Chronicles of Spider-Man Ch. 04

Peter Parker and his high-fashion model wife left the party; Pete had been so busy being Spider-Man he was actually glad to put his web-slinging on hold to spend some time with MJ, away from their usual city-crazed routine. The young man smiled at his spouse; surely he was the luckiest man on earth.

Mary Jane was every man's dream girl, her beautiful face highlighting her perfect figure; long red hair dropped past her shoulders and to the small of her back. She was taller than average, with long, show-girl legs, a slim waist and the kind of full, firm, saucily-wiggling asscheeks that men craved to pinch whenever she dared to venture outdoors in shorts.

MJ's shoulders and bone structure were delicate, almost girlish, and yet her breasts were huge; great, firm and luscious tits that jiggled invitingly in even her most restrictive D-cup bras. Her green eyes and full lips accented her pearly white teeth; her warm smile was able to light up a room or a magazine cover, and she had been on enough of them.

The lovely redhead seemed distracted, though; her mind was flooded with raw images of Katzenburg's pudgy fingers circling around her belly, commenting on the inevitable bulge that would be visible by the time his large cock was shoved deep inside her tight stomach. She remembered unwillingly bending over, his fat hairy balls dangling flush with her tight ass, her hair stuck to the side of her face from sweat, and her lipstick was smeared across his greasy mouth.

That moment seemed to be etched upon the supermodel's memory; also, the uncontrollable orgasms that had engulfed her body instants before. The sight of her cum washing down Katzenburg's coarse and round face, after eating her to the point of exhaustion, was not something easily forgettable. Yet, he just stared at her with that constant, stupid grin.

"You are awfully quiet," Peter snapped MJ out of her torturing reveries. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, Tiger." She hugged her husband so she didn't have to look him in the eyes; the fact she had had an intimate encounter with Peter's low-life rival was consuming her; the guilty was eating her up inside. If it wasn't for his nick-of-time intervention, MJ's remorse would be a lot worse.

At least, Katzenburg didn't manage to actually fuck her; there was little harm done, except maybe for the tongue lashing, the groping and the kissing, but those were circumstantial events that didn't mean anything, and the redhead chose to consider them 'petty details'. Telling Peter about what had happened, including Felicia's affair with a masked man, would only devastate him.

"It's just that I have a lot on my mind, don't worry..." Mary Jane whispered, sliding her arm around his; she wished she could just erase those reminiscences; they were nothing but a huge mistake. "I'm so glad you found time to be with me instead of playing hero."

"Sorry about that, honey. I promise I'll do this more often." Peter kissed MJ on the cheek, lost in her beauty. "There are plenty of hero's in the city; I don't need to be away from you so much, especially when I should be supporting you."

"Oh, Pete... Come here..." They kissed, neither of them wanting the moment to end. "I love you so much..."

"We never talked about what was upsetting you, MJ." Peter knew about the blackmail, but didn't want to trouble his wife by bringing it up; she had to tell him on her own terms. "I'm here, if you'd like to talk about what is bothering you..."

A sudden image of the 'negotiation' with Katzenburg filled Mary Jane's mind; all she wanted was to put an end to the extortion, but she ended on her knees, whipping her fist, furiously up and down his giant, stiff prick, slurping loudly and shamelessly on his cock-knob. The flush in her cheeks turned nearly crimson as she realized she shouldn't have let that occur.

"I 'sucked it in', Tiger." The supermodel gulped at the inevitable pun. "Besides, I just want to be close to you now... Maybe we can talk about it some other time..."

Suddenly, Peter's Spider-sense went haywire, almost knocking him down with its force.

"Pete, what's the matter? Do you..." Mary Jane's speech was interrupted when she heard the sound of gunshots in the distance; she couldn't do anything but watch, as her husband quickly jumped on top of a two-story building to get changed into Spider-man, leaving her by herself.

MJ ignored the crowd's gasps and awes as they looked skyward, a couple of moments later; she didn't follow the gaze of the masses, for she knew her husband's alter-ego was the object of their fascination, winging after the commotion, to her utter concernment.

