Can't Hold Back

Shimmering folds of jade green silk, sleek and luscious, caressed the summer-freckled warmth of a statuesque goddess stretched languorously on the bed. Coyly, she shifted one rounded hip. She drew up her knee to a bend, toes pointed to tighten her shapely calf and toned thigh. Then Mary Jane stretched that leg out and swished her other long leg over it, just enough to partially shield her crotch from Peter’s view. Her languor, her feline sensuality in every motion, was designed to draw every bit of his focus to the treasure she only almost concealed.

It worked. Fire scorched Peter’s eyes as well as the titillating degree of near nakedness that Mary Jane employed. For she was wearing something, even if it covered about as much as a mirage might.

Lacy white panties that caressed the top of her buttocks and delved into her cleft rather than expend their energy in covering the whole of her cheeks or anything more than the roundness of her pubic mound. A spaghetti-strapped garter belt that held up white stockings as insubstantial as an opium dream. And a bra that looked, more than anything else, like white frosting decorating the succulence of her breasts. The cups a fine mesh that only tinted the rich flesh underneath. It was lingerie designed not to conceal, but to accentuate all the most luscious qualities of the wearer. And Mary Jane had plenty for it to show off.

“Emma Frost,” Mary Jane breathed.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked, not sure he’d heard right. He’d gotten a call from Mary Jane that something had happened to his costume in the wash and he’d rushed home to see what the damage was, only to find Mary Jane naming the X-Men’s bitch goddess to him. “Is this how you’re making up for the laundry?”

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “Your costume’s fine, Peter. I called you here to celebrate. Emma Frost is launching a new line of lingerie and I’m the cover model.”

“You’re not very covered,” Peter observed.

“If you like, I can tell them I changed my mind, but they’ll probably want the samples back…”

“That’s—no, I mean—we need the money,” he stammered. “We do, right? As a rule?”

“We need a lot of things,” Mary Jane said. The pink tip of her tongue snaked enticingly over ruby-red lips. A shivery tingle shook its way through her tall, slender body. Mary Jane bit her lip as her nipples became obtrusive, their hardness more-than-visible through the lace. It turned her on to be wearing this. It turned her on even more for Peter to see her in it.

Peter’s jaw felt like it was connected to his cock. As his erection rose, his teeth clenched together tighter and tighter, the muscles taut all along his jaw. His balls were bloated. His cock pounded like a jackhammer. It felt so prominent and visible that Peter was sure it could be seen from space, and even though he knew that was the effect Mary Jane had hoped to have on him, he was still embarrassed by it.

He willed his prick to shrink, soften. It swelled. Got harder. So much blood was rushing to Peter’s groin that he felt lightheaded. He had to get rid of his hard-on somehow and Peter knew the only way was for him to empty his balls.

“Are you going to do something about that or should I?” Mary Jane asked. “Because I think you should.”

“I should?” Peter repeated dumbly.

“You think putting on a show like this doesn’t take any work? Not all of us got bitten by a radioactive spider that gave us abs, tiger. And since you clearly enjoy the view, why don’t you give me one?”

“You don’t think your boss might have something to say about… the conclusion of the show?”

“Actually, she said that if I didn’t come back to her with my bra and panties covered in cum, that she was going back to the drawing board.” Mary Jane wagged her eyebrows. “I think she was joking. But this is my personal sample to keep. I can wash it off, but I can’t put it back together after you rip it off my body.” She smiled sinisterly. “And the only way I’m taking it off is if it’s… you know.”

“I can open a bra myself, you know.”

“I know. Just like you can pull down a set of panties. But if you put one stitch out of line, I’m going to go catch up on Grey’s Anatomy instead.”

“What is with you?” Peter asked, wondering if Emma hadn’t given Mary Jane a little mental nudge.

“Nothing. I just already know how much you like my naked body, inside and out. I want you to show me how much you like the lingerie. And besides, I hear it’s good for the skin.”

Peter always felt embarrassed when he jerked off. He was a happily married man. Mary Jane was sexy as hell, appreciative of all his sensual efforts, and they only had so much time together as it was. He wasn’t such a satyr that he had to jack it on top of that. But this seemed to be what MJ wanted. And he couldn’t say it’d be the first time he’d whacked off with the thought of Mary Jane in his mind.

