The Aurora Invicta's private dining room gleamed with luxury, crystal chandeliers casting
rainbow prisms across the mahogany table. Peter and Emma finished their lunch, feeding each
other bites of chocolate soufflé between loving kisses. Emma's blue-painted fingertips traced
intricate patterns on Peter's arm while he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh
softly, the sound like wind chimes in the opulent space.
"You know," Emma said, taking a sip of her sparkling water, her diamond engagement ring
catching the light, "I do believe your afternoon entertainment should be arriving any moment
now." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, one hand resting protectively over her swollen belly
where their twins occasionally kicked against her palm.
Peter's expression clouded slightly, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. "Em, I know we talked
about this but... I'm still not sure about Felicia. Our history is... complicated." He set the fork
down, memories of rooftop chases, passionate encounters, and bitter betrayals flashing through
his mind. "She only ever wanted Spider-Man, not Peter Parker."
"The most delicious things often are, darling," Emma purred, her hand sliding up his thigh under
the table, fingertips dancing dangerously close to his growing arousal. "Besides, I think you'll
find the conversation enlightening, at the very least." Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper.
"And remember, I'll be watching everything. If she tries anything underhanded, I'll freeze her
mind faster than she can say 'bad luck.'"
As if orchestrated by fate itself, the door swung open with a whisper of well-oiled hinges, and
Felicia Hardy sauntered in with that unmistakable predatory grace that had always set Peter's
pulse racing. Her platinum blonde hair—so fine it appeared almost white under the chandelier's
glow—tumbled over her shoulders in luxurious waves that seemed to catch and release light
with each subtle movement of her head. Those piercing green eyes, rimmed with smoky
shadow, glittered with a dangerous playfulness that transported him instantly back to midnight
chases across Manhattan's skyline.
The dress she'd chosen was nothing short of weaponized seduction—a liquid silver second skin
that hugged every hard-earned curve of her lithe, athletic frame with shameless precision. The
neckline plummeted in a deep V nearly to her navel, framing the generous, firm swells of her
large breasts which rose and fell with each measured breath. With each deliberate step toward
their table, a thigh-high slit parted to reveal a hypnotic glimpse of one powerfully toned leg,
muscle definition shifting subtly beneath flawless skin that practically begged to be touched.
Around her throat, a simple black velvet choker provided the only contrast to all that silver, the
small cat-shaped charm nestled in the hollow of her collarbone catching the light when she
tilted her head to study him. The understated accessory somehow managed to draw his eye
more effectively than all her exposed skin—a reminder of nights spent pursuing the Black Cat
across rooftops, her laughter carried away on the wind as she stayed just beyond his grasp.
"Well, well," Felicia drawled, her black painted lips curving into a smile as she took in the scene.
"Isn't this domestic? The billionaire power couple enjoying a romantic lunch." Her gaze lingered
on Peter, sweeping over him appreciatively before shifting to Emma's pregnant form. Something
unreadable flickered in her eyes—perhaps envy, perhaps regret.
Emma rose gracefully, smoothing her white dress over her large baby bump. "Ms. Hardy, right
on time." She leaned down to kiss Peter deeply, making sure Felicia saw the possessive way her
tongue slipped into his mouth, her hand cupping his face. When she pulled away, a faint blue
lipstick mark remained on his lips like a brand. "I'll leave you two to... catch up." She winked at
Peter before turning to Felicia, her smile suddenly sharp as ice. "Do try not to break anything
valuable, dear. Some of these antiques are irreplaceable." The warning in her voice made it
clear she wasn't talking about the furniture.
With that, Emma glided from the room, the door clicking shut behind her with a note of finality.
The tension in the air thickened as Felicia's gaze followed Emma's departure before returning to
Peter, her smile turning from practiced to something more genuine, if tinged with nervousness.
"She's certainly... territorial," Felicia remarked, stepping further into the room, her heels clicking
softly on the polished floor. "Though I suppose I can't blame her." She gestured to the chair
Emma had vacated. "Mind if I join you, Spider?"
Peter nodded silently, watching as she slid into the seat with feline grace. Her confident facade
flickered briefly as she reached for Emma's untouched glass of wine, taking a slow, deliberate sip
before speaking.
"You look good, Spider. Success suits you." Her eyes traveled over his tailored suit, lingering on
how the fabric stretched across his broader shoulders. "The billionaire life agrees with you more
than I would have guessed."
Peter remained seated, his expression unreadable. "What are you doing here, Felicia?"
She laughed, a sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was invited, remember? Your fiancée
arranged this little reunion." She twirled the wine glass between her fingers, the liquid catching
the light. "Quite the power move on her part."
"You know what I mean." Peter's voice hardened slightly. "Why did you apply for this position?
Why now, after all these years?"
Felicia moved closer, leaning forward so that her cleavage was prominently displayed. The scent
of her expensive perfume—something wild and musky with hints of jasmine—filled the space
between them. "Maybe I missed you. Maybe I wanted to see if the rumors were true about how
much you've... grown." Her eyes flicked downward suggestively. "In every possible way."
Peter stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the hardwood floor. His jaw clenched
visibly as a muscle twitched along his temple. The patience that had defined their earlier
conversation evaporated like morning dew under a scorching sun. His eyes—once warm brown
pools that used to look at her with adoration—had hardened into something resolute and
unflinching.
"Cut the bullshit, Felicia," he said, voice dropping an octave. "You only ever wanted Spider-Man,
never Peter Parker. The moment I stopped chasing you, the second I let you be yourself without
judgment—let you steal, let you play your games without consequences—you lost interest. I
became boring to you the moment I stopped being your challenge."
Felicia's practiced smile faltered, her glossy lips parting slightly in surprise. The confidence that
had carried her into the room seemed to drain away under his unflinching gaze. "That's not
fair—" she began, her voice lacking its usual sultry assurance.
"Isn't it?" Peter advanced on her, each deliberate step punctuated by the soft creak of Italian
leather shoes against the floor. His voice had become low and dangerous, carrying a weight
she'd never heard before. His eyes had darkened to almost black, and something about his
posture—shoulders squared, back straight, hands slightly curled at his sides—made Felicia
instinctively back up a step. This wasn't the movement of the awkward scientist she once knew;
this was the predatory grace of someone who had learned to command respect. "You dated and
kissed Daredevil when you knew I was watching just to make me jealous. You flaunted it,
reveled in my pain. And that time I came back to my body after Otto finally let me back in, you
had become the 'Queenpin' of crime just because you thought I had punched you—and you still
continued your criminal empire even when I explained it was Doc Ock controlling my body, not
me."
He took another step forward, the space between them charged with tension. Felicia found
herself retreating, her heels clicking softly as she backed away. The tables had turned
completely—she was now the prey to his hunter.
"And don't get me started on lying about having my child." His voice dropped even lower, barely
above a whisper, yet it filled the room like thunder. Each word was precise, cutting. "Then you
disappeared without a trace, claiming you found some girlfriend in Europe. And now you're
back because what? She dumped you? You saw me on TV with Emma at some gala, noticed the
Fortune 500 company I run, and suddenly remembered I exist?
Felicia backed up until she hit the edge of the dining table, her hands instinctively gripping the
polished mahogany behind her. The cool, smooth surface contrasted with the heat rising to her
cheeks. "Peter, I—" she attempted, her voice uncharacteristically small.
