In Every World, In Every Story epilogue (Patreon)

Reed and the kids fixing the multiverse. Johnny off with the Inhumans. Ben a Guardian of the Galaxy. There simply wasn’t much for Sue Storm to fill her days with. They were doing all they could to maintain, rebuild, and maybe even improve the universes, but it was slow, ungainly work. Little for her to do. Reed didn’t need her to blast anything with a forcefield, her children were at that age where they didn’t need her to embarrass them, and she just couldn’t see herself joining A-Force or some other super-team just to stay busy. She needed some sort of escape. Some kind of fun.
It wasn’t that hard to finagle herself a ticket to the world premiere of Spider-Man’s new movie in the House of Magnus domain. She hadn’t been in that world in years—something always struck her as vaguely offensive in worlds where she was dead or nonexistent—but for some reason she was drawn there. It just struck her as hers, that place, that day. She knew she was one of millions of Sue Storms, married to millions of Reeds, a Council of Mr. Fantastic that were all healing the multiverse.

Perhaps it was just that she’d always liked Peter Parker—the studious, fair-minded, maturing young brother that she’d never had. It did her good to see a universe where he was doing well. So she went to the movie, in a sparsely populated theater—it always surprised Sue to find that in most premieres, celebrities showed up to be photographed and interviewed, then left discreetly, having no wish to actually sit through a two hour movie.

Invisible, she looked around for a seat. There were plenty, but one drew her eye. There was a familiar-looking man sitting there—plain, good looks but on the anonymous side. He was staring at the screen… something about Peter and “Gwen” (Mary Jane in a wig—what kind of fucked up universe would conflate the two, anyway?) getting an offer from the Devil but slapping him silly and then ‘GweMJ’ turned into the Guyver? Or something? It was weirder than that movie Hollywood had made about the FF just to keep the rights. The second one.

But what interested her wasn’t the movie, but the man. The coat on his lap was moving up and down with a rhythmic motion. As if it were veiling something… and the way he looked at the screen, so intent upon every frame.

God, is he playing with himself? She wondered. It seemed impossible. He was sitting next to someone, a woman, surely she would notice.

Surely…

Her curiosity aroused, Sue walked down the aisle, careful to avoid giving herself away by stepping on spilt popcorn or colliding with an usher. She got to the row the man was in and, from her closer vantage point, saw that he was breathing hard, his face setting into a giveaway grimace. His lips were slightly parted—by paying close attention, Sue could hear his raspy breath—and the coat on his lap was moving noticeably faster. He’s getting close!

And the woman? She was gorgeous, a well-shaped blonde, exactly the type who wouldn’t associate or put up with that kind of smuttiness. And she wasn’t. She was helping. Her hand was under the coat, in the man’s lap. And Sue recognized her. Gwen Stacy.

Which meant the man… was Peter Parker.

The inspiration was sudden and irresistible. Summoning up a forcefield, Sue rode it over the heads of the audience, none of them even noticing she was there. She stopped in the semi-privacy of Peter and Gwen’s section, an oasis of empty seats, and landed. Then she planted herself in the soft cushioned seat on the other side of Peter from Gwen, and decloaked.

He turned, his face paling even in the darkness, and a frightened breath whooshed out his mouth.

“Sssh,” Sue purred, moving her face toward his. She eyed Peter, then Gwen. There was a kind of understanding in Gwen’s eyes.

“Mind if I cut in?” she asked.

“Be my guest,” Gwen replied. “My hand’s cramping up.”

She watched Sue pull at the coat. He grabbed it before she could.

Sue grinned. “You’re not turning bashful on me now, are you?”

There was a tug of war between them, Sue trying to expose his cock, Peter trying to keep it hidden. Gwen put her hand on Peter’s arm.

“It’s alright,” she said, and Sue pulled the coat away.

Peter’s cock reared up in throbbing hardness. Gwen felt an anticipation come over her, hoping Sue would touch Peter’s balls, his cock. As much as she wanted to touch them herself, she wanted to see them touched, see them squeezed, see them fondled… see Peter cum.

Sue’s voice turned unmistakably husky as she stared. “You certainly don’t have anything to be bashful about, Peter Parker…”

“Someone could see!” Peter whispered frantically.

“Doubtful,” Sue said, turning invisible.

The seat retracted as her weight left in, there was a soft sound as her knees met the floor, then Peter’s cock seemed to disappear, hidden by her invisible mouth. Sue looked to have taken all of it between her lips—every last inch, right down to the root.

