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Steam curled thickly from the half-open bathroom door, mingling with the scent of lavender soap and the faint, underlying earthiness of Texas morning air seeping through the cracked window. Peter Parker rubbed his eyes, still groggy from a night of fitful sleep on the guest room couch—Glenda's home was cozy, but the old springs dug into his back like persistent reminders of the chaos he'd left behind in New York. A few days into this unexpected retreat, and he was starting to unwind, or at least that's what he told himself. Tony Stark had dropped him here with minimal explanation: "She's good people, kid. Old friend. Get some rest, clear your head after... everything." No mention of how they knew each other, just a pat on the shoulder and a jet back to whatever crisis was brewing next.
Peter padded down the hallway in his borrowed sweatpants and a faded band tee Glenda had lent him, aiming for the kitchen where the coffee pot usually gurgled by now. He heard the shower running, a steady patter against tile, but his spider-sense didn't twitch—nothing dangerous, just the hum of a normal household. He pushed the door open without thinking, assuming it was ajar for ventilation, his mind already on the mug he'd grab.
The sight hit him like a web-sling gone wrong. Glenda stood under the spray, water cascading over her bare skin, her hair darkened and slicked back from her face. She was turned slightly away, one hand lathering soap along her arm, the curve of her hip and the line of her back exposed in the steam-softened light. Peter's breath caught, his face flushing hot as he froze in the doorway.
"Oh—shit, sorry!" He stammered, spinning on his heel, but his foot caught the edge of the bathmat, sending him stumbling back a step. "I didn't—I thought—coffee—"
Glenda turned slowly, unhurried, the water streaming down her shoulders and over the swell of her breasts. Her eyes met his, green and steady, a small smile curving her lips—not embarrassed, not angry, just... amused. Welcoming, even. She reached out and turned the faucet off with a twist, the sudden silence amplifying the drip-drip from the showerhead.
"Peter," she said softly, her voice carrying that Texas drawl laced with something warmer, more inviting. "No need to bolt like a startled colt. Come here."
He hesitated, his heart hammering in his chest, but her gaze held him, pulling him back around. She stepped out onto the mat, water pooling at her feet, her body glistening in the morning light filtering through the frosted window. Scars faint and old traced her skin—a thin line along her ribs, a constellation of freckles across her collarbone—but she moved with a confidence that made them part of her, not flaws. She grabbed a towel from the rack but didn't wrap it around herself; instead, she dabbed at her face, watching him with that same smile.
"I... I really didn't mean to," Peter managed, his voice cracking slightly, though he couldn't tear his eyes away. She was beautiful in a way that felt real, lived-in—curves softened by time, strength in the set of her shoulders from years of whatever life had thrown at her. "This is—embarrassing."
Glenda laughed, a low, ringing sound that echoed off the tiles. "Embarrassing? Darlin', life's too short for that. You've been cooped up here, tense as a spring. I see it in how you pace at night." She stepped closer, the steam still swirling between them, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers were warm, slick from the water, tracing up to his shoulder. "Tony sent you to relax. Let me help with that."
Peter swallowed hard, his spider-strength useless against the pull of her touch. "Glenda, I— we're—"
"Shh." She pressed a finger to his lips, her body now inches from his, the heat radiating off her skin mingling with his own rising flush. "No one's here but us. Door's closed now." She glanced back, confirming it, then leaned in, her breath brushing his ear. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not noticing. Those quick glances over breakfast, the way you linger when I stretch after yoga in the living room."
He couldn't deny it. From the moment he'd arrived, Glenda had been a puzzle—kind, sharp-witted, with stories that hinted at a life full of adventures he could only guess at. She'd cooked him meals that reminded him of Aunt May's, listened to his rambles about web-fluid formulas without judgment, even shared a beer on the porch while stargazing. But there was an undercurrent, a spark in her eyes that made his stomach flip.
Her hand slid down his chest, fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants. "Tell me to stop if you want," she murmured, her lips grazing his jaw. "But I don't think you do."
Peter's resolve crumbled. He shook his head, his hands tentatively reaching for her waist, feeling the slick warmth of her skin. "No... I don't."
Glenda's smile widened, triumphant and tender. She pulled him fully into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind them with her heel. The click of the lock was decisive, intimate. She tugged his shirt over his head, her eyes roaming over the lean muscles of his torso, the faint bruises from old fights fading but still visible. "Look at you," she whispered, tracing a scar on his side. "So strong, but carrying so much."
