A moment after Mary Jane stepped into her dressing room, the door to the adjoining room opened and Kory was there, smiling brightly. “There she is!”
“Here I am!” Mary Jane agreed.
“Did you get my flowers?”
“Yes.” She set down her purse at her vanity, sitting down to take off her shoes. “So how do you prefer to be addressed? Koriand’r?” she asked, with a passable pronunciation of the alien word. “Princess?”
“Just Kory’s fine,” Kory said brightly. “And may I call you MJ? Such a delightful nickname!”
MJ nodded. “Trading nicknames with Starfire. Feels like any minute now, we’re gonna be on a squad with Taylor Swift.”
“I already have a squad,” Kory said seriously.
Mary Jane smiled to herself. Between Peter, Miles, Anya, and all the rest, it was beginning to feel like she did too. “You got the stuff?” she asked in noir movie nasal.
Kory nodded, reaching back inside her dressing room to bring out a box. She tossed it to MJ, who caught it and then struggled a moment under its weight. Sometimes, Kory forgot her own strength.
MJ set it down and opened it, nodding in confirmation that these were the same designs that had been e-mailed for her approval and not, say, a gimp suit.
“Well then, let’s get on with it.”
Mary Jane unzipped the back of her dress, sliding it down from her shoulders as Kory watched. Her body was long and lush, the curves sensuously rounded, the skin creamy and well-tanned. If Kory’s skin was golden, then MJ’s was a deep bronze. No wonder they had been booked together. They seemed like two skilled, but differing artist’s take on the same lovely vision: Kory with the lush sexuality she took such pride in, and Mary Jane with a more slender, classical look that reminded Kory quite a bit of her friend Donna.
“Always a little awkward,” Mary Jane said apologetically. “Meeting someone just before you’re next to naked with them.”
“Well, it beats having to wait to see them naked,” Kory joked, and MJ whirled on her to see the adoring grin on her wide face. She smiled back.
“I suppose it is. I’m a huge fan of your aesthetic. I almost can’t believe someone would want us on the same shoot.”
“I almost can’t believe they can afford the two of us.”
“It is for charity. I lowered my rate a lot.”
The charity was the kind that put the ‘self-interest’ before ‘enlightened.’ A lingerie company, Pink of Perfection, had noted how many seamstresses were among the refugees from the Latverian incident. Now it was putting out a call for them to work in its factories, making handcrafted underwear. Three times as expensive as usual, not an ounce of difference as far as MJ could tell. But it was money in their pockets, and every little bit helped. Besides, her agent kept telling her to keep her face in the papers.
“Me too.” Though in Kory’s case, it had a lot more to do with the chance to work with Mary Jane and her lovely husband.
She also began to shrug out of her clothes, unable to help a little feeling of loss as she took off the cut-off shirt and jeans she’d entered in. Attractive the lingerie she modeled would no doubt be, but surely not as comfortable as the clothes she’d been wearing. Especially since she’d been ‘going commander.’
“Oh!” Mary Jane said gently, regarding her nudity. Kory smiled proudly, putting her hands on her hips to bask in the attention. She was glad she met with MJ’s approval.
“Where’d you put the, ah, merchandise?”
“Over here,” Mary Jane said, eager to look away with the excuse of guiding Kory to the box of samples. Something about how unabashed and prideful Kory’s nakedness was just struck her. As a model, an actress, and a superhero’s wife, she was no stranger to very attractive people in very different states of undress, but seeing Kory’s exuberant confidence was just… enthralling.
She reached into the box, picking up one set of bra and panties. The bra was more than adequate for her modest, but full cleavage. She was guessing that wasn’t the intent. “I think this one’s yours,” she said, handing it over to a grateful Kory. Then she picked up her own. Much more scanty. Between the two pieces, there was maybe enough cloth for a decent bandanna, just in case she had to rob a bank. “These things get smaller every year.”
Kory said something alien with an unmistakable inflection of ‘pish posh.’ “Try it on! I bet you’ll look wonderful! Uncomfortable, but wonderful.”
Mary Jane gave her a knowing grin. She could only imagine what it was like to go into battle in what looked like metal fetish wear. Once again, she was glad to have a husband who was golden-retriever glad just to see her in a T-shirt and jeans.
Of course, MJ thought, eying her reflection in the dressing room mirror, she’d look pretty damn good, even in a T-shirt and jeans.
“This isn’t so bad!” Kory said, flexing in her own helping of economy-sized tissue. “Real comfortable! Feels like I’m wearing nothing at all!”
“Looks that way too,” Mary Jane quipped. If Kory stepped in front of any bright lights, the only people willing to publish those pictures would be Penthouse or a medical textbook. Her voluptuous body was so exposed, Mary Jane was tempted to check if the set wasn’t a size too small for her. But then, Kory had said they were comfortable. And she seemed like the one person who could be comfortable, wearing or not wearing those things in front of other people.
