wonder woman

Page 1

Dear Journal,

Marlin helped me into the Wonder Woman costume. The corset was tight. He was already shirtless, in just his Greek warrior skirt. “So,” he said, adjusting my tiara, his voice low. “What would happen if Wonder Woman saw a really big dick?”

I laughed, getting into the bit. “She’d be… angry at first. How dare a man be so bold? But if we're talking about a big meaty dick, she'd be unable to resist. She'd be astounded.”

He nodded, serious. “Only one way to find out for sure.” He guided my head down toward his lap. I went. To get in character.

Page 2

At the party, I was just a guy in a dress getting laughs. But I knew the truth. In our bathroom, I’d found out. Wonder Woman wouldn’t just be astounded. She’d be reverent. She’d worship.

So I did. I knelt on the tile. I took him in my mouth, the taste of salt and skin filling my senses until he shuddered and finished. I swallowed. For the bit. For the character. It was just part of the costume. 

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/13894242

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59f75738aa39a 

playboy bunny 

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/47183591

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/18414321

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/18414371

sailor moon

https://jp.pornhub.com/gif/1876291 

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/4269121 

asohka

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/12533351 

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph590a3b7a33fc8 

doctor

https://it.pornhub.com/gif/38121841

business woman

https://pl.pornhub.com/gif/36564541

https://www.pornhub.com/gif/51261071

https://es.pornhub.com/gif/50261961

https://es.pornhub.com/gif/53230781 


Page 1

Dear Journal,
Marlin’s Halloween party idea was simple: couples’ costumes. He went as Steve Trevor. I was Wonder Woman. The lasso, the boots, the star-spangled briefs. I felt powerful. Then, in his garage before the party, he showed me his “secret weapon.” My Wonder Woman saw Steve’s… pistol. The script wrote itself.
Page 2

She would be curious. A heroine inspecting a powerful artifact. Then… enthralled. In character, I knelt. The fabric of my costume strained. My lips parted. Diana of Themyscira would absolutely taste the might of man. The garage smelled like motor oil and my lipstick. I swallowed Steve’s patriotism. We were late to the party.
Page 3

Dear Journal,
The Playboy Mansion theme was Marlin’s idea. He was Hef, robe and pipe. I was the bunny: corset, cuffs, ears, fluffy tail. We pre-gamed at his place. “Getting into character,” he said, dropping his robe. Hef didn’t have… that. A bunny’s instinct is to nibble. My character’s curiosity was insatiable.
Page 4

In character, a Playboy Bunny is trained to please. She sees a massive… carrot. Her duty is clear. I got on my knees, ears tickling my cheeks. The corset dug in. I felt the fluffy tail against my back. The character didn’t just nibble. She feasted. We missed the mansion. Hef’s “grotto” was better.
Page 5

Dear Journal,
Anime convention. Marlin was Tuxedo Mask, dashing and mysterious. I was Sailor Moon, in a blue pleated skirt and blonde wig. “For the moon’s justice,” I declared, my voice high. Backstage, he revealed his “Mask’s Rose.” My Sailor Moon’s eyes went wide. Evil was not the only thing to be defeated.
Page 6

In the lore, Sailor Moon is pure of heart. But seeing that… her purity took a new form. A devotional act. The wig slipped as I bowed before the rose. My sailor senshi were screaming. I made a new transformation sequence, swallowing the rose’s power. We never made our panel. The convention floor buzzed without us.
Page 7

Dear Journal,
Star Wars night. Marlin made a convincing Anakin. I sewed the Lekku for my Ahsoka head-tails. “The Force is strong with this one,” he grinned, hand on his belt. My Ahsoka is a disciplined warrior. But even a Jedi Padawan’s training doesn’t cover the sheer, terrifying power of the Dark Side… up close.
Page 8

A true Jedi faces her fears. Studies the enemy’s weapon. My head-tails bounced as I inspected the lightsaber hilt. It hummed with a different energy. My character’s resolve to understand the enemy’s power was… comprehensive. I tasted the Dark Side. It was salty. We forgot about the movie marathon. The Force was with us.
Page 9

Dear Journal,
Hospital fundraiser. He was a cocky surgeon, scrubs unbuttoned. I was a nurse—starched dress, white cap, little cape. “Time for a physical,” he said, stethoscope in hand. My nurse was professional. Until the “exam” required a review of the primary… instrument. Medicine demands a hands-on approach. For science.
Page 10

