Spider-Man of Earth 65: Chapter 167 - The Patriarchs // Rio Morales

(***R18 Start. Sort-of***)

In the backyard of the mansion, carved into the bluff just above the shoreline, was a state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen shaded by a cedar pergola. Tiled floors, embedded counter grills, even a brick oven. Tonight, it was all about the charcoal grill and Aaron Davis was in full command of it.

Tongs in hand, apron around his waist (one that proudly read Grill Sergeant), Aaron flipped a thick patty with the flair of a man who took meat seriously.

“These are 80/20 ground chuck, hand-packed,” Aaron announced. “None of that frozen puck nonsense. Garlic, onion powder, bit of brown sugar for caramelization. You’re welcome.”

Felix leaned against the counter sipping a chilled soda, the sun catching on his sunglasses.

“You’ve said that like three times.”

“Because the flavor’s worth repeating,” Aaron shot back. “Also, I’m making sure it gets burned into your millionaire memory. This is the real gift today.”

“Millionaire? Please.”

Rio was sitting at a nearby table with her younger sister Maria, her feet up on a bench and a large sunhat on her head. She laughed as her mother, Gloria, swatted at Maria for trying to sneak a chip. Music played softly from Eden’s speaker across the patio—classic Santana.

It was all nice and cool. That was until Eden Fesi walked by. His trademark orange visor gleamed in the sun. He didn’t look to be in a hurry. 

“Camera two picked up someone approaching on foot. No threat, but not scheduled.”

On foot? Ah, there was only one man who had the balls to travel here on foot. Felix nodded once. “Thanks. Open the gates.”

“Yes, boss.” Eden nodded and melted back into the shade.

Ten minutes later, as Rio laughed at one of her mom’s old stories about a disastrous beach party, Maria sat up straight and squinted at someone walking up the side of the yard path.

“Is that…?” Rio turned and went slack-jawed. “Papa!?”

Jaime Morales came wearing a crisp white guayabera shirt, navy slacks, and scuffed black dress shoes that suggested long walks on uneven roads. His short silver hair was combed, his frame wiry but strong, posture straight as a board. A deep scar ran from his jaw to his collarbone. An old one, healed and clean.

Felix waved at him as the man’s family greeted him more directly. 

In official records, Jaime Morales was dead. Died in a workplace accident during the height of immigration tensions two decades ago. But really?

He’d never died.

The lie had been part of the refugee paperwork; an elaborate, painful workaround for Rio and her mother to enter the U.S. during a time when legal paths were all but shut. They’d done what they had to do. And when Rio married Jefferson Davis, Jaime had let them go, let them build a life. Gloria, in turn, returned home years later.

They were opposites, Gloria and Jaime.

Where Gloria was warm, open, and effortlessly forgiving, Jaime was iron. Rigid. Principled. Suspicious. And not of his wife or daughters—but of outsiders.

Jaime didn’t approach with joy. He came with formality. He embraced Rio with one arm, nodded to Gloria, nodded to Maria.

“It’s good to see you all,” Jaime said.

“I-I thought you said you wouldn’t come!” Rio exclaimed. “Did you finally convince him, Mama?”

Gloria Morales laughed. “Not this time. Seems the old frog decided to come by himself.” 

They spoke in Spanish, not in English. Luckily, with the Advanced Lens, everything was automatically translated into English for him. 

Jaime first caught Aaron’s gaze and gave a nod. His gaze shifted and landed on Felix. Cue whatever amusement or slight wisps of a smile disappearing. The older walked up to Felix like a mafia boss. He looked him up and down and seemed agitated that he had to do this.

He extended a hand. Felix took it. Jaime’s grip was firm.

“Only today,” Jaime said. “I will be staying over.”

Like any good strict father, Jaime did not approve of Felix. Not one bit. Especially because he liked Jefferson who to him had a good, honourable job as a police officer. The scientist rich shit that Felix sounded like baloney.

“Don’t trust him,” Felix overheard him telling his own daughter. 

Hilariously, he was correct. Felix wasn't some normal scientist or businessman: he was literally Spider-Man. So while the rest of the Morales family enjoyed the fruits of Felix's labour, he did not. He refused. He kept in contact and visited, oh sure, but never for long and never overnight. That was his one big rule. 

‘Old man has good instincts.’

Felix smiled politely. “You’re always welcome.”

