Spiderman part 3 Ultimate heros part1
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Spiderman: Another Day In The Big Apple free porn video
Admittedly, things were never normal when you were a super-hero. The moment you donned the mask and slipped on the tights, any hope of a regular life went right out the window. Peter Parker, better known to the world as The Amazing Spiderman, knew this quite well. In five years since he had first created his alter ego, it had interfered with his family, his schooling, the various jobs he had held, and—perhaps most frustratingly—his love life. How did you explain to your girlfriend that you were late for your date because Hobgoblin was terrorizing Queens? What did you do when the quick, spontaneous sex you want to have couldn't happen because under your clothing you were wearing red and blue tights and had web shooters strapped to your arms?
You didn't, that was what. You made up excuses and you thought on your feet and you gave up the hope of trying organize your life more than a few days in advance. It was hell on relationships, but it kept your identity safe and your girlfriends out of harm's way. It wasn't great, but it was OK, and when you were a super-hero juggling two jobs, higher education, and a love life, OK was pretty good.
All that being said, kissing a woman—and not just any woman, but Solitaire of the Champions—while sitting on a gargoyle twenty stories above Manhattan at six in the morning was just weird. The two of them had just successfully brought to a conclusion three frantic weeks of investigating, tracking, fighting and general derring-do against a race of inhuman creatures from another dimension(!!) known as the Splugorth. Solitaire had told him that they were a race of world hopping manhunters from the land of Atlantis, which was news to Spidey considering he hadn't known that there was an Atlantis outside of myths and legends (oh, and the Disney Cartoon).
It had all started, he supposed, when he had been attacked by a Splugorth. He had been making his way through New York on a swing and a prayer, relieving stress and generally exulting in being alive when this ugly green... thing ... on some sort of floating railroad car just appeared and attacked him out of the blue. Spidey wasn't a fool and he did the only sensible thing: he ran. In fact 'running in abject terror when green, multi-tentacled ten foot things assault you with glowing rods' was one of Spidey's Personal Rules to Live By, right up there with helping old ladies across the street and not cussing in church.
He had run and it had pursued and then out of the blue—again—someone else appeared, this time fighting against the Splugorth. He had learned later that it was Solitaire but at that moment all he had seen was a flaring black cape and blazing bolts of spellfire. The big green ugly had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and with it went Spidey's mysterious saviour. He had waited, wondering if either of them would return, but when they did not he had chalked it up to just another weird day in the Big Apple and continued on his way.
The next day while swinging his way to school he saw a series of glowing lights circling a nearby roof top. His scientific and superheroic curiosity peaked, he made his way closer and instead of what he had been expecting (what had be been expecting, anyway?) he had found Solitaire. She needed his help, she explained. The creature he had faced the other day was still somewhere in the city, and it had to be stopped. Would he help her?
It hadn't taken much to convince him and also hadn't hurt that behind her mysterious façade and swirling cloak the mysterious super-hero had long blonde hair, a great figure, and mysterious blue/grey eyes.
Peter had known that nothing could happen between them. She was a cool and distant professional super hero with an emotional shell nothing seemed to penetrate and he was, well... him. Still, they had spent a fair amount of time together and it was nice just to watch her. She truly was beautiful with a slender, athletic figure, long legs, a tight, round ass and full, firm breasts. It also didn't hurt that her costume was skin tight and had strategically placed holes along her hips, abdomen and cleavage. She had been voted the most beautiful woman on the internet the previous year, and her 'cape only' picture had been the single most downloaded digital image of 2002. He had one hidden away on his hard drive himself.
For a week they had worked together innocently and Peter was very glad that his mask completely covered his face and eyes. It made secretly ogling her much easier, and he had been sure that was all that would happen.
