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Peter and MJ returned home in silence. The cabin was behind them, but its heat lingered in every glance they avoided.

Peter locked himself in the bathroom. He stared at his reflection, angry and ashamed. MJ had given herself completely to Nick—eager, calling him Master, even her asshole, something she never did for him —while he knelt and sucked Craig’s thick cock like it belonged there. The shame burned, but so did the memory of how hard he’d come. He couldn’t scrub it away. She swung away to fight crime and forget his pain.

In the bedroom, MJ sat on the edge of the bed, still tasting Nick on her tongue. She couldn’t believe it. She’d let Nick—ugly old rival of her husband’s—stretch her ass open, and before him she had been throughly fucked by his drug addled nephew. Two losers. And she had begged for it. Came harder than she had in years.

What a slut I became for them.

Guilt hit hard. She felt sorry—for Peter, for herself, for how easily she’d opened her legs and her mouth. Then the ache between her thighs returned. She pulled the thick dildo from the nightstand, one that almost matched Nick’s size. Lying back, she pushed it into her still-sensitive ass, gasping as it filled her. Her free hand worked her clit. Eyes closed, she saw Nick’s predatory smile, felt Craig’s presence in the room, and rode the dildo until she came, whispering their names into the empty house.

Elsewhere, Craig lounged on his couch, phone open to the video of Peter’s face coated in cum. He replayed the moment MJ took Nick’s cock in her ass, the way she begged.

He wanted her again—sooner, dirtier. And Peter… the way the hero had swallowed his cock without gagging, then came in his shorts, was pure gold. Craig smiled. Next time he wouldn’t just record. He’d make Parker clean MJ up afterward, or hold her open while Nick took her.

Humble the Spider. Keep the wife hungry. Easy enough. He already had ideas.

Nick also had plans, he would have fun with the redhead and now Peter couldn’t do anything to stop him