John Jonah Jameson slumped into his chair, as sweat beads dripped off his jowls. It was a hot, muggy, and steamy Manhattan summer day. He looked rather svelte in his rather flattering checkerboard shirt and close-fitting khakis. You sit in your chair across from him in awe of this rare and spectacular specimen of man. As his sharp and beady eyes begin to gaze upon you, a remarkable warmth spreads through you. This man is like no other. You watch in awe as he gutturally clears his thick, sexy throat. “PARKER I NEED THOSE PICTURES OF SPIDER-MAN NOW! LISTEN TO ME YOU LITTLE TWINK. YOU ARE GOING TO GO OUT AND GET ME THOSE PICTURES, AND THEY ARE GOING TO BE SEXY AND BEAUTIFUL AND THEY ARE GOING TO MAKE SPIDER-MAN’S ASS LOOK HUGE!” “Y-yes sir.”, you reply, in amazement with the smooth curves of his bulging veins in his dripping neck and temple. As he places his magnificent, splendiferous, and bountiful feet onto his fine mahogany desk, you almost gasp in erotic terror. “NOW GO AND GET OUT OF HERE YOU LITTLE STRIPTEASE YOU!”, he bellows intoxicatingly. You obey, turning your back on the biggest hunka known to man and heading on your way to capture photos of the webslinger.