Mary Jane's Fall from Grace

"I'm not sure I should talk about this with you of all people," she said quietly, her voice so faint he barely heard her.

She raised her voice slightly.

"He's always gone and the house is so empty," she said despairingly.

She stared down at the golden wine whirling in her glass again.

She glanced up at him and back at the swirling wine.

"He doesn't want us to go out together in public. He said people are starting to talk."

Damn! It looked like Spider-Man was about to foil his plans yet again, this time unwittingly.

In the silence after her words, slow sensuous music began to flow from high quality speakers hidden all about. There was a wooden dance floor next to their table.

Mary Jane looked at the dance floor forlornly, remembering better times with the husband.

Osborn stood ponderously and offered his hand, an invitation to dance.

Mary Jane looked at the offered hand and placed her long soft fingers on his palm.

They danced late into the night.

Osborn, playacting the perfect gentleman, holding her pressed firm against him, slowly and gracefully led her across the dance floor. Mary Jane enjoyed the romantic atmosphere and intimacy even if it wasn't with her husband.

They occasionally took breaks to wet their parched mouths. They started out drinking wine and eventually turned brandy when a couple of snifters magically appeared on their table between dances.

It went against Mary Jane's better judgement to switch from wine to hard liquor, but she was having such a good time and enjoying the intimacy that she blew it off and went with the flow.

Osborn's gentlemanly behavior lasted most of the night. He kept his hands where they were supposed to be, left at the small of her back and right lightly holding hers at shoulder level.

They continued to drink and dance. Eventually, the fingers of his age-spotted left hand began to trace delicate sensual circles in the small of her back.

He felt her tense and shiver as his gentle touch made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her nipples pucker and harden. She reached back and pressed his hand against her, stopping his teasing touch.

She leaned back in his arms and looked at him sharply.

They continued to dance and then his warm dry hand wandered down to trace the swell of her perfect heart-shaped ass.

She reached down and snatched his hand back to the small of her back. The old pervert was copping a feel!

After nearly an hour of dancing, they turned to go back to their table.

Osborn still held her delicate hand in his. As she turned to step away, he spun her around until she ended up tight against him, firmly in his arms.

"I think that deserves a kiss," he rasped through a dry throat. "What do you say?"

Smiling tolerantly, Mary Jane leaned down and held her cheek out to him, patting it with a slender well-manicured finger.

He pressed his shriveled lips against her soft unlined cheek and used the distraction to bring both his hands down to cup her taught round ass cheeks and press them against his swollen member. They were a perfect combination of hard and soft.

Laughing, she straightened up, pushed herself away from his groin and leaned back in his arms, looking down into his old wrinkled face sternly.

"Norman, behave yourself," she chided him firmly. "I'm a married woman."

"What? I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall. The dance floor is slippery," he said disarmingly.

She rolled her eyes and made a disdainful raspberry farting noise with her lips and tongue.

Mary Jane wondered why she wasn't upset at his forward behavior. As she stared down into his wrinkled old face, she actually found it flattering that she elicited such a reaction from an old man who was more than likely impotent.

She made no effort to remove his hands from her ass.

Osborn was in heaven. His hands explored her firm flesh, squeezing and creating mysterious symbols with his fingertips, gently tracing the lines below her firm globes, where her legs connected with her cheeks.

She was breathing heavily when she pushed his hands away from her ass and moved to go back to their table.

Norman caught her hand and twined his fingers with hers.

Through the fog of alcohol, Mary Jane determined he was just being mischievous.

Her mind was in turmoil as he held her hand the whole way home, occasionally bringing it to his lips to kiss it tenderly.

Still holding hands, they slid down the limousine seat and Osborn walked her to her door.

They stood at her porch and Mary Jane turned to face him, making no attempt to release his hand. Her foggy mind was still in turmoil. Why did she allow herself to continue? Why didn't she release his hand and walk in the house?

He was giving her the intimacy she craved.

They stood close together. Once again she felt his hard member press against her.

God, it was enormous and so incredibly hard. She shivered.

Using her hand to pull her down so her face was close to his, he leaned towards her.

"Can I kiss you again?" he whispered in her ear. His hot breath sent shivers of delight down her spine and made her nipples harden again.