But Peter wasn’t thinking of her.

***

He was thinking of last Tuesday, when he’d taken Tony Stark’s private jet to Genosha for Wanda Lensharr’s coronation. Everyone anticipated her being more progressive than her father. How could she not be? She was married to a robot.

To make the departure time, he’d come straight from set, still wearing his spider-suit. The stewardess, though, had been wearing a dress straight out of Mad Men. If Mad Men hadn’t had to worry about the FCC.

“Excuse me,” she’d asked, bending over him as he went over the script for the next day’s shooting, her bountiful breasts more obscured by the airline pin on her shoulder strap than by her low-cut top. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Mr. Stark said I was to make sure you had everything and… anything you wanted.”

When in Rome, Peter’d thought. Or in Tony Stark’s company, as the case may be. “I could use some help leaning my seat back. Doesn’t seem to want to go down.”

“It doesn’t belong on this plane, then,” the stewardess giggled, then bent even further to ease the lever and lower him back. “That outfit must be very uncomfortable.”

“That outfit must be very cold,” Peter retorted.

“You could warm me up. And leave the mask on, if you like. Tell the truth, I think that’d be kinda hot, y’know?”

Peter did know. “Oh stewardess, I think I’m still in the upright position…”

They hadn’t even gone to the bathroom to do it. It was a private plane, so she’d just climbed right on. He barely had to move her dress to get it out of the way. She threw one of her legs over his shoulder and he tucked his head between her thighs. Four inches of his hardening cock went into the humid harbor of her mouth, while he pulled his mask up—just enough to lave his tongue between her thighs. She hadn’t been wearing panties. His mouth smacked firmly up against her pubis, and she sucked in a deep breath through her nostrils, accepting his ponderous intrusion into her mouth, lavishing it with a flurry of lapping licks.

He rammed his tongue up into her cunt; she replied appreciatively by swallowing more of the length of his cock, sucking at it hungrily. They went back and forth like that: giving and receiving, one pleasuring the other, then taking pleasure.

Warm waves of need soon swirled within the stewardess’s core, tickling over the intimate opening of her sex. Peter was eager to please, and she was only too willing to be pleased. She ate all he had to feed her, curling her tongue around his cock as all the old familiar sensations came rushing back. She loved the feel of him, the taste of the virile slab of manhood within her mouth.

His tongue found the bud of her clit, blasted tremors of ecstasy to the very depths of her body as he feathered his tongue around the supersensitive button. And she drew him deeper, letting his member slide into her throat as she sucked. Before she knew it, she had taken it all, and he remembered her a clit-torturing orgasm. It was the first of many, and a very long flight.

And even better with the mask on.

***

Gwen reached into her purse, getting some hand sanitizer—funny thing was, even when wiping away Peter’s precum, all she could think about was that the stuff was cool, not warm like Peter. She rubbed her hands briskly, then dropped the little bottle to the floor. When she leaned over to pick it up, one leg went wide. The blonde curls of her sex were revealed, glinting as if to draw attention to the pink lips of her sex. She wasn’t wearing panties that day. She felt sure Sue noticed, even as she went down on Peter.

And she was going down on Peter, sucking wickedly at the portion of his cock that she’d been able to swallow, her tongue washing the hard length as clean as it could be. Sue’s fingers reached into his undone fly to fondle his swollen balls, and Peter writhed, hands flying off the armrests and back to them. Sometimes they touched Sue. Once a brisk touch moved beneath her, fingers closing for a moment on the swell of her breast.

But it was a shy feel, not bold, not assertive, more like Reed had been when they’d first started out. As if Peter were half afraid of her despite his cock in her mouth. Sue smiled around his cock. Somehow, it seemed Peter would always be a little innocent, even with his cock fully erect and begging to blow.

She pulled his hand to her breast and fitted it around the full heft of it, clamping down until she knew he was brave enough to grope her with assurance. And as Peter felt her heat, her softness—her mouth around his cock--he remembered filming the movie.

***

The decision had been made that Spider-Man should be dating a superhero, so Mary Jane had to browbeat the producers in okaying some plot about time travel that would reset the timeline so that she had superpowers. Her new costume was white and green, a skintight bodysuit that was tightest halfway up her cleavage, where it stopped just over her nipples. It showed off how much exercise MJ got to excess, and considering that Peter and his wife were a large part of that exercise, he approved.

