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Skintight 4
🕑 Added 2022-10-29 19:59:01 +0000 UTCPeter rolled Mary Jane to the side and there was Felicia, sinful indulgence in human form, pure arousal outlined in black leather. The flesh inside quivering, burgeoning inside straining confines, yearning to be out in the open air and exposed to his lustful gaze. Peter felt enthralled, enslaved. He wasn’t in control and he wasn’t out of control—he was only giving in to the need he felt for Felicia. Under her control.
And it was a pure need, a singular need, a need surviving to feel the void inside him now that his desire for MJ had been sated.
***
MJ envied her competition; if Felicia still counted as that, when clearly there was nothing they were competing over. It would be like fighting over who got wet in a rainstorm. Peter would take care of both of them and somehow, the more they wanted it, the more there was. She’d come so fucking hard with Felicia underneath her…
***
He drew Felicia’s zipper down and freed her awe-inspiring curves from the second skin that never could’ve contained them, that only blunted their overwhelming sensuousness. There she was, revealed to him, her ferocious passion written on every inch of her bare skin, blazing from her wet cunt like an advertisement. It was a testament to her that he could even take his eyes off Mary Jane, but Felicia was every bit Mary Jane’s equal and he had already satisfied the redhead.
Felicia needed him now.
He fell on her and gave her what she needed.
“Fuck me, Spider. No, use me. I wanna know I’m your personal cock-holster.”
Felicia squirmed under his pistoning body, her ass writhing as Peter gave everything he had to her sucking cunt. Over and over again.
***
Abandoned beside them like a toy that had been played with and then been discarded, Mary Jane could not even summon up any discomfort at being neglected. All her attention was on her rutting husband and the gorgeous nymph he’d gotten on top of.
It really was amazing, Mary Jane thought. She’d barely been able to take Peter; his cock feeling as thick and as long as a man’s arm. And yet, she wanted more. And Felicia wanted more. Even Peter, having more than satiated himself in Mary Jane’s ass, wanted more. It was like they couldn’t get enough, any of them. But they could feed on each other’s lust—share it, maybe.
As crazy as it sounded, Mary Jane loved seeing her husband on top of another woman and knowing soon she herself would be on the receiving end of that sensual punishment.
“Yeah,” Peter grunted, taking Felicia, demanding from her with each thrust and getting all he wanted from her. “Yeah, yeah!”
The sculpted muscles along his spine tensed, undulating like downed power lines spitting sparks as he swung his pelvis, entering Felicia’s depths again and again and again. His buttocks dimpled rhythmically. The obscene suck and squelch of his manhood at work inside Felicia’s slit made Mary Jane imagine she was going down on him, almost—her little cunt as talented with prick as those cocksucker lips she had.
Peter’s eyes rolled drunkenly. He pounded into Felicia like a dog in heat. And though MJ couldn’t say she’d enjoyed Felicia’s body quite that way, her pussy was clearly tight enough to give him plenty of reason to work his stiff prick inside it.
Hot breaths burned Mary Jane’s lips on the way out, warmed her breasts when she pulled them in. She felt like she was sizzling: imagining and anticipating and somehow happy for Felicia, grateful to her for giving Peter such a good fuck. And loving Peter for satisfying that cock-loving whore like she deserved.
Give it to her, she thought. Ram that dirty little cunt.
Oh yes, Mary Jane was delighting in watching her virile husband use that fucking nympho’s cunt. Pleasing his big cock with Felicia instead of just Mary Jane; like they were both just cock-sheaths for Peter to take care of his urges. And Felicia’s urges. And even Mary Jane’s urges.
She didn’t know why, but it pleased her to see his muscles working in glorious symphony, driving into Felicia like a jackhammer. It was absurd overkill, breaking down any possible resistance when Black Cat was acting like she’d never even heard of the idea of reluctance. But who cared? Mary Jane could feel the enjoyment radiating off Peter like she was fucking Felicia instead of him.
Felicia writhed underneath his thrusts, legs entwined with Peter’s so that her booted toes stroked his calves, while her eyes rolled back to white slits. She threw her head from side to side in an orgy of platinum blonde hair and the white fur trim of her collar. Her cunt spasmed and she gasped in ecstasy; Peter’s teeth worried at her neck vampirically.
Mary Jane couldn’t believe it, even having been on the receiving end of that attention so recently. Felicia was orgasming already—well on her way to coming again. Mary Jane almost admired how insatiable she was, obsessed with sexual delight, glorying in climax after climax after climax.
And Felicia showed no sign of slowing down. Mary Jane wondered, with both envy and admiration, whether Felicia would manage to have more orgasms than her—Peter’s wife—by the time he finished.