He kissed her then, hesitant at first, but she met him with a hunger that surprised him—her lips soft and insistent, tasting of mint toothpaste and the faint salt of her skin. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing together in the humid air. Peter's hands explored her back, fingers splaying across the dimples at the base of her spine, drawing a soft moan from her.
Peter's hands roamed lower as they stood under the warm cascade of the shower, the water now turned back on at Glenda's insistence— "Let's rinse off properly, darlin', before we make more of a mess." Steam enveloped them again, thickening the air with heat and the scent of her lavender soap. He was still buried inside her from their earlier coupling on the counter, but now they were chest to chest, her back against the tiled wall, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust slowly, languidly, savoring the aftershocks. His palms slid down her slick sides, over the flare of her hips, until they cupped her ass—full, round cheeks that filled his grip perfectly, soft yet firm from years of yoga and whatever adventures her life had thrown at her.
He squeezed, fingers digging in just enough to elicit a gasp from her, the flesh yielding under his touch. "God, Glenda," he murmured against her neck, water streaming over them both, his voice rough with lingering desire. "Your ass... it's amazing."
Glenda chuckled, that low, ringing laugh echoing off the shower walls, her head tilting back to let the spray hit her face. She clenched around him deliberately, drawing a groan from his throat, her hands threading through his wet hair. "Oh, honey, you like these curves, do you? I've earned 'em. Not some gym bunny nonsense—real woman curves, from good Texas eatin' and a life well-lived. Wide hips for swayin' on the dance floor, full tits that turn heads, and this ass?" She pushed back against his hands, grinding her cheeks into his palms with a teasing roll. "It's been breakin' hearts since I was in my twenties. Men and women alike can't keep their eyes off it. Hell, back in Huntsville, I'd catch lab techs starin' during briefings, pretendin' to scribble notes. But it's not just for lookin'—it's for appreciatin' properly."
Peter's thrusts picked up slightly, the water making everything slicker, hotter, his fingers kneading her ass like dough, spreading the cheeks apart just a bit to feel the warmth between. "Tell me more," he breathed, nipping at her collarbone, the freckles there blurring under the rivulets. "What do you like... with it?"
She smirked, her green eyes locking onto his through the steam, water beading on her lashes like tiny jewels. "One of my favorites? Havin' it eaten. Nothin' like a tongue right there, darlin'—slow circles, deep licks, makin' me squirm till I can't think straight. Gets me wetter than this shower ever could. Been a go-to since my first real lover showed me how good it feels. You game, Peter? Wanna taste my thick ass?"
The words hung in the humid air, bold and unapologetic, her voice dropping to that husky drawl that made his cock twitch inside her. Peter's breath hitched, arousal surging anew despite the recent release. He pulled out slowly, both of them groaning at the loss, and eased her legs down until her feet touched the wet tile. She turned without prompting, bracing her hands against the wall, arching her back to present herself—ass high, water cascading down her spine and over the curves like a waterfall. Freckles dotted her cheeks too, faint and inviting, her pussy still glistening below, lips swollen from their fucking.
Peter dropped to his knees behind her, the shower spray hitting his back, warm tiles pressing into his skin. His hands gripped her thighs first, spreading them wider, thumbs tracing up to part her cheeks fully. "Like this?" he asked, voice tentative but eager, leaning in to plant a kiss on one globe, then the other, his tongue flicking out to taste the clean, soapy skin.
"Mmm, just like that," Glenda purred, pushing back slightly, her body trembling with anticipation. "Start slow, baby. Lick around first, tease me."
He obliged, his tongue tracing the curve where cheek met thigh, lapping at the water droplets before moving inward. The scent of her was intoxicating—clean lavender mixed with her natural musk, arousal lingering from before. Peter flattened his tongue, dragging it up the cleft in a broad stroke, circling the tight ring of her asshole with deliberate slowness. Glenda moaned, long and low, her fingers curling against the tile. "Yes—fuck, Peter, right there. Deeper."
Emboldened, he pressed his face closer, tongue probing now, flicking against the puckered entrance before pushing in gently, tasting her fully. His hands kneaded her cheeks, spreading them wide to give himself better access, the water making everything slippery and hot. She rocked back against his mouth, her breaths coming in sharp gasps, one hand reaching down to touch herself, fingers circling her clit in time with his licks. "That's it, eat that ass—make it yours. God, your tongue feels so good..."
