I wasn’t supposed to see it.
Gary’s door was supposed to be locked. It always was when he was doing something private, talking to his girlfriend on FaceTime, or standing in front of the full-length mirror in that stupid pose he thought made his arms look bigger.
My brother Gary is twenty-six years old, glasses, curly dark hair he kept pushing out of his face, a body he’d actually started taking seriously the last two years. He’s the nerdiest guy I’ve ever know. He knows every detail and line of the Avengers. Marvel posters on every wall. Funko Pops lined up like a shrine. The guy still said “excelsior” when he was in a good mood.
And he had just bought a full Spider-Man suit. I’m twenty two and always had a crush on my brother, specially since he started to hit the gym.
Not the cheap Halloween kind. The expensive one. The one with the raised webbing, the decent mask, the way it clung to his chest and the thick muscle he’d built in the campus gym he still went to after work. His girlfriend, Jenna, was in Europe for three weeks with her girl friends. He told me he was taking “fit pics” to farming aura for instagram and send some to her girl. Keep the spark alive. Whatever.
I walked past his room to get a charger and the door wasn’t fully shut.
Gary was in the suit.
Mask off. Glasses still on. The top of the suit peeled down to his waist, the red-and-blue fabric bunched around his hips, and his cock was out. Hard. He was holding his phone in one hand, angling it, biting his lip the way he did when he was concentrating on a screenshot. The flash went off. Then again.
I should have walked away.
I didn’t.
I stood there in the hallway like an idiot and watched my older brother take nudes in a Spider-Man costume for a girl who was currently eating gelato in Rome.
That was the night I made the fake account.
@marvelgurl2002. Blonde selfie I created with AI. Bio that said Europe is boring, miss American dudes. I followed him. He followed back in four minutes.
The first message was easy.
hey. Saw your spidey pics. you’re actually hot in the suit.
Gary typed for a long time.
wait who is this
A marvel girl fan. don’t be mad. I just found you hot. Ur aura is off the charts.
He was quiet for eleven minutes.
Then a photo came through.
Gary. Full suit. Mask on this time. The bulge in the red fabric was obvious. He’d taken it in the bathroom, leaning against the sink, one hand on the doorframe like he was posing for a variant cover.
don’t share this.
I sat on my bed with the phone shaking in my hand and typed back like I was some girl who’d never seen a dick in her life.
holy shit. take the mask off?
can’t. that’s the rule. if I’m in the suit, the mask stays. I’m just your friendly neighbor, spider man.
Of course it was.
We went back and forth for days. He sent more. Suit on. Cock out through the fly he’d clearly cut himself. The way the fabric framed it made it look worse — thicker, heavier, the kind of thing a guy like Gary pretended he didn’t think about. He talked like a nerd even when he was horny. Called it his “web-shooter.” Called the suit “the armor.” Asked if I wanted to see the “symbiote version” next, which was just a black suit he wants to buy next.
I was losing my mind.
Every time he walked past me in the kitchen in a faded Avengers shirt, glasses slipping down his nose, I knew what was on his phone. I knew what he’d sent the fake girl. I knew my own older brother was jerking off in a Spider-Man costume and sending it to someone he thought was a stranger.
I waited until Jenna posted a story from a club in Barcelona.
Then I went for it.
I’m passing in your city next Saturday. one night. motel off the highway. you come in the suit. mask on. I want to see if the pictures are real. Wanna suck that web shooter until it covers my whole slutty face.
Gary went silent for almost an hour.
this is insane
you’ve been sending me your dick for a week. I’m hungry for it
I have a girlfriend
She will not know. you’re hard right now. I can’t wait to taste your web shooter
Another twenty minutes.
room 214. the interstate inn. 11pm. if you’re not in the suit I’m leaving.
Next Saturday I got there at ten-thirty.
Cheap motel. Thin walls. A bedspread that had seen better decades. I put on the blonde wig. The lingerie I’d bought that afternoon — black, cheap, the kind of thing Jenna wore in the photos he kept on his lock screen. I left the lamp on low and sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
At 11:04 the door opened.
Gary stepped in like he was breaking into the Baxter Building. Lights were low and red-ish.
Full suit. Mask on. The way it clung to his chest and the thick muscle of his thighs made my mouth go dry. His version of Spider Man was sexier in person than in the photos. I was salivating for my big bro. The glasses were gone. The curly hair was trapped under the mask. Only his mouth showed through the fabric when he spoke, and even that was muffled.