Looking into his eyes, she nodded. Her full red lips were moist and slightly parted as he leaned in to kiss her.

She thought he was going to plant a chaste peck on her cheek as before, but he gripped her chin firmly and his lips caught hers. It was electric. She should've been repelled by the hideous old man but she found herself excited beyond words.

He didn't just plow in and shove his tongue down her throat, his kiss was both tender and demanding, powerful and gentle, equal measures burning hot and softly loving.

Mary Jane felt her knees nearly buckle as she felt his tongue trace the line of her plump lower lip, requesting entry. She opened her mouth and the kiss went from electric to nuclear.

His tongue probed her mouth, skimming over her teeth and prodding her own for a response. She responded by whining into his mouth and turning her head to make it easier for him to thrust his tongue deeper into her gasping mouth.

His tongue was long, thick and firm and it explored her mouth relentlessly.

Her knees actually did buckle, breaking their kiss and when she straightened up, he turned to shuffle back to his limo.

Stunned at her body's powerful reaction, she stared at the old man's retreating back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, honey," he said as he reached to open the car door.

She watched as the limousine drove away, Osborn stared forward stonily, ignoring her as she stood on her porch frozen in shock. Her body was aroused beyond measure. She shook uncontrollably and she could feel her panties were soaked with her excitement.

Did the old letch put something in her drink? Had he used some strange power to arouse her?

Shaking her head at the silly thoughts, she turned, unlocked the door with trembling hands and stepped into her house. Shutting the door, she leaned against it with her eyes closed, feeling its hard cold surface cool her heated body. She willed her heartbeat to slow and her breathing to calm. After a few minutes of deep calming breaths she opened her eyes and looked around at the big empty house.

Alone. Again.

She wasn't thinking of her young handsome superhero husband when climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Norman's electrifying kiss was still in her mind. The feel of his hard member pressing against her, the texture and warmth of his bony hand in hers, the sweet smell of brandy on his breath, the touch of his lips against hers.

She looked at the empty bed and sighed in frustration. If Peter were here, she wouldn't be going through this, he'd satisfy her every need and urge.

She sat on the bed and wondered about that. Did Peter's kisses elicit the kind of reaction Norman's kiss had provoked?

Mary Jane pondered her reaction. She and Norman were complete opposites. He was old, worn and ugly and she was young, fresh and beautiful as a dawning day. Were those differences what she found arousing? Was she so starved for intimacy that she'd cheat on her husband by letting the old man fondle and kiss her so intimately?

She reached down, gripped her form-fitting dress at the hips and pulled it up and over her head. She wore black lacy lingerie underneath... bra, panties and garters. The kind of underwear she usually wore just for her husband, or for a photo shoot, but for some reason she'd decided to wear it today.

Was she responsible for what happened between her and Norman? Did she anticipate it and somehow make it happen?

She looked at herself critically on a full length mirror, cupping and lifting her large firm breasts. Her nipples were visible through the black lacy material. She reached up to pinch them, they were hard, swollen and aroused and her areolas were bumpy and oh so sensitive.

She constantly wondered why she looked so young, not that she was complaining, though pregnancy had made her more voluptuous than the 18-year-old she resembled. Her hips and ass were rounder and more pronounced. Most other women had to pay for implants to have the curves Mary Jane naturally enjoyed.

Long nights of slinging through the streets of New York, fighting crime and bringing criminals to justice as Spinnaret toned her body to a razor's edge. She was strong, fast and limber as a gymnast. Her body looked as if she spent hours every day at the gym and people were amazed when she told them she'd never worked out a minute in her life.

She was five foot eight inches tall. Her legs were long and muscular yet they retained a soft feminine roundness. The rest of her toned body was the same, a mixture of hard muscle and soft, rounded female curves.

She looked at herself critically. As a fashion designer and model herself, she knew her body didn't quite meet the fashion industry's standards of beauty... her breasts were too big, her hips too wide and her ass too round.

And yet as the face of her company and with the success it had garnered, she was confident in her assessment that she'd established a new and different standard of beauty, based on her physical characteristics and not on the average woman or some half-starved teenage girl.

