The Declaration of Independence was a very significant piece of paper in America's history. Of course, in the grand scheme of the world, it was nothing. It meant nothing outside the borders of the United States.
Yet, as the nation of Dinosia sat right off the western coast of California, the matter of the First Man's words on the declaration was personal for every American. And to understand that, one had to see closely how the First Man was seen in America.
In every religious text known to mankind, in every known and historic Hieroglyphics, in every prehistoric inscription, in thousands of cave walls across the world, the mention of the First Man was clear. Sometimes in words, at times in clear art showcasing Marty the giant T-Rex and the man atop the beast god's head.
Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, the Americas, he was everywhere. Throughout history, for as long as humanity could trace itself, the First Man had always been there. Before any religion. Before any angel. Before any sage. There was always the First Man.
To the people of America, he was like a moody father whose presence itself was calming, no matter how chaotic the man was. To the people, he was the guide of humanity, a savior, and a teacher.
Sure, it wasn't easy to make sense of the First Man's actions often. But he was the god, his actions were supposed to be an enigma to their feeble minds.
So imagine their surprise when the new President appeared on the radio and gave an official address to the nation, revealing that he had recently found the real Declaration of Independence, hidden right behind the one they all knew.
He went into the details, revealing that the First Man signed the original with some additions made to it. But the signatories didn't like the addition and made a second declaration.
After that, President Theodore went on about how his father had found it in his time, but was forced not to reveal it. Now, he was fulfilling his father's dream.
Theodore spoke about what the addition by the First Man was, and it was rather… degrading.
"It says 'First Man wouldn't sign because we were a bunch of spineless clowns who thought 'all men are created equal' was some punchline, and we still backhand slavery like it's a tradition. The First Man said we crawled out of apes, but we're too thick-skulled to grasp it' he signed that." Theodore's face warmed with shame, but he read on. "Later, a few notable men added their remarks beneath the First Man's words. George Washington wrote that the First Man was angered by the disregard for race and gender. In the First Man's words, all had come from apes. Benjamin Franklin, too, stood with the First Man's sentiment…"
It was a very long speech. Theodore made sure to leave nothing unexplained. No hidden meanings that could get misinterpreted.
When his address ended, it left more than a hundred million people confused. Of course, slavery had ended, but many minds hadn't changed yet. Segregation was still a thing. Women got voting rights just two or three years ago.
And as it was the proud, roaring 20s, an era of wealth and unrestrained spending. Half of the people didn't care, too busy with their own lives, spending their days in success and excess. Half felt touched by the First Man's actions.
It was a strange time as nobody knew what to do with this new information. Did it even matter? Does it change anything?
####
1932, Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean,
"Uh! Uh! Ooooooh! God!"
It was very cramped and hot. Marshall wasn't sweating, since his threshold was pretty high. But the woman sitting on his cock sure was soaking in sweat, her pale red nude back marred with his soft nibbles. His meaty arms hugged around her waist to fondle her sizable breasts, pinching her nipples.
"Fuck!" Marshall groaned, ready to burst. He'd been at it for so long already. And the cramped space was getting annoying. But the beauty on his lap, quite tall for a human of that era, was so much fun. Listening to her moans as she tried her best to fly her plane was exciting.
"Ooooh! N-oooooo-oh… Not the neck!"
She moaned, and Marshall just did that, kissing on the back of her neck, uncaring of the salty sheen on her body. His hands mauled her breasts, his hips did all the moving as she was too weak to do it by now after her third climax. And she didn't have space to jump. Only he moved his hips back and forth.
"Close!" He warned, and without much thought, leaned a little back, pulled her against his chest. He moved one hand up from her breast, grabbed her face, and moved it sideways to give her the most passionate kiss of her lifetime.
Their lips crashed together, a kiss that started as a gentle press but bloomed into something fierce.
Her hands flew to his wrists, nails digging in as panic flared. She was flying, the yoke trembling under her slack grip. But his tongue had slipped past her teeth, curling against hers in a slow, deliberate dance that melted every protest.
"Umph…" She moaned into him, her body surrendering as the plane's engines roared.
