Chapter 1

It was habit. This day of all days. Be awake. Be alert. Be prepared. Peter looked over at his alarm clock, wishing that the blinking 6:02 was in fact a bucket of ice water over his head. Today was war. Today was Uncle Ben's favorite holiday. Today was April Fool's Day. Peter needn't wake up for another hour and a half. That was when his alarm would sound.

Not that it would have been fair this year. Peter's spider-sense may have finally evened the score between him and his uncle. Sighing, unable to return to sleep, Peter stood up, slipped his feet into a pair of socks. His spider-sense opened up the moment he touched the door. He ducked, shoulders down, feet apart, ready to spring and ready to pounce. He turned with his door. Keeping out of the way as the banana creme pie flung into his empty room.

"Oh, Peter!" Aunt May laughed as she stepped in after the pie that had smeared across Albert Einstein's face. "I figured you'd need some cheering up, so I—Peter."

Peter was on the ground, holding his belly, laughing raucously. There was only one rule on April Fool's Day, don't ruin what Aunt May cooked.

"I never really did follow your boys' rules." She wore a wistful smile and a warm robe over her pajamas. "I had a feeling you'd wake up early. I made breakfast."

Peter collected himself and followed his aunt downstairs. It was early. He was still wearing his undershirt and boxers. The kitchen smelled wonderful. Aunt May never was one to take things too easy. If Doctor Bromwell's latest checkup hadn't been so good, Peter might have lectured her.

Big breakfast sausages, steaming porridge, strips upon strips of bacon, coffee biscuits still too hot to touch, freshly squeezed orange juice and diced strawberries cooked into pancakes. Aunt May sat cozily behind a cup of fresh coffee and topped her bowl of porridge with some high quality yogurt.

"This is so much," Peter sucked his burnt fingers as he waited for the biscuits to cool.

"I was thinking of him," Aunt May wore a sad little smile, "I used to love how he'd con you out of the last sausage by letting you off on some chore he had already got to himself."

"Yeah," Peter was piling high his plate. There was so much, even had Ben been there that morning, some of it would be tomorrow's breakfast. "I use to love how he'd find some way to get you to fuss after we'd all sit down, just so he could ask you to get something for him."

The pair shared a little laugh at Ben's famous acts of heartwarming gluttony. Peter crumbled his bacon into the porridge and forked a sausage into his mouth with his other hand. May always wondered how he managed to multitask so well at the table.

They sat at the table for nearly an hour, recollecting Ben's greatest pranks. Peter imagined he was ballooning like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The Gene Wilder one of course, Peter's allusions were always slightly dated. There was a sharp knock on the door.

"That's the papergirl," Aunt May was about to get up and then smiled, "Peter, be a dear and fetch the paper, please." She pulled her chair in closer to the table.

Aunt May was not the best at hiding her mischief and Peter couldn't help but crack a smile as he walked. Peter pushed his hand on the front door. His spider-sense humming. He wouldn't ruin both of Aunt May's pranks. He stepped forward pushing open the door, feeling invincible. The bucket of warm water crashed down. Mary Jane Watson shrieked in surprise, her finger hovering above the door bell.

"MJ!" Peter's eyes exploded in surprise. His undershirt was a little wet from the splashback but MJ's t-shirt was clinging to her body and causing her cold crinkled nipples to push through her shirt. Peter quickly looked up to her face. She seemed caught between disbelief and anger. "Uh, April Fool's."

She was hit in the back of the head with the latest Daily Bugle. The twelve year old girl on the bike yelled a "Good morning!" and readied her next projectile for Anna Watson's door.

"Oh, Mary Jane, good morning," Aunt May had scurried over at Peter's cry. Peter had picked up the newspaper and was trying not to whistle like he was conspicuously innocent. Aunt May gave a warm grin and an "April Fool's!" to the redheaded neighbor and marched her to the kitchen table. May seemed to already have a large bath towel for the girl to clean up.

"Would you like some breakfast? There's plenty." Aunt May fussed about grabbing another plate and heaped a plate for their unexpected guest.

"I already ate," MJ replied, looking ravenously at the stack of food. She had been put on a pretty strict diet since working for Ms Vaughn-pope. It was a healthy enough diet to maintain her figure and her energy. Mary Jane always felt like she was just starting to be hungry.

