S+C+R update

“Why am I doing this to you?” the man asked reflectively, his voice as deep and seductive as a vampire about to bite. “You’re beautiful. You are a vision of seduction, if I might say so. Why shouldn’t I appreciate that loveliness?”

Tigra’s pussy was dripping wetly now as she thrust three fingers furiously in and out, using her other hand to rub her clit. She’d never felt so wet or so loose in her life, like she could plunge her entire fist into her cunt. 

“You deserve pleasure. I want to spoil you with…”

Tigra ripped the earbuds out. So much for aural autoerotica. Another helpful suggestion to get her to come, but it was doing nothing. It just wasn’t fair. Her friend Felicia, and Mary Jane, and even Rogue, they were all being satisfied—and just by one man! She couldn’t get off if she were in the middle of an orgy.

She’d seen them go swimming in the hotel pool, the ladies flaunting themselves in front of him. They pranced around in their tiny bikinis, flirting, showing off their curves around for Peter. Well, all except for Rogue. She played hard to get, working on her tan, keeping her distance from everyone. But Tigra could tell when a girl was in heat. If she wasn’t sleeping with him yet, she soon would be. And she’d love it—it wouldn’t be weak or routine at all. Tigra could already tell that Peter was going to gush a great big load of his seed into Rogue’s receptive, grateful sex.

“But when I fucked her, I found myself thinking what it would be like with you,” Peter said.

Tigra closed her eyes. Oh yes. That was much better. She tried to think of what else he would say… dirty enough for Felicia, but romantic enough for a class act like Mary Jane…

“Every time I jerked off, I did it imagining your lovely face. And now it’s happening. Now that it’s happening, I can’t stop myself…”

Tigra reached for her vibrator and switched it on. Maybe this time…

***

Mary Jane came out of the restroom to see Felicia was still sitting in Peter’s lap. It seemed like it should’ve been uncomfortable, given the advanced state of her pregnancy, but Peter acted like she was weightless. Of course, to a man of his strength, there was probably not that much difference between her pregnant ass and a feather.

She immediately went on a charm offensive, bending at the waist to give two quick kisses to both her lovers. “Question: who here wants a small fortune?”

“You need to duck out?” Peter asked—hard-pressed to keep the disappointment out of his voice, though he did try.

“Just for an hour,” Mary Jane promised. “Think of it like when you need to run out and save the city from Galactus, only the city is our bank account and Galactus is our debt.”

“Way scarier,” Peter agreed. “G’wan, get outta here. Just hurry back.”

“One hour,” Mary Jane said.

Felicia leaned back against Peter’s chest, giving MJ a rakish look. “Hey, take your time. It’ll be nice to have Peter all to myself for a while.”

Mary Jane narrowed her eyes. “Is making me jealous your way of consoling yourself with me being gone?”

Felicia just smiled. “It won’t be as much fun as your tits, admittedly, but it is a little fun.”

Mary Jane put her hands on her hips, smiling back. “We’re married and you still think that the thought of you with Peter makes me jealous?”

“No, I think it turns you on. And I like the thought of you at your long, boring interview imagining all the fun you’re missing out on.”

“Cat,” Peter said warningly, flicking his finger against Felicia’s thigh. “Play nice.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Mary Jane said. “It does give me something to think about while I’m having a long, boring interview.”

“In that case,” Felicia said, “could you do me a favor and help me out of my panties?”

“Felicia!” Peter said sharply.

“What? It’s not like I’ll be needing them.”

Smirking with the challenge of it, the sadomasochistic intensity of the push and pull between her and Felicia, Mary Jane sat down in the seat beside Peter. Under the table, she reached between Felicia’s legs, going under her skirt. Felicia shuddered and gave Peter a small kiss on the chin as Mary Jane worked her panties off and tucked them into her own purse.

“She’s right,” Mary Jane said, brushing her leg against Peter’s. “She won’t be needing them. But in case you get bored of that—“ She smirked dangerously at Felicia. “—white-haired cunt… Put these on.”

And then, reaching under her own dress, Mary Jane skimmed her own panties off and stuffed them in Peter’s pocket as she leaned in to give him a kiss. She stood, the light streaming through the window haloing her body inside her dress. Peter stared at her legs as if he could see the lack of panties in her silhouette.

