Spider + Cat + Redhead update

Tony had taken over the DJ booth and the blaring rock music he favored assaulted Angelica’s ears, barely dulled by the Long Island Iced Tea that she dusted. As her eyes became accustomed to the dim light shot through with disco tech—she just got that—she began to see what the wedding reception had become. There were go-go dancers wearing nothing but pasties, dancing atop tables.

Angelica watched them a moment, sizing up their bodies and comparing them to hers. She knew she was petite with her face far more cute and impish than it could ever be sensual, but she consoled herself that she had personality. They just had boobs.

The girls Peter had married had both, so it was hard to tell which he valued more.

In front of the DJ booth where Tony held court, a swarm of dancers moved to the beat of the primitive music. Their bodies pulsed together like a living percussion instrument. Angelica’s body was responding to the beat just like theirs, responding to them, and if no one asked her to dance soon, she would have to find someone good-looking and throw herself out there. Yeah, something inside her jeered, like an anchor.

As she fought her way through the crowd, she caught a few comments directed her way. They were salacious, shocking even, the kind of thing she would slap someone for in public. But here, they were a bit gratifying. It was good to know people would choose to look at her over a go-go dancer. Angelica had the feeling she was in for a good time.

She squeezed into the pile-up of people lining the bar and waved a tenner to attract the bartender’s attention. As the men standing around her noticed, they moved back a little so they could get a look at her.

Angelica got her drink—her second, not that she was keeping track—and struck a subtle pose as she drank it, arching her back, thrusting her hips out, hoping she had enough chest and enough ass to keep people interested. Her eyes scanned the sea of people and a few possibilities caught her eye, but most of them were taken. It seemed like there was no hope of catching a man in an ocean where the Black Widow or Scarlet Witch were also fishing. Lately, she’d heard rumors of a lot of open relationships, from Natasha and Bucky to Wanda and the Vision, which seemed just real fucking fair. Wanda Maximoff, the fantasy of every guy who’d sent off for a mail-order bride, not only had a husband and kids, but got to hook up with one night stands? No one had any consideration for single women anymore.

She finished her drink and called for another. With two or three drinks in her, she could be a wild woman, and seeing the competition tonight, she had no interest in being tame. Not that she was that when sober.

She was a redhead, after all.

Angelica decided she was going to dance the moment someone asked. When she was dancing, it didn’t really matter who she was with. She could enjoy herself just being hit by the hard, insistent shock of the music, her head empty of anything but the beat, her body leading an existence of its own, flying with the rhythm, seeing if her partner could keep up.

And if they could or if they couldn’t, she would enjoy the titillation of their heated glances on her breasts as they moved freely under the thin covering of her vintage Indian cheesecloth blouse, on her well-rounded ass grinding sensuously inside her clinging slacks. She stepped out of her sandals and put her bare feet on the cool dance floor, its feel incredibly sensuous as her toes gripped the edges of the tiles in methodical response to the beat.

“Your drink, madam,” someone said, and Angelica was wondering who the wiseass was when she turned to him and it was Peter. For a moment, she didn’t recognize him—he looked different, like he’d gotten a new haircut or something, but of course that was impossible. He wore the same jacket as before, the same tie as before; he’d probably just had a drink or two. Loosened up. “On me,” he told her, signaling the bartender. Then, slightly to himself. “On Peter Parker…”

She smiled at him. “We’ve come a long way from sharing an apartment in the Bronx. Back then, you could barely come up with your share of the rent. You did so many chores I think the bathroom tiles were on intimate terms with you. But look at you now…” She sipped her drink through its straw, looking him over. Yes, it was definitely Peter, but close up, he definitely seemed different. Maybe it was being married to two women at once. He seemed like the exact type to have two wives. “Buying me a drink.”

“I could buy you another if you’re still not used to it.”

“Patience, webs. I still haven’t finished this one.” She wrapped her lips around the straw again.

“And here I thought redheads moved fast,” Peter replied, and Angelica sputtered a little on her gulp. She’d never known Peter to be a flirt, either.

“Where’re your wives, hotshot?”