Well, maybe Felicia Hardy… but then, even she only unzipped her catsuit so much…
Time to face the music. Mary Jane took off her own underwear, replacing them with a bra and panties that looked like they were meant for a different species than her boxers and full-cups. She wiggled the panties up first—two wisps of insubstantial gossamer, one blooming over her pubic mound, the other like a hand trying in vain to cover all of the crevice between her smoothly rounded buttocks. Not even halfway down her cheeks, it became a thong, leaving the undersides completely exposed. Was that the newest thing in fashion? ‘Underass’?
If the panties were unsuccessful in protecting her modesty, the bra didn’t even try. Though it gave her C-cups uplift she couldn’t complain about, it was also just translucent enough to make her uncomfortable, allowing the eye to ever so slightly penetrate to the nipples it was meant to be covering. Mary Jane looked in the mirror, shocked that she could recognize a few freckles through the frail, flimsy cloth that barely covered her cleavage to begin with.
If it were anyone other than Peter running the shoot, she would’ve gone to the director with a pair of sweatpants and a jersey, dead-set on not being photographed without one or the other.
“You look incredible!” Kory said, looking a second away from clapping her hands.
Mary Jane smiled at her—hard not to get swept up with Kory’s enthusiasm. On second thought, they weren’t that bad. As long as the lighting was dim, the photographs wouldn’t show anything except that the bra really was that alluring, her nipples (and softly curling pubic hair) evident, but not obvious. It would be risqué, but Mary Jane didn’t think she’d take too much attention. Not when Kory was there as well.
The very material of the lingerie looked flimsier than ever on Kory’s exuberant body, as if she would burst out of it at any moment. The thong panties seemed designed just for being pushed out of the way of sex, as that as all they covered, and her bra concealed even less, with panels of lace like the ribs of an umbrella, outright translucent on the wide expanses of her cleavage. MJ could just imagine Mr. Skin or whoever tallying up all the ‘nudity’. Sideboob, underboob, good old-fashioned cleavage.
And that thong, God—if you wanted to see more, you’d have to be a proctologist. If it were Mary Jane being asked to wear that outfit, she would just as soon pose nude.
“Ummm… you sure you want to wear that?” Mary Jane asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Kory turned around, giving herself a once-over. “Is my slip showing? Do I have a slip?”
“It’s just a little revealing, that’s all. And you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. We could put you in a blouse, button it up a little… it’d still be really sexy.” Disturbing sexy, even. MJ was having visions of Kory in one of Peter’s buttondowns, the thin layer of cotton between bra and eye suddenly making it tempting rather than… obvious.
“Oh, that’s all.” Kory smiled at her. “I don’t mind being photographed in such a way. I know your culture places a great deal of importance in nudity, but I can’t see the difference between my nipples being exposed and them being covered as so vast. I think this is a very becoming outfit, and I’m sure many people will be overjoyed to see me in it. As they will be to see you.”
“Okay. As long as you don’t mind.”
“MJ, your husband is an artist. I want to give him as great a canvas as possible to paint on.”
Mary Jane nodded at that. Even so, she put on a bathrobe for the trip to the set. It would be nice to have a lingering memory of modesty during the shoot. Besides, she’d like very much to see Peter’s reaction when she took it off.
Mary Jane had never thought of herself as a prude—being friends with Gwen Stacy would do that to you—but she did find herself wishing she had Kory’s confidence, the princess walking from the dressing room wearing only her Pink of Perfection creation, oblivious to the lecherous glances even from people who had been on hundreds of shoots. Mary Jane eyefucked them for her, and they soon had their drooling tongues pulled back into their mouths.
They made their way to the Graphics Studio, where the set dressers were putting their finishing touches on MJ and Kory’s home for the next ten hours or so. It was a vast, pink cloud, laboriously constructed out of some new kind of plastic Peter had been very excited about. Mary Jane and Kory would laze about it, looking as happy as possible to be wearing Pink of Perfection underwear.
And MJ would be happy to model for Peter; a closed set, with only three other people to handle make-up and lightning, and them either gay or women. Her agent had known just what strings to pull to get her to agree to the offer. Under these circumstances, it was easy to imagine she was just putting on a show for Peter, relaxed and comfortable even if this was the most revealing outfit she had ever modeled.
She found Peter checking his equipment, still with a freelancer’s diligence at making sure all his tools were well-cared-for and in proper order. “What do you think?” she asked, taking off her robe to hang it up on a peg.
The bug-eyes, the stammering, the pitched breathing—the pitched tent. She’d get the same response wearing a bullet bra and a set of boxers, but being dressed in the Pink of Perfection lingerie made her feel like she’d earned it. In fact, with the set closed and all, she was beginning to feel quite sexy.
“Mr. Parker?” Kory came up, offering her hand, the simple motion making her full, firm breasts sway back and forth with more temptation than Delilah. “I’m Kory. We’ve spoken on the phone, you and me and your lovely wife, of course! She’s told me so much about you.”