Mary Jane smirked at him, gave him another, longer kiss, stroking his face and ending it with a tonguing nip at his ear. “Fuck her. Wear her out. Use her up. Because when I get back, it’s my turn.”

“Jesus, Red,” Felicia said, squirming in her seat on Peter’s lap. “I can feel him.”

Mary Jane kissed her too. “Of course, if you wear him out…”

She left the thought unfinished, turning and walking away with the sun still outlining her body, Felicia staring after her just as ardently as Peter.

Peter wrapped his hands around Felicia, running a quick palm over her pregnant belly. His touch diminished to a scant trailing of his fingertip as he ran them between her perfectly rounded breasts, his palm and knuckles brushing along the inner curves of her cleavage, so swollen, so sensitive. Felicia sighed and retaliated, sinking her weight down upon his growing erection as she wiggled her ass around. To Peter, it felt like she was grinding against him on the dance floor.

“I didn’t think the two of you had been married long enough to be quarreling,” he said, a little bit of reproach in his voice even as he kissed Felicia’s ear.

“That wasn’t quarreling. That was flirting. The whole frenemy thing doesn’t go away just because we learned to share. And why would we want it to? It makes the sex fantastic.” Felicia put her hand down on Peter’s leg, scratching her nails into his thigh as if to piquantly demonstrate. “If I were really mad, I wouldn’t be messing around with lost panties and sexy little barbs. I’d be kicking her ass.”

“Pretty sure that’s frowned upon in couples counseling,” Peter reminded her.

“Not her ass—she couldn’t piss me off. You, maybe.”

“Yeah?” Peter tickled her a little, earning him another writhing motion against his hard-on. “Well, you couldn’t take me in a fight.”

“Mmm—who said we’d be fighting? I just mean I can be a little catty. It’s part of my charm. But if I were really upset—usually because of some loser supervillain being an asshole—I’d fuck shit up. Otherwise, I’m very Zen.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked again, tickling her a little harder. Felicia let loose a giggle. “You don’t look very Zen…”

“Stop it! Stop!” Felicia insisted, grabbing his hands and redirecting him to her pregnancy again. Somehow she felt a lot more settled with him holding her that way. “My point is, I don’t get mad with you guys. Just… shit. Out there shit.”

“Well, if you are upset, you know you can tell us anything, right? You don’t have to… flirt angrily or kick me in the face.”

“What if I like kicking you in the face?” Felicia pouted.

“Then my safe word is lettuce. But seriously—MJ and I talk about stuff like that all the time. You don’t have to be left out of that just because you’re a sexy cat burglar and not a ‘boring housewife’.”

“Yes, dad,” Felicia replied sarcastically. She could still feel his erection throbbing between her buttocks and she deliberately ground herself against it. “Or should that be yes, daddy?”

Peter coughed. “Maybe we should go find a room. Rooftop. Dark alleyway. Retro phone booth…”

Felicia smirked and took out her phone. She had Mary Jane on speed dial, although she took some sadistic pleasure in the number being 9.

Mary Jane picked up on the first ring. “Felicia? Something wrong?”

“Where are you?” Felicia asked.

“In a taxi. Why?”

“Are you on your Bluetooth?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Listen,” Felicia said, and slipped the phone into Peter’s shirt pocket, next to his heart. Then she rearranged her skirt so that it hung over Peter’s knees, leaving her bare ass seated on his lap. “Pull down your fly,” she whispered in Peter’s ear.

“Felicia, no, this is going too far. Not here.”

Turning her head over her shoulder, Felicia pressed her lips hungrily against his, her tongue shooting into his mouth to tangle with his. Peter was left gasping for air.

“You can either come in my pussy,” Felicia said, “or you can come in your pants. And I want your cum in my pussy. I want it so bad…”

“Do it, Peter,” Peter turned his head to see Mary Jane’s voice coming over the phone. She sounded breathless, whispering. “I’m going to close my eyes and listen to you and forget I’m in New York traffic. Let me hear you… with her.”

Jaw twitching, almost resentful in his silence, Peter admitted their power over him and unzipped his fly. His cock leapt out, as eager as a racehorse at the starting gate. 

