The Black Spider update (Patreon)

Jean Grey ran her hands up and down her body, feeling the silken skin, touching the small nipples on her ironically full breasts. She tossed her long gleaming red hair out of her face and over her shoulder to study her features—bright green eyes with heavy dark lashes, a turned-up nose, a full sensual mouth. She smiled contentedly. She always tried to look good for Peter, and if he was sending a replacement, then she would try her best to make a good first impression for him. But not try too hard… she wasn’t desperate or anything…

She’d gone to the X-Men’s permanently reserved suite at the Waldorf Astoria, where she always kept her rendezvouses with Peter, but she was dressed down, casual, letting her natural beauty shine through instead of her fashion sense. Her telepathy registered thoughts of her at a surface level, like hearing her name spoken in a crowded room, and she fluffed her hair before going to the window. Her breasts heaved provocatively inside her thin, tight dress, making an attractive picture as she went to let ‘Spider-Man’ in.

“Hi,” she said, lifting the sash. “You must be the new kid.”

Miles smiled at her, dazzlingly, from outside the window. “Well, the name isn’t Spider-Kid.”

“Of course,” Jean said. “Peter’s told you about our… arrangement?” She leaned against the windowsill. 

“He mentioned something about you having a lot of tension in your life and needing a release—“

“And not being able to get it back home,” Jean finished. “It would turn into a soap opera. But a little fling now and then when I’m in the city…”

She straightened, pushing her chest out just enough to emphasize the sweet roundness of her breasts and the hardness of her nipples. She ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it once more, and batted her eyelashes in a come-on.

From Miles’s surface thoughts, she could tell he was coming on just fine.

“I’m Miles,” he said, limberly moving through the open window now that Jean had left him an opening. 

“Miles of what, I wonder,” Jean teased. She glanced down at the lower part of his costume, seeing the material clinging to the shape of his member, outlining it with breathtaking clarity. Jean felt her knees growing weak. She had never felt in need of a good hard fucking quite as much as she did right now. “How about a drink? I bet you’re thirsty, on such a hot day…”

“Yeah, I am, a little.”

Jean went to the kitchen, where she got a Coke out of the refrigerator and handed it to Miles. She sat down as he opened it, kicking her shoes off. “It’s hot in here too,” she said, undoing her tan stockings and peeling them down from underneath her dress. Miles watched in fascination as the hose came away from her long white legs. “And I’m sure it’s not comfortable in that tight suit. Why don’t you get comfortable?”

“Show me how comfortable I should get,” Miles said, taking another sip that he then choked on. Evidently he was more nervous than he was showing.

“You don’t have to put on a bold face for me,” Jean said. “I am psychic, you know.”

“Really? What am I thinking?”

Jean just smiled. She peeled off her dress, leaving her body attired in only her garter belt and her bra. Jean could feel his eager eyes going from her well-filled bra to her gleaming bush of ginger hair. She herself licked her lips as she watched his manhood, large even when flaccid, now become rigidly erect—and even bigger.

“I know that costume’s tight, but I doubt it would make a good condom,” Jean said, stripping off her garter belt. “Take off that costume and get that big thing inside of me!”

As Miles obligingly peeled himself out of his costume, Jean removed her bra, dropping its black length to the floor to add another note of disharmony to her garters already littering the white carpet. The room was Emma’s, and furnished entirely to her taste, but that had its advantages.

She wanted to leave Frost’s picture-perfect penthouse in disarray, reeking of sex, just like Emma had done to her marriage. Walking up to Miles, she eagerly grabbed hold of his rigidness and gave it a squeeze to confirm that touching was most definitely on the table. Miles returned the favor, his hands exploring the naked curves of her breasts with a look of intense enjoyment on his face.

“I’m surprised you’ve managed to spare time for an old gal like me,” Jean said. She ran her hand up and down his shaft, feeling it throb harder and harder. “With a cock like this, you should be beating off the schoolgirls with a stick.”

