Widow's Welcome

She suckled dotingly on his head, swirling her tongue around it, the incomparably soft inner lining of her mouth bearing down on him as she drew him deeper. Her sucking grew more ardent, her hand starting to stroke his shaft now, her tongue dancing across his exposed glans with surprising finesse. Something about being bound like this made him feel a kind of vulnerability that only heightened his pleasure, each fruitless tug of the silk webbing that secured his wrists to the bedposts reminding him that he was here at Moira's pleasure. She could do whatever she wanted with him -- to him -- and the prospect was gradually becoming more attractive.

Moira paused her gentle nursing for a moment, letting his member slide past her lips with a wet pop, leaving him throbbing in the cold air. He could see movement behind her, those arachnid legs moving frantically again. They passed something to her human hands, draping her fingers in silvery webbing, Moira lifting them so that he could see better.

"Did you ever play Cat's Cradle as a child?" she asked, spreading her digits to show him the glistening threads that joined them. With movements so quick and fluid that he could scarcely follow them, she formed the webs into a shape like a pair of Xs, then again into one that resembled a ladder. "The goal is to pass the shape between the players, changing it a little each time, until it breaks or becomes too complex. Seeing as you're...indisposed," she added as she glanced up at him. "I think we'll have to give it a new spin."

She brought her hands to his erection, draping the delicate strands over it, then started to wind them around his shaft. She was so dexterous, so skilled, soon cocooning his swollen length in what looked like a web of gossamer fabric. There were strands attached to each of her fingertips, he realized, looped around them like tiny nooses. It looked like she was about to put on a puppet show where his member was the opening act. Moira kept her eyes on his, watching him carefully as she gave one of the strands a slight tug, Freddy grunting as he felt something tighten around his cock.

Only now did he realize that each of those fine threads was connected to a point in the silken lattice, the surrounding strands tightening when Moira pulled. She did it again, closer to his base this time, strands as soft as satin constricting as though he was being squeezed between her thumb and forefinger. Like plucking at the strings of a harp, she began to play, her fingers moving in a slow wave as that sensation of tightness glided up his shaft.

"Didn't I warn you that you'd never had a woman like me before?" she said, affording herself a satisfied smile as she drank in his reaction. "Once I've learned what threads to pluck -- everything that makes you tick -- you'll beg to stay. I know it."

She moved her fingers in the air, tweaking and tugging at those strands, the novel and unexpected sensations making Freddy flinch and writhe. It was hard to believe that the same silk that felt so wonderfully soft against his skin was the same material that bound his hands and feet, more than strong enough to resist the ardent struggling of a grown man. It was likely far stronger than that, even.

It almost felt like phantom fingers were stroking him, or like dozens of pairs of disembodied lips were pursing around his shaft at once, all in different places. He felt the first unreserved, irresistible wave of pleasure crash over him, his stomach swarming with butterflies as she made him her willing plaything. Was she right? If she stopped now, would he beg her to continue?

Using nothing but the shining threads, Moira guided his member to her lips again, maneuvering it into her mouth. She doted on his glans as she kept up her strange game, the ever-alternating sensations of tightness now joined by the feeling of her hot, wet tongue tracing every contour of his anatomy. Her black lipstick rubbed off on his skin, leaving lurid trails to mark where her lips had roamed, her tongue just as practiced as her fingers.

"Fuck," Freddy snarled through gritted teeth as she stimulated his glans with a maddening flurry of licks.

"Language," she chided in a mocking tone, tightening all of the strands at once. If it was supposed to deter him, it had the opposite effect, the bedframe creaking as his spine arched off the mattress. "Perhaps I should wring one out of you so that you can last longer when it really counts," she added. "It might be wrong of me to toy with you like this, but it's been decades, and I'm oh so excited to get to know you intimately. A strapping young man like yourself should have enough stamina to provide at least a few hours of entertainment, wouldn't you agree?"

"A few hours?" Freddy stammered, his face starting to redden.

"Oh, look at you blushing," she cooed as another warm smile brightened her face. "You didn't think I'd be satisfied with a quick roll in the hay after decades of hibernation, did you, darling? I like that you're a little shy," she added, giving his member another tug that sent his head spinning. "Men who feel that they have to take charge in every situation are such a terrible bore, and I'm old enough to be somewhat set in my ways."