“You two are crazy,” he said.

“Why do you think we married you?” they both said at the same time. 

Felicia lifted her ass and opened her legs slightly, the motion hidden from onlookers by the length of her skirt. She shifted her hips downward and Peter’s jutting cock pushed between her legs. Felicia shuddered as his glans rushed along her slit, lubricating itself in her arousal.

“Ready?”

“God, yes,” Peter moaned. “I’ve never been more ready.”

Peter was wrong. He wasn’t ready for Felicia’s hotly clenched sex to be enveloping his cock. She felt as tight as a virgin. But he would change that.

“You’re sweating. Did I do that to you?” Felicia asked, playfully tensing her inner folds around the length of his buried prick. She knew she’d gotten to him by the way his cock swelled up even fuller inside of her, dancing and bucking deeper into her tightening channel.

“Go on, Cat. Move up and down. Fuck yourself on me. I don’t know how much of this I can stand!”

“And I thought you were a superhero,” she chided. “Giving up to the forces of evil so easily?”

“You’re evil?” Peter laughed.

“Don’t I fuck evil?”

She bounded up and down on his erection, moving faster and faster, her skirt barely muffling the lewd squish of his manhood bulling through her pussy. They both heard it, though. And they both felt how tight a fit it was.

Felicia moaned softly, Peter clapping his hand over her mouth to keep her from getting any louder. She buried her face into his palm as she continued to fuck herself on his impossibly long, hard member. The engorged head blazed a trail deep inside her cunt, sinking further into the hot folds of her sex than she’d ever thought a man could go.

“Can you keep quiet?” he asked her, his gentle whisper in her ear arousing Felicia far more than harsher, more demanding dirty talk.

“Depends what I have in my mouth,” she sighed back, her lips dry and seemingly eternally parted. Felicia winced and clenched her jaw tightly shut as another ecstatic tremor rocked through her, flashing her teeth like a predator.

“Here,” Peter said, picking up an after dinner mint. He unrolled, popped it between Felicia’s lips, and ran his forefinger warningly over her mouth in a shushing gesture. “Suck.”

From his pocket, Felicia could hear Mary Jane laughing.

His hands gripped her around the waist, supporting her, keeping her from falling off his lap as he guided her in the motion he wanted. Felicia felt his swollen cock deep inside her pussy, lurching hard against her tender walls. She wished she could fondle her breasts, which felt like they were on fire, full of milk and now tipped with the erect nipples her pleasure had caused in her. Anyone could see them sticking out through her bra. And she couldn’t very well tense and relax her inner muscles when she was totally filled with his prick. Anymore and she would go mad…

“You’re sucking really good,” Peter said, watching from over her shoulder as her cheeks hollowed on the mint, gulping down her own flavored saliva to keep from opening her mouth and shouting out how good his actions felt. “You really should get a reward for sucking so hard…”

His hands moved under her skirt, rolling lovingly over the rotund curve of her lower belly, down to her clitoris. Using slow movements, he let her fuck herself at the same time as she caused her clit to rut against his swirling fingertips. It was too much for her, but Felicia couldn’t stop herself. She came, bellowing around the mint she sucked so the noise only came out as a muffled groan.

Heads turned and stared at the couple. Felicia kept grinding down on his cock, faster now that her need had grown so much. It was Peter’s fault. He made it feel so good…

“It’s alright,” Peter assured the crowd, “she’s just having a few contractions. They’ll pass in a minute.”

“I’ll rip your head off in a minute if you don’t finish me off,” Felicia hissed under her breath, the mint shuffled to the side of her cheek.

“You’re going to have to stay quiet,” he cautioned her. “You’ll get us arrested.”

“I don’t know about you, but I like prison showers,” she whispered. “I’ve made some really good friends there.”

“I think I have something your friends from showering don’t.”

Seeing that the crowd had turned back to their dinners, he decided to show his new wife exactly what that was. He took Felicia by her womanly hips—birthing hips, he thought—and pulled her down the length of his erection. He heard the mint click against her teeth as she started sucking it again.

