Pat Savage in 'bronze Lust'

DISCLAIMER: The author makes no claim on any of the characters contained herein who originally appeared in "Doc Savage Magazine."

This story is copyright 1998 by Pulp Fan. I'd love to hear reaction from readers; I can be emailed at the address on this site or by clicking on feedback.

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Chapter One Bronze Knockout

It happened because Pat's pussy whimpered.

Of course, if Doc Savage had been in town, it likely wouldn't have happened at all--at least not the way it turned out. That's because if Doc were in town, his five aides would probably have been in town with him, and Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett Mayfair--better known to his friends as Monk--would have been staying over at Pat Savage's place for the night.

However, the Man of Bronze and his crew had left New York suddenly, without telling Pat where they had gone. This was a precautionary bit of work on Doc's part, for if his adventure loving cousin had known that they were leaving the country on one of their many adventures, Doc would have had to spend a great deal of time in making sure Pat didn't finagle her way into the middle of it. Although Doc Savage would probably have argued that he performed his work for the good of mankind, rather than from any love of excitement and danger, the truth was that this thrill seeker mentality ran deep in the Savage genes, and Pat's impressive figure had a whopping share of it. Sometimes Doc felt that it was more work stopping Pat from worming her way into the middle of their latest adventure and keeping Pat out of trouble than it was to solve the trouble in the first place.

And so Doc and the fabulous five had departed for climes unknown, leaving his gorgeous cousin to her own devices.

Although they were an incongruous couple, the simian-seeming Monk and the bronzed bombshell Pat had one thing in common--an insatiable love for sex. Having discovered their mutual interest some months ago, many of Monk's nights in the city were spent over at Pat's penthouse apartment, fucking until late in the evening, and often resuming the following morning, as one or the other of the couple would wake the other up by their oral ministrations. The first time Pat had seen Monk naked, her eyes had widened in astonishment before she exclaimed that his nickname should have been Horse. The affair had, to this point, been kept a secret, since both felt that the Man of Bronze would have more than frowned on their relationship--and indeed, might even come to blows with Monk if he felt that the chemist had taken advantage of his cousin.

It was for this reason that Pat, despite her attraction to one of Doc's other aides, Ham, had done little more than fantasize about doing Monk and Ham together--assuming, for the moment, that she could have convinced them to put aside their perpetual quarrel for a few hours. She had concluded that, in all likelihood, even if she were willing to increase the risk that Doc would learn of her affair with Monk, Monk and Ham would leave her frustrated, left to take matters into her own skilled hands, while they argued over who got to plunge his cock into her wet pussy and who would be brought to climax by Pat's well trained tongue and lips.

Although Monk was travelling with his companions in danger, the luscious lady adventurer was roused from slumber by the lapping of a rough tongue across her bronzed skin. The owner of this wet appendage, however, was not Monk--whose ability to bring her to orgasm after orgasm while eating her delicious cunt continued not only to amaze her but also served to further endear Monk to Pat. Rather, the tongue in question belonged to Pat's latest love.

Groaning softly as she struggled awake and used her hand to push the tongue and its owner away from her face, where it had cleaned her cheek thoroughly, Pat propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at the other occupant of the bed. Though it was early in the morning, the sun streaming into the room was scarcely less radiant than the female Savage. Bronze hair, slightly dishevelled from sleep, cascaded past her shoulders and down her back, with a few wisps resting on and partially obscuring her tanned breasts. With the bedsheet bunched up down about her waist, Pat's golden globes were exposed to the morning sun, large and firm, tipped with crinkled coral nipples which seemed to be begging to be kissed and caressed.

The effect was, unfortunately, lost on the other occupant of the bed, down upon whom Patricia Savage stared fondly with gold-flecked eyes.

A pair of feline eyes stared unblinkingly back at her.

"So, how'd you sleep, Curlers?" she asked the tan cat lying next to her, reaching out a hand to stroke its fur. A soft purring was the only reply.

The cat was a recent acquisition of Pat's. A few weeks before, she had gone shopping in the city and, upon returning to her car, was surprised to find a tan kitten waiting outside of it, meowing piteously. The cat had no collar or tag, but seemed to know that it had found a soft touch. Pat had taken the cat back to her place, where it had promptly made itself at home both in her apartment and her heart.

It had been Monk who had suggested that, since his pig was named Habeas Corpus while Ham's ape bore the moniker Chemistry, what the cat needed was a name that evoked, in some way, Pat's business. This business--not her business of getting into trouble, but the one at which she pulled in the green stuff--was operating a beauty salon.

To say that it was an upscale salon would have been a gross underexaggeration. Operated in an exclusive location on Park Avenue, the salon catered to all of the leaders of fashion in the city, charging outrageous prices and making the clientele love it. As Doc had dryly commented to Pat on more than one occasion, highway robbers could take a few tips from her.

And so Pat had decided on the name "Curlers" for her new companion.

