Sex In The X

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Marvel and not me. Thus, I will continue to be a struggling, poor writer who writes fan fiction simply for the joy that it brings and not to make any money. Sex in the X is dedicated to all the RoLo'ers who constantly strive to make Logan and Ororo the best X-couple in fan fiction. Oh yeah, and if you can't guess from the title- It's X-men meets Sex in the City so the story is told in Sex In the City fashion with Ororo being the narrator as she writes her column- "Ororo Munroe knows Sex!" I also took the liberty and gave Rogue the name "Rebecca" since I hated the name that they gave her in the X-men Movie. As far as the rating for this story- well, it is called Sex in the X. Have fun and enjoy!!!!

There was something special about winters in New York. Perhaps, it was the approaching "partying" holiday season or maybe it was simply that snow reveals the child in even the rudest New Yorker's heart. Whatever it was, winters in New York tended to bring out the best in all New Yorkers.

Four days before New Year's Eve, I found myself sighing contently as I stretched my arms high above my head. From my ideal view from bed, I could already tell that it was going to be a beautiful day in the city of New York. I practically purred as I snuggled deeper into the ruby red sheets mentally finalizing the details for my perfect New Year's Eve.

And perfect it would be. After all, Logan and I had now been dating for over a year. And while our relationship had faced the usually ups and downs, we had now entered what I call "the zone". We were comfortable with each other, but the romance was still alive and kicking. In fact, we had even- drum roll please- exchanged apartment keys, which was the first sure sign that we had now entered "the zone".

"'Ro," I turned over in bed to find Logan leaning against the doorframe still wet from his shower with a towel wrapped around his hips. "I think a lot of what we did last night is illegal in some states".

I arched my eyebrow and gave him my sexiest smile. "I won't tell if you won't."

He growled playfully as he dropped his towel and sprang for the bed. Squealing with delight, I suddenly found myself thanking the goddess for winters in New York. However, as Logan's hand stroked higher up my thighs, the ringing of the phone brought an abrupt halt to our celebration of the season.

"Shit," he snarled as he rolled over and snatched up the phone. "What?" he barked while running impatient fingers through his damp hair. I leaned over and began to rain kisses on his chest trying to calm the impatient beast. "Fox?" he suddenly questioned. I found my lips freezing in mid kiss at the name of his old girlfriend.

"What kind of name is Fox anyway," I asked as I stabbed my salad angrily.

"Screw the name," Betsy interrupted. "What did you say to him?"

I looked around the table at my three best friends. "There was nothing I could say." I admitted sullenly. "I supposed I could have played the hysterical, jealous girlfriend and demand that he didn't go, but I trust him. Besides, it's just dinner between old friends."

"You did the right thing," Jean said as she patted my hand.

"The hell she did. There is no such thing as 'just dinner between old friends' when the 'old friends' just happen to be old lovers," Betsy advised as she sipped her mineral water. "Ororo, you should have immediately dropped to your knees and given Logan a blow job that left him incapable of screwing for at least a week. Trust me, that's the only way to keep a man monogamous."

"That's not true…" Jean began.

"Betsy's right. The days when men could be trusted are over."

Three pair of eyes switched to Rebecca in shock.

"What did the bum do now?" Betsy, if you can't tell, tends to be the most vocal of the group.

"I walked into the bar last night and caught Remy all but sleeping with one of his customers." Remy was Rebecca's steady boyfriend- well at least most of the time anyway. The rest of the time was spent fighting for some reason or another. Usually, the arguments revolved around Rebecca working 14 hours days at the law firm or Remy refusing to get what Rebecca considered a "real" job. Personally, I believed if bartending made Remy happy, then Rebecca should accept it. But Rebecca was hell bent on pressuring Remy to get another job.

I pushed away my butchered salad. "Honey, I've known Remy for a long time and he isn't the cheating type. He may be the biggest flirt on this side of the Atlantic, but that's as far as it goes with Remy."

