Catsuit Part 2 (Patreon)

He knew the building, darkened windows that tinted everything they reflected with a heavy shade. Tonight, their smoky glass reflecting the snowfall outside, he was reminded of Felicia’s shiny vinyl. His eyes leapt over the building, counting the floors to the 21st, and then he rocketed up it, barely feeling the chilled floor-to-ceiling glass under his thin gloves. Her room was easy to find. The window was open, curtains riding the breeze from outside. Inside, Felicia had her back to him, but this time he immediately assumed she was aware of him.

“It’s not smart, giving out your home address to strangers. Imagine if I’d been on the internet.”

“This isn’t my home. It’s just a hotel room that no one’s checked into. Champagne?” She turned, bubbling champagne saucers held in each hand, at chest level. Obvious, but that appealed to him on some level. She made no secret of what she was doing. She did everything but say it out loud.

“You should return that diamond. It doesn’t fit with your motif.”

“I’ll give it to a friend of mine. He likes them. I’m sure he’ll trade me some fur. And a few million dollars.” She sipped one glass, holding the other out to him. A sudden gust of wind from outside pressed against Peter’s spine, sending a tingle through him. “What? Are you going to take me in, Spider? Tie me up? Leave me… helpless to resist you? You don’t need your goop to do what you want with me…”

“Maybe I’m already seeing someone.”

“Maybe.” She kept the full glass pointed at him like a gun while she finished hers off. It was becoming off-putting. “You can’t run around in a skintight suit for very long and not get offers, believe me, I know. So tell me, is it that pathetic little bint who calls herself a blonde? The one you’re always saving? With the flat ass? The teensy little tits? She can’t hold onto you. I can tell just by looking at her. She doesn’t have what it takes to keep a man like you satisfied.”

She tossed her empty glass over her shoulder. It shattered and Peter jumped. Felicia advanced on him, light pouring over her black-clad curves.

“I always get what I want, Spider, even if it doesn’t belong to me. You’re no different.”

He could smell her, one of those fragrances that was such a complicated mélange of scents that he couldn’t ever untangle it. Beneath it, only the scent of the vinyl—strangely erotic, thinking it was the only thing touching her. The only thing but him. Something inside him was preventing Peter from saying no to her, from doing anything. More than any of the criminals he had captured, he was a fly in a spider’s web, transfixed, paralyzed, knowing that struggling would only imprison him more tightly.

Felicia wrapped herself around him, her flesh seeming to merge with his, the vinyl catsuit so thin and at once such a boundary. She kissed him, putting her tongue against where the mask covered his mouth, working it sweetly against the raised webbing that covered his costume and licking intimately into the spandex in-between. She rubbed and caressed his body, a sound like static crackling as her costume met his. Her teeth nipped at his throat, the material over his pulse point, pulling it away from his skin and dragging it with her teeth up over his mouth. His dry lips were suddenly revealed and Felicia kissed him there, moaning into his mouth at the exposure.

“Oh, Spider—a white boy, huh? You’re definitely not hung like one.” Her thigh was on the huge erection breaking up the smooth lines of his suit. “Where d’ya wanna touch me, Spider? Here?” She took his left hand away from her face—he’d been holding her as they kissed—and put it on her ass. He stroked it, rubbing the supple cheek which felt even better than it look. “Or here?”

His right hand was redirected to her breast, resting lightly inside its fur-trimmed confinement, playing it. It wobbled deliciously with the tensing and pumping of his fingers, finally slipping out of its prison, revealing the full luxurious curvature of her teat. It was a perfect hill, its teardrop shape clinging tenaciously to her chest, gravity only able to do so much against the overstated sexuality of her.

He squeezed it until Felicia squeaked, then threw himself down on it, mouth seeking to conquer that insurmountable slope. Felicia laughed joyously as his hands worked between her buttocks, their groping pushing her forward against his body, pulling the tightly stretched vinyl at her groin against the bulge of her pubic mound. She felt the warmth of her own dribbling juices rubbing against her. She wanted more. She wanted him to have a taste, a whetting of his prodigious appetite…

Felicia shoved Peter down onto his knees, thrust her crotch into his face. “I want your tongue now, Spider. I’m taking your tongue!”

Peter had a blurry glimpse of the artwork of her cunt, bulging through the thin vinyl, then it was savagely brought against his face. He kissed it strongly, crashing his lips against the moist material, drawing as much of it as he could into his mouth and biting it. He could almost taste her through the thin vinyl, pungent and wild, hear her moan whenever he managed to find her with his questing tongue. The vinyl sunk at his probing, into her vulva as he vainly tried to penetrate her suit.

Abruptly, Felicia turned over, rolling onto all fours with her ass in the air like she wanted him to fuck her doggy-style. “Lick my ass, Spider. I know it looks good enough to eat. Lick it, push that vinyl deep inside my asshole, and you can rub your big cock against my boots while you do it. You won’t get that offer from your little blonde, will you?”

Peter groaned as he gave in. He hated her reminding him of Gwen. It was so easy to forget her when he was so turned on, enjoying this so much. He wouldn’t let himself be derailed from this, though. He shoved his face into Felicia’s ass as hard as he would his cock. Licking at her pussy through the vinyl until he felt her fingers inside her suit. She was reaching down her open, frontal vee, fingering herself as he licked her, and he wondered which of them was fucking her harder.

