Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 02

Earth-617

Felicia was feeling a little better after her bath, but her funk hung over her. And here Mary Jane had thought her body had an understanding with alcohol. It seemed like Felicia's hangover included the curse of drinking an Indian burial ground or something.

Still, Mary Jane's presence prodded Felicia into moaning, groaning functionality. She tried hopping into a pair of black leather pants, but they resisted her. It was a little like watching a video of an astronaut bumbling around on the Moon.

"Have my pants gotten tighter?" Felicia asked.

"I don't think that's possible."

"Seriously, did you shrink them in the wash or something?"

"I've done a superhero's laundry through symbiote invasions, apocalypses, and clones. I know when something is dry-clean only."

The buzzer buzzed. Mary Jane wished Felicia a hearty farewell: "Please put on some pants if we're going to have company."

Felicia's apartment didn't just have an intercom. You pressed the button, you got a live feed of whatever it was at the door. Mary Jane tried it. The face was instantly familiar. A blast from the past.

Peter? She didn't say it. She didn't like to hope that hard, and she didn't want to get Felicia excited. Already she knew that it wasn't. She could feel that it wasn't. He looked like Peter—could've been Peter's brother—but his face was different, it had been lived in differently. The soul underneath burned at a different temperature. The shaved head, the scruffy jaw, those could've been Peter's, but the look in his eyes: no, never.

"Mrs. Parker? Or, uh, Watson?" His voice was gruff, used to shouting, threats. It scaled down to conversation unevenly. "I'm Kaine. We've met before?"

"Yeah, you almost got my husband sent to prison for murder once."

"To be fair, when isn't he being framed for something?"

Felicia poked her head out of the bedroom. "Is it a clone?"

"Yup."

"I think I dated one of them. Don't tell him I'm here."

"Is that Felicia?" Kaine asked.

"M-aybe?"

"It's her apartment." Kaine held up a letter to the camera. The address was done in Peter's neat handwriting. "Look, Peter wrote to me. I owed him a favor—I owe him a lot of favors—and basically, if he ever went down, I was supposed to keep an eye on you two."

"Peter's not dead," Mary Jane insisted, her sudden vehemence like a cat extending its claws.

"He never is," Kaine agreed. "Can I come up? I'm kinda over the whole lonely hero thing. I'd rather bodyguard you where there's air conditioning."

Mary Jane looked to Felicia, blanking out the transmission for the moment.

Felicia sighed and, toying with her pants' fight against her water weight, she called up her inner Facebook. "Kaine Parker... Scarlet Spider... been in Houston, doing the superhero thing, but he packed it in a while back. Not that great at it. I can sympathize. Not quite as crazy as he used to be. And yes, I did think of swiping left on him, but that's probably start some inner competition to collect the whole set. If you know what I mean. Though I did fool around with that black Spider-Man."

"Seriously?" Mary Jane asked. "He was, like, a kid."

"Not anymore."

***

Earth-69

"How do you think your wife would feel, knowing you used her as an excuse not to have sex?"

Peter glazed his eyes up over Janice's long, slender legs. The water had turned her pants into little more than paint. She wasn't wearing garters either. She had nothing to hide. Her skin, even filtered through a layer of wetly clinging fabric, was flawless. Almost too silken, too smooth.

She scissored her legs, causing the waistband of her costume to ride down her hips, expose a swath of belly and loins, the warm shadows of lines beginning to curve, deepen.

"And what would she think?" Janice asked, rubbing her thighs together with obvious pleasure, making her wet costume tangle and bunch. "Of my legs?"

He shouldn't have told her he was a married man. It'd been an automatic response, a habit he'd fallen back into now that he and Mary Jane and Felicia were together again. He loved being married, wanted to tell everyone. Even dubiously moral villainesses. Who, technically, he was allowed to 'date.' Encouraged, in fact.