***

Peter knew he was in trouble; not because he was fighting alongside Matt Murdock, aka the Dare Devil, nor because of the bleeding enemy lying unconscious at his feet. He had just finished telling Mary Jane how he would spend more time with her before disappearing; her look of disappointment was evident, and he did not need Spider-sense to detect it. He had to wrap this mess up quick.

The gunfire from the adorning roof ceased for a fraction of a second, and that was all the time Spider-man needed. Several broad web shields filled the skies, momentarily blocking his advancement on the thugs. In a flash, Spidey took out one by one, disarming and sending them crashing into the aluminum air vents that adorn all flat roof buildings.

Dare Devil overpowered and restrained the last remaining criminal, forcing him on his knees; to Spider-man's surprise, the unorthodox superhero started punching the surrendered enemy in the face, over and over, demanding to know who ordered the hit.

"Are you crazy?" Spider-man shouted.

"This does not concern you, Spider-man." The vigilante warned him, while knocking the thug out cold. Although Dare Devil fought for the greater good, he had opposed Spider-Man on several occasions and was well aware of his strength and speed. "What the hell are you doing here, so far away from the city, anyway?"

"Damn! I knew I should have turned left after the brooking building!" Spider-Man cast one of his trademarked jokes, before webbing Dare Devil's wrists, securing him to the caved in air vent. "That is not your style, Matt. What is going on?"

"He is a villain of the first order," the Devil tried to avoid the webbing, unsuccessfully. "I don't have time for formal protocols; there is something big about to happen, I want information."

"So I heard," Spidey continued. "But, I can't turn my back while you beat him to death, Matt."

"Your sense of honor will be your downfall, Spider-man." Dare Devil said as Spider-Man headed toward the edge of the rooftop and carried the thug away from the building in his web to spinning lights of the ambulances underneath, at street level.

"There is something really fishy going on." Spider-Man mused aloud, as he so often does. The superhero dropped the criminal onto a gurney, and web-swung into the night, avoiding the police. He knew the Dare Devil had strong motivation, and, if he was there, so would be a lot of baddies...

***

Mary Jane decided to snoop around; she knew that Nick Katzenburg wouldn't be back from the Bugle's party anytime soon. The creep would probably try to pick a woman desperate enough to sleep with him. Since Peter was determined to play superhero, she took the opportunity to go to the obnoxious photographer's cabin and make sure he didn't have any further material that could be used against her; she wouldn't fall hostage of his extortion again.

The only potential issue was Craig; the boy would hardly sell out his uncle that easily, even though he was a jerk. 'If he gets in the way, I'll just improvise,' the auburn-haired supermodel thought. Luckily for her, she didn't have to worry about the kid, the hut was empty. He had to be taking a walk or something, but could return at any moment, so she needed to be fast.

MJ tried the handle, and, to her surprise, the door wasn't locked. 'Either they feel really secure around here or they are just plain sloppy,' she speculated while letting herself in. The redhead wasted no time and started going through their stuff; bags, drawers, any place Katzenburg could have hidden something. She even looked under the beds, and felt relieved she didn't find anything. Only place left was the closet; she quickly skimmed through its contents, and found nothing but shirts in dire need of mending. When the supermodel was about to give up, she noticed a cardboard box sitting on the shelf, half-hidden further in the back.

It had no markings on it, and had obviously been shoved as far back in the closet as it would possibly go. On her tiptoes, she reached up and carefully pulled it down. 'There couldn't be much in it', she thought to herself, as it weighed hardly anything; documents or pictures, maybe? Stepping over to the nearest unmade bed, she set the box down and slowly peeled it open...

"Oh, for goodness sakes!" She blurted out loud, staring down at the contents of the box: panties! The box was filled with panties.

As she ran her eyes over them, she saw that some were so sheer there was hardly anything to them; some were decorated with various floral patterns and stamps, some were trimmed in lace, one even had girly little hearts embroidered on it. There were black ones, purple ones, white ones, red ones, flesh-colored ones, and some that were so tiny, it was hard to determine what color they were.