Her hands began to move again, Freddy feeling the silk lattice tighten. Moira's spider legs sprang into motion, passing up more coils of sticky threads, his host wrapping them around his length so quickly that her fingers became a blur. When she pulled them away, his member was completely cocooned in the silvery threads from its base to its tip, so tight that he could make out every contour of his shaft through the thin layer. She gripped it in her fist, starting to stroke, Freddy lurching again as the unexpected sensation surprised him. It was so impossibly smooth, like she had wrapped his erection in the most luxuriant satin. Where the droplets of fluid that clung to the fibers that bound him were sticky like glue, these were slippery, creating a slick layer on the inside of the cocoon.

"Soft and slippery, aren't they?" Moira cooed as she noticed his expression. "I can produce several kinds of silk, you know. Some are good for holding my dinner in place, while others make excellent threads for sewing. These are a little different."

She started to pump her hand in earnest, stroking him through the webbing, its slimy inner surface gliding against his skin. It seemed as thin as latex, doing nothing to dull the sensation of her slow massage, what felt like satin soaked in lubricant sliding up and down his aching length.

"Come for me, now," she purred in that intoxicating voice. "I want you to last long enough that I can really enjoy you when we move on to the main course."

It was a request that he couldn't have refused even if he had wanted to, her stroking finding a ruthless pace, her fist squeezing him tightly as she milked him through the slippery threads. Every time his cock pulsed or flexed, the cocoon fought against it, creating a wonderful sensation of tightness that took his breath away.

Each pump of her fist sent a throb of pleasure radiating through him, burning through his nerves like a fever. His member was beating like a heart in her grasp, the need for relief growing more urgent and more difficult to repress with each teasing motion of her hand. It soon became too much for him, his very breath seemingly tied to her cruel rhythm, his resolve crumbling.

He tried to double over as a ripple of ecstasy tightened the muscles in his abdomen, but the webbing that bound his hands prevented it, Moira watching him strain as his climax tore through him. The first rope of his seed pumped into the cocoon, inflating a small pocket of silk at its tip like a little balloon. The next groaning stab of pleasure was joined by another, the pocket swelling with each wad of his emission, Freddy filling it like the reservoir in a condom. Moira kept up her stroking all the while, wringing his ejaculate from him, eager to prolong his delicious suffering.

Not being able to move was frustrating, maddening, but it only made the warm waves of ecstasy that crashed over him all the more poignant. Gradually, the sharp, unfiltered sensations took on a more fuzzy and indistinct quality as euphoria settled over him like a heated blanket. He collapsed back onto the bed, his burning muscles relaxing, one final shiver of delight making him buck as Moira squeezed out the last of his emission. The reservoir at the tip of the silken cocoon was full now -- he could see the pearly fluid sloshing around inside it. Moira pulled the slimy threads off him with one quick motion of her hand, then tossed them aside like a discarded sock, leaving him clean save for the remnants of the slimy substance that had coated them.

"Feeling better?" she chuckled, the vibrations of her spider-like legs traveling up through the bedframe as she rose to her full height again. She drew closer until the abdomen that was concealed beneath her black gown was hovering over him, her human torso lifting towards the ceiling. "I think it's time that I showed you what I really am."

She reached for the button that held the jacket-like upper half of her dress together, popping it open, then spreading her lapels apart. Her already exposed breasts wobbled with the motion as she shrugged off the dark fabric, pulling her arms out of the clinging sleeves, letting the dark garment fall around her waist. Next came her ruffled bodice, Moira undoing what buttons remained, exposing more of her pale skin as she opened it up. It was still wet from the rain that had soaked through her clothes, making it shine in the moonlight, almost like she had been waxed. Freddy's eyes were drawn to her flat stomach, following two sculpted rows of subtle muscle that carved a dimple in her belly, tapering down towards her navel. What lay below was still hidden by the wide skirt of her dress, her milky skin stopping just short of her pubic mound.

