Forsake Your Vows 5

“Wanna play around?” Mary Jane asked Peter when he got back.

She laid naked in bed, the sheet pulled over her bare skin. She pulled it down almost to her nipples, letting him see that she didn’t have on any nightgown, any pajamas, to get in the way.

“With you? Always,” Peter said, taking his mask off and leaning down to kiss her, but slowly, gently, running the tip of his nose from her earlobe to her cheek before their lips touched.

“With my pussy,” Mary Jane corrected. She rolled onto her side to face him and lifted her upper leg into the air. “Play with my pussy.”

“Why? Is it not wet enough?” Peter asked, sliding his hand down the pillar of her sculpt-muscled leg to feel her groin.

“No,” Mary Jane answered coquettishly.

Experimentally Peter inserted a probing finger into her slit. “You feel wet enough,” Peter corrected her. “I know what to do about that…”

Mary Jane quickly reached out, plucking the join between the top of his costume and the bottom. She pulled his pants down under his stiffening prick. Peter froze, wondering what she was doing. He looked down at her slender hand as she began languidly jerking him off.

“You play with me and I’ll play with you,” Mary Jane said.

Peter’s look became quizzical. “I don’t need any playing with,” he told her. “Now come on, who knows how long we’ve got before Annie’s awake.”

Peter’d been in a good mood all day, all up until he’d gone off with Felicia to patrol the city. Mary Jane thought this was a good time for something new. He wasn’t taking the hint, but Peter was still in a good mood. She kept rubbing him.

“But doesn’t this feel good?” Mary Jane insisted.

“Not half as good as it could feel,” Peter retorted. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you want to fuck?”

“Of course I do, tiger, but we can do it a little differently, huh?” She tickled his balls. “Not just the same routine?”

“What’s wrong with the same routine?” Peter replied, perplexed. “Doesn’t it do it for you?”

“I know it does it for you,” Mary Jane simpered, trying to appeal to him. “But don’t you ever want to just play around? Experiment?”

“I think by now we know what works for us. But if you want to mix it up a bit, that’s fine. Get on your hands and knees.”

Mary Jane figured that was as good as she was going to get from him. And who knew? Maybe that would be enough to overcome her malaise. “Okay, Peter.”

Peter chuckled and shook his head, clearly relieved that the issue had been put to bed and they could move on. He got up onto his knees and Mary Jane rolled onto her stomach, then put her knees and elbows under her to lift her hips up to Peter.

Well, I tried, Mary Jane thought to herself. Had she really expected it to work? If she had, she thought she would be feeling more disappointment. At least she’d gotten Peter to make an effort.

Maybe she was greedy, wanting more than Peter felt able to give her. She didn’t know. But dammit, wouldn’t he enjoy doing something a little kinky, maybe taking a little more time to feel and caress her body, indulging in his fantasies and knowing he’d indulged hers? She wasn’t the only one missing out; Peter was too. Couldn’t she open his eyes to that?

Peter’s hands fixed onto her slender hips, his touch at first a sampling caress, but then Mary Jane realized he only intended to hold her in place as he fucked her. He pulled her back, onto the rigid length of his manhood, and she heard his deep, savoring breath as he enjoyed her tightness. Mary Jane knew he appreciated her body, but there had to be a way for him to further delight in it. She just knew there could be more to it than this!

Still, she moaned a sincere reply, taking his sizable member into her warm, ready depths. Her body undulated with her own lust, rubbing the fine cushioning of her ass against the bristling hairs of his pelvis and the chiseled muscle underneath his pelt.

“Now, that doesn’t feel like a bored woman to me,” Peter said, and Mary Jane could imagine the big grin he’d be wearing.

“It isn’t,” Mary Jane allowed. She was getting turned on. She might even come. But afterward, the recriminations would come.

She’d never been a woman who felt guilty about sex, but when she could’ve talked things out with Peter and had failed to—resorting again to safe, comfortable routine, no matter how unsatisfying—she felt six inches tall.

Mary Jane didn’t want to think about that. She was going to enjoy herself as much as she was able.

Peter pumped into her, his eager thrusts hinting at the vast power lurking in his slender body. Mary Jane banged her head against the mattress and pushed back against his strokes. She wasn’t just trying to burn off the restless energy of a good fuck. She was impatient, angrily feeling how out of sync she was with Peter. The sex taking too long to get started and now Peter would rush through the heights she enjoyed most to quickly get to the orgasm he assumed ignorantly that she’d share.

