God fucking damn it. Kokujin goes to genocide master mindflayers and turns out that the parser in NetHack thinks Kokujin wants to genocide monks. Why? Monks at level 30 attain the title of "Master" and the DevTeam are stupid and they smell bad.
At least it didn't go out in the painful way near my left kidney. Oh no this fucker was along the top of my back and the middle of my spine. I was fortunate that work was slow that I went home at 1 p.m., took the second to last vicodin and smeared my back with Icy Hot. During dinner I took my overdose of vitamins and fish oil in addition to an indomethacin for my back.
Still hurts my pride that my back went out like that doing something so simple.
May squirmed as her nephew's hand slid over her taut little tummy and sought out her cleft. It had been so long since she had the company of a man, even longer since she felt the eager presence of a young man ruled by his hormones who was willing to perform any act at any time.
Peter flicked his tongue against her earlobe teasing the diamond stud that Ben gave her for her 63rd birthday. "I don't know what's come over me." They both sighed heavily as his curious finger gained purchase and rubbed the pink eraser nub of her clitoris. "I've lived with you all these years and I just want to make love to you." She groaned feeling her panties become damp and her clit become slick between her folds.
And what exactly was going on with Peter's finger? It feels like there are teensy tiny little hairs all over it but they feel so damned good. Definitely not like Ben's fingers. May pressed her bottom against Peter's waist feeling his hard manhood straining for release to ravage her.
"It's been so long, Peter."
"Oh May, I'd do anything for you."
She awoke in a cold sweat. That damned dream again. Moonlight filtered through the curtains and played on her nephew's slender chest that rose and fell with each gentle breath. Reflexively she pulled the sheet over her sagging apple-sized breasts that Ben used to call "bite sized". Even though they were alone in the dead of night she couldn't help feeling self-conscious in stark contrast of the youthful perfection which was her Peter. Eager Peter whose mouth did such beautiful things. Gentle Peter who took her osteoperosis into account while he rhythmically thrusted into her to an electric crescendo that enlivened her body reminding May that she was still alive and how she had Peter now was a gift.
There was still the dream. May was cooking wheatcakes on a Sunday morning when Peter came over with that hussy from next door. Mary Jo? Marie Jameson? That redhaired harlot was hanging all over her Peter like a duck painting in a seedy motel room. What was she anyway? A hootchie dancer? Did she star in stag films behind Peter's back breaking his heart with every sordid frame? The dream became a nightmare when her eye caught a glint of sunlight on that scarlet whore's finger. She was wearing the ring that Ben gave May on her wedding day.
Peter stirred, rolling over and languidly dropping his arm on the side of the bed. May gathered the sheet about her like a toga and imagined herself as a goddess, walking purposefully to the bathroom to spend a penny and to clean herself of her nephew's seed. While sitting on the toilet she began stuffing the sheet into the hamper feeling a bit bolder and less ashamed when she spotted something tucked against the side.
A mask. A red mask with black lines. Those white eyes that she remembered from front page of The Daily Bugle. She stood and looked in the mirror and saw Mephisto standing behind her, soundlessly laughing but when May turned around no one was there.
Peter kissed May goodbye as he went off to find some work. She didn't have the courage to ask him about the mask or the costume she found in the attic. Such a nice boy, he couldn't be that awful Spider-Man.
Could he?
As she was chopping carrots for dinner a shadow fell across her shoulder. The knife clattered to the floor as she turned around and faced the tall bald man wearing robes. "Who are you?" she demanded, "What do you want? Leave me alone!" Uatu was now standing very close to her and wiping the semen on his right hand into one of the folds of his robe.
"I am Uatu. I see all. I am a Watcher. May Reilly Parker something has gone wrong with the universe and you are the cause." The old woman could only stare in awe.
"As hot as it was watching you being seduced by your nephew you aren't meant to be alive. The man you saw last night set things into motion which will bring down the universe around us." Uatu remembered the steamy vision of May greedily nursing Peter's cock, her large knuckles wrapped around his balls milking every last drop into her mouth and all over her face and felt himself become hard.
Her eyes glanced down at the floor at the knife. So close yet so far away. May's eyes were drawn to the increasing bulge on the droning babyfaced man standing before her. "You're going to rape me, aren't you?" she sighed with resignation.
"Yes. I'm afraid I have to. We're all doomed as long as Quesada's running things. Might as well go out with a bang."