Peter hummed against her, the vibration drawing another cry from her lips, his own cock hardening again against his thigh as he worked her over—alternating between soft laps and firmer thrusts, sucking lightly at the rim, exploring every inch. The shower drowned out the world, leaving only the sounds of her moans, the wet slurp of his mouth, the patter of water. Glenda's body tensed, her orgasm building from the dual stimulation, and she ground back harder, chasing it. "Don't stop—I'm close, darlin'. Tongue fuck me till I come."
She guided him backward toward the sink counter, her movements fluid, experienced. "Easy," she breathed against his mouth, her hands pushing down his sweatpants, freeing him. He gasped as her fingers wrapped around him, stroking slowly, her touch firm and knowing. "Let go, Peter. Just feel."
He lifted her onto the counter with ease—his strength making it effortless—and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him between her thighs. The mirror behind her fogged from their combined heat, but he caught glimpses: her red hair tumbling wet over her shoulders, her eyes half-lidded with desire. She reached down, guiding him, and he pushed into her slowly, both of them groaning at the sensation.
"Oh, yes," Glenda sighed, her head tilting back against the mirror, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that."
Peter moved with her, his hips finding a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart—slow at first, savoring the tightness, the warmth enveloping him. She rocked against him, her breaths coming in sharp gasps, her hands roaming his back, urging him deeper. "Harder," she whispered, her voice husky. "Don't hold back."
He obliged, thrusting with more force, the counter creaking under them. Glenda's moans filled the small space, echoing off the walls—raw, unfiltered. She kissed him fiercely, biting his lower lip, her body arching to meet each movement. Sweat mingled with the remnants of her shower, slicking their skin, making every slide electric.
"You're incredible," Peter murmured, his face buried in her neck, inhaling the lavender and her natural scent. "Glenda—"
She clenched around him, her body trembling as she neared the edge. "Come with me," she urged, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just enough to send sparks down his spine. "Now, Peter."
The climax hit them together—her crying out, a high, sharp sound that echoed her laughter from earlier, her body shuddering against his. Peter followed, spilling into her with a groan, his vision blurring in the steam. They clung to each other, breaths ragged, the world narrowing to the feel of her heartbeat against his chest.
Afterward, she slid down, her feet touching the cool tile, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she cupped his face, kissing him softly, lingering. "See? Relaxed already."
Peter chuckled breathlessly, his forehead resting against hers. "Yeah... yeah, I am." He paused, a question bubbling up. "Tony... he never said how you two know each other."
Glenda's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Now that's a story for another morning. Coffee now?"
He nodded, grinning, as she wrapped the towel around herself finally, leading him out. The day felt lighter already.
They lingered in the kitchen for a while, the coffee brewing with a low gurgle that filled the quiet house. Glenda, still wrapped in her towel, poured two mugs, adding a splash of milk to Peter's without asking—she'd noticed how he took it over the past few days. She handed it to him, her fingers brushing his, and leaned against the counter, sipping slowly. The steam rose between them, carrying the rich aroma, but Peter's eyes kept drifting to the way the towel clung to her curves, the droplets still tracing lazy paths down her neck.
"You okay there, darlin'?" she asked, her voice teasing, that smirk playing at her lips again. She set her mug down and stepped closer, her hand trailing up his arm, nails lightly scraping his skin. "You look like you've got more on your mind than caffeine."
Peter set his own mug aside, the heat in his cheeks not just from the steam. "Yeah, I... that was..." He trailed off, but his hands found her waist, pulling her against him. She fit perfectly, her body soft and warm, pressing into his with an ease that made his pulse quicken again.
Glenda chuckled, low and throaty, her breath warm against his neck as she nuzzled there. "Intense? Good. But we're not done yet." She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes, her green gaze dark with promise. "Bedroom. Now."
He didn't argue. She led him down the hallway, her towel slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her breast as she walked, hips swaying with deliberate invitation. Peter's sweatpants felt tighter already, his body responding to the sight of her, the memory of the bathroom still fresh—her moans, the way she'd clenched around him. The guest room door was open, but she bypassed it, pulling him into her own bedroom instead. It was lived-in, cozy: a queen bed with rumpled sheets, books stacked on the nightstand, a faint scent of lavender and something earthier, like the mesquite from the yard outside.