"No," he cut her off sharply, now standing so close she could feel the heat radiating from his
body, could smell the expensive cologne that complemented rather than masked his natural
scent. His presence overwhelmed her senses, making it difficult to maintain her usual
composure. "I want the truth for once, Felicia. No games, no manipulation, no half-truths
wrapped in seduction. Why are you really here?"
Something in his tone—the raw authority that was never there in their previous relationship—
made Felicia's knees weaken slightly. This wasn't the same Peter who used to stammer and
blush around her. This man commanded the room with his presence alone, and she found
herself responding to it on a primal level.
"Fine," she whispered, her usual bravado cracking beneath the weight of his intensity. She set
the wine glass down with a shaky hand, the crystal making a soft clink against the marble
countertop. "I fucked up, okay? I always wanted the chase, the thrill of it all. I wanted SpiderMan swinging across rooftops with me, stealing kisses between freefall and adrenaline rushes,
not Peter Parker worrying about rent and responsibilities and normal life." She swallowed hard,
her throat suddenly dry, the confession tasting bitter on her tongue. "And yes, Tamara left me.
After two years of what I thought was love." A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "Turns out
thieves make terrible partners—we're too selfish, too used to taking what we want without
considering the consequences, too accustomed to disappearing when things get complicated."
Peter's expression remained impassive, carved from stone, his jaw tight with tension. His eyes,
once so open and vulnerable around her, now scrutinized her with cold calculation. "So I'm your
backup plan? Your safety net? The comfortable option now that your exciting life fell apart?"
"No!" Felicia's eyes flashed with genuine emotion, the first real, unguarded feeling she'd
allowed herself to show since entering his apartment. The carefully constructed facade of the
Black Cat crumbled for a moment, revealing the woman beneath. "I saw you with Emma at the
Stark Foundation Gala last year. I wasn't invited, of course—reformed or not, I'm still persona
non grata in certain circles. But I watched from across the street." Her voice softened with the
memory. "You looked... different. Confident. Powerful. Not just physically, but the way you
carried yourself, the way people responded to you. The respect in their eyes."
She reached out hesitantly, her manicured fingertips hovering just shy of touching his chest,
afraid he might recoil from her touch. "The way you commanded the room, the way even Tony
Stark deferred to you when you spoke about the neural interface project... it was like seeing you
for the first time, Peter." Her breath caught in her throat, vulnerability naked in her eyes. "And
then I heard about the babies, about what happened with Emma, about everything you've built
from nothing. The company, the foundation, all of it."
"It'll take more than sex to fix what's broken between us, Felicia," Peter said, his tone softening
slightly. "If that's even possible."
Felicia stepped forward, eliminating the final breath of space between them, her emerald eyes
locking with his in unflinching challenge. "Who said anything about fixing us? I don't want the
friend zone or some nostalgic rooftop rendezvous, Peter." Her fingers finally made contact,
tracing his jawline with a touch so delicate it felt like worship. "I want to be your personal
whore. I want you to claim me like property—use this body however you see fit."
Something ancient and feral ignited behind Peter's eyes—a predatory darkness Felicia had
never witnessed in all their complicated history. Without preamble, his hand shot out, capturing
her wrist in a grip that balanced perfectly between pleasure and pain, drawing a startled gasp
from her painted lips. The sudden display of dominance sent visible tremors cascading through
her curvaceous frame.
"Is that what you want? To be used? To be fucked like you're nothing but a warm hole to fill?"
His voice had transformed into something barely human—a dangerous, guttural rumble that
vibrated through her core.
"Yes," Felicia breathed, her pupils expanding with naked hunger until only thin rings of green
remained, her magnificent chest heaving with each shallow breath. "Christ, yes. I've wasted
years lying to myself—pretending I didn't crave this—didn't desperately need you—but I fucking
do." Her free hand pressed against his chest, fingertips mapping the contoured muscle beneath
fine fabric. "I need you to show me exactly what I missed, what I stupidly threw away when I
had the chance."
With a growl that sent another wave of shivers down her spine, Peter pulled her toward the
door. "Then let's not waste any more time."
.....................
Emma strolled through the Aurora Invicta's corridor, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Peter's
confrontation with Felicia had gone exactly as she'd planned—his newfound confidence and
dominance sending waves of psychic pleasure that Emma could taste like fine wine even from a
distance. She'd carefully orchestrated this reunion, knowing precisely how Felicia's appearance
would trigger Peter's transformation from the shy, hesitant man he once was into the
commanding presence he'd become.
As she turned a corner, Emma spotted Natasha Romanoff leaning against the wall, dressed in a
form-fitting black dress that accentuated every lethal curve of her athletic body. The fabric clung
to her breasts like a second skin, the neckline dipping just low enough to be tantalizing without
revealing too much. The SHIELD agent's crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose
waves, catching the warm ambient lighting of the luxury cruise ship. Despite her seemingly
relaxed posture, Emma could sense the coiled readiness in her stance—a predator at rest, but
never truly off guard. Emma had to admit that ever since Peter had worked his miracle on her
damaged womb and impregnated her, Natasha exuded a newfound contentment and selfassurance that was undeniably attractive.
"I was hoping for a threesome," Natasha declared without a hint of hesitation, pushing off from
the wall to fall into step beside Emma. Her voice was husky and direct, carrying no trace of
embarrassment—just raw, unfiltered desire wrapped in clinical assessment. "You, me, and that
magnificent husband of yours going at it until dawn." She let her gaze drift deliberately to
Emma's swollen belly. "Though I see you've already enjoyed his services quite thoroughly."
Emma laughed, the sound reminiscent of fine crystal glasses clinking together. "Patience, darling
Natasha. Peter has some rather pressing unfinished business with our little feline friend first."
She tapped her temple with one immaculately manicured finger, the icy blue nail polish catching
the light like a shard of frozen sky. "But I've arranged for us to have front-row seats to the entire
performance, if you're interested in watching a master at work."
Natasha's eyes lit up with interest, a slow smile spreading across her face. "How thoughtful of
you." She studied Emma's pregnant form with appreciation. "You're handling this remarkably
well for someone watching her fiancé fuck his ex."
"Former lovers don't concern me," Emma replied with a dismissive wave. "They're merely
chapters in a book where I'm the conclusion." She rested a protective hand on her swollen belly.
"Besides, what better way to assert my dominance than to allow him these... indulgences while
carrying his children? I know exactly where his heart lies."
"And his cock?" Natasha asked bluntly.
"Wherever I permit it to be," Emma responded with a wicked smile. "And currently, I'm
permitting it to teach Ms. Hardy a much-needed lesson in respect."
As they rounded another corner, Emma's steps faltered slightly. Mary Jane Watson stood before
them, her face flushed and her eyes wild with emotion. Her fiery red hair seemed almost alive
with static electricity, framing her face like flames. She wore a simple white sundress that
contrasted sharply with her obvious distress.
"You," Mary Jane said, pointing an accusing finger at Emma. "That nightmare. It was you, wasn't
it? You put those images in my head."
Emma's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "What nightmare?"
"Don't play innocent," Mary Jane hissed, her voice trembling with barely controlled rage. Her
fingers curled into fists at her sides, knuckles whitening with tension. "The future you showed
me—the porn career, the drugs, the loneliness. My daughters hating me." Her voice cracked
slightly, the facade of anger briefly giving way to raw pain. "Jumping off a fucking roof. It was too
real. Too detailed. Like I was actually there, feeling the wind rushing past me before I hit the
ground."