She’d taken it home with her—at least, to the penthouse suite of the Parker Hotel, where so many of the people in Peter’s life had recently found lodgings. And there, Lily had finally gotten her shot at the two of them.

Peter remembering driving his cock into Mary Jane’s ass as well as her cunt, Lily placing her parted lips on the underside of his shaft so he was fucking through her mouth as he snaked into MJ’s creamy cunt. His manhood going in drenched in saliva, coming out dripping with MJ’s juices. Him getting sucked and fucked at the same time, while he had Mary Jane eat Lily out too—the pair had been sixty-nining when he’d joined them.

Mary Jane going wild as she was penetrated, devoured, all at the same time. Lily in rapture as she ate cunt and cock together, her own pussy being tongued by the redhead. Working in harmony, they’d risen to the heights, not stopping until Peter shot into MJ, filling her in solid spurts. She creamed on his manhood as Lily melted in her mouth, drinking a sweet blend of Mary Jane’s honey and Peter’s cum, feeding Mary Jane her own cream in a steady time. When they finished at last, they lay together in a panting heap of warm flesh.

Then Mary Jane and Lily started eating each other all over again.

That time, Peter had just watched. Enjoyed himself. It was like Mary Jane said, there was just something about your own touch. He came on Mary Jane’s face, Lily’s breasts. Then he’d played the dom. Not allowing any of them to lick the cum that so deliciously warmed their bodies. Only the cum on each other.

Mary Jane had started, snitching from Lily’s nipples, and Lily had given her a kiss that had far more to do with the dollop of cum rolling off MJ’s lips.

In five minutes’ time, not a drop of cum remained. But by then, Peter was ready to give them much, much more…

***

Peter’s hand was tense around Sue’s breast, but it was strangely comforting, and soon she felt her nipple aching with hardness. Something else ached too, warming up feverishly between her sleek thighs. Her sex.

She was taking care of Peter’s needs, but what about her own? Sue swallowed hard, pulling his cock into her mouth for a bath of hot saliva, and she slipped her free hand down, into her pants, locking her fingers to her panty-covered pubis and beginning to rub. Her strokes matched the oral massage she was giving Peter, and for some reason, it felt much better when she knew someone else was getting off on what she was doing. It felt less selfish, somehow.

In fact, it felt damn good. His cock in her mouth, her fingers playing up and down the crotch of her panties, her sex moistly affixing itself to the silk covering. She thrust at her slit, driving fingers and panties alike into the opening, and she writhed against her own silken massage, muscles twitching as she grew more excited, as she sucked harder.

Peter barely noticed. He was a million miles away. Back in New York, to be precise.

***

He cared about the environment as much as the next man, and even when going to meet with Mephista, Amadeus Cho, and Thor (he looked forward to trying out a new joke about the big guy’s bionic hand; he was sure Hulk would think it was funny as hell), he rode the subway. Better that than being stuck in traffic, his limo turning Earth into one big greenhouse.

Every so often, Peter met someone who didn’t know him, recognized the mask instead of him. It was gratifying. The woman he was shoved next to on the crowded car didn’t seem to have any recognition at all, him dressed in street clothes, his hair grown back.

She was a honey blonde, maybe nineteen or twenty, and wore an extremely short skirt. Her legs were crossed as she held onto the pole, and something about the way she flexed them to get comfortable caused her skirt to rise. At first, Peter saw her stocking tops. Then he saw the band of soft white flesh between her stockings and her panty line. Peter felt himself harden. A jostling pushed him into her, and Peter cringed as he pulled back, feeling certain she had felt the hard-on brush her bare thigh.

“Sorry,” Peter said, blushing. Then, out of some neurotic need to bury his discomfort in verbiage. “It’s like surfing, isn’t it? This stretch is always really lurchy.”

“I’m a great surfer,” she replied. “I love being out in the sun with the surf and the pounding waves and the… ooh!”

She was jostled again, colliding with him, and he felt her breast brush against his arm before she straightened.

He wondered if it was on purpose.

His erection didn’t.

“It’s warm in here,” he said quickly, more nervously. “Are you warm?”

“Not really. Don’t tell anyone, but I have hardly anything on under this raincoat.”

And hardly anything on below it either, Peter thought, but his mouth, as usual, went on without him. “Wh-wh-why-wh-why would that be?”