Then he had caught her looking at his butt. He had tried to dismiss it as nothing, a piece of lint on his costume, but it had definitely been an ogle. Solitaire, the cool, collected, professional super-hero had been scoping him out. When she had seen she had been caught she immediately turned a deep crimson. Acting on the spur of the moment, not sure exactly why he was doing it, Peter had dipped his head and made a long, leisurely inspection of her cleavage. When he returned his eyes to hers her face had been deep, deep red and she had been unable to meet his eyes.
Neither of them brought up the incident and the two of them had continued tracking the Splugorth if nothing had happened, with one small exception: they flirted. It was very subtle: glances, smiles, jokes, but it was definitely flirting and he was pretty sure both of them knew it. Still, she made no move to do anything more and so neither did he. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being with girls—far from it—but it was definitely the first time he had thought about coming on to a fellow super-hero. Were there rules regarding things like that?
Finally, they tracked down the Splugorth, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it tracked down them. It had brought minions this time: a trio of warrior women with electro-zappers and net guns that fought with terrifying co-ordination and agility and the final battle had been harrowing (as final battles tended to be). It was in New York hunting them, they realized, to take back with it to wherever strange place it had come from. He and Solitaire had been victorious—barely—casting the ugly green whatever-it-was and its ninja babes out of this dimension and sealing the gateway shut. ('For now, ' Solitaire had told him ominously). It was then that Peter had realized that with her mission in New York now complete, she was going to return to San Francisco and that whatever thing there was between them would remain unrealized.
The sun had just been dawning when he had stammered out an invitation for some coffee and to his surprise she had agreed. His favourite spot to watch the sunrise, he had told her, was sitting on the jutting stone gargoyles of the Woolworth building. She had joined him and soon they were watching the sunrise sipping venti Americanos sixty meters off the ground.
They had chatted, post combat small talk, when he had noticed that her hand was shaking. Peter had taken it and looked into her eyes. The woman who an hour before had faced off against an inhuman, multi-tentacled whatever was pale and shaky, and Peter recognized the after effects of an adrenaline rush. Without words he had scooted next to her and slipped his arm around her waist and she had slid into his embrace. For minutes they had just sat there, watching the sun rise higher in the sky and sharing the comfort of their bodies while her shaking subsided. When she had recovered, she had sat up and gently caressed his bare chin—his mask was pushed up above his mouth so that he could drink—and looked through his mask deep into his eyes. The look she gave him was smouldering, and without further words their lips had met.
Peter was too much of a gentleman to rate his kisses, but this one was up there. It was passion combined with adrenaline enhanced by the electricity of two weeks worth of flirting. It was gentle and tender for maybe half a minute and then a deeper passion pass between them. She felt it too and their kiss became deeper; hotter. Her hands slid along his chest and grasped his shoulders. He slid his arms beneath her cloak, feeling the heat of her back beneath the smooth fabric of her costume. She moaned in the back of her throat and right there they had both known where this was going to end up.
Solitaire began to lean back but when she put her arm behind her to lean on she found only air. She gave a muffled squeak and pulled away, steadying herself. He blinked as he remembered that they were on the side of a stone outcropping that was barely large enough to sit on and definitely too small for what they wanted to do.
God, she looked beautiful with her face was flushed and her hair an unkempt cloud around her head. Her pale eyes blazed with passion. He wanted to kiss her again, but ... where? How? She bit her lip nervously and smiled, her ruby red lips lighting up her face. "Maybe we should continue this somewhere else?" Her voice was low and sultry.
Peter blatantly eyed her flushed face and chest while he caught his breath and nodded. "Sounds good to me," he managed to get out after clearing his throat a few times. "But where?"
Her smile turned mischievous. "Do you have anywhere you have to be right now?" She took his gloved hand and held it in both of hers, tracing its lines with her eyes.
He shook his head. "Nope, nada, nothing. I am completely free." Technically he had a class in two hours, but it was boring and he could afford to miss it. Finals, or LSATs would be worth missing out on for this. "Where to?"