Perhaps noting where he was looking, she smirked, then began to lift the long hem. Her bulbous spider abdomen was too large for her to slide it down any further, so she had to raise it over her head. He watched, mesmerized as she lifted her bosom along with it, a ripple spreading through her delicate fat as her boobs fell to clap against her torso. Her sheet of long, straight hair fell about her shoulders as she let the waterlogged garment fall to the carpet, reaching up to run her fingers through the jet-black strands.

Only now did Freddy's gaze wander lower, and what he saw at first confused, then shocked him. Like a mythical centaur, where her narrow waist began to flare out into her inviting hips, her lily-white skin gave way to chitinous plates the same onyx shade as her hair. At first, it looked like she was being eaten by a giant spider, but he quickly realized that it was an extension of her body. Below her human waist was an almost fully-formed arachnid, with eight segmented legs attached to a kind of armored thorax, along with a swollen abdomen that protruded from behind it. Where the monstrous spider's head should have been, it instead tapered into her lithe, feminine form. Her human body stopped right where her mound should have been, leaving her paradoxically smooth where he would have expected her loins to be.

"As I said," she began, spreading her arms wide as though presenting herself to him. "I'm not all woman, but I'm enough to please you in more ways than you realize."

Freddy wasn't even sure if what he was seeing was real. Lingering arousal and tipsiness from the wine still clouded his judgment, the dark carapace that covered the lower half of her body blending into the shadows. It made her oddly indistinct, like a mirage. Still, he could sense her sheer mass as she loomed over him, those monstrous legs sending pangs of instinctive fear through him. He should have been terrified to the point of passing out, but he knew now that she had no intention of hurting him, and the feminine curves of her upper body still tugged at his primate brain in ways that were impossible to suppress. The way that those sumptuous breasts swayed gently every time she moved, the definition of her trim midriff, the perfect hourglass of her wide hips. Something about the place that her glistening, porcelain skin transitioned to carapace made him think of low-cut jeans and revealing lingerie, his lust-addled brain turning even that into a thing of attraction and mystery.

"How are we supposed to..." Freddy trailed off, glancing pointedly at her smooth mound.

"I guess you must have come around if that was your first thought," she replied with a sly chuckle. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that for the time being. Here, I have another way for you to make yourself useful."

In the dark bedroom, her upper body seemed to float over the bed towards him like a ghost, Moira cupping her breasts in her hands to stop them from swinging like pendulums as she lowered herself down towards him. When she released them, he felt their weight plop down on his chest, her hands reached up to cradle his cheeks. Her skin was pleasantly cool, still wet from the rain, her raven hair framing her smiling face as she poised there above him.

"I'm an old-fashioned woman," she whispered, stroking his burning cheek with an affection that sent a wonderful shiver crawling down his spine. "There's nothing quite like a good kiss to get me warmed up. Will you indulge me, Freddy?"

She leaned closer, and this time, he didn't turn his head away from her. Those dark lips met his, her embrace starting off gentle, almost reserved. It was hard to believe that these pillowy lips had been wrapped around his cock only minutes prior. Gradually, she became more aggressive, Freddy tasting the tip of her tongue as it brushed lightly against his own. There was more of that unexpected affection, as though she was expressing her desire for him with each teasing lick, the smell of her perfume and the tickle of her long hair making him swoon.

Her kiss soon became deeper, more passionate, a comely sigh escaping her as she leaned into him. Her satin flesh was coated in a slippery sheen of her warm saliva, Moira growing more brazen as she explored his inner cheeks, tickling the roof of his mouth. It was like she was pouring her desire for him -- her need -- into every agile stroke. It was no less practiced than her dexterous fingers, and she showed no less skill with her tongue than she did with her threads, Freddy allowing himself to lie back into the pillows as she worked her magic on him.

"Why, how rude of me," she muttered as she broke away to let him catch his breath. There was a beautiful flush in her cheeks now, her arousal painted on her face like rouge. "I forgot that you were still...indisposed."

One of those sharp, arachnid legs emerged from the gloom above him, Freddy following it with wary eyes as it moved towards the top of the bed. Using its pointed foot like a blade, Moira sliced open the webbing that was wrapped around his hand, the severed strands falling away. He flexed his fingers, watching as she did the same on the opposite side, releasing him from his bonds.