"Oh, well at least have a biscuit and glass of juice," Aunt May shuffled around and set the biscuit on a saucer, it still steamed when she broke it open. MJ could not protest as the smell tickled her nostrils.

"I'll take the biscuit but just water please." The redhead rallied as Peter sat back down opposite of her and audibly enjoyed another sausage.

"What brings you over so early?" Peter managed to ask after Aunt May finished her zipping about. The elder woman was putting leftovers into tupperware and humming to herself. Her single mindedness gave the teenagers a convincing illusion of privacy.

"Oh my God!" MJ said in recollection of her early morning excitement. Or the biscuit was just that good. "We got the billboard! The one for Parfum D'Ete![1]"

"That's amazing!" Peter lit up, he had gotten an apprenticeship at Kingsley's firm. MJ had greased the wheels and his pics of Norman Osborn's death had clinched the deal. The photographer had sloughed through Peter's folder pretty quickly with some horrible things to say. Of course, claiming most of his Spidey pics looked as if he had left his camera auto shooting on a window ledge, was not too far from the actual case.

"We can see it on the way to school! I was coming to get you. I'm pretty sure its your shot. Because its the one of me in the green, but I can't see the small print from the ground." The implication was clear. MJ knew Peter was the Spectacular Spider-man. So far things had been pretty good about it. There hadn't been a supervillain attack since Scorpion two weeks ago. He had webbed up several street thugs and that had only served to rev her up. Not that either of them had pushed each other passed some light flirting. MJ knew Peter was in love with Gwen. Peter barely knew which way was up around MJ. Right now, she wanted Peter to web up and swing her passed the new thirty foot MJ downtown to see if she could see Peter's name in the corner of her portrait.

"Well, I don't see how Peter can help with that," May confirmed the privacy was an illusion, "But he definitely has to see the billboard. Go up and get ready for school. You need a shower. I'll keep MJ company until its time to go."

"Thanks for breakfast and for everything aunt May," Peter warmly clasped his aunt about her shoulders and kissed her head before rushing upstairs. May's giggle and MJ's smile followed him from the kitchen.

"I saw the advertisement!" "Looking good MJ!" "Is that the poster girl?" MJ and Peter arrived at school ten minutes before the bell. She had become something of an instant celebrity. Not that such a beautiful girl has ever gone unnoticed in the high school, but with her face three stories high in the middle of New York she received a bit more attention. The quick swing-by Spider-man had made had only revealed that the photo had been supervised by Vaughn-Pope and sponsored by Kingsley Inc. Peter had the suspicion it was his work but he had not been the only photographer shooting that day. Still, MJ looked good with her hair caught in what was supposed to be a fragrant summer breeze. The soft pout of her lips, the ghostly shadow on her eyes. It was the understatement of the year to say that Mary Jane Watson looked desirable. She arrived at Midtown High on Peter's arm.

There was a crowd gathering around Peter and MJ. Liz watched on from afar. It had been two weeks since she had confronted Peter and she was showing a visibly brighter smile. She hung back from the crowd of parasites and well wishers that had swarmed MJ. Sally appeared beside her. For the first time this year she was willing to risk the summery version of her cheer outfit.

"Can you believe these vultures?" Sally sneered her nasal scorn.

"I don't know, Sal." Liz appeared calm, "It's not like an M3 girl gets her face completely retouched, remade and restructured by an army of nerds."

"Rowr!" Laughed Sally, "I missed you Lizzie."

The pair shared a conspiratorial smirk and headed into class.

"What's the matter, girlfriend?" MJ had struggled through the expected attention all morning but one face had been conspicuously absent. MJ found Glory Grant in the cafeteria moping silently over her bag lunch.

"Oh, hey MJ. Anything new or exciting?" Glory murmured. MJ laughed, startled at how happy this made her.

"Nothing major, what's eating you?" MJ reached across the table and claimed her friend's hand.

"It's Hobie. He hasn't been to class all week. He hasn't really been himself since the youth center got supervillained. He took things pretty hard." Glory was truly worried. King Kong sat down next to her and laid his arm over his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Yeah and he hasn't been hanging around with anyone after class." Kenny explained before inhaling the first of his three hot dogs.

"What has Mindy[2] said about it?" MJ pressed.

"Hasn't seen him since the Jack incident. I think she's more ticked than worried." Glory confirmed.

