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Ending At Beginnings: Risk It
🕑 Added 2020-05-02 15:00:03 +0000 UTC
Mary Jane stepped under the spray of water. It covered her naked body instantly, darkening her crimson hair to blood-red, forming reflecting pools all along her creamy flesh. Every curve was emphasized and accentuated by the radiance of splashing water rebounding from her pale skin. Peter was stunned by the sight, almost drooling as he watched Mary Jane pick up a bar of soap from its dish among the shampoo bottles and body wash.
Mary Jane giggled, her adorable expression another shock to Peter’s system. “I’ll take that as a yes?” she cooed, thankfully finding Peter’s slack-jawed face endearing rather than mortifying.
Peter himself felt half-mortified. They’d known each other for years. He should be used to the sight of her naked body—and she’d certainly worn things a lot kinkier than tap water in the bedroom. But there were some things you just couldn’t get used to.
“You look like you’re feeling dirty, Pete,” Mary Jane said impishly. She reached for Peter’s erection with her free hand. Though Peter was almost at social distancing length, he was long enough for MJ to get a hold on him and pull him into the shower. “Let me take care of that.”
She soaped his manhood and his balls, working up a lather against his treasure trail. The feeling of the soap wasn’t half as good as Mary Jane’s hands and the feeling of it moving against his cock was too strange to be really pleasurable, but Peter supposed that in his current condition, if MJ started giving him a handjob, he’d just shoot his cum all over her. Hardly an auspicious start to their lives as parents.
Mary Jane left his prick covered in suds, handing him the soap and then using her bare hands to caress his cock and balls, as if working the soap bubbles into his sweaty flesh. Precum ran freely from his cockhead, adding to the swirl of water and soap twisting down the drain, with its faint but pungent scent clear amid the miasma of soapy freshness and shampoo sweetness.
“Your turn,” MJ cooed, holding the bar of soap in Peter’s palm long enough for him to overcome his numbness and wrap his fingers about it. Her voice trilled with irony. “Clean me off, Peter. I know you don’t want to fuck a girl who’s all dirty…”
Peter ran the soap all over Mary Jane’s silky smooth body, rubbing it against her bare breasts, her slender waist, her firm thighs. He soaped her pussy last, getting an approving moan from MJ as he rubbed in slow circles over her mons.
“There. Clean as a whistle,” Peter said, making Mary Jane simper by sliding the edge of the soap bar against her hooded clitoris. “How long do you think it’s going to stay that way?”
“As long as it ever does.” Mary Jane pulled at his cock hard enough to get it out in the open, under the shower spray, so that every caress forced some of the soap suds off into the flow of water. Peter guessed that being penetrated by a dick covered in soap was taking hygiene too far for her. “God, Peter, your cock’s really throbbing hard. Feels like if I hold onto it too tight, you might break my fingers!”
“That’s not what I’m going to break,” Peter teased, pulling the naked woman to his body.
He wrapped his arms against her, his hard cock pressed against her shaved pussy, then dug his fingers into her firm ass and picked her up.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been fucked in a shower,” Mary Jane purred, wrapping her supple arms around Peter’s neck. She locked her thighs around his waist as well, holding herself in place while Peter moved his hands to her hips and forced them down. Her cunt was lowered onto his standing prick. “I’m so glad we got back together!” she added breathily, eyes crossing as her own weight took him so, so deep into her.
Wiggling slowly, she descended down Peter’s throbbing length, taking him all the way into her sex with a series of vocal moans accompanying each inch. Once she had him hilted in her tight cunt, she hooked her heels behind his back and started grinding her body against his.
“Careful,” Peter told her, bracing her against a glass wall of the shower to stabilize Mary Jane as she did her gyrations. Though he was still strong, he didn’t have the proportionate spider-strength that would’ve made holding her up an effortless act, or a spider-sense to warn him he was about to fall and break his neck. He braced his feet wide apart on the bottom of the shower stall. “I won’t be a very good father figure if I slip and break my back.”