“I’m a model,” she said. “I was on my way to a photo shoot, but it got cancelled…” Another lurch. She pressed against him. This time she didn’t back away. “Which sucks,” she whispered in his ear, “because I really need these pictures. What do you do?”

Peter showed her. Took it right there in the subway car. No one even noticed in the press of bodies. No one but sweet little Patsy, her name was. She opened her raincoat a little. She really did have hardly anything on. And certainly nothing in the way.

***

Sue felt her panties beginning to unravel under her caressing fingertips. And why not? She was entering herself, finger and panties, almost to the knuckle. Wetness had already sopped through the silk and the flimsy material couldn’t stretch indefinitely. Her nails were sharp and Sue sighed around the cock in her throat as the silk yielded and tore and she was pressing a bare finger through the rent, into her bare, wet pussy.

The muscles were eager, and they clenched at the unfettered penetration, sucking at her own finger. Sue twitched about obscenely, glad no one could see her, and her mouth moved faster on Peter’s cock.

It was getting even harder.

***

“Oh, my poor little pussy!” Patsy moaned, hugging him, her voice only loud enough for his ears. “Oh God, your prick is so damn big! It hurts!”

Her hands were under his jacket, clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh as he hammered himself harder and faster into her slick cunt. She could flesh the fleshy head of his prick pushing aside her labia, filling the space between, stretch her wide open.

With his face buried in the warmth of her neck, Peter pumped his hips with ever-increasing urgency, Patsy only able to hold her position in the barrage because of his hands tight on her hips. His breath coming fast, he pistoned his cock into her wetly gripping sex with a fury of mounting lust.

“Your pussy’s so tight,” Peter gasped in her ear, his thrusts quickening, his voice so low only she could hear. “So wet and slippery. Your cunt grabs at my cock every chance it gets… you’ve got the hottest little pussy I’ve ever felt.”

Between Peter’s cock and his whispered words, it wasn’t long before the discomfort in Patsy’s loins became abject pleasure. Soon she was damp with sweat, moaning softly, her knees spreading wider as she began to slowly pump her slender hips.

“It’s feeling good!” Patsy breathed hotly. “It’s starting to feel so good! I’m tingling! A little faster, mmm, shove your cock deeper!”

The skirt was so short, it didn’t even cover the cum that ran down her thighs when he was finished.

***

Suddenly, Gwen reached over. She had a tub of popcorn that she planted in Peter’s lap and, miming reaching for it, she reached underneath and found Sue by touch and used her hand to guide Sue’s sucking. Faster. Gwen wanted her to go even faster.

She did, and found Peter’s cock dancing, powering in the inescapable trap of her suctioning mouth. There was no way he could resist her for long, especially when Gwen had been playing with him before Sue got there. Sue knew that, yet she took a perverse pleasure in denying him his climax as long as possible.

And Peter took an equally perverse pleasure in thinking back to yet another woman he’d been with.

***

It wasn’t all fun and games. He’d met with Miles and Miguel about upgrading their webshooters, and although he’d taken all the usual resistance precautions, he’d still gotten picked up a couple hours later for summary interrogation in some deep, dark Thor Corps hole. Happened to everyone.

The Thor stared at him across the interrogation table. The Corps member was Ororo Monroe. At least, an Ororo. Doom seemed to have a fondness for her; Peter’d seen multiple incarnations in the Crops and he had to guess they either had an inclination for climbing the ladder or chrome-dome was specifically trying to recruit her ilk.

He couldn’t judge Doom too harshly. Ororo looked amazing as a Thor, chainmail hanging from every inch of her powerful frame, winged helmet adorning her head like a crown, Mjolnir a royal scepter. Peter wished he could confess, just to see her happy.

Her voice hadn’t changed at all. It hadn’t had to. It was regal as always. “Another five Goblins opposing Baron Magnus, the rightful ruler of this domain. All of them using your technology.”

“Oscorp’s technology,” Peter corrected her. “I just bought the company.”

“Before all the tech hit the open market.”

“Even I can’t take responsibility for disgruntled employees. And why would I want to support a human rights group? I’m a mutant, after all.”

“Married to a human.”

“A really cute human.”

“And supporting Bill Hollister’s mayoral campaign. He’s human.”

“Yes, but a fiscal conservative.”

“I think you’re a human lover.”

“No, I’m a superhuman lover. Ask my wife.”

“Maybe I just get a warrant and let the teeps have a run at you. Find out exactly what you know.”