Emma's expression shifted from confusion to concern, the icy blue of her eyes softening almost
imperceptibly. "Mary Jane, I assure you, I had nothing to do with whatever dream you
experienced." She stepped closer, her movements careful and measured, as though
approaching a wounded animal. Her voice softened unexpectedly, losing its usual sardonic edge.
"But I can see it's disturbed you deeply. The psychic residue is practically radiating from you.
Would you like me to look? Perhaps I can help understand what happened, trace the source of
this intrusion."
Mary Jane hesitated, conflict evident in her emerald green eyes. She ran a trembling hand
through her flame-red hair, swallowing hard. The corridor seemed to close in around them as
she weighed her options. Finally, she nodded reluctantly, dropping her defensive posture
slightly. "Fine. Look. But don't you dare mess with anything else in there."
Emma raised her hand, her perfectly manicured fingertips barely brushing Mary Jane's temple.
A faint shimmer of psychic energy pulsed between them as her eyes unfocused slightly, pupils
dilating. She gently probed the redhead's mind, witnessing the vivid nightmare in all its
horrifying detail—the degradation, the exploitation, the slow descent into despair, the
crumbling relationships, the children turning away in disgust, and finally, the desperate leap into
oblivion from a Manhattan rooftop. When she withdrew, her face was troubled, genuine
concern replacing her usual icy demeanor, her brow furrowed with professional intrigue.
"That wasn't my doing," Emma said quietly, dropping her hand to her side. "I don't manipulate
people's minds that way anymore—not since Peter and I got together." She paused, studying
Mary Jane with new interest, as though seeing her for the first time. "It seems your
subconscious has some rather specific fears. But there's something else there—a signature that
doesn't belong."
Mary Jane wrapped her arms around herself protectively, suddenly looking vulnerable beneath
the harsh corridor lighting. Her white sundress seemed to hang more loosely on her frame, as
though the weight of the vision had physically diminished her. "It felt so real. So... possible. Like
I was watching my own future unfold, powerless to change it."
"The future is never fixed," Emma said with unexpected kindness, her pregnant silhouette
casting a protective shadow between Mary Jane and the world. "We make choices every day
that reshape our destinies." She tilted her head, a calculating look entering her eyes, the
compassion not entirely displacing her strategic mind. "Though I must admit, your fear is...
illuminating. Someone has gone to great lengths to plant this particular nightmare in your
mind."
"I'll do anything," Mary Jane said suddenly, her voice raw with emotion. "Anything to be part of
Peter's life again. I can't end up like... that."
Emma regarded her thoughtfully, then simply nodded once—neither mocking nor rejecting the
statement. "Come, Natasha," she said, turning away. "We have a show to watch."
As they walked away, Natasha whispered, "You're just going to leave her like that?"
"Sometimes," Emma replied softly, "the most powerful lesson is one we teach ourselves." She
glanced sideways at the spy. "Besides, that nightmare wasn't entirely natural. Someone or
something planted it there—and I intend to find out who."
"You think someone else is manipulating her?" Natasha asked, her professional interest piqued.
"I know it," Emma confirmed. "That dream had psychic fingerprints all over it—not mine, but
someone's. And they were sloppy enough to leave traces." Her eyes hardened. "No one plays
mind games with people in my orbit without my permission."
"Territorial much?" Natasha smirked.
"You have no idea," Emma replied, her tone suddenly glacial. "When it comes to protecting
what's mine, I make the Winter Soldier look like a playground monitor."
...........................
In Emma and Peter's luxurious suite, Storm and Jean were already waiting, lounging on the
plush sofa with glasses of champagne in hand. Storm's white hair cascaded over her shoulders
in stark contrast to her chocolate skin, while Jean's fiery red locks were pulled into a loose bun,
tendrils framing her face. Both women had the healthy glow of early pregnancy, their hands
occasionally drifting to their still-flat stomachs in unconscious gestures of protection and
connection to the new lives growing within them. The afternoon sun streamed through floor-toceiling windows, casting a golden glow across the imported marble floors and custom furniture
that defined Emma's impeccable taste.
"Ladies," Emma greeted them with a smile, her diamond form momentarily catching the light
before she shifted back to flesh. "I've arranged something special for our entertainment today."
Her Louboutins clicked precisely against the floor as she moved toward the bar cart, perfectly
manicured fingers selecting a crystal decanter.
She gestured toward the massive wall screen, which flickered to life showing multiple camera
angles of an elegantly appointed cabin. The wooden interior gleamed with polish, a roaring
fireplace casting dancing shadows across luxurious fur rugs and bespoke furniture. The Cuckoos
appeared from an adjoining room, moving with synchronized grace, carrying silver trays of
delicate appetizers and ruby-red cherry juice for the pregnant women, along with sparkling
water for Emma. Their identical blonde heads nodded in unison as they arranged everything
just so.
"Is this what I think it is?" Jean asked, her emerald eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned
forward, selecting a caviar-topped canapé from the tray.
"Peter's about to give our dear Felicia a proper reunion," Emma confirmed, settling onto the
sofa and smoothing her immaculate white skirt. "I thought we might enjoy watching. The feed is
in 8K, of course—I spare no expense for quality entertainment." She tapped a manicured nail
against her glass, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she adjusted one of her
diamond earrings.
Storm took a sip of her cherry juice, her expression unreadable, though the slight tensing of her
shoulders betrayed her mixed feelings. Her eyes, mist-white and ethereal, briefly met Emma's
icy blue ones across the pristine coffee table. "How thoughtful of you to share, Emma."
"I'm nothing if not generous," Emma purred, her eyes fixed on the screen as the cabin door
burst open with enough force to rattle the antique door hinges. She leaned back against the
plush cushions, crossing her legs at the ankle, the very picture of satisfied anticipation.
....................
Peter practically dragged Felicia into the private cabin, slamming the door behind them with
enough force to rattle the hinges. The sound echoed through the space like a thunderclap,
announcing the storm that was about to break between them. Before she could speak, he
pushed her against the wall, his mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss that was more
punishment than passion.
"Mmmph!" Felicia moaned against his lips, her hands immediately moving to unbutton his shirt,
fingers trembling with eagerness. The expensive fabric parted beneath her touch, revealing the
chiseled perfection of his chest—so different from the lean build she remembered, now
sculpted with dense, powerful muscle.
Peter pulled back, his eyes dark with desire and lingering anger. A muscle twitched in his jaw as
he stared down at her, something primal and dangerous lurking behind his gaze.
"You want to be my slut?" he growled, his voice deeper than she'd ever heard it, resonating
through her body like a physical touch. "Then you'll take what I give you, how I give it to you."
With a swift motion, he grabbed the front of her expensive silver dress and tore it down the
middle, the sound of ripping fabric filling the room like the opening of a forbidden gift. The
metallic material gave way with surprising ease, as though even the finest silk couldn't
withstand the force of his desire. Felicia gasped, both shocked and aroused by his aggression,
her magnificent breasts still contained in a delicate black lace bra that contrasted beautifully
with her pale skin.
"Peter!" she exclaimed, but the protest died in her throat as he roughly palmed her breasts
through the lacy fabric, his thumbs circling her hardening nipples with deliberate, almost
punishing pressure. The sensation sent electric currents straight to her core, making her pussy
clench with anticipation.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Peter said, his voice a dangerous rumble as his fingers found
the clasp of her bra and snapped it open with practiced ease. The delicate hooks gave way like
they were nothing. "The powerful man taking what he wants? No more sweet, understanding
Peter Parker? No more doormat for you to walk all over?"
