Knock Knock update

It’d only been a few short weeks since Peter had last gotten a good look at Mary Jane, but he was still astonished by her beauty. She was aging impeccably; in her mid-twenties, she didn’t look a day over eighteen. But she didn’t look inexperienced or naïve, not at all, not even virginal. She had every virtue of youth and every sign of knowledge, her face fresh, her expression clever, her eyes knowing. And her body…

Well, it was hard not to think of her body, no matter how much Peter respected her as a person, when he came into his apartment and saw Mary Jane there, apparently wearing nothing but one of his shirts. She was tall enough that it came to upper thigh (never had Peter been so glad to be on the short side), curvy enough that it showed through the baggy fabric, especially her breasts, which preceded her so far that the T-shirt strained around the imprint of her thick nipples.

Visiting her on a few movie sets, Peter’d actually heard a few of the crew cracking jokes about her full breasts, believing they were fake, but Mary Jane cried all the way to the bank. Her looks were her assets and those tits were paying big dividends, not least of all with Peter.

“Oh, Peter, you startled me,” Mary Jane said, not bothering to use much of her acting talent at all. She pulled the shirt down over her crotch in an absent, but totally deliberate fashion. “I thought I’d change clothes, but I just realized I don’t have any clothes here. Don’t you think we should change that?”

Peter played it cool. He was never really a stuttering mess around girls anymore, but he imagined even Tony Stark would be a bit overwhelmed in this situation. Though after Diana and Zatanna had taken a ride on him, he felt cool as a cucumber. Mostly.

“I thought you said we worked better as friends,” Peter reminded her, strolling around the perimeter of his apartment, keeping Mary Jane at arm’s length—for now. (And never had he been so grateful to have such a cramped apartment either.) “That I was too in love with being Spider-Man to satisfy your needs.”

“My needs?” Mary Jane repeated slowly, tip-toeing around the couch that had come between her and Peter. “I didn’t really put it that way, did I?” she asked wryly.

“You might not’ve,” Peter admitted, his ears starting to redden. As much as Wondy and Zee had taken out of him, they hadn’t killed him.

“Good. Doesn’t sound like me. I’d never be so dishonest as to say you didn’t take care of my needs.”

She didn’t try to chase him. From her smile, the look in her eye, she fully expected him to come to her… when she wanted that.

“Is that why you’re here then? You have needs?”

“Always,” Mary Jane interrupted, putting a stop to the languid little chase by sitting down on the arm of Peter’s loveseat. If Peter kept going, his steps would inevitably bring him to her.

And to the expanse of creamy thigh she showed off with her borrowed shirt now drawn up about her slender waist.