“I’d still take you over half the Avengers,” Mary Jane retorted. “And all of the West Coast Avengers.”
Peter winced. “Harsh, MJ.”
The spray of warm water washed over them, pulling away their sweat as quickly as they shed it, and they ground their naked flesh together until both of them were panting for breath. Mary Jane couldn’t recall her pussy ever having taxed Peter’s stamina before. She found it pretty gratifying. As much as she’d miss fucking Spider-Man, she’d get a hell of a kick out of doing it with Peter Parker.
Faster and faster, Mary Jane worked her hips against Peter’s groin. She moaned every time she took his cock into her hot pussy, stabs of heat going deep into her body and putting the near-boiling shower water to shame. Soon, she was trembling so much she could barely hang onto Peter. He put his hands on her chest, pushing her against the glass to hold her in place.
“Ohhhh shit!” Mary Jane gasped, driving her cunt onto Peter’s twitching prick and, when she withdrew, smacking her ass against the glass wall. “You may not have the power, but you sure have the will! Uhh! Ohh! So many of my boyfriends would’ve shot their load by now!”
“How many boyfriends exactly?” Peter teased, his own voice shaking as he tried to hold back his enjoyment. It wasn’t easy—years of experience had MJ practically jacking him off with her pussy.
The redhead only grinned. “Make me forget all about them, tiger.”
In one fluid movement, Peter swept the assorted bric-a-brac off the shower’s ledge and dropped Mary Jane’s ass down onto it. With her sitting there, him between her spread legs, he hammered himself into her dripping cunt again and again.
Mary Jane slapped her hands against the sides of the stall, kicked her feet out past Peter to brace on the opposite wall, and so she just barely had enough support to jerk her hips against Peter’s as he rammed into her. She shuddered with the feeling of her wet pussy sucking at his manhood, her groin pressing tightly to his every time he fed himself into her.
“Oh fuck!” Mary Jane cried hoarsely, her grips slipping instantly, leaving her writhing frantically to maintain her position. Peter didn’t care, only holding her hips in place, kissing her throat as his prick crashed into her depths. “Oh God, my cunt’s throbbing so hard! More, more! Fuck my brains out, Peter! Gggh! It’s so good, so fucking good having you inside me!”
It took all of Peter’s lessened strength to keep hold of Mary Jane’s slippery flesh, but it was worth it. She was worth it. She pumped her body against his in a frenzy of growing need, her cunt sucking its way to the base of his cock, demanding the cum from his bloated balls.
She let go of the walls, clutching at his neck, gripping his hair, hanging onto Peter for dear life as she took all of his cock into her gaping sex. She could feel the engorged knob painfully deep inside her, his thick shaft forcing the tight folds of her cunt from their normal shape, and she knew that soon, her womb would be inundated with his seed.
“Make me come, Peter!” she trilled. “Get me off! I could never forget a fuck like this—and I never wanna forget the day you gave me a child—fucking bred me!”
Peter groaned, his hot breath throwing the rain of shower water away from his mouth. Mary Jane thought she felt his manhood swelling even more, filling her pussy almost beyond its capacity. The throbbing of his prick inside her tightly clinging walls told her he was ready to come—and even though it was Peter, there was no hesitance, no second thoughts. He was prepared to father a child with her.
With that thought in her head, Mary Jane came first. Her body arched, shuddering, and her face turned up to the showerhead. The blitz of water filled her mouth, quickly gagging the cry she was trying to let out as she shook.
Then there was a hot gush of liquid in her sex. The spasms of Peter’s shooting prick added to her ecstasy, giving Mary Jane what felt like another orgasm right on the heels of her first. Her eyes rolled back in her head—she felt faint—but she couldn’t possibly lose consciousness with the burning pleasure of Peter’s cum pouring into her, the feeling of heat and fullness and completion slicing through all her other sensations. Sex was sex and she was a girl who always liked it, but this felt like more—as good as it had been during their engagement, on their honeymoon—she felt like she was doing something she was meant for, her soul fulfilled as her body was satisfied.