“Nothing about our Skrull infiltration of the fashion industry, I hope.”
Kory laughed richly. “I just want you to know, I completely trust your judgment and I’ll do whatever you say. So let’s take some photos of me in my underwear!”
She hurried over to get on the cloud, the technicians waiting to appropriately light her and give her a last-minute touch-up.
“A lot to take in, isn’t she?” Peter commented to Mary Jane.
“Only when she turns around,” MJ replied. She lightened her voice to match Kory’s breathy words. “Tell me what to do, Mr. Photographer…”
“Just get up on the cloud. And try not to get too close to Kory’s hair, it might be hungry.”
The next two hours passed quickly. Mary Jane was busy every minute, posing, changing positions, smiling, pouting, laughing, all to either Peter’s direction or whatever ideas she came up with. The photos taken today would be used throughout the campaign, a vast backlog of them to be drawn upon for years to come. Old modeling photos never died, they were just Photoshopped into oblivion. As Mary Jane smiled for the camera, she considered that she would probably be a mother before that grin had faded from shopping bags and underwear packages.
It was intensive work, but she had an easy rapport with Peter and he knew how to make her look good. Kory was less familiar with their working relationship, but she was good at what she did, concentrating on the work with all her energy, Peter never needing to repeat himself when giving her directions. Occasionally, they stopped to change the lighting or swap one set of lingerie for another. Tasting the rainbow, Mary Jane called it, going from a black demi-cup to a red balconette.
Modest or no, she was a married woman, and although she knew Peter wasn’t some jock to make a fuss about her wearing a revealing outfit or changing clothes in the middle of the shoot, she thought it gave him some peace of mind to take the extra time to go behind the dressing screen and change there.
Kory didn’t bother with that, changing her bra, her panties without a care as to who was watching. Mary Jane knew that was typical of models, and Kory wasn’t being teasing or demonstrative, just switching out one set for another. Still, her full-bodied voluptuousness made even those brisk motions one hell of a show. Even Mary Jane was drawn to it. And Peter, who had dated the Black Cat, tended to bury himself in checking his camera while Kory was doing it.
Mary Jane shouldn’t have minded. So, the same way she wanted to spare Peter’s feelings by being a little modest, he wanted to spare her feelings by not looking at a naked woman who wasn’t her. It was kinda sweet, actually. But the Irish in her resented the idea that Peter should look away from Kory, that there was some temptation there or that Mary Jane would be jealous or that she had something to be jealous of.
It didn’t make much sense, she knew. What mattered was that she felt challenged by Kory’s free-wheeling irresponsibility, and no matter how friendly her rivalry with another woman, MJ liked it best when it ended with her one-upping them. Felicia dated Peter, she married him. Calypso tied Peter up and whipped him, she…
Well, she made sure Peter would think of her in reference to that situation. She was a lady, not a nun.
So, emboldened by Kory, dared by her, Mary Jane stopped Peter the next time he finished a roll of film. “Hey, tiger?”
“Yeah?” he replied, gesturing for Fritz to change the lighting arrangement so a shot of Mary Jane arching her chest wouldn’t allow her nipples to be seen from space.
“I was just thinking… we’re selling underwear, right?”
“I’d hate to think we were selling something else.”
“So us girls and the underwear have to be on camera together.”
“That helps, yeah.”
“But we don’t have to be wearing the underwear, do we? Maybe I could just…”
She turned her back to him, taking off her bra, then sliding the thin, silky panties down her thighs. Inching carefully about so a crest of the fake cloud covered her ass, she crossed her arms over her chest and crossed her legs over her groin, hanging the bra over one shoulder, holding the panties at her side—dangling from a single finger.
“Jesus,” Peter said. “That is good.”
Even Kory had to stare, Mary Jane seeming to feel her eyes anew with every flash of Peter’s camera onto her shapely breasts, her partially exposed ass. Enjoying herself immensely, Mary Jane gave a mischievous grin to Kory, who returned it—seeming somehow lascivious with the way it cocked her full lips.
“You look so gorgeous,” Kory breathed, circling MJ. “I can’t wait to see how the pictures turn out. Can you do me too? Please?” She looked to Peter as if for permission. “I want your wife to do me, pretty please?”
“Yeah, Pete. Of course.”
Mary Jane approached Kory, who preened before her. Although anyone listening might’ve thought it was MJ’s force of personality, too strong for Kory to resist, Mary Jane felt like it was the other way around. Like Kory was cajoling Mary Jane into undressing her, posing her.
“Okay, I think—straddle that bit of fluff there.” With a submissive thrill, Kory did so, wrapping her legs around a crest of cloud. “And…” Kory untied her bikini bottoms, pulling away the ribbon of a thong so that now only this outcropping of puff hid her sex. Mary Jane nodded belatedly. “Yeah. And undo your bra—I think one cup covering your breast, and the other hanging down?”
