Gwen Stacy Syndrome Ch 08

They laid down in the same bed that night, but only Peter slept. With the patience of a thief, the patience of a hunter, the women waited for Peter to slumber. It didn't take long. His work-day was long and arduous. Once he was out of it, they turned on each other like hungry animals.

They kissed and petted, explored each other's bodies for every inch of softness, whispered in the other's ear every filthy thing in their imaginations, came once, twice, three times with Peter none the wiser. After two hours, they'd gone simply as hot as they could go. Reached the point of no return.

"Are you ready?" Felicia asked Ana conversationally, louder than even the muffled cries of her climaxes had been. Ana nodded eagerly.

Leaving the engine running on Ana, one hand still hungrily rubbing Ana's thigh, Felicia leaned over to Peter's side of the bed. She drew the sheets down his still body, then his boxers down his slender legs. Her long, silken hair fell from her bent shoulders, down to drape over his exposed manhood. Felicia bent to that, soft pink lips giving way to a hot red tongue. It slithered like a snake onto his upper thigh, tracing a scar left long ago. Felicia thought it was lucky. Lucky because if it were any higher, her tongue would have nowhere to go.

As Ana watched with bated breath, and Peter's breathing similarly pitched, Felicia traveled to Peter's organ. It stirred with the playing of her tongue on his wrinkled sack, then became a ready weapon as her kisses left trace of saliva on his inner thighs, his lower belly, the base of his shaft. His cock was soon an inch longer than it had been when she started. It did not stop growing.

"Yes," Ana said, her body shaking now, a transcendent feeling spilt through her. "Yes!"

Felicia sucked one of Peter's large testicles into her mouth, massaging it in its warming scrotum with her teeth and tongue. When it started to pulse against her lips, she spat out the soaked flesh and captured Peter's other ball. Peter's awakening manhood reared through her hair. Ana could barely look away, barely see Peter's face as his brow furrowed, his head moving restlessly from one end of his pillow to the other.

Then Felicia brushed her hair back behind her ears, opened her lips wide, and took Peter not only into her mouth, but down her throat.

Peter moaned, muttered under her breath. His cock was molten lead, ready to cool into hard metal inside Felicia's nice wet pussy. Precum began to pull into Felicia's mouth as Ana moved in, kissing at Felicia's cheek, Peter's pubic hair, trying to get the woman's tongue in her mouth, or the man's cock—anything.

Felicia pushed her aside. She sucked harder and faster, knowing Peter was really enjoying her work. She was as hot as he was hard, and something about sucking on a sleeping man, while he was still and vulnerable, made her pussy twinge. She knew he would wake up and fuck her; she knew it would be amazing.

Peter moaned, but his eyes were still shut as he twisted under Felicia's mouth. "God, you know how to suck cock, Cat. Jesus Christ, you should give lessons!"

Felicia smiled around his prick, glad he hadn't said the redhead's name. As much as she too loved Mary Jane, it was good to know that when it came to a little head, she was the first thought on his mind.

All good things, though. She pulled back, his cock popping out of her mouth, and his straining, unspent pleasure brought Peter out of his stupor. He blinked away, staring down in shock that slowly gave way to understanding as Felicia crawled back on top of Ana. Delivering Peter's taste to the huntress's mouth.

"Your hotel," Peter said, "has one hell of a wake-up call."

"Funny you should mention that," Felicia replied, moving down Ana's tensed body. She pried apart the girl's legs. "Ana's turn now."

The pounding in Felicia's ears was soon trapped by Ana's thighs. She drove her tongue into the young woman's slit, loving the slick feeling of wetness-against-wetness. Her own thighs were spread, her own hand knowing exactly how to please her.

"I love it, I love it!" Ana cried, trying in vain to hold back her cries with her fist against her mouth. "Oh, God, how can it be so good without a man--?"

"Ask a silly question," Felicia sighed, running her hands over Ana's bottom, her tongue between her labia.

Looking up into the huntress's eyes, she could see Ana's thoughts running in dizzy circles. Ana was trapped by the feel of Felicia on her, chilled warmth in the darkness, smooth breasts running over her thighs, following the hungry mouth hunting in her femininity for anything sweet and succulent.

Then Felicia felt Peter moving behind her, hands squeezing her ass, massaging her thighs, opening up her legs for his knees to settle between—a pregnant pause as he stopped touching her with one hand, but it was just so he could align his cock with her sex. Felicia imagined it: eating out Ana while Peter fucked her from behind. Who cared if they called it doggy style?

