She Is Venom

Mary Jane found it hard to wait for the date to end. And in her dress, she knew it was even harder for Peter to wait. So it was no surprise when they got into the elevator and she found herself on her knees, her fashionable dress hiked up over her womanly hips, with Peter’s fly unzipped and his big cock out for her to adore with her mouth. 

She sucked him to orgasm, and her dress didn’t fall one inch before she was lifted up and turned around and fucked from behind, both of them grunting and groaning like dogs in heat. His massive erection was a piece of heaven inside her, and she came three times before he shot another load. That was Peter Parker for you. Always so giving.

And a spider-sense came in so handy for quickies too.

They adjusted their clothes, seeing that the elevator had automatically returned to the ground floor while they’re been preoccupied. Peter hit the button for their floor again and the car leapt into motion. Mary Jane looked to his face, wanting to see some of the goofy, orgasmic glee she herself was feeling, but instead saw him wearing a solemn expression. It made her kick lightly at his shoe.

“What?” Peter asked, turning to her in confusion.

“Peter, after what you did inside me, I feel like running through a botanical garden or something. And I know I’m even better at it. So why do you look like someone ran over your cat?”

“Oh, you know… Venom.”

“Yeah, your old suit. You have the weirdest problem with hand-me-downs.” Mary Jane adjusted her hair. “I thought that new host, Brooke Edwards or whatever, was a fan of yours. So what’s the problem?”

“We’re about as much on the same side as me and Punisher. Even if Venom isn’t eating people… that’s a big if… it seems like all it takes is one wrong move for Venom to flip out at me and go on the offensive. It’s like I ran over her cat. The whole damn thing is just… what’s the problem? I didn’t want a symbiote, Brooke did, I wish them the best of luck joining the Avengers. Why do the two of us have to fight every other Saturday?”

“Who knows?” MJ mused. “Maybe she’s nursing a broken heart.”

“Oh, come off it.”

“Not Brooke. Your slimy buddy. She, it, does seem totally obsessed with you. And it did pick the president of your fan club to bond with.”

“Brooke wasn’t the president,” Peter argued. “She was a VP.”

“They’re both totally fixated on you, you won’t give them the time of day because they freak you out, so they get frustrated and lash out. It’s happened to me,” Mary Jane said. “I’ll miss you, I’ll want to be with you, but then I get so angry that someone’s making me feel that way that I have to take it out on someone, so I start dumb fights like a lunatic.”

“When was this?” Peter asked.

“Before I started asking you to choke me during sex. That’s much more constructive.”

“So you think I should seduce Venom into not having such a weird hate-on for me?”

“Why not? It worked on Black Cat,” Mary Jane teased. The elevator chimed as they finally reached their destination. “Speaking of lingerie, can I have them back?”

“Have what back?” Peter asked innocently, stepping off of the elevator into the milling crowd.

Mary Jane hurried to catch up. “My panties,” she said, whispering as low as she could while still being sure he heard her.

“What?” Peter asked. “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

Mary Jane raised her voice. “Give me my panties back!” she hissed, almost at conversation level. A few heads turned as they passed by and Mary Jane blushed. She saw Peter reach into his pocket as he went to the floor’s other elevator bank, pressing the call button. With a dull tone, a set of elevator doors slid open.

“Come get them,” Peter said, slipping inside.

***

He found her under the eaves of a dilapidated building, white eyes staring out from between boarded up windows. His spider-sense didn’t tell him anything; it was all nerves, the spooks, the heebie-jeebies. Usually those came right on the heels of his little sixth sense. Having one without the other creeped him out even more.

“What do you want, web-wuss?” Brooke growled, her voice that of the comingled symbiote even if she hadn’t fully Hulked out. “You wanna start something, let’s go, let’s go right now!”

Clinging to the wall beside the window, Peter held up his hands. “Easy, Brooke. I didn’t come here to fight. I thought we should talk.”

“We have nothing to say,” Brooke retorted, stepping away from the window and disappearing into the darkness. 

Spying a gap between boards, Peter slipped inside of the darkened room, then stood painfully still as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. “I know you’ve been trying to protect people, but you’re taking it too far. You’re sending your guys to the hospital instead of prison. You need to ease off, cool down.”

“Or maybe you should pick up the pace,” Brooke rumbled huskily. Peter picked her up, the brackish purple outline of her suit breaking up the shadows. He walked toward her cautiously, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“I think you need to relax before you go and do something you don’t want to do. I can help you with that.”

Brooke turned away angrily. “We don’t need your help, any more than you need us. You made that real clear, Spider.”

“Yeah, maybe I was hasty,” Peter said. “You’ve been a big help at times. We make a good team. But maybe I’ve made you feel rejected… not good enough… and I’m sorry for that. So instead of sniping at each other and getting into pointless fights, let’s focus on the real bad guys. What do you say?”

Brooke kept her back to him. “You had your chance to be a team with us. You blew it!”

“Is that what all of you thinks?” he persisted. “Or is there a part of you that remembers what it was like? I was your host for a long time, Venom. We shared a lot of things. Felicia. Mary Jane. Gwen. You remember how good it was for all of us, don’t you? Aren’t you curious how good it could be with you, me, and Brooke?”

He took off his gloves with a telltale rustle of fabric, slotting them into his belt. Brooke remained curiously motionless. He reached out to her, putting his hands on her back, her shoulders, rubbing his palms in circles over the resin costume. It was like touching solid oil, but he could feel the warmth of her flesh underneath.

“I know that suit feels good, but I’m willing to bet that I feel even better.”