Jaime didn’t smile back. The handshake ended and he checked on their barbecue. “Good as always, Aaron.”

The Prowler awkwardly smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

By sundown, the sky over Rincón was painted in strokes of coral and indigo. The sound of coquí frogs began to join the soft music playing, and the barbecue had shifted into its next phase: drinks, laughter, and exaggerated stories.

Aaron kicked back with a cold beer, half-listening to Maria try to arm-wrestle Eden, who was two piña coladas deep and dangerously confident.

Felix sat near the fire pit, legs crossed, sipping something stronger—whiskey, neat—and eyeing the scene with relaxed amusement. Rio rested her head on his shoulder.

Across from them, Jaime sat like a monument. His drink, a clear, unlabeled bottle of rum, looked untouched, but Felix had counted at least four glasses. The man had the liver of a demigod was still stone sober.

“You sure you’re not a robot?” Felix asked, raising his glass. He had to try and joke with him, right? Try to bond and stuff?

“I work in the sun,” Jaime replied. “Something like this isn’t a challenge. It’s refreshment.”

“Right, you run a store.”

“All the shipping, all the work, it’s done only by me.”

Impressive for a man who was what? In his late fifties, early-sixties? Something like that. On the other end, Eden was… struggling.

“I’m fine,” Eden slurred to Aaron, slouching with both hands cupped around a coconut drink. “Totally… maintaining visual surveillance integrity...”

“Yeah, you’re seeing double integrity right now,” Aaron muttered, hauling him up. “Alright, I’m getting this drunk idiot out of here.”

“Nooo, I’m part of the grid—!”

“You’re part of the hammock now.”

As Aaron carried Eden inside like an oversized toddler muttering about camera calibration and lemurs, Felix couldn’t stop laughing. Rio laughed with him. Jaime looked like he wanted to have fun and didn’t. Because of Felix. Man, this was hard. 

“I’ll see you later, Papa.”

“Leaving already, Rio.”

“I have a strict schedule, you know. Can’t be lazing around too much.” Rio then winked at Felix. “See you tonight?”

Felix raised a bottle. “Yes, ma’am!”

The fire pit had died down, most of the guests had turned in, and the stars above the mansion were glittering like spilled sugar. It was only Jaime and Felix.

“So…”

Jaime just took a swing of his bottle. That ended the conversation pretty quickly. ‘Seriously, how do I approach this? Talk about Rio? I tried that last time, it didn’t work.’ 

“Gonna take a leak,” Jaime grunted, heading toward the dark stretch of yard where there was nothing but grass. 

Felix got way too enthusiastic and leapt to his feet. On the front of mind and limbs was the need to bond with this man. Which stopped from thinking rationally when he squared up and said, “I’ll join you.”

Jaime gave him a sidelong glance. “You need a chaperone?”

‘I’m really bad at this, huh?’ 

“Well, you know…”

Jaime grumbled, although…he didn’t say no. Approval? He just turned and walked toward the tree line behind the house. Close to the walls. 

Felix’s mind was occupied with the logistics. ‘How do I get through to him?’ Jaime was a hard nut to crack. Military spine even though he wasn’t sure if he was a military. A mindset based on a traditional family and a suspicious brain. The kind of man who believed in loyalty over charisma and action over words.

Jefferson Davis had been all that. A cop, grounded, understandable, and with the right kind of cunning. And Felix? Felix was a walking contradiction: young, rich, too smooth, and hiding more secrets than a vault.

They stood side by side. Jaime grunted, stepped up, and unzipped. Felix followed with absent-minded grace, still mentally rehearsing conversation strategies.

Jaime glanced when he heard a certain plap. He froze. He blinked.

The Puerto Rican's brain, trained through years of discipline and pride, did a full double-take. He wasn’t trying to look. But sometimes… your eyes act on instinct. And what Jaime saw was enough to make a man reconsider physics.

‘...What in the holy mother of God is that?’

Jaime’s face twitched, his eyes darting forward again. A muscle in his cheek jumped. He tried not to look. He failed.

‘That can’t be… No. That’s not even proportional.’

He shifted slightly. Took a casual, totally-not-checking glance downward again. Jaime looked down at himself. Normal. Solid. A respectable size. The kind of thing you’d be proud of in a locker room. Not a king. But a solid lieutenant. A “never got any complaints” kind of deal.

Then back at Felix.

It wasn’t just the length. No, this was volume. Mass.