“I think not.” Karla spoke briskly as she walked into the room, also briskly. “Mr. Parker is my patient. He suffers from chronic anxiety, acute insomnia, bipolar disorder, and panic attacks. You’ve probably set his therapy back years with this torture chamber of yours, let alone subjecting him to psychic abuse! In fact, I demand to do a full examination of him immediately, and make sure he’s being treated properly.”

Ororo was taken aback for a moment, but then she made an allowing gesture, looking the doctor over. Karla sat down on the high stool Peter’d been seated on before, motioning for him to sit down on the table. Karla wore a long lab coat over a becoming silk blouse and cotton skirt. Ororo noticed the long slit on the left side of the skirt drooped to reveal an expanse of well-tanned thighs. Ororo stared at it curiously as Karla asked Peter a series of yes or no questions.

Karla crossed her legs, glancing back to acknowledge a look from Ororo, but Ororo had looked at her legs, not her face. Karla could sense the attraction between them. Used to men and women giving her admiring looks, Karla paid it no mind.

While Karla continued the questions, Ororo noticed the doctor’s knees were parting. They moved slowly away from each other, as if Karla was too absorbed to notice. Ororo saw the creamy inner softness of the doctor’s thighs, then noticed Peter was seeing it too. He was bold, his eyes never flinching from Karla’s opening legs.

Ororo’s breath caught when she saw the tight crotch of Karla’s panties. She’d half-expected to find nothing there. She wondered if she should let Karla know, since she was so preoccupied with her questions. Peter was answering in grunts now.

“Alright, Peter,” Karla said, sliding from the stool. “Now let’s make sure these thugs haven’t roughed you up.”

Offense reddened Ororo’s ear. “If we had, he would’ve told you.”

“Not necessarily,” Karla corrected. “And I plan on being fully satisfied before I let Mr. Parker—a close personal friend of the Summers, I should add—be subjected to anymore of your bullying!”

Karla moved to unbutton Peter’s shirt, opening it herself. Ororo thought Karla was caressing his bare chest more than examining it, but she knew nothing of medicine. She wasn’t sure. When Karla listened to his chest, Ororo noticed that the doctor was very slowly rubbing one of her breasts against Peter’s upper arm.

“Sounds good,” Karla announced, still suspicious. She stood in front of Peter, lifting his arms and putting her hands on his shoulders. “Hold your arms toward me.”

Peter pushed his hands out as if reaching for Karla’s breasts. Ororo watched, more interested than surprised, as Karla brought Peter’s shoulders forward, causing his outstretched hands to cross. Her gaze followed Peter’s hands and saw them brush over Karla’s breasts. She thought she saw Karla tremble slightly.

“That’s good, Peter,” Karla said. Her voice was suddenly quite low, a throaty sound. “Now lie down and let’s see if you have any internal bleeding.”

Ororo rolled her white eyes. She returned to her seat, slumping insouciantly, her arms crossed and her eyes baleful.

Karla faced Ororo across the table as she opened Peter’s pants. Ororo noticed the doctor’s breasts rising and falling inside her blouse, her eyes expectant, excited. As Karla pulled Peter’s underwear down, his hard cock sprang up immediately. Karla sucked in a breath, her tongue swiping about her lips. None of it was missed by Ororo.

Karla felt Peter’s balls, trying to appear professional, but Ororo knew that what Karla’s hands were doing had nothing to do with medicine. It was obvious by now that Karla just enjoyed it. Ororo saw it in how she touched him. In the way she breathed. In her eyes.

Ororo was looking at Peter’s cock, watching Karla’s hand, her own tongue moving about her lips. She glanced up to see Karla staring at her, challenging her to question the examination.

Ororo realized her knees were parted. When Karla glanced at her legs, still caressing Peter’s balls, Ororo felt the wild urge to spread her thighs. Before she could see, Ororo opened her legs. She saw a glint in Karla’s eyes.

As Karla gently squeezed Peter’s balls, she looked down, gazing hotly at the flimsy crotch of Ororo’s lace panties. Ororo knew now that Karla wanted her, desired her, just like she did Peter.

Karla wrapped her hand around Peter’s shaft, but her eyes burned on Ororo’s exposed crotch. Ororo, running her tongue suggestively over her lips, widened her stance, lifting her loincloth with one hand. A soft gasp came from Karla, and she began jerking her closed hand up and down on Peter’s cock. Now it was Ororo who gasped, seeing the doctor’s fist around Peter’s manhood.