Her breasts spilled free, full and perky with dusky pink nipples that pebbled instantly under his
hungry gaze. They were even more magnificent than he remembered—high and firm despite
their generous size, the pale flesh unmarked and perfect, a testament to her athletic lifestyle
and superhuman agility. Peter stepped back, stripping off his own clothes with efficient, almost
angry movements until he stood gloriously naked before her, his body a masterpiece of
superhuman perfection—every muscle defined, scars telling stories of battles won, power
evident in every inch of him.
"Holy fucking shit," Felicia whispered reverently, her blue eyes wide and her glossy lips parted as
her gaze locked on his cock, nine thick, vein-ridged inches of rigid masculinity jutting proudly
from a nest of dark curls. Pre-cum beaded at the flared purple head like a promise of the flood
to come. "You weren't that big before. You were big but not... Jesus Christ, Parker. Not even
close to this. What happened to you?"
Peter smirked, an expression so unlike his former self that Felicia felt a delicious shiver run
down her spine, her nipples tightening further. There was something darkly satisfying about
seeing the transformation in him—the boy she'd once manipulated and abandoned now
replaced by a man who clearly intended to take control and make her pay for every teasing
moment.
"You'll get used to it," he promised darkly, his hand wrapping around the impressive girth of his
shaft, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke, "every... single... inch," before kissing her again and
pushing her toward the bed. His tongue invaded her mouth, claiming territory as his hands
roughly tore away the remains of her dress, the expensive fabric falling in tatters around her
ankles, leaving her in nothing but a tiny black thong that barely covered her glistening sex and
her silver stiletto heels.
They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, Peter's weight pinning her down as his mouth
claimed hers. His kisses were demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth with possessive
strokes while his hands roamed her body with confident familiarity. One hand slid between her
thighs, pushing aside the thin material of her thong to find her already wet and ready.
"Schlick, schlick," came the lewd, wet sounds as his fingers explored her folds.
"Eager little kitty," he murmured against her lips, the heat of his breath mingling with hers.
"Let's see how many times I can make you cum before you start begging me to stop."
His fingers traced her slick folds with deliberate slowness before two thick digits plunged inside
her without warning. Felicia arched violently off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips at the
sudden intrusion, her inner walls clenching around him hungrily.
"Fuck! Peter, that feels so fucking good," she moaned, her hips bucking wildly to meet his hand,
desperate for more of that exquisite pressure. "Oh god, your fingers are so much bigger too...
everything about you is just... massive now."
"Everything about me is bigger now," he whispered hotly against her ear, his voice dripping with
dark promise. "And you're going to take every last inch before the night is through. Every. Single.
Inch."
Peter worked his fingers in and out of her tight, sopping channel, his calloused thumb finding
her swollen clit and circling it with devastating precision. His mouth descended to her neck,
biting and sucking with savage intensity—leaving territorial brands that made Felicia whimper
and writhe beneath him.
"Slurp, suck," he worked at her neck, marking a constellation of purple bruises that would be
impossible to conceal.
"You're so fucking wet," Peter growled against her flushed skin, the vibration of his voice
sending electric currents racing down her spine. "Your pussy is practically flooding for me." He
curled his fingers inside her with expert knowledge, finding that secret spot that made her
vision blur at the edges. "Is this what you fantasized about all those years ago? For me to stop
being your good little Spider and just ravage you like the thief you are?"
"Yes!" Felicia gasped, her inner walls fluttering frantically around his invading fingers as her
orgasm built with frightening speed. "I wanted you to stop holding back—oh fuck, Peter, I'm
gonna cum so hard!"
"Then cum for me," he commanded, increasing both the pressure and tempo of his skilled
fingers. "Show me exactly how much that tight little pussy has missed this cock."
"Ah! AH! AHHHH!" Felicia's body went rigid as steel, her back arching like a bowstring pulled to
its breaking point, her platinum hair cascading across the dark sheets in a silvery waterfall. A
powerful gush of warm fluid soaked Peter's hand and wrist as she screamed his name into the
night, her pussy contracting violently around his fingers. Her sculpted thighs quivered
uncontrollably, her toes curling painfully in her silver stilettos as pleasure crashed through her
system like a tidal wave, drowning her in sensations so intense they bordered on painful ecstasy.
Before she could recover, he adjusted his position and drove his fingers deeper, his thumb never
ceasing its relentless assault on her sensitive clit. The wet sounds of her arousal filled the cabin
like a lewd symphony, each thrust of his fingers producing obscenely wet noises that seemed to
echo off the walls.
"Squelch, squelch, squelch," his fingers moved faster inside her, the pitch rising with his
increasing tempo.
"Again," he demanded, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that brooked no argument.
"I want to see you squirt for me again, Felicia. Show me what a dirty fucking girl you really are."
"I can't—it's too much—oh god—" she protested weakly, her chest heaving with rapid, shallow
breaths, her creamy skin flushed crimson with exertion and pleasure. But even as she begged
for mercy, her body betrayed her—her hips bucking frantically against his hand as a second,
more powerful orgasm built with shocking speed in her core.
"You can, cat," Peter insisted, adding a third finger to stretch her further, the additional girth
making her eyes roll back. "Show me what a good little slut you can be for me. Show me how
much that greedy pussy has missed being fucked properly by a real man."
The combination of his commanding tone and the merciless curl of his fingers against that
perfect spot inside her pushed Felicia over the edge again. This time, her orgasm was
explosive—a violent torrent of her juices soaking the sheets beneath them as she wailed in
uninhibited ecstasy.
"PETER! FUCK! OH MY GOD! I'M CUMMING AGAIN!" she screamed, her body convulsing wildly
as pleasure overwhelmed every nerve ending. Her inner walls clamped down on his fingers with
almost painful intensity, her release gushing around them in a spectacular display of feminine
surrender.
"That's it," Peter praised, slowly withdrawing his drenched fingers from her quivering sex. He
brought them to her lips, the digits glistening with her essence in the dim light. "Clean them.
Taste how wet you get for me."
Felicia obediently opened her mouth without hesitation, sucking her own essence from his
fingers with hungry, wanton enthusiasm. Her emerald eyes locked with his, silently
communicating her complete submission as her tongue swirled expertly around each digit,
making sure not to miss a single drop of her tangy sweetness.
"Slurp, mmm," she moaned around his fingers, savoring her own taste on his skin. "So fucking
good."
When his fingers were clean, Peter shifted on the bed, his monstrous erection throbbing
violently against his abdomen. The veins bulged along its impressive length like rivers on a map
of masculine desire. "Now it's your turn to please me. Show me how much you've missed this
cock, kitten."
Felicia crawled down his body with predatory grace, her emerald eyes widening with a mixture
of awe and hunger at the sight before her. His massive shaft stood proudly against his toned
stomach, veins pulsating with each powerful heartbeat, the swollen purple head glistening with
anticipation.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Peter," she whispered with reverent devotion, her delicate fingers
wrapping around his shaft only to discover they couldn't meet. "You're even bigger than I
remembered. So thick... so fucking massive." Another flood of arousal dampened her thighs as
she gazed at his imposing manhood. "I don't know if I can take all of this anymore. It's been so
long..."
"You will," Peter commanded, his voice dark with dominance as he caressed her cheek. "Every.
Single. Inch. But first, I want that filthy mouth of yours wrapped around me."