“My ass, Spider! I want your tongue in it! I want your goddamn tongue in me!”

With a clenched-teeth roar, Peter moved his face upward, to spend a tantalizing eternity on her perineum. The tiny strip of land between anus and cunt was rubbed almost raw from the intensity of his tonguing. He felt, heard her fingers thrust deeper and harder and faster into the creamy cunt just inside her costume. His hands moved down to her feet, steepled between his legs. He picked up one marvelous leg and raised the thigh-boot to his groin, rutting shamelessly against the sturdy leather, the heat and the feel and the knowledge of her making it so much better than his hand.

“Yes, yes!” Felicia moaned, feeling his raging erection insistent against her calf, squirming and moaning with every trip its hardness took toward her thigh. “Oh God fucking yes!”

Inspired, Peter’s tongue moved a half-inch north into the valley of her glorious ass. Felicia sharply took in breath. Peter took one hand away from her leg and moved it to cup her buttocks, spreading one half, baring the tiny pink tightness of her clenched asshole just beneath vinyl. Felicia could feel its separation from the skintight material inside her suit. His tongue rimmed and tickled the vinyl that was supposed to shelter her, pushing it against her little rosebud, conducting electricity that pried gently but determinedly at the very idea of resistance.

“Love me there, too,” Felicia teased, feeling him fuck her leg harder, feeling her tiny hole open and his tongue push the covering vinyl inside her opening. The tongue that was transmitting through it flickered and stabbed, arousing shallow but undeniable sensations in her most sensitive place. She jerked at every motion of his tongue, like he was spanking her with a hairbrush instead of licking her through vinyl. Her asshole was growing hot and her fingers were almost maniacal in masturbating her.

“Oh!” Felicia panted suddenly. He’d covered her asshole with his mouth and was now sucking, the vinyl against her opening feeling like it was on fire. Her body shook and quivered in excitement, responding to his fiendish mouth, and she pushed her ass into the air, against his face like an offering.

They’d formed a sort of tent. Peter kneeling behind her, Felicia with her ass in the air and her face against the floor; yin and yang. Then, Felicia realized she could reach back, between her legs, to him. She could draw the waist of his costume down over his so-hard prick. She could fit it in her hand and rub it, just like his tongue was rubbing her.

“Eat my asshole,” she told him, voice choked, “while I fuck your cock.”

He obeyed, tongue worming into her ass, carrying the vinyl with it. She felt the pulsation beating a tattoo through his hard cock, the river of precum flowing from his cockhead that greased her gloved hand. When she tightened her fist, she could feel his racing pulse chiseling at her palm. She loved it. His size, his hardness, the so-obvious eagerness he showed to get inside her. It was all she could do to get her fist around such a maddened erection, and all his tongue could do to stimulate her asshole’s crushing tautness. She thought her own suit had gone further up her ass than any set of anal beads ever had.

“Oh fuck!” Felicia moaned in private ecstasy. His tongue had felt so good that she’d barely noticed its pleasure transitioning into a full orgasm, but she knew it by the rush of warm juices flowing down her inverted belly, her pussy tightening against his pistoning fingers, her breasts suddenly climbing as she hollered in broadening satisfaction. She was coming and coming and coming and she needed to come, needed more, needed him.

“Fuck my ass!” she ordered, pulling his cock to her, and Peter rushed atop her, mounting her like an animal, fingers ripping at her catsuit as he tried to force a handhold, to get it open, even as she held herself obligingly still and he thrust helplessly against her bubble butt, the vinyl so sleek and warm and even wet with his own saliva. He was dry-humping her, his aching cock harder than ever inside the crack of her ass, Felicia moaning even deeper as she felt it so close but so far away.

“This is,” she panted, “as close as you can get—to my perfect—fucking—ass!”

“Now, Felicia!” Peter grunted. “Right now!”

His cock swelled larger than it ever had before, a monstrous weapon that seemed to dwarf Felicia’s thick ass before it shot, his cum flying to the back of Felicia’s neck. Peter grabbed hold of its base, squeezed, seemed to channel the explosion he felt into load after load blasting from his cock. He fired as far as Felicia’s white hair, and coated the sable-black material over her back and ass with his seed.

Felicia felt the heat of his spurting right through the vinyl, heard his groans as he exorcised himself of all the cum that had gone unused by one Gwen Stacy. She thought she was coming again, knowing this was all for her. The cum that covered her ass flowed down between the abundant cheeks, into the crevice between her legs. Felicia smiled dazedly as she felt the heat of his seed against her pussy, like it was meant to go there, like it wanted to.

Peter came one last time, this final shot landing in a puddle underneath them. Then he fell forward atop Felicia. There was an audible splatter as he landed on a dozen wads of his own seed, but he couldn’t care. He just panted, staying against Felicia’s magnificent body for warm, wonderful minutes as his spunk cooled and congealed.

Felicia breathed deeply as she reached between her legs, fingered the jism slowly running over her crotch, and brought it to her mouth. The man definitely ate enough vegetables…

Peter suddenly stood, the smell of cum obnoxiously thick in his nostrils. He pulled his mask down, his pants up, and Felicia looked over her shoulder at him once more. Her pose now not displaying her body, but the layer of cum that marked it. The same cum covering the front of Peter’s costume like a camouflage pattern.

“Explain that to blondie,” Felicia teased.