Spider-Man's on his patrols

Mary Jane stared away from the window, away from her past, as she cradled her coffee cup, warm in her lap. Looking at the table in front of her, she saw the Daily Bugle cover, featuring Spider-Man.

She missed Peter, she yearned for him, and, at that moment, she knew she needed something far stronger than coffee inside her.

MJ might have been a model, but she’d never been one for model behavior. She placed the coffee cup on top of the Daily Bugle, then peeled down her ripped designer jeans, pulled down her white thong and set to work, her mind racing with images from her past.

She thrust about on that couch, testing its upholstery, writhing and moaning, as her fingers alternately circled around and thrust inwards, hitting her jackpot over again and again. Her face was covered with sweat, her red hair matted.

It was amazing, it was sensational, and that’s when she looked up at the window and saw him hanging from the wall outside, those big white eyes of his staring down at her.