“Can you help me?” Kory asked. “I always have a little trouble with bras. Guess that’s why I usually go without!”
Of course she does, Mary Jane thought, very loudly.
Again feeling the force of Kory’s charisma drawing her in—Kory’s sheer desire to please making MJ want to let herself be pleased—MJ reached behind her back for her, unfastening the brassiere. Kory’s heavy, mountainous cleavage fell forward out of its confinement, barely sagging, just assuming a more natural rest upon her chest. The bra cups hung from her loosely, but still close, like they were as reluctant as a living being would be to part from her breasts.
“And then…” Kory said, Mary Jane sucking in breath as she prepared for a sentence that seemed like it could end in any way. Any way at all. “One strap off?”
“Yes,” Mary Jane agreed, like it wasn’t her idea at all. She was being pulled into Kory’s orbit, sucked into the deep, pure green of her eyes. Moving with the slowness of a dream, she drew Kory’s shoulder strap up higher on her shoulder, so the cup hung naturally over her right breast without letting her nipple be seen. MJ looked down to double-check. Stopped. Between cups and flesh she saw that the vivid red of Kory’s nipples were swollen, turgid. But she could not know if Kory was aroused or if it was simply a trick of her alien physiology.
Kory held up her left hand, offering it to Mary Jane like she was a genteel lady waiting for a gentleman to kiss it. Mary Jane took it, the fingers were callused, tough like so many of the superheroes whose hands she’d shook, but the palm was soft and warm, the languidness that came after the kick of good whiskey. She raised Kory’s hand to her left breast, again shielding the hardened nipple from the camera’s eye—touching it with Kory’s fingers instead of her own.
“Mary Jane, don’t move,” Peter said, and she heard his camera whir, its lens extending into place. “This is one hell of a shot.”
Mary Jane stared into Kory’s eyes as the camera flashed, and thought that both of them were only seeing each other.
There was very little space in the dressing room for pacing, but still, Kory paced. How exciting. How truly exciting! She had been worried about doing a shoot without Donna, her personal photographer (and I, her pet model, Kory mused happily), but variety was the spice of life, as her favorite Earth saying went. W
hile sessions with Donna were relaxing and comfortable, this one had been invigorating. She felt alive, ecstatic, full of energy. The display of her body had not been as routine as it was with Donna, but instead had a strange frission. The others were clearly put off-guard by her nakedness, and she had enjoyed a sense of power over them—none of them, not even the so-beautiful Mary Jane Watson, able to look away.
She had had many more pictures taken, inside her lingerie and out, before Peter had declared the shoot was over: the pictures becoming routine, the poses becoming sluggish, the energy of the room dissipating. MJ had asked to see his work as he encrypted it to be sent to the Pink of Perfection marketing department, and together they had disappeared into Mary Jane’s dressing room, right next door to Kory’s.
They had been talking now for fifteen minutes, despite Kory having offered to buy drinks for the three of them as they discussed the next day’s plans: a location shoot! She had showered, wiping off all the goop of commercialized beauty, and dressed in proper attire for a night on the town: flattering, but nothing to draw attention from her friend Mary Jane, who as the male’s mate should be the star of the evening. But still, they had not emerged. Even with human tech, how long could it take to transfer files from one USB port to another, and then to e-mail them to the interested parties?
Her curiosity was overcoming her. She was always eager to learn more about Earth, as well as help people, and if there was something to learn, or something she could help with…
She went to the wall separating her room from Mary Jane’s. Her hearing was sharper than a human’s would be. Even through the drywall, she could hear voices amongst a low, wounded groaning. It was getting louder, cutting in and out like an erratic signal on a radio. She put her ear to the wall and focused, just in try to hear a sharp cry. Kory jerked her head back. It sounded—pleased.
She returned her ear to the wall.
“Finished? Then it’s my turn,” Peter was saying. “Come on, take it out.”
She heard Mary Jane’s voice dip low into husky excitement. “Oh, it’s so big! So big for me!”
Kory wondered what they were talking about. Was Peter giving his wife some kind of gift?
“MMMMH!” It was Mary Jane’s voice again, halfway between a groan and a sigh. And it sounded muffled somehow, like she had something in her mouth. Maybe Peter had given her a box of chocolates. Kory would dearly love to share a box of chocolates with her new friends…
She disliked the thought of spying on people, delving into the kind of secrecy and underhanded dealings that were one of the few things she disliked about Dick—but the temptation was too strong. She went to the door between their rooms and supinely floated down to waist height, putting her eye to the keyhole.
A moment later, when her eye had focused on the scene now revealed, she forgot quite how to fly and crashed to the floor a few feet below. Fortunately, she had quite a lot of padding.
“What was that?” Peter asked in the other room.
If Kory were still listening, and not frozen in an agonized cringe, she would’ve heard a bit of slurping before MJ answered. “Did it make anything—you know—tingle?”
“Then who gives a shit?”