"So we're going to see Hobie after school?" MJ gave her most reassuring smile. It was dazzling.

"Absolutely," Flash appeared at the table. His physical therapy was going well. He no longer relied on his cane but he still had it with him. His confirmation attached Sha Shan, Randy, Sally, Liz and Harry to their mission.

"You guys, I--"

"We've always looked after our friends here," Kenny announced. "Besides, if we catch Mrs Brown around supper time I can finally lose this trim and girlish figure."

The smile across Glory's face said it all. She had great friends.

"Ms. Whitman," Doctor Warren called without volume or urgency, "Bring me sample SM-03."

The lab was unduly quiet while Dr. Warren was concentrating. Debra was the soul or efficiency and discretion. Inwardly, she looked forward to the interns arriving. She appreciated the run of the lab without them, however Dr. Warren was so much more animated with those high schoolers. She had taken the position because of Warren's reputation. That reputation had come with one caveat. Dr. Miles Warren, professor and senior fellow at Empire State University, loathed teaching. It was surprising he came to a university at all. The corporate sector was much more lucrative. His defining benefit was the freedom a good tenure allowed. Debra had learned, to her joy, that it was poor students Warren despised. Still, what Debra had learned since coming to ESU was that there was something he saw in Peter and Gwen. It was something he didn't see in her.

Sample SM-03 was a short ampule that held nearly 13 ml of blood. Debra carried the blue stoppered vial from the refrigeration unit to the lab station where Dr. Warren was working.

"Thank you," Dr. Warren kept a professional cordiality that was thin to the point of transparency. "Prepare another batch of gene cleanser."

Debra set off without hint of complaint to her assigned task. It was a quarter to five and without fail Gwen was coming in through the door. It was a rare occasion; Peter was on time as well.

"Hello Debra. Good afternoon Dr. Warren." Gwen arrived cordially and went straight to her cubby.

"Hey Deb. Doc Warren." Peter was as casual as ever. "What are we working on today?"

"I am checking the effects of Conners' gene cleanser against unwanted natural mutations," Warren explained as he added a drop of sample SM-03 to a glass slide.

"Does this mean you hope it can cure things like diabetes or Parkinson's disease?" Gwen asked wide-eyed.

"No," Warren turned an affectionate smile towards his female intern. "Those mutations are quite human. No, I'm looking more at mutations caused by toxins, venoms or infections."

"So you're looking to see if the damaged DNA retains its damage or reverts to its healthy form?" Peter asked. He and Gwen were mechanically pulling on rubber aprons and gloves. The prep work and cleaning had become habit forming by now that they need not turn off their enthusiasm for the work while they prepared and often while they worked.

"Very good, Mr Parker," Dr Warren turned from Gwen to his microscope. "There may very well be hope for the future." The snide mark was actually high praise from Dr Warren. His contempt for most students and persons was well known. "Debra, can you take our two interns and make sure our animal cages are properly cleaned. These next few steps are delicate and critical."

Debra nodded without a word and turned. Peter and Gwen followed with a shared grin. They still knew that Dr Martha had warned them of Dr Warren, but it was hard not to get excited by being this close to genius.

"Hello Mrs. Brown, we're looking for Hobie," Glory led the group. Flash, Harry, MJ, Sha Shan and Kenny winged out to her sides.

"He hasn't come back from school yet," Hobie's mother replied. "He doesn't always take the most direct route home."

The five teens shared uneasy looks. Normally, any of them would have instantly and immediately covered for their friend. Hobie had been missing for a week. It was hard to help a friend who was nowhere to be found.

Harry turned to leave, firmly believing that the best way to help Hobie was to help Hobie. Flash had similar theories but was reluctant to walk away after doing nothing. Sha Shan felt a bit like an outsider, Hobie hadn't been in her circle of friends before she had begun dating Flash. Glory was struck silent, confused. Speaking up or walking away were both acts of friendship. One look at his girlfriend's face kickstarted Kenny Kong.

"We came, Mrs. B, because we haven't seen Hobie in almost a week." Kenny was never the most eloquent of men but, when he was sincere, he was a powerful speaker.

"Not Hobie," said Mrs. Brown in disbelief, "There's never a problem with that boy. Good grades, pretty girls, football and all the rest. He doesn't cut classes."

"It's true. Ever since the Center got trashed he hasn't been himself," Glory pleaded.