'There must be over twenty of these,' she guessed, picking through them. Moreover, there were other obvious details; all the crotches had telltale stains of use. They had not been washed and still harbored the evidence of wearer's arousal. Some were even pasted in a mixture of dried vaginal fluid and semen.

'Katzenburg, you depraved pig!' MJ pouted. What was he doing with all the stolen panties, she frantically wondered? The only thing she could think of was that he had lifted them from the women while taking pictures for the Daily Bugle. He did accompany some of the reporters and would have access to the victim's back yards, where he could have easily swiped and stuffed them into his pocket if they were on a clothes line.

But that many women drying their panties on a clothesline? It was highly doubtful. 'What if...' Something else suddenly popped into the supermodel's mind. 'Craig... could it be?' She speculated. 'Nah...' Mary Jane shook her head no. 'I know little about him, but Craig is a sweet boy; he would never do something that degenerate...' She thought to herself as she mindlessly browsed through the provocative undergarments, until one particular sexy, little pair of sheer, pink panties caught her attention.

It was one of her own! She clearly remembered using them a couple of days earlier, the very same day she was saved from the thugs in the park by her husband dressed in his Spider-man costume and, taken by the adrenaline rush, they made love out in the open. Those panties were one of her favorite pair; she had searched high and low, but never managed to find them after that night. How the hell did her underwear end up in the box?

"Did you find something worth of interest?" The redhead heard a muffled voice coming from behind; MJ had been so distracted with her findings that she forgot she was at someone else's cabin and didn't realize she wasn't alone anymore.

The supermodel turned around and saw a mask-wearing, dark-costumed figure standing there; yet another one. What was wrong with those identity-hiding types? As if the world wasn't already filled with enough demented freaks, concealing their true character in order to obtain some kind of personal gain. Despite being currently mad with her husband, Mary Jane knew Peter had always used his extraordinary abilities to help people, instead of sneaking upon unsuspecting women.

"Stay away!" She threatened him, pretending to look for something inside her purse. "I have a gun and I know damn well how to use it!"

"Please, I am sorry if I startled you," The figure tried to assure her. "I mean you no harm."

"What are you doing here?" The redhead asked the costumed man; after all that had happened lately, she wasn't about to be intimidated with his presence.

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss Parker," The mysterious guy calmly stated; she tried to identify the tone and pitch of his voice, but the mask distorted the sound beyond recognition. "This isn't your cabin, and those are not likely to be yours."

"Actually..." MJ was a bit embarrassed when he referred to the box full of panties; she wanted to be on top of the situation, but she wouldn't reveal what she had just found out about her underwear to a masked freak. "How do you know my name?"

"Who doesn't?" The unknown guy had a solid point. "Mary Jane Watson Parker, world-wide famous supermodel and actress. Your face is stamped on every Broadway billboard."

"Alright, you clearly know who I am." She acknowledged. "Question is: who are you?"

"Who?" The masked man hesitated. "Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask."

"I can see that."

"But of course you can," He seemed to be stating the obvious. "I'm not questioning your powers of observation. I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is."

"Oh," She had to agree that actually made sense. "Right."

"On this most auspicious of nights, though," The unknown figure continued. "Allow me, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona."

"Uh," Mary Jane wasn't really interested, but she agreed to humor him. "Okay."

"I'm but a simple vaudevillian apprentice, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate." The man gestured. "This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished."

"However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified..." The figure resumed his explanation. "...and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice, and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition."

"The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta..." He concluded. "...held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous."

"Excuse me?" The redhead was fairly certain she was dealing with a nutcase.

"Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose." The man laughed under his mask. "So let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me, uh... I'm afraid I don't have a stage name yet..."

"How about 'the incredible stalker'?" The supermodel attempted a joke. "At least, you have this witty, fancy speech going on... I am sure it must count for something..."

"I can guarantee you it has worked on several occasions." He tried to reason.

"Yeah, right! I am sure women love hearing about..." Mary Jane's train of thought was cut short by a sudden flashback of the scene she had witnessed earlier. The mask he was wearing had a striking similarity; could it be the same person? "Felicia...?"

