When Spidey Met Batgirl

She remembered the way he'd felt beneath her in the warehouse. She'd been too upset at the time to take it all in, but when she closed her eyes, she could recapture the moment... The stir of his cock grinding into her...

As her mind wandered, so did her hands. One sliding up to her breast, which still ached at the touch, the other snaking its way into her pajama bottoms.

"Oh god," she groaned, probing deeper. She was already wet!

Absently tracing a finger along her moist pussy lips, she felt a jolt when she came to the hard nub of her clit. With a soft moan, she pressed into herself. She was really going to have to do something about this.

*

After that first night in her shower, Betty and Peter had enjoyed a handful of encounters over that last month before she broke up with him. Their circumstances still hadn't changed. She was still living with her mom and he was still living with his aunt, and they were both juggling myriad responsibilities, so finding time alone proved just as difficult. Once they knew what they were missing, though, they were willing to make a greater effort. There had been that one night Aunt May spent in the hospital after an angina episode, when Betty slipped out of her apartment to make sure he was okay on his own. Then a week later, she took an afternoon off for a dentist appointment she ended up skipping so she could meet Peter -- who cut class for the first time in his life -- at a motel in Queens. And of course, there was that rather daring tryst in theBugle's darkroom.

On those rare instances when Peter had the time and inclination to masturbate, he usually drew from those experiences. The impish look in Betty's big brown eyes as she unbuttoned her blouse in his bedroom... his hands squeezing the dimpled cheeks of her ass as he took her from behind, her face pressed into the motel mattress, muffling her cries of passion... The pillowy warmth of her tits mashed around his cock under the darkroom's strange red light...

But for the first time in months, as Peter pleasured himself, Betty Brant wasn't on his mind. He thought of the mysterious Batgirl. The way her pretty pink lips stretched into a smile when he'd met her in her civilian identity at the library... Her warm body pressed against his as they swung through the cool Gotham night, the twin swells of her breasts burning holes in his back... And most of all, her writhing against his spandex-clad cock when she'd attacked him. Peter tried to take his time, savoring those images, but the freshness of the memories were getting the better of him, as evidenced by the beads of precum leaking from the tip of his dick. There was no way he was going to last much longer, unless...

"I couldn't sleep either," he heard someone say from the doorway.

He sat bolt upright in an instant, raising his knees in a vain attempt to hide the obscene bulge in the sheets, cursing his spider-sense. It had saved his life more times than he could count and it was invaluable in a fight, but every time he thought he'd figured out what it would warn him about and what it wouldn't, he learned he was wrong. He still hadn't trained it to protect him from total humiliation.

She'd opened the door and walked right in without him even noticing. Was this one of those weird bat-person things, or had he just been too engrossed in what he was doing?

"Batgirl?" he said, as she climbed onto the bed. "What's going on?"

"Barbara," she whispered, pushing Peter onto his back and pinning him down. "My name is Barbara."

"What about that guy you live with?" he asked.

He barely got the question out before she pressed her lips to his. Peter gasped, surprised by the hunger of her kiss. As soon as his mouth parted, he felt her tongue brush along his, playfully swirling for a moment before she pulled back.

"Well lucky for you, he's not here right now," she said, tugging at his shirt.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Peter asked in a daze as she lifted it over his head.

"Stop over-thinking it, nerd boy," she said, kissing him again. "Give me your hand."

Sucking her tongue as they kissed, Peter did as he was told. She pulled his hand up under her shirt to touch her left breast. He grasped the soft, supple flesh and squeezed, rewarded when she moaned into his mouth. Her nipple thickened against his palm. Peter couldn't resist. Breaking the kiss, he pulled her shirt up to her neck and leaned in to rub his lips against the puffy pink cap.

"Oh, that feels good," Barbara murmured, pulling his face into her breast as he sucked on the hard nub -- flicking it back and forth with his tongue. His free hand caressed her taut, toned tummy. Goosebumps rose up just as he slipped under the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She trembled when he reached the downy softness between her legs. He looked up from her tit to see her head thrown back in delight.

"Someone's all wet," he teased, drawing his finger along her glistening lips. "Wet and hot."

"Soooo hot," Barbara groaned, feeling him stroke her pussy just before his finger plunged in. Her legs twitched as he slid in and out of her balmy, damp snatch. The more he fingered her, the wetter she got, and the wetter she got, the easier he found it to finger her.

"Aw fuck," she whimpered when he drove a second digit into her, a warm feeling flushing through her as he continued this tantalizing finger-bang. She was on the verge of cumming when he started swirling his fingers within her in small, steady circles. Pushing her hips into his hand, she pulled Peter's head over to her right tit. He latched onto this new nipple, biting gently just as his thumb strummed the swollen bud of her clit just once. The shock of pain and pleasure jolted her into her burgeoning orgasm.

"Oh gawd! I'm cumming!" she squeaked, violently arching her back as Peter reluctantly pulled his mouth off her tit. "Cuh-cumming soooo hard!" Her toes curled as her commentary broke down into a series of short, panting "Oo"s and "Ah"s. She gushed over his fingers as he kept rubbing her spasming sex and she rode through rippling waves of bliss.

Eventually, her body relaxed and she flopped down on her back next to him. "You know... how pissed I've been... about you... cumming on me... in the warehouse...?" she asked in short gasps as she caught her breath.

"Uh huh," Peter said, her hands sliding down her belly to take hold of his. "Kind of hard to forget tonight, actually," he told her as she drew his sticky wet fingers to her mouth and licked away her sweet juices in a wanton display unlike anything he'd ever seen.