She struck a pose in the mirror, thrusting out a hip and smiled seductively at herself. She knew she had it.

She frowned. If she so had it, why didn't she find herself a handsome young man to flirt with instead of a dried up, hunched and ugly old man, covered in wrinkles and age spots, fat-bellied and saggy?

She shivered as an image of old Norman attempting a yoga pose in a pair of baggy shorts flashed through her mind's eye. She remembered her amazement at the size of his genitals and shivered again. She told herself she shivered in disgust, but deep down she knew she wasn't.

Most nights, she kept herself entertained by listening to police radio traffic on Peter's high tech communications equipment and then slinging off to capture the criminals.

It was during some of these dangerous chases that her voluptuous body, perfectly packaged in her skintight red and white Spinnaret outfit, served her well as a distraction. She'd even made adjustments to make it even tighter and more revealing.

One look at her curvaceous figure was sometimes enough to bring criminals to a crashing halt as they slammed into the side of a building or drove off the side of the road or did some other stupid thing.

She used her sexy voluptuous body as another tool in her crime fighting arsenal.

Her husband didn't care for it. He didn't like other men looking at his wife that way, but he couldn't deny that it was an effective distractor.

The more Spidey was away, the more Mary Jane came to enjoy flaunting her body at the criminals she fought and eventually captured. Always on her mind, however, was Osborn's wrinkled and ugly old face and the look in his eyes after he kissed her. She'd shake her head and try to think of Peter but always Norman Osborn's form would slowly overlay it.

Just as she liked to see the lust in the eyes of the criminals she fought, knowing they desired her, knowing they wanted to unleash their lust and violate her until her throat was raw from screaming, she enjoyed denying them the opportunity to ravage her before leaving them wrapped in webbing for the authorities.

Before their companies' success kept them apart, her modified outfit also served to entice her superhero husband. She felt Peter's eyes devour her body as they swung through the dark New York streets. His skintight red and blue costume easily revealed his arousal, thrilling Mary Jane to no end.

During their nighttime patrols, she would find opportunities to pose provocatively in front of him tempting him until he was unable to take it. He'd grab her, wrap her expertly in webbing and take her to a secluded rooftop or high-rise where he'd fuck her relentlessly to a screaming, body-shaking orgasm.

Mary Jane sighed sadly. Those were the days.

Lost in thoughts of happier sexy times, Mary Jane continued to preen and pose in front of the mirror.

Yeah, she still had it. Any man would give his soul for a night with her. But she didn't want just any man though, she wanted her husband.

Surely with his genius level intellect, Peter could make some attempt to revive their marriage.

Should she go to him?

No.

Mary Jane felt her face flush with anger. Why should she go out of her way to keep the passion in their marriage alive? Theirs was a partnership. It shouldn't be just up to her to make their relationship flourish.

Again, an image of Norman Osborn flashed through her mind, but she felt a sudden heat in her loins when she pictured his ugly old face twisted in lust as he plowed his thick hard member into her from behind, gripping her wide hips and thrusting into her relentlessly.

She shook her head, dispelling the unexpected and unwanted image.

She was so horny and knowing Peter wasn't around to satisfy her needs, Mary Jane decided to take matters into her own hands... so to speak.

She reached up again to tweak her aroused nipples through her lacy bra and ran her hands down her tits, to her belly to lace garters and panties absolutely soaked with her sexual juices. Her pussy was drenched.

Had Norman's kiss aroused her that much? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and denied the possibility, but deep inside she gave an unequivocal and enthusiastic yes.

What if Norman had tried to take the kiss further?

She reached behind her and unclipped her bra then she rolled the soaked lace panties down her long slender legs. She kept the stockings and garters on. She looked at herself in the mirror again. She could see beads of moisture on her well-trimmed shiny red pubic hair and the lips of her outer labia were flushed red and swollen with arousal.

She turned the mirror to face the bed and lay on her back. She pulled down and arranged the throw pillows so she could lean forward and watch herself.

Looking in the mirror, she saw a gorgeous red-haired young woman wearing black lace stockings and garters lying on her back. Her skin, normally a lovely peaches and cream, was flushed red and shiny and slick with sweat.