“Wedding photos,” Peter said in a transparent lie. “Or a closet somewhere.”

“They’re married to each other. I’d say they’re out of the closet.”

Someone bumped into Angelica and she nearly spilled her drink before Peter’s hand lashed out and steadied hers, wrapping around her grip on the martini’s stem. “How about we sit down somewhere that’s a little less of a contact sport?”

“That sounds pretty good,” she said.

His hand moved to the small of her back and pushed her inexorably forward as they walked to the booths lining the room. She edged in close beside him in the booth and finished her drink. Seeming delighted with her thirst, Peter signaled a waitress for refills.

Under the table, his hand rode lightly up the inside of her thigh. There was a dreamy, unmistakable look in her eye and Angelica wondered if he knew what that meant, knew how the music was getting to her—all that squirming and writhing around. If he asked, he could very likely do anything he wanted with her. The old Peter never would’ve realized that. Never had realized that.

“This is crazy, isn’t it?” she asked him. “Here you’re an Avenger, a married man, family man, and I’m… I mean, who would’ve guessed it would all work out for you? Yeah, you’re a nice guy, of course it would work out for you. But for me? That’s crazy, it working out for you and not for me.” She was babbling. Her next drink arriving gave her an excuse to shut up.

She didn’t, though. “It’s just weird, I remember us having this chemistry, but we never did anything because we knew it wouldn’t work. And here you are and it’s like maybe I could be Wife Number Two—“

“Wife Number Three,” Peter interrupted.

“Yeah… if I’d just… been impulsive.” Angelica didn’t look at him. She realized she wasn’t looking at him. “Not that I want to be Wife Number Three…”

“You don’t have to be,” Peter assured her, and he sounded somewhat… smutty.

She signaled for another drink before realizing she hadn’t finished her present one.

***

Felicia’s room was a thief’s. The furnishings were high-end, top of the line in fact, but anonymous in their luxury. There were no heirlooms, nothing sentimental, nothing that couldn’t be abandoned at a moment’s notice. Still, Peter’d slept in far worse rooms.

He guided Felicia inside, his arm once again around her waist, his hand resting just below her breast. He sat down in a huge stuffed chair and pulled Felicia down into his lap, then kissed her on the mouth. “Is this my chair?” he asked her, sliding his hand from mid-thigh to the garter belt he felt under her trousers. Her head was spinning from the excitement and tipsiness of the others, pounding in on her, and she felt excited; the kind of feeling she usually fought.

“It’s my chair,” she shot back. “If you come into my room, you belong on the bed.”

 His hand stopped a few inches from her groin, as if he were still asking permission. When she said nothing, she felt his hand slide up the rounding of her pubis, up to her waistband, let out as it was. Peter was glad she wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Warm, soft flesh was so much nicer, even if the leather of her catsuit was almost as nice. That was all she should ever wear. Her leathers or nothing at all.

Felicia trembled as his fingers unzipped her, nearing her sex, and she involuntarily opened her thighs.

His hand moved inside her crotch and he gently cupped her cunt, watching her face all the while. The light was dim, but he could see her biting at her lower lip. He kissed her again and was amazed at the frenzy of her mouth; she grunted into his and hunched against his palm. It still shocked him sometimes, how she wanted him, really wanted him.

He took his hand from her womanhood and grasped the bottom of her shirt with both hands. She instinctively raised both arms to let him pull the garment up and over her head. She looked maddeningly erotic with her platinum blonde hair rumpled and her pendulous breasts trying to squeeze out of a bra that did little more than cover her nipples. He jerked the loops off her shoulders and pulled the bra down to the cinch of her torso between her cleavage and her belly, not unhooking it.

“Lovely,” he said, lowering his face to the hills of soft flesh. Her nipples rose large and hard inside his mouth, first one, then the other. “So lovely.”

While he suckled on her breast, his hands unbuckled her belt. “Stand up,” he said, lingering on her cleavage for one last kiss.