After that, though she wasn’t looking and couldn’t hear, Kory had the impression that her voice was muffled once more.
She looked again. Just to make sure she’d seen what she thought she had.
Apparently, Mary Jane’s idea of removing the Pink of Perfection product had been a good one, because she’d stuck to it. Now it was lying forgotten on the floor, Kory seeing it first as her eye scanned up the room, the voluptuous curves of even the empty lingerie putting a shock of sexuality through Kory.
Then she saw Mary Jane. The woman had not changed back into her ‘civvies,’ at least not yet—and not for a while, judging by the pillow she’d put down on the floor, kneeling upon it in fond submission at Peter’s feet. Peter was still fully dressed, except for that one Earther quirk Kory so loved: his fly was down. As conservative as Earth fashion could be, it was wonderful how quickly it could get out of the way when sex was needed.
Kory’s lips stretched into a knowing smile as she saw both the thick, fat heft of Peter’s cock and what Mary Jane was doing with it. Those delicate fingers with their pink-printed nails were stroking it vigorously, pulling the foreskin back and forth over the massively engorged head of his shaft, both glossy with saliva. It took a moment to remove MJ’s fingers from the equation, but Kory worked out that Peter’s erection jutted out a good eight inches from his toned stomach, stopping to quiver inches from Mary Jane’s parted lips.
To a Tamaranian, there was nothing shameful or private about sex. Though for convenience’s sake it might be done in private, to avoid annoying or being annoyed by passersby, it was no more seen as obscene than eating in a restaurant would be for a human.
Indeed, on Tamaran, many buildings were the equivalent of Japanese ‘love hotels,’ where a couple—or more—could rent a large bed with any number of exotic properties and enjoy themselves in comfort. Frequently, these beds were not segregated, but a multitude of alcoves in a wall, or pits on a floor. With the addition of neighbors, these examples of semi-anonymous group sex were somewhat orgiastic; a much more accepted version of the glory hole found in Earth’s gay subculture.
And many Tamaranian homes had large windows, even in the bedroom, and the inhabitants thought nothing of catching the attention of bystanders as they made love. For some, with prodigious skill or physical attributes, these exhibitions could become grandly public affairs, ‘going viral’ or being held at vast halls where holographic scanning technology allowed the audience to observe the coupling as closely as they liked without disturbing it. The idea that one of these ‘penis concerts’ was indecent would be as well-received on Tamaran as calling offensive the earthly performance of a concert pianist.
So to Kory, the thought never crossed her mind that she was intruding on a private moment. She was quickly glued to the spectacle, watching it almost without blinking. She was not and would not have considered herself a voyeur, any more than a patron of the arts would be embarrassed to look at a Rembrandt. She did not just enjoy their physical beauty or the cathartic fantasy of participating in the same deeds that they were. She was enraptured by their obvious affection for one another: how Peter would caress Mary Jane’s hair or cheek, how Mary Jane would reach up just to feel Peter’s racing heartbeat, touch him just to be more immersed in their contact.
Kory saw no more wrong in cooing over a couple holding hands than in cooing over what Mary Jane was doing to Peter. She saw no difference between Dick whispering sweet nothings in her ear and what Mary Jane said to her husband.
“Would you like me to lick your balls?” Mary Jane asked. “Bet you’ve never had a supermodel suck your balls before…”
“Once or twice,” Peter croaked. He urged his cock forward, bouncing it off Mary Jane’s face, and she grinned before turning her head downward. She tickled her tongue at the base of his cock, just for a second, then moved down to softly scrap her tongue over his testicles.
“Do it!” Peter growled, taking a handful of her fiery red hair. “Lick—slap your tongue all over them! Oh yes!”
Her soft fingers held his cock vertical, pumping it gently as she twisted her face in one long kiss with his scrotum. Her tongue coiled around it, batting the balls from side to side, collecting the wrinkled skin in powerful laps that left his sack jostling when they were through.
“Now suck my balls,” Peter grunted. “Feel all the cum inside them…”
“Mmmm,” Mary Jane moaned, her lips folding over first one ball, then the other, sucking them softly on their way back out of her mouth. “All for me, tiger?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Shoulda known you’d have all this cum to deal with when you were silly enough to marry me…”
“And you should’ve known…” Mary Jane caught a swollen ball between her lips, rearing her head back to pull the skin of his scrotum taut before realizing. “What a dirty little slut…” She did it again, gazing up into his eyes as she suckled him, her eyes teasing. “You were marrying.”
She did it once more, but this time a string of precum oozed from his cock, landing down on her cheek. She let his ball slop from her mouth, glaring at his angry red erection with pure anticipation. “That all for me too, stud?”
“You… your mouth… your cunt… your ass…”
Kory nearly squealed in delight. They were adorable.
Mary Jane gave a lewd grin, her hand smearing the precum back along her face like war paint, before she moved in on the menacing cock. Her lips drawn closer and closer to it while Peter looked down at her with lust and love in equal measure—the look Kory liked best on anyone. She actually fell in love a little bit with Peter in that moment, just because he was so in love with Mary Jane.