Still, there was the Felicia that was impulsive and there was the Felicia that stayed out of prison, used sex as a weapon, would not let even her beloved Spider-Man get in her way. And this wasn't a fuck. It was a plan.

"No," Felicia said, twisting onto her side and resting her head right on Ana's pubis to look back at Peter.

Peter stood there with his dick in his hands, literally. "What?"

"No. As in, no means no? I don't want to have sex with you."

Well, this is a first.

Impressive survival instincts kept Peter from going with that quip. Besides, he was too confused to make with the funny. "You were

literally

just going down on me."

"And now I'm

literally

not. What are you gonna do? Sue me?"

Peter looked like he was about ready to tear his hair out, but he was too good a guy to press the issue. "Okay, I—yeah, I'm assuming if your apartment has hot running water, it's also got a cold shower."

"Oh, very cold," Felicia said. "But if it were me, I'd just have sex with Ana. You'd be fine with that, wouldn't you Annie?"

"I am ready to receive your—" Felicia pinched the Kravinoff girl, intimately. "Yes. I am."

"You want me to have sex with Ana," Peter said, partly uncomprehending, partly comprehending all too well.

"I know I am," Felicia said, and turned over, slipping over Ana to stretch out against the headboard, putting her magnificent ass on display.

She gave it a slap and Ana obeyed, followed, crawling on all fours to Felicia's rump as the Cat jutted it out for her. Wiggled so the rounded cheeks bunched together. Ana took hold of her hips and kissed the buoyant bulge like it was one giant set of lips.

"Mmm, Ana," Felicia purred, twisting her ass into and away from the woman's kisses. "I can

tell

you've been 'Kraven'..."

Ana was on her hands and knees, bowing to Felicia who bowed to the headboard. Peter knelt behind them on the mattress. Like he would reach out to pet an animal, he extended his hand until it made contact with the gently moving flesh of Ana's swaying ass. His palm rubbed over the sweet, silken texture. His eyes riveted themselves to the pink set of lips underneath. His other hand began to stroke himself.

Ana slipped her hand around Felicia's hips, running over the martini-chilled smoothness until she got to the soft hair of the thief's cunt. She fingered it for Felicia as she licked the satiny flesh of her lover's ass. It was unclear which was making Felicia squirm and whimper more.

"Between the cheeks!" Felicia gasped. "See what it tastes like when Spider fucks me in the ass!"

Eagerly, Ana pushed her tongue into the crack of Felicia's ass, licking her way to the fiery pucker of Felicia's hole. Black Cat cried out throatily. "Lick my asshole! Tongue me in my tight little ass! Yes! Oh, hell

yes

!"

Peter's left hand continued to stroke Ana's buttocks, mapping it just as his right hand did back forth along the length of his manhood. But at Felicia's nigh-orgasmic outburst, he stopped like a man woken from a trance. Had to blink twice to get his bearing.

He was naked. The two women were naked. His cock was hard and eager in his hand and Ana's cunt was right in front of him.

"I never could say no to you," he said, positioning himself behind Ana, then lunging forward.

Ana had been so intent on one prey that she'd forgotten the other. She'd been nearly overwhelmed by the succulent flesh before her eager mouth—the timid resistance of Felicia's opening anus, then the sweet taste of her pleasure—that Peter's caress of her own ass almost hadn't consciously registered. Now she felt the pressure of his hardened cock against her sex, so thoughtfully lubricated by Felicia, and she had only the barest of moments to rejoice that it was her alpha before he thrust inside her with a spear of rock-hard flesh.

Her claiming was long and ecstatic. The climax was distant, but when it finally arrived with the light of the dawn, Ana could've sworn that all three of them came at once.

***

Ana awoke long before the others. The flipside of being a predator: she knew when she was prey. Naked, still smelling deliciously of Peter, she left him and Felicia to their togetherness and wandered out to where she'd left her phone. She answered it almost before it rang.

"Mommy?"

"Ana. You disappeared, little girl. What have you been hunting?"

"The Spider."

"And have you killed him?"

"No, Mother, but—"

"Then come home. We have other plans."

"Yes, Mother, but I must speak to you."

"After we've bathed you. I can smell this foul city on you just from hearing your voice."

Ana dressed quickly. Left Peter and her fellow broodmare still sleeping. They weren't predators; at least not her breed. They hunted during the day. She was nocturnal.