"You weren't there, Ororo. That bleached blond bitch had her tits right up in his face."

"Women naturally flirt with bartenders, but that hardly means that Remy was cheating on you," Jean good naturally said.

Betsy sat back in her chair and crossed her long, elegant legs. "Listen ladies, monogamous is an extinct beast that was last seen in the 19th century in some remote village in Africa."

"Don't say that," Jean admonished.

Betsy beckoned the waiter over. "Grow up, Jean. You can't have your cake and eat it too."

That night as I pretended to work on my column and not watch the clock wondering how Logan's date with Fox was going, I found myself thinking about what Betsy had said. As children, we read stories about Prince Charming marrying his Princess and carrying her away to his castle in the clouds. But is there a part two of the story that has yet to be told? Does Prince Charming eventually have an affair with one of the maids? And if so, is the Monogamous relationship a thing of the past?

Across town, Jean smiled as she glanced around her penthouse. After leaving lunch, she had dashed home to prepare all of Scott's favorite dishes. Thanks to the maid that came by twice a week, the penthouse was spotless. Mozart (which happened to be Scott's favorite) was playing softly while cinnamon scented candles were placed strategically throughout their home. And beneath her forest green robe was Scott's favorite forest green teddy. The sound of Scott's key in the lock triggered Jean into hurrying across the foyer to meet her loving husband.

"Hi, dear." Jean greeted as she helped Dr. Scott Summers out of his coat while handing him a glass of his favorite red wine. "How was your day?"

"Frustrating." Scott sighed deeply. "When did being a doctor become so political?"

Jean leaned in for a kiss only to find herself kissing the space where her husband had just occupied.

"I'm beat. I'm just going to take a shower and go straight to bed," Scott said as he headed towards their room.

"Sure, Scott," Jean muttered to the now empty room.

On the west side of the city, World War 3 was now in full force. "Ya lying, bastard," Rebecca screamed as she picked up a glass and threw it at Remy.

"Petite," Remy yelled as the glass hit the wall behind him. "I was just serving de lady a drink."

"Since when did serving a drink require ya to have your head in her breasts."

"It's not my fault her breasts reached over de bar," Remy attempted to joke.

"Get out!" Rebecca screamed as she searched for something else to throw.

"Chere, you got to listen to me. Nothin' happened. Nothin' would ever happen. I love you and only you."

Rebecca closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Please, Remy just go. I can't deal with this right now."

Remy took a step towards her reaching out a hand as if to touch her, but hearing the defeat in her voice he dropped his hand. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood there staring at each other before Remy turned and grabbed his coat. Rebecca bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out his name as Remy shut the door softly behind him.

"Agh!!!!," Elizabeth cried as Warren Worthington, the 3rd drove her to yet another mind blowing orgasm. What a way to end the day, Betsy thought as Warren dropped on top of her breathing hard from his own orgasm. Completely sated, Betsy spread her legs, allowing a now drowsy Warren to caress her.

"Betsy, what do you think about…" Warren started as he began to rain kisses on her face.

"Yes, Warren, that was the best sex yet," Betsy completed as she grind her hips against Warren.

Warren grinned down at Betsy. "Actually, I was thinking about what I wanted for my birthday.”

Elizabeth rolled over and smiled at Warren. “Seeing that I asked you well over a month ago and your birthday is four days away, I suppose you had better tell me. What would you like for your birthday?”

“Paige Guthrie.”

Elizabeth felt the smile on her face freeze. “What?”

Warren leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “Not what, babe, but who.”

“And just who is Paige Guthrie?” Betsy asked as calmly as she could.

“Remember the day I picked you up from your salon?” Warren started. “Well, there was a new girl up front, I think she was the receptionist. Anyway, she’s about 5’6, blond, a figure to die for….

“I get the picture,” Betsy growled slightly. “And you want me to get this girl for your birthday?”

“Think of it as a present for the both of us. Come on, Betsy. A little 3 way action to spice up the relationship.”