Lucky girl. Lucky Peter. Lucky her.
Peter slaved away, fucking into Felicia like his cock was metal, like he could use it all day. Mary Jane wondered if he’d already given the Black Cat a white load—no, no, it would’ve been very obvious if that had happened. Both Felicia and Peter would’ve made it absolutely clear.
Felicia’s arms fell limply to her sides, no energy left, or maybe she simply couldn’t think of a greater pleasure than letting Peter pump away at her like she was no more than a fleshlight to him.
Peter held himself over her with his arms, his hips hammering down into it, and it looked like he could barely keep himself in place with the pleasure suffusing his body. He trembled, his muscles standing out like rivets about to burst, his costume dark with sweat. Perspiration soaked his hair and dropped it down before his eyes. He panted, all his concentration and strength focused on Felicia’s juicy cunt, on giving it the fuck it deserved.
“UNH! UNH! UNH!” he groaned, pumping faster and faster, driving into Felicia so hard she was driven upward, but his outstretched arms were over her shoulders, keeping her from getting away from him.
Felicia writhed underneath all the fucking, her toes flexing crazily, her eyes rolling and shutting and opening wide. Her fingers dug and scratched at the rooftop. Her heels kicked at the pockmarked material.
Distantly, she recalled how Peter had fucked Mary Jane right on top of her, sodomized the redhead. How she had envied MJ—and now she was getting the same treatment. She was Peter’s bitch and Mary Jane was the witness, the watcher who left no doubt of her place. Underneath him. Serving him. Belonging to him.
She felt like a sister to MJ now. They would keep each other’s secret—the knowledge of what they really were. No matter their careers or ambitions or dreams, when they got into Peter’s bed, they were his.
Peter’s hips back to blur. His cock raged like a motor with nitro pumping into it. He threw his head back, his eyes showing only their white, his teeth clenched. His thin body trembled, then began to jerk. He exhaled loudly as he powered his load into Felicia’s receptive body.
The Black Cat moaned, arching her loins up to take her final reward for her blissful slavery. She grabbed her stiff nipples and twisted them, trembling madly under Peter as he groaned and spurted. Her eyes crossed and she couldn’t stop herself from shuddering.
“I’m coming!” she whimpered. “Mmmm! Do it, Spider! Do it! I wanna be just like wifey! Wanna be your cum dumpster!”
Peter hilted his shooting cock inside her and she quaked around it like it was a livewire, electrifying her. Peter held himself bridged over her, his back arched, his groin grinding between her legs, until he’d given all he had to give and Felicia had taken all that she could take. Her own crotch a mess of creamy overabundance.
Then he collapsed on the cat burglar with a satisfied exhale. Felicia’s arms and legs moved like racehorses released from the starting gate. Wrapping around him. Basking in the feel of him and purring like a kitten with enjoyment.
Black Cat, Spider-Man, Mary Jane thought, watching. No wonder they call themselves that—they’re animals. And I… I need to come.
She stood, her legs wobbly under her but her body on fire, demanding action. The redhead wiggled out of her catsuit. It was an enticing sight as she jiggled and bounced divesting herself of the skintight leather, but Peter and Felicia only had eyes for each other. MJ didn’t blame them. She’d only been able to ignore the insistent pulsing in her own cunt by keeping her eye on them.
And Peter had by no means lost his interest in Felicia simply because he’d achieved orgasm. He still had her pinned to the ground, grinding his chest against that famous bosom. Her marshmallowy breasts pillowed against his rock-hard pecs, bulging out to the sides as he kissed her. His hips twitching. Pumping his cock inside her and dislodging the dregs of his ejaculation. Which just meant more milky white cream spilled from Felicia’s stuffed cunt.
Felicia, her eyes glowing with adoration, held on tight to her lover—as tightly as she clung to the orgiastic satisfaction he had brought her. She kissed him back, licking the sweat from his brow, his nose, his chin. Scratching at his back with her fingernails and playing footsie with his outstretched legs.
She was flushed with the afterglow, with love, and somehow Mary Jane could only feel happy for her. She didn’t know how they would deal with the emotions that’d swirled up out of fading embers—but she would never gainsay a woman feeling like that.
Mary Jane straddled the entwined couple, legs akimbo to either side of them, naked as a barbarian while she touched herself. It didn’t take long for the miasma of free-floating sexuality to find as much expression in her as it had in the two who’d actually fucked. She came, letting out a girlish howl as her cream spilled from her sex and onto the lovers. Maybe she was marking her husband, but she was marking Felicia too.
Thanking her for sharing Peter so wonderfully.