She felt Peter’s lips at her ear. “I’m ready to be the father of your child.”
Mary Jane swooned. Any misgivings she had could wait—they couldn’t make their way through the warm glow suffusing her body. “You still fuck like a superhero, Mr. Parker. Now carry me to bed. You can pass on getting it up again, so long as you cuddle me for an hour or so.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Peter asked.
“Oh?” Mary Jane returned, eyebrow raised. She wondered what hard bargain her tiger was going to drive. Fucking her in the ass? Sucking him off? She’d been cream-pied enough for one day—if Peter wanted to name the tune, let him.
“Yeah. We didn’t shampoo.”
***
An hour, Peter pulled himself out of bed in response to the buzzer ringing. Pulling on his pants and shrugging on his shirt, he hit the button, then worked on his fly, buttons, and other nonessentials. “Yeah?”
“Delivery for Mary Jane Watson?”
Peter glanced back to the bedroom, where Mary Jane’s painted toenails could be seen through the open door. “Yeah, that’s for me.”
Peter turned back to the buzzer. “Come on up.” He released the button and looked back into the bedroom. “Didn’t know you did online shopping. Have you finally arrived?”
“I didn’t want to miss out on being part of the Parker puddle. Anyway, what did you think I was doing on my phone while you were nuzzling me like a lost kitten?”
“Sharing memes about how much you love your boyfriend,” Peter replied, deadpan. “What’d you order?”
The door shook with a knock. Peter raised an eyebrow—fast trip up the stairs. But maybe he had a skewed view of such things. He opened the door, signed for it, thanked the deliveryman, and brought the sealed plastic bag to the kitchen. There, Mary Jane had hauled herself up, still in one of his shirts and purple panties that could only look more impressive if she were wearing the other half of the set. Gwen had also come out of her room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Peter set the bag on the kitchen.
“Your order, madam,” he said.
“What’d you get?” Gwen asked, sitting down.
“A present,” MJ said mischievously, opening it up. “Just a little something to help make you a little more unrecognizable.” She reached into the bag and brought out a bottle of hair dye. “Ta-da!”
“Hair dye?” Peter asked. “You don’t have that on hand? Isn’t it, like, a regular make-up… thing?”
Mary Jane smiled at him, in the slightly condescending way of a woman taking a man’s ignorance of feminine affairs as acknowledgment of her supremacy there. “You really think I keep hair dye lying around? Me? I’m going to be a redhead until the day I die, tiger.” She glanced at Gwen. “But you… we need to step back from the Goldilocks look with the hairband. It’s memorable.”
“I don’t wear it that much,” Gwen said, taking off her hairband and looking at it. “Do I?”
Mary Jane spun the bottle of hair dye so the label faced Gwen. “Here. Ravish-Me Red. I’ve always thought you looked a little like Emma Stone, and she looks great as a redhead, so you can be a ginger too. We can tell people we met at a convention or something.”
“What about black hair?” Gwen reached into the bag, sensing it wasn’t empty, and found that MJ had provided her with options. Another bottle of dye would turn her hair as dark as any little black dress. “I’ve always wanted to go a little bit goth. And I am dead here. Makes a kind of sense.”
“Maybe you could just get a haircut,” Peter suggested.
Mary Jane held up a hand. “Peter, please, I know you’re a feminist, but let’s not pretend short hair looks good on a woman. Audrey Hepburn pulled it off, sure, but who wants to fuck her?”
“Maybe I don’t want to be… effed,” Gwen said. “Maybe I wanna… you know… belong to someone?”
Mary Jane reached across the table to take Gwen’s hand. “Hair first. Then let’s worry about your love life.” She refocused her attention on Peter. “Tiger, you’re the man of the house. How about being the tiebreaker?”
“Me? Seriously?”
“You have a pretty good eye for hot chicks. Black Cat, Ms. Marvel, yours truly—let’s see if we can reverse-engineer that.”
“Yes, Peter,” Gwen nodded enthusiastically. “Tell me what to do.”
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