Finishing scratching her pussy cat's head, Pat jumped out of bed. The sight of Pat jumping out of bed was enough to make a strong man go weak in the knees and develop problems swallowing. Pat liked to sleep in the raw--a trait much appreciated by Monk--and watching Pat get out of bed was one of his favorite activities, though not quite as favorite as getting her into bed. Men called Doc Savage a physical marvel; seeing his physique, they could only stare in amazement at what the human body could, given the proper genetics and training, be molded into. What men called his cousin, Pat Savage, was generally along the same lines, though generally including the words bombshell, dropdead, knockout and gorgeous in copious amounts. Having inherited the Savage genes, Pat's nearly six foot frame had been developed through plenty of physical activity--including boxing and fencing lessons which had made her more than a match for most men in these sports--and had stayed in fighting trim through a routine of regular exercise. Though Pat loved to scrap and would do nearly anything to get herself inserted into one of Doc's adventures, on a more day-to-day basis the chief benefit she derived from her exercise routine--in addition to maintaining one of Manhattan's most stunning bodies--was the increased sexual stamina her exercise program gave her.

Pat was not only insatiable, when it came to sex, she was practically inexhaustible. She liked nothing better than to ride on Monk's cock for hours, driving it in and out of her wet pussy while her bronzed thighs, glistening with her sweat, went up and down, up and down, pulling herself nearly off his penis and then dropping back down on it until it was buried fully inside her. The only problem was that usually she could keep it up a lot longer than Monk could keep it up, but Pat didn't mind. Not only did she love the feel of his cum shooting into her and coating the inside of her quim, by the time Monk let go with his load, she generally had already brought herself to several crashing climaxes from riding his cock and grinding her clit into his groin or rubbing herself with her fingers while fucking him. And if she wanted more, cleaning the mixture of her pussy juice and Monk's cum off of his cock with her lips and tongue, all the while smiling at him with wide, innocent golden eyes, was always enough to get him ready for another round.

Monk liked to think he was in shape, and he was though he didn't exercise, but just watching Doc Savage perform the two hours of exercise he undertook each day made Monk sweat. Watching Pat perform her exercises had the same effect on him, with the added effect of invariably giving him a raging hard-on. Since her workout program inevitably made her extremely horny by its finish, this came in quite handy.

On this morning, however, only the eyes of Curlers the cat were witness to Pat's lithe form bouncing out of bed. The sheet fell away from her toned body, revealing her long muscular legs, topped by a neatly trimmed triangle of bronze pubic hair, as Pat made her way from the bed, across the plush carpeting that covered the floor to the radio--an experimental model designed by Doc which cut down considerably on static, as well as requiring almost no time to warm up.

As music began to fill the room, Pat began her morning exercise routine, stretching her shapely arms towards the ceiling, causing her slightly bouncing breasts to lift up as if offering their pink tips in worship to the gods, while Curlers looked on with an expression that might have been boredom--but in a cat, who could tell?

For half an hour, Pat worked out to the strains emanating from the radio, causing her breasts and ass cheeks to jiggle enticingly, working up a healthy sweat until her entire bronzed body stood glistening, leaving her looking like some prehistoric jungle queen after the rains. The wetness between her thighs, however, was not due entirely to perspiration. Working out always made her delectable pussy juices flow and invariably left her horny and eager to fuck. It was with a sigh of regret that she thought once more about her absent lover.

Finally finished with and panting slightly from her exertions, Pat padded into the bathroom, grabbing her bathrobe along the way, and stepped into the shower. Not wanting to let her out of his sight, Curlers followed along behind and curled up on the bathroom rug. As the water poured over Pat's lithe form, she soaped herself thoroughly, lathering her taut stomach and muscular thighs, enjoying the feeling of the tiny jets of water cascading off her body, shampooing and rinsing her luxurious bronze hair.

Squeaky clean at last, Pat began to daydream about the last time she and Monk had showered together. Dropping to her knees before him and gazing up at him with a devilish grin across her luscious lips, she had lathered up his cock and balls and slowly began to jerk him off with her skilled hands, pausing occasionally to lightly run her fingernails across his scrotum. As she thought about the encounter, her hands moved slowly up her young body, sliding across her stomach until they cupped her breasts, pushing them up and together so that tiny rivulets of water, like miniature waterfalls, cascaded from her rapidly hardening nipples. Her fingers grasped the engorged peaks between them and she began to twist and pull on them gently, shooting sparks of pleasure throughout her and causing her cunt to moisten further in anticipation. Bending her head down, she flicked her agile tongue across the crimson tips while she recalled how Monk had stared down at her and begged her to take him into her hot, wet mouth. Smiling, Pat remembered her refusal to do so, and how she had kept stroking his ten inch dick, pausing now and then as the suds were washed away to soap it up more thoroughly. Monk had clutched the walls of the shower and groaned at the exquisite sensations as he grew closer and closer to cumming--then he had gasped even louder as one of Pat's soapy fingers had worked its way between his nether cheeks and into his ass, probing as her other hand increased its speed, travelling from the head of his cock to its base and then back again, gently twisting as it went back and forth.

