The Kiss of the Spider Woman Ch. 02

As the pale light of dawn pushed back the shadows in the grimy alley, the patrolling officers found a man unconscious. He was spread-eagled against the wall, his head drooping, fastened all around by sticky strands of web. His limp penis and balls lolled out of his open trouser flies for all to see. His slack, emaciated face hinted at the agonies he had endured. Swiftly, battling the tenacious webbing, the fire department cut him free. The ambulance rushed him to General Hospital for resuscitation.

Over the following days and weeks, in the dark places all over town, men were found trapped in spider-like webs. All were dehydrated, apparently by loss of sexual fluids. Their occupations were various: CEO, drug lord, senior bureaucrat, Olympic swimmer, SWAT team captain, cordon bleu chef and more. Although they all eventually recovered, none would speak of their trials. Why not? Was it shame, terror?

Reporters on the police beat picked up the thread, the headlines followed and then, blame. Who could have done this? Terrorists? Spiderman? At first, hoping to trap the perpetrator, the police withheld the key fact: the men were found with their flies open and their genitals pendant, but the rumors were spreading. Opinion pieces ranted that the coming crisis of moral decay must be averted. Christian outrage was growing. In newsrooms, editors shouted, "Get out there and get that story!" Young, naïve reporters put on their best investigative faces and, nervously, ventured forth into the dark.

Peter Parker, of the Daily Bugle, was one such young reporter, apparently ordinary, but with unique advantages: his secret spider powers and his clever brain. His wrist-mounted web projectors squirted sticky, silvery, wet web compound for tens, or even hundreds, of feet. He could penetrate places that the other reporters couldn't, or wouldn't. Leaving the Bugle building at dusk, he stripped off his disguising street clothes, slipped on his mask and disappeared into the darkness.

In a nameless alley, passing under a dimly glowing lamp, his enhanced spider senses tingled. He heard the tiny noise that didn't belong. Faster than the ordinary eye can see, he spun around into combat stance, his body low, arms and legs spread, but too late! Already, fine strands of clinging, glistening fluid enveloped him, slowing his movements, trapping his arms and legs. He faintly sensed a movement in front of him, a shadow. He tried to bring his web projectors to bear, but his arms were already fastened to the wall behind him by a web, incredibly strong. He grimaced behind his mask, applied all of his spider-strength, but his limbs were held fast!

He heard a rich, throaty chuckle. The shadow moved into the dim light, resolving itself from a vague blur into the silhouette of a woman. His body reacted to her curvaceous shape, strong and sleek. His heart pounded and he flushed. More details emerged as she approached: her black form-fitting suit, difficult to focus on, hood thrown back; her blonde hair caught at the nape of her long neck; a small mask over her eyes. Those eyes! Glowing blue coals behind the mask, like living jewels. A pert nose with freckles, full curved lips, firm chin. His gaze was drawn down. Her over-sized tits - high, round and proud - stretched the black fabric of her costume. Her trim waist and flat belly led his eyes down to the subtle mound between her rounded hips, then down her rippling thighs to the length of her beautiful calves and trim feet.

As she approached, her scent struck him like heat in his belly and balls. He was overwhelmed by lust. Against his will, his cock erected itself in his suit, straining toward her. He struggled against the webs that held him to the wall, but he could not free himself. She paused to study him, her gorgeous tits not a foot from his belly. Her graceful hand rose to his face and stroked his cheek. He could see that her wrist projectors, much like his own, were seeping fluids. Holding his gaze, she raised her wrist to her lips and licked the fluids away, then knelt before him.

Peter gasped as her fingers brushed the bulging length of his confined prick that stretched the close-fitting shorts of his costume. She smiled up at him as she expertly worked the seam, her pink tongue peeking out between her pearly teeth. He stared, dumbfounded. The glowing blue coals entranced him. Then, his cock popped free into the cool evening air, pointing at her nose. Her tongue slipped out further from between her lips. She leaned forward and gently licked the bulging head of his cock, the heat of her breath searing him. He gasped. A bubble of clear juice pulsed from his cock head, spreading across her tongue.

This was the first time that a woman had touched his cock! His lost girlfriend, Gwen, had allowed him to kiss her and to gently fondle the softness of her pert tits beneath her sweater, but had asked him to wait before going further. He had trusted her, opened himself to the possibilities that she brought to his heart and his life. Suddenly, she had been taken from him, slain by the cruelty of the insane criminal, the Green Goblin. Since that moment of helplessness and tragedy, he had hidden himself from women, losing himself in his scientific pursuits. But, the woman kneeling before him was beyond his wildest dreams. Beyond her beauty, she exuded an energy that drew him inexorably...

...into her mouth. The shock, the wet heat of her mouth, as it engulfed his swollen prick, overwhelmed him. The pressure built in his belly as the slippery ring of her lips slid smoothly down his cock. He felt writhing electricity against the bottom of his meat. Some part of his brain that still functioned rationally deduced that her tongue must be massaging the bottom of his cock as her lips drew closer to his body. Sudden slippery pressure around his cock head, then the lips pressed against his pubis and the writhing tongue swabbed the front of his balls. He heard her moan. Looking down, he met her eyes - wide blue vortices drawing him in. His emotions and his cum rose at once. She drew her head back, lips stretching as she sucked, drawing the intense sensations up to the tip of his cockhead. His swollen cock emerged from her mouth, bouncing and drooling, bigger than he had ever seen it. His cum rushed up inside the shaft. The first jet struck her upper lip. Her eyes widened. Moaning softly, she pressed her pursed lips against the tip of his cock, then pushed her kiss back down to the root, his spewing cockhead lodging in her tight throat.

He screamed and arched, slamming his pubic bone against her teeth. His prick pumped, the white heat extending from the core of his belly into her mouth. Every muscle in his body clenched. His wrist projectors sprayed webbing that draped itself everywhere - brick walls, fire escapes and garbage cans. Again and again, his guts clenched, his guttural screams echoing as ropes of pearlescent webbing festooned the grimy alley. The spasms of perfect pleasure went on and on, then began to fade. The reverberations of his own voice drew him back to reality. He opened his eyes, looked down and met her glowing eyes that held his as she drained him. Slowly, not relinquishing his gaze, she pulled back, her lips exposing inch after inch of his bulging meat, still spastically pumping his essence. Soon, she had only his cock head in her mouth, his shaft deflating. Then, the head popped free, dropping to wetly slap his thigh. She paused, looking deeply into his soul. She raised a hand to lift his cock, bestowing a soft, sucking kiss on the drooling tip, claiming the last drops of his strength.

His consciousness was fading. Briefly, he felt a wind against his face. She was spun on her knees, her blonde hair swirling. A new presence filled the alley: red cape fluttering, solid stance, crossed arms, blue-black hair, an unmistakable handsome face, blue, red and gold costume, the stylized letter "S" emblazoned in red and gold on his massive chest. Then, Peter knew no more.