Betsy brushed her hair back from her face. “I wasn’t aware that our relationship needed spicing up.”

Warren sat up in bed. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable…”

Betsy held up a hand stopping Warren in mid sentence. “Of course, I’m comfortable. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “I needed to get my hair trimmed anyway. I’ll go by my salon tomorrow.

True to her word, the next morning Betsy and I found ourselves standing in front of her salon.

“Just tell him that Paige wasn’t interested,” I interjected.

Betsy rolled her eyes upward. “So he can go out and find some other young thing. I think not. At least this way, I know what to expect.”

“Betsy, why don’t you just tell Warren that you don’t want a threesome.” Mentally, I cringed at the thought. I’m all for allowing people to live their own lives, but Betsy was clearly bothered by the idea of sharing Warren in bed with another woman. Of course, he was clearly oblivious that over the course of their relationship, Betsy had fallen in love with him and she naturally wasn’t going to tell him how she felt. Hell, she had yet to admit it to herself.

“Ro,…” she started.

I decided to interrupt her before she allowed her stubbornness to destroy her first real relationship. “Honey, it’s o.k. We all do it. Falling in love is natural.”

“But I don’t want to,” she whined. “Why can’t I just have great sex without the feelings?”

“Because it’s the feelings that make the sex great,” I explained.

Betsy paused as she considered this new revelation. “So technically, Warren having sex with me would be better than sex with Paige…”

Now it was my turn to pause. Somehow, I had a bad feeling that Betsy had just added her own weird twist of what I was trying to tell her.

“And Warren will realize I’m the best fuck he has ever had.” Betsy continued not catching the look that I was giving her.”

“Betsy, I…”

“Ororo, what would I do without you?” Betsy asked as she walked into the salon not bothering to wait for an answer.”

Instead of following her in to watch her drive a stack into the heart of her relationship, I found myself staring up into the gray skies of New York. I was beginning to think that my perfect New Year’s Eve wasn’t going to be as perfect as I thought.



To Be Continued.....

Across town, Jean dropped her shopping bags as soon as she entered her apartment. After Scott had pretty much cold-shouldered her the entire night, Jean had sought refuge in the one activity that was guaranteed to stroke her wounded ego- shopping. But now after spending the entire morning at her favorite boutiques, Jean found that even shopping wasn’t helping her to figure out what was wrong with her marriage.

By all standards and to the outside world, the Summers had the perfect marriage. But like the imitation purses that street vendors like to sell, her marriage wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Not that she could tell anyone. No way. There were some things that a girl couldn’t even tell her best friends and one of those things was that after six months of marriage, she and Scott had yet to have sex.

Not that she felt marriage was all about sex. Jean did consider herself to be lucky to have such a kind and sweet husband. Scott was constantly showering her with gifts. In fact, he would give her anything that she wanted except for an orgasm.

During their engagement, Jean had just assumed that Scott was being a gentleman and simply waiting for their wedding night in order to bring their love full circle. But their honeymoon had simply consisted of sightseeing , lying on the beach and more sightseeing. By the time they made it home, Jean was at a lost as to why Scott wouldn’t touch her. So she did what any mature woman would do- she searched the internet.

Armed with pages of information, Jean went about the ways of seduction. During dinner, she would rub her foot up and down his leg before placing her foot in his lap. Scott had simply asked if she wanted a foot massage. She had bought every teddy that she could find. But as far as Scott was concerned, she could have been sleeping in a garbage bag.

Finally, one night she has simply rolled over and began to kiss him. At first, he had responded, and he had even began to caress her. But just as she had reached into his pajamas, he sat up in bed as if he had been shot. Confused, Jean had tried to comfort him. However, he pushed her away saying that he was going to go get some work done. Hurt, Jean had simply rolled over to her side of the bed and cried herself to sleep. That had been three months ago, and since then the Summers had settled into somewhat of a routine- a routine of no sex.