By this point in her reminiscing, one of Pat's hands had left her breasts and slid back down her stomach, through her neatly trimmed bush and spread the folds of her labia, loving the feel of the warm water coursing along the folds of her vagina. Leaning back against the shower wall, she slowly stroked her clitoris, sliding her fingers around and around her pussy, dipping two fingers into the moist heat of her cunt and bringing them back out, spreading her love juices on her clit as she teased it and felt it harden between her legs. Waves of pleasure spread through her body as her other hand alternately fondled and pinched her nipples, moving from one globe to the other, playing with the turgid tips. Groaning with delight, she finally slid this hand too down her body, around her side until it reached her luscious ass, sliding it soapily back and forth between her ass cheeks, brushing and teasing her asshole as it went up and down, up and down, all the while the fingers of her other hand were slipping back and forth, gently rubbing her clit as the hot water poured down upon her.

Getting closer and closer to bringing herself off, Pat needed to feel something filling her hot cunt. Reluctantly moving her left hand from her ass, she reached out and pushed against one of the shower tiles. It swung open on a spring hinge, revealing a hidden compartment. Reaching in, Pat withdrew a porcelain dildo of exquisite workmanship and impressive size--a gift from Monk procured during a recent excursion to India. Grasping the artificial cock by its base, she let the water play over it for a moment before bringing it swiftly to her heated cunt. Using the fingers of her right hand to spread her lower lips apart, she slowly and tantalizingly inserted the slick dildo into her pussy, pushing it past her tight opening until several inches were buried inside of her. Closing her eyes, Pat began to rub her clit faster and faster, all the while plunging the hard shaft in and out of her sopping quim. As she climbed towards her orgasm, her mind remembered what she had asked Monk, as one hand jerked him off and the other slid a slim finger in and out of his ass.

"Do you want to squirt that nice cum all over my face?" she had asked her lover as his breathing came faster and faster and his hips began jerking more rapidly in rhythm with her demanding hand.

"Oh yeah, Pat..." he had moaned, "I want to cum all over you...on your face...on your tits...I want to spray you with my cum...it feels so good..."

"Then do it baby, cum all over me, cum all over me!" she had commanded as her hand stroked his cock faster and faster. With a load groan, Monk exploded in orgasm, cum jetting out from his spasming cock and splattering Pat all over her eager face and firm, bronzed breasts, coating her with glistening milky drops, partially obscuring her coral nipples with a translucent sheen. Monk's third spurt Pat caught in her open mouth, pink tongue extended to catch the white tribute she was milking from her lover's dick. As Monk finished cumming and leaned back against the shower wall with a sigh, Pat ducked her head forward and licked up from the base of his dick to its head, collecting the gooey mess on her tongue, before ducking her head down further and, using her hands to lift her tits, licking her breasts clean of his jism before the rushing water could rinse it all away.

Remembering the taste of Monk's juice in her mouth, Pat came hard in the shower, little guttural cries escaping her tensed lips, as she slammed the wet dildo in and out of her dripping twat and furiously rubbed her clit. Knees nearly buckling, she spasmed again and again, thrusting her hips back against the welcoming shaft which was being driven deeper and deeper into her, as waves of pleasure swept through her nubile body. Her talented fingers wildly continued their erotic dance of self gratification, frantically massaging her clit and cuntlips, eking out the final peaks of her climax. Finally, she slumped back exhausted, the porcelain proxy--its task completed--sliding gently out of her pussy and falling to the shower floor.

After spending a few moments to relax and enjoy the euphoric glow which infused her shivering body, Pat reluctantly reached out and shut off the water before stepping out of the shower stall. Drying herself with a fluffy towel, she smiled down at Curlers.

"Cat, I love you to pieces, but at times like these, I wish you were six foot tall and of a different species."

Showing no sign that he had understood, Curlers just stared back at his mistress, waiting until she had dried her legs before he pounced forward and began rubbing himself contentedly along her calf, purring softly.

"So, I'm not the only one who's purring, hmmm?" she laughed as she moved back into her bedroom to get dressed. Throwing on a white blouse and blue skirt, Pat completed her morning preparations by eating a quick breakfast while reading the morning paper, before brushing her long, silky hair. As usual, she did not apply any makeup. Not only was it unnecessary given her ravishing beauty, if she could have marketed the natural, healthy glow of her skin, she could have made a fortune.

"Well, Curlers, it's time for mommy to go out into the big bright world," she said, as she knelt down on the floor by the front door and gathered her pet in her arms. "I have to go see how work is coming on the new part of the salon, so we can get it up and running and keep you in milk and gourmet cat food like you've become accustomed to." As she stroked the purring cat's fur, his little tongue rasped affectionately against Pat's hand.

"Give mommy a kiss," Pat said, lifting the cat up where she could give him a peck on the forehead. "Now be a good kitty and don't make a complete mess of things."

Pat released Curlers and rose to her feet. It was at that point, as Pat opened the door to leave for the day, that her pussycat whimpered.