mobofair
patreon
Eight Legs For Three Ladies update
🕑 Added 2021-10-01 22:00:03 +0000 UTC“Oh fuck,” Gwen breathed, but if Mary Jane was trying to intimidate her, it didn’t work. Peter could feel all of her body pressed up against his and he didn’t sense any fear, any shame, any reluctance in all of her statuesque height. In fact, her grip tightened on him—her biting kisses got more torrid, closer to his mouth, until she was turning his head and sliding her tongue into his mouth right in front of MJ.
Peter felt a rush of anger—a kind of pleased anger—go through Mary Jane’s body, her sumptuous flesh wedded to his as closely as Gwen’s was. With a sniff of pouty disdain, she ripped open his shirt and kissed his bare chest as feverishly as Gwen was crushing her lips to his.
“Fuck him as much as you want,” MJ rasped hoarsely, voice thick with rivalry even as she and Gwen worked together to get all of Peter’s clothes off his body. “I’ll fuck him first. You can have what’s left.”
“I will have what’s left!” Gwen shot back, even though she had to rip her mouth away from Peter’s to say it. “I’ll have Peter after he’s done using you as his cheap little slut!”
“He’ll never be done using me! He’ll fuck me forever!”
“He’s never had me, you nasty bitch! He’s dying to be my first!”
“He’ll break you in ten seconds and come back to me!”
“I hope he does! I hope he wrecks my pussy! Want him to ruin me for other men!”
“And you called me a whore?”
“I am a whore! I’ll be his whore! He can use me whenever he wants!”
“He’ll be too busy fucking me!”
“Slut!”
“Prude!”
“BITCH!”
“HAG!”
“COW!”
Mary Jane took a deep breath, flushed and rattling with a kind of need, to rail against Gwen and hear the next demeaning insult she spat back. But before MJ could come up with yet another name to volley at Gwen, Peter seized her by the hips.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get off and it was pure luck that Mary Jane was closest, offering herself the most openly, craving the experience of being his. Maybe if he’d held out a half-second longer, it’d be Gwen instead—he’d be ripping her out of her clothes, ravaging her, taking her virginity like a prize to be won.
Instead, it was MJ. She knew what it was like to have him, but now, when she wasn’t ready for it, when she’d barely been thinking of him at all, it was like the first time all over again. She gritted her teeth as he pushed into her, too big but just right, pressing harder and harder to get more and more inside.
“Tiger!” she gasped through clenched teeth, her voice lovelorn, all thought of Gwen forgotten. If she thought at all, it was of Peter and of pleasure.
Peter wasn’t thinking any clearer than her. He grunted as he shoved his cock into place, inside her, where it belonged.
Mary Jane exhaled hard, rising to the balls of her feet, thrusting her chest out as she struggled to take him. Her back arched. Her legs stretched and toes spread. She shut her eyes tightly, then blinked them open, staring at Peter as if to reassure herself that he was the one doing this to her. That the man who made her come so hard was also the man she loved.
“Ah—no—never—never giving this up—oww—not—I’ll—not ever—oh—I—I…”
“So TIGHT!” Peter groaned, all but monosyllabic, all but a hiss of wordless breath.
Mary Jane threw her head back, lips wide. “Peter! PETER! Oh fuck, oh fuck, don’t… don’t let…”
She slumped, hanging bonelessly down to where Peter’s hands at her waist held her up. He lifted her from her limp feet and carried her to the nearest wall. Mary Jane gasped with relief and surprise and disbelieving pleasure as he pinned her against it, thrust into her, sending a new, staggering wave of pleasure through her much-strained body.
Sweat coated her naked flesh. Heat flushed her creamy skin. She looked like she had been fucked for hours, not seconds. Peter held her against the wall, withdrew and thrust into her, withdrew and thrust in, making Mary Jane squeal as she took a penetration her body couldn’t quite withstand, but that she needed.