***

Their outpost was an office in the Empire State Building, easily reachable by private elevator and window, hidden in plain sight. A shell company rented the small room, the door was frosted glass and a lawyer's name; inside was everything they needed to operate in New York. Ana entered the usual way and found the rooms empty, their tools and weaponry lying silent. Only when she entered the bathroom did she find her mother, a vision floating in the bathtub. Seeing her, Sasha stood.

"You stink of a man," Sasha said, the water dripping off her as effusively as her disdain. "Were you raped?"

"No, Mother."

"Then you took a lover."

"Yes, Mother."

"And when were you planning on bringing him to me? When his seed grew in your belly?"

"No, Mother—it's complicated."

"Foolish girl. Foolish,

American

girl. I should be leaving right now, without so much as a towel, to rip his throat out for laying hands on you. Is that the attention you wish from me?"

"No, Mother."

"Strip. In the tub, now. Since you wish to act like a little girl, I'll wash you like one."

"Yes, Mother."

Sasha watched her daughter's body come out as Ana took her clothes off. She focused her hawkish eyes on Ana's lithe young flesh, her tiny, firm nipples, her pear-shaped breasts. Wisps of yellow pubic hair peeked from between her closed thighs, adorned with dried seed.

Sasha nodded. Ana was no longer a child. She was a woman now. Sasha had put off finding her a husband for too long. She had now committed the same transgressions of her flesh as her father had with the whore Calypso, and yet Sasha could not be too angry with her. It tied her together even more closely with Sergei, and Sasha enjoyed seeing any sign of the great hunter in her flesh and blood.

Sasha stepped out of the bath. Ana stepped in. Obediently splayed herself from one end of the tub to the other. She looked up at her mother's firm, muscular body looming over her, seeing the scars and tattoos, but also the rounded beauty in her breasts and bottom, a resemblance between her close-cropped hair and her shorn pubis. She stared at Sasha's sex, thinking of Felicia's, the soft fringe of hair like lewd thoughts preceding a fuck, the glint of soft pink lips, the hint of a clitoris begging to be touched.

Ana's mother had a beautiful cunt. She wondered what Sasha thought of hers.

"M-mother," she began in a soft whisper, "have you ever been with a man excepting Father?"

Sasha scowled even as she blushed. "No. Never."

"But it's been so long! How could you spend so many years without love?"

"I was loved. I had you." Taking a soapy washcloth, Sasha lathered down the slender column of Ana's throat and across her smooth, tanned shoulders and down to the slimness of her waist and lower, over the swell of her hips. She drank in her creation's loveliness, moving last to Ana's thighs and the coating of sperm that Sasha assiduously wiped away. "I had my hatred, my mission. And I knew, know I can have your father back if only the proper choices are made."

"What if you didn't need him back? What if there were someone else?"

"The pretender?" Sasha scoffed. "Some

game show host

in the other world? No. I'd rather lie with your father as a corpse than accept such a cheap substitute."

Ana took Sasha's hand, feeling it tremble, and impulsively pressed it to her warm breasts. "Not him. Someone special. A predator, like Father was, but even more powerful, more cunning. A hunter of the most dangerous prey; this city's villains. He captures them again and again, always alive, always armed with little more than his wits and his might."

"One of the heroes?" Sasha asked. "Who would have us?"

"I've already been given over to him." Ana looked lovingly at her mother, loving her more this moment than ever before, feeling now that all her confusion and pain was shared by this, her closest, truest family. "He has two broodmares already. They are not enough to satisfy his lusts."

"What are you saying?"

"If we keep going, you will have Father, but I will have no one. But if you join me, we can both have him. We'll be more than mother and daughter. We'll be sisters."

"Out of the question! I won't be some whore! Ana, remember the plan. We will bring your father back, we will slay the Spiders one by one. Remember the boy in the other world who wronged you so. He will be brought low, his women bled before him, and I will spare his life only so that he may serve you. My daughter. My great love. Open your thighs, Ana."

With a gentle hiss, Ana rolled her legs apart, and Sasha fully saw her daughter's slit, the reddish color to its labia, swollen with desire, the blonde hair that had been absolutely drenched in the evidence of her fucking. Sasha remembered when Sergei had so blessed her. Perhaps it was the memory—it had to be the memory—but she felt her throat tighten, her chest grow tighter still.

Sasha took a deep breath and brought the washcloth under the water, to Ana's waiting sex, where she stroked it back and forth.

It was warm to the touch.

"The boy might satisfy me," Ana said, moaning from the sudden contact. She tried to stop herself from reacting openly, but her body tingled every time the rough-edged cloth moved over her. "But the man... the man

possesses

me. How long has it been, Mother, since you were taken, properly, wholly, as a lioness is had by her jungle king?"