"I think that makes us even," she informed him when she finished.

"I'm really glad to hear you say that," Peter said, kissing his way from her neck down to her navel, "but we should definitely make sure." His trail of kisses stopped when he reached her now soiled pajama bottoms. "How attached are you to these pants?" he asked.

"I never really wear them," she confessed. "I only put them on because you were here."

"This is what passes for sexy lingerie?" he teased, tugging the elastic waistband so that it snapped back against her trembling pubis.

"I wasn't trying to turn you on, dummy," she giggled.

"Then you really fucked up," he remarked, effortlessly tearing her pants down the middle in a willful display of strength and lust. Barbara gulped in surprise as he stripped the torn trousers off her legs. He planted kisses on her freshly bared inner thighs, still sticky with her honey. He blew on her slit and she shivered when he began lapping at her pussy with big, slow licks. Barbara grabbed two fistfuls of bedding as Peter continued to tease her.

"Yesss," she hissed when he thrust his tongue into her folds. His hands slid up from her legs to her tits and he lightly grazed her nipples with his palms. Seething, she took his hands with her own, pressing them into her breasts, squeezing them in time with the beat of his tongue pushing into her pussy.

"Ooooh," she panted when he started humming into her core. Peter, spurred on by her moans, tipped his face forward so his nose brushed against her hard clit.

"T-too much," she whimpered, her head rolling side to side. "It's...ah!... That's too muh-much." He pulled back then, blowing a slow, shaky breeze. She crushed his hands to her breasts even harder. "OOOOOOOH!" she screamed, her hips bucking forward as another orgasm surged through her. He dove back into her muff, greedily sucking the fresh flow of girl-cum as Barbara worked through a toe-tingling climax.

Satisfied he'd lapped up all that he could, Peter crawled up her body as she lazily watched. He collapsed beside her and they just laid there in silence for a while, the only sound their hot, heavy breaths.

Eventually, she rolled over toward him, grabbing a corner of bedding to wipe her cream from his face. "I don't suppose you could web us up a condom, could you?" she asked, kissing him.

"That's a little beyond me," Peter confessed as she rose from the bed, her plaid pajama top falling back over her torso. The shirt hung just low enough to cover that gorgeous ass of hers, but he caught a few brief glimpses of it as she practically skipped out of the room. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'll take care of it," she said, hopping across the hall to her room. She found her utility belt and opened the backward most pouch, where Robin had stashed a box of condoms -- he said as a joke, but she knew better -- when Batman had issued her a custom costume to replace the homemade suit she'd started out with. She was sure that if Pixie Boots had ever expected her to use them, it wouldn't be for anyone but him, the smug little shit.

She ran back into the guest room and -- in an impressive feat of gymnastic ability -- somersaulted onto the bed, surprising Peter. He rose his hips as Barbara helped him out of her father's sweatpants. That's when she noticed that the impossible had happened: his erection had started to flag.

"Oh no you don't," she murmured, leaning toward his deflated dick, her mouth so close he could feel her hot breath right before she kissed the crown. Peter sighed at the soft brush of her lips on his cock right before she engulfed him in her hot, wet maw. This was something Betty had never done, and he reveled in the mind-blowing bliss of his first blowjob. Barbara pulled back, kissing the tip once more. She lightly nibbled down the side of his quickly rising erection, liberally using her tongue, before reaching his balls. She took one tenderly between her lips and gently sucked, then the other. Within seconds, he was rock hard again.

"There we go," she said, after one of his nuts slipped from her mouth with a soft pop. Peter groaned in frustration as she slipped one of the condoms over the oozing tip of his prick.

Barbara wrapped her hand around his latex-clad cock and lightly stroked as she scrambled up to straddle him. "Uhhhhh," Peter grunted, seizing her plaid-covered breasts once she'd settled on top. He squeezed, feeling her nipples swell under the flannel as she slowly fed his cock into her sex. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned her top.

"Oh --ah! -- fuck me," she whispered, sinking down on his member. He pulled her shirt open and tugged it off her shoulders and down her arms. "Fuck me,please." She had an incredible figure. Betty was in fantastic shape, but Barbara was a trained athlete and her body a finely tuned instrument. Nothing illustrated that more than the way she was riding him now. Gradually rising up and down the entire length of his shaft. Peter turned his head to the side and clenched his eyes shut, lost in the sensational rhythm. Then he felt her hands on his cheeks, her fingers shaking as she pulled him to face her again.

"Ah... oh god...look at me," she whimpered, pleading. "Juh-just -- oh! -- justlook at me."

He and Betty had never really maintained eye contact during sex. She always closed her eyes and looked off to the side as if she was embarrassed, and Peter tended to follow suit. But at Barbara's request, he looked up at her. Up past her breasts, heaving as she humped him... up past her sensual mouth, her bottom lip twisted out sideways as she bit softly down... up to her sapphire eyes which burned into his.

"Luh-look at me," she cried. Begging him. Vulnerable. And right then all thoughts and comparisons to Betty fell from his mind.

Something came over him then. He pulled her down and rolled them both over, pushing Barbara onto her back as he mounted her. She groaned as he drove his throbbing cock into her. Not so much from pleasure -- though a certain amount of pleasure was undeniable -- as much as from the shocking force as he slammed into her again and again. It wasn't quite hard enough to hurt, but it was more than she expected. She was astonished to find such raw power in such a slight frame.