Page 7 of In His Weby

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I swirled my tongue around the head, lapping at the precum that was dripping from him.

“Not much longer,” he warned.

I moaned my approval, taking him in until his cock pressed against the back of my mouth, relaxing my throat and letting the muscles there flex around him.

His body thrust toward me, pushing him further in as he gave a final growl. I gagged on him, saliva leaking from between my lips. His hot seed poured out of him. He held my head steady, thrusting deeper as his come spewed into the back of my throat. My hands held his legs to steady myself as I tried to work my way through it, but there was too much. I tried to pull away. My movement made him pull his cock from my mouth, seed still spurting from the end.

It dripped from my chin and sprayed onto my breasts, warm and flowing as it crept down my belly. Bishop was panting above me, his shaky fingers still clasped in my hair. I ran a finger through the trail of come down my belly, swirling it around my breast before sucking it from the end of my finger.

“Fuck,” Bishop groaned.

ChapterSix

Well,I was here. I was horny. And I was getting used to seeing the eight eyes looking back at me. I enjoyed the awe in his gaze, and the fondness in the way he touched me between greedily feasting on my pussy and shoving his cock down my throat. I had come this far, and I was willing to go all the way.

Bishop steadied himself in the web, and I realized my legs were still bound. There were spurts of come on the webbing around us. It cooled against my skin as Bishop watched me, looking at the results of our actions trailing over my skin like a Jackson Pollock.

“You are a mess,” he noted.

“Do you like that?”

“Too much.”

He unbound my legs, and I grasped onto him again as he lowered us back to the floor. His legs barely made a sound as he moved across the open space and toward a back curtain that was nearly hidden among the webbing. Inside, the light was again a red tone. The floor was smooth tile and overhead was a single water spout. A personal bathroom just for him.

“Do you live your whole life in this tent?” I asked.

He nodded, grasping me in one arm and supporting me with his pedipalps as he reached to turn on the water.

“I can’t very well walk around in the open, can I?” he said, a bit of sadness in his voice.

He held one hand under the water, waiting for it to warm up, before he walked us both beneath the stream.

I tilted my head back, enjoying the feel of the water falling over my body. It ran down my heated skin, warming me further. I could feel it trickle along my overly sensitive nipples. My swollen clit was pressing against the fur of his spider half, causing just enough friction to awaken my need for more.

“Sometimes, for Halloween, I go out. I perch on a tent, steady myself, and people assume I am just a man sticking out of a costume. And the ringmaster now has a show she wants us to perform in,” Bishop explained.

“Are you the only one of your kind?” I asked.

I leaned my head back, moaning as he ran his fingers through my hair. I liked how he could hold me steady at the waist, my legs wrapped around him, and still use his hands. The sound made him pause, his eyes staring with hunger at my parted lips.

“I do not know. I was very young when the ringmaster found me, and I have been with her ever since.”

“So lonely,” I said, running a hand down his chest.

“It is,” he answered.

His hand ran down my chest, washing away his seed with the stream of water. I watched him as he worked quietly. There was a bit of sadness to his face. I took note of the shadow of beard along his jaw and how each of his eyes were lined with a soft row of lashes. When he set me down and stepped back, turning his torso away from me, I saw that the blue and gray streaks went down his spine. I reached out, touching them to realize that they were fine hairs that stretched all the way down to his torso where it continued on in the same pattern.

He shivered at my touch and I withdrew my hand.

“I am sorry,” I said.

“No,” he replied, turning to face me. “I like your touch. No one . . . I am never touched by anyone else.”

We finished our shower, and Bishop handed me a towel to wrap around myself. I did not know what time it was and did not know when the carnival was going to close. I stared at my pile of clothes still on the ground and tucked the towel tighter around myself.

“Have other women come here?” I asked.


Tags: Rebecca Massey Paranormal