Jaime was fucking tiny in comparison.

Felix didn’t even realize what was going on in his father’s head. He was pissing and thinking, ‘Think, think, what else should I do? Should I buy him a new car or something? Hmm, maybe that’s too suspicious.’ 

Meanwhile, Jaime was gawking. There was no way around it. The Puerto Rican man wasn’t a small man—far from it—but Felix was... genetically exceptional. Simply built different. Felix was dwarfing him like he was a little boy.

It wasn’t just his cock; his balls too. That flapping noise at the start…fuuuck. It agitated them that he could imagine the shock on his daughter's face.

‘Jefferson was definitely never this big,’ he admitted bitterly.

He stared at the wall ahead. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. 

‘No wonder Rio likes him.’

Jaime, who had prided himself for years on being “above average,” now felt like he’d stepped into a competition. His pride, carefully weathered over decades, suddenly felt like an inflatable pool float in a hurricane.

“Phew.”

Christ, that nutsack annoyed him almost as much as that ridiculous white sausage. When Felix shook his dick, everything fucking shook and plapped. It was like…come on! It was way, way different than Jaime’s quiet member. 

Jaime looked down at his own respectable, well-aged self. He shook off what was left and it made no noise. Whereas Felix…

Plap, plap, plap!

Side by side, one was hung, the other was humble. Coming here, the father planned to be the opposite of humble. Not anymore.

Felix zipped up first.

Jaime cleared his throat, zipped up four seconds afterward, and stepped back in what could only be described as a deeply humbled silence. A sink was not too far away. This backyard was custom-made. Pipes underground for the sprinklers, for example. Jaime washed his hands slowly, face tight, like he’d just lost a private competition he didn’t even sign up for.

Folding under that pressure, how could any man or father blame him? Buddy probably thought he was big before he was stacked up against the other guy. The guy—Spider-Man. 

Felix was right beside him too, like a child wanting approval. “I’d really like to take you fishing sometime. There’s a quiet spot near Cabo Rojo. Rio said you used to go there.”

Jaime dried his hands slowly. “Fishing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Felix said with a smile. “You, me. It’ll be fun. I can get us a nice van.”

Jaime looked at him for a long moment.

He still didn’t trust this man. Too good to be real. Too perfect, too composed. But damn it, if he hadn’t earned a crack in the door.

“Fine.”

Really? He got to him!? Felix didn’t even realize it. And so, that night, he went to Rio’s room, excited and thrilled about the progress.

When he stood there…

“Huh…”

It hit him. He realized why exactly Rio’s father switched up. Suddenly, Felix had an idea. A horny, daring idea. 

…

…

…

PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!

That night, they skipped foreplay. They skipped everything and went right to fucking. His fat balls hung over her asshole and plapped against her.

PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck! Oh goooodnesss!!” Rio screamed, her voice by other orgasms as Felix buried himself to the hilt again and again and again. His cock was thick and unrelenting, stretching her in the most delicious way. She could feel every inch of him as he pulled out and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace from the start.

“I did it! I got your father’s approval!”

“T-t-that’s—that’s great! That’s amaaazziiiing!” 

They were trying to talk but how could she? The balls-slapping fuckery of a mating press. It was like nothing else, particularly when Felix was happy. So, so happy! When he had a method of getting his respect! 

“B-b-but wait! Waiiit! He’s gonna hear! He’s gonna hear me—” Her eyes rolled back. “CUMMIING!”

‘I know. Let your dad hear how much you love my cock.’

"CUMMING, CUMMIIING, CUMMIIING! NGGHGHH! HNGGGHHH! CAN'T SHTOOOPPP!"

Because upon reflection, that was why he said yes, right? All those other attempts, he took Felix was a man trying to make up for his flaws with his money. Not anymore. Not with this. Felix was a man. A real man with a big dick capable of satisfying his daughter. A bigger dick than him. That must have stung but it also must have knocked some sense into him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, loud and unapologetic. PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! Each thrust was deliberate, each feeling deeper than the last. Felix wasn’t just fucking her; he was claiming her, marking her as his in the most primal way possible.

Rio’s moans grew louder, more lewd, as Felix pounded into her. She could feel the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside her with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, trying to find something to hold onto as the intensity of it all threatened to overwhelm her, but then decided to just hang on to his shoulders. 