"Leave that to me." Still holding his hand in one of hers she began chanting in a low voice and gesturing with the other. Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and realized that she was casting a spell. Solitaire ended her incantation with a loud syllable and suddenly they were both surrounded by whirling ribbons of blue light. Holy Crap! We're being teleported.
One moment of vertigo later, Peter found himself sitting on mid-air, the stone outcropping he had been resting his body around no longer there to support his weight. A normal person would likely have fallen at such a rapid change of environment but he was Spiderman and his reflexes were as fast as his namesake. He regained his balance with absurd ease and pulled both of them to their feet, noting that they now stood in the centre of a very posh hotel room. Standing now, his eyes locked once more with hers and they slid into each others arms.
Their hungry kissing was interrupted when Peter's mask, barely held in place on his nose, slipped down onto his face. It blocked his mouth and forced their lips apart. Solitaire drew away with an impatient hiss. For a moment neither of them moved, then she slowly brought her hands up to his face and began to peel away the obstructing fabric. Her eyes met his, asking for permission.
He thought, really thought for a second, and not just with his groin. No one living—not his aunt, not his worst enemy, not even his last girlfriend—had ever seen him without his mask. Did he want to do this? Until this bizarre, completely unforeseen moment, there had never been even a chance of his identity being discovered. Did he want Solitaire to be the first one? Was sex with her worth it?
He wanted to trust her. He wanted someone to see him without his mask, to know what he truly looked like. He nodded to her and she gently pulled the patterned fabric off of his face and over his head. He stood and held his breath, his head bare and exposed. Smiling, Solitaire leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, his eye and then his ear. "You're very handsome," she whispered as she traced his lobe with her tongue. "Its too nice a face to hide away." She traced the line of his jaw, rough with stubble, with her lips. With a growl, Peter pulled her mouth back to his and kissed her passionately.
As they kissed, they slowly shuffled closer to the hotel suite's couch and sank down onto it. As their mouths devoured each other, their hands slid along and caressed their bodies, exploring backs, stomachs, arms and chests. She moaned when he cupped her breasts but gave an exasperated sigh when his effort to touch them beneath the midnight blue of her costume failed.
Dizzy with lust, Peter ran his hands along the fabric, frantically looking for a button, a zipper, a seam; something. There had to be a way for him to get it off without using brute force. She had gotten into it somehow, hadn't she?
Her smile a bit strained, Solitaire pushed away his questing hands and held them in hers as she rose to her feet. Her new position placed her firm, heaving breasts straight at his eye level and Peter could only stare at them, transfixed. "Do you have anywhere to be this morning?"
Another class, a genetics lab; nothing important enough to make him leave this room without seeing her naked. He shook his head.
"Then there is no point in rushing this." She pulled him to his feet and gave him a quick, deep kiss. "I think we should both slip into something more comfortable." She released his hands and walked towards the open door of a bedroom. "I'll only be a minute or two. Why don't you order something for us to eat?" She shut the door behind her and Peter frowned. He wanted to see how she got out of her costume.
Still, she did have a point. He was still wearing his costume along with his web shooters and he didn't want to try slipping out them while they were necking. The problem was that he had nothing else to wear. It wasn't like he had brought a change of clothes with him to ... wherever they were. Peter frowned as he realized that there was a second problem: were they even in New York anymore? For all he knew, she could have teleported them to Los Angeles, Tokyo, or even Jakarta.
He rushed over to the window and opened the curtain, letting out a sigh of relief when the familiar New York skyline looked back at him, albeit from a different perspective than he had least seen it. The Empire State Building was there, and behind that the World Trade Centres [author's note: this was written in 1999 or so]. He knew the city's layout as well as he did his own bedroom, and that meant that they were in ... Peter gave a low whistle has he realized that they were in the Four Seasons, the poshest—and most expensive—hotel in the city. Being a Champion seems to have its perks. He would be lucky to stay in the Relax Inn if he was by himself.