The sounds of groans and moans coming from her bedroom started Jean from her thoughts. When she had left that morning to go shopping, she had left Scott in bed. Panicked that Scott might be hurt, Jean rushed into the their bedroom to find Scott masturbating.

Eyes closed, Scott feverishly worked his hand up and down his swollen penis in an attempt to bring himself relief oblivious to the fact that he now had an audience. In the bed next to him was a Playgirl magazine with Emma Frost as the centerfold.
For the first time in her life, Jean knew raged. For six months, she had racked her brain trying to figure out if something was wrong with her. For six months, she had cried and belittled herself when all along her husband was getting off to a magazine.

“Scott!!!!!” Jean yelled. “You bastard. You fucking bastard. How could you?”

Scott eyes flew opened as he found himself face to face with an angry red head. “Jean, what…”

“I’ve thrown myself at you for six months and you’ve pushed me away every time so you could masturbate with a magazine,” Jean cried as she approached the bed.

Scott jumped from the bed. “You don’t understand…”

“I understand that my husband won’t touch me.”

“If you would just listen…”

“I’m sick of listening to you. Just go back to your sick little magazine and leave me the hell alone.”

Rebecca sat on the couch willing the phone to ring. Where was Remy? Usually after she threw him out, he would walk around the neighborhood for a couple of hours only to return and to make passionate love to her. But this time he hadn’t even bothered to call.

Rebecca got up and began to pace. If he expected her to call him, then he had another thing coming. He was the one who was supposed to call and beg her forgiveness. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly 24 hours had passed and no Remy. Angry, Rebecca reached for the phone. Remy was about to get the blessing of his life. However before she could lift the phone, someone knocked on her door.
“That’s more like it,” Rebecca muttered to herself as she paused to check her make-up in the mirror. “I’ll make him grovel for a couple hours before I finally forgive him. But it wasn’t Remy at her door. It was an upset Ororo, a frowning Betsy and a crying Jean.
“What in the hell?” Rebecca asked as she moved to allow her three friends into her apartment.

“My husband is a pervert,” Jean whined as she dropped to the couch.

“Paige Guthrie is a fucking knock out,” Betsy said as she moved to the bar to pour drinks.

Rebecca turned to me. “Your turn.”

“Oh, nothing. Except Logan pretends to not realize that I’m extremely pissed at him for going out with Fox.” I growled as I accept my drink from Betsy.

“Men, you can’t live with them and you can’t properly orgasm without them.” Betsy philosophized.

“This is coming from the Queen of the Dildo?” I questioned.

Betsy laughed. “Trust me, I’ve tried them all and I have yet to find a dildo to match a great penis.”

“If I want to stay married to Scott I will have to become the Queen of the Dildo,” Jean complained as she sipped her drink.

“O.k. since I’m coming in at the end of all this, would someone please bring me up to date,” Rebecca demanded as she sat next to Jean on the couch.

“Well, for the past six months, Scott has failed to do his…” I paused as I searched for the proper term, “husbandly duty.”

Rebecca month fell open as she turned to Jean for confirmation. Jean only nodded her head and continued to sip her drink.

“Six months?” Rebecca asked in disbelief. “But that’s just…”

“Immoral?” Betsy finished. “Yes, we know.”

“But why?” Rebecca wanted to know.

Jean tossed down the rest of her drink. “Because he would rather masturbate to a magazine picture of Emma Frost.”

“But I don’t understand,” Rebecca said.

“Don’t worry. Neither do I.” Jean got up and went over to the bar.

“And who is the hell is Paige Guthrie?” Rebecca asked.

“Warren wants to have a three way,” I explained.

“And I take it Paige is the third party?” Rebecca questioned.

“She’s 20 with perky breasts and a tight ass, but I have years of experience. I can out fuck her without even trying.” Betsy bragged.

“And Logan?” Rebecca wanted to know.

“Well, let’s see it started this morning when he called,” I recounted.


Let me know if I should continue......