////Combat description
The arachnid must be over [if (metric) {a meter and a half|five and a half feet}] tall at the least, but her array of crimson legs crouch and move too much to get an exact idea. The large, dark red spider body contrasts the light complexion of her human half that rises from where a spider's head otherwise would be. If human standards are anything to go by, she seems to have just finished maturing, with an attractive dark-haired young woman's appearance from hip to head, and clad in darkened silk that covers up to her ample chest, leaving her shoulders bare. Makeshift sleeves dangle open around her arms. She might be called beautiful. Though, the extra 6 eyes and pair of needle-like fangs could dissuade some people.
///Victory!
The [if (multiple driders) {last }]red widow drider shivers and stumbles before collapsing to the ground, holding herself as her array of legs curl inward.[if (feral spider) { Her feral cousin[if (multiple feral spiders) {s look| looks}] just a vulnerable, unable to fight on.}]
[Fuck] [Sixty-Nine] [And other such amazing tales]
//Sixty-nine. No penises or taurs beyond this point!
The drider lies sprawled against the webby undergrowth, breathing in uneven huffs, but there's no fear in her many eyes. [if (lust victory) {Arousal, certainly|Exhaustion, perhaps}], but also resignation. She shifts her weight, angling her human half upright as she brushes her fingers across a loose strand of hair.

[say:I suppose you're going to finish me off now,] she says plainly. [say:Or feed me to your young?]

You move in with your [hand] gliding across her cheek. Her eyes narrow, uncertain, then widen in shock as you lean in and press your lips to hers. The kiss is warm and hungry. Her lashes flutter and her hand rises to caress your cheek in return.

[say:Am I not food? A weaker competitor, with blood still sweet...] She blushes as your lips press once again on hers.

You don't answer. You don't have to. The next kiss is deeper, twisting your [tongue] around her own. The drider shivers under your touch, her bare shoulders trembling just slightly as your [hand] slides over them to the dark, silky dress covering her breasts. She reaches back to balance herself, her fingers tangling in the grass and web-strands behind her.

While one palm kneads the softness of her breast, the other trails down the small of her back, then around her hip  beneath her little skirt. You push the ruffled fabric up, revealing her glistening, expectant folds. Her breath catches in her throat.

[say:You really want this,] she whispers. Her legs twitch and curl around you, pulling you close. [say:Our bodies cannot give each other young...]

You trail kisses down her neck, uninhibited by whether or not you could start a family. The pleasure of a beautiful woman is enough on its own. You continue down her collarbone, then lower, pulling the top of her dress down to suckle her nipple. Her breath quickens, her many eyes watching you with wonder and mounting lust.

Your [hand] strokes her pussy as she trembles in anticipation. You slide your fingers along her entrance, then sink down to taste her. Her cry is sharp, then soft, as her long forelegs fold around your shoulders. [say:Ah...] she breathes, one hand grasping the back of your head as you work your tongue in slow, insistent motions. Her taste is slightly bitter and vaguely earthy, or perhaps the scent of the wet grass is coloring your senses. Her shorter middle legs prod at you, motioning you to rise.

The drider's slender hands grope reverently as you move, reaching for your [vagina]. She seems about to speak, but stops herself, instead wordlessly maneuvering herself around so you both can lick each other as you lay in the bed of leaves, grass, and web. Her tongue meets your labia shortly, sliding into the cleft hungrily. At the same time, you lean in, burying your face once again in her muff. The two of you fall into a rhythm, your tongues lapping and licking.

Her tongue is agile, probing your folds and sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. The way she works you as methodically and diligently as she would weave a web makes your [if (singleleg) {loins|thighs}] quiver, heat building steadily in your core. Every flick, every lap feels precise, yet primal, like she's savoring each tremble she coaxes from you. Her mouth presses fully against you, lips sucking and tongue swirling until your breath hitches and your hips buck into her face. You moan into her cunt as you relish her taste as well, digging your [tongue] as far as it reaches; still, she doesn't falter, her dedication unshaken, as though bringing you to the peak is the natural order set in place the moment you defeated her. She must see through to the end.

Her many limbs twitch and grasp reflexively as she climaxes, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as her forelimbs shudder around your head. The moment wrings through her as she voraciously tongues your cunt, desperate and effective in pushing you to the same heights you brought her. You yelp involuntarily in turn, a fierce, shuddering wave that coiling from your clit down to your [if (number of legs !=2 && !isHoofed) {curling toes|[feet]}] and up again. Muscles tighten, your breath halts, and the climax wracks you, electrifying, as your hips grind  against her ravenous mouth.

You lie together in the sticky warmth of the afterglow, your breaths mingling. She strokes your side absently until you lift yourself up and brush away any detritus. It wouldn't be safe to linger.