There was no mistaking that sexy Russian accent.
"Oh, I can always make time for you, Natasha," Peter said, as she nibbled on his earlobe.
"Marvelous," the Black Widow purred, as he spun his chair around. She was wearing her costume, a skintight black catsuit, slightly unzipped to show off a generous amount of cleavage. Pete stood up and took her in his arms, kissing her passionately, then reaching
for the catsuit's zipper and pulling it all the way down. He began nuzzling and kissing the creamy white flesh thus exposed, making Natasha moan with delight, even as they worked together to pull the suit down to her waist.
Peter raised his head, kissing her once more while his hands gently kneaded her ample breasts, while her hands went for his belt. She pushed him back onto the chair and pulled his pants down, then got to her knees. It was Peter's turn to moan as she bent forward
and took him into her mouth. Her flame-haired head bobbed up and down in his lap, as her luscious lips and talented tongue drove him to the brink of orgasm...and over it.
As he began firing his seed, Natasha began swallowing it, allowing not one drop to escape her. As she bent forward to collect the last few drops, a huge smile on her face, Peter realized something shocking. His feelings for Natasha were more than mere lust.
Sure, it was a big part, but it was mixed with genuine, romantic love. And as he realized this, he became aware of a second-set of memories, memories of a life with Natasha, and his other concubines...
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