Sexy busty blonde Emma seduces you at the Halloween party in her sexy Spider-woman suit, change your name…
The bass thumped through the floorboards, a relentless heartbeat beneath the chaos of laughter, shouted conversations, and the sugary-sweet smell of cheap punch gone warm.
Emma navigated the packed living room, her Spider-Woman suit clinging like a second skin, every curve on blatant display. She felt powerful in it, invincible.
Her blonde hair was swept up, revealing the elegant line of her neck, currently drawing the gaze of a guy dressed as a lumberjack. She flashed him a dazzling, dismissive smile and kept moving.
Her target wasn’t here.
She spotted him near the overflowing snack table, looking adorably out of place. $name1. Tall, broad-shouldered in his slightly-too-tight vampire costume – black satin shirt open at the collar, fake fangs glinting when he nervously sipped his beer. His dark hair was messy, falling into his eyes in a way that made Emma want to push it back. He was talking to Mike, gesturing awkwardly, probably explaining his costume again. Shy $name1. So handsome it almost hurt. And tonight, hers.
She slithered through the crowd, ignoring the appreciative stares, the drunken wolf-whistles. Her focus was absolute. She sidled up beside him, letting her arm brush his. He jumped, spilling a little beer on his hand.
“Whoa! Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his hand on his pants.
“Don’t be,” Emma purred, turning fully towards him. Her eyes locked onto his, holding him captive. “That suit looks… thirsty.” She let her gaze travel slowly down his body, lingering pointedly on the straining fabric over his chest, then lower. “Real thirsty.”
$name1 flushed crimson, visible even in the dim, pulsing light. “Uh, thanks? Yours too. Spider-Woman, right? Badass.” He gestured vaguely at her suit.
“Badass is the goal,” Emma grinned, stepping closer. The heat radiating off him was intense.
She could smell the faint scent of his soap beneath the beer and party smells. “But you know what vampires really crave?” She leaned in, her lips almost brushing his ear. Her voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur that vibrated through him. “Something warm. Something… pulsing.”
$name1 swallowed hard. His knuckles were white around his plastic cup. “Emma…”
She didn’t let him finish. Her hand landed lightly on his chest, right over his hammering heart. “Feels like yours is racing. Nervous?” Her thumb traced a slow circle through the thin satin. She felt the muscle tense beneath her touch.
“A little,” he admitted, his voice rough. “You’re… intense tonight.”
“Good intense?” She tilted her head, her smile predatory now. Playful, but with an edge. “Or scary intense?”
“Both?” He managed a shaky laugh. “Definitely both.”
Emma laughed, the sound bright and infectious, cutting through the surrounding noise. “Perfect.” She glanced around, her eyes scanning the crowded room. Too many people. Too much noise. She needed privacy. Now. Her gaze landed on the hallway leading towards the back of the house. The spare room. Always unlocked, always ignored until someone needed to puke or fuck.
“Come with me,” she commanded, her voice losing none of its playful lilt but gaining undeniable authority. Her fingers curled slightly into his shirt fabric. Not a request.
“Where?” $name1 asked, bewildered, letting himself be pulled away from the snack table, away from Mike’s confused stare.
“Somewhere quieter,” Emma said, steering him deftly through the throng. Her hand slid down his arm, fingers intertwining with his. His palm was sweaty. Adorable. “Need to talk to you. Private talk.”
They reached the hallway, the din of the party muffling slightly. The spare room door was slightly ajar, revealing darkness beyond. Emma pushed it open wider, pulling $name1 inside. The room smelled faintly of dust and old laundry. A single bare bulb cast weak light on stacked boxes and a sagging futon covered by a faded quilt.
Emma released his hand and turned. The playful glint in her eyes hardened into something hotter, hungrier. Before $name1 could speak, ask a question, protest, she moved. Fast. One hand slammed against the wall beside his head. The other shot up, fingers wrapping firmly around his throat. Not choking, not yet, but holding. Possessing. Her body pressed flush against his, the slick material of her suit sliding against his satin shirt. She felt the solid wall of his chest, the rapid pulse hammering against her palm on his neck.
He froze, eyes wide, startled. A gasp escaped him.