She put her hands on her neck and trailed her fingers down to her breasts and, remembering Norman's fingers on her lower back, drew symbols on the soft sensitive skin.

She whined and arched her back when her fingers gently squeezed her turgid nipples. They were hard as pebbles, swollen and ultra-sensitive to the touch.

Mary Jane had been so absorbed with Norman's electrifying kiss that she hadn't noticed that one of his hands had reached up to squeeze one of her breasts, pinching her aroused nipple between two knobby fingers.

She licked her fore and middle fingers. She'd discovered early on in her masturbatory career that when she did this before she stimulated her clit it would be the closest she'd ever get to the feeling of oral sex by masturbating. Plus, the feel of her wet fingers on her clit stimulated her and made her pussy even wetter.

She made a V with her moistened fingers and rubbed them on either side of her clit then she dipped down to her pussy and slipped her already wet fingers deep inside, curving them so they'd stimulate the clasping upper walls of her pussy.

She mewled again and watched the red-haired girl squirming on the bed with lust-dilated eyes.

She didn't focus solely on her loins, she explored her whole body. After stimulating her nipples, her hand wandered languidly to her ears and neck, down the valley between her breasts to the insides of her thighs, and all the way down to her dainty feet. She took her time finding the erogenous zones on her body multiplying the pleasure as her fingers finally found their way to her clit.

Using her moist fingertips, she made soft slow circles on the hood of her clitoris.

She tried to picture her handsome husband but only images of Norman's old face flashed through her mind. She felt his bony hands squeezing her ass, his breath in her ear, the long rock-hard lump in his pants pressing against her loins, his lips on hers as he kissed her with unexpected skill and passion.

She moved her fingers up and down, occasionally sliding them in and out of her vagina. She flicked her clit from side to side then pinched it gently with her fingertips. She gradually sped up and added pressure and then slowed down and took the pressure away. She teased herself, allowing the pressure to build within her. She knew an explosive orgasm was on the near horizon and wanted to ride the roaring wave when it came.

Her other hand moved back up to her breasts, squeezing one and then the other, occasionally pinching and pulling on a nipple, while the fingers of her other hand dipped again into her pussy, finding the little bump at the top of her love tunnel.

Putting firm pressure on the tiny nub, she rubbed and rubbed it, churning her hips and pulling her nipple.

She watched the beautiful girl in the mirror gasping for air. Her moist red mouth was open and there was a desperate urgent need in her eyes, a need so intense and all-consuming that she seemed at the edge of madness.

She closed her mouth and hissed through gritted teeth as the pressure built and built. She added more and more pressure to her G-spot.

She took her hand out of her churning, clasping pussy and, stiffening her fingers, began to push down one side of her clit and then the other.

Her mind was lost in a fog of lust.

She pictured Norman pushing her against the front door as their passionate kiss intensified.

Mary Jane's hand rubbed her clit as she imagined her hands exploring the old man's wrinkled body, finding his flabby belly and loose wobbly skin both repulsive and incredibly arousing.

Looking into the mirror, she pictured that beautiful young woman making out like a teenager with the hideous 90-year-old man and saw her thrust two fingers deep into her pussy, fucking herself madly, her beautiful face twisted in a rictus of lust and need.

In her mind's eye, she and the shrunken ugly old man tumble onto her and Peter's marriage bed, their lips locked in desperate passion, neither willing to stop, neither wanting to stop, yet each wanting more.

Mary Jane's fingers thrust faster and faster at the thought of the old man kneeling between her wide-spread legs with his long thick cock aimed at her pussy like a long fleshy lance.

In her mind's eye she pictured him staring down at her, laser-focused and filled with a desire so powerful she felt it would consume her with its heat.

Fingers thrusting, pressure building, she watched him line up his big fleshy member at the drooling entrance to her heated pussy and slowly push inside her.

Lights flashed before her eyes as an orgasm of titanic proportions consumed her.

Her wide open eyes stared at the lovely red-haired young woman's heaving, twisting, and sweating body, picturing Norman Osborn's wrinkled old form on top of her slamming a massive wrinkled cock inside her hungry pussy like a pile driver.