Sticking it to Mrs.Dust

By Laz Dust

>You blink back to life and you've got all the injuries
>Holy shit, what happened? You blacked out from something - an orgy of violence somewhere, somehow
>It's left you with pains you didn't even know could exist, but strangely, you're not in the gutter
>No, in fact, you're in something a little more pleasant, resting on something soft, a gentle warmth washing over you
>Your injuries are bandaged and your leg is held with a makeshift split, blood and muck cleaned off your head
>The charming, muffled tones of jazzy tunes whispers in the background and the delicate aroma of perfume tickles your nostrils
>You're in a room? No, more like a bedroom
>What the hell? How'd you get here? Where were you?
>You try to move but most of your body screams back with a pained "NO" - guess you're staying put
>Then, audible clicking catches your ears. The door clicks open and a silhouette steps through
>Considering just how fucking dangerous Pentagram City is, you reach for a non-existent gun, certain it's another assailant
>Well, if it is, she's a damn looker
>Sauntering into view is a woman no too dissimilar from an arachnid, a lithe yet buxom creature with cream, white fluff adorning her body
>She bears the dimensions of an hourglass, a river of alabaster hair rolling down her shoulders, accented by violent pinks eyes and four, delicate arms
>Her form is hugged by a dress, and when you mean form, you mean GODDAMN!, this woman is busty
>Her hips toss with gentle sways but her fluffy, pillowy bust really catches your blackened eye, plump sacs you're pretty sure are the size of your head
>Uhhhh
>Her vision casts over you, and a sneer stretches her features
>"Ah? Waking up finally, little fly? Goodness, thought you'd be out all day."
>She wears an accent that's quite familiar, though it's dressed up with proper inflections
>You're bugging out; she looks so goddamn familiar
>Yeah, shit, you're sure of it - if you didn't know any better she's a dead ringer for that fella' Angel Dust, but it can't be him, the voice and mannerisms are far too different
>"Uh. . ." you try to say, "Er, hello. Where am I?"
>Your mind has other questions like "am I gonna die," but, you aren't restrained so maybe this isn't about to turn into Misery
>She chitters, stepping closer, rounding the side of the bed to look you over, a digit tracing over your forehead - the touch is nice, soft and delicate, immediately filling you with warm comfort
>"Safe in my web, little fly," she chimes. "Found you on my doorstep, crumpled up like yesterday's news. I'm afraid I've a soft spot for strays."
>Safe? Oh god, are you? Demons around these parts have all sorts of tricks up their sleeve. Is she gonna eat you?
>"It doesn't help you're a cute one," she says, leaning a bit closer, inspecting your injuries
>So, that's nice and all, but her hefty tits just about squish into your face. No, they do, the weighty mounds blinding your vision as she "checks" you
>"HRMF?"
>She laughs - "Ah, terribly sorry, little fly. I forget myself. Don't normally have company these days. The family's all scattered about you see. Oh, my sweet little spiders are always having a tiff, the ex is a fiend and a vagrant, and. . ."
>Look you're more than happy to oblige this lass and hear out her laments, but those tits are a bit MUCH, and even in your injured state, the bestial part of you is getting busy
>I-almost-died is, after all, one hell of an adrenalin rush
>She lifts a little so your vision isn't impaired. Her radiant eyes flutter, and a palm comes to your chest. Then, she grins, bearing fangs like pearly knives.
>"Oh, but you don't seem to mind, do you?"
>Uh oh. UH OH. Your dick has a mind of its own. Not even a broken leg and a few scrapes put that little rascal down.
>"Uhh, hah, s-sorry," you say
>You're not, exactly - she shoved her thick bust in YOUR face after all, but at the same time, she did scrape your ass off the ground like a piece of used gum, and you don't want to offend the arachnid who has your fate in her multiple arms
>Well, it's clear she doesn't care, because a soft palm presses on your crotch, squeezing, feeling at the dimensions of you
>SHIT. Your blood goes from "eh" to "FUCK" in about three seconds, and you gasp
>"Oh, don't be, little fly. It's good to see you so. . . spirited. Good company is hard to find these days, you know. My youngest is off gallivanting with his father, my second youngest a ruffian and bantering around from a fiendish ghoul in a suit, I hear, and my daughter doesn't write back. It's terribly quiet, and. . ."
>She blinks, laughing, "Oh but listen to me, going on and on. Perhaps we'll chat later."
>She licks her lips. Oh fuck, you know that look, that sultry come-hither gaze. Damn, her voice is like warm honey too, soft and gentle, lulling you.
>"Even I have needs. . ." she trails off, gaze affixed to your pants now. Well, you're not gonna stop her. You can't, actually.
>Were you ever into spiders? You are now. She straightens, her spare arms unbuttoning the front of her shirt, and like a cannon her fluff bosom bounces out, offering a soft wiggle, freed and at gravity's mercy
>Obviously, you can't look away - this woman's got it ALL, and she cranes her neck, offering a relieved sigh.