Felicia's pink tongue darted out, collecting the pearly bead of pre-cum that had gathered at his
slit. "Mmm," she moaned shamelessly at his salty-sweet flavor. She wrapped her black-painted
lips around his bulbous crown, sucking with deliberate pressure while her tongue danced
expertly around the sensitive ridge.
"Slurp, pop, mmm," the obscene symphony of her mouth worshipping his cock echoed through
the bedroom.
"That's it," Peter groaned, his powerful hand tangling in her platinum tresses. "Deeper. Take
more for me."
Felicia descended his shaft with determined hunger, each bob of her head taking him deeper
into her warm, wet mouth. Her dark lipstick left a trail of inky rings along his length—a lewd
measurement of her progress that made his cock twitch with approval. One manicured hand
massaged his heavy, cum-filled balls while the other pumped what her mouth couldn't yet
accommodate.
"Fuck, your slutty mouth feels incredible," Peter hissed through clenched teeth, his hips
instinctively thrusting upward to feed her more of his girth. "But we both know you can swallow
more than that, can't you, kitten?"
He tightened his grip in her hair, controlling her movements as she struggled to accommodate
his impressive size. Mascara-tinged tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she fought to
relax her throat, the challenge visibly intensifying her arousal. Her muffled moans vibrated
through his shaft, drawing a primal growl from deep within his chest.
"Gluk, gluk, glurk," she choked slightly as his massive head pushed against her throat's
entrance, but instead of retreating, she pushed forward with renewed determination.
"That's my good little cocksucker," Peter praised as she finally managed to swallow him to the
base, her nose pressing against his pubic bone. "Your perfect fucking throat was made for my
cock, wasn't it?"
"Mmmm-hmmm," Felicia hummed enthusiastically, the vibrations sending electric currents of
pleasure shooting through his groin. She held herself there, throat convulsing around him,
before pulling back with a desperate gasp. A thick rope of saliva connected her swollen lips to
his glistening shaft. Her mascara had smeared into black rivulets down her flushed cheeks—a
debauched portrait of submission that only enhanced her raw beauty.
"Your balls," she panted, her voice husky with lust as she moved lower. "I need to taste every
inch of you, Peter."
She drew one heavy testicle into her hot mouth, sucking with gentle pressure while her hand
continued stroking his spit-slickened shaft. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive skin with
practiced expertise, drawing a sharp hiss of pleasure from between Peter's teeth.
"Suck, slurp, mmm," she worshipped his sack with unrestrained enthusiasm, leaving black
lipstick marks across his balls—marking her territory in the most primal way.
"Such a perfect cocksucker," he praised, watching her debase herself with hooded, hungry eyes.
"I'm going to cum soon. You're going to swallow every fucking drop, understand? I want to see
that gorgeous throat working as you drink down every last drop of my load."
Felicia nodded eagerly, returning to his throbbing shaft with renewed vigor. She took him
impossibly deep again, her throat muscles rippling around his sensitive head as she swallowed
repeatedly, milking him with expert precision. The exquisite sensation pushed Peter beyond his
limits.
"Fuck, I'm cumming," he growled, his powerful hands locking her head in place as his release
built to its inevitable crescendo. "Take it all, Felicia. Drink my cum like the perfect little cumhungry cat slut you are."
His cock erupted with violent force, each pulse sending thick, creamy ropes of seed flooding into
her eager mouth. Felicia's emerald eyes bulged in shock at the overwhelming volume—his cum
had the consistency of heavy cream, practically chunky in its thickness as it gushed forth like a
broken dam. She struggled valiantly against the onslaught, her throat working overtime as she
gulped desperately to keep pace with his seemingly endless production.
"Gulp, gulp, mmm, gulp," she swallowed frantically, her delicate throat visibly bulging with each
massive swallow as Peter's balls emptied their heavy load directly into her stomach.
When his grip finally loosened on her platinum locks, she pulled back with a gasping, wet pop,
fighting for breath as pearly rivulets escaped the corners of her swollen lips, trailing down her
flushed chin and dripping onto her heaving breasts. Her chest rose and fell dramatically, those
magnificent tits bouncing hypnotically with each desperate intake of air.
"Jesus fucking Christ," she whispered reverently, her pink tongue darting out to collect the
escaped essence. "You taste incredible, Peter. So rich and hot... goddamn, there's at least twice
as much as before. What the hell have you been eating?"
Peter didn't grant her the luxury of recovery. With spider-enhanced strength that still managed
to surprise her, he flipped her onto her belly in one fluid motion, roughly yanking her hips
upward until she assumed the position—hands and knees, that magnificent heart-shaped ass
thrust high in supplication. He seized her flimsy black thong and ripped it away with savage
impatience, the delicate designer fabric surrendering instantly to his superhuman power.
"We're just getting started," he snarled, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave as he
positioned his still-rigid member against her glistening entrance. "I'm nowhere near done with
you yet."
Peter slapped Felicia's ass hard, leaving a bright red handprint on her pale skin that made her
yelp in surprise and arousal. The sharp sound echoed through the cabin like a thunderclap,
followed immediately by her breathless moan.
"This isn't going to be gentle, Felicia," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre that
sent shivers racing down her spine. "This isn't going to be loving. Not until I've fucked all that
betrayal out of my system."
"Yes," she moaned, arching her back and pushing her ass back toward him like a cat in heat.
"Use me, Peter. Punish me. I deserve it." Her platinum hair cascaded down her back in a silver
waterfall, swaying with each desperate movement of her body. "I've thought about this for
years... dreamed about it... please..."
Peter ran his still-hard cock through her soaked folds, coating himself in her abundant juices.
The lewd schlick, schlick sounds filled the room as he slid his massive length between her labia,
teasing her entrance without penetrating. Her pussy lips parted eagerly, glistening with need in
the dim light.
"Remember who owns this pussy," he said, his voice dark with possession as he lined himself up
with her entrance. "Remember who you threw away."
"I remember," she whimpered, her entire body trembling with anticipation. "God, I was such a
fool. I've never stopped thinking about—AHHHHH!"
With one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her. Felicia screamed, her inner
walls stretching painfully to accommodate his enormous size. Her fingers clawed desperately at
the sheets, knuckles turning white as her body struggled to adjust to his invasion.
"FUCK! Oh my GOD, Peter!" she cried out, her voice breaking with the intensity of the
sensation. "So big! You're splitting me in half!"
Peter didn't wait for her to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace that had the headboard
slamming against the wall with each thrust. Thud, thud, thud – the rhythm of their coupling
punctuated by Felicia's increasingly desperate cries.
"Take it," he commanded, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped
bruises, pulling her back to meet each punishing thrust. "This what you wanted, isn't it?" he
grunted, his cock reaching depths inside her that had never been touched before. "To be fucked
like a whore? To be reminded of what you gave up?"
"Yes! Yes!" Felicia sobbed, her pleasure mingling with the exquisite pain of his size as tears
streamed down her face. "I'm your slut, Peter! I've always been yours! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh
fuuuuck!"
The wet sounds of their coupling grew louder as her arousal increased, her pussy making
obscene squelch, squelch, squelch noises with each powerful thrust. Her magnificent breasts
swung beneath her like ripe fruit, nipples hard as diamonds, brushing against the silken sheets
with each impact.
He reached forward, grabbing a handful of her platinum hair and pulling back sharply, forcing
her to arch her spine into an almost impossible curve. Her scalp tingled with delicious pain as he
used her hair like reins, controlling her movements completely.
"You left me," he reminded her, punctuating each word with a deep, punishing thrust. "You.