He rewound his memory, trying to remember what Solitaire had last said to him before disappearing. Changing! She had told him to change into something more comfortable ... but what was there? He pondered for a moment and then saw a high quality monogrammed bathrobe laying on the bed in the suite's second bedroom. (Second bedroom! Sheesh. This suite was bigger than his apartment!) He quickly shucked his costume and all of the accessories that came with it, pushing them beneath the bed so that they wouldn't be seen by any passing maids, and then slipped into the soft terry cloth robe. Its clean freshness reminded him that he was still grimy from last night's battle royale. Maybe he had time for a quick shower?
"Did you order anything?" her voice called through the door.
Food! That was the other thing she had asked him to do. "Umm, no. I'll do that right now. Is there anything you want?" He wasn't sure at first if he was really in the mood for eating, but his growling stomach quickly told him otherwise.
"Something with fruit." The door to her bedroom opened and she stepped out wearing a robe just like his. Wow! It looked much better on her than he was sure it did on him. He could tell from the sway of her chest beneath the fabric that she wore nothing beneath it. Without her costume, she looked ... different. Still beautiful—oh, God yes! —but not as imposing. Softer. Younger. Standing in the doorway, giving him an eyeful, she blatantly ran her gaze over him. "And champagne. Definitely champagne." She glided to the bathroom, each stride showing tantalizing strips of long, toned leg. "I'm going to take a shower."
Peter blocked the door before she could shut it and brought his face close to hers, almost touching. "We could take one together," he growled suggestively. They kissed fiercely and hungrily, but then she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away. "Food first. I'm hungry." The door closed firmly, but not before he saw a brief flash of her robe opening and her tantalizing glimpse of the form that lay beneath.
He just stared at the door, his mind blank, until the sound of running water brought him out of his reverie. "Food," he muttered. "Right." He found the telephone and called room service. Thinking of the last time he had eaten room service from a four star hotel—never—he racked his brain for the most extravagant breakfast he could order. After listening to his stomach yell at him he amended his choice to something hearty as well. Steak and eggs for him, and a Belgian waffle with whipped cream and fresh fruit for her. At the concierge's suggestion he also ordered champagne with orange juice. He had finished ordering and was checking the morning news for anything of their exploits (nothing, for once) when she emerged from the washroom in her robe, hair slicked back behind her, looking clean and beautiful.
"Your turn," she said with a twinkle in her eye and a sultry swing of her hips. Seeing her like that, washing was the last thing on his mind and he reached out to pull her to him. She smelled of soap, apples and woman. He buried his nose in her neck, inhaled, and nuzzled her while his hands rested comfortably on her hips. She moaned and pressed her body against his, leaning her head back. Peter traced his lips along her neck and jaw before bringing them up to meet hers. She gave a sound that was part moan, part sigh, part whimper and totally sexy. He forgot about breakfast.
He pressed his hips against hers and she moaned. He found the belt of her robe and released it then slid his hands inside to touch her bare skin. It was like hot velvet. He caressed her flat stomach, producing another throaty moan, then slid slowly up her chest to feel her full, round breasts. Her nipples were hard and hot against his palms and she eagerly pressed her chest into him. Her kisses became deeper and her moans more wanton. Peter was as hard as he could ever remember being. She was so incredibly sexy.
Her robe fell forgotten to the floor and his was close behind it as their naked bodies pressed together. He groaned as his hard penis pressed against her stomach. He used his hands to feel her all over; the smooth skin and angular planes of her back, the firm globes of her ass and soft downy cloud of her pubic hair. Her sex was hot, wet and tight and she gasped when he touched her damp core.
"Oh, Gods, ohh." She gripped his arms and pressed her mouth into his shoulder. Peter continued to stroke her sticky centre, her passion feeding his. "Oh, god, I—" she brought her face to his and stared at him with her blue eyes. "No," she moaned weakly. She put her hands against his chest and tried to pushed him away. "Room service." Her face was flushed with passion and her damp hair dishevelled. She was still too sexy, and he was unable to pull away.