>"It's good to see a young hot blood take an interesting in an old spin-stress like me."
>Take an interest? Woman, you have tits so big you could ski on them, no need to be modest.
>"I take it you're uncomfortable too?" she says, her spare fingers coming to your pants, zipping you free. The answer was yes - nothing worse than a dick that just can't escape its tethered tomb.
>She pulls down your pants and allows your flank to spring free, hard and defiant. At least this thing didn't get knuckled up in the skirmish, whatever that was.
>She grins, predatory and wanting. Her pupils dance - you swear they look like hearts.
>"A little relief will do both our fetid souls good, yes?"
>You *nodnodnod*
>"Stress relief is nice," you manage as her fingers wrap around your inches, applying smooth, swift strokes. Gh, that's damn good, it's like silk, pulling and tugging at your length in ALL the right ways
>She simpers and chuckles, teasing you, cupping your stones, tossing her hand along you, forcing groans to erupt from your chest
>Honestly this is good enough, but the "misses" ain't done with you. No, she adjusts herself, going prone on the bed so her fat, heavy front swallow your inches in their embrace, and GOD you almost lost it right there
>It's not just the feeling, it's the sight, and having a pretty woman's mouth so close to, well, you, is intoxicating
>Words are pretty useless now, for both of you. Her wet, smooth lips come to kiss you at the tip, obliging with supple eat, pulling you into her maw
>GAH! You can feel her skilled tongue toy and play with its food, stroking the pole, polishing the blade, her free arms resting on your knees (carefully)
>You'd buck into her sweet, suckling mouth if you could, but the injuries make that uh, impossible. Whatever, it's plenty nice anyway, and you groan as she dips further and further along your flesh.
>"Ohmf," she mumbles, tickling you with an accent moan before popping you free. "A little soldier holding their proud flag."
>Once more, she offers a gentle kiss on your crown, sticky and sucking. "Mwah."
>You shiver, clenching the sheets. Hmm, if she's gonna do something fucky here, you guess that's fine. Worse ways to go, right?
>Well, lucky for you, this spider's benign, or so she is for now. Instead of pulling out a knife, she instead presses her thick, heavy bosom together, choking you with the hot, fluffy mounds.
>They're fascinating, these battering rams - it's like flesh but not, like silk but not, like fluff but not, firm and pleasant and pillow-y
>Your cock isn't complaining, and she starts to slam them against your inches in a gentle rhythm, clapping against hips, utterly fascinated
>Pre-sex dribbles from your tip, and this appears to excite her. She continues to suckle and lip the flesh present, but her expression shifts, almost manic with lust
>Oh, cool, are you having that effect? Doesn't matter, she can do what she wants at this point.
>And so she does!
>"Ahh, I w-was mistaken!" she chimed between mouth motions, "You're not little at all!"
>T-thanks? Is she just putting the sugar on? Well your excited dick is happy anyway, ravaged with tingling, radiating warmth
>Every bounce and jiggle of her head-sized tits brings you closer to peak, your chest hammering, breath hastening
>It's the sight too that's killing you - her ravishing eyes lock to yours as she throttles your tip with her throat, lightly tossing her head against it like the supple, fat weight of her front milks you for what you're worth
>All the pain seems to vanish, at least for a spell, the motherly Mrs. Dust pounding her plump "ladies" along you, hands squeezing them together, locking you in a vice of hot fluff
>"Hmhmhm!" she chuckles, perhaps sensing your nearing orgasm
>Well, nice spider sense, because the attentions mixed with "almost died sex" result in a "I've gotta cum on this broads tits or I'm gonna lose my mind"
>With a long, pleased grunt, you do precisely that, your loins shaking and buckling as a hot rope of white issue bursts from the tip in a single, jetting rope, the sticky nectar splattering her visage and making a gooey mess of the soft cleave
>"O-oh!"
She blinks in surprise, some of the spunk trailing over her eye, but it only seems to excite her more
>As you settle down, she licks your crown, face flushed a gentle hint of rose, eyeing your flank with fascination
>"Oh, goodness, little fly. More gusto than I expected! You think I'm that attractive, do you?"
>She puts a digit on her cheek, a bridge of you forming between the finger and cheek
>"Hmm, a bit quick on the draw, but we'll work on that."
>Huh? Work on that?"
>She smirks, rising from the bed, retrieving a cloth to wipe her visage, hefty tits swaying with her movements
>She rubs your crotch too, cleaning the issue, before swaggering to the bathroom
>"We'll catch up later, dear, but get some rest for now."
>O-oh. Uh. Well. Not like you had a choice. Guess it could be worse, right?
>Post-coitus bliss and injury take you again, forcing you to sleep.