Without a word, Felicia got to her feet, and he quickly pulled her trousers down her legs. Her panties were nothing more than a silken strand around her hips holding up a tiny patch of sheer gauze that barely covered her labia. He bit his lip at her beauty and reached out, one hand gripping her ass, the other sliding between her legs. Felicia whimpered while he caressed the fabric tightly into her sex, acclimating her to its touch before simply ripping the panties away. Then he touched her with his bare hand and Felicia couldn’t stop herself from coming.

She was keening, breathing hard, barely able to stop herself from crying out as her pussy clenched on the barest nothing of his touch, warm rushes rebounding on nothing, God, she needed him inside her, needed him to stabilize her if she was going to feel this good—

“Does it feel nice when I do that?” Peter asked her, his other hand gripping her hip to steady her as her eyes rolled back in her head. “It does, doesn’t it? Yeah, I know how my hand feels on your cunt. Get on the bed. We’ll see if we can’t make you regret going first—just a little bit.”

Felicia’s mouth dropped in a strangled whimper. “Do your worst, Spider.”

As he followed her to the sumptuous black bed, reflected in a ceiling mirror that was like a skylight to a starless night, he glanced over at the watching Mary Jane. The wildly excited look on her face highlighted her beauty. She was even more gorgeous aroused. It made her eyes into something out of a detective novel.

Peter sat Felicia down on the bed. Then he began to weave, looping weblines around her wrists. He did the same for her ankles, twice between her legs, avoiding her sex. Under her arms. Then he started meticulously sticking weblines directly to her body, scrutinizing her for the right place to put them before he did.

Then he jumped to the ceiling, where he stuck their other ends, not all in one place, but in a circle around the mirror. They were thick, gnarled ropes of webbing, and he carefully pulled a thread from each, plying them back down with him as he came back to Earth. Then he began to pull on them.

“Oh wow!” Felica said, as she was slowly lifted off the bed, Peter extremely careful to distribute her weight over all the lines. He plucked at those on her ankles, and her legs were opened, pulled to either side. “Peter! This is crazy!”

Her hands were pulled above her head, straightening her upper body. She swung gently to and fro in the air, unable to control her movements. And like he was holding a bundle of balloons, Peter took the strings one by one and stuck them to the bedframe in various locations, holding Felicia up as if he’d been cranking on a pulley.

Peter laid down on the bed underneath her, lowering his fly to let out a throbbing erection. Felicia stared down at that huge hard-on as if it held her spellbound. She licked her lips, simply wanting it, not even thinking, just wanting. She wanted the taste of man on her tongue, she wanted the feel of that virile manhood hot and hard against her lips.

Her pussy was directly above Peter’s cockhead. She was pulled wide in a split. All Peter would have to do to fuck her would be to lower her a little. And with the webs holding her up, he could do exactly that.

Peter reached to the side and plucked webbing like violin strings. Felicia moaned—with her hands high over her head, the weblines biting neatly into her wrists, she couldn’t tumble over and relieve the intense pressure on her sex. Being held stricken like this sent ripples of defiance all the way up into her cunt, making it throb and convulse with more power than she had ever felt before. She knew that if Peter would just feed himself into her cunt, that she would give it a massage like it had never known.

She groaned again as she was lowered onto Peter’s cock. The prick wasn’t in quite the right place. It went skittering along her juicy labia and dug into her asshole before escaping. She felt the hot shaft trembling between the cheeks of her ass.

“You’re going to get it,” Mary Jane said. “God, are you gonna get it…”

Felicia tried to shift the weight around her hips a little and relieve the discomfort of this awkward position. The only way she could do it was by pulling hard on the webbing around her wrists. That took some of the pressure off her legs, but she couldn’t support herself that way for very long.

Yet, that was when Peter surprised her by lowering her onto his cock.

The shock that went through her was thrillingly unexpected. She thought she had discovered everything when it came to sex. She was dead wrong. The way she was held apart by the weblines on her ankles made her cunt feel impossibly small, and Peter’s cock felt equally monstrous as it reamed into her.

“Mmmmm, oh!” she cried out, letting go with her hands and taking his cock even deeper, so deep it hurt virginally, but she forgot the pain in her pleasure. Felicia tensed and relaxed the walls of her pussy around the throbbing, virile penetration. She could feel his pubic hair against her turgid labia. They were softening as her juices leaked out, dribbling down the shaft of Peter’s cock.