Solitaire averted her face and tried again without effort to push him away. "I want to," she gasped into his ear, her voice low and twisted by passion, "but someone's coming." She rubbed his cheek with her fingers. "And you should shave." She gave him a crooked smile.
With a sigh, Peter stepped away from her and retrieved his robe. "All right, you win," he groused. He was still incredibly turned on. She was still standing there naked and the sight of her nude body almost did him in. He'd seen her in her costume, which was as skin tight as a costume could be, but it really did her naked form no justice. She has as close as he could tell to the perfect figure, and it needed no enhancement. Her stomach was flat, her breasts high and firm and her legs perfectly proportioned. Her whole body was flushed with desire and her breasts were heaving.
With a final, tantalizing glance at her, Peter forced himself into the bathroom and shut the door. His erection was still threatening to burst and he tried to control himself. Looking around the bathroom, he tried to focus on something less alluring but it didn't work. It was hot and steamy in the room, and the smell of soap and woman continued to remind him of the wonderful naked form just outside the door. Gritting his teeth, he turned on the shower and got in. His condition wasn't going to change anytime soon.
He really did need a shower, he grudgingly admitted as he cleaned himself. Webslinging and fighting Evil was dirty, sweaty work and he had been doing both basically non-stop from sunset last night until dawn. He set the shower-head to massage and ground the knots of his muscles—knots he hadn't even known were there—away in the steaming, pulsating water.
After using a good percentage of the hotel's hot water supply (it wasn't often he was allowed unlimited amounts of it) he stepped out and used the complimentary razor to shave and make himself presentable. While the shower had been relaxing, it had done nothing to ebb his desire. All it took was a fleeting memory of Solitaire's lips on his or the feel of her taut nipple beneath his fingers to make his breath ragged and renew his painfully hard erection.
Peter stepped back into the main room just as Solitaire (back in her body covering robe, unfortunately) was thanking the waiter and giving him a tip. The young man glanced how they both were dressed and gave Peter an approving, envious smile before leaving the room. Solitaire was blushing. Even covered by her robe, her shoulders, waist and hips beckoned him with their sultry allure. He came up behind her, intent on wantonness, but the savoury smell of grilled steak beneath the plate covers caught his attention. Keeping his desire in check—for now—he sat down opposite her at the table and fell into his meal.
He didn't think he would be able to relax during breakfast, not with her distracting neckline in his immediate field of vision, but somehow the food and the buzz of the champagne mellowed him. There was no anxiety to the scene, no question of 'will we?'. They were going to have sex. The necking and the petting and his actual presence here in her hotel room virtually guaranteed it. The eagerness and attraction in her eyes were plain to see, even for an oblivious guy like himself. It took the pressure away and let him enjoy one of the best meals he'd had in quite a while.
Across from him, Solitaire cleared her throat. Peter looked up from his food and glanced up at her. her mouth was open, like she was about so say something, but no sound came out. "I thought maybe that..." She paused, seemed to reconsider her next words then paused again as she ate a small bite of waffle. What is making her so nervous? " ... maybe for today..." she continued, her eyes glued to her plate " ... that maybe we could tell each other our first names." She said the last part very quickly, then looked up at him briefly and gave him a quick smile. "I'd like to be able to call you something besides 'Spiderman'."
Oh.
If he had been asking her that same question, he would probably have been pretty nervous as well. Secret identities were the hallowed core of superhero-dom and given out only to a precious few people. It was only by keeping his identity completely unknown could he hope to accomplish his work. If anyone knew who Peter was, or was known to be friends with him, then that person could be in great danger. If Doc Oc was angry because Spiderman had foiled his latest insane scheme then what was a better revenge, killing Spidey or torturing to death one of his friends? By that same token, if there was an item hidden that only Spidey could find and that the Scorpion wanted, it was an easy stretch—even to as dim a bulb as Mac Gargan—that the best way to pressure Spidey into doing it was to threaten his friends.