“Everything seems in order,” Karla said. “I can’t find anything wrong. In fact, it’s all… perfect.”

Ororo knew what the doctor was talking about. Hard cock, exposed cunt, balls full of cum. Excitement was spreading through her like wildfire, her sex wet against the crotch of her panties. The game was over.

“Would you like to collaborate my findings?” Karla asked, and Ororo’s lips parted, her mouth opening wider than ever.

It didn’t close for a long, long time.

“Knew I’d get you off,” Karla told Peter after, as they walked away from the police station.

***

But what really got Peter off was that Lily had been flying with him. That Mary Jane had been the one who pushed him into the model. That Gwen had gotten home after the threesome and climbed right into bed with them. That right now, Felicia was watching little Mayday, trying to keep up with all the mischief she could cause.

Sue kept frigging herself as he came in her mouth—fingers snaking through the tear in her panties, her clit a blooming flower, her juices pouring from her in a cloud of perfume thick enough to make the entire theater smell like a brothel. Or so it seemed to Sue, as she drank hot cum and rode her hand, all at the same time. It was good cum, she thought as her lapping tongue delivered more to her gulping throat. Young cum. Hot cum. She wanted more.

“Swallow it, swallow,” Gwen pleaded, her hand pressing down hard on Sue’s head, as if the Invisible Woman had any intention of stopping.

No, she would suck him dry.

Peter kept coming, shooting into her gaping mouth. It rolled from her lips, turning visible on her chin and the corners of her mouth. God, there was so much of it! She wondered if he’d been doing this for the whole movie, all two and a half hours of it, masturbating, waiting only for the perfect moment to have a gushing orgasm just like this one. Or maybe she was just that good a cocksucker.

Sue didn’t know, she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was drowning in hot cum and still she wanted more.

Her own climax was petty in comparison, but it was a climax all the same, and she’d shared it with another person. That made it perfect.

That’s what Reed needs, she thought to herself. Reed and his whole Interdimensional Council. They all just needed to get laid. She should let them run a train on her. It would probably make the multiverse a better place. Get rid of that one creepy universe where the Avengers called themselves ‘the Ultimates’ and showed worse behavior than a wrestling pay-per-view.

You might be onto something there, Sue further thought to herself, and somehow, she met Gwen’s eyes as she swallowed her husband’s cum. Who knew. Maybe Gwen would be up for helping her. Reed would certainly be up for it. Very, very up.

She suckled one last time at Peter’s cock, teeth grinding softly on the shaft until her overworked tongue assured her that he was drained, not to yield more no matter how she teased or coaxed or cajoled. Regretfully, she lifted her head, swallowed, and tucked his cock back into his pants, zipping them up quietly. Her face was sticky, with cum covering her mouth like lipstick, but as she licked up the spill, she didn’t care. No matter what it had done to her make-up.

Peter was kissing Gwen. Sue rose and, the second they broke for air, kissed Gwen as well. Letting Gwen tongue her until the taste of Peter had been obliterated from her mouth. Gwen sucked it right off her tongue.

***

Outside the theater, Peter and Gwen glad-handed the usual well-wishers, doing it on autopilot until they found themselves confronted by Emma and Scott Summers.

“I think you’ve got another hit on your hands,” Scott told Peter, shaking his hand. He took Gwen’s hand and kissed it. “Scott Summers. Big fan.”

Gwen’s eyes darted downward. “Let’s hope.”

Emma pumped Peter’s hand. “I don’t understand what that stuff about your parents had to do with anything. But I suppose it’s a pretty good movie if someone’s blowing you while you watch it.”

Peter and Gwen boggled at her.

“My wife’s quite the psychic,” Scott said apologetically. “Naturally, sometimes she has trouble not saying what she’s thinking—“

“I am quite the psychic,” Emma cut in. “Which is why I know that both the Parkers would be happy to join us for an after-party.” She smiled at Peter. “You can show us how good a swinger you really are.”

“Listen,” Peter said, “you’re cute and all, but I don’t think Gwen—“

“Why wouldn’t I?” Gwen interrupted, staring at Scott. “After all, he already has a thing for blondes…”

“Then it’s settled,” Emma said. “Scott, bring the car around. I need to beam a few ground rules into Peter’s brain.”

And as Peter suddenly became exceeding aware of where Emma Frost’s erogenous zones were located, he thought that this was going to make one hell of a session the next time he visited Dr. Sofen.