Black Widow

"Mmmm," Tom moaned as his lips surrounded my hard nub.

Slowly at first, but picking up speed, he sucked and nibbled at each nipple in turn.

"Yes," I encouraged him. "You like that, don't you? You just can't get enough of my spidery tits."

He shook his head, dislodging my nipple from his mouth.

"What do you mean spidery?"

"Oh, sorry, must have been a flashback to that dream. I keep having them. You know, thinking I'm a sort of spider woman. They'll have me growing extra legs before too long. How silly would that be? Now, how about you suckle a bit more on my spidery tits. They so want to feel your lips squeeze down on the soft flesh. I'm sure it will be most relaxing."

"Relaxi . . ." his voice tailed off as I placed my hardened nipple back into the warmth of his mouth.

"Now, isn't that better?" I asked.

I got a sort of muffled agreement, Tom seemingly unable to release his attention from my tempting tits. Before long he was fixed on like a baby might latch on to its mother's breasts. He was sucking so hard that I half expected to fill his mouth with milk. Still though I encouraged him to continue, a strange feeling welling up deep in my flesh. Was this how a mother felt as she fed her child? Then it happened, the most bizarre feeling of all, as a trickle did seem to escape from my teased nipple. I must have dreamt it, but no . . .there was a second trickle, then a third. It was like . . . like . . . Tom was milking me.

To say I was confused was an understatement. I hadn't given birth so why were my breasts leaking into his mouth? I pulled back, expecting a reaction from Tom. What I got though was not the reaction I was expecting. He just seemed so relaxed, barely minding that I had withdrawn his toys. Then I remembered. That time in the bathroom, I had questioned the idea of poison and she had said it was more like a relaxant. Well, if this was it, then Tom was certainly relaxed. There was a glazed sheen in his eyes which suggested the same. Wondering just how relaxed he was, I picked myself up off his lap.

"Don't go," he practically pleaded, "come back and play."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm like that spider which you keep throwing out of the window but always finds a way of coming back."

"Well, come back to me now my spider woman. I need to . . . need to . . . need to . . ."

"Need to drink more of more spidery juices? If I let you have more, will you let me feel your manly seed fertilising my babies?"

"Yes," he practically pleaded. "You can have everything so long as I get to play with your succulent tits."

It was like he had become infatuated, not only relaxed but now sort of desperate for more of the same. The voice had called it both a relaxant and a poison. Yet, here was Tom calling out for more, seemingly hooked on whatever sweet taste it left in his mind.

"And, if I took your seed in exchange for my eggs, would you still say yes?"

"Yes," came an almost delirious reply.

"And, if this spider was casting a fatal web, would you still willingly allow her into your lair?"

"Yes," he called, beckoning me forward. "Come, into my lair, come seduce your waiting lover with your spidery charms."

Why all the questions? Did it make me feel less guilty at what might happen? He had invited me on to him, hadn't he? And who was I to turn down such a tasty offering.

"Shuffle down a little," I whispered, pulling at his knees to give him a clear idea of what I wanted.

He did just that, hanging his ass off the front of the sofa and sort of slumping back into the soft leather cushions. It was perfect, his rampant cock — was I dreaming or was he actually more engorged than normal? — now pointing obscenely towards the ceiling. It was all the encouragement I needed, the burning fire down below now coming to the fore again. Slowly, I straddled him once more, kneeling high above his legs.

"Looks like somebody's just a little excited. What would you like me to do about it?"

"Fuck me," he responded. "I want to feel you fuck me with your spidery cunt."

"Are you sure, Tom?"

"Yes," he practically pleaded. "Can't you see how much I want you?"

I let go of his cock and ran my fingers across my aching sex. I sort of knew that I was already damp, but still was surprised at how wet my lips were. Pulling them apart, I dipped a finger inside before returning back to the waiting cock. Lowering my knees, I inched closer and closer until his head was gently nudging up against my warmth.

"Tell me, Tom. Tell me how much you want me."

Just the touch of his cock up against my sex had him breathing quickly. I waited for his reply, but no words came. Instead, he placed a hand on each of my hips and pulled me down on to him. I gasped as I felt my opening stretch over his large cock. In one single movement I had gone from teasing his waiting head to having him impale himself inside my tight little pussy. I rested for a moment, offering him my breast once more as I enjoyed the feeling of being stuffed with his manhood.

I felt his grip release from my hips, Tom now seeming rather sleepy as he lay back on the sofa.

"That's it, my lover," I whispered. "Just relax and let me look after you. I'll make sure we enjoy every moment."

With that I started to ride, slowly at first as I ground up against his balls and then picking up speed. Before long there was nothing sensual about this fuck. I was practically bouncing up and down on his cock, in rhythm to a sort of carnal overture. The sofa squeaked with every move, Tom himself was grunting and I . . .well, suffice to say I was in a wold of my own, practically screaming with passion as I worked myself to a crescendo.