"I suppose he has been at that. Hobie's lucky with his friends too." Mrs. Brown forced a smile for the visiting teens. "I'll talk to him when he gets back tonight. Mark my words, Hobie's not going to miss any more school."

"Thank you," Kenny said for the group. He wrapped his arm around Glory's waist. "Tell him his friends care."

"I'll make sure he knows."

"Hey Carlos," the thug scratched his barely growing beard from atop an oil drum, "This seems a little light."

The kid, barely a teenager, shuffled in his untied sneakers. "I still got the product. It just isn't selling. Everyone scattered when Spidey swung on by."

"I made an investment in you, Carlos," the thug waved to the four toughs that walled in the alleyway, "I expect my investments to make good."

"I'll sell the rest, boss," Carlos pleaded, "Just give me the weekend."

"You got to buy more time, kid. And it ain't goin' to be cheap." The thug stood up with a smile. He wiped his hands roughly on the lap of his jeans. Carlos stepped backwards; his shoulders found a big goon's abs.

"Boss, I-I-I'll--"

"You'll walk away kid." The voice came from overhead and it was laced with rancor. The toughs looked up to see the masked silhouette dropping down.

"It's Spid--" panicked the first soldier before an armored fist swung into his throat. Sputtering and pouring tears, he hit the ground only a heartbeat before the second grunt slammed into the brick wall and collapsed. The last two soldiers came at their attacker from both sides. The scrape of steel on steel shrieked painfully in Carlos's ears. He would have been running but the boss had pushed him down. Carlos pulled himself up as the shadow took out a third man. The fourth was running, a solid axe kick collided with the the top of his skull. Four moaning bad guys twitched in the alley. The shadow raced after the boss. Carlos ran out the other side of the alley and the chain link fence wasn't going to stop him.

"Lee, get down to the hospital and interview those punks. Foswell! What're you doing on your keister? Ms Brant! Call Peter and get him out there. Spider-man is gone berserk and the people need pictures!"

"Peter doesn't work here anymore, Mr. Jameson," Betty Brant informed her employer for the thirteenth shift in a row. His snarls were getting less and less repeatable. Betty watched her lover dash out to catch the elevator.

"Well who do we got to get our photos?" Robbie asked Betty. He was flipping through a manilla envelope. A police report from a contact he wasn't sharing.

"Nobody else has been able to get Spider-man pics," Betty replied, always more intimidated by Robbie's disappointment than by Jameson's conniptions.

"I'm not convinced we need a Spider-man photographer," Robbie flipped backwards a page, "He hasn't used knives or claws before. Find someone who's been good with gang crime."

"No Spider-man!" Jameson erupted, "Wall crawling masked vigilante takes down a bunch of street kids with fisticuffs and violence. No way this isn't Spider-mask! Quick get me Peter's old pics, the ones we haven't posted yet. I know a Spider-man beating when I see one. I've got the perfect headline too."

Jameson's door slammed like shut was a four letter word. Betty turned to Robbie.

"Better do it, Betty." Robbie sighed. Something wasn't sitting right with the newspaperman. "I'll sign off on a check for Peter."

"Spider-Mask on The Prowl!" Peter ground his teeth as he read the paper at lunch. A few other students had papers themselves. Flash, because it had a picture of Spider-man on the front, a couple of the kids on the debate team and Hobie. Hobie was in class. He had managed to divest himself of Glory and Mindy and was taking some time to himself on the east side of the cafeteria. MJ sent him a warm smile and then sat down beside Peter.

"What's this one about? I thought you stopped taking pictures of Spider-man." MJ's eyes went straight to the byline.

"I did, you see that tree?"

"No?"

"Top left corner, out of focus."

"That big orange blob ... This was taken last fall." MJ's eyes widened.

"There you go." Peter returned to the argument, he refused to take it as an unbiased piece of journalism. "Apparently for the last four nights, someone, has been beating up drug dealers and pimps and burglars. And, of course, Jolly Jonah blames it on the webhead."

"Well Spider-man does kind of do that." MJ countered. It was difficult for her. Talking to Peter about Spider-man as if she wasn't talking to Spider-man.

"Spidey has a bit more flair and doesn't hit people any more than it takes to tie them up." Peter rebutted, "Plus he does web them up. These were just left beaten up in alleyways and warehouses. Someone new is out on the scene."