Mary Jane’s hands worshipped at Peter’s cock, petting it until his foreskin was pulled back as far as it would go. Her tongue—so cute to Kory, like some darling little animal—flicked out in teasing strikes at his cockhead, its very tip dancing at the opening. Peter groaned (how could he not?) with a thin helping of precum stretching obscenely to Mary Jane’s smiling lips. She kissed it away, swayed back, and her tongue returned, slightly more heavy-handed in its strokes.
“Lick it right under the ridge,” Peter said hoarsely. “Feels so damn good.”
“Only if you take a picture,” MJ said, reaching up to grope the camera hanging from Peter’s neck. “I wanna see what I look like when I’m taking the cock of the man I love.”
“But MJ, I mean…” Kory sympathized with Peter. Hard to think when that tongue was there. “The Fappening…”
Kory tapped the lens—the shorter of the two telescoping shafts she was touching. “It shoots film, babe. We can develop them in our own darkroom, keep them in the safe. Hon, we live in Avengers Tower. No one will see…” She leaned forward again, running her tongue tantalizingly down the underside of his erect cock, kissing piquantly at his balls once she’d reached bottom. “But I wouldn’t care if they did. Seeing how big a cock my husband has. Seeing how much I love to suck on it. Seeing all the cum he gives me when he comes, comes so hard, all over my face and tits and in my mouth…”
Kory realized she had almost stopped breathing. There seemed to be no air by the door, or all of it stuffy, heavy and heated with the sheer sight of the two of them. She had to pull away, just to breathe, deep breath after deep breath until she was convinced she wouldn’t faint. Then she heard the click, the fizzle of a camera. She rushed back to the keyhole. Peter’s camera was pointed down at Mary Jane, catching her in the action as she steadily engulfed his cock with her rounded mouth, taking as much of his savagely hard cock into her throat as was humanly possible. Peter snapping away all the while.
Of course. How could he not? Mary Jane had asked him to.
For a moment, Kory worried. She was not sure that humans could deep-throat as well as Tamaranians, given what she’d seen of Donna during certain activities. She imagined Mary Jane choking herself from the sheer size of the phallus burying itself in her sucking mouth. But MJ had no problem with it. She showed every sign of enjoying herself immensely, staring up into the clicking camera with lustful eyes, eyes Kory wished were directed at her. Her tightly puckered lips closed around the base of Peter’s cock, just touching the gritty hardness of his pubic hair, and Kory wished she could feel that as well.
She began to touch herself, considering it no different than a music lover closing her eyes to better enjoy the sounds of the opera. Mary Jane’s cheeks bellowed in and out, the rhythm strangely beautiful in contrast to the noisy gurgling from her sucking. Kory adored both: the lewdness and the beauty, the sex and the love. She wondered if she looked like that when she was with Dick: eyes glowing with an almost masochistic lust, slavering over the weight and thrusting of a hard cock like she had waited all her life for it.
“That’s right, red,” Peter murmured softly, his camera clicking nearly continuously, devouring Mary Jane’s image as she devoured him. “Eat it… just like that… take it all… and suck.”
Mary Jane was desperate for him, mad for him. She locked her hands to his ass, groping it as pleasurably as she had his muscular chest, and her arms strained as she tried to pull him further and further into her cruelly stretched mouth. Peter looked down at her needfully contorted face, snapping photo after photo, MJ not caring, entirely focused on the cock plunging down her throat.
Peter moved his hips with obvious enjoyment, fucking into her obscenely vulnerable throat with greater and greater strength. His thrusts nearly threw Mary Jane off his cock; Kory could see her biceps bulge as she tried to hold him close regardless, her breasts shaking under her as the force of his fucking traveled through her body.
He’s going to choke her, Kory worried, even as she was aroused by the selfsame intensity of their passion. Donna couldn’t take a fuck like that, even with powers, would never let me be so rough. He’ll drown her with his cum—there must be a sea of it, an ocean!
Then Peter began to come.
A long, lustful breath shot from his throat, his hand clutching the back of her head: half brutal craving, half a need for support. Kory could tell the cum was shooting, thundering out of him with such power that his hips swung with every ejaculation, heavy balls slapping rhythmically against Mary Jane’s chin.
She seized his wildly firing cock with both of her hands in desperate need, opening her mouth wide to provide an easy target for the cum flooding the back of her throat. She hungrily swallowed the semen spraying in quick, elongated lashings, her obvious craving for it as lovely to Kory as Peter’s desperate surge to fill her mouth, but it was too much.
Kory watched, stroking herself fiercely, as first rivulets of cum ran over MJ’s chin, dropping ignored to her softly shaking breasts, then Mary Jane herself pulled free, now moaning as Peter came, out of control, thick streaks from him slapping against her face. Peter could only hold his camera in shaky, useless hands as his cock violently pounded, a continuous explosion that painted Mary Jane’s face one continuous shade of white.