Deep inside, his cock pulsed like a living heartbeat, stretching her slick walls with every involuntary twitch. The sheer audacity of it, this impossible man, buried to the hilt while she piloted them across the Atlantic, sent electric thrills racing up her spine. Her pussy clenching greedily around him, milking the thrill and pleasure in equal measure.
She moaned again, her tongue now chasing his with reckless hunger. The cockpit spun away; there was only the wet heat of his hips, the throb of him owning her from the inside out.
Marshall drank in her face; sun-kissed, framed by that short, tousled blonde mop plastered to her forehead with sweat. She wasn't delicate; it was the beauty of wind-burned cheeks and storm-sharp eyes, the kind that laughed thrillingly at fear. He could've stared forever, but the clutch of her cunt dragged him back to the moment.
"Ummmphhh~" The moan spilled from her throat into his. Her hips ground down instinctively even as her hands fumbled for the yoke.
His hands slid up, fingers circling her throat with gentle pressure. He squeezed just enough to make her gasp, her back arching flush against his chest.
Her body seized, pussy spasming in violent waves, gushing slick heat around him as her fourth climax tore through her like turbulence. She flattened against him, every muscle locked, a silent scream caught behind clenched teeth while her cunt fluttered and sucked at his shaft.
Marshall groaned, low and guttural, hips snapping up one final time.
His cock erupted. Thick ropes of cream blasted against her cervix, flooding her depths with scalding heat. Every spurt painted her insides white, so much it overflowed, creamy rivulets seeping around his buried length to drip and pool beneath them, turning the cramped cockpit into a humid den of raw, musky sex.
Their mouths found each other again, tongues tangling as his spent cock softened and slipped free with a wet pop.
"Umh…" She moaned at the loss, feeling his load trickle out in warm pulses, coating her folds, marking the leather seat beneath them.
Woosh!
"Ah! Fuck!"
Sadly, she realized too late that she was flying a plane. That the stick she was meant to hold was a different one from the one probing her insides. When she tried to pull the plane back up, it vibrated violently. It was daytime, and they nosedived straight into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
"No, no, no!" She panicked. Both of them were butt-naked.
"Ugh, don't worry about it."
Marshall's words rang, followed by a loud boom. They crashed into the water. A small fire erupted, then was quashed by the water. Yet, none of them even touched the water. Marshall hovered in the air, the woman in a bridal carry.
"That… That wasn't supposed to happen. I'm headed for Ireland. I…"
Marshall shook her until he had her entire attention. He really found her daringness for taking risks hot. "Screw that plan. How about I toss your hot ass on Dinosia's shiny ship heading to the Moon? You'll be the first woman, hell, first human up there. Amelia Earhart, the gal who flew so damn hard she smacked right into the glowing rock, hah!"
"..."
Amelia Earhart stared at the living God's handsome face, his laugh honest, his beard masculine, and his words so shocking. There she was, trying to cross the Atlantic solo to set a record. Then came the living god flying out of nowhere, and before she knew it, she was on his lap, living in the moment because it was once in a lifetime's opportunity to sleep with a god, dammit.
"To the moon?"
"Damn straight. The Dinosian geeks have been breaking their spines over books for what, centuries? Now they're fixing to chuck a bloody ship at the Moon. This year, next week, whenever the stars fart right." Marshall mumbled, trying to remember. "Helvar's helped them with it, last I heard. Fuck knows what he did, he's out looking for Inhumans now. Anyway, you want in?"
"Fuck yeah!" Amelia cheered, forgetting she was hovering in the First Man's arms. But hell, she loved it. Not only did she get to fuck a god, but she was going to be the first human on the Moon.
"Congratulations on getting Dinosian citizenship then."
And she got the most coveted Dinosian citizenship. The land of the myth where all were equal. She fucking loved it.
Truly, the best sex of her life.
___________________
Check out Hela Facefucking, Marshall X Mystique & Marshall X Gamora NSFW ART, and advance chapters at [email protected]/MrPlotThickens or Subscribestar.adult/mrplotthickens
Advance chapters on [PATREON] are in long-form format. I have 4 long chapters of this story on Patreon. That's equal to 20-24 Webnovel chapters.
Old Free Art on Discord: https://discord.gg/W5FdB6WXaP