Felicia opened her eyes and looked down at Peter. The expression on his face mirrored hers. He had been right to try this. As long as his prick remained all the way up inside her, she was happy. Rocking from side to side brought new excitement, so much excitement she could hardly bear it.

She was dangling from the weblines like the pendulum of a clock. Swinging caused her to spin around, his manhood rubbing erotically against her folds. Tensing and relaxing her sex even produced a yelp of pleasure from Peter. He smiled and nodded to her, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“MJ,” Peter said, calling her over with his tone. “Now for the real fun.”

Mary Jane took hold of some weblines that he motioned her to, carefully securing her grip as Peter held Felicia with other weblines. Then Mary Jane pulled as hard as she could.

Felicia cried out in protest, feeling the cock slide from her. Tensing up as much as she could, she still couldn’t stop the retreat of his thick cock from her womanhood. Peter slipped from her pussy amid a lewd sucking noise, yet the friction was so intense that Felicia felt as if he were still inside her, thrusting into her.

“You’re not through yet!” Mary Jane cried, and jogged her arms up, releasing a length of the weblines. With her weight mostly unsupported, Felicia dipped back down. She screamed, unsure what was happening, and smashed down hard on Peter’s cock. Her entire body convulsed with the motion. She might have come. She didn’t know. She had blacked out for a few seconds, in that roller coaster dive of sensation. When she regained her senses, she knew what was going on. Mary Jane was lifting her up again.

Peter was letting Mary Jane decide how she was fucked. Felicia was being guided solely by her whim. MJ could give her intense pleasure by allowing her to keep Peter buried deep inside her, or she could rob Felicia of all pleasure by pulling hard on the weblines, suspending her over Peter’s cock.

Mary Jane did both with equal glee.

Felicia could only watch and feel the changes in her body, alternately deprived and force-fed. She began breathing faster. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest. The blood racing through her veins made her flush. And her entire body felt like one raw nerve ending waiting to be electrified.

MJ repeatedly lowered her so that Peter’s cock shot all the way into her. Twisting as much as she could, Felicia managed to rub her clit against his length. She spun around the cock inside her, the rotating pleasure unlike anything she had ever felt before. Peter had his hands behind his head, relaxing as he stared up at her taking his cock.

“Love your cock so much!” Felicia moaned. “Love it so much!”

He pitched his hips upward and she came, surging up into the air, sure she was blasting off into orbit. But it was just Mary Jane pulling her up and away from Peter’s lovely prick.

“My turn,” Mary Jane said. “Hold her, tiger.”

She worked the weblines over to Peter, who obligingly took them from her, holding Felicia effortlessly at the height Mary Jane had left her at. Then Mary Jane grabbed Felicia physically by the hips and forced her down on Peter’s cock, the restraining weblines jerking on her ankles and wrists, but Felicia barely noticing the pain as she was fucked up and down so much harder than simple gravity had done.

“Oh God!” she screamed, tossing her head wildly from side to side. “Jesus, Mary Jane, Jesus, you’re fucking me with him! You’re fucking him with me!”

“Come,” Mary Jane ordered her. “You came for him, now come for me!”

Felicia felt the swift lash of Mary Jane’s palm cross her buttocks. Again and again her open hand landed on Felicia’s tensed, taut globes, then Mary Jane abruptly changed tack, circling around to Felicia’s front to violently enter her pussy, fingering it, thrumming her clit with her thumb. Felicia blacked out from the influx of pleasure on the heels of such shocking pain.

When she came to again, she was still dangling from the web, Peter’s cock firmly lodged inside her. Her asscheeks burned from Mary Jane’s spanking, but the redness was warming her, making her come totally alive. The pain in her sex from being filled so brutally was eased by the wondrous satisfaction echoing in her impossibly warm clit. She was in heaven.

Felicia hunched up and down in an attempt to get more of that beautiful cock inside her before Mary Jane lifted her up into the air again. She almost succeeded.

“You want his cock?” MJ asked sweetly. “Peter… give her your cock.”

