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Eight Legs For Three Ladies update
🕑 Added 2023-03-02 00:59:03 +0000 UTCPeter chalked it up to maybe an extremely pleasant dream. He tried to make no sound, for fear of waking himself up. Or them up. It might be Felicia’s dream, or even MJ’s. She looked to be enjoying herself.
How this would work, Peter didn’t know. His body had decided to send his blood to other places than his reasoning. He just barely had enough brainpower to commit everything he saw to memory. He had a feeling it would come in handy the next time the super shut the heating off on a cold night.
He watched in fascination. Enthralled all over again with how the two women looked naked, their undressed bodies contrasting with each other, highlighted by how they touched each other as if drawing his attention to all the little differences.
Mary Jane supermodel slender, but still joyously endowed, while Felicia was athletic, muscular, just enough to offset all her sweeping curves. Hips and breasts that looked like they’d been crafted with a care normally reserved for diamonds. Not that Mary Jane wasn’t well put together. She could’ve been chiseled from marble, worked out of porcelain…
Felicia had Mary Jane’s skirt off and lying on the floor beside them. MJ wore only her panties and unhooked bra, hanging from her shoulders and doing little to curtail the view of her naked breasts. Felicia wore even less—as though, even now, she sought to outdo Mary Jane and tempt Peter further than the redhead did. There was just her blouse, unbuttoned, and seeming too small to contain her bosom even with every button done up.
Peter saw both of Mary Jane’s breasts quivering with each move Felicia made on her. Felicia seemed to be trying to make them jiggle; enjoying the sight as much as Peter did. God, being so close to those heated little shimmies of MJ’s that she could feel them brushing against her, knowing that she was causing them. Peter envied Felicia. And he thought he’d have to step up his game if he wanted to keep Mary Jane after how she was enjoying herself here.
Felicia’s kisses branded Mary Jane’s upper thigh, leaving lipstick instead of welts. She worked her lips close and closer to Mary Jane’s lap, making the redhead wiggle her hips spiritedly, but was bent on savoring the feel of Mary Jane’s thighs. And the longer she relished them, the more Mary Jane wanted her mouth between her legs…
Felicia lay sprawled across the throw rug, her head in Mary Jane’s lap, twisted at the waist in her indolently feline way so that Mary Jane could reach down and cup a shapely breast. Peter could see her squeezing it, watch the marvel on her face as its plushness and yet how firm it was. Her thumb and forefinger plucked at the stiff little nipple.
Peter didn’t know what he wanted to see more: Mary Jane fondling both tits, and all the pleasure that would charge Felicia’s voluptuous body, or her letting go of them, allowing Peter an unimpeded look at those glorious swells of the Cat’s. Swaying freely with her twisting body while her kisses coursed over Mary Jane’s hips… the playfully tousled hair about her forehead brushing daringly across Mary Jane’s lower belly… the nostrils flaring, drinking in the scent of Mary Jane untouched, straight from her sopping wet cunt.
Felicia was working her way up to tasting Mary Jane’s pussy… the very same pussy that Peter had mouthed, that he’d fucked. He wondered if Felicia felt about the flavor as he did. He wondered if Felicia would taste him on her. Usually, that thought would raise a note of panic—would Felicia recognize that this woman had a hint of the same tang that the Black Cat had swallowed so many times? But even Peter couldn’t be neurotic about this.
His cock swelled even further, laboring valiantly to tear its way out of his pants and get at the enticing display before him. The workout he’d given it with Gwen might as well have not happened. Peter could’ve gone untouched for the past fifteen years with how hard he was, how he throbbed.
As he watched the two women play, explore, enjoy for themselves the tantalizing curves that he knew well were exquisite to feel, his erection bulged even more profoundly. They always loved how big and hard he got for them. If he gave it to them now, either of them, with his hard-on like a reactor core at full power, they’d come just from having him inside them.