Left. Me. You chose someone else. Now I'm supposed to believe you're mine?"
"I was stupid!" she cried, mascara-tinted tears of pleasure streaming down her flushed face,
leaving black trails across her cheeks. "I'll never leave again! I swear! Oh fuck, I'm going to cum!"
Peter released her hair to deliver another stinging slap to her ass, the sound like a gunshot in
the cabin. Her pale flesh immediately bloomed with another crimson handprint, the sight of his
mark on her driving him to thrust even harder.
"Not yet," he commanded, voice dripping with dominance. "You don't cum until I say you can."
Felicia whimpered, her entire body shaking as she desperately tried to hold back her orgasm.
Her inner walls fluttered around his invading shaft, her thighs trembling with the effort of
restraint. Peter continued his relentless assault on her pussy, the brutal pace never faltering as
sweat glistened on his muscled torso.
His hand moved around to grope her swinging breasts, capturing one magnificent globe in his
palm. He squeezed roughly, feeling its perfect weight before pinching and twisting her nipple
with just the right amount of pain to heighten her pleasure.
"Mmmmm... oh god... nnnngh," she moaned, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please,
Peter," she begged, her voice breaking with need. "Please let me cum. I need it so bad. I can't
hold it anymore!"
"Tell me who owns this pussy," Peter demanded, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a torturous
pace that had her sobbing with frustration. He barely moved inside her, just grinding against
that perfect spot deep inside that made her see stars. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You do!" Felicia sobbed, pushing back against him frantically, trying to force him deeper. Her
desperation was palpable, her entire body shaking with need. "My pussy belongs to you, Peter!
I belong to you! Please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything... be anything you want... just please let
me cum!"
His hand snaked around to find her clit, swollen and throbbing with need. He circled it with his
thumb, applying just enough pressure to drive her wild without tipping her over the edge.
"Cum for me," he finally allowed, speeding up his thrusts again to a punishing rhythm while his
fingers worked her sensitive bundle of nerves. "Show me how much you love this cock."
"Oh god, PETER! I'M CUMMING!" Felicia's orgasm hit her like a freight train, her inner walls
clamping down on Peter's shaft with vice-like pressure as waves of pleasure crashed through
her body. Her back arched impossibly, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she screamed his
name. Her arms gave out and she collapsed face-first into the mattress, her ass still raised for
him to use as her body convulsed with aftershocks.
"Fuck fuck fuck," she chanted into the pillow, her voice muffled and broken as her body
quivered with the intensity of her release. "So good... so fucking good... oh my god, I can't... I
can't even... your cock is destroying me..."
"That's one," Peter said with dark satisfaction, never stopping his relentless pounding as she
trembled beneath him. His cock glistened with her abundant juices, each withdrawal revealing
how completely drenched they both were—her cream coating him from base to tip, dripping
down his balls and onto the sheets below. "Let's see how many more you can take before you're
completely broken."
He continued fucking her through the aftershocks, his pace never faltering as he gripped her
hips with bruising force. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room like
thunderclaps, accompanied by the increasingly obscene squelching noises of her arousal. Her
pussy made wet, sucking sounds each time he withdrew, as if desperately trying to keep him
inside. Within minutes, Felicia was building toward another climax, her oversensitive body
responding to his skilled manipulation despite her exhaustion, her inner walls fluttering around
his shaft in warning.
"Wait... I can't—it's too much—oh fuck—" she gasped, her voice cracking as sweat dripped
down her spine, even as her hips continued to meet his thrusts with desperate need, her body
betraying her words with its eager, hungry response. Her thighs trembled violently, threatening
to give out entirely.
"You can and you will," Peter insisted, his voice dropping to a commanding growl that sent
shivers down her spine. His hand came down on her ass again with another resounding SMACK
that echoed through the bedroom. The impact sent shockwaves through her flesh, leaving
another perfect red handprint on her pale skin and making her pussy clench around him
involuntarily with a flood of fresh wetness. "This is what you wanted, remember? To be my slut? My fucktoy? My personal cum dump? Then take what I give you and thank me for it and be
thankful cat slut."
"Yes! Thank you! Thank you for fucking me!" Felicia cried out, her words slurring together as
pleasure overwhelmed her senses. Her knees slid further apart on the silk sheets, opening
herself completely to his assault. "Use me... oh god... nnnngh... harder!"
Peter's pace became punishing, each thrust driving her further up the bed until she had to brace
her palms against the headboard to keep from smashing into it. The wooden frame creaked
dangerously under the force of their coupling, threatening to splinter. His hands gripped her
hips with bruising force, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her back to meet each
devastating thrust.
"Schlap! Schlap! Schlap!" The wet, obscene sounds of their bodies colliding filled the cabin,
punctuated by Felicia's increasingly desperate moans and Peter's controlled grunts.
"Your pussy feels so fucking good squeezing my cock," Peter growled, one hand sliding up her
sweat-slicked back to tangle in her platinum hair again. He yanked her head back sharply,
forcing her to arch her spine into that impossible curve that displayed her submission so
perfectly. "Is this how you imagined it? Getting fucked like a bitch in heat by the man you threw
away?"
"Better!" Felicia gasped, mascara-stained tears streaming freely down her flushed face. "So
much better than I ever—OH FUCK!"
Her words dissolved into incoherent screams as Peter's free hand reached beneath her to find
her swollen clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves with devastating precision.
The dual assault—his massive cock stretching her inner walls while his skilled fingers worked her
clit—pushed her rapidly toward another explosive climax.
"I'm cumming again!" she wailed, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his invading
shaft. "Peter! PETER! FUUUUCK!"
Her second orgasm crashed through her almost immediately, her body convulsing violently as
she screamed into the pillow, biting down on the expensive silk to muffle the sounds of her
absolute surrender. This time, her pussy squirted powerfully around his still-thrusting cock,
drenching both of them with her release. The warm fluid gushed between them in pulsing
waves, soaking the sheets beneath them and splashing audibly with each continued thrust.
"Splash! Squish! Splash!" The sounds of her ejaculation mingled with her muffled screams,
creating a symphony of feminine surrender that echoed throughout the cabin.
Peter finally slowed his relentless pace, allowing her a moment to catch her breath as the
aftershocks of her powerful climax rippled through her trembling form. His cock remained
buried deep inside her, throbbing with each beat of his heart, a constant reminder of his
dominance and her willing submission.
"Turn over," he commanded, his voice rough with desire as he withdrew from her drenched
channel with a wet pop. "I want to see your face when I fill you with my cum."
Felicia rolled onto her back, her body trembling with exertion, platinum hair splayed across the
pillows like a silver halo. Her makeup was thoroughly ruined—black mascara tracks running
down her flushed cheeks from her tears of pleasure, black lipstick smeared across her face from
their brutal kisses. Her lips were swollen and red, and her neck and magnificent breasts were
marked with a constellation of possessive bites and dark purple bruises—evidence of Peter's
claim on her body.
She looked utterly debauched—used and marked in the most primal way possible—yet there
was something transcendent in her expression, a mixture of satisfaction and yearning that made
her more beautiful than ever. Her emerald eyes, though glazed with pleasure, held a
vulnerability Peter had never seen before, a raw honesty that struck him somewhere deep in his
chest.
"God, you're beautiful like this," Peter murmured, his tone softening slightly as he positioned
himself between her splayed legs. He lifted them effortlessly, pressing her knees back toward
her shoulders in a perfect mating press, opening her completely to his gaze and his cock. Her
pussy glistened in the dim light, swollen and pink from his attention, her abundant juices
coating her inner thighs and the sheets beneath her.