Around Peter’s middle finger was wrapped one strand of webbing. Peter simply had to jangle it and Felicia was moved an infinitesimal amount up, an infinitesimal amount down. It shifted his cock inside her in a way that seemed to hit all her most sensitive spots. She panted helplessly, unable to catch her breath with him fucking her. And he was fucking her, even if it was the smallest amount he could.

“You’re going to come on his cock,” Mary Jane said, running the tips of her fingers along Felicia’s corded muscles, tracing under her full breasts, palming her pregnant stomach. “You’re going to come and come and come. But when he comes, it’s going to be for me.”

Felicia smiled. “And I’m going to lick it out of you, red. I’ll taste both of you at once…”

“I’ll taste you first,” Mary Jane said. Then she bent forward. Her tongue flickered like a candle flame, hot and demanding, along Felicia’s side. She traced one rib until she came to the bast of Felicia’s cleavage, continually moving her head to keep up with how Felicia was jiggling atop Peter’s cock.

Felicia’s skin burned at the surprisingly rough touch of Mary Jane’s tongue. Her breasts turned to gooseflesh. She trembled all over. When Mary Jane raked her tongue across the heaving dome of Felicia’s belly, she came again, shuddering and moaning and crying out for more.

Mary Jane didn’t stop with the outie her belly button had become. Her tongue went even lower. She dragged it through the tangled mat of white pubic hair before going to her cunt. Felicia was being effectively fucked by her ride on Peter’s cock, but the added sensation of Mary Jane’s tongue brought her off all over again.

When Mary Jane’s mouth moved lower, her tongue dragging along the edges of Felicia’s wine-dark labia, she found herself screaming and thrashing about in mid-air. She couldn’t help herself. The feelings inside her were too intense to deny. Her joints panged and she knew they would be sore as hell in the morning, but it would be worth it. Anything would be worth it. Peter made her feel more like a woman than any other man—and Mary Jane made her feel even more like a woman.

She came for both of them. She just kept coming.

She hardly noticed when Peter tugged hard on her reins, dragging her off his cock and away from Mary Jane’s mouth. Her body still sung with the feel of their bodies as she hung suspended in the air, above Peter as Mary Jane interposed herself between them, throwing her leg over Peter’s body, straddling his cock, impaling herself just as Felicia had been. But Mary Jane was far wetter. She was able to take his cock to the root in one go. She came just as easily.

“I wanna be like Felicia,” Mary Jane husked, riding Peter frantically, knowing he had switched them out because he was about to come but not willing for him to just let himself come for her, wanting to force it out of him, to make him ejaculate as he’d wanted to do desperately for Felicia. He’d held himself back for the cat burglar. She didn’t want him to be able to do that for her. “I want to give you a child. Let me give you a child. Let me have it inside me! Put it inside me!”

It had hurt when she took his gigantic cock so quickly, but it was a delicious hurt, an awe-inspiring flash of sexual pleasure that stung with intensity. She thought she was going to pass out and she probably would’ve if she hadn’t been so receptive, her pussy made so loose and soft. Still, the fit of his fully planted prick and her small, snug cunt was incredibly tight.

“Ahh, goddamn!” Peter groaned, shuddering, and then he began grunting his explosions.

“Aaaah!” Mary Jane squealed, letting Peter feel another push of her juices against his loins. Perhaps she was still coming, perhaps she had come again.

Torrents of his white-hot cum gushed into her, filling her pussy where his prick couldn’t go. It washed down the stretched walls of her cunt and oozed out in a white wave past the tight connection of their loins. The inundation came just when Mary Jane’s climax was fading, and it thrilled her to the core of her being to have Peter’s cum bathing her from the inside.

The force of the pulsing jets from his organ plunged her headlong into another orgasm, and its intensity dwarfed the one preceding it. Her legs flopped jerkily about. She screamed with the agony, the ecstasy of this heart-stopping climax. Her head flew back nearly to her spine and she threw her arms down to Peter. He caught her hands and gripped them tightly, fingers interlocked, helping her ride out her orgasm.

