A SPIDER'S BUSY DAY PART SEVEN
DISCLAIMER: This story is sexual fiction. None of these characters are mine but are owned by Marvel. This is merely slash fiction for entertainment only and does not express the sexual orientation of the characters in the comics or other official media. This story features bareback interracial gay sex among fictional and consenting characters.
Sorry for the hiatus for those who may have tried to contact me but ghost hiatuses are part of my creative process. However, I will make an effort in the future to keep communication channels open so I can at least receive your mail (I really do love hearing what you guys think about my stories. The last set of comments was VERY interesting, to say the least).
Another day on the grind as a reporter for the Daily Bugle. It was a hard life being a (mostly) freelance news photographer. His boss, Jonah Jameson, was not a nice man, to put it bluntly. Peter often had to present a damn dissertation just to get even his most exciting shots of Spider-Man published. It was a job made harder by the public opinion of Spider-Man and other superheroes swinging way to the positive after having protected Earth from extraterrestrial threats in the not too distant past. That swing made it impossible for Jameson to spew his usual garbage about Spider-Man being an illegal vigilante who should be locked up for placing himself above the law.
That day, Peter had been sent on assignment with a team from the Daily Bugle to record a high level summit of the UN. It was his first time working in an official capacity for the Bugle; which also meant he would hopefully get much more than pennies and peanuts from miserly Jonah Jameson.
The UN building in NYC was more so much more impressive up close. As he passed under the entryway, he snapped a few photos for posterity and admired the architecture. He snapped pics of the crowd; some prostesting and others simply being curious New Yorkers, always abreast of events in their city. It baffled Peter as to why anyone would protest a UN summit. The UN was supposed to be helping the world and making it better. Not that he was naive of corruption but still...he snapped away regardless. The more photos he had, the more money he could squeeze from Jameson's tight pockets.
The building was huge on the outside, and even bigger on the inside. It was almost like entering a dwarf cavern in The Lord of the Pings, with its arched ceiling and glossy floors; freshly waxed no doubt. Everything looked crisp and clean in a corporate sort of way yet with the kind of reverence usually held for churches. He snapped and snapped. There were representatives and press from every corner of the globe. Of course, Peter was very interested in the African countries. He was fond of handsome black men, and there were plenty on that side in all sorts of bright and unusual clothing, in addition to the ones dressed in Western style suits.
"Hey!" the lady reporter from the Bugle barked, grabbing Peter by the shoulder. "Stop wasting your memory snapping every detail. The summit hasn't even begun yet, you amateur." The other members of the Bugle team laughed. Peter was less than amused. Once they had found their designated space and set themselves up, Peter decided to take a walk around the permitted areas, since they still had at least an hour to kill before the summit officially started.
Peter loved the architecture: the curves, arches, angles and lines were all so unique, reflecting the individuality of every nation represented there. Damn, he thought, he should have written that down. It was fucking poetic. His mind wandered back to the handsome African men. He absently groped his crotch and massaged his cock to a raging bulge in his jeans as he imagined sex with the younger of the strappingly handsome representives. He thought he was alone but as he turned the corner he slammed into someone.
"Oh, are you OK?" Peter asked as he stared into the face of a handsome black man. He was strappingly athletic, Peter could tell, even under his nicely tailored suit. His skin was a rich, deep dark-brown. His lips were full and perfect. Then he spoke.
"Yes, I am OK. Are you?" That African accent purred in Peter's eardrum like magic, and his cock jerked.
"Ah yeah, I'm fine. Thought I was alone up here."
"Me too. I came to get away from the bustle before the summit starts, to clear my mind. You are press?" the man asked, eyeing Peter's badge before his line of sight drifted lower and a smirk curled his lips.
"Yes, with the Daily Bugle," Peter replied, playing it cool, even as he observed the swell in the man's crotch. "A local New York paper."
"That's good. I do believe in strengthening local businesses. It's why my country has done fairly well despite our lack of resources. However, foreign injection can be exciting."
"Oh? I supposed that depends on how deep the penetration is. It might saturate the local market," Peter cheesed, standing right in front of the handsome African, eye-to-eye.
"Some markets need to be flooded. Desperately," the man grinned. Peter moaned softly as the man massaged his stiff bulge. "Whenever I am in America, I make sure I taste as much white meat as possible." That was all the inspiration Peter needed to shove the man against the wall and sink his tongue into his mouth. The man moaned, submitting to Peter's aggression and sucking on his tongue. Peter groped the round muscled buttocks beneath the suit.
"Not here," the handsome African noted. "Follow me."
Peter was led by the hand into the nearest restroom. The African locked the door as he shoved Peter into a stall, landing the photographer on his ass, right on the closed toilet.
"Fuck, you're hungry," Peter panted as his jeans was hurriedly opened and the man fished out his fat 10.5 inches of hard white cock.
"For a massive pole like this, you have no idea," the man grinned then wrapped his full dark lips around the fat pink head of Peter's cock.
"Oh fuck!" Peter moaned. "Ohhhh fuck yes!" He tensed as the hot African mouth worked up and down his pole, soaking his cock in spit that drooled down into his pubic bush. He gripped the edges of the bowl beneath him and jutted his hips upward, lancing his cock into the man's gullet. The handsome Afican barely gurked as he swallowed Peter's thick white cock to the root. Peter shuddered at the sight and sensation of the full black lips sealed around the base of his cock. The man's face was buried in his pubes, and his hot throat massaging Peter's erection. He grabbed a fistful of the kinky hair and yanked the man's head back.
"You're fucking amazing!"