“YESSSS!” Rio cried out, her voice breaking as another wave of pleasure washed over her. “FUCK, YES! I LOVE IT! I LOVE YOUR COCK!”

Feet planted, cock slamming down deep, Felix smilled. ‘Keep screaming for me. Let your dad know who’s fucking you tonight.’

Rio didn’t need to be told outright. She made all the right noises. She let out a loud, guttural moan. She could only imagine what her father must be thinking, hearing his daughter being fucked like this just a few rooms away. The thought only turned her on more, fueling the fire burning inside her.

Suddenly, her MILF body convulsed as she came hard, her pussy clenching around Felix’s cock in a series of intense spasms. The sensation was too much for Felix to handle. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her and let go, his cum flooding her pussy in hot, sticky waves.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed together as they caught their breath. Then Felix pulled out, his cock still throbbing as he looked down at Rio’s trembling form. He did it. Fucking a gorgeous woman—another man’s daughter—the right way. Break her in and breed her.

Her eyes were rolled back and she was giggling. She was cock drunk. Rio sometimes did that. Her legs hung to the sides of her. Felix slapped his cock on her O-shaped, gurgling pussy. Cum was bursting out and falling on both her stomach, thighs, and down her crack. Then there was that leg twitch as she said, “More…”

You know this latina slut was all for him. 

“Let’s just wait,” Felix said, “I need you to be more coherent.”

After all, when the cock is that good, the uncontrollable shakes, trimmers and moans lasted a few minutes. Hell, during the mating press, Rio nearly passed out three times.

Rio gasped, regaining her dignity, and whispered, “ W-we were so loud…”

“I know.”

So Felix went out of his way to fuck her loudly for the whole night. Suffice to say, if Jaime Morales did hear his daughter moaning, he definitely heard her worshipping and praising his cock at the top of her lungs.

***

That next morning, there was a knock on the bedroom. Felix knew who it was and intentionally did not wear anything as he opened it.

“Oh! J-Jaime!” He covered himself up. Unlike most men, however, who could cover up their flaccid schlongs and balls with a single hand, Felix simply could not. Talk about being hung.

The Puerto Rican man opposing him grimaced. “Faeth.” His eyes darted down. He was annoyed. Why the fuck was that thing so big? And…fuck…

He saw it. Past Felix’s shoulder, the father saw his daughter on the bed, asleep. She got dicked down hard. Felix saw the swell of emotions in his eyes. This dude clapped her cheeks in a way that her ex-husband probably never did.

Jaime Morales was a traditional man. He protected his women: his wife, his daughters. And he expected the men to do the same. Preferably on equal shoulders. As fellow patriarchs taking care of a family.

But this?

The Puerto Rican's eyes flicked down. How the fuck was he supposed to stand next to this young stud? How? He had more cock than Jaime could spare twice over. 

“Uh, sir?”

It was working! R-right?

Jaime made eye contact at last. As long as Felix stood there like a stupid nerd, the white beast flashbanged him. He humphed and crossed his arms. “Have a bottle with me.”

“R-right now?”

Another flick down to his cock and balls. This white, pasty motherfucker plowed his daughter’s cheeks like it was nothing, bought them a house, had a cock that dwarfed his, had balls probably triple his own size, and more. Like…what was he supposed to say here? Insult him? Man to man...no, patriarch to patriarch, it didn’t feel right. 

“Just get changed and come down.”

So there they were in the living room five minutes later, Felix in a fresh white shirt and sweatpants, chilling on the long couches and a bottle of Bacardí in hand. It felt like Jaime was actually looking at the mansion for the first time because he was looking around and asking questions.

“How much is the television?”

“Money-wise? About twenty grand.”

Jaime snorted, popped open the bottle, and heartily drank it. Felix did the same out of obligation.

“You buy everything here at random or what?”

“No, sir, I’m a meticulous type, I choose everything.”

“Hrm. That’s good.”   

Jaime smiled. He actually smiled. 

Look at that! Approval! The dynamic was changing—and all he had to do was show his big dick and plow his daughter too! 

The smile didn’t leave his face as the potential father-in-law said, “Clearly, you have plenty of seed in your garden, so to speak.” Jaime turned. Felix blinked as he leaned forward. “When will you marry my daughter? When will you give us more grandkids? I’d like a granddaughter, you see.”

Time slowed. Felix put down his drink. One hundred and twenty percent of his brain was being used for a response. 

‘Uh…maybe I got too much approval?’