“Ohhhh, yes! Peter! Shoot it innnn! Come, baby, commmme! I am! I’m going off again! Oh God, Peter Parker… I’m cccoommiinnnggg!”

Locked together, clasping cunt and firing cock, they trembled with the sheer satisfaction of completing each other. Clung desperately to one another, riding out the fulfillment of their simultaneous orgasm. When the heat of their shared moment had passed, Peter eased Mary Jane off him, slipping his limbering rod from her whitewashed hole, and released Felicia from her bonds, lowering her gently to his lap.

“God, Peter. The way you fucked me… you barely let me stop coming…”

Wrapping an arm around her, Peter backed up on the bed, reclining against the headboard and pulling Felicia onto his lap with him. His hand brushed against her nipple and he noticed a bead of white on it. He licked it and was surprised at the taste of milk.

“Sorry,” Felicia said reflexively, crossing her arms over her breasts. “Sometimes when I get all tense and… I buzz… it just sorta happens for me.”

“Does it feel bad?” Peter asked her. “Nice? What?”

“It’s a bit of a relief, honestly. Sometimes it’s like I’m being pinched from the inside out, when I move too fast, and if I use a breast pump, I don’t have to worry about it.” Felicia shook her head. “Enough talk. I don’t want to gross you out. C’mon, it’s Ana’s turn now…”

“I think we need to take a minute,” Peter said. “And what better thing to do in that minute then to help you totally relax? MJ, come over here.”

Mary Jane lifted her head sluggishly from the mattress. “Holy smokes, tiger—there’s just something about us when we do it hard and fast. I do like long and hard, but just having you slam it into me, fucking use me like that…” She shook her head. “If that’s your idea of a quickie, you can pull me into a closet anytime!”

“Maybe later. We’re still doing afterplay with Cat right now.”

“Mmmm.” Mary Jane pulled herself on all fours over to them. “What is it you said, Felicia? You’d eat his cum out of my snatch? I’d sit on your face, but I think my feet have fallen asleep. Has Peter ever fucked you that hard or is it just me?”

“MJ, here,” Peter insisted, hoisting one of Felicia’s heavy breasts. “Wanna try this new drink I invented?”

“Pretty sure you didn’t invent it. And that you can’t mix it with alcohol, so what kind of crappy drink—“

Peter reached behind Mary Jane’s head, pulling her to Felicia’s breast, and Mary Jane obediently sucked, as she had a hundred times before. This time, a taste of milk swelled up in her mouth. It hit her tongue oddly, surprising her, but she swallowed, and after that the milk flowed and she drank it down at a steady pace and something about the warmth and the regularity and the smoothness and the undemanding taste conspired to relax her. Peter had been right. It was nice to stop and rest for a moment, after what their lust had demanded of them and received. It turned the night into a marathon rather than a sprint.

Peter looked to Ana in the doorway, watching almost diligently. So silent it was easy to forget about her. “Ana. Room for one more.”

Ana came into the room, climbed onto the bed, laid down beside Mary Jane and sucked dutifully at Felicia’s other breast. She moaned as the taste hit her tongue, and extravagantly unclenched as Peter petted her hair, her taut back muscles, cajoling her into relaxation. Felicia caressed her as well, until Peter took his hands away and put them on Felicia’s belly, gently rubbing his palms over the exceedingly smooth contours of her pregnancy.

“Nnnnnn,” Felicia whined, resting her head back on Peter’s shoulder, trying to not have any profound thoughts about this position. Her resting in Peter’s arms, Mary Jane and Ana sprawling on her, sucking on her, all of it seeming like they should be getting an elbow in the eye, but instead they found a kind of equilibrium…

“Oh, you bastards…” she said. “Now I’m going to get horny every time the baby’s hungry.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to fuck you,” Peter told her, “every time you breastfeed.”

She felt the pressure go, drop by sumptuous drop, leeching the tension out of the rest of her body. Her arms became heavy, leaden, and it was all she could do to lift them over her head and around Peter’s neck before she went totally limp.

“P-peter Parker…” she managed weakly. “You really know how to pamper a girl.”

“Never tried that move before. Just want to make sure you’re not left with any aches and pains.”

