The city lights of Queens blurred into a hazy kaleidoscope outside the passenger window of Aunt May's modest sedan, the engine humming a steady, unassuming tune as they navigated the quiet suburban streets. Jason shifted in the seat, his long legs cramped but his mind anything but. This wasn't his world—not the one with capes and cosmic legacies, not the one where he'd just tangled with gods and monsters. No, this was an alternate thread in the multiverse's vast tapestry, a quieter corner where the stakes were smaller, the heroes younger, and the temptations... oh, they were deliciously ripe.
But Jason wasn't one to question gifts. Especially not when they came in the form of May Parker, the 36-year-old widow with a smile that could melt steel and curves that had haunted his reincarnated fantasies since he'd first laid eyes on her in this reality's version of the Daily Bugle archives. She was Peter's aunt, sure—guardian to that web-slinging kid—but tonight, she was his date. A "harmless" dinner at a cozy Italian spot in Manhattan, where her laughter had tinkled like wind chimes over glasses of Chianti, and her hand had brushed his more than once under the table.
May gripped the steering wheel with both hands, her knuckles pale, though Jason could see the flush creeping up her neck from the corner of his eye. She was dressed simply but elegantly—a knee-length navy dress that hugged her hourglass figure, the fabric whispering against her thighs as she shifted gears. At 36, she was a vision of mature allure: soft auburn hair pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, a few escaped tendrils framing her heart-shaped face; full lips painted a subtle rose; and eyes, hazel and warm, that darted to him every few seconds when she thought he wasn't looking. Her body was a testament to quiet strength and gentle yielding—generous breasts straining just enough against the bodice of her dress, hips that swayed with an unconscious rhythm when she walked, and legs that ended in sensible heels but promised worlds of softness higher up.
The date had been electric from the start. Jason, with his easy charm honed from two lifetimes of navigating desires, had drawn her out—talking about her late husband, her worries for Peter, her own dreams of a life beyond baking cookies and balancing checkbooks. He'd listened, really listened, his dark eyes locked on hers, making her feel seen in a way she hadn't since Ben's passing. But beneath the conversation, there was heat. His knee brushing hers under the table. The way he'd leaned in to whisper a joke, his breath warm against her ear. By dessert—tiramisu shared from the same spoon—she'd been fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing her legs, her body betraying the polite widow she tried to be.
Now, as they pulled into the driveway of her neat two-story home on a tree-lined street, the tension was a living thing, coiling between them like smoke. May killed the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the sound of their breathing. She turned to him, her key still in the ignition, fingers trembling slightly as she withdrew it.
"That was... wonderful, Jason," she said, her voice a husky murmur, laced with something deeper than gratitude. Her eyes flicked to his lips, then back up, pupils dilated in the dim glow of the streetlamp filtering through the windshield. "I haven't had a night like that in... well, longer than I care to admit."
Jason smiled, slow and predatory, unbuckling his seatbelt with deliberate leisure. He was dressed casually—dark jeans that hugged his athletic frame, a fitted black shirt that outlined the broad shoulders and defined chest he'd inherited from his Kryptonian side.
"It was my pleasure, May," he replied, his voice low, resonant. He reached over, his fingers grazing her hand on the gearshift, sending a visible shiver through her. "But the night's not over yet."
Her breath hitched. She didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers turned, intertwining with his for a brief, electric moment. "Jason... I..." She swallowed, her free hand smoothing her dress over her thigh, as if to steady herself. The arousal was written in every line of her body—the way her chest rose and fell a little too quickly, the subtle parting of her lips, the heat radiating from her skin like a summer sidewalk.
He leaned in closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume—vanilla and jasmine, mixed now with the musky undercurrent of desire. "Tell me what you want, May," he whispered, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "No games. Just truth."
She met his gaze, and in that moment, the last of her reservations crumbled. "I want you," she breathed, the words tumbling out like a confession. "God help me, I want you inside me. Right now."
The drive from the car to the front door was a blur of fumbling keys and stolen kisses—hot, urgent presses of lips against the cool night air, her back against the door as he crowded her, one hand cupping her face while the other slid down to grip her hip. May's hands were everywhere, tugging at his shirt, nails scraping lightly over his chest through the fabric. By the time they stumbled inside, kicking the door shut behind them, she was a live wire, her body pressed flush against his in the narrow hallway.
The house was cozy, lived-in—photos of Peter on the walls, a faint scent of fresh laundry and herbs from the kitchen—but Jason barely registered it. His focus was on her, on the way she gasped into his mouth as he backed her against the living room wall, his hands roaming freely now. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Upstairs," he murmured against her pulse point, feeling it thunder beneath his tongue. "Your bed. I want to take my time with you."
May nodded frantically, her hands clutching his shoulders as if he might vanish. She led the way—or tried to, her steps unsteady, heels clicking on the hardwood stairs. Jason followed close, his hands never leaving her—sliding up the backs of her thighs, pushing her dress higher with each step until he could feel the lace edge of her panties. She whimpered, a soft, needy sound that went straight to his cock, already straining against his jeans.
Her bedroom was at the end of the hall, a sanctuary of soft blues and whites: a queen-sized bed with a quilted comforter, nightstands cluttered with books and a half-empty glass of water, sheer curtains billowing gently from the cracked window. Moonlight spilled across the floor, casting silver highlights on the rumpled sheets. May turned to him as the door clicked shut, her hands going to the zipper at her back. But Jason was faster. He caught her wrists, gently but firmly pinning them above her head against the door.