A good nurse administers care without prejudice. The dosage was… substantial. My cap went askew. The starch of my dress chafed my knees. I took his vitals orally. The prognosis was excellent. Very healthy. We donated to the hospital anonymously. Our “research” in his on-call room was its own charitable contribution.
Page 11

Dear Journal,
Last night: “Corporate Takeover” party. Marlin was the brash CEO, power suit. I was his sleek, sharp-tongued executive assistant, pencil skirt, glasses. “We need to discuss the merger,” he said, closing his office door. My assistant knew how to handle big… deals. To secure the partnership at any cost.
Page 12

Negotiation is about leverage. About swallowing pride—or anything else—to close the deal. My glasses fogged. The pencil skirt ripped a little. I negotiated terms until the deal was sealed. A hostile takeover, completed. We never made it to the party. The after-hours merger was all the business we needed. My tie was straight. His wasn’t.

Page 1

Dear Journal,

Marlin and I are going as Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. Marlin says to get into character, we must fully believe. He’s in his aviator jacket. I’m in the corset, feeling the satin. He says Diana would be awestruck by Steve, by his… presence. My heart hammers. I know what comes next.

Page 2

We face each other. He unzips. The reveal is still a shock. Diana, warrior princess, would be undone by such a sight—a mortal man, so profoundly… gifted. My mouth waters. I drop to my knees. The script writes itself. In this moment, I am not me. I am her. And she is ravenous.

Page 3

Dear Journal,

Tonight, Playboy Mansion theme. I’m the Bunny: ears, cuffs, tail. Marlin’s Hef, robe and pipe. The ritual begins. He opens his robe. The fantasy is that a Bunny, chosen for the Grotto, sees this. Protocol evaporates. Awe, then hunger takes over. The character’s lust is a safe river for my own shock to flow down.

Page 4

I practice the Bunny’s coy look, but it shatters when I see him. The character’s single thought: I must taste that. I become a creature of pure appetite, servicing the Founder. The velvet ears bob as I work. It’s not me. It’s the role. The role is a bottomless, swallowing thing.

Page 5

Dear Journal,

Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask. My skirt is absurdly short. Marlin’s cape is dramatic. We lock eyes. He says, “What if Mask’s secret weapon wasn’t a rose?” He unveils it. Sailor Moon, protector of love, would be conquered by it. My transformation sequence is from man to kneeling, open-mouthed devotion.

Page 6

I cry out, “Moon Prism Power!” but the magic is here. I’m channeling Usagi’s total, dramatic passion. Every slurp, every gasp is her worship. I am a magical girl, and this is my ultimate destiny. To be filled with his light. It’s so silly. It’s so devastatingly hot. I am lost in her.

Page 7

Dear Journal,

Star Wars party. I’m Ahsoka. The head-tails feel heavy. Marlin’s a Jedi Knight. We meditate. He opens his tunics. “A Jedi’s connection to the Force is profound,” he murmurs. My Ahsoka would sense this raw, living power. Her curiosity would be carnal. My hands shake as I reach out.

Page 8

I tell him, “I feel your… Force.” He smiles. Ahsoka is bold, a warrior. She takes what she needs. I take him into my mouth, the lekku swinging. I’m not sucking; I’m drawing the dark side from him. Each pulse is a lesson. I swallow the galaxy he gives me.

Page 9

Dear Journal,

Medical conference costume gala. I’m the nurse. He’s the rogue surgeon. “Nurse, I require… assistance.” His scrub bottoms drop. The fantasy: the sterile, professional world ruptured by sheer, primal biology. My character’s clinical composure melts into hypnotized, lustful examination. I diagnose him with a severe case of needing my mouth.

Page 10

I use “medical terminology,” whispering about salivation and treatment. He orders me to administer it. I do, with thorough, clinical precision. The white cap falls off. I am no longer a healer, but a vessel for the cure. I drink the bitter, life-giving medicine. The diagnosis is terminal lust.

Page 11

Dear Journal,

Final party. Corporate “Success” theme. I’m the sleek businesswoman. He’s the cutthroat CEO. Power dynamics are our costume. He corners me by the “water cooler.” “You’re overdressed for a merger,” he growls. The reveal. The fantasy: my boardroom armor vaporizes. A hostile takeover happens on my knees.

Page 12

I negotiate with my mouth. Every swallow is a signed contract, a settled deal. The taste is my signing bonus. The character’ ruthless ambition is redirected to a single, wet, all-consuming goal: please the CEO. I do. Thoroughly. The party hasn’t started, but we’ve already won. We always do.