Something else Felicia had told him. Getting love all tangled up with intimacy and sex. And friendship. Maybe it would clear his head a little to take their advice—Mary Jane had backed her up on this—and just have some meaningless sex in Dimension Slut. Then he could figure out what to do about this threesome problem.

Walloping websnappers, had he just referred to it as his 'threesome problem'? The Parker luck...

"She'd think they were beautiful," Peter said at last. "Anyone would."

"That's all?" Janice asked, flinging her knees impressively wide, wide enough that on either side of her crotch, the tendons on the insides of her thighs stood out from the strain.

Peter swallowed hard. No, it wasn't all. They were magical. There was something about the shape of her calves, her thighs, the texture of her skin. Like Felicia's breasts, like Mary Jane's smile, it did something to him, a new taste all its own filling his waiting body. This was a different lust than he felt for any of them, but no less strong, no less valid. Taste—yes, that was the word for it. Felicia, Mary Jane, they were air, they were water, he needed them to live. Maybe this was just a nice dumpling, a foot-long hot dog just when he was in the mood, but satisfying this momentary craving wouldn't diminish how much he appreciated them.

His cock pitched. The throb in his balls became awesome. He let it.

"Look at my legs," Janice cooed, stroking her toes hypnotically back and forth, like a ballerina beginning an achingly slow dance. "Look how long they are. And so smooth. How would you like to have them wrapped around you? Real tight around your back, so you could hardly breathe. With your cock going in and out of my pussy."

He groaned. With a few words, a minimum of movement, with her very confinement, she had brought him to full, aching erection. He played his hand over the join between the top of his costume and the bottom.

"No, Spider!" she said, grinning fiercely at him. "If you want these legs, you have to earn 'em."

She kicked off her shoes. Her breath left her—he could see her chest rising and falling faster within the confines of the webbing. "I want you to love my legs. I want you to kiss my feet and my ankles and my calves. Don't miss anything. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Peter nodded, swallowing to clear his drooling mouth. His cock had stiffened into a steely hardness, a lurid weapon jammed down the inside of his right pant leg. He approached her, amazed at how this quasi-submission, this openly voiced desire on her part so thoroughly took the worry of assault out of the equation. He felt like he'd used to when wrestling with Felicia—like she was willing to rub against him almost as a consolation prize for being caught. This was what they both wanted, so... why not?

He knelt before her. She put her bare, small feet on his shoulders. He felt both embarrassment and excited as he raised his mask over his nose, uncovering a Zorro-ish swath of skin before turning his head to nuzzle the side of her foot. Her skin was surprisingly soft, warm, not smelly or sweaty. He supposed she hadn't been walking around much with her flight suit operational. He kissed over her ankles, her instep, working his lips to her toes.

"Ooooh!" Janice moaned, rocking herself against the restraining confines of the webbing as his hot mouth seared over the underside of her foot.

Her toes were small and chubby, cute in a petite way, something unexplainably punk rock in the artful polish that splotched their nails. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue, swiping it from the sole of her foot to the ball to the underside of her toes.

"Ohhhhh," Janice cried, her face flushing with a rush of blood to the head. "Yes! Lick them. Lick 'em, Spider!"

Peter did just that. Feeling wickedly subordinate to this woman, yet decidedly domineering for having subdued her, he slathered his moist tongue between her toes, feeling her spread them apart as she squirmed in delight.

"Suck them!" she begged. "Suck!"

He let her thrust her toes into her mouth. She tried to force them in and out of his pursed lips, but he sucked on them too hard, bit down a little, holding them inside his furnace of a mouth as he sucked so hard, he could see the goosebumps rise on her legs.

"Oh! Ohhh!" Janice wailed, grinding her hips back against the wall, the cotton-soft vibration of even that on her pussy better than nothing. She couldn't get off without him. Peter was ridiculously turned on by that.

