Spider-Man: Rebirth - Chapter 22

Just as Peter was about to fall asleep, his phone rang. With a groan that sounded something like “What now?” he rolled over and picked up his phone. “Hello?”

On the other end of the line, Natasha grinned. “Hey, Mr. Parker~ I know I didn’t schedule an appointment, but do you think you could fit me in? Or maybe, fit in me?~”

Peter gulped. ‘Adjust to the sudden power increases I have, or fuċk a redhead super spy who sounds like she has a roleplay kink…option B sounds real good.’ He grinned. “It’s no problem, Miss Romanoff. I have time for one more appointment, overnight. You’re lucky it was open, or you would’ve had to be a sit-in for a different client~” He pushed a buŧŧon on the bottom of his nightstand to unlock his office.

What greeted him was redheaded Natasha Romanoff in a too-tight secretary suit and obvious lingerie underneath. He gulped again, having forgotten for a bit that she was a spy who sometimes seduced people for a living. And she was good at it.

Peter usually slept shirtless. Natasha, having a script all ready for the foreplay of innuendo leading to the main event, completely forgot it upon realizing he was already half nȧkėd. She chucked her fake clipboard across the room and kicked off her heels.

(I’M CALLING IT HERE. BEWARE YOUR EYES AND SENSIBILITIES)

30 seconds later, she was straddling Peter, wearing nothing but her lacy black lingerie and glasses that she didn’t need. Her body was forward, pressed against him, while her head was up, pŀėȧsurė on her face as he suċkėd and nibbled along her neck. His hands found her backside and gave a very high-quality booty rub. With a very quick movement, Nat almost ripped off the top of her lingerie, tossing it aside to let her bȯȯbs free to squish against his ċhėst.

Rolling, Peter positioned himself on top and began administering the appetizer of the night, pinching and flicking her nɨppŀės and leaving hickeys across her neck and collarbone. Moving his hands far lower, he began suċkɨnġ and nibbling around her nɨppŀės, his hands working their way under the waistband of the lower part of her lingerie. Satisfied with the state he’d left her in up top, he dragged off her pȧntɨės and affixed an imaginary bib around his neck.

Nat was very proud of her grooming and her hygiene. A super spy needs to be able to fit in literally anything. That allure is something she was required to attain. Thusly, she was obligated to be as attractive as possible to her targets if she had to use her seduction tactics. Peter knew relatively what being a spy like that took, so he was very unsurprised to find a very shaved pussƴ before his eyes. He was almost disappointed in the lack of at least a landing strip, but who was he to complain? He was quick to work with his tongue, generously dragging up her slit with a small linger at what he found to be her ċŀɨt. He kept this pattern for a couple minutes until he stopped goofing off, bringing his sticky fingers to occupy her ċŀɨt while ramming his tongue into her finally.

Nat, gripping his hair with one hand, was biting the knuckle of her other index finger, failing magnificently at quieting her mȯȧns. Peter kept up his ministrations until she pressed his face as far into her as she could, mȯȧning out his name as she came.

With a grin, Peter dragged his tongue up her body as he moved up to kiss her panting face. She recovered quickly though, smirking. “You’ve had your fun. Now I have mine~” As superhuman as he is, he was unable to block her wrestling ability from rolling them back over so she was on top. She dragged her fingers down his chiseled ċhėst and abs, as expected from a superhuman Spider-Man, and teasingly lifted the waistband of his sweatpants with her nails. Smiling up at him, she dragged them off to be met with his c o c k, very erect and very ready for stuff to go down. She knew the human anatomy well, including how nerves in different parts of the body work. Consequently, she had the usually dominant Peter mewling and mȯȧning as she licked specific points on hid c o c k and suċkėd on his swelled balls as she jacked him off a little. She knew what spots to hit, so it was only a matter of time before she felt him twitch, deepthroating him down thanks to her absence of a gag reflex, and receiving his load of white, sticky ċum straight down her gullet. With a pop and a gasp, she let his c o c k free, saliva and strings of ċum connecting her to the glistening member.

(Now I actually write the ending, *gasp*)

Straddling him again, relishing in his shocked face but surprised at the lack of sweat on his face, she rocked her hɨps back to rub him against her tight snatch. He grinned, slightly lifting her up and then dropping her down onto him, penetrating in one go. She suppressed an almost immediate mȯȧn, continuing to rock her hɨps up and down his shaft to meet his slow but deep thrusts upward. rolling again, he laid her on her back and webbed her wrists to the headboard of his bed, slamming into her. She was sterile, so there wasn’t an ounce of danger when he stopped thrusting after roughly 2 hours of changing positions and rough slamming to unload into her, holding her up as she was bent over. He let go of her hair and let her fall to the bed. He was mildly spent and very satisfied. She was exhausted and had ċum dripping from her quivering snatch. Peter helped her walk to the shower, where he helped her wash up and then laid her on his couch. He changed his sheets and they went to bed, spent and likely very sore in the morning.