"Thank you!" Flash erupted as he walked by Peter. "See Spidey's not out there like a loose cannon." The quarterback made a few quick air jabs, celebrating his favorite hero. His girlfriend cocked her eyebrow and he settled down. "Besides you can't trust The Bugle. They already blamed Venom on Spider-man. He's probably just back. Spider-man will get him."

"Venom?" Peter hadn't even considered Venom. Eddie was still in Ravencroft. Or he had been last week. Dammit! Peter had to keep a closer eye on his bro.

"Yeah, Ven-" Flash looked down and realized he was agreeing and debating with Peter. All eyes were on him. Peter sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Flash knocked Peter's tray and spilled the french fries across the table. "Wait! Sha Shan!" Flash was gone in his namesake after his girlfriend had pulled her binder across her chest and marched out of the cafeteria.

"Some things just don't change." MJ smiled. Peter was slumped, picking up his littered lunch. Peter was still Peter. No matter how Spider-man he was.

"Well?" Jameson demanded as his best young reporter smugly marched into his office.

Ned Lee laid out the reports he had picked up from the medical examiner, presiding judge, and city forensics divisions. "The guy who took down these punks was using armor made like Jack O'Lantern's. With Jack's esc--"

"It's not Jack. City would be on fire if he was at work again," Robbie admonished quickly.

"No not Jack, but a copycat. The materials and metal slivers found in the victims and at the crime scene suggest this stuff was hobbled together out of scrap and--"

"I knew it!" Jameson interjected. The gleam in his eyes was electric and angry. "That no good wall crawler's been picking up trophies from his fights. Building some sort of Iron Spider armor. And now that he's equipped properly, he's getting away with murder. Spidey's going down for this."

"Technically the attacker didn't kill any of the gang members he--"

"Not for lack of trying Ned," Robbie interrupted, not happy with the way either of his colleagues was acting. "And we do know that Spider-man killed Norman Osborn. But we don't know that this vigilante is Spider-man."

"Oh we know," Jameson snarled, "A good reporter trusts his gut. And my gut is telling me that Spider-man has a taste for blood now."

"A great reporter trusts the facts," Robbie reprimanded, "And the facts don't say this is Spider-man."

"No they don't," Agreed Ned, "But they will lead me to him."

"I'd expect so," Robbie agreed, "Get back out on the street. Get what you need. What you have will be typed in time for tomorrow's presses."

"Yes it will, boss," Ned Lee broadened his smile.

"Then what're you waiting for you smirking little nitwit. Go, go, go!" Jameson rose out of his seat as his voice chased Ned out of his office.

Ned rushed for the elevator but was scooped up by Betty Brant. The brunette was walking with authority and managed to march Ned to the supply closet without issue. She shut the door behind herself with a low heeled shoe. "I shouldn't have to drag you into a supply closet to get a word in."

"No, but you can drag me into the supply closet whenever you get the urge, babe," Ned wore a smarmy smile and leaned in. Betty yielded a quick kiss before leaning back against the door.

"Are you OK, Ned? You seem, I don't want to say obsessed..." Betty looked for Ned's eyes and saw pure interest in her. Goblin and Spider-man and Jack O'lantern were all gone, at least for the moment. She took a deep breath and smiled.

"You don't need the word obsessed," Ned reassured Betty. Snatching another quick kiss, "But I am a newsman and I am going to do my best to get the story."

"Of course," Betty smiled. Ned was closing the distance between them and she had to kiss him for a few moments to get her last words in, "I just get worried."

"And I appreciate that you care," Ned said, nibbling his way across her jaw. "It makes me think smart when I'm on the job."

Oh my God! Betty couldn't articulate. Ned was insistent and his charm was working. Betty could feel her toes curling in her shoes and all Ned had done was touch her lightly and kiss her strongly. He wouldn't stop. Betty didn't even want to bring up that this was a terrible place for a tryst. The panicked thought was held off by six tough looking dark thoughts that told her she needed Ned right now.

He quickly rushed her sky blue t-shirt up and over her breasts. She felt herself being lifted against the wall. Her legs spreading around Ned's waist as she pulled him by his hair into her chest. He was a hunting lion. Ned went for the throat. Betty vibrated. This was her little weakness. Her fingers tugged at the neckline of Ned's blazer. He continued his assault, his domination of the little nerves that melted any resolve, any sense, any resistance.