“It’s getting good now,” she said in a thickening voice, trying to hint to Peter to slow down and keep her here. “It’s so nice when it’s like this!”

“I know, baby, we’re almost there!”

Mary Jane thrashed and writhed, determined to milk every moment she got of this all too narrow, constrictive sex. At least they weren’t doing it under the sheets; she’d cured Peter of that shyness. She supposed she could bring them around to broach other subjects of erotic potential as well—if they weren’t grandparents by then.

Finally, she clasped her hands to the headboard and lowered her cheek to the bedspread and settled in that position, letting Peter pump away into her from behind. There were no surprises to it; she might as well have been masturbating and with her left hand. But no, it was Peter that was doing that. She felt like he was simply getting himself off with her pussy.

Mary Jane couldn’t be sincerely bitter, not when he had the staying power to make her come while he was indulging himself, but it still felt like such a waste. She wondered if Felicia would settle for a fuck like this…

“Mmmm, I’m feeling it, tiger!” Mary Jane moaned, trying to encourage Peter with a sop to his ego. But the way he huffed in reply told her he was ready to wrap it up. She stretched out and dug her elbows in, bracing herself for the final frenzy of his ejaculation.

Peter punched harder into her, frantic himself for the ending. A finale of quick, potent drives and he was through, bringing Mary Jane with him into climax.

Peter sidled next to her on his back, exhaling heavily as he wiggled into the bedspread, and it was done. Mary Jane felt the heat fade from her cunt—a heat that could’ve easily been an inferno, would’ve been one when they were younger—and wondered what it would take in order to have a happy marriage.

***

“You sure you’re stretching right?”

In the aftermath of her cowardice with Peter—an almost oracular telling that she wouldn’t be able to summon up the courage to heartfully discuss her issues with him, that she would settle for what she could get uncomplainingly—Mary Jane threw herself into her training with Eddie.

His eyes didn’t grow bored of her and always MJ was aware that she was looking better and better. Her exercises leaving less and less fat for her skintight leggings to grip, more and more marble muscle.

Still, she didn’t want to let her appreciation of Eddie’s gaze lead her to taking his shit when she was already getting Peter’s. “I’m fine, Ed. I’ve been working out since before I was old enough to drive.”

“You get older, joints get more stingy, not less. How sore are you after we train?”

Mary Jane bit the inside of her cheek, feeling an absurd reluctance to answer. That was another reason she hadn’t begrudged Peter too much the unsatisfying sex. She was a little worried her body couldn’t handle the strain of both training and the sexual Olympics she almost wanted from him.

Eddie didn’t drag it out of her, but clearly by now he knew her well enough to see that he’d made his point. “Lie down on your back. Face me.”

Mary Jane did as she was instructed, wondering if Eddie knew how lucky he was to have her following his orders. A lot of guys would’ve killed for that. But Peter was the only one she’d listen to—not that he appreciated the obeisance she showed him…

Mary Jane firmly pressed herself into the ground. She couldn’t let that stewing bitterness distract her now; these training sessions with Eddie were the one thing going absolutely right in her life. She was in control here. She wouldn’t ruin that by letting her head get away from her.

Eddie knelt at her feet, almost courtly in his approach, and took her right leg in hand. Mary Jane was familiar with this stretch from exercising with Peter; it was perfectly innocent, but still, it’d been years since anyone but Peter had laid hands on her in this manner.

Eddie held down her left leg and brought her right up into the air, as if erecting an icon of worship. Long and limber, every inch of her upthrust leg was expertly engraved with elegant muscle. Moving gently, with the upmost care, Eddie forced her leg towards her head. MJ moaned as the tension built, working kinks out of her body with delicious little snaps, while also pushing her flexibility to the limit.

Eddie painstakingly brought her leg up, then rotated it, taking it through its full range of motion to ensure every tendon had been used to its fullest. Then he switched to her other leg and all Mary Jane could think, while her right leg laid trembling on the ground, was how nice and loose and at-ease it felt. The muscle fine and responsive—a microcosm of how perfectly undone she thought she’d feel after the good fuck that Peter kept denying her.

Eddie put her left leg through its paces, the process fraught with Mary Jane’s awareness of the strength he possessed, but cooler and calmer now. She knew her leg would end up rejuvenated to the state her other leg was now in, thanks to him.