He pushed the legs of her garment up her calves, kissing and licking her ankles. Her legs were as long and as smooth as they had appeared through the soaked clothes. Exposing them seemed to make her especially sensitive. When he reached her calves, he could've sworn she had an orgasm—letting out a piercing shriek, throwing her head back, thrusting her pussy out with her knees spread as far apart as they'd go.

The smell of her arousal hit him, making him want to just close his eyes and savor her. He felt an odd un-guilt over a sudden desire to erase the scents of MJ and Felicia from his mind, replace it with this, so when he got home they would be as new and as special as they should be.

He lapped hungrily behind her knee—Mary Jane had always loved that. Janice's breathing was heavy, hoarse now, while his cock felt raw and wet. He wanted to fuck her, fuck her without reservation, but he didn't want to shatter the delicate give-and-take of their mutual dependence. He was going to finish the job, lick every square inch of her legs, and, teasingly, he did that as quickly as he possibly could, sliding his tongue up to the silky smooth flesh of her inner thighs. But there, he lingered to paint the sensitive skin with his warm saliva, knowing it would drive her mad.

"Oooooh, yes!" she gasped, her hips starting to tick with a will of their own, to attack the wall behind her with her well-padded ass. It was like she was spanking herself. "Oh fuck, I'm yours, baby, I'm yours, not just my legs, all of me, my cunt—!"

"Fuck your cunt." Peter jerked his waistband down, his cock shooting out, aiming itself at Janice like a missile. "I'm not done with these."

He grabbed her feet, wrapped them around his cock, started thrusting between her soles. It was wild, it was crazy, but it felt right to be doing something so different, to be treating her not like other women, not like someone to love, but as some exotic dish that had to be eaten in its own special, specific way.

Janice wiggled her toes as his big cock slid between her feet, greasing her toes with precum, swelling, turning from stone to steel. Peter gasped and dropped her feet away; his cock jerked and flared, spurting a few drops of watery cum that landed on Janice's thighs.

"You almost got me off," Peter groaned. "I was so close I almost lost it, you fucking turn-on..."

"Then do it in my cunt! Come in my cunt!"

Peter shook his head stubbornly. "Webbing's in the way."

"Then rip it, rip it, rip it!"

"I have a better idea."

He put his hands on either side of Janice's head, as if about to kiss her. Then, like his flat palms were handholds, he pulled himself up so now his feet were on either side of Janice's legs. Then he simply climbed the wall until his cock was level with Janice's face.

She realized all at once how enormous it was, rock-hard and throbbing. Blue veins stood out along its crimson length, precum smeared on the bloated flesh of the huge, bulbous cockhead. The game was over. Janice suddenly lost all control of herself. She had to feel a big prick ramming into her pussy, and she had to satisfy her sudden craving for a long, appetizing suck. If one followed the other, so much the better.

Janice moaned as she lapped around all the spade-shaped head, pressing her tongue into the hole, barely aware or caring that if he came he might not be able to satisfy her lusts, just wanting his cum, needing it. She opened her mouth wide and dropped her head into his crotch, taking the first several inches of his prick with a gurgle.

Her lips clamped in a tightly pursed circle around the throbbing shaft and she inhaled deeply, savoring the taste and the smell of what she had twitching in her mouth. Never before had she been so hungry to give a blowjob. She couldn't wait to find out how much jism he had for her, just raring to geyser out of the dick he'd so generously loaned out to her mouth.

She only wished the others were there. Janice flushed shamelessly as she realized how nice it would be for them to see how big a cock she could take in her throat.

"Oh, fuck, Lincoln!" Peter moaned, clutching at her beaded hair, making it jangle like a wind chime as he clung tightly to it. "That's so good! Christ, suck my cock for me!"

Janice nearly choked herself as she shoved her own head down, wanting to devour as much of Spider-Man's straining cock as she could. Her cheeks puckered as her lips took in the middle of his shaft. She shut her eyes, concentrating lasciviously on the slurping, smacking sounds of her own fellatio as she sucked him very wetly and very hard.