Sasha nearly growled. The last few years had been frustrating. She hoped her daughter would never experience such... need.

Ana continued, taking the first quiet lunge. "I was well-used by the men you sent me to... but it was not always unpleasant. Like an unaimed shot, sometimes their fumbles in the dark would spark something in me. I would come back and pull on that thread—in the loneliness of my own room—touch myself, learn my whole body like a blind woman feeling something in the blackness. I know now what I sought—what the man gives me—that spear-plunge of wellness inside me. It relaxed me so; chilled my blood. I always felt bad about that, like I had betrayed you. But you've done it too, Mother. Haven't you?"

Sasha continued to brush her daughter's pubic hair with the wet cloth, moving down one soft thigh and up the other. Something stabbed through Sasha. Like her first kill, she was partly repulsed, partly captivated. She drew the washcloth over Ana's moon-shaped buttocks, then back to her valley. The thing stabbed deeper into her.

"Yes. But I only ever thought of your Father!"

Ana shuddered and gasped for air, her trembling legs spread wider for her mother's touch, one leg out of the tub, dripping over the side. "What did you use? The handle of a hairbrush? The hilt of a dagger?"

"Only my fingers," Sasha said, and saw her hands at Ana's crotch. It was like she had never seen them before. She didn't look, but she was acutely aware of her own sex—the place that had felt her touch so often.

Ana looked over intently at her mother's soft mound. The rest of her was dry. That was still wet. She imagined Peter's cock spearing in and out of that wet cunt, filling it with overflowing semen, and her fingers working inside it, teaching Sasha the same lovely pleasure Felicia had taught her.

Ana spoke as if in a trance, as if her lovely Peter were telling her what to say. "I used to use the blue hairbrush... you gave it to me when I was twelve for killing that bear." Her voice was lost in a feverish hush. "One of the men you sent me to, he used a vibrator on me. It made me feel so much better than any of them had. When I left, I took it with me. Stole it..."

Sasha swallowed hard. She was agitated by Ana's immodest talk—they rang with blasphemy. She had always been so ashamed, needing her fingers to curtail the unwanted hunger that grew in her as stubbornly as a cancer. She had never thought to use anything else. To taint something else with her wayward lust.

Her stomach was a cage. She had built it around a thousand butterflies, captured within her on every long, lonely day. As Ana spoke of what she did with her vibrator, Sasha felt her breasts throb. Her own daughter was exciting her. And Ana's dainty pink groin, the clitoris that nestled within, they were becoming sweetly erect. Drawing her in...

Ana stared openly at Sasha's sex. She droned on mercilessly. "I'd sit on my bed—I'd wait for the urge to come—it grew inside me and I'd try to resist it, for you, Mother. But I always reached for the vibrator. I'd always let it buzz and tickle at my panties, until they were too hot and wet to wear, then I'd draw them aside. Spread my legs. My little friend... I'd run it up and down my cunt, Mother. And when it was nearly there... when it was too big for my body... I'd push it inside myself. I'd squeeze it inside me. Sometimes I wished you would find me like that, so you could tell me what to do..."

"Ana, don't..." Sasha begged, feeling a deep wetness inside her. It only got worse when she clenched her thighs together. "You're making yourself... upset."

Ana looked down, inside her spread legs. She looked past her hardened nipples, past her rich golden hair, to the coral smooth flesh of her sex. She placed a tentative finger there. It went right in.

"It feels so good, Mommy..."

And as she gently stroked the moist crevice inside, hips undulating in bounds of waves against her own hand, Ana looked sideways to her mother's sex—to the enticing pink flesh, the honeydew droplets forming uncontrollably, Sasha's body making an invitation her mind could not. Ana could smell the sweet feminine scent like it filled the room. She reached out, her fingers tentative, trembling, and touched Sasha's lower belly... her inner thighs. Circling the wet-hot edges of the pussy so much like her own. The feeling was satin, warmth, softness... so good to the touch.

Sasha gasped as she moaned. "What... what are you doing?" She jerked, whole physique convulsing from Ana's lancing touch.

It was pleasure. Undeniable pleasure to a body that had grown overused to its absence. She looked down to Ana's golden triangle, the taut ruby lips within, the ceaselessly working fingers. Knew that the same thing was happening between her legs. Passion was convulsing in her belly and her sex, Ana's fingers stroking like feathers. Sasha arched her back, arms spreading to either side of her, and knew she would come from this.