At last, it came to a stop. Mary Jane, her eyes softened with a mist of decadently satisfied lust, opened her sperm-soaked mouth, displaying the cum that filled her mouth like water in a well. She gazed up at Peter expectantly and, slowly coming to his senses, he took a picture.
“Put that in your wallet,” Mary Jane said after a brisk swallow. “So you’ll always have a reminder of what a whore you married.”
“Why don’t you remind me right now,” Peter replied, “by licking me clean?”
Just hearing that, Kory came herself, in grunts and groans she only barely swallowed. “Mmmmmm… nghn… so good…” Like all the best orgasms, this only made her hungry for more. She wondered why she wasn’t in the room with them, so she could lick Peter’s cum away alongside Mary Jane, or eat that lovely creature out as Peter had.
Then she realized, and hot shame filled her as she knew what she had done.
It made her wonder how she could possibly make it up to them.
Kory listened to the shuffling of clothes being rearranged, then of a faucet running as Mary Jane presumably cleaned herself off. She even heard Peter opening up his camera to remove the roll of film and safely hiding it away. Every moment made her feel guiltier and guiltier.
As permissive as Tamaran was, it did have limits, and rules. There were those who preferred their lovemaking private, which was accepted and catered to. There were words in Tamaran for such, and once they’d identified themselves, plans involving them were gently adjusted and invitations to improper events were curtailed. To Kory, it felt just as if she’d taken one of her Ra’dashe friends and forced them into a gathering she knew would make them uncomfortable.
After a lengthy wait, she was sure Peter and Mary Jane had everything squared away. Then she knocked on the door.
“Three seconds!” Peter called, and she heard a bit of a mad scramble. “Three, two, one…” He opened the door. Mary Jane, dressed, was bent over the sink, just turning the faucet off to pat her face down with a dry towel. Peter had, naturally, zipped himself up. He offered Kory a shaky smile. “Kory, geez, sorry, I was just about to send you a raincheck. MJ really needed a shower to relax, she promised it’d only be five minutes, but—well, maybe that would be five minutes on your planet, but here…”
“I watched you,” Kory said. She bit her lip, forced herself to stop, and bore Peter and Mary Jane’s surprised stares. “I heard… something and then I looked through the keyhole and I didn’t think that it was private—“
“Didn’t think that it was private?” Mary Jane cried. “With the door closed and locked?”
“On my planet, it wouldn’t have been. I… forgot myself. You’re very beautiful—not just physically, your love for each—I shouldn’t have done it. It’s my responsibility, as a visitor to your world, to abide by your customs, and I failed to. I have disgraced myself and my world. Please, accept my humblest apologies and tell me if there is anything I can do to make restitution. My skills and body are yours.”
“I… I mean, I…” Peter looked haphazardly to Mary Jane, brushing his fingers through his hair in consternation. “It sounds like an honest mistake, I guess, and we’re not… I mean… how much did you see exactly?”
“The ball-licking onward,” Kory said, wincing at how the two of them winced. “But I heard the cunnilingus.”
“I told you someone would hear you,” Peter said to Mary Jane.
“And you told him to gag you—“ Kory recalled. “Sorry.”
“It’s not like we should be ashamed,” Mary Jane said. “He’s my husband. What did you think I did with his balls?”
“I heard you kept them in your purse,” Kory reported dutifully, and Peter burst out laughing.
“Not funny!” Mary Jane said.
“Sorry—let me guess, you heard that from Darla Deering? One of her little jokes…”
“She doesn’t like Peter.” Mary Jane shrugged. “Just rubs her the wrong way.”
“Really?” Kory asked. “You looked very good at rubbing…”
Peter laughed again.
“It’s not funny!” Mary Jane insisted. “Peter, Kory feels awful, just look at her!”
“She feels awful? She’s seen, you know—little Peter.”
“Not big Peter?” Kory asked, and Mary Jane laughed obnoxiously.
Peter calmed down, trading a look with Mary Jane that said he was taking it seriously. “Kory, it’s fine. It doesn’t sound like you meant any harm or were… intentionally trying to violate our privacy.”
“I wasn’t!” Kory nodded.
“So let’s just chalk it up to an awkward… cultural miscommunication, and tonight, drinks are on you. How ‘bout it?”
Kory sighed in relief. “You may put as many drinks on me as you wish.”
“I don’t think that’s enough,” Mary Jane said, and Kory whirled to her with concern. Mary Jane had her arms crossed, her shoulders set decisively.
“I don’t know, hon,” Peter said, “We can cancel the shoot, call the lawyers, I just don’t know if this is worth… making a spectacle of ourselves by letting it get out.”
“You’re not the one she saw with cum all over her face. She didn’t hear you begging for it.”