Emma leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. Her breath was hot. “You look absolutely fucking delicious in that costume, $name1,” she whispered, her voice a low, dangerous thrum that vibrated straight down his spine. Her grip on his throat tightened just a fraction. Enough to feel the power, the control. “Mind if I take a bite?”
$name1’s breath hitched. Fear flickered in his eyes, quickly drowned out by something darker, hotter. Arousal, thick and undeniable. He could feel the heat pooling low in his belly, the sudden, insistent hardness pressing against the confines of his pants. Her dominance, the sheer unexpectedness of it, short-circuited his shyness. He felt pinned, claimed. And he fucking loved it.
“No,” he rasped, his voice strained by her grip. His hands, which had hung limply at his sides, lifted tentatively, hovering near her hips. “Don’t mind at all.”
Emma’s smile was pure sin. She released his throat, her hand sliding slowly down his chest, leaving a trail of fire. Her other hand remained braced against the wall, caging him. “Good boy.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then lower, to the unmistakable bulge tenting his vampire trousers. “Seems like something else is hungry too.”
She dropped to her knees in one fluid motion. The suddenness made $name1 gasp again. He looked down, watching her blonde head level with his groin, her eyes gleaming up at him in the dim light. Her hands went to his belt buckle. The metallic clink was obscenely loud in the quiet room. The rasp of the zipper followed. She didn’t hesitate. She yanked his pants and boxers down in one rough pull, freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and already leaking pre-cum, straining towards her.
“Fuck, Emma,” $name1 groaned, his head thumping back against the wall. He tangled one hand in her hair, not guiding, just holding on.
Emma didn’t tease. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, feeling the heat, the hard throb of his pulse against her palm. She leaned forward, her pink tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe from the base to the swollen, dripping tip. She savored the salty tang, the musky scent of him. Then, maintaining eye contact, she opened her mouth wide and took him in, deep, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth, practiced motion.
$name1 cried out, a strangled sound of pure pleasure. His hips jerked involuntarily. Her mouth was hot, wet, tight. Unbelievably tight. Her tongue worked relentlessly against the sensitive underside of his shaft as she pulled back slowly, sucking hard, hollowing her cheeks. Then plunged down again, taking him deep, her nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base. She set a brutal, demanding rhythm. Up, down. Sucking hard. Swirling her tongue around the head on every upward stroke. Using her hand to twist and pump the base her mouth couldn’t reach.
“Jesus Christ,” $name1 panted, his fingers tightening in her hair. His thighs trembled. “So fucking good… Emma… gonna…”
She felt his cock swell impossibly harder in her mouth, the tension coiling tight in his balls against her chin. She sucked harder, faster, bobbing her head with desperate urgency, wanting to taste him explode. Her free hand slid under the hem of her Spider-Woman suit, finding her own clit, swollen and slick. She rubbed hard, circular motions, matching the frantic pace of her mouth on his cock. The dual sensations – his hardness filling her mouth, the electric friction on her clit – sent sparks shooting up her spine.
$name1’s groan deepened into a guttural roar. “Fuck! FUCK! I’m coming!” His hips bucked violently, thrusting deeper into her throat as his orgasm ripped through him. Thick, hot pulses of cum shot down her throat, salty and bitter. Emma swallowed convulsively, milking him with her mouth and hand until he was shuddering, spent, gasping for air against the wall.
She pulled off slowly, licking her lips, a drop of cum glistening at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction and her own unmet need. “Tasty,” she breathed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood up, her legs slightly shaky. Her suit felt damp between her thighs.
$name1 was panting, his pants still around his ankles, his cock softening but still glistening wet. He stared at her, dazed, wrecked. “Holy shit,” he managed. “That was…”
Emma didn’t let him finish. She grabbed the front of his satin shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists, and spun him around, slamming his chest against the wall this time. The impact knocked the breath out of him. Before he could react, she was pressed against his back, her breasts mashed against his shoulder blades, one hand snaking around his waist, fingers diving ruthlessly under the waistband of his pants and boxers still tangled around his thighs. She found his balls, still tight and sensitive, and squeezed gently, possessively.
