I Was A Teenage Swinger

Mary Jane got why Gwen had invited her over right alongside Peter. The room was as plushly furnished as could be. Red velvet drapes cascade down from polished brass rods over the windows. A brilliant Persian rug brocaded the floor. The bed was big, wooden, and had a canopy over it that gleamed with paste diamonds. It was gorgeous. But Mary Jane knew men weren’t interested in rooms.

“Nice record player,” she said, cutting a beeline to the hi-fi. “Let’s see if there’s anything worth dancing to in your collection!”

“Peter isn’t here yet,” Gwen said, since he’d once more been held up by one of his little emergencies. That was alright. Mary Jane knew no man could keep away from the two of them for long.

“That’s okay,” Mary Jane said cheerily. She didn’t even have to look at Gwen to know the snooty look she’d get—she focused on flipping through records instead. “You can always watch. I know all this conspicuous consumption was your way of scaring me off Peter. And if we were going to bid on him at an auction, I suppose you’d win. But since we’re not, I suppose I should give you the same headsup and show you why the tiger’s going to end up in my den.”

She picked up a record popular enough that even Gwen listened to it. Started the player spinning and notched the platter on and dug the record needle into it. The speakers crackled with the unvoiced static that was about to become a song. And Mary Jane took her blouse off.

“What are you doing?” Gwen demanded.

“What’s the matter, Gwendoline?” Mary Jane smirked, unwrapping her skirt next. “Seeing a little something money can’t buy? Get the lights.”

“Put your clothes back on!”

“Get the lights,” MJ enunciated, and Gwen dutifully snapped them off.

Mary Jane stood in the light from the window, a glaring spotlight just on her, and as the music began, she arched and twisted and grinded like she was on stage. The raucous blast of a baritone sax was like a puppeteer manipulating her every wanton move, making every bump and thrust into an explosion.

Gwen couldn’t take her eyes off MJ. Just like anyone else, male or female. And especially Peter Parker.

Maybe only catching the tail-end of my show will teach him to be a bit more punctual, Mary Jane thought to herself. Then again, even a tiger would have to be satisfied with my tail…

She waved her hands high above her head, fingers describing spirals as detailed as the little shakes and undulations her body went through. Breasts pushed forward, stomach pulled in, her curvaceous ass jiggling behind her. She strutted across the room like a peacock, displaying the simple beauty of her near-naked body in motion.

Gwen dropped the glass she’d been holding. She didn’t notice it hit the carpet.

Mary Jane threw her head back, arched her spine, shot her breasts high up onto her chest and let out a scream with the singer on the album. Then she started circling her breasts, two full hills jiggling and bouncing around and around and around and around.

“I…” Gwen began to say. “I…”

Mary Jane gave her a dirty smile and Gwen shut up. MJ went back to work.

Again she screamed, now wrenching her legs far apart and bending her knees just enough to jostle her up and down. The ruffles on her panties swung around madly with her movement. Gwen’s approval was evident in how much her breasts heaved with each thick breath.

MJ stopped rolling her breasts and straightened. She mounted the bed, shaking her shoulders a little—only enough to make sure Gwen’s eyes weren’t going anywhere. She grinned magnanimously. She wanted Gwen to know how much she liked being watched.

Mary Jane put both hands on her hips and hunched her shoulders forward and bent. Her full breasts pressed hard into the gleaming blue fabric that held them. She felt the strain of their weight as she let Gwen look down her bra, seeing everything but her nipples. Then Mary Jane stood erect and canted her hips, her groin thrust out, showing Gwen how the gusset of her panties pulled tight to her mound and showed every detail but the color of her pubic hair. And Gwen could surely guess that.

The blonde’s jaw was down around her ankles. Mary Jane had proved her point, but she wanted to keep going—push it until it was like she was getting off on Gwen’s attention. And if Gwen was still watching at that point, well… maybe she’d move from the rival column to the fun column.

Hunched over like some primitive she-creature, Mary Jane swayed her breasts at Gwen. Her hands moved off of her hips and she spread her fingers out. Her breasts shimmied hypnotically for the blonde, her shoulders shaking and gyrating to keep them in enthralling motion. Gwen was letting out some kind of strangled cry, but Mary Jane really couldn’t care less what she was trying to say. She knew she’d kindled as much heat inside of Gwen as she’d ever given a man.

Mary Jane blew a kiss at the blonde as she continued rolling her breasts, directing all the grandeur of her Amazonian body at her fellow female. It was starting to look like Peter would really be missing out by running late—but neither Gwen nor MJ would be.

The sharp cracking of drum rim-shots snapped Mary Jane into an awareness that the song was coming to an end. She pulled her shoulders back, came erect with a sweep of her hair, then strutted and posed her way across the bed to jump down in front of Gwen. The drummer on the album went into a furious single stroke roll, crashing into the cymbal a few times before the band struck its last chord. And as a big finish, Mary Jane grabbed hold of Gwen and pulled her against the bare flesh she’d been lusting after for the last several minutes.

“Please, hold your applause,” Mary Jane breathed in Gwen’s face. “I can think of so many other ways you can show me your appreciation…”

Gwen came back to herself like she’d just been splashed with cold water. The innuendo in Mary Jane’s voice was impossible to ignore.

Her first impulse was to run screaming from the room. But every second she spent in Mary Jane’s embrace felt like an hour of convincing rhetoric, persuading her that she could not pass up the soft beauty of Mary Jane’s body.

“I thought you were into Peter?” Gwen asked.

“Peter’s not exactly available at the moment, is he?” MJ cooed. “I won’t tell him we’ve kissed and made up if you don’t…”

“I’m not a lesbian!”

“Well, can you let me be one for a couple minutes? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Some strange impulse made Gwen reach out and touch Mary Jane’s shoulder. She felt warm, soft. Gwen’s hand traveled down MJ’s back.

“No wonder you’ve just about been able to hold Peter’s attention! That feels amazing,” Mary Jane said, smiling so lusciously that Gwen was sure she felt as good, having that grin directed her way… “Put your hand on my ass now—yesss, just like that, give it a squeeze, baby, you might as well. I’m about to squeeze yours!”

Gwen slid her hands down Mary Jane’s lissome body until they were curving around Mary Jane’s full hips, finding luscious, toned flesh under her panties. She hoped Mary Jane felt anything like the warm tingle that ran through Gwen as she molded all that lush curvature in her hands.

Mary Jane bit her lip in enjoyment of Gwen’s efforts. “Even better than it looks, right? That’s why I won’t take it personally that you didn’t beg for an encore. Now turn around and let me have a feel. Quick, now—maybe I won’t give you a spanking if you’re a good, obedient girl…”

Gwen spun around, helpless not to moan as Mary Jane took two big handfuls of what she had under her purple skirt.

“Oh God, I feel like slapping you. If you were a boy, I’d slap you…”

“Could you choke me instead?”

“Oh shit, shit—” Gwen breathed, and threw herself onto the bed. At first she was on all fours, then she turned onto her back, then she flipped over onto her belly—not sure what to present that Mary Jane wanted.

“What are you doing?” Mary Jane asked, crossing her arms in an awful dignified way for someone in a bra and panties.

“Taking you to bed…?” Gwen said questioningly.

“I can’t let you take me to bed; I’d get a reputation.” Mary Jane offered Gwen her hand. “Get up. I know the perfect place to fuck that headband right off you.”

Gwen touched her headband self-consciously. “I… I thought I’d leave it on.”