“Maybe I have a thing for older women.”

“A taste, would you say?” Jean grinned as she let go of Miles and sat down in one of Emma’s elegant, avant-garde chairs. She spread her legs. “Enjoy your taste, Miles.”

He’d been as ready as she was. He was on her almost as soon as her thighs opened.

Miles dipped his tongue in and out of Jean’s sex. She leaned back, raising her pussy up in offering as she massaged her own swelling breasts. Miles joined her in that, putting one possessive hand on her right breast and squeezing as his mouth continued sending blissful pulses through Jean’s body.

She looked down in ecstasy, even loving the focused look on his face as Miles concentrated on her pleasure. He had her cunt spread open, his tongue laving up and down her glimmering pinkness. As Jean gasped and cried out, he pushed his tongue deep into her, and she moaned and squirmed and swore, her juices flowing over his exploring tongue.

“Eat me!” she mewled. “Eat my hot little pussy!”

Miles moved his lips to her upper thigh, taking a short break from her pussy to nibble on the sensitive flesh surrounding her womanhood. Jean went wild, trembling as his left hand rubbed over her groin, while her own hands stayed with his right, caressing the expanse of cleavage that ecstatically responded to their shared touch. 

He snaked a finger inside of her, pushing it in and out to her G-spot, until Jean was shaking with arousal. She was sopping wet, and when he went back to tonguing her, she got even wetter. It was obvious hers wasn’t the first pussy he’d ever eaten, and she was glad to have the benefit of his expertise.

Miles reached down to his burgeoning erection, before deciding it was ridiculous to grope himself when Jean was here. Effortlessly, he rearranged himself to be lying on the armrest of Jean’s chair, his manhood pointed at her, while his head stayed down at her pussy. 

She took his member in her fist eagerly. The blood pounded through its length as she slid her hand over it, precum starting to leak onto her fingers. Jean smirked as they fell between her fingers onto the upholstery. She wondered if Emma would be able to notice in all the white.

She squeezed just under the bulbous crown, feeling the wetness slide down from it. Her throat was dry, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long with him in her mouth, and she was aching to show him her own expertise. She stroked his prick harder, licking her lips, watching as it got bigger and bigger.

His mouth closed around her clitoris, sucking on it with an intensity that was both painful and delicious. His finger pushed deeper, more forcefully, into her sex, and Jean howled with her pleasure, her need. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she gasped out. “Will you let me suck your dick or are you going to have all the fun?”

Miles grabbed hold of the chair handle and yanked it firmly, dropping Jean back as her support disappeared. He laid himself down on her now prone body, his hard cock over her face. She took it in both hands, worshipping it with all her stroking fingers, moving its tip down to her hard nipples and rubbing its heat against them. With her elbows, Jean pushed her breasts together, allowing Miles to fuck back and forth between them with slow, sensuous thrusts.

For once, Jean wished she had bigger tits, like Emma’s. She would’ve loved to smother his cock the way Emma did with her men, licking the cockheads on their oversized shafts as they protruded from her cleavage. Miles’s was doing that now, but it wasn’t the same, with him facing the wrong way. Still, she leaned forward, tongue out, to lap at his balls. The hot velvet feel of his hairy scrotum made her tongue tingle. She trapped his cock in her hands and jacked him off while she fed his balls into her mouth, sucking to the point of gargling.

Miles pulled at her clit with his lips and laved it with his tongue. He thrust his cock as if trying to break free of his stroking hands, which only made Jean suck harder on his balls. She gagged, but she couldn’t stop sucking, too greedy, too turned on. She wanted all of him. In fact, she wanted more.

Saliva was running down her chin when she drew back. “It tastes so good—I want to know if it feels good too. I want to know if it feels good inside me. Fuck my pussy, Miles, baby…”

He pulled away from her, doing a quick handspring to land in front of the chair. His erection stood out in front of him, the cockhead rampaging on the end of his fully extended shaft. The cleft was parted and already a drop of precum trickled down the knob, while her glistening saliva painted his bloated balls as they hung down between his thighs.