She turned to him at the foot of the bed, letting the towel drop to the floor in a soft heap. Naked again, unashamed, her red hair drying in loose waves that framed her face. Freckles dusted her shoulders, leading down to full breasts, nipples already hardening in the cooler air. Her hands went to his waistband, tugging his sweatpants down with a swift motion, freeing him once more. He was hard, aching, and she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slowly, her thumb circling the tip.
"Get on the bed," Peter said, his voice rougher than he intended, surprising even himself. But she smiled, that knowing curve of her lips, and obeyed—crawling onto the mattress on all fours, looking back over her shoulder with an arched brow.
"Like this?" she purred, positioning herself, knees spread, back arched to present herself to him. Her ass was round, inviting, the skin smooth with a few faint stretch marks that only made her more real, more tantalizing. He could see her wetness glistening, evidence of their earlier encounter, and it made his mouth dry.
Peter climbed up behind her, his hands gripping her hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. He positioned himself, the head of his cock teasing her entrance, sliding along her folds. She pushed back slightly, impatient, a soft whine escaping her lips. "Don't tease, Peter. Fuck me."
He thrust in with one smooth motion, burying himself deep. Glenda gasped, her fingers clutching the sheets, her body rocking forward from the force. He was thicker than she expected, filling her completely, stretching her in a way that sent sparks up her spine. Peter groaned, the heat of her enveloping him, tight and slick. He pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, then slammed back in, setting a rhythm—hard, deliberate thrusts that made the bed creak.
"Yes, just like that," she moaned, her voice muffled against the pillow as she lowered her head, pushing her ass higher. Her breasts swayed with each impact, nipples brushing the sheets, adding friction that made her shiver. Peter's hands roamed, one sliding up her back to tangle in her hair, pulling gently to arch her further, the other reaching around to cup her breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers.
He watched himself slide in and out, the sight hypnotic—her pussy gripping him, coating him with her arousal. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by her breathy cries. "Harder," she demanded, grinding back against him, meeting his thrusts. "Give it to me, baby."
The word slipped out before he could stop it, fueled by the heat, the intensity, the way she commanded him like she knew every secret desire. "Mommy," Peter gasped, his hips faltering for a split second as the syllable hung in the air. He froze, embarrassment flooding him, but then he saw it—over her shoulder, Glenda's face turned slightly, her lips curling into a smirk, eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker, more approving.
"Oh, honey," she said, her voice a sultry drawl, not mocking but embracing it. "You can call me that if it makes you feel good." She clenched around him deliberately, drawing a moan from his throat, encouraging him to keep going.
Peter rolled with it, the initial shock melting into the rhythm. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, one hand bracing on the mattress as he thrust deeper, faster. "Mommy," he repeated, testing it, his voice low and breathless. "You feel so good... so tight."
Glenda laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her body, making her walls flutter around him. "That's right, darlin'. Mommy's got you." She reached back, her hand finding his thigh, nails digging in as she urged him on. "Fuck Mommy harder. Make me come."
The words ignited him. He pounded into her, the angle perfect for hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out, her body trembling. Sweat slicked their skin, making every slide smoother, more intense. Peter's free hand slipped between her legs, fingers finding her clit, circling it in time with his thrusts—firm, insistent pressure that had her gasping, her hips bucking wildly.
"Oh, fuck—Peter, yes!" Glenda's voice rose, breaking on his name. She was close, her muscles tensing, the heat building low in her belly. He could feel it, the way she tightened, pulling him deeper. "Don't stop, baby. Mommy's gonna come all over you."
He didn't. His thrusts grew erratic, powerful, the bedframe banging against the wall. The room smelled of sex—musky, primal—and her moans filled it, raw and unrestrained. Peter's own release built, coiling tight, but he held back, focusing on her, on the way her body responded to him.
She shattered first, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. "Yes—oh, God, yes!" Her pussy spasmed around him, milking him, her back arching as she pushed back hard. Juices coated his cock, dripping down her thighs, and she shuddered, her cries turning to whimpers as the aftershocks rolled through her.
Peter followed moments later, burying himself deep with a final thrust. "Mommy—fuck!" He came hard, spilling inside her, his body jerking with each pulse. The world narrowed to the feel of her, the sound of her ragged breaths matching his.
