Today's Fic Rec Is For The 18+ Crowd. Yes, You Read That Correctly 18+ Means If You're A Minor, This

Today's Fic Rec is for the 18+ crowd. Yes, you read that correctly 18+ means if you're a minor, this story isn't for you. But for readers who are of age here is a spicy Peter Parker story (and its sequel) by @fallensilencefics that may have you feeling some good vibrations.

After a tiresome day, You/Reader are ready to relax with a treat, and decide to go for it and ring up a sex phone chat line, little knowing that the sexy voice on the other end has a role to play in your life beyond the confines of titillating tech.

Equal parts steamy and scintillating, this short story and Peter Parker will charm the socks right off of you. Read it and find out what happens when you tell him what you want...

Say It (Mature Content, Minors DNI)

Say It...A Little Louder The Sequel to Say It (Mature Content, Minors DNI)

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Trick or Treat?

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For you my dear, here is some professor Peter Parker goodness.

You were just visiting Peter in his office, fully intent on dropping off his lunch, like any good spouse would. Sure, you were hoping for a kiss or two (or three). Sure, you wore the pale yellow sundress he loved so much. It was hot outside, in your defense. You truly didn't mean to start anything.

Alright, that wasn't entirely true.

You weren't complaining, your ass on his desk, legs wrapped around his waist. The door to his office was locked, though the possibility of someone knocking lurked in your mind.

The idea turned you both on, the possibility someone would stumble upon the university's physics professor fucking his wife in his office.

"Gotta be quiet," He whispered against your lips, his hips desperately meeting yours. Peter's thrusts were fast, hard, sloppy. You whined upon feeling the head of his cock brush against the spot that made you see stars.

"I'm-I'm trying," you groaned, fingers finding purchase in his dark locks.

"I know, can't help it, can ya?" His chuckle was dark, sending a thrill up your spine, "Fuck, you're s'pretty, taking me."

You tighten the hold your legs have around his lithe waist, as if you think he'll leave you.

"Not going anywhere baby," Peter reassures you, "Not until I fill you up."

His teeth nip down your neck, finding a home along your collarbone. A large hand snakes up your body, kneading your clothed breasts.

Your lips are pressed against his temple. All you can do is cling onto your husband as he continues to pound into you.

"P-please," You whisper, "Want it s'bad."

"Yeah? You wanna walk out of here, dripping with me? Is that it?" As much as you loved your sweet husband, you loved when he got like this.

All you can do is nod, too busy feeling overwhelmed by his cock, how it was brushing against that sweet spot over and over again.

"C'mon then bug. Make it happen."

The coil in your stomach that had been tightening snapped, your walls clenching his cock as your body slumped forward, hips irrationally thrashing against Peter's.

Peter moans against your skin, his own high releasing just from feeling yours.

The office is no longer filled by the sounds of skin slapping against skin, instead replaced by heavy panting as you two processed what just happened.

"Took us two years, but your desk is finally christened," You chuckled.

Peter laughed, his warm amber eyes finding yours.

"I think I have tissues somewhere," he said before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I hope so, wouldn't want your students to just sneeze into the air," You teased.

A boyish grin appeared on his face, "C'mon bug, I'm known as the messy Professor, not the dirty professor."

"You're my dirty professor." The eye roll from Peter was worth saying the corny line.

"Oh my God, get out."

"Nah, you don't have office hours for another thirty minutes Tiger."

Queue is full and so is life...

An age is called Dark not because the light fails to shine, but because people refuse to see it.

--James A. Michener (Space, 1982)