I came first, slamming myself down on his cock as I stiffened around him. It was an orgasm unlike any other and I practically thought my pussy was still working his cock inside as I pulsated wildly. Then it all happened in an instant. Tom, grunted hard as he flooded my insides with his warm seed, screamed then went quiet. I'd felt it myself, my pussy stiffening and then something shooting out from inside before disappearing once more. I simply sat there, his cock deep inside my pussy, the only sound now being his fast yet shallow breathing.

It was like . . . like . . . like Tom was falling asleep in front of me. Wrapping my arms around him, I snuggled up close.

"Thank you," I whispered. "I need to tell you, it was the best."

I climbed off, glancing down at the redness just in front of his now relaxing cock.

Inside, I knew what I had done. Just like the voice had said, I had mated. And just as she had suggested, the female of this species usually kills the male.

It was the smell which hit me next, a sort of burning coming from behind. Rushing over, I grabbed at the cooker knobs and quickly turned off the gas. We never did have that last dinner, the vegetables now burnt on the bottom of the pan and my lover seemingly drifting off to an eternal sleep. I quickly grabbed my clothes, dressed and left, before I could have too many regrets.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a month or so later when there was a knock at the door. I'd only just gotten out of the shower and thought better of answering. There it was again. Whoever was outside was definitely persistent. I grabbed for a robe, wrapping it around my still damp body and headed downstairs. With the chain in place, I opened the door an inch or so.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Police," came the reply. "I wondered if we could have a chat Mrs. Williams."

"It's Miss," I responded. "Can I ask what it is about?"

"I think it is better if we talk inside. It is about your partner, Tom Armstrong."

Suddenly I was back to remembering that last night together, my heart split between sadness for the end of our wonderful romance and the knowledge that Tom had helped on my journey to becoming what I now am.

I opened the door and let the officer in. He was older than me, maybe what I would have termed middle aged, and in good shape for his years. There was something about him though, something that I realised could turn out to be serious. I sat on the sofa and the policeman on a neighbouring armchair.

"What is it?" I asked. "I haven't seen Tom for a while. We're, sort of, not together any more."

"Well, you see, that is the problem. One of the neighbours called us to say that they had not seen Mr. Armstrong for some time either, so we paid him a visit."

"And did you find him?"

"Yes, we found him, and that is why we would like a conversation. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but when we found Mr. Armstrong he was already dead. In fact, he had been dead for some time."

"How long do you think?"

"That is a difficult one. By the way, when did you last see him?"

"I guess it was a month or so ago. Why?"

"We just need to be clear of what happened. It is a little confusing at the moment and maybe you could shed some light. You see, there are a few things we need to clarify. First of all was the state of his kitchen. The table was laid for two people, and on the cooker hob were pans of what seemed like burnt food, albeit a little mouldy given the time. Then there was a pair of women's panties which we found near the body, size eight in red if I recollect. Finally, and you just have to trust me as this is a bit strange, was the state of the house. Everywhere you looked just seemed to be covered in spider webs."

I swallowed hard. I'd left that night hoping the voice might be wrong and that Tom would wake up after I had gone, yet deep in my heart I sort of knew the answer. That sadness though was tempered by a feeling of joy at knowing my children were alive and well. There was one question in my mind which, although probably incriminating, I just had to ask.

"And, was his body . . . well . . . was he like a dried-out shell of himself?"

"How did you know that Miss Williams? I need to warn you that anything you now say may be used in evidence and it might harm . . ."

I cut him off. My mind was already one step ahead of him.

"I'm sorry, just a guess," I replied, standing up. "It must be the shock, but I feel a bit hot. Would you mind so much if I slipped off this robe?"

"Not at all," came the policeman's reply, his eyes down at his notepad as he started to write.

I dropped the robe and simply stood there, waiting for him to finish. He did and looked up at my naked body.

"Miss Williams," he started to say, "do you think you should put . . ."

He never quite finished his sentence, his mind somewhat distracted by my naked form. I ran my hand over my firm breasts, taking a step towards the confused policeman. He simply sat there, his eyes transfixed on my body, his mind most likely wondering just what would happen next.

"You like them, don't you?" I asked, taking his hand and placing it on my left breast. "How about we get a little more comfortable?"

He pulled away in an act if resistance, not a convincing one but at least his professionalism was trying to come through.

"Miss Williams . . ." he started.

"Please," I cut in, "you can call me Mel. Now, you're really cute and I do like a man in uniform. What's the problem with a little harmless fun and then you can go back to your notes? I'm sure nobody would miss you for an hour or so, and I wouldn't tell anyone. What do you say?"

By now I was practically sitting across his lap, my breasts hanging in front of his face.

"Go on," I whispered, "they are beautiful aren't they."

He nodded, as if under some spell.

"Wouldn't you like to take one in your mouth, to feel your lips around my hardened nipple? Go on, I won't tell."

Slowly he opened his mouth, placing his lips over my waiting nub.

"Why don't you suckle on it, just like mama used to let you do when you were little. My Tom really enjoyed the same."

The End.