"Then let me finish the job," the man insisted. Peter stood and, with both hands full of kinky hair, guided the thick black lips down to the base of his cock again. He held the man's head in both hands as he fucked back and forth through the welcoming gullet. Soft gurking echoed in the stall. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of the warm wet throat filled Peter's ears as thick saliva soaked his balls.
"Suck my nuts," Peter commanded as the black man obeyed. Peter cooed, his head back and eyes closed as he savored the balls-washing. His legs trembled from the pleasure. He yanked the man's head back by the hair even as the African continued licking along the belly of his big white cock. "You're a full service slut?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Show me."
The African stood and kicked off his trousers, underwear and shoes. He spread his legs over the bowl, leaning on the tank as he tucked his shirt and suit hem under his arms to expose his perfect ebony bubble butt.
"Fuck yeah!" Peter growled, enamored by the firm ass as he smacked it, and the muscular striation of the man's thighs and calves, and lower back. The African was perfectly muscled. Peter knelt and spread the cheeks, looking directly on the hairless ebony pucker. It winked as Peter swiped a spit-wet finger over it, and he knew he was going to enjoy fucking him. He pressed his face in between the cheeks and speared the asshole with his tongue.
"Oooooh fuck! YES!" the man moaned, pushing his ass back on Peter's face. Peter held the man by the thighs, holding him steady as he sucked, licked and feasted on the coal-black butt-hole; relishing its scent and flavor. He buried his nose between the round chocolate cakes and shoved his tongue as far up the African fuck-tunnel as possible. He moaned into the man's ass, feeling his legs shudder before deciding it the hole was primed and ready for fucking. Peter stood and drooled spit on the raging pink head of his cock as he kissed it to the eagerly winking ebony hole. He sunk inside.
"OH GOD! YES....FUUUUCK!" he barked.
How was this man's tunnel so silky-smooth, warm, wet and soft? It was like sinking his cock into the perfect mold that shaped itself to his dimensions then sucked and chewed his cock for his pleasure. He gripped the man by the shoulders and fucked slowly in and out. Forcing himself to move was the only way he was going to prevent the African fuck-hole from milking him in mere minutes. He growled as he looked down, watching his thick white cock--10.5 inches--gliding in and out of the ebony fuck-tunnel. His cock glistened with the hole's juices as the black anal ring stretched and pouted, unwilling to loosen its hungry grip. The Arican hole was eager for his cock and he obliged, shoving all the way in, to the rhythm of the man's moans. Peter closed his eyes and fucked in and out, back and forth; occasionally churning his cock round inside once he was nestled deep in the moist silky tunnel.
"Mr. Reporter...fuck my hole. Give me all that white meat," the man begged, pushing his ass back to meet Peter's inward motion. The sensation made Peter's cock throb and he fucked faster; opening his eyes and looking down on his huge white pole slamming in and out of the ebony man-cunt. His cock glistened. The hole was so wet that it slurped each time he shoved back inside; which only made his cock jerk like mad. The round buns jiggled a little with every thrust as he rammed his pelvis into the perfect cushions of black muscle.
"Yes! FUUUUCK YES! Sweet fucking hole!" Peter moaned, punching his cock in harder and faster. There was nothing quite like fucking a black man's ass, and Peter reveled in it. His low-hanging, white bull-balls smacked the African's taint with every thrust; and the deep, rhythmic, baritone moans of the man under him reverberated in his ears like the sweetest melody. Peter placed one hand on the man's waist, pulling him back by the hips as he took one last look down at his massive white cock violently stretching the sloppy black fuck- tunnel open, and that sent him over the edge.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH FUCK! URRRRRRGGGHHHHHHH!"
"Yes, Mr. Reporter! Breed my man-pussy! Fill my black man-cunt up! OH FUCK!"
Peter was blasting every last bit of pent-up load into the African's colon. It had been a week since he'd fucked Miles and his balls had ached from the sheer amount of cum built up in them. He abandoned all control as he forced his cock as deep as he could and unleashed waves of cum up that eager black African hole. From the pulsing of the tunnel and the tightened grip, he knew the black man was also cumming; grunting his orgasm.
"Mr. Reporter, you filled me right up," the man complimented. Peter merely leaned on the man's broad back; regaining his composure. In a moment of hot passion, he guided the man's lips to his once more and swapped spit while sliding his hands up under the man's shirts. He drummed his fingers over rippling abs and caught the large stiff nipples between thumb and forefinger; twisting and pinching both to make the man moan. He reached down and took hold of what had to be at least 9 inches of hard African cock. He stood up straight and slowly pulled his cock free. He spun the man around as he dropped to his knees. The big African log throbbed excitedly, drooling a string of remnant cum. Peter engulfed the length, taking the black cock into his throat then returning to the head to sample that sweet load as he squeezed from base to tip and drew out more of the tasty cream.
"You love sucking that big black cock, Mr. Reporter?" the man teased, gripping Peter by the hair and shoving his cock down his throat. Peter moaned as the African used his gullet for a few minutes, forcing Peter's nose into his curly pubic bush. Unfortunately, as good as it felt for both of them, the man told him they had to stop as the summit was soon to commence. With the restroom all to themselves, they made sure they looked presentable before returning to the main conference hall.
"Where you been, Parker?" the lady reporter squawked. "It's about to start."
"Yeah, yeah," Peter mumbled as he raised his camera. The chairman gave a brief introduction then announced the first speaker. Peter's eyes widened as the chairman gave the floor to T'Challa, the King of Wakanda. It was the same hot African man whom Peter had fucked in the restroom mere minutes earlier. He started snapping photos as a wicked grin curled his lips.
Thanks for reading my story. Drop a comment to my email address:
mahveriown@gmail.com
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