He entered her again in one smooth thrust, making her gasp loudly as he reached even deeper
in this position. The head of his cock pressed against her cervix, the slight pain mingling with
pleasure to create an exquisite cocktail of sensation that had her eyes rolling back.
"Mmmmmph... oh god... so deep," she whimpered, looking up at him with desperate, pleading
eyes, her hands clutching weakly at his forearms. "I can feel you in my fucking womb, Peter."
"Please," she continued, her voice breaking with raw need. "Fill me up. I need your cum inside
me. I've dreamed about it for years—woken up soaking wet, fingers buried in my pussy,
pretending it was you pumping me full."
Peter leaned down, capturing her mouth in a surprisingly tender kiss as he began to move again.
This time his pace was measured, deliberate, each thrust calculated to hit her most sensitive
spots. His tongue mirrored the movements of his cock, slipping between her lips to claim her
mouth as thoroughly as he claimed her body.
"Mmm... slurp... mmm," the wet sounds of their kisses mingled with the slick noises of their
joining below.
"Is this what you imagined all these years?" he asked when they finally broke apart, his voice
husky with exertion, his breath hot against her lips. "Being underneath me, taking my cock,
begging for my cum?"
"Yes," Felicia admitted, her hands clutching at his back, nails digging into the corded muscle
there. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels locking at the small of his back to pull him
deeper. "Every man and woman I've been with since you, I closed my eyes and pretended it was
you. None of them compared. Not even close."
She cupped his face in her trembling hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "They couldn't make
me feel the way you do. Couldn't make me cum like this. Couldn't make me beg the way I'm
begging you now." A single tear escaped the corner of her eye, tracking through the already
smeared mascara. "I was such a fucking idiot, Peter. I threw away the best thing I ever had
because I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me."
Something in her honesty touched him, breaking through the anger that had fueled their
encounter thus far. His thrusts became more passionate, less punishing—still powerful and
deep, but with a tenderness that hadn't been there before. He kissed away the tear on her
cheek, his lips gentle against her salt-stained skin.
"I'm close, Felicia," he warned, his rhythm faltering slightly as his release built at the base of his
spine, his balls drawing up tight against his body. "Where do you want it?"
"Inside," she begged without hesitation, tightening her legs around his waist to prevent him
from pulling out. Her inner walls rippled around his shaft, trying to milk the seed from him with
greedy pulses. "Please, Peter, I need to feel you cum inside me. Make me yours completely.
Mark me from the inside out."
With a final, powerful thrust, Peter hilted himself completely inside her and released with a
guttural groan that seemed torn from the very depths of his soul. Thick spurts of hot seed
flooded her womb in powerful jets, so much that it immediately began to leak out around his
shaft despite how deeply he was embedded within her. The pressure of his cum filling her was
visible—her lower abdomen actually bulging slightly with the sheer volume of his release.
"Nnngh... fuck... taking it all," Peter groaned, his hips jerking with each massive pulse of his
orgasm, pumping rope after rope of thick cream into her eager body. "Taking all my fucking
cum, Felicia."
The sensation of being filled so completely—the heat and pressure of his seed flooding her
deepest parts—triggered Felicia's third orgasm. Her pussy clamped down on his cock with
almost painful intensity, milking every last drop as she screamed his name one final time. Her
entire body convulsed beneath him, back arching off the bed as her legs locked him in place, her
nails leaving bloody tracks down his back as she held onto him for dear life.
"PETER! OH GOD, PETER! I CAN FEEL IT! SO MUCH CUM!" she wailed, her voice breaking with
the intensity of her pleasure. "You're filling me up... oh fuck... breeding me like a fucking
animal!"
The waves of pleasure seemed endless, aftershocks rippling through both their bodies as they
clung to each other, sweat-slicked skin sliding against skin. Peter's hips continued to make small,
involuntary thrusts, working his seed deeper into her as her inner walls fluttered and pulsed
around him, drawing out every last drop.
When the last pulses of their shared pleasure finally subsided, Peter collapsed beside her, both
of them breathing heavily. Felicia curled against him immediately, her body still trembling with
aftershocks, her hand resting possessively on his chest as though afraid he might disappear if
she let go.
"Fuck, Peter," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming, her breath hot against his skin.
"You fucked me like a ten-dollar whore you owned." She looked up at him with wonder in her
eyes, something like awe shining through the exhaustion. "You made my pussy yours."
Peter kissed her deeply, his hand caressing her face with unexpected tenderness. His thumb
traced the high curve of her cheekbone, wiping away the remnants of mascara and tears.
"We're not done yet," he murmured against her lips, his voice a dark promise that sent fresh
shivers racing down her spine. His fingers trailed down her back, following the elegant curve of
her spine until they reached the cleft of her ass, circling her tight rear entrance with deliberate
intent. "Your punishment isn't over."
Felicia moaned, her eyes widening as she felt his cock hardening against her thigh again. "God,
you're still hard? What did Emma do to you?" She reached down between them, her delicate
fingers wrapping around his shaft with reverent appreciation, feeling it pulse back to full rigidity
with astonishing speed. "Christ, Parker. You're fucking insatiable now."
Instead of answering, Peter rolled her onto her hands and knees again. His hand delivered
another stinging slap to her already reddened ass, the sound sharp in the quiet aftermath of
their previous coupling. Felicia gasped, then moaned as the pain bloomed into pleasure, her
pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the feeling of being filled.
Understanding what was coming next, she arched her back in a perfect curve, reaching behind
to spread her ass cheeks invitingly. Her fingers dimpled the firm flesh as she exposed her most
intimate entrance to his hungry gaze. The sight of Felicia offering herself so completely made
Peter's cock throb with renewed need. She made her cheeks clap together obscenely, looking
over her shoulder with a seductive smile that couldn't quite mask the vulnerability flickering in
her ice-blue eyes.
"Take it, Spider," she purred, her earlier submission transformed into wanton eagerness. "Take
my ass like you own it too." She wiggled her hips in a hypnotic rhythm that made the globes of
her perfect ass jiggle enticingly, her platinum hair spilling down her back like liquid silver
catching moonlight. "Make me your three-hole slut."
Peter positioned his still-slick cock against her tight pucker, feeling the resistant ring of muscle
quiver against his sensitive head. One hand reached around to glide through her soaked folds,
gathering the intoxicating mixture of her abundant juices and his own thick cum to serve as
natural lubrication. He methodically smeared the slippery cocktail around her puckered
entrance, his middle finger pressing inside to the first knuckle, then deeper, feeling her inner
walls grip him hungrily.
"This is going to hurt," he warned, his voice husky with desire yet tinged with genuine concern
as he pressed forward with deliberate patience. The massive head of his enhanced cock began
stretching her forbidden entrance, the tight ring gradually yielding to his persistent pressure like
a flower slowly blooming.
"I'm counting on it," Felicia replied, her voice strained with a delicious cocktail of pain and
desperate arousal. She pushed back against him with surprising force, her entire body quivering
with effort as the bulbous head of his cock finally breached her tight sphincter with an obscene
pop that tore guttural groans from both their throats. "Oh fuck... oh god... so big... so fucking
huge..."
