My heart pounded. My sense of math told me it beat faster when I was a horny teenager. But speed is not everything. Years taught me often speed is barely anything.
	Finally I knew the time was right so I lay back and let him penetrate me.
	20 minute of passionate thrusting, my back hurt but I wonn't care. My heart hurt and I welcomed it.
	I will feel his sperm flooding my inside, and my heart beat faster still.
	OoOooOOoooOoooOOOOOOOOOO. Mighty Mark Millar!
	In French orgasms are `le petit mort'. Their will be nothing little about this death. I need to die at some point and this is the best.***
	My last sensation is loving, and being loved completely.
	My fingers are covered in my girl slime, and my body shuddered in climax.
	And I am all alone. And have no one to cuddle me. Now that I no longer have horniness to distract me the loneliness threatens to make me cry. But I'll be loved someday.
	I'm Layla Miller, and I know this stuff.





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