“Oh! I think I have it too…” Felicia retaliated, taking hold of him with her clenching folds, then trying to stand up. She was strong enough to pull him out of his chair, and for a moment, Peter hung from the gripping strength of her inner muscles, his breath taken away by the impossible tightness of it.

Then he slid free, landing hard in his seat, now totally drenched in sweat. He’d never known Felicia could be so tight, and his balls bunched up in anticipation of spurting out the granite-heavy load stirring inside them. He fought the white tide of his ejaculation back down; he didn’t want to come, not yet. He wanted to keep pleasing Felicia, for the first days of their married life to be so passionate she’d never forget it. And he had to admit, it felt so good that he wished it could go on forever.

“Harder,” Felicia whispered frantically. “Fuck it in as I come down. I want to feel every single inch of the cock that got me pregnant. Feels even bigger than when it knocked me up… I can’t get enough of it.”

“You’re going to be overflowing before I’m done with you,” Peter promised her. Marshalling all the willpower he could, he drove himself into her softly yielding cunt, bouncing Felicia away from him even as she plunged down onto his erection. It felt amazing, their bodies crashing together, but he knew he was fighting a losing power. His body demanded release. And here it was—!

His white hot-seed jetted into her, filling her eagerly anticipating cunt. The clenched fist around his manhood told him Felicia was coming too; he heard the mint shatter as she crushed it between her gritted teeth. Together, Peter’s arms locked around her, they exploded. And when their mutual orgasm had ended, Felicia turned to the side and stared into Peter’s eyes for a very long time.

Felicia kissed him quickly and said, “I think I’m ready for dessert.”

“I thought you just had it,” Peter commented.

After sealing Peter’s cock away again, she swiftly moved to a neighboring chair, crossing her legs to hide what they’d done.

“Peter.”

Peter automatically started to look around for Mary Jane’s voice, before realizing it was coming from his pocket. The phone call still hadn’t ended. He took out the cell phone and held it to his ear. “Yes?”

“Show me.”

Felicia overheard. Pulling her chair into the table as far as her pregnancy would allow, she spread her legs underneath the dangling tablecloth. 

Peter moved the phone under the table, aimed it in the direction of Felicia’s groin, and pressed the camera button. Holding the phone up again, he sent the picture to Mary Jane.

“Jesus, Peter. Jesus Christ. She’s so full. How many times did you fuck her? She’s still open.”

“Now do you feel bad for stealing her panties?” Peter asked.

“That’s not the way I remember it,” Mary Jane replied. “Tell Felicia that I’m not sure having a white streak down her legs is the best way to promote her brand. And give her my panties. They should fit. If there’s anywhere she’s likely to burn fat, it’s there.”

“I’ll tell her you said that too,” Peter threatened. He took MJ’s panties out of his pocket and passed them to Felicia, again under the table. She wiggled into them, blowing a kiss to Peter and, he sensed, to Mary Jane over the phone. “Felicia says hi.”

“I’m betting she said a lot more than that, unless you gagged her.”

“I told you, you took her panties.”

Peter actually heard Mary Jane moan. I probably shouldn’t be working her up so much while she’s in a New York cab. Cannot be sanitary.

“I’m almost here,” Mary Jane said. “Why don’t you take her back home and really show her a good time? Because when I get home, I’m certainly not letting her hog you anymore.”

***

For a long time Tigra lay there silently, letting the vibrator buzz. She finally turned it off and the quiet of the apartment came back to her. Firelight flickered on the ceiling. She was a bit amazed at her own frenzy, even if it hadn’t come to anything. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and cupped her sex, thinking of how good this throbbing soreness would feel if it were paired with satisfaction, if she didn’t still feel an almost painful lust.

She stood up, naked, and saw that the fire had burned down. She added another log to it and the flames leapt up. She caressed herself before their heat. She smoothed her hands ecstatically across her billowing fur, down to her cunt, which she opened, allowing the fiery heat to play over her sensitive inner flesh. And then she started fingering herself again, hoping this time she might get lucky as she balanced on teetering legs.