Her manicured nails clawed frantically at the sweat-dampened sheets, knuckles blanching white
with tension as she fought to accommodate his invasive girth. Fresh tears glistened in her eyes,
catching the dim light as they threatened to spill, but instead of begging him to stop, she
impaled herself further, taking another thick inch of his massive cock with a broken, shuddering
sob that resonated with the exquisite agony of forbidden pleasure.
........................
In Emma's luxurious suite, the four women observed the carnal spectacle with intense
fascination. The wall-sized screen displayed Peter claiming Felicia's final virgin territory from
multiple angles, the crystal-clear definition capturing every quiver, every bead of sweat, every
inch of his massive invasion. Storm shifted restlessly in her seat, her thighs pressing together
then parting as Peter's enormous shaft disappeared deeper into Felicia's stretched entrance.
The weather goddess's eyes had darkened to the color of thunderheads, and beyond the
porthole windows, raindrops began striking the glass in perfect synchronization with her racing
heartbeat.
"Goddess above," Storm breathed, her voice thick with barely restrained lust, her gaze locked
on the display. "I never imagined Peter could possess such... raw dominance." Her elegant
fingers traced unconscious patterns along her thigh, creeping dangerously higher with each
circular motion as Felicia's symphony of pleasure-pain filled the cabin through Emma's premium
audio system.
Jean nodded, her alabaster cheeks now burning as crimson as her flowing hair. Tiny flickers of
cosmic flame danced in her irises, the Phoenix responding instinctively to her mounting arousal.
"Perhaps we should deny him more frequently if this is the result." She caught her plump lower
lip between her teeth as Peter delivered another resounding slap to Felicia's already crimson
ass, the sharp crack echoing through the speakers. "Mmm... I wonder if he'd unleash that
savagery on me if I begged for it."
"SLAP!" The sound of Peter's palm connecting with Felicia's tender flesh again reverberated
through the cabin, followed by her desperate, broken moan.
"I'd volunteer as his next target without hesitation," Natasha purred, the sound dripping with
sensual promise. She uncrossed her legs deliberately, allowing them to part invitingly, her black
dress riding up to expose a mouthwatering expanse of toned, deadly thigh. "The spider has
certainly mastered his equipment. And what equipment it is..." she gestured appreciatively
toward the screen where Peter was now buried completely in Felicia's quivering body, "...truly a
marvel of mutation, wouldn't you agree?"
Emma merely smiled, her manicured fingers caressing the gentle swell of her abdomen where
Peter's children grew within her. Through her telepathic awareness, she detected the Cuckoos
watching from their private quarters, their collective consciousness radiating waves of
indignation and jealousy that washed over her psyche.
It's completely unfair, Celeste protested mentally, her frustration pulsing through their psychic
connection. We're legally adults now. Why are we excluded from the rotation?
We've been perfectly obedient, Phoebe added, her thoughts tinged with something hungrier,
more demanding. We've earned our opportunity.
Biologically speaking, he possesses more than enough virility for all of us, Mindee reasoned
clinically, prompting Emma to stifle an amused laugh.
Emma's smile widened as she stroked her growing belly. Patience, my dears. Everything in its
proper time. Peter currently has his hands—and other appendages—quite thoroughly occupied,
as you can plainly see.
On screen, Felicia's primal screams intensified as Peter stretched her beyond what she'd
believed possible. Her spine arched in an almost impossible curve as he buried himself
completely inside her, her platinum tresses cascading across the rumpled sheets like liquid
moonlight.
"FUCK! So fucking HUGE! So goddamn BIG!" Felicia wailed, her voice fracturing with
overwhelming sensation. "It hurts so fucking good, Peter! Christ, you're tearing me in two!"
"Take every inch," Peter commanded, his voice dropping to a register none of them had heard
before, vibrating with primal authority. "Every. Single. Fucking. Inch."
The obscene soundtrack of their rutting blasted through the speakers—squelch, slap, squelch—
punctuated by Felicia's increasingly desperate, animal moans and Peter's controlled, dominant
grunts.
"I've never witnessed this side of him," Jean whispered, perching on the edge of her seat,
emerald eyes wide with undisguised fascination. "So utterly commanding, so... magnificently
powerful."
"It is glorious to behold," Storm agreed, her Kenyan accent thickening noticeably as her arousal
mounted. A distant, ominous rumble of thunder punctuated her words, the elements outside
responding instinctively to her heightened emotional state. "He is unleashing his true nature
upon her without restraint."
Emma observed with profound satisfaction, understanding that what they witnessed
transcended mere physical coupling. Peter's seed, enhanced through his connection to the Web
of Life and Destiny, carried transformation beyond genetic material. It initiated change—a
fundamental reshaping of the recipient at a cellular level. She'd experienced it herself, though
she hadn't recognized it until discussing it with Natasha, when his essence had flooded her
womb that fateful night on Krakoa. A complete rewiring of her being, a biological imperative
that transcended conscious thought.
She'd observed identical changes in Jean, Storm, and Natasha—a profound deepening of
connection, an irresistible need to remain in his orbit, to return to him repeatedly, to circle him
like celestial bodies around their life-giving star. His genetic material didn't merely create
offspring; it forged unbreakable, eternal bonds. Not for domination or control—Peter would
sooner end his own life than become a tyrant. No, these bonds formed purely from love.
"Oh FUCK! I'm cumming again!" Felicia screamed from the screen, her entire body convulsing
violently as Peter maintained his merciless rhythm. "Peter! PETER! FUUUUUCK!"
"That's her fourth climax in twenty minutes," Natasha observed with clinical precision, though
her dilated pupils and rapid breathing betrayed her professional facade. "Most women would
have lost consciousness by now."
"He's scarcely begun," Emma replied with smug, knowing satisfaction. "When he claimed me
that first night on Krakoa, we coupled for nearly six consecutive hours. I couldn't properly walk
for two days afterward." She ran her pink tongue slowly across her lower lip, savoring the
delicious memory. "Worth every exquisite, delightful ache."
Soon, Felicia Hardy would feel it too—the inexorable pull toward Peter, the gravitational tug that
would draw her into his orbit like a comet captured by a star's overwhelming presence. The
Black Cat would be bred, just as they all had been, her womb filled with his essence, her biology
fundamentally altered to crave his touch, his presence, his very existence. She would become
another devoted member of their growing family, another vessel for his genetic legacy. The
thought sent a pulse of satisfaction through Emma that was almost sexual in its intensity, a
warm ripple that spread from her core outward, causing her diamond-hard nipples to push
against the silk of her blouse.
She raised her crystal flute of sparkling water in a silent, elegant toast, the bubbles catching the
light like tiny diamonds. This would teach the arrogant cat burglar her proper place in their
carefully curated collection of extraordinary women—not as competition to be eliminated, but
as another satellite revolving around the brilliant sun that was Peter Parker. Another mother to
his children, another fierce protector of his genetic legacy, another sister in their exclusive
sorority of the claimed.
None of them noticed the slender figure standing in the shadows of the dimly lit corridor
outside, watching them through the partially open door with an intensity that could have
burned through steel. Mary Jane Watson observed the scene with her emerald eyes filled with a
complex mixture of raw longing, jealousy, and steely determination, her fingers unconsciously
twisting the promise ring she still wore after all these years.
Mary Jane turns away silently, her auburn hair swinging across her shoulders as she retreats into
the darkness, her mind absolutely made up, her course irrevocably set. Whatever it takes, she
thinks, her painted nails digging crescents into her palms. Whatever it takes to reclaim her place
in his life, to feel his touch again, to be part of the family she should have never abandoned.
Whatever it takes to be Peter's again.