Jean could only open her legs wide once more. Once she had him inside her, there was no way she was letting him out.

***

There was no way they were letting him out. Anatoly saw the last layer of security revolve shut behind him. He was now on the main floor of the Raft, where tier after tier of cells held the worst metahumans offenders in the States, with the remaining security focused on keeping them depowered so that they could be easily corralled and stored. The majority of the Raft’s security measures were around them now, focused on keeping the outside world out and everything inside in.

There was no longer any need for his patience, his forbearance with all the examinations and procedures. He let his rage and frustration boil over, becoming huge and uncontrollable.

And green.

***

Ten minutes later, Jean was screaming as Miles’s prick was shoved home inside her. It felt like a tree trunk going into her cunt, thrusting into her depths, ravaging her completely. She kicked her feet high into the air, all she could do as he plundered her body from her burgeoning clit to very nearly her womb.

Miles leaned over her, trapping her nipple in his teeth. He pulled until the skin drew taut, holding onto it with dug-in teeth as his prick traveled to the furthest part of her pussy on each thrust, the redhead bouncing and writhing beneath him as her body tried to withstand the pounding he was giving her.

He was fucking her so good, Jean was actually worried Emma would try to take him away from her.

As if responding to the mere thought of the White Queen, Miles began fucking her harder, faster, really slamming his prick into Jean. She wrapped her legs around his hips and tried to hang on, his tautly muscled belly rubbing against hers with each pumping thrust. She moaned from deep in her body, where the friction of his plowing cockhead was burning hot, and felt her climax building in her from her pussy to her womb. 

Would he get as sweet, as hot, as tight a fuck from Emma? Jean doubted it, her body rippling, her cunt sucking up and down the length of his cock. She wanted to be the best fuck he’d ever had, and on that thought, she came, screaming.

“Oh, shiiiitttt!” she cried, tightening her legs to draw his cock even deeper into her. She charged her hips up to meet his thrusts, her cunt pulling tight around his member. Her clit was lit up like a neon sign, her mind and reddening body both broadcasting her ecstasy, and Miles’s unprepared mind found itself on her wavelength. 

Joining in her orgasm, he released his load, which only intensified Jean’s climax as she felt his boiling seed fill her cunt. Miles shared in that growing climax, which made him come harder, ejaculating more and more into her, until it overflowed Jean’s pussy and spilled out in a puddle on the seat cushion below her. In a haze of unthinking, animal bliss, Jean still thought of Emma sitting in such a mess. Would she mind? Her barely-there panties tended to be white.

“Who’s Emma?” Miles asked.

“Huh?”

Miles drew himself out of her, causing more of his semen to slosh out of her expanded pussy, and Jean’s eyes fluttered in almost a miniature orgasm as she felt the shift in her tender womanhood. “You said Emma when you were…” Miles sheepishly realized this might not be the best thing to bring up as pillow talk. “You know…”

Jean closed her eyes. She hadn’t been thinking about Emma during sex. She hadn’t. “Shouldn’t you be moving along?” She scanned the city’s psychic din, perking up a bit perversely as she picked up a disaster in process. There was nothing like the threat level being raised to put a definitive end to a fling. “There’s a prison break-out on the Raft. Lots of your old buddies giving themselves an early release.”

“Oh, man!” Miles sighed, realizing she was serious. He ran to gather his costume, wondering if Peter ever had luck this bad. Then he remembered Jean was still there. “I’ll, uh—let’s do this again if the P-man’s still gone. I had a great time!”

“Me too,” Jean said, blowing him a kiss, grateful to end their encounter on a less snippy note. 

She wasn’t wholly satisfied—Peter tended to fuck her three or four times before they called it a night—but it wasn’t bad for a first time.

Miles had given her a lot to think about.