“This is so stupid.” he said. “I shouldn’t even be here. I can’t cheat on her.”
I stayed in character. Voice a little higher. The wig itching already.
“Shut up and lock the door, Spider-Man.”
He locked it.
He stood there for a second, breathing hard behind the mask, looking at the blonde hair and the lingerie and the fact that the person on the bed was not, in any universe, his girlfriend. Not even in a multiverse.
Then I took the wig off.
Gary froze.
“David, what the fuck???”
My real voice came back.
“Yeah.”
He took a step back like I’d hit him.
“What the fuck. What the fuck is this. That’s… that’s my little brother… is this a prank?”
“I know who I am. I made the account. I’ve been the girl the whole time.”
He didn’t take the mask off. He just stood there in the red and blue, the bulge already obvious, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he didn’t know whether to punch the wall or leave.
“You’ve been sexting with me…” he said, voice wrecked. “I’ve been sending my brother…”
“I know. Dick pics and I’m so grateful for that. I watched you take the first ones. Door was open. You looked sexy as fuck. You’re hotter than Tom Holland with that suit on.”
Gary made a sound that wasn’t a word.
“Take the mask off,” I said.
“No.”
“Then leave it on. I don’t care. I asked you to come in the suit. You’re in the suit. Jenna’s in Spain. You’ve been jerking off in that thing for two weeks.”
He shook his head. The lenses of the mask stared at me.
“This is so fucked.”
“I know.”
I got off the bed and went to my knees on the cheap carpet. The lingerie looked stupid now. I didn’t care. I reached for the fly he’d cut himself, the same one from the photos, and Gary’s hand caught my wrist.
He didn’t pull me away.
He just held it there, breathing hard, the suit creaking a little when his chest moved.
“David. Don’t. I’m horny. I will not be able to say no…”
“You’ve been sending it to me for a week,” I said. “You already did the worst part. Just let me finish it.”
His grip loosened.
I got the fabric open.
His cock was already hard — thick, flushed, perfect, beautiful like a cock from a porn movie, the same one from the bathroom photos, the one he’d been calling his web-shooter in the DMs like it was a joke. I wrapped my hand around it and he made a broken sound behind the mask.
“Fuck. Fuck. We can’t—”
I put my mouth on him.
Gary’s head went back. The mask stayed on.
“Fuuuuuuck.”
Both of his hands ended up in my hair like he didn’t know they were going there. I took him as deep as I could on the first try and he swore, low and wrecked, the nerd voice completely gone.
“That’s — that’s not — David—”
I didn’t stop.
He lasted about thirty seconds of trying to be the good older brother. Then his hips started moving. Then his hands got tighter. Then he was fucking my mouth the way he’d wanted to fuck the fake girl in the DMs, the way he’d been thinking about since Jenna got on that plane.
“Don’t look at me,” he muttered. “Don’t — just — keep it down, suck my spidey cock.”
I couldn’t have answered if I wanted to.
He used my throat. The suit stayed on. The mask stayed on. Only his cock was out, wet, disappearing into my mouth while the red-and-blue fabric stretched across his hips. Every time he pushed deep I gagged and he groaned like it was killing him and he still didn’t pull back.
“This is so wrong,” he said, and kept going. “You’re my — you’re my little brother and I’m — fuck— it’s the best blowjob ever.”
He sped up. The wet sounds filled the motel room. My eyes were streaming. The blonde wig was on the floor next to us. Gary’s grip in my hair was the same grip he used when he was losing a game on his PS5 and getting pissed about it.
“I’m gonna — I can’t — David, I’m gonna— here comes the fucking sticky spider webs.”
He didn’t pull out immediately.
He came with a sound that didn’t belong to any version of Spider-Man I’d ever watched, hips locked, pulsing across my tongue and then over my lips and my cheeks when he finally dragged himself out. Thick, messy, dripping down my chin. He stood there over me in the full suit, mask still on, cock still out, looking down at the mess on my face like he’d just committed a crime in every universe.
“Powerful spider webs, dude.” I said, stupid, because I couldn’t help it.
Gary made a noise that was almost a laugh and almost a sob.
Then he shoved his cock back into the suit, didn’t say another word, and went for the door.
“Gary—”
He didn’t turn around.
The door slammed. I heard his car start. I heard him pull out of the lot too fast.
I stayed on my knees on the motel carpet with his cum cooling on my face, the lingerie still on, the mask he never took off already halfway back to the house we both still lived in.
He was going to pretend this never happened.
I already knew I wasn’t going to let him.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
