Peter woke up with the kink in his neck gone and Mary Jane against his chest, under his arm. His spider-sense let him distangle from her without raising an alarm, and he circled his arms and shoulders a few times to confirm that the lingering aches and pains of his last fight had healed. It always amazed him how a good night's sleep could help with that. He should use it more often.
He went to the bathroom, relieved himself, washed the sleep off his face, and brushed his teeth before filling a small glass with tap water and drinking it down. Not a bad start to the day, he thought, letting out a satisfied 'ah!' as the swallow washed down the dryness in his throat.
He tossed the rest of the water down the drain and walked back into the bedroom to find that it hadn't taken long for his absence to wake Mary Jane. She was lying there in bed, the sheet drawn down so that it was only between her legs, and her hand down there as well, completing the outrageous pose as her fingers stirred and circled under the blanket.
"Do you know what day it is today?" she asked him, her voice thick with arousal.
Peter blinked. "Whatever it is, I really hope it come around more often."
"It's your birthday," MJ said. "Get back into bed."
"But we just... last night..." Peter said, a bit bewildered, a little out of practice. It hadn't been long since he and Mary Jane had gotten back together, after all, and them splitting up hadn't been long since she'd been dead.
Not that he was complaining. Last night had been great. Mary Jane going to sleep naked had been great. MJ waking up naked was even better. And Mary Jane touching herself while trying to tag him in to take over...
Well, he didn't know what that was. His brain wasn't built to compute that sort of thing. A hundred years of MJ and he wouldn't be able to compute that. Making sense of it after being back in her life for two weeks was sheer impossibility.
Mary Jane's masturbation only grew louder and more frantic as he watched, because he watched. "Oh yeah, Peter, come here. Get over here!" she cried, her little pussy beginning to throb and moisten the way it never had for anyone else.
Peter might've been neurotic, sometimes even a little tone-deaf, but he wasn't stupid. "Okay, get your cute ass in the air," he said.
MJ yelped with joy and rolled onto her hands and knees, the sheet falling away from her perfect ass, the fine white skin begging for a groping hand or a stinging slap to give it a little color. Peter moved behind her.
"Didn't get enough last night, eh?" he said to MJ as he spread her silky pink slit and positioned himself against her.
"Tiger, I'll never get enough of your prick!" Mary Jane breathed, squirming in anticipation.
Peter leaned into her. The tight ring of her pussy resisted for a moment. Then yielded; four inches of his member squeezed into her tightly clasping channel.
"Oh, it's going in!" Mary Jane whined in delicious discomfort, pushing back eagerly. "Ohhhh, that's so damn good!"
"Ughhhhh," Peter said, stroking in hard, burying his rigid shaft to the balls. "Don't worry, red, I've been just as horny for your little cunt... I'll give you just the kind of hard fucking you like the best!"
Mary Jane gasped with excitement at her husband's words. She hadn't heard such dirty talk in far too long, and now she realized just how much she had missed it. "Peter, I've been needing this fuck for so long now! You're the dearest husband in the whole world. I love you so much, Peter!"
Peter shook his head at his wife's beauty as she contorted herself in an even more pornographic position, squeezing herself down against the mattress as her ass was hoisted into the air. Here she was, young and beautiful and famous, turning to him of all people for the sexual pleasure she so richly enjoyed. He couldn't quite believe that he was the only one who could give her what he needed, but still, he allowed himself a surge of pride that he was who she had chosen to satisfy her.
Actually, his rutting thrusts were not so different from others Mary Jane had known—big athletes who would be shocked that Peter was more than their equal in strength and... size. But there were other vast differences in their styles. For one thing, unlike most jocks, Peter had seduced her instead of just shoving his cock into her with no foreplay.
Last night, at least, he had kissed her, petted her, fingered her, and then eaten her out, all before beginning to fuck her. And for another thing, while he fucked her, he talked to her and kissed her and played with her tits. Far too many men felt as if it were an act they were doing completely alone, and that all they needed from Mary Jane was her pussy. But it was not that way with her Peter, who needed her kisses and her loving, naughty words.
She let loose a string of them now. She'd been too exhausted to keep going last night—starting their fuck at midnight, she would've sang Happy Birthday if her mouth hadn't been busy with one thing or another. Moans, sucking, things came up. By 2, she'd been too weak to continue, and Peter had taken that to mean they were finished.
Oh no. Mary Jane might've been contented, but she was far from satisfied, and a good night's rest had revived her. Now she would finish what she started. As impossible as it was, the goal she'd set was for Peter's balls to be empty for a month. In coming weeks, she wouldn't mind failing there, but for now, she would be giving it the college try.
For Peter--he knew that his wife had been sexually frustrated for so long that it was as though there were a long series of pent-up orgasms which had just been awaiting release. And now those orgasms were shooting through her, making her body writhe and shudder. Even as his own ears burned, he tried to make it a little better: "Unnnnhhh, Jesus!" he groaned. "You're gonna make me come!"
"Yes, go for it, tiger!" MJ screamed. "Fuck me as hard as you can!"
Mary Jane put the lie to any edgelord bull about love just being pheromones, chemicals in the brain, sex just a meaningless assembly of opposing body parts. He got thirsty, he drank, he was quenched. He got hungry, he ate, he was full. But when he needed Mary Jane, he could never get enough of her. The more he got, the more he wanted. It was a delicious torment, a wonderful contradiction that concluding their sex would only lead to washing up together and eating breakfast together and talking together and wishing each other goodbye and thinking about her and reuniting after glorious, excruciating apartness. He needed more of her and he got more and more and more of her, whatever they were doing, wherever she was, just by having her in his life and knowing she loved him.
He came, filling her, warming her, feeling the flush of heat go through her body as if he'd woken her to the true passion he held for her. She moaned happily and kissed him, unable to say with words that she felt the same way, and he slopped his emptied prick from the saturated folds of her sex. A great, creamy flow of jizz flooded out of her and soiled the mattress. Cum ran off the edges and dribbled to the floor noisily.
"God, Peter!" Mary Jane breathed. "I could've sworn I swallowed a pint the other night, but then all this!" She couldn't hide her happiness, even when she'd worked so hard to swallow instead of spit the other night, to prevent exactly this from happening. Looked like one of Peter's birthday presents would have to be a new set of sheets. "Where do you keep it all?"
"Well, according to reliable sources," Peter said, lying down next to her, "your purse."
"Why is it you're so much funnier with the mask on?"
"Stage fright?"
"Uh-huh." Shuddering a little, Mary Jane lifted herself up off the bed. That would've been hard a minute ago, when it was so damn comfortable, but her own sweat on the topsheet was very motivating. "And now I need coffee."
"If it's my birthday, then I'm sleeping in," Peter said, cradling his hands behind his head.
