Felicia lay naked in bed, listening to the rain hit her building. He really wasn't coming. Peter was not her boyfriend anymore. She'd gone out and robbed a joint, but even that hadn't put a dint in her frustrations. Nor had spilling out her loot—all the cash money and one ornate scepter—onto her bed and lying upon it, momentarily using the scepter as a backscratcher. She was in for a long, lonely night.
And why? Why? Because Peter couldn't take someone just as outside the law as he was? Because the same cops who couldn't arrest the real criminals went after her for stealing from them? She'd gotten away with less than half the loot she should've. She was freshly bathed, all made up, with a dab of Spider's favorite perfume behind each ear and under each breast—young, beautiful, and turned on, every man's dream. And she was alone. It just wasn't right.
Felicia bit her lip in frustration, remembering Peter's cock in her starved cunt, how big it'd been, how satisfying. But he was too much a puritan to give it to her. If only she had gotten to him sooner—when he was young and naïve, willing to accept her lessons in life. She'd seen the news footage. He'd been cute... malleable...
Wiggling about on the actually somewhat uncomfortable bed of cash, Felicia ran her hands over her sleek body. She was somewhat embarrassed about it—not the act, but the fact that she couldn't get someone to do it for her—but there was no choice. She touched herself. She cupped her tits, squeezing them, molding them, thumbs rubbing her nipples into stiffness. Pushing her vast mammaries upward, she was able to reach them with her mouth, and she lathered both nipples with her tongue as she sucked. All the while she pictured Peter making love to her, his hands soothing her tingling breasts, his tongue hot and wet on her nipples, his hand between her thighs...
"God, yes..." she moaned. "Peter..."
Not the judgmental, responsible man he'd become, but a younger man... a boy, really...
***
Felicia looked her house guest over as he rested on the chaise lounge. It was hard to tell when he was in constant, scurrying motion, but asleep, she could see how his slender frame was packed with muscles, his body hard and trim, but obviously young. From her experience, she guessed that he was only eighteen, perhaps even younger. She sipped her tea, waiting patiently as consciousness returned to him. His gloved fingers twitching, his head turning from side to side, lips parting under his mask. He jerked up suddenly, alert and surprised.
"Where am I? What's going on here?"
"Relax, Spider," Felicia said, not moving as he took her in. She knew how good she looked, and while the sight of her in an only modesty fastened robe might've been intimidating, it wasn't threatening. Nor was their environment of her swanky penthouse. It wasn't like she'd left any of her toys out, after all. "You're safe. In my home."
"Cat?" he said, belatedly recognizing her without her famous costume. They'd had one or two run-ins and Felicia knew he considered her something of an annoyance, but not a real danger. He checked to see if his mask was on or not, and Felicia guessed he had some way of knowing if it had been removed or not, because he calmed down after he'd checked it.
"You had a fight with Doctor Octopus, got knocked out. I brought you here. Figured you wouldn't want to wake up in a police station. So what happened? From what little I saw of the battle royale, you looked a little sluggish. Weren't even quipping that much."
He sighed. "Serves me right for going into battle sick. But I don't exactly get sick days with this gig."
"Oh, poor baby. Let me get you a warm drink..."
His mask might've covered all his face, but Felicia could tell he stared as she uncrossed her legs and stood, revealing the hose and garter belt underneath her robe. They stretched seamlessly over her pale skin as her legs pumped, taking her to the kitchen, where she had a pot of chocolate on the stove. She mixed a spoonful into a mug of milk, nuked it in the microwave, and came back. Spider-Man had still not stopped staring at her, and Felicia couldn't blame him. She knew hot she looked.
"I'm a big fan, Spider. Loved you on the Ed Sullivan Show. So glad you've decided to embrace the outlaw lifestyle instead of becoming a boring old Avenger. If only you were a little better at it. The Bugle seems to know all about your heists, but all my colleagues just know you from getting beaten up and taken to jail."
Spider-Man looked up sharply as she set his hot cocoa down on the coffee table. "I'm not an outlaw. I just have a very, very bad PR guy."
"Have you tried dressing up in skintight leather with partially exposed cleavage?" Felicia asked innocently. "It works wonders for me."
"Got an editorial about skintight spandex and rock-hard abs corrupting the youth of America." Spider-Man pulled up his mask to over his nose, taking the cocoa and drinking some. His jaw was crisply square, clean-shaven, with white teeth underneath his chapstick lips. It confirmed Felicia's suspicions that he was quite handsome, though from the way he carried himself this was subconscious knowledge, and not something he actually knew. "Why are you doing this? Why help me?"
"Consider it my charitable donation. If I paid taxes, you'd be my write-off. I make an awful lot of money, you save an awful lot of lives... I should be taking care of you. Subsidizing you. Giving you the support you need to keep saving people and jailing crooks. Well... some crooks."
"I can take care of myself," Spider-Man protested.
"Oh? You look flushed. In fact, I think you're running a temperature." She came over to him, putting her hand on his forehead. It was hot even through the mask.
Spider-Man lurched away from her, deeper into the cushions he was lying on. "It's just hot in here. And the costume's a little stuffy. And I always run a little warm after I get my ass kicked."
"Now, Spider, is that the truth?" Felicia asked, sweeping her white hair from her brow, leaning in on him so her breasts were thrust in his face.
She could see how he stiffened, confronted with ripe breasts only inches from his face. Felicia waited for him to lean forward, smother himself in them, but he was too young and inexperienced to meet her halfway. He lay there, squirming, as Felicia petted his hair through the mask. Her tits right in front of his face. His prick throbbing harder and harder.
"You've definitely got a temperature, little man. Why don't you lie down in my bed? It's much more comfortable. I'll get a thermometer and take your temperature."
Spider-Man shook his head. Probably wanted to go someplace private where he could jack off while thinking about her. Felicia wasn't offended by the notion, but she would rather be nearby while he did it. Someplace where he could come all over her.
"I'll be fine, I should go—"
Felicia put her hand under his chin, raising his face until her own gorgeous reflection was in his mask's lenses. She knew how striking her blue eyes were, put full force against his. He could not be looking anywhere else. "I'm not letting you go until I'm sure you don't have a fever. You're a hero, Spider. I won't have you biting the dust because you're not at a hundred percent. Especially with that cute ass you've got."
She smiled, canting her head at just the right angle so now he could see nothing but her luscious lips. And, as if hypnotized, Spider-Man nodded his head. Felicia never felt his eyes leave her gleaming lipstick. He wanted to kiss her. Almost as much as she wanted him to.
She grabbed his arm and helped him up. He was still weak, stumbling against her for support. Or maybe just to wrap his arm around her waist, feel some of her lovely flesh through the thin white robe. Felicia, for her part, glanced at his crotch and almost burst out laughing. Definitely a teenager. She was good, but not good enough to give someone that big a hard-on with just a little show and tell.
She couldn't wait to have it out in the open.
