When The Sun Is Shining 3 (Patreon)

“We have a saga. Like an epic movie. And the only one who could play you is you.”

Then she felt his hands again, really getting into her as they ran back up her legs, coming closer and closer to the warmth of her crotch. She tightened, heated up, wondering how far he’d go. His strong hands worked her outer thighs, then higher, closer, so much power in them but also so much control. He knew exactly how gentle to be with her… and how gentle not to be. And his diligently working fingers were only an inch now from her red thatch. Her heart felt like it would burst.

Then she felt just the tiniest contact of his finger on her sensitive labia lips. He was testing her, seeing what her reaction would be to a touch there, a touch at its most intimate. Brief enough to almost be an accident—a split-second flicker of being connected to him that lasted only long enough for her to know pleasure was the predominant feeling of her response. There was embarrassment too, worry about being caught, but only enough to excite her. Peter’s touch was as knowing as a man could be with her body. He was aware of exactly what she liked and he gave her just a little, to prepare her for what was coming next.

I can’t allow this, she told herself sternly. I’ve already let him undress me: now he’s going to fuck me too? Out here, in the open, where anyone can see? Where it would be so… thrilling…

She was speechless; unable to come up with the words to stop him. It was so much easier to simply lay there, with her eyes closed, and yet she felt bold in her surrender. Even triumphant. Like it was her that was making the audacious move that ended in Peter’s hand resting firmly against her sex.

Mary Jane was just about at a loss for words. “So uh… is there, uh… is there anything you want to ask me? Now that I’ve interrogated you?”

“No. I just want to hear you say how big I am. Like you always do.”

He had all of her swollen pussy in his hand, pressuring it, making the wetness that came wash directly into his palm. Then he pressed a finger between the engorged lips of her womanhood—slanted it up to stroke her little clit.

Pleasure whited out Mary Jane’s vision and made her mouth open in a scream that didn’t have enough energy to be audible. His finger moved on the tender bud and it felt amazing. Mary Jane was aware of wetness leaving her body, soaking Peter’s hand.

“This isn’t fair, Pete... You’re used to witty repartee while dodging explosives… but you want me to banter when I’m almost having an orgasm?”

“I could go on and give you an orgasm. Would that make you less distracted?”

“You really—shouldn’t!” She couldn’t let him keep doing this. It had gone much too far. This wasn’t even remotely proper. Not that she was a remotely proper lady, but she still drew the line at letting her husband play with her clit and fondle her naked pussy outdoors. It had to stop! Not that she ever wanted it to stop… “Peter, I mean it! Don’t—stop!”

He took his hand away. She was relieved, then frustrated, then both. And then Peter grabbed her and twisted her onto her back. It happened so fast that it felt like he’d mounted her: suddenly he was overhead of her and there was nowhere to run. And since he’d undone all those little straps, her clothes just fell away, leaving Mary Jane with nothing on her but Peter’s eyes.

He crouched over her, enjoying his look at what he’d so thoroughly fondled. “Just to clarify, was that you telling me to stop or telling me don’t stop? Because you know I’d hate not to give you exactly what you want…”

Mary Jane went even more scarlet than usual. “I’m not some cheap hussy, tiger. So if you want me out here, in front of God and the pigeons and everybody, you’d better make it worth my while!”

Now Peter was on top of her, pinning her down with his weight—not that there was anywhere she’d rather be. “Don’t I always? I can’t remember the last time I didn’t make you—”

“Now would be a horrid time to start.”

“You know what I’m starting.” He kissed her, and whatever cry Mary Jane let out was muffled anyway. She felt herself dizzying with pure vertigo, the only solid thing Peter’s tongue in her mouth, and she sucked on it, hoping she was driving Peter as wild as the feel of his body drove her…

His strong chest pressed down on her naked bosom, warm flesh stimulating her hard nipples. His crotch joined with hers, throbbing manhood eased between her legs. Mary Jane felt it pulse with energy, right against her engorged clit. It always surprised her some, just how long and thick and stiff he could be—and yet even skintight spandex never gave the game away.

She wrenched her lips away from his and gasped “Oh Peter, you’re always so big!”

He smirked. “Such an actress. You still sound surprised.”

“It does surprise me, when I think of where that thing has been and yet right now I’d swear it’s too much for me…”

“It is too much for you. You’re going to take it anyway.”

Mary Jane hummed pleasantly. God, she wanted him, wanted this. She could’ve screamed, inundated with flash-memories of when she’d gotten it in the past, how good it had been. She could best remember it now, when her anticipation was at a fever pitch, so she knew how much it would take to satisfy her and yet Peter always did just that.