"Harder, Beetle!" Peter grimaced with the fury of her sucking. He didn't know if she was as good a supervillain as the original Beetle, but she just had to give better head. "That's just what I need—a nice, deep throat. Take it all, Beetle! Make it cum. Make me cum!"

She sucked him violently, swirling her tongue around the crown, gulping down the precum as it poured out of him. Her legs stretched, trying to stir some sympathetic magic in her neglected pussy, while her arms strained against the webbing, wanting nothing more than to grab hold of the portion of cock that was uselessly outside her mouth. Or to touch herself, to at least be fucked by one or two or four of her own fingers just as her mouth was being so crudely used.

Cum, Spider! She thought, sucking avidly. Shoot it all down my throat!

With that weird sixth sense he seemed to have, Spider-Man obeyed her unspoken desire. His cock grew to total stiffness in her mouth, stretching her lips to the bursting point. All Janice knew was the impending explosion of seed. She sucked as hard as she could.

"There, there!" Peter bucked his hips forward, grunting with pleasure. "I'm coming, Beetle! Ahhhh..."

A long stream of salty cum exploded from him, shooting across Janice's tongue and splattering in back of her throat. It was delicious, the musk of sex. She slurped, throat muscles working and mouth sucking feverishly, nursing every drop of jism from his amenable cock. He kept spraying, gasping as all the tension in his body took liquid form and battered its way into Janice's belly. It pushed obscenely down her throat and Janice hungrily swallowed every drop, pumping his shooting cock frantically with her lips. Peter actually had to push her away from his cock; Janice clung on even after it had finished spurting, hoping to milk out one more delicious drop.

"Christ, Janice! I don't know how much more of that I can fucking take!"

"You'll have to take a little bit more," Anya said, setting down the stolen property she had recovered some time ago, before returning to the roof. Enjoying the show. "Or make me take it."

It'd really turned her on, watching them game each other, each seducing their lover in their own way. She'd almost masturbated to it. But why should they have all the fun? Why should she have to masturbate when Spider-Man had such a sleek, hard body—such a big, thrilling cock? With an effort, she'd restrained herself, no matter how hot the urge became.

And he was still hard.

"I got so wet watching you fuck another woman with that big cock of yours. My knees are still shaking, thinking about it. Imagine how wet I'll get when you fuck me. How wet I am. No more hands, no more feet, no more fucking tongue. Time for the main event. Cojamos."

"Uh, Araña?"

Anya foresaw his concern—apparently his porn star alter ego wasn't too different from him. Especially not now that he'd started having threesomes. "We'll let her watch. That'll be enough for her." She smiled viciously. "And by the time we're done, the webbing will have dissolved. Then we both can fuck her. If your universe is anything like 616, then you've got a lot of pent-up... issues to work out."

She ran her hand over her body. Down to her hip.

"C'mon! ¡Dale cabron! It's not like there's any more room in her for all your cum. Or are you holding out to see if I'll let you fuck me in the ass?" Her smile widened. "Because you won't have to wait long."

Back home, he'd never be able to face the other Araña again.

Small price to pay.

***

Earth-617

She could feel it through their link. He was doing it again. The fun thing. La Chingada. Reading about it, seeing pictures of it was one thing—but being connected to it, to the real thing? It sparked a humming urgency in her that was almost unbearable.

The woman Kaine was fucking, Sasha—she'd gone so crazy when he'd eaten her. Could it possibly feel that good? It tasted good; at least, to Kaine it did. Sometimes, when she touched herself, her fingers... there'd been a honeyed sweetness after, fragrant and secretly exciting, the taste of forbidden fruit. Furtive, deliciously guilty.

A faint, relentless throbbing had begun in her. Not in her body, but in her sex. Her virginity. She clenched her fists by her sides as her arousal mounted. She refused to masturbate. Not when Kaine was able to do such naughty things with others. Why shouldn't she?

Aracely decided she would do anything to satisfy her curiosity. Anything.