They collapsed together, Peter rolling to the side to avoid crushing her, pulling her against him. Glenda turned in his arms, that smirk still there, softened now with satisfaction. She kissed him lazily, her hand stroking his cheek. "See? Nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have our kinks."
He laughed breathlessly, nuzzling her neck. "Yeah... guess so." The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over them, and for the first time in days, Peter felt truly at ease.
They lay tangled in the sheets for a moment, breaths slowing, bodies slick with sweat and the lingering heat of their release. Glenda's chest rose and fell against Peter's, her red hair fanned out across the pillow like a fiery halo. She traced lazy circles on his back with her fingernails, the touch light but possessive, drawing a shiver from him. Peter lifted his head, meeting her eyes—those green depths still sparkling with that mix of mischief and satisfaction. He kissed her softly at first, a brush of lips that deepened as she responded, her tongue slipping into his mouth with a slow, teasing swirl.
"Not done yet, are you?" Glenda murmured against his lips, her voice husky, laced with that Texas drawl that made everything sound like an invitation. Her hands slid down to his hips, pulling him closer, feeling him twitch against her thigh—already stirring again, his youth and stamina a thrill she hadn't expected but welcomed.
Peter grinned, nipping at her lower lip. "With you? No way." He shifted, rolling them so she was beneath him, her legs parting instinctively to cradle his weight. He settled atop her, his body covering hers completely—chest to chest, hips aligned, the hard length of him pressing against her core. She arched slightly, grinding up into him, drawing a groan from deep in his throat.
He captured her mouth again, the kiss turning fierce, tongues battling as his hands roamed. One palm cupped her breast, thumb circling the nipple until it pebbled under his touch, while the other slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, to grab a handful of her ass. He squeezed hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling her tighter against him. Glenda moaned into the kiss, her nails raking down his back in response, leaving faint red trails that made him hiss with pleasure.
"God, your ass is perfect," Peter breathed, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along her jaw, down her neck, sucking at the pulse point there. He kneaded her cheek roughly, spreading her slightly as he positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging her entrance—still slick from before, warm and inviting.
Glenda laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her chest into his. "Flatterer. Show me what you got, darlin'." She wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his thighs, urging him on. Her hands found his hair, tugging him back to her mouth for another deep kiss, all teeth and tongue, messy and urgent.
Peter thrust forward, sinking into her in one powerful stroke, filling her pussy completely. She gasped, her walls clenching around him, the sensation electric—tight, wet, and so damn good. He started pounding into her, hips snapping with a relentless rhythm, each drive pushing her deeper into the mattress. The bed creaked under them, the headboard thumping against the wall in time with his movements. His hand stayed on her ass, gripping hard, using the leverage to pull her into every thrust, angling deeper, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out.
"Yes—fuck, Peter, right there," Glenda panted, her lips brushing his as they made out sloppily, breaths mingling in hot gasps. She bit his tongue lightly, sucking on it, her body rocking up to meet him. Sweat beaded on her skin, trickling between her breasts, and he dipped his head to lick it away, tongue flicking over her nipple before returning to her mouth.
He pounded harder, the slap of their bodies echoing in the room—wet, obscene, intoxicating. His free hand joined the other on her ass, grabbing both cheeks now, spreading them as he drove in, feeling her tighten around him with every plunge. "Mommy," he groaned into the kiss, the word slipping out again, raw and needy. She smirked against his lips, her eyes fluttering open to meet his, no judgment, just heat.
"That's my boy," she whispered, clenching deliberately around him, milking his cock as he hammered into her. "Pound Mommy's pussy—make it yours."
The words spurred him on, his thrusts turning brutal, hips pistoning as he chased the building pressure. Glenda's moans grew louder, her body trembling beneath him, nails scraping his shoulders. She kissed him fiercely, tongue delving deep, swallowing his grunts as the pleasure coiled tighter. The room filled with the scent of them—musk and lavender, sweat and sex—and Peter lost himself in it, in her, pounding relentlessly until they both teetered on the edge again.
Glenda's body quivered beneath him, her orgasm rippling through her in waves that pulled him deeper, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock as he thrust one final time, spilling into her with a muffled groan against her neck. Peter collapsed atop her, their sweat-slicked skin sticking together, breaths coming in heavy pants that fogged the air between them. She wrapped her arms around his back, holding him close, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his spine as the afterglow settled in. The room was quiet now, save for the distant hum of the ceiling fan and the faint chirp of birds outside the window.