Then Peter slowed, paused, came to his senses almost. He bowed his head to Mary Jane’s lowered face, her veil of crimson hair, and nudged his brow against hers. “Keep going?” he asked, barely managing to keep the plea out of his voice.
Mary Jane’s throat was too tight to speak. She nodded tightly, then her eyes flew back in her head with Peter’s next stroke into her depths. She was a piece of meat, hanging from Peter’s hold on her, gleefully being used by him. Her trilling voice began to babble nonsense, loving nonsense, as he force-fed her too much pleasure for Mary Jane to know what to do with. But her arms tightened around his bare back and her toes curled where her legs hung limply past his driving hips.
Gwen had watched in disbelief—in abject stupefaction—her eyes bulging and her breathing go from quick panting to a choked gasp and, finally, a low moan. She’d been outraged and she’d been shocked and now she was turned on, watching Mary Jane squealing with the sexual rapture that should’ve been hers. Should’ve been hers for months now. Peter and that bitch MJ had been holding out on her. They’d been doing this while she’d been sharing chocolate malts with Peter like he was goddamn Archie Andrews.
In a sudden fit of pique, Gwen marched up to the conjoined pair, battering themselves against the wall of the apartment, and tapped Peter viciously on the shoulder. “Excuse me! EXCUSE ME! Are you really going to fuck this… this redhead? Just fuck her and fuck her and fuck her until she can’t take anymore?”
“God, I hope so,” Mary Jane trilled dreamily, squeezing her thighs around Peter’s waist to spur him back inside her, deeper inside her, fucking a scandalized cry out of her while she kissed him.
“Pe-ter!” Gwen demanded, pulling at Peter’s hair now. He stopped kissing Mary Jane, his head drifting back, but his hips kept pumping between her open legs and the redhead kept cooing and sighing as his cock stretched out her undersized passage, again and again and again, returning it to being his cock holster. “Don’t you dare ignore me!”
Peter took hold of Mary Jane’s head, cradling her to his chest, muffling her cries in his firm pecs. But he kept fucking her. Mary Jane’s hands traipsed over his back and shoulders, giving evidence to her continuing delight in being used. “She’s my girlfriend, Gwen. She needs me to… y’know… be her boyfriend. I can’t—gghg—neglect—hooo—my responsibilities! HA!”
“Peter, Peter…” Mary Jane keened, rubbing her face into his chest, lovingly biting at a small nipple. Peter cursed at the minor pain and hoisted her up like she was no heavier than a woman’s purse, bracing her up high on the wall and fucking into her again. Mary Jane’s eyes rolled back in her head again. Her legs shot straight out in a vee past Peter’s waist, nearly hitting Gwen as the blonde jumped back.
When she landed on her heels, out of range of Mary Jane’s twitching feet, something felt different in Gwen. She wasn’t angry. Nor was she shocked. She felt hot, more than anything else. As sweaty as Peter and Mary Jane were as they rutted away in front of her, flushed and burning and looking ready to explode.
“You can’t neglect me either,” Gwen said, struggling out of her black blouse and unzipping her purple skirt, then her bra, then her panties—determined to have nothing more on than her knee-high boots. “You’re dating me too, Peter! I’m your girlfriend too! And you’re going to treat me just as good as you treat her! Starting right now!”
That was the start of the best sex Peter had ever had, maybe would ever have. If it got much better, he didn’t know if he’d survive it. And in as inauspicious a place as his lowly bachelor pad, with the refrigerator humming and the air conditioner rattling. It was a good thing he couldn’t hear the traffic over the din of his secondhand appliances, because he didn’t think he’d be able to hear this cacophony again without remembering these two luscious beauties, both aroused, both exquisitely built, both yearning for whatever pleasure he could give them. In height, in weight, in their smooth bodies and firm curves, they could’ve been sisters.