"Let me," he said, his voice a command wrapped in velvet. His free hand tugged the zipper down slowly, inch by torturous inch, exposing the smooth expanse of her back. The dress pooled at her feet in a whisper of fabric, leaving her in nothing but a black lace bra that cradled her full, D-cup breasts—soft and heavy, the nipples already pebbled against the sheer material—and matching panties that clung to the generous curve of her hips and the plump mound between her thighs.
May's breath came in shallow pants, her body arching toward him instinctively. At 36, she'd borne the marks of life—faint stretch marks like silver threads on her hips and belly, a softness to her waist that spoke of comfort over perfection—but to Jason, she was exquisite. A MILF in every sense: experienced, curvaceous, radiating that quiet sensuality that came from knowing one's own body. Her skin was warm under his palms as he released her wrists, his hands sliding down her arms, over her shoulders, to cup her breasts. He squeezed gently at first, thumbs circling the lace-covered peaks, then harder, eliciting a moan that was half-sigh, half-plea.
"Jason... please," she whispered, her hands fumbling with his belt now, desperate to feel him. He let her, stepping back just enough to shrug off his shirt, revealing the chiseled planes of his torso—abs rippling under taut skin, a faint trail of dark hair leading downward. Her eyes widened, hunger flaring as she unbuckled him, shoving his jeans and boxers down in one eager motion. His cock sprang free, thick and long—eight inches of rigid heat, veined and flushed, the head already glistening with pre-cum.
"Oh my God," May breathed, her hand wrapping around him instinctively, stroking from base to tip with a tentative firmness that made him groan. She was aroused beyond reason now, her panties visibly damp, the scent of her wetness filling the room like an aphrodisiac. Jason's pervert soul reveled in it—the power he held over this mature beauty, the way her body trembled for him.
He didn't let her linger. With a swift motion, he unclasped her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her breasts in all their glory: full and pendulous, with wide, dusky areolas and nipples like ripe berries begging to be sucked. He bent his head, capturing one in his mouth, tongue laving the sensitive bud while his hand kneaded the other. May cried out, her head falling back against the door, fingers tangling in his hair. "Ahh! Yes, just like that... oh, Jason, you're so good..."
He lavished attention on her chest, alternating between sucking and nipping, leaving faint red marks that would remind her of this night come morning. His hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties to find her core. She was soaked, her folds slick and swollen, clit throbbing under his fingertips as he circled it slowly. May bucked against his hand, a keening whine escaping her lips. "Please... inside me. I need you inside me now."
Jason pulled back, his lips shiny with her taste, eyes dark with lust. He hooked his fingers in her panties and yanked them down her legs, exposing the neat trim of auburn curls above her glistening pussy. She was beautiful there—lips puffy and pink, entrance clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. He guided her to the bed, pushing her down onto the soft mattress, where she sprawled like an offering, legs parting wide in invitation.
He stripped fully, climbing over her, his cock brushing her inner thigh as he settled between her legs. "You're so wet for me, May," he murmured, positioning the head at her entrance, teasing her with shallow dips that coated him in her arousal. "This pussy's been waiting for a young stud like me, hasn't it? Tight and hungry."
"Yes," she gasped, hips lifting to take more of him. "Fuck, yes—been so long... take me, Jason. Make me yours."
With a deliberate thrust, he sank into her, inch by thick inch, stretching her walls around his girth. May's eyes rolled back, a long, throaty moan spilling from her throat: "Oooohhh... so big... filling me up..." She was tight despite her age and experience, her body gripping him like velvet over steel, inner muscles fluttering as she adjusted to his size. Jason groaned, bottoming out with a wet slap, his balls nestling against her ass. The sensation was exquisite—hot, slick, enveloping him completely.
He started slow, pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back in, savoring the drag of her pussy along his length. May's hands clutched the sheets, her breasts bouncing with each measured thrust, nipples hard points in the cool air. "Harder," she begged, her voice breaking. "Fuck me harder, baby—give it to me!"
Jason obliged, his hips snapping forward with increasing force, the bed creaking under them. The room filled with the obscene symphony of their joining: the wet *schlick-schlick* of his cock plunging into her soaked cunt, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, her escalating cries—"Ah! Ah! Yes, right there!"—and his own guttural grunts. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, changing the angle to hit deeper, grinding against her G-spot with every stroke. May's body arched, her free hand clawing at his back, nails leaving red trails that only spurred him on.
"You're so fucking perfect," he growled, leaning down to capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, tongues tangling as he pounded into her. Sweat slicked their bodies, making every slide smoother, hotter. He could feel her building, her walls tightening around him like a vice, clit grinding against his pubic bone with each thrust. "Come for me, May. Milk my cock with that greedy pussy."
She shattered with a scream—"JAAAASOOON! Oh God, I'm coooomiiing!"—her body convulsing, juices gushing around him in a hot flood. Her orgasm rippled through her, inner muscles spasming wildly, pulling him deeper. Jason didn't stop, riding her through it, his pace relentless, drawing out her pleasure until she was sobbing with overstimulation.
Only then did he chase his own release, thrusts turning erratic, brutal. "Fuck, May—gonna fill you up... take every drop!" With a roar that rattled the windows, he buried himself to the hilt and erupted, thick ropes of cum painting her depths, pulsing hot and endless. May whimpered, her aftershocks milking him dry, their bodies locked together in sweaty, sated bliss.
They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, Jason still inside her, both panting as the world came back into focus. May's fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, a soft smile curving her lips. "That was... incredible," she murmured, nuzzling his neck.
Jason smirked, already hardening again inside her warmth. The night was young, and in this universe, he had all the time in the world to explore every inch of his MILF conquest.