And it would be so easy this time, not that it was ever hard. She was naked. He wore only his trunks. He only had to take it out, enter her—their bodies knew the rest of the dance. Mary Jane growled with frustration; sometimes she wished Peter wasn’t so considerate. If he were playing hard-to-get and she wanted him like she wanted him now—oh, she would’ve gotten it, right now she would’ve gotten it!

Peter licked her earlobe. “Last chance to back out. Is that what you want? Get dressed… go back to the apartment… do it nice and slow on the bed where no one can see—”

“I don’t care if anyone sees!” Mary Jane sobbed.  “Just don’t make me wait! I can’t fucking wait!”

A tear had filled her enough to spill onto her cheek. Peter licked it away. “You know, you really are the only one. Not Felicia, not anyone else. It could only work with you.”

“Peter, you’d better show me it’s working right now!”

Peter smiled into her ear. “You know what I like about you, Red? I’m the only one that knows what a slut you can be.”

He slid down, his head bowed, trailing light kisses over her bare cleavage. His tongue came out, red and hot, and Mary Jane’s small pink nipples disappeared under it.

Mary Jane gasped with pleasure. Even when she was on fire, Peter took the time to make her feel good. Just like he would make it hurt a little, despite how many times she’d taken it. She liked the contrast: soft enough to get all of him, yet him being hard enough that it had a wondrous bite to it.

“No more begging. No whining,” Peter cooed. “Just relax. You know I’m going to let you have it. Don’t worry. I’m just going to play with you first. You like being played with. I’m trying hard enough to make you like it, aren’t I?”

Then his warm mouth, so soft and yet doing such harsh things, was on her left nipple. And all she felt was what it did there. “Ohhhh!” Mary Jane sung out.

She hadn’t meant to surrender so definitively. She wanted to tease him as much as he was teasing her, but she just couldn’t help it. It felt too good to have him sucking on her. MJ dropped back, limp and panting, knowing he could do whatever he wanted with her and whatever he did, she would enjoy it.

Peter went to her other dainty nipple, sucking it until it was even harder than it had been, then he went back to her left breast, the nipple practically thrumming with how good it would feel if he just kissed it some more.

And he was still between her legs, where she could feel his stiff erection throbbing against her horny little clitoris like its masculine drive to shaft into her was already possessing it, pushing into the sensitive split where that organ was meant to go. All fierce heat and impossible hardness. Even his trunks couldn’t blunt the frisson she felt attacking her womanhood, telling her how good it would feel once it was inside her sheath. The frustration was so manifest that it was almost intoxicating… his cock was actually touching her and yet she wasn’t fucking him. No, he wasn’t fucking her!

“I don’t care what Felicia wears,” Peter said between those little suckles that drove her almost insane with every passing moment. “You have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Y-yes, Pete!” The words vibrated out of her. “You’ve proven that very… scientifically! But don’t you think—”

“I think you deserve a climax like the one I’m going to give you,” Peter told her. “Once I’ve shown you just how devoted I am to the lovely Mrs. Watson-Parker!”

Mary Jane was going to say she didn’t need any proof of that: but Peter was lowering himself down her exposed body and her flesh screamed that it wanted him to, it really really wanted him to. She let him open up her legs and look right at her bare pussy and then he was there between her thighs, tasting.

“AHHHHHHH!” Mary Jane cried.

It was too much. Too much to resist, too much to bear, too much to thank him for. She could’ve been longing for this for years or just seconds, it was still the most exquisite pleasure, the final proof of Peter’s familiarity, even mastery, of her body. He was as expert in touching her there as he was everywhere else. His tongue trickled all over her aroused slit, from the clit that sung out with enjoyment to her little clenched anus that also resounded blissfully at the teasing of his tongue.

Mary Jane’s eyes crossed. There would be no protesting anymore. Whatever Peter wanted to do was fine with her. So long as it felt like this, and she knew it would. Peter would set himself on fire before he displeased her. That massage had done more than wear away her resistance. It made her so horny she felt positively sex-starved and now there was no denying herself relief. Especially when it was Peter, her perfect magnificent husband—it was just as good to know that the man she loved could make her feel this way as it was to be fucked!

He pressed his slick tongue into her clit and licked it by degrees, treating every little iota of it to a little tonguing. Giving the most sensitive spot on her body the worship it deserved for producing so much delight in Mary Jane.