No, Peter could never reveal his name ... under normal circumstances. This, however, was by every definition far from normal. She'd already seen his face, something he had never allowed anybody and considering that they were about to become as intimate as two people could was there any real harm in it? Besides, not that he knew how responsive she was in the sack or anything, but did he really want to hear a naked woman in the throws of orgasm crying out 'oh, Spiderman, yes Spiderman'? It was a disturbing mental image. Her identity was as secret as his was. She fully understood what she was asking him to do and in fact had more to lose: the Champions were perhaps the most powerful group of heroes on the planet. To risk herself was to risk all of them, and they had far more powerful enemies than he did.
It was that thought that made up Peter's mind. "I'm Peter" he said before he could change his decision.
She smiled. It was a really nice smile, something that he hadn't seen before. When she was Solitaire she had been so serious all of the time. "Peter." She said it slowly, savouring each syllable, then she looked at him, really looked at him with that mysterious smile on her face. It almost made him shove the plates onto the floor and take her on the table. "It suits you." Her eyes ducked shyly to the table. "I'm Shannon."
Shannon.
She looked like a Shannon. Beautiful, elegant but not too sophisticated. Impulsively he reached across the table and took her hand. She gave him a partly bemused, partly bewildered look. He smiled mischievously and kissed her fingers. "It's nice to meet you, Shannon."
She tilted her head a bit as she looked at him, her slight smile broadening. "It's nice to meet you too, Peter."
The rest of the meal was spent in silence, broken only by smiles and looks. Soon enough only silence remained at the table. They both sat there, looking deeply at each other, each silently asking the question 'what happens next'? She cautiously cleared her throat. "I should ... umm..." She paused, took a sip of orange juice and wet her lips. It was an unconsciously sensual gesture and Peter could not help but follow the motion of her pink tongue and glistening, ruby lips.
"I've cast a spell," she said quietly, and Peter looked up, startled, not really catching her words. "I cast a spell, while you were in the shower," she repeated. Her eyes were looking at various things: her plate, the wall; anything but his face. "Until the setting of the sun, nothing can come from our union."
"Is there a union?" he asked with mock dismay. "Do we have to pay dues, 'cause I'm kinda strapped right now."
She tried to keep her face solemn, but he saw the tips of her mouth curl. "There can be no children or ... diseases from anything we do, not before sunset."
He slapped his hand to his head. "Oh! That kind of union," causing her to smile once more. The thought had honestly not crossed his mind. How did magical contraception compare to using rubbers or spermicide? How did the Surgeon General rate it?
There didn't seem to be anything left to say. Shannon (it seemed so easy to call her that now, instead of Solitaire) emptied the last of the champagne and orange juice into both their glasses and after holding her eyes to his stood and glided over to the couch. Taking his glass and clearing his throat, he walked around the table and joined her. His erection was as hard as it had been since he had first entered this room and he knew it was blatantly obvious beneath his robe. Her eyes were fixed on it as he came over and sat beside her. As she watched him, her hand played unconsciously with the neck of her robe, an act which opened it wider and made the upper slopes of her breasts plainly visible. Peter followed the fold down with his eyes but her legs were folded demurely, revealing nothing but slender calf.
He brought his eyes up to hers and she smiled, knowing full well what he had been looking at. As her eyes twinkled at him, she brought her glass to her lips and slowly drank. The way she did it was very sensual, and Peter was transfixed as he watched as the liquid slide down her tender throat. Swallowing himself, he took a gulp from his glass, almost choking on the alcohol.
Their silent dance continued: look, drink and smile. Peter traced her every outline, the smooth curve of her throat, the slightly freckled skin of her upper chest, the satiny line of her jaw. Everything about her was perfect, and when she looked at him her eyes were glowing.
Alma
- 16.06.2021
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