***

Rogue pressed her fingers to her lips as she walked in a daze down the sidewalk. Reaching an intersection, she stopped. The cars passing in front of her blurred within her tears. She leaned against the traffic signal pole, hardly able to stand as her cunt kept throbbing. It only seemed to get more intense as she thought more and more about Peter and Tabitha. Oh, it was so strong, it was sapping all her energy just to make her more and more aroused. Even now she could vividly picture Tabitha bound like some animal, slapped from one side of the bed to the other, roped by Peter’s domineering hands. And how she’d loved it! Rogue could still see that in Tabitha’s eyes. Tabitha loved it, no matter how much she screamed, because she’d come, jerking and bucking, enjoying every moment of Peter filling her up with his scalding cum.

“Uhhhh…”

Rogue sagged heavily down the pole, her fingers clawing at the adverts plastered to it while her heart beat sharply. She couldn’t even judge Tabitha, because she’d enjoyed it too. At least Tabitha had been fulfilling some perverted desires. Rogue, without compulsion, had enjoyed watching it being done—wishing she could take Tabitha’s place. There’d been moments when she could almost feel Peter’s hands pawing her, pulling at her body, tugging her hair, slapping her while the pain only increased her excitement.

“God, what is wrong with me?”

Rogue shook her head violently as if she could throw the obscene thoughts clear of her mind. People were starting to notice her sitting there, so she pushed herself up and stumbled away, trying to ignore the curious gazes of the bystanders—looking at her like she’d looked at Tabitha. She couldn’t go back, not yet, not until she was certain that Peter was gone. She didn’t trust herself to be alone with him… knowing what he could do to a woman. How he could make her feel. How he’d made Rogue feel…

“Fuck!”

Rogue whispered the forbidden, the declassee word, her flesh roiling with excitement as she let the associations of that word and that sound wash over her. She was thinking of Peter and what he would, could do to her. Would he tie her up as he’d done to Tabitha, then fuck her brains out? Or would he be more loving, more gentle, as he was with Mary Jane? And which did she want from him? And what would it even feel like to have a man on top of her, holding her down and penetrating into her with such a big, such an amazingly big cock?

Rogue had been asking herself variations on those questions now for what felt like years, but she’d never before asked them with such urgency. Because now she could have an answer. Hadn’t Mary Jane invited her to… do that? Couldn’t she have that now, anytime she wanted? After all, if Peter went for a… woman like Tabitha, then surely he’d be interested in a Southern belle like her.

Rogue realized that the sun was setting, and now wondered just how long she’d been wandering the streets. What foolishness! Even with her powers, she was still a mutant, and a lady, and walking around aimlessly like this was a good way for her to find trouble she didn’t need. Rogue looked around, trying to place her surroundings. She had a lot of memories of New York from all the absorptions she’d had, and it shouldn’t be too hard for her to figure out where… she… was…

Rogue stared through the display case window at a French maid outfit, daringly arranged on a mannequin. Even on a blank slate like that, it looked sexy. Had she unconsciously come here, stared by one set of memories or another, knowing what she would find, what she could have.

Rogue reached for her billfold to count how much money she had. She certainly hoped she could afford it. And after all, just because she had it didn’t mean she had to wear it. If she decided against it, she could always give it to Goodwill. No, they would never take it. Emma. Emma could paint it white or something.

“So it’s not f’r me,” Rogue figured. “It’s mainly a gift. Ah might not even take it outta the box…”

***

With no orgasm, and hornier than ever, Tigra drew herself a bath, hoping the warm water would at least soothe her enough that she could calm down. She felt high-strung, on the verge of a breakdown. She couldn’t come, but she couldn’t stop thinking about sex either. Setting aside her usual bikini—the only clothing she required when technically she didn’t show an inch of skin—she slipped into the bubble bath. It was then she heard a knock at the door.

“Oh, come on!” The knock came again. “I’ll be there in a moment!”

Hurriedly, she got out and rinsed off the many suds with the flexing showerhead, then toweled off as fast as she could. She left the bath full, hoping she would get a chance to use it as she threw on a bathrobe, knowing it was following the same nonsense logic that made Donald Duck wear swim trunks when he didn’t wear pants. With it tightly tied, she went to answer the door.

When she did, Felicia smiled at her, licking her blood-red lips, and for a moment Tigra wondered if Felicia drank her blood type.