Swinging 2 (Patreon)

Mary Jane changed quickly, determined to get out of her workaday jeans and T-shirt and into something properly tight and short and very expensive. It was late afternoon now and the end of Peter’s workday. She wanted nothing more than to get him alone and celebrate before the night shift.

Waves of energy swept through her, always seeming to end up at her unfulfilled pussy. She wanted sex, but that would be at its best when she was wined and dined—the climax of an evening’s worth of worshiping her.

Fucking Peter was always good, but she couldn’t let it be something they did hurriedly between appointments and obligations. That could wait until they had kids (which was another reason she was eager to have Peter inside her; she wasn’t old, but she wasn’t getting any younger either).

When Mary Jane finally stepped out of the guest room that served double-duty as her dressing room and wardrobe when they didn’t have company over—as if she would store a single pair of shoes in the bedroom closet where Peter cooked up his webbing—Peter was seated on the couch, reading a magazine.

He looked up when he heard her make her debut and gave her a broad smile that was just about a wolf-whistle. “You’re looking good today.”

Mary Jane smiled. “I look good every day.”

She went to walk out the front door, but Peter jumped up to cut her off before she could make it out. He’d dressed up himself, a well-tailored business suit clinging tight to his body. He stood staring deep into her eyes, pressing himself against her, letting her feel his erection through the thin material of his trousers. It was straining to be free of his boxers and Mary Jane heated up, feeling it bulge with eagerness to get inside her.

“What’s the rush?” Peter asked, reaching out to run a finger along Mary Jane’s splendid cleavage. “We’re just coming back here again…”

Her dress was low-cut, with ruffles of folded cloth protectively holding to her neckline. His fingertip played with them, flicking them up and down.

“We’ve been waiting for this reservation to come up for months,” Mary Jane reminded him.

Peter teasingly pulled at her décolletage until her breasts almost freed themselves of her dress’s embrace. “Who needs it? We should be content with what we’ve got right here.”

Mary Jane was just about overwhelmed by the rush of heat going through her succulent tits. She longed despite herself for his teasing touch to become a kneading massage.

“Show me a good time tonight and you’ll be more than content.”

Peter yanked on her neckline, not to disrupt it, but to pull her into a hard kiss that thrust his hot tongue into her mouth, ran it over her teeth, made her think of how good it would feel to have him reaming into other parts of her anatomy.

Mary Jane moaned passionately, reaching around his hips to grope as much of his taut ass as she could, then pulling them close and rubbing her mound against his ever-swelling cock. Peter let go of her suddenly, licking his lips while he looked her body up and down in a final approval of it.

“That is one nice dress. But it can’t compare to how good it’d feel to rip you out of it.”

“Try it and I’ll move in with Ben Reilly.”

“Honey, just think of how lucky we are that the spark hasn’t gone out of our marriage!” her husband persisted.

“We could use the meal to keep our strength up. Unless you want to learn how to cook Bruschetta Chicken Pasta with Balsamic Glaze.”

“I’m a chemist. I could figure it out.”

“Figure it out on your own time. This is date night.”

That settled it for Peter, but Mary Jane still felt itchy and hot and very much like taking up Peter on his offer. It could be—it was half-certain—that their night would be interrupted by some emergency and she’d wish she had shared as much passion as she could with Peter when she had the chance.

But she couldn’t live that way; resigning herself to only having crumbs of a normal life. She led an extraordinary life. She was a celebrity, her husband was a superhero, and together, they would carve out a marriage for themselves that was just as happy, as exciting, as fulfilling as anyone else’s.

After locking the door behind them and dropping the key into her clutch, Mary Jane took Peter’s arm and nestled her cheek against the rough, sturdy fabric of his suit jacket. It would never be mistaken for Saville Row, but would pass for the suit of a college professor outside the Ivy League. Glamorous enough to make an effort, but not at all losing sight of their working class roots. Mary Jane was dressed more fabulously, but then, Peter didn’t have designers fighting to get free samples onto his body, no matter how exquisite MJ found it.

As they boarded the elevator, Mary Jane reached down to consolingly run her hand over Peter’s tented erection.

“I’m trying to think clean thoughts,” Peter said tersely, his face in fine form for poker.

Mary Jane grinned at his torment. “So I can’t give you a blowjob before we get to the ground floor?”

Peter moaned dolefully—the car was already slowing to a stop at the bottom of the shaft. “We should’ve moved to a taller building.”

***

The restaurant was crowded when they got there and despite their reservations they had to wait for a table. Mary Jane decided to get them a few drinks at the bar and Peter decided that anywhere MJ was, he wanted to be.

So they sat as close together as they could, Mary Jane spinning gently back and forth on her stool, teasing Peter with her bare knee tapping against his legs.

She sipped her gin and tonic and looked over the crowd. There were plenty of eligible bachelors there; the Vialar Bust (as it was named) had a clientele to die for. But none of them would she trade Peter for.

Still, the sensual atmosphere of young couples, in love or in lust, meeting or getting reacquainted, worked on her. Mary Jane flirted with her eyes, enjoying the envious gazes of the studs and winking seductively when one of the women gave her an outraged look.

Suddenly she felt Peter’s warm hand on her knee, a little bit possessive, a little bit joining in the game she was playing. Mary Jane felt a thrill go straight to her sex. She closed her eyes and smiled, enjoying the very public foreplay.

It made her wonder how long she could resist tearing Peter’s fly open and taking him up on the offer he’d made at their apartment. The subway ride home? Maybe an alley on the walk away from the restaurant?

She downed her drink and ordered another to silence the little voice of propriety that wanted to sour things. MJ wanted to go all out tonight, going so far as to indulge herself in every little vice before she got to a really big taboo—like ordering Peter to take her up to a rooftop and do things to her right in the middle of the city.

I am going to get everything I want and give my husband everything he wants too.

She kept scanning the crowd, feeling herself getting more and more heated. Peter leaned over and kissed her ear, brushing her fiery red hair away and closing his lips around the lobe, before sucking it like he was trying to make her moan like a porn star in the middle of New York’s latest hot spot.

The thrill of it all coursed through her, ending at the core of her like she needed anymore indication where she wanted Peter’s attention to go next. Her clit flared, growing stiff against her panties—Mary Jane almost wished she hadn’t worn any, the delight was so torturous.

She wished too that her husband would reach down and touch the straining arousal between her legs, but as with going to this restaurant in the first place, drawing out her satiation was shockingly exquisite.

Somehow Mary Jane was contented for the moment with the sweet rush of anticipation and the certain knowledge that Peter was feeling all the same lust as her, that he would be sating it with his wife as much as she could ever wish for.

She quickly finished her second drink, enjoying the near-hypnotic combination of alcohol and desire. Every part of her body felt inundated with a blissful glow: her bare legs, her stirring loins, her heaving breasts. She knew all it would take was one finger between her thighs and she would orgasm. Mary Jane felt like she was queen of some royal court and all this flirting and drinking and dining was in honor of her.

Then she saw Felicia at the other end of the bar, fairly cramming her well-endowed breasts into a young hottie’s face. Felicia straddled her stool like it was a sex toy she was teasing herself with, her legs crossed and her shirt skirt riding high above her creamy thighs. Mary Jane could see the little white triangle of her panties between her toned legs.

“Peter, let’s get out of here. This meal is taking too long.”

“Where do you want to go?” Peter asked her, confused at the sudden about-face.

Mary Jane flashed him a smile dazzling enough to pave over any questions. “Where’s the nearest place you’d go to take your clothes off? Because I have a few things I want to get off my chest. And onto it.”