Forsake Your Vows 3

“Aahh… that was lovely,” Peter said as he picked his body up off of his naked wife. “There’s nothing like some good sex to start the day off right.”

Beneath him, feeling his cum flowing from her labia lips, Mary Jane bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the caustic remark she felt sparking on her tongue. Once more, Peter had failed to make her climax, something that had once been an exception and now was becoming more and more the norm.

She picked her head up and watched Peter dress, wanting to say something, but unable to find the words. If there was anything Peter prided himself in, it was how capable he was. Able to handle anything all by himself. Mary Jane didn’t know how she could tell him she was unsatisfied without him taking it harshly.

His slender body rippled with the hard muscles he possessed, like a Greek god. That was what had attracted MJ, as well as sundry other women, to him. And for a long time, their sex life had been everything their two mutually alluring bodies had promised. An epic event, appealing even simply to watch, as they’d proven by making a few sex tapes in their day.

But ever since Mary Jane had been benched, either she’d become less responsive or Peter had become less discerning when it came to her reactions. At this point, their sex life was hit or miss.

Sometimes Peter would bring her to her peak, but sometimes he wouldn’t. Even when he did, the dissatisfaction of those times he couldn’t or wouldn’t cast a pall over her pleasure. Peter seemed to think that nothing was wrong either way. Every time he came inside her, he assumed that she had orgasmed as well. Mary Jane couldn’t bring herself to take away that romantic self-assurance of his.

Now, after two weeks of Peter and Felicia being a team while she trained with Eddie, Mary Jane had come to expect that Peter would get her close enough to taste her climax, then prove unable to hold himself back long enough for her to actually get there.

“Something wrong, hon?” Peter asked as he finished dressing. “You seem a little off this morning.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Mary Jane told him, inwardly snarling at herself for humoring him with such a lie. If they had their old closeness, she would come right out and tell him she needed more from him. But their marriage felt too fraught for her to open that can of worms. “Are you going to be home in time for dinner?”

“Can’t say,” Peter answered, looking around for his jacket. “Cat’s got some good tips about a new player in the underworld. We’re tracking him down. I want to be sure we catch up to him before he gets wise that we’re trailing him. What about you? What are you up to?”

“I don’t know,” Mary Jane replied, evincing a flat voice when she knew that she was going to go to Eddie’s and get in some more training. “Maybe I’ll just go to the gym.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” Peter told her. “Maybe just a nice walk. We’ve got some good cool air today. I think we even got some snow last night.”

Mary Jane nodded. She found herself hoping he would simply leave and not aggravate her anymore, as he was now.

It wasn’t his fault, she knew, that she was so short-tempered, but she still felt anger and frustration as he took off. It’d only be a few minutes, if that, until he was in his costume and swinging into action with Cat.

If he used half the energy on me that he uses with her…

Finally hearing the door close behind Peter, Mary Jane dropped down onto the bed. The feel of the damp sheets on her bare skin only reminded her that, as much as she loved her husband, he wasn’t loving her in one of the most important parts of their marriage and she didn’t know how to fix that.

She remembered what he’d said to her when they’d separated—how there was nothing like good sex to start the day off. Mary Jane agreed wholeheartedly, but it was only good for him, not for her.

And when she looked down at her naked body, she saw no problems with what she viewed. She was still a beautiful woman—her body always trim and firm. As much as her training with Eddie bruised her flesh and dented her pride, it was starting to add a healthy glow to the freckled paleness of her soft, smooth skin.

Her breasts were full and proud, her belly was flat and taut—even her pubic hair was alluringly manicured, not totally bare, but by no means uncontrolled growth. If there were a problem with Peter’s sex drive, it was certainly not because she lacked the necessary inspiration for him to fixate on.

“And Felicia doesn’t lack for anything either,” she thought out loud. Then she turned her head about, as if Peter might’ve heard her, standing close enough to overhear like something out of a bad sitcom.