"Now, don't get too comfortable," she warned. "I have use of your hands, but only for a time. Perhaps it's my unconventional heritage talking, but I like to be able to set my own pace -- to control the flow of an encounter. You understand, I'm sure."

She took his hand and guided it to her chest, letting one of her breasts fill his palm, fat as soft as velvet engulfing his fingers up to the knuckle as he squeezed. It felt like he was shaping warm putty, her quivering flesh just as malleable beneath his digits, bulging between them when he applied pressure. And her skin -- good lord -- her skin was just as soft and as smooth as her luxuriant webbing. The dampness of the rainwater that still soaked her made her slick to the touch, the slippery, silky meat of her bosom sliding out of his grasp as he struggled to juggle her assets. He brought in his other arm, taking generous handfuls now, all reservations thrown to the wind. How he had admired her breasts, and now they were all his, Freddy struggling to contain his excitement as he indulged himself.

"That's it," Moira cooed, a shiver of pleasure rolling through her. "Take your fill of me. It's been so long since I've felt the touch of a man."

She leaned in again, locking him in another slow, probing kiss as he rolled her inviting flesh between his fingers. As her agile tongue entwined with his own, he found one of her nipples, firm and engorged with desire. Moira's measured pace faltered as he caught it between his fingers, giving it a gentle pinch, his partner's massive body quaking. Her long arachnid legs seemed to tremble, growing weak at their joints just as a normal woman's knees might weaken. For someone so aloof and commanding, she was remarkably receptive, his host breaking off her embrace to bury her face in the nape of his neck as he kneaded her yielding fat like fresh dough.

"You can be rough with me," she purred, her hot breath blowing on his ear. "Don't be scared to manhandle me a little -- there's nothing a human could do to harm me..."

Emboldened by her sultry plea, he grew more aggressive, Moira letting slip a breathy chuckle of delight as he probed deeper. Beneath flesh like memory foam was firmer, more sensitive breast tissue, Moira shuddering as he massaged it. Her hard, swollen nipples pressed into his palms, practically begging for his attention.

Cupping one of her breasts, he raised it higher, its wobbling meat spilling over his hand like he was trying to lift a mound of jello from below. Realizing what he was trying to do, Moira lifted herself higher, bringing her chest to eye level. That silky skin and cushiony fat felt even softer against his cheeks, Moira letting her breasts spill around his head as her warm cleavage engulfed him. She gave him no choice but to fill his lungs with that floral perfume, the natural, more carnal scent of her body chasing it.

Freddy took a moment to bask there, completely surrounded by heaving flesh, then he surfaced like a dolphin to see her gazing down at him. Struggling to get a grip as his fingers glided on her damp skin, he brought one of her nipples to his mouth, drawing it between his lips. Moira stiffened as he pursed them tightly, feeling the swollen protrusion on the flat of his tongue. A shuddering sigh let him know that she was enjoying the sensation as he began to circle it slowly, glad of an opportunity to get her back for her earlier teasing. He trapped it between his teeth and tongue gently, battering it with quick flurries of licks, sucking it deep into his mouth. He clawed at her inviting flesh all the while, its texture irresistible. Moira's breathing grew ragged as he switched to the other nipple, not wanting to neglect it, leaving her skin shining with his saliva.

"You're so greedy," she laughed, the motion making her breasts shake. "I like that eagerness in a man. I have a lot of lost time to make up for, after all."

She shivered again as he drew on her nipple, making a lazy, teasing lap around her areola with his tongue. Her slender fingers delved into his hair as she drew him close in encouragement, her arachnid limbs starting to tremble.

"Alright," she sighed, finally pulling away. Freddy watched her ample chest rise away from him, his focus returning to Moira's blushing face as she hovered over the bed. "I think I'm warmed up enough now, and it looks like you're ready to go again," she added with a pointed glance down at his renewed erection. "Give me your hands, darling. You won't be needing them..."

She was giving him a choice this time, her silver eyes watching him in the gloom, waiting for his compliance. Something about allowing himself to be bound voluntarily made his heart race, and Moira seemed to sense that in him, her lips curling into a smile as he presented his hands to her. She took them in hers, their fingers interlocking, trapping him in another bawdy kiss as she pressed them against the mattress.