Ka-lunk, the closet door rattled in its and seat and Betty had enough sense to beg off Ned's affection. Her cheeks were flushed red in embarrassment, fear and arousal. "The other wall, so we don't alert the whole office to--" She gestured between themselves and punctuated her description with a nervous little giggle.

"Of course," Ned didn't let Betty touch the floor. Her legs gripped around his hips tightly as he turned and carried her to the nearby window. Anywhere else in the closet and the metal shelves would raise a larger racket than the door. "Good babe?"

"Not yet," Betty drew out a mischievous grin and ground crotch against Neds. She tugged at Ned's coat and he slumped his shoulders and shook the blazer down off his wrists.

"Oof!" Grunted Betty as she started slipping down. Her first instinct was to cover her mouth and hide her noise but that just led to her slipping further down the wall. Ned laughed quietly as he dropped his blazer on the nearest nob and grabbed Betty's ass with his left hand. He squeezed as she claw climbed up his torso. They both wore smiles over snickers before they kissed with renewed passion and urgency.

The awkwardness was gone. The pair had intentions and they were driving themselves to satisfaction. Betty's fingers tousled Ned's hair or picked at the hem of his shirt. Ned had snapped open the back of Betty's bra, leaving the dark cups dangling over half covered breasts. His other hand hiked her skirt the last several inches above her hips.

They kissed. Tongues darted and dueled with sloppy with passion. Ned grabbed Betty around her choker as he used his left hand to infuriate her clit. Betty's gasped were squeezed off, an eerie sexual silence washed away by her heart hammering through her ribs. She bit Ned by the ear as she finally managed to pull his shirt from his trousers. She could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into the flesh of her thigh. She felt teeth climb down her jugular, her shirt scrunched above her breasts. She loved the feeling of teeth grazing her collarbone but she demanded Ned's cock to be pressed inside her. Her back arched as she rolled up higher on the wall. The cracked window tossed her hair in an angry twenty second story breeze. Her breasts were face to face with Ned. Red-blooded and in need, Ned snapped aside the unfetter bra and clasped one glorious breast in his right hand while his mouth worried the other nipple. Betty gasped.

"Ned," Betty's voice was a whisper and a hiss, "Fuck me."

Ned couldn't deny the demands of such a beautiful woman. He yanked aside black panties and thrust forward, pressing his jeans into the soaking core of Betty. Furious with himself, embarrassed, but more than that, impatient. Betty slipped down the wall as Ned let her go to unbutton his pants. She tried to pull herself up by his shoulders, her arms in a death lock around his neck and the back of his head. She pulled herself up only a little and when she dropped back down she was impaled.

"God!" Squeaked Betty, her face red with a need to stay undiscovered, stay silent. Her hips rolled begging and stealing every inch of pleasure from Ned's sex. Ned was not passive. He was thunderous, determined, and ravenous in his need of her. He was using every bit of muscle he could. Uncaring if the wall broke behind Betty. His face was still buried between her breasts. His hands squeezed tightly on her ass as he pounded deep inside of her. His eyes were squeezed tight, trying to amplify the senses of touch, smell and pain as he lost himself in the perfect twenty year old body.

"Ned, Ned, Ned," Betty whimpered, the inside of her cheek screaming from the force she was biting herself with. Her skin was incandescent, turning red and slick with sweat as she choked back every breath that threatened to be a scream. Her hips rolled and she drew her lover as deeply in as she could every time. She was amazed with herself, amazed with her pleasure. She had never been one to seek out rough sex. Always dreaming of love and gentleness and intimacy. She had enjoyed powerful lovers before but always out of control. Now she was forcing Ned as much as he was forcing her and she felt incredible. She whispered his name another time and he moaned into her chest.

"Betty, fucking Betty," Ned was seething against the brunette and every particle of himself was making it's way to merge with hers. She felt his need, his affection and she erupted from it. Her cheek wasn't enough, now Betty was biting her tongue. Any harder and she could be tasting blood. Her arms locked tighter around Ned's head. She was coming, unlike any orgasm she had ever shared before. Her ankles locked and chafed together. She arched off the wall, fitting herself against the chest of Ned. Her eyes were shut, locked, tears of effort forming in the corners. Breath's were like fire and she had never come for as long before. Sweat stung in her eyes. She was lathered, unkempt, practically destroyed.

Chapter 2 »