Kory curled her toes within her shoes. She shouldn’t be thinking about that; she shouldn’t have been electrified by the thought of begging Peter for Mary Jane, so MJ didn’t have to talk with her mouth full. X’Hal, they’d been so perfect together—how could it be wrong to want to join in, share, celebrate that perfection?
“You saw us, we see you,” Mary Jane argued. She picked up Peter’s camera. “You said you were offering restitution. How about a kiss? With photos. So we can remember what we saw just as well as you can.”
“I… yes,” Kory agreed, facing Peter. “Kiss me. Show Mary Jane how special she is by letting her see how you are with someone who means nothing to you.”
“MJ, I’m not sure—“
“She wants to,” Mary Jane argued. “She wants to make restitution so she doesn’t have to feel guilty about it. It’s not like I’m asking for her to rob a bank or anything. I just want her to feel as embarrassed as we were.”
“It’s only fair,” Kory agreed, unbuttoning her shirt. “And even if it doesn’t hold the same meaning for me as it does for you, you should be able to see as much as I saw. Touch me, if you wish. Say things to me, as vile and as demeaning as you—“
“Okay!” Mary Jane cut in. “It’s just a kiss. He’s not trying to get you pregnant or anything.”
“If you wished that as reparation,” Kory said, opening her bra as well, “it would be the least I could do.”
“And yet, somehow we can do less. Right?” Peter asked MJ.
“I have always wanted kids,” Mary Jane said. “And they’d have red hair, too…”
“One kiss,” Mary Jane said quickly. She held up his camera. “Smile for the birdie or whatever…”
Peter kissed Kory quickly, putting a little effort into it—how could he not?—but feeling infinitely self-conscious about this strange set of lips, this ripe body pressing against him where Mary Jane’s more lithe physique would be absent, the body heat that ran so much warmer than MJ’s, the little purr she made, not at all like Mary Jane’s breathy sighs… He knew any man with at least one teste would want to kiss Starfire, but he really was a fool for love. All he could think was that she wasn’t his wife.
He pulled away after a few moments, nearly colliding with Mary Jane, who had been circling them, snapping her pictures from every angle. “Good?” MJ asked.
“Interesting,” Peter said, not wanting to offend either woman. “Now can we just… forget this ever happened?”
“Not yet.” Mary Jane shoved the camera into his arms. “You’ve had your kiss. Now it’s my turn.”
She moved in almost before Peter had realized this was a two-for-one deal, a delighted Kory suddenly receiving Mary Jane’s lips against her own. Then, in a moment, it was over, MJ withdrawing just a step ahead of Kory’s receptive tongue. She looked at Peter as Kory moaned helplessly.
“Take the picture, Pete.”
And again Kory felt the moist inferno of Mary Jane’s mouth, her tongue shameless and suggestive in Kory’s mouth, a slow, blissful bath of all the nerves in Kory’s lips—the warmth of Mary Jane’s body against hers as the two drew close in mutually unspoken consent. The moment of thrilling adrenaline as Kory circled Mary Jane’s waist with her hands: the heavenly possibility of MJ’s allowance, the hateful risk of Mary Jane demurring. Mary Jane accepted it, only increasing the vehemence of her kiss, and with happy relief, Kory enclosed the tiny waist almost completely with her hands, sliding them down, around Mary Jane’s body.
The hips built to sway, the pillowy crest of her buttocks down to the rounded perfection of gloss-skinned thighs—X’Hal, how Kory wanted to pick Mary Jane’s lithe body up, to deepen the kiss and expand it to include her breasts, her lovely face, that fragrant cunt that Peter had already tasted—oh, to lie in bed with the two, speaking with him of its flavor, of all Mary Jane’s delights.
But this was punishment, after all, and when Mary Jane pulled away, Kory countered her gluttonous desire by reminding herself that it was only right that she was allowed only a taunting taste. Perhaps, if she had been more observant of this unfamiliar culture, than this would’ve been hers to enjoy, but because of her own ignorance, it would be denied to her. This was only fair.
Mary Jane stepped back, eyes flitting down to the sudden heave of Kory’s breasts as she remembered, belatedly, to breathe. Then she looked to Peter. “Well! If it isn’t the jackpot…”
Kory looked as well, then brought her hand to her mouth. Despite the short interval since its very thorough use, Peter’s arousal was returning. It seemed even bigger than before.
“Sorry, Kory,” Mary Jane continued, taking Peter’s hand and pulling him close. “An old friend just showed up for dinner. Looks like we’ll have to cancel on you—he wants seconds.”
“Of course,” Kory said, moving to give them their privacy.
She felt like using the JLA’s teleporter, so she was not even on the same continent as that which she had already intruded upon once.
“Aren’t you going to ask?” Mary Jane called after her as she reached for the door to her room.
“Ask what?” Kory replied automatically.
“Whether you can watch, tigress.”
Kory took her hand away from the doorknob.
Mary Jane looked at Peter, probing eyes asking if it was okay with him, smile knowing the answer.
“Bring the camera,” Peter said.