“Really? Never?” Felicia asked. “I thought you and Mary Jane were up for anything…”

Mary Jane left a lingering kiss on Felicia’s white-tipped nipple before raising her head. “Never thought of it, I suppose. I guess I don’t like being that passive.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s different when I’m webbed down and I can pull at it, fight against it, but not really do anything.” She smiled, a tad abashed, as if she couldn’t believe she was discussing this even among two naked women and her husband. “Not that I’m really into bondage or anything—“

“Uh-huh. Tell that to the handprints on my ass.”

“It’s different with Peter,” Mary Jane insisted, reaching down to scratch lovingly at Peter’s hip under Felicia’s body. She licked up a dribbling drop from Felicia’s nipple, and Felicia shuddered in response. “He’s just so… sweet. Not at all angry or bitter. When he gets rough, it’s just like he’s so eager to make me feel good, he can’t even wait. He just has to make me come, no matter what he has to bend me over…” Mary Jane lost herself in a nervous giggle, ducking her head to hide her smile. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m not used to talking about this stuff… it seems realer with the ring around your finger, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Felicia agreed, looking into Peter’s eyes as he played with her hair. “I didn’t think it would, but before, it was a little like we were kids playing house. Now it’s real. It’s going to last. We’re going to have kids…”

“You’re going to be a great mother,” Peter told her, gently ushering Mary Jane back to her suckling.

Felicia closed her eyes as the redhead resumed, as Peter exerted a restful pressure on her belly with the palms of both hands. It was just about the lightest possible touch for her to really feel, but it made her feel a little like wearing a seatbelt on a bumpy ride.

Peter kissed the side of Felicia’s neck, right under her ear. “I’ve seen the way you take care of what’s yours. The people you love. I think when the baby’s born, he’s just gonna be yours. He’s going to be so yours we’ll have to pry him out of your arms.”

“Which we probably won’t do,” Mary Jane said, resting her head on Felicia’s breast now as the trickle of milk slowed.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to fight you to love that baby as much as you do. And the way you’re so meticulous and careful when you plan a job? That’s how you’re going to be about picking out his school and buying him clothes and fixing him meals. And how you’re so impulsive and spontaneous out on the streets? That’s how you’ll be when he wants to play a game or go exploring. You’re just going to be right, Cat. I can tell by looking at you.” Peter kissed her again as he roved his hands over her stomach more, Mary Jane doing the same with one hand as well, pushing softly inward as if trying to signal the baby. “You and that great big belly of yours look just perfect.”

Ana took her mouth off Felicia’s teat, laying her head down on her belly instead, and Mary Jane laughed as Felicia’s breathing gently raised Ana up and down.

“You’re already a mother,” Peter said. “And you already look so sexy and so loving and God, Goddamn, I never would’ve guessed this could be you. I never would’ve guessed this could be me. But I wouldn’t want anything else. The child me and Mary Jane are trying for? It’s because I want to have with her what I have with you. I want our kid to have a brother who’s just as amazing as he is. Or, wait, was it a sister?”

“As long as you rub my belly and talk validation at me, I’m fine either way,” Mary Jane said.

“And, mmm…” Felicia managed to extricate her fingers from each other, reaching them out a few inches to toy with the hair at the back of Peter’s neck. “What about after we put the babies to bed? What do mommy and daddy do then?”

“Then?” Peter leaned down to Felicia’s ear. “Then you’re my little cum-slut.”

“Jesus, Spider…”

Peter’s whisper continued. “And I’ll let you get away with not eating my cum out of MJ’s cunt this time. But after the baby comes, I’ll feed it to you if I have to open her legs and hold your face down in her thighs.”

“Oh dear,” Mary Jane said. “Felicia’s blushing. Who would’ve thought a black cat could do that?”

“He’s dirty,” Felicia replied. “You can’t tell when he has the glasses on, but he is so dirty.”

“And who’s fault is that, Double-D?” Mary Jane asked, yawning. “I think I’ve earned a little nap. Wake me when it’s Ana’s turn.” She gave Felicia’s breast one last little kiss. “Wake me however you want…”