Peter didn’t know how he chose between them. Maybe it was just that he’d already started with Mary Jane and he couldn’t conceive of anything else but finishing what he’d begun. But he couldn’t keep looking away from Gwen, facing the wall, even if did hold Mary Jane’s lovely face, the jagged expressions of pleasure that rippled through her with his phallic thrusts.
So Peter bore MJ down to the ground and pumped into her wet cunt from above, crying out happily as he rammed home in her swollen tightness every bit as joyfully as he’d fucked her against the wall.
“Gotta come, Mary Jane! Nnngh! Gotta come for me!”
“Peter!” Mary Jane trilled, the squeaks and squawks of her unabashed pleasure making as much noise as the clicking ceiling fan. God, what an erotic racket. “So-close-I’m-so-close-I’m-so-close!”
If she could tell he wanted to finish her off so he could possess Gwen too, she showed no sign of it. Mary Jane couldn’t conceive of jealousy when she was already so well-fucked.
“Oh you fucker, oh you son of a bitch, fuck her, fuck her!” Gwen said, not sounding angry despite her words, but thrilled to see man and woman in coitus, a sort of foreplay, easing into her own sex by seeing what awaited her, how she’d be kissed and caressed when Peter was performing the act on her.
She rubbed her hand between her legs, either long practice or fantastic inspiration making it great for her while Peter and Mary Jane grunted and groaned, rutted and keened, sucked and stroked, like they were trying to overwhelm each other and not just greedily feed their own hunger. At the moment, the impulses were one in the same.
They were even managing to delight Gwen as she bore witness to how much a woman could be fucked. She’d judged Mary Jane too harshly—she hadn’t known that being a slut could bring such pleasure.
She couldn’t miss out any longer. Going without the voluptuous pleasure that she now saw before her was a bridge too far. She could see that with the two of them on the ground, Peter mounting Mary Jane, that his height pushed past hers, extended above her head. So Gwen seated herself next to Mary Jane’s flowing locks, where Peter’s face rose, and spread her legs. The back of Mary Jane’s scalp was now pillowed by Gwen’s soft thigh.
“I want you to lick this pussy.” Gwen rushed the words out, before she could reconsider, before she could make herself too proud to beg. “I want your tongue if she’s getting your cock!”
Peter growled deep in his throat—there wasn’t thought left, not even instinct, just pure, unrestrained hunger—and almost as soon as it’d been offered, he was devouring Gwen’s cunt while still slamming his manhood into Mary Jane’s writhing flesh.
The redhead crowed in protest, hating to see Gwen share in the bounty of her seduction—even if she couldn’t take him all, Peter was still hers, and she loved the thought of being overwhelmed by him far more than the thought of needing Gwen to handle him. But there was nothing she could do about it that the moment, held down by Peter’s weight and driven to ecstasy by his continuous, pistoning strokes. She couldn’t even care, really, only note distantly her initial reaction as it gave way to more pleasure, more orgasms, more of Peter.
She’d been fucked before, fucked pretty good even, but never like Peter did. Peter had it all: body, speed, endurance, enthusiasm, skill, and most of all, a cock that could simply bludgeon her into rapture even if he didn’t turn her on so much.
Soon, she’d forgotten about Gwen completely, instead thinking only of the crazed friction of his cock going deep and wild in her sex. She humped and panted and cried out like she was the virgin, all these sensations brand new, all her supple body being tested for the first time.
Gwen heard the meaty smack of Peter’s massive cock being hilted in MJ’s sheath, she saw sprawled out Mary Jane being driven mad with the demands Peter placed on her senses, quivering with the sensations that were having their way with her… and while the blonde played the voyeur, she also enjoyed Peter’s hot tongue, his delighting mouth on her pussy. It was a feast for her lusts, obscene pornography both being displayed to her and sucking her in. She was being lifted to the heights of rapture while watching almost the same thing being done to Mary Jane’s perfect, luscious body.
“Oh, it’s—t-too MUUUUCH!” she cried.
Comments
Shendude
Spectacular!