He kissed her softly, lingering on her lips, tasting the salt of their exertion. Glenda smiled into the kiss, her hands sliding down to cup his ass, giving a playful squeeze. "Mmm, you're insatiable," she murmured, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. But even as she said it, she felt him softening inside her, the warmth of their combined release trickling between her thighs.
Peter rolled off to the side, pulling her with him so they lay facing each other, legs entwined. He brushed a damp strand of red hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. "That was... wow." His phone buzzed on the nightstand, a insistent vibration that cut through the haze. He glanced at it, seeing "Aunt May" flashing on the screen—a text, probably checking in, as she always did. Guilt flickered in his eyes, but Glenda caught it, her smirk returning.
"Answer it," she said, her tone teasing, propped up on one elbow as she watched him reach for the device. "Can't keep family waiting." Her hand trailed down his chest, nails lightly scraping over his abs, dipping lower to where he was still semi-hard, glistening from their lovemaking.
Peter grabbed the phone, thumbing it open with one hand while trying to ignore the way her touch made him twitch. The text was simple: "Hey kiddo, everything okay down there? Tony said you're resting, but you know me—worried aunt mode. Call if you need anything. Love you." He started typing back, something quick and reassuring—"All good, Aunt May. Just chilling. Miss you too."—but midway through, Glenda shifted, sliding down his body with a predatory grace.
She settled between his legs, her breath hot against his thigh as she nuzzled there, planting soft kisses along the sensitive skin. Peter tensed, his fingers hovering over the screen. "Glenda, wait—I—"
"Shh," she whispered, her green eyes locking onto his from below, full of mischief. "Keep texting. Pretend I'm not here." Her tongue darted out, licking a slow stripe along his length, cleaning the remnants of their earlier passion. He groaned softly, his hips bucking involuntarily, but he forced his attention back to the phone, finishing the message and hitting send.
Glenda's lips parted, taking the head of his cock into her mouth with a gentle suck, her tongue swirling around the tip. She hummed appreciatively, the vibration sending jolts up his spine. Peter's free hand fisted the sheets, his other thumb shaky as another text from May popped up: "Good to hear. Eat something healthy, okay? No more junk food heroes." He tried to reply—"Promise. Glenda's cooking is amazing."—but Glenda took him deeper, her mouth enveloping him fully, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed slowly, her hand wrapping around the base to stroke what she couldn't fit.
"Fuck," he whispered, his voice strained, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping back to the screen. Glenda's pace was deliberate, teasing—sucking hard on the upstroke, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, tracing the vein there. She looked up at him through her lashes, watching his face contort with pleasure, the way he bit his lip to stifle a moan. Her free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, adding to the overload.
The phone buzzed again—May: "Glenda? Tony mentioned her. Old friend of his? Sounds nice. Tell me about her." Peter's thumbs fumbled, typing out a garbled response at first—"She's great, really welcoming."—correcting it as Glenda's head dipped lower, her throat relaxing to take him all the way, nose brushing his pubic hair. He thrust shallowly into her mouth, unable to help it, and she encouraged him with a soft gag, her eyes watering but sparkling with amusement.
He hit send, then dropped the phone to the bed, his hand finally tangling in her hair. "Mommy—shit, that feels so good." Glenda pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him firmly as she grinned up at him.
"Tell her I'm taking good care of you," she purred, before diving back down, sucking with renewed vigor, her head moving faster now, slurping sounds filling the room. Peter's hips rocked up to meet her, his breaths ragged, the phone forgotten as another text came in, unread. She worked him expertly, alternating between deep throating and focusing on the head, her saliva dripping down his shaft, making everything slick and messy.
He came with a choked cry, spilling down her throat, and Glenda swallowed every drop, milking him through it until he was spent, twitching in her mouth. She released him slowly, licking her lips as she crawled back up, kissing him deeply so he could taste himself on her tongue. "See? Multitasking."
Peter laughed breathlessly, picking up the phone to see May's latest: "Hello? Earth to Peter." He typed back quickly—"Sorry, got distracted. Yeah, she's awesome. Talk soon."—and set it aside, pulling Glenda close again. The morning stretched on, lazy and intimate, with no rush to leave the bed.