So why not offer your services? he asked himself. Would Mary Jane—kinky enough to get it on with Felicia Hardy, who he knew she barely knew—mind his addition to the proceedings? And he also knew that as much as Felicia got her kicks with one lover, she enjoyed herself that much more with two.
It’d take some finagling to convince her that mild-mannered Peter Parker had as much to offer her as the amazing Spider-Man, but say he started off with Mary Jane, who would never turn him down? One look at what he did to her would have Felicia all over him, even without his spider-suit. Shit, it’d be so damn good to kiss her, to suck her, to rub himself all over her without gloves, mask, costume in the way…
He started to move in on them, advancing on them like a predator on vulnerable prey, but then Peter checked himself. Maybe he should wait until they sated themselves, at least a little. Knowing Felicia, after she’d gotten a good taste of Mary Jane, she’d be eager for something else. And MJ would most likely be the same way. After they’d climaxed, then he’d approach them—finding one or both eager to tag him in and let someone else feed their insatiable appetites.
“God, Felicia, you really know what you’re doing,” Mary Jane said. “I’m going to be nothing but goosebumps at the rate you’re putting them on me. But I don’t want goosebumps. I want your tongue. Push it in me, lick my cunt inside and out! I know you’ll like how I taste… Peter always does…”
Damn right, Peter thought. And if Felicia made Mary Jane beg much more, he’d be over there giving MJ what Felicia wouldn’t. He’d lick every one of those goosebumps, including those two big bumps she wore below her shoulders.
But Felicia beat him to it. She couldn’t keep Mary Jane waiting like Peter was, holding himself back—not when she’d already gotten a taste, her appetite whetted, MJ asking for more by name…
“Mary Jannnneeee,” Felicia sung, making it sound like some erotic little ditsy while she brought her mouth to MJ’s loins.
Mary Jane stiffened, her breath caught, her hands jerking rictus-like to Felicia’s head. Felicia’s tongue had shot inside her like a lightning bolt striking a weathervane and MJ took it just as cataclysmically. She moaned in rapture, eyes closed, head drifting back as her ecstasy stilled into a steadily growing hunger, a hunger that was being sated with swipes of Felicia’s rapturous tongue…
Watching Felicia’s milky white skin glow in the dim light, fondly rubbing against the pale, freckled nakedness that Mary Jane had to offer made Peter long to touch the both of them—even just to touch himself and resolve his pounding lust. But he held himself in check. He wouldn’t waste this roaring desire on his own hand; that would be a disservice to it. He’d let it come to a boil and then he’d give them every last drop of it.
As her orgasm faded—that first lovely swell of satisfaction, knowing that the coming coitus was bound to fulfill her—Mary Jane’s hands relaxed. She moved them down Felicia’s shiny white hair, roving worshipfully over the line of her collarbone and grabbed those firm, plump breasts in each hand.
Felicia had twisted around one last time, on her back now, with Mary Jane moving onto her knees so that she was straddling Felicia’s face, giving the Cat access to her womanhood, while she could reach down and squeeze Felicia’s breasts so hard that Peter didn’t know how the thief wasn’t in pain.
But if she was, there was no way to tell. Her mouth was locked so tightly to Mary Jane’s sex that she could say nothing—she was willingly gagged by the cunnilingus she performed.
Mary Jane couldn’t bind herself to Felicia so tightly. Roiling with the pleasurable spasms of Felicia’s efforts, she fell over. Felicia followed her, hands on her waist, face in her groin. Mary Jane stretched out her long legs, all the tautly sculpted muscle stirring as she speared out her toes like a ballerina en pointe, then she wrapped her thighs around Felicia’s swanlike neck.
Slowly the redhead pumped her hips, expressing her closeness to release with the needful way she brought her sex to Felicia’s lips. Her tight little ass, its compact muscle beautifully crowning her slender legs, pumped up and down on the felt carpet. Whinnying sounds of pleasure escaped her throat, barely making their way to Peter’s ears, but they quickly grew until Mary Jane was keening with unbearable satiation. A sound Peter worried would wake the neighbors.
Felicia gave her a little respite from her oncoming release, taking her mouth off Mary Jane’s slit just long enough to mewl words, her encouragement breaking into Mary Jane’s rasping. “Come on, Red. Take it, you can take it. Spread your legs and enjoy it, baby, I know I’m making it so good for you… show me how much you appreciate it. Come for me. Wanna taste how you come for me…”
Then she darted her tongue back inside Mary Jane’s tender sex, turning Mary Jane’s gulping breaths into cries of pleasure once more. Mary Jane’s motions became more and more agitated, her hips flurrying as if she were participating in some wild dance reaching its crescendo.
All of a sudden she threw her legs apart in a wide vee and let out a howl. It dwindled to nothing, carrying all of Mary Jane’s energy with it when she sank down into the carpet like its fluff could hide her. She lay flat, with no sound other than her catching her breath and Felicia humming in satiation.
The thief had enjoyed the spectacle as much as Peter. And she knew she was its author.
Peter wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to stay away after his self-imposed deadline. The urge to rush in and show Mary Jane what ecstasy really was should’ve been irresistible. But he kept waiting, entranced by the aesthetics of their beautiful peacefulness.
Mary Jane lying in her contentment so serenely that she could’ve been floating on air. And Felicia, splayed in her lap, platinum blonde hair describing little curls and spirals all across Mary Jane’s midsection. Her chin in MJ’s belly button as she looked up and drank in the redhead’s afterglow.
Peter hated the thought of disturbing them. His lust kept at a steady ebb, deliciously edging towards orgasm but not breaking the suspension of his arousal. He kept watching, committing to memory every last detail—finding new facets of their sensuality all the time. Their only movement was a stirring caress of their fingers… Mary Jane reaching down to slink her fingertips along Felicia’s back and shoulders… Felicia reaching up to feel out the heave of Mary Jane’s breasts and the lusciousness of her well-kissed mouth.
They whispered to each other, but Peter was too far to make out what they were saying. He half-doubted that they could hear one another. They said things as an exhale, breathing out the excess of sensation they’d been overwhelmed with.
He wished he could’ve snapped a photograph, solidifying for all eternity the loveliness of their naked bodies together with only the moon daring to touch them. Christ, if it were a painting, it would’ve been a masterpiece. But there was no capturing this beauty, no replicating it, posing it, sharing it.
Because part of it was the way Peter saw them; the love he held for these two women. It was wrapped up in sexuality, yes, but he was genuinely happy to see them enjoying such ecstasy. It was the kind of delight he hoped to give them when he had one of them to himself. He liked pleasuring both ends of this love triangle—so why shouldn’t he be glad to see them gratified with each other?
But even if they were his worst enemies, even if he wished them nothing but discontent, there was no denying the picture they made now that they’d merged into one lewd indulgence. It spoke as loudly as the pull he felt for them. If he weren’t in love already, Peter might fall in love, just seeing them like this.
The way their luscious curves flowed together and melted into the same artful satiation… a toned thigh there, a swollen breast here, now an expanse of skin riddled with the soreness of rough kisses… It was pure seduction, and letting it hit him, Peter realized why they’d come. They’d meant to tempt him.
This performance might not’ve been meant for him—he wasn’t egotistical enough to imagine they’d been thinking of anyone but each other in that onslaught of sexuality—but the gasps of pleasure were meant for his ears, all that decadent nakedness was meant to be seen by him.
Only after Felicia rolled off of Mary Jane’s legs, stretching to work out whatever kinks her positioning had knotted her body with, did Peter penetrate their idyll.
“MJ, you know you’re welcome to come here for that anytime, but I would’ve thought you’d do it with me, not a third party… even if she’s got enough curves to be a third and fourth party…”