Page 1
Dear Journal,
Tonight was Wonder Woman. The costume felt powerful, the boots fierce. Marlin was Steve Trevor, all confident swagger. Our pre-party ritual started. He unzipped. My Amazonian composure shattered. My knees found the floor. I was no longer a hero, just a woman faced with a god’s gift. My mouth watered.

Page 2
The theory held. Diana Prince would be undone by this. I took him in, a mortal worshipping a divine weapon. The party was a blur afterwards. Every smile I gave, every laugh, was a secret homage to the taste of him, to the power of becoming her for him. It worked.

Page 3
Dear Journal,
Playboy Bunny. Silky ears, a satin corset. Marlin was Hef, robe and all. The character felt naturally coy, flirtatious. We got into position. His robe fell open. The absurdity faded. My Bunny persona didn't giggle; she gasped. The sheer scale of him demanded a different, primal protocol. I knelt, dutiful.

Page 4
I understood the lore then. The mansion’s secret. It wasn't the parties. It was this. Serving this monument was the real initiation. My painted lips parted. The party was a performance of my new knowledge. Every sway of my hips was a silent tribute to the heavy truth I’d just swallowed.

Page 5
Dear Journal,
Sailor Moon. A transformation sequence of my own. Marlin was Tuxedo Mask, mysterious. My speech was full of justice and love. Then, his “mask” came off. My moon-princess resolve was a delicate crystal, and his revelation shattered it. Justice fled. Only a deep, craving hunger remained. I fell to my knees, not in defeat.

Page 6
In the name of the moon, I accepted my duty. To worship, to adore. The party was a sweet dream. But the memory was the nectar—thick, potent, real. My pigtails bounced as I danced, a girl drunk on a secret far more powerful than any evil she was meant to fight.

Page 7
Dear Journal,
Ahsoka. Warrior stance, lekku head-tails. Marlin was a Jedi Knight, stoic. We discussed the Force. His “lightsaber” was revealed. My own strength felt like a child’s toy. The warrior in me didn't fight; she surrendered. A higher power called. I answered with a reverent, open mouth, abandoning my post.

Page 8
This was the true trial. Not of combat, but of devotion. I passed. The white pillars of his gift were my new temple. At the party, my movements were fluid, my smile knowing. I had touched the source. I carried its weight on my tongue, a sacred knowledge that made me fearless.

Page 9
Dear Journal,
The Doctor. Lab coat, stethoscope. Serious. Marlin was the patient, grinning. A “full examination” was needed. His “ailment” was profound. My clinical demeanor evaporated. This required… field medicine. Of the most intimate kind. My professional curiosity became raw, urgent fascination. I prescribed immediate oral intervention. The diagnosis was severe worship.

Page 10
I treated the condition thoroughly. The party felt like a wellness check for the world. I was the carrier of a potent, living cure. Every interaction was infused with the calm of one who has intimately known a magnificent, overwhelming truth. The ultimate healing was for my own starved soul.

Page 11
Dear Journal,
Businesswoman. Power suit, sharp heels. Marlin was the rival CEO. We negotiated. His final, unbeatable offer was presented. All my leverage vanished. My corporate armor melted. To close this deal, absolute submission was the only term. I got under the desk, a merger of ambition and awe. A hostile, delicious takeover.

Page 12
I acquired the asset. The party was a boardroom of fools. I held the controlling interest. The memory of his equity on my tongue, the taste of pure market dominance. Each click of my heels on the floor was a reminder: I succeeded. I sealed the deal. I am his most loyal subsidiary.

Page 1
Dear Journal,

The party theme was superheroes. I thought it would be funny to go as Wonder Woman. Marlin went as a Spartan, just a leather skirt and a cape. As we got ready, he got serious. “Getting into character,” he said. “What would Wonder Woman do if she saw a truly formidable… weapon?” I played along, describing her awe. “Only one way to know for sure,” he murmured. He guided my costumed hand to his skirt’s hem.

Page 2
I lifted it. The thing hung there, heavy and thick. I was, honestly, astounded. My character’s conclusion was clear: a goddess would worship strength. So Wonder Woman did. She knelt. She took him in her mouth until he finished. I swallowed. It was salty. We were late to the party. My lips felt bruised. It was just acting, a method exercise. It didn’t mean anything. We’re just roommates who commit to the bit.