He reached down and cupped his bulging crotch. His prick flexed and flared, bucking like a wild horse, demanding out of his imprisoning fly. Peter rubbed the bulge and grimaced at the fiery sensation shooting through him. Visions danced of his mind of Mary Jane in the throes of ecstasy.

Then he looked at Mary Jane and was blown away by the real thing, avidly watching his activities, clearly aroused. On all fours, she wagged her hips in the air, sending a shimmering undulation through all of her curvy body. Peter wanted to jump right on top of her, but he had the next best thing. He opened his fly and his cock came flying out like a maddened bull into a rodeo.

Peter gritted his teeth. He took hold of his thick shaft.

“How’s it feel, Peter?” Mary Jane trilled. “Nice and hot? Mmmmm… it’s always so hot when it goes into me. Like a poker in a fireplace. Good thing my pussy is the same temperature. Show me your balls too.”

Peter lifted his cock, as if judging the weight, then he reached down with his other hand and hauled his scrotum past the teeth of his open fly, freeing all of his manhood. He rubbed his balls, feeling the sizable amount of cum sloshing inside them, aching now with the lust he felt.

His hand stroked upward. He switched his thumb back and forth on the glans, where his cockhead flared out from his shaft, and he rubbed the darkly pulsing vein that seamed the length of his manhood.

“I like doing that with my tongue,” Mary Jane purred. “Making your whole cock shake… better grip that thing tight… I know how much it can move around…”

Peter rolled his fingers into a fist that he moved lightly up and down his endowment. He groaned and grimaced. His breath came from his flaring nostrils like steam from a venting pipe. His cock throbbed powerfully.

He closed his fist tighter around his manhood, pumped it harder and with greater speed. His foreskin slid over the slopes of his bellend as his hand skimmed upward, then was dragged back off it as he lowered his hand to his balls. Skinning his knob into a bared, glowing ember of hot masculinity.

“Is that how tight my cunt is?” Mary Jane asked. “When you’re going in and out of me, does it feel like that? I’m not just asking…” She reached out and cupped his balls in her hand. “I really wanna know how it feels.”

His hips ground and corkscrewed, rutting even if all he had to fuck was his own fist. A dribble of precum ran from his glanshole and traced sluggishly between the knuckles of his stroking fist. It stroked faster with the creamy lubrication.

“Yeah, fuck me, Peter,” Mary Jane cooed, putting Peter under in a wild wet dream. “Use that cock on this sweet little pussy.”

Peter closed his eyes. Even the image of Mary Jane in that sensual lingerie couldn’t compare with his memory of her naked, receiving his cock, her face lit up with pleasure. He imagined her voluptuous lips and flashing tongue and rasped: “Take it, MJ… take…”

Mary Jane moaned at his fervent arousal, taking one hand and leading it down her flank to her almost entirely naked ass. Pushing down on her enthusiastically rounded flesh as she wiggled her wet pussy against the mattress, rubbing herself into it, getting a little charge of physical pleasure to go with how much she enjoyed watching Peter stroke it. “Yeah, grind that fucker, Pete…”

Peter’s whole body started quivering, the thrill building up right where Mary Jane held him. He had a thousand memories of Mary Jane’s pert young breasts and her juicy cunt and her trim little ass—how she felt, how she tasted, how she sounded. More precum ran from his cockhead, his dark purple erection frothing with white arousal. Thick drops flew off and fell to the floor as he pumped himself.

“Oh yeah,” Mary Jane vibrated. “Even when you’re fucking yourself, I fuck you so good.”

Peter opened his eyes. He stared at Mary Jane lustfully and though her nearly naked body filled him with motivation, almost desperation, his hand slowed on his cock. He didn’t want to come, not just to come. He wanted her.

“Don’t you dare, Peter,” Mary Jane said warningly. “Remember, you’re not here to fuck me. You’re here to come for me. Come for me, Peter! Now!”

Then she winked at him. And understanding dawned on Peter as vividly as his spider-sense had ever rung out. She didn’t want him to jerk off. She wanted him to fuck her. But to be so horny, so debauched, that the sex bordered on ravishment. She wanted him so feverish to sate himself that even her saying no wouldn’t deter him… only she wasn’t saying no.

“I’m coming for you,” Peter said, “now.”

And he seized hold of Mary Jane, quickly rearranging her as he wanted. On her hands and knees, facing away from him, that finely rounded ass up in the air for his use. He tugged her thong down just underneath her buttocks, then knelt on the bed with her, right behind her glorious ass.