“Shy $name1,” she murmured against the back of his neck, nipping the skin lightly with her teeth. Her other hand slid down her own body, under the suit again, fingers sliding easily through her soaked folds. “You’re not done.” Her voice was thick with lust. “Turn the fuck around. I need you inside me. Now.”
The command, raw and urgent, shattered the last of $name1’s hesitation. He pushed himself off the wall, turning clumsily, his pants hobbling him. He kicked them off completely, stepping out of them. His eyes devoured her – the flushed skin, the swollen lips, the fierce hunger in her eyes. He reached for her, his hands rough now, grabbing her hips, pulling her hard against him. His half-hard cock pressed against her belly.
Emma met his gaze, a challenge burning in hers. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her Spider-Woman suit and peeled it down in one swift motion, revealing her bare breasts, full and tipped with hard, dusky nipples. She shoved the suit down past her hips, letting it pool around her ankles, leaving her gloriously naked except for her heels. She stepped out of it.
“Fuck me, $name1,” she demanded, her voice low and ragged. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his cock, already stiffening again under her touch. She guided him towards her, her other hand spreading her own slick folds. “Hard. Don’t hold back.”
$name1 needed no further encouragement. The shyness was incinerated, replaced by a primal need. He gripped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and lifted her effortlessly. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back. He pinned her against the wall, the cool plaster a shock against her heated skin. He fumbled for a second, his cockhead bumping against her thigh, then her stomach, slick with her wetness. Emma reached down, guiding him, her fingers slick as she positioned him at her entrance.
He thrust upward. Hard. No gentle slide. One brutal, deep plunge that buried him to the hilt inside her in one stroke.
Emma screamed, a sound of pure, sharp pleasure-pain. Her head slammed back against the wall. “YES! FUCK! Like that!”
$name1 groaned, the sensation of her tight, wet heat clamping down on him almost unbearable. He pulled back almost all the way, then slammed home again. And again. Setting a punishing, relentless rhythm. Each thrust drove her body up the wall, her breasts bouncing, her heels digging into his backside for leverage. The slap of skin against skin, his groans, her sharp cries, filled the small room, louder than the muffled party beyond the door.
Emma clawed at his shoulders, his back, raking her nails down his satin shirt. “Harder! Fucking harder, $name1! Use me!” She met every thrust, grinding her clit against the base of his cock with each deep penetration. The friction was exquisite, brutal. She could feel her own orgasm coiling, tighter and tighter, a live wire about to snap.
$name1 was lost in the rhythm, in the feel of her, the sounds she made. He fucked her with abandon, his hips pistoning, sweat slicking his brow, dripping onto her chest. He leaned forward, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, biting gently. Emma cried out, arching into his mouth.
“Gonna come,” $name1 gasped against her breast, his thrusts becoming erratic, deeper, harder. “Fuck, Emma… gonna fill you up…”
“Yes!” Emma shrieked, feeling the pressure inside her shatter. Her body clamped down on his cock in violent, rhythmic pulses as her orgasm exploded. White light flashed behind her eyelids. “Come in me! Fucking come!”
$name1 roared, his body locking rigid. He drove into her one last, deep time, burying himself as deep as he could go, and erupted. Hot jets of cum pulsed deep inside her, mixing with her own release. He held her pinned against the wall, shuddering, gasping, as the waves of pleasure washed over them both.
They stayed like that for long moments, panting, slick with sweat, $name1 still buried inside her, her legs trembling around his waist. The frantic energy slowly ebbed, replaced by a heavy, sated exhaustion. The distant thump of the party bass was the only sound.
$name1 carefully lowered her legs, letting her slide down his body until her feet touched the dusty floor. He pulled out slowly, a groan escaping him at the sensation. Emma leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, watching him. He looked wrecked. Beautifully wrecked. His vampire costume was rumpled, his hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes dazed but holding a new, simmering heat.
He bent down, picking up her discarded Spider-Woman suit. He held it out to her, his gaze traveling slowly over her naked body, lingering on the mess between her thighs.
A slow, satisfied smile touched his lips. “So,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Was that bite enough? Or…” He stepped closer, his hand brushing her hip, his eyes locking onto hers with newfound confidence. “…you still hungry?”