The symbiote retracted like a video tape being rewound, creeping off of her bare back, her shoulders, allowing him to massage her flesh against flesh. Brooke turned her head to the side, still confused, but Peter could see that his insistence was getting the better of her. She wanted to believe it, so he slipped his hands over her shoulders, down to her full breasts, rubbing her pectoral muscles and the slopes of her cleavage. Brooke let out a guttural moan and leaned back, the shorter woman’s head against his chest. He could see her eyes were closed.

Brooke was a slim, but well-curved woman of average height, her long straight hair dark and gleaming. She had a small firm waist, slim round hips, and well-toned legs. Her deep tan set off sparkling eyes. The clinging symbiote showed her figure deliciously, her ripe round breasts jiggling unsupported and seemingly weightless under a layer of costume more like body paint than anything else. 

“My pussy’s on fire,” she moaned, getting down on her knees still facing away from him. Peter got the idea it was more about being on eyelevel with his crotch than anything else. He reached into his suit and hauled out his rigid cock. When he let it go, it landed against her cheek. With Brooke turning her head to one side, it throbbed under her nose, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed it. “Don’t hold back. I’ll know if you do. I remember what it was like with all the women who can take it; I can take it too. Make it worth my while, Peter.”

“I will, baby,” Peter said, getting down on one knee, ushering Brooke down to lie on her back. “I’m gonna make up for everything I did wrong.”

Not that he saw much wrong about not wanting to have an alien goo turning his body into a duplex, but he’d long ago learned that relationships weren’t about winning fights, they were about ending them. 

With Brooke lowered onto her back, the symbiote retreated from her, staying on like some naughty lingerie that bared her breasts and sex, but wound around her arms, her thighs, her belly. It was as if she’d smeared herself ritualistically with black oil for some exotic sex rite. 

Peter crawled between her legs, elbowing her thighs apart. As he lowered himself to her womanhood, Peter buried his face in the valley between her breasts, letting her feel his mouth, wet and hot. He slipped the tip of his member into her swollen labia as he bit down on her left nipple, and joined Brooke in giving a low, raspy moan, his cockhead feeling the same pressure inside her tight opening.

“Now,” he groaned, “isn’t this better than fighting?”

By the way Brooke thrust her hips up to him, the rippling folds of her sex squeezing his manhood, she agreed. Peter felt the symbiote slipping and sliding along the cracks of her ass, touching his balls as they laid there, a fluttering warmth that he had to admit added to the excitement.

“Fuck me,” Brooke demanded, running fingers gloved with symbiote over the muscles of his shoulders and back. “Ram that big cock inside me until you’ve made enough room for a gallon of cum!”

“How?” Peter teased her, kissing her breasts with growing hunger. He thrust himself into her with savage focus. Brooke gasped loudly, the symbiote masturbating her clit as Peter fucked her, and Peter just had to needle: “Oh, like that, right?”

“Yes!” Brooke mewled, feeling herself turning to warm butter around Peter’s thrusting. “Just—like—hnnnh!”

Peter slid his hands under her ass and cupped the firm buttocks, lifting her up to his crotch as he lunged into her more powerfully, making them both tremble in ecstasy. He tightened his grip on her ass, holding her steady to completely embed himself in her.

“Fuck, this is good!” Peter moaned, pausing a moment to keep himself from coming too soon, then slamming himself into her all over again. “Too fucking good!”

Brooke matched his movements as if symbiosis linked all three of them, driving herself up to his pistoning cock until she was frenzied with passion. Her sex was boiling, suckling at his prick, her whole body begging for more. She bent her knees and dug her heels into the floor, lifting her body to rut against him.

“Fuck me!” she cried out, digging symbiote claws into the small of his back, raking blood in scarlet lines to his flanks. “Goddamn you, make me come!”

Peter slammed into her like a crazed animal, his hands brutally pulling her asscheeks apart, allowing a tendril of the symbiote to push into her anus. He felt its thrusts from inside her pussy. His cock was rock-hard, the tip of it pulsating with almost painful intensity. He thought he could feel his seed roiling within his balls.

“UNH! UNH! UNH!” Peter grunted, his teeth grinding into Brooke’s teat, his hips a blur as he thrust into her. He felt a liquid sensation deep in his groin as his cum flooded into his shaft. “I’m…!”

“AHHHH!” Brooke cried out, joining in his ecstatic moans. Her mouth flew open and the symbiote snaked inside, thrusting into her throat. Her womanhood locked around Peter’s member, holding him inside her as she exploded with hot, jerking clenches, jolts of satiation rippling through both her and the symbiote.

Peter joined them, a thick splatter of his creamy seed gushing into the back of her cunt. It was followed by more, searing and delicious, covering Brooke’s inner folds. Peter couldn’t help himself; he started thrusting again, splashing in the huge quantity he’d ejaculated, forcing out an oozing river from the bottom of her sex.

“Hhhhn!” Peter groaned, throwing his head back, his face contorted as Brooke’s convulsing sex milked him dry. He gave another choked gasp, every muscle in his body tightening. “Take… it… all!” he sputtered as his orgasm reached its peak.

He finally collapsed, panting, on top of Brooke. The symbiote throating her had become a layer of jet-black lipstick which left a faint imprint on Peter as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. Her orgasm was now a dull throb, the desperate need washed away by his huge load. Brooke writhed subtly under his weight, still impaled on his cock, feeling the last of the ecstasy thrumming through its drained emptiness.

“Maybe we’re not meant to be partners,” Brooke said with the symbiote’s echoing resonance. “But we could always be friends with benefits…”