Peter rolled onto his back, taking Mary Jane with him so her exquisite body was beached on top of his, belly to back, her asshole still impaled on his cock. Mary Jane trilled in distress at the shift while he was lodged into sodomizing her; Peter felt like apologizing, soothing her with caressing hands, but then Mary Jane groaned. Her anal muscles clenched on his prick. And he realized the brusque motion had only turned her on.
He looked down his body, Mary Jane's figure painted over his, and tightened his grip on her dimpled waist. Her svelte form cried out to him with its alluring curves. One touch, one
look,
and he wanted to spend hours just tracing the contours of her perfect body.
He held her above his groin, keeping her own weight from dragging her down onto his sodomizing manhood before she was ready for it. Yet he could see Mary Jane's hips twitching. She tried to force herself down, to ass-fuck herself even more, and Peter let out a laugh at how well he knew her. They were too perfect a match for MJ to ever balk at a sex game he truly wanted to play.
Peter slipped his hands under her armpits, wrapped his legs around hers so their limbs were intertwined. Mary Jane in a full nelson, able to hold herself away from her own sodomy, but also able to lower herself and indulge her newfound appetite as much as she wanted. Peter's fingers ended up in Mary Jane's hair and he petted those fiery tresses, showing just how much he loved them, while also pulling, tugging a little. Spurring MJ on to relieve the need he'd felt the first time his cockhead touched her anus.
With her legs locked together with Peter's, Mary Jane knew the full heft of Peter's length. It felt much bigger in her ass than it even did in her cunt, but she could still tell there was much more to take before her ass was grinding into Peter's lap like she wanted. Having taken it all, just like Felicia prided herself on.
Her thighs clenched. She brought herself down, bringing his swollen cockhead up into the tightness of her anus. Mary Jane cried out: the scream of a woman experiencing so much ecstasy that it was agonizing.
Peter watched her ram herself down onto his endowment, partly wishing he could see her pink sphincter part to absorb his prick, but how he loved seeing her head thrown back against his shoulder, her lips parted, her mewling rapture as she fought through the pain to sheer pleasure.
With his knob stuffed into her reluctant asshole, Mary Jane rolled her hips, belly undulating, breasts jiggling as she came down again and further violated the tightness of her own ass. Peter pumped his own hips, snapping up into Mary Jane, his hands now holding her body still, making her take his lunge.
His balls slapped against the dewy wetness of her sex and Mary Jane's head rolled against his shoulder with a satin-smooth whisper of her hair caressing his chest, his throat. She cried out again, painfully, but Peter couldn't feel a single part of her body that had clenched up, become resistant. She only wanted more, even if it hurt.
Peter didn't let her have it. He webbed her hands into place, stretched up to the headboard, and grasped her hips. His tight grip held her absolutely still, her asshole gulping and twitching around his motionless prick. This wasn't anything new to Mary Jane. He'd paralyzed her with webbing, kept her encased without movement in the bondage he wove.
MJ knew she wouldn't move until she pleased him. Sometimes he made her beg, sometimes he just made her moan—pleasuring her while she was helpless to do anything but receive however much satiation he wanted to give her.