Just thinking of him and the possibility of an affair with Black Cat brought back Mary Jane’s feeling of going without. But she reminded herself that it certainly wasn’t as if Peter were incapable of pleasing her. She remembered just a few months back…

Their late night patrols tended to knock Annie out, ready to be tucked into bed the moment they got home, while Peter and Mary Jane were revved up like a pair of hot rods, equally ready to go. They celebrated with sexual victory laps so extravagant, Peter sometimes used webbing to make sure MJ’s exuberant shouts didn’t wake their daughter.

She remembered those weeks of special intimacy together with pure fondness… remembered them as a time when her womanhood was almost continuously aroused, tingling, and then finally filled. She could just about picture Peter as he had been then—seeing him naked, crouching between her open thighs, with his excitingly pulsing manhood ready to enter her snatch.

Mary Jane moaned aloud and shut her eyes as if to block out the sensual vision. It didn’t bother her in and of itself, but in its implication. She hated the thought that this might only be a memory… a fading recollection of the sex life that was never coming back. Then she let those desirous thoughts seep back into her mind’s eye. It wasn’t like she could shut them out anyway.

She thought of Peter’s hands on her nubile hips, lifting them up to his groin even as he came down on her, his rigid prick sliding inside her heated slot. It felt wonderful—she remembered reaching down and feeling the bristling hair at his loins, then touching the long, thick shaft itself in a tight grasp that pumped back and forth, sliding his foreskin along his endowment. Peter moaned in delight while he anxiously waited to be once more inside of her, feeling those other overpowering sensations her body could provide.

“Hell!” Mary Jane said aloud. “Why do I keep thinking like that? Dwelling on the past isn’t going to help anything…”

Hearing her own voice didn’t convince her any more than telling herself that in her thoughts. As she kept lying there in the crumpled, sweat-damp sheets, Mary Jane’s stomach churned with flickers of lust, lust that went with the remembrances that continued to entrance her.

Peter on top of her, his breath warm in her ear, his lips warm at the side of her throat, and his rock-hard erection deep inside her trembling labia. Burning hot.

She strained up to meet his strokes, the muscles of her thighs and buttocks clenching to fully propel herself to the base of his erection and get all she could of his lust-swollen manhood. Her voracious sex wanted it all.

Now her heated depths pulsed with a tender ache; Mary Jane could almost feel him, the memory of his demands freshly seared into her lascivious mind. The ache poured fuel on the fire that had been there all morning, tingling since Peter had attempted to sate her but left her unsatisfied.

Without thought, Mary Jane lifted her hand and touched a swollen teat, thumbing her hardened nipple, delighting in the sensitivity that came with its stiffness. Her caressing fingers added to the passionate throbbing inside her, a hot wetness that occupied all of her coursing folds as though her body had scant moments to prepare for a rapturous session with Peter.

“Take all this prick, Mary Jane,” she heard a voice demand, but it wasn’t that of her husband. MJ couldn’t care, though. Not now. All that mattered about this fantasy was that it was getting her off, unlike Peter.

She closed her eyes and almost felt a body on top of her, hard and thick, overweening in its masculinity. Muscular pecs, like blocks of cement, pressed her proud breasts flat between their bodies. And a hotly throbbing member finally spread her palpitating labia, bringing its trembling to an ecstatic stillness.

“Yessss,” Mary Jane crooned, the fantasy intoxicating… but a niggling spasm sweeping over her as she recollected where she’d heard that voice before.

Mary Jane opened her eyes, disappointed that it wasn’t real, but relieved she wasn’t truly making love to a man other than her husband—even if Peter’s failure to properly service her was at the root of her adulterous imaginings anyway. And she was still as aroused as she had ever been.

What the hell? It was a harmless fantasy and she was too mad at Peter to overlook the frustration he’d instilled in her. She had to ease her arousal and the only way to do that was with her own hand.

Then Mary Jane bit her lower lip. There was something else she could do, something her subconscious seemed to be crying out for, judging by how it had summoned up his voice in such passionate circumstances. But thinking about that would ruin her daydream as surely as installing Peter in it.

She had to do something to relieve the ache of her arousal. She deserved to have something to show for her body’s wetness and willingness, a willingness that Peter had failed to appreciate. Even if it felt like an admission of defeat to tend to her sexual frustration on her own, she wouldn’t humor the mere thought of Peter by pretending she didn’t need this.