"Oh, yes," The man seemed to know what she was talking about. "The lovely Felicia Hardy, for instance..."

She involuntarily looked down and gasped in astonishment at the sight of the large bulge in his pants; that was definitely the man that fucked Felicia earlier. MJ took a deep, quivering breath; the image of his huge cock was branded in her mind's eye, she could feel the moisture of her fuck-juices starting to build on her inner thighs.

"Are you her lover?" Mary Jane managed to break her eye contact from the enormous bulge.

"Lover? The concept is so familiar, and overwhelmingly warm," The man casually stated. "However, the mask covering my face and the body holding me are nothing but a reminder that, while we are eternal and not alone, love is just an illusion."

"Is it how the kids call 'one night stand' these days?" She ironically asked.

"Quiet!" The mysterious figure said, waving his hands in a downward motion. "Someone is coming!"

Mary Jane heard the sound as well and looked back, curiously. The masked man was quickly behind her, his arms wrapped around her tight body and carried her to the closet with him, so they could both hide. She could feel the sweat from his chest against her back. His breath was hot; it cascaded over her neck, through his mask.

"He's here... Don't move, don't even breathe." The dark figure said from behind her.

MJ had to trust him, though she didn't like it; once again, she was forced in a situation against her will. She could not tell if he was a thief or a murderer, yet she didn't want to be caught sneaking by Katzenburg. She had to follow her instincts; the same instincts that had put her in that mess, in the first place.

As the redhead thought in a way of escaping undetected, she felt something pressing against her tight buttocks. That something began to rise upward, swelling against the crack of her ass, pressing her flimsy dress inward until it began to feel like a thong. The man had grinded his pelvis forward and lifted her body slightly upward, and then down, allowing the bulge that formed in his pants to rub against the softness of her dress and force its way between her buttocks.

"Hey!" Mary Jane whispered, wondering why she hadn't slapped him; she knew why: any sudden movement would give them away.

The cock pressing against her ass, cuddling between the tightness of her buttocks, felt hot and large; she could almost feel the veins protruding outward through her dress, it was incredibly hard. She couldn't believe the heat of the organ against her backside. It felt like hot coal, throbbing hot coal with ridges and protruding veins. One of his hands was softly kneading Mary Jane's breasts, and the other with its flat palm pressed against Mary Jane's pelvis, forcing her backward, forcing her tight ass to snuggle with the hard cock.

"Mmpphhh!" Mary Jane whimpered, bringing her head downward and biting into the forearm wrapped around her chest.

"Quiet, he will hear us," He said ominously. Her eyes flittered opened from their clinched state to see Katzenburg through the small opening on the closet's door; he seemed to be looking for something.

The redhead's movement to keep her body still only made matters worse. The rock-hard cock rudely spread the perfectly rounded globes of her buttocks as it snuggled itself between her ass cheeks. Both her skirt and his costume's pants separated his cock from her bare skin, but she could still feel its intense heat and clinched her teeth in defiance.

While one hand cupped her firm tits, another rested on her belly. The masked man could notice her stomach jump and twitch. Her dress was already clinging to her thighs and loins thanks to the heat. His work upon her body was meticulous. Only he wasn't working with lumber, or landscape, he was working her body, working it like a fine instrument. Her neck and ears were sensitive to the touch; he seemed to know this from the outset. Mary Jane could not believe his audacity.

"It's only a matter of time," He brought her out of her stupor.

The man could feel Mary Jane tightening upon him, he could sense her rage boiling in the depths of her soul, and did not want to be on the receiving end of it. This did not, however, deter him in any way. In fact, her resistance only made the prize that much more rewarding.

At last, Katzenburg seemed to find what he was after, and rushed to the door, leaving the two alone. "Good news, we escaped detection." He whispered in his all too familiar lecherous tone.

Mary Jane had no misgivings about breaking the arms that held her in this groping manner. In a sudden movement, she struggled to break free from his tight embrace, and kicked the closet's door open, almost shattering the old wooden plate to pieces. The redhead stepped out of her confining space and picked up the first thing she could use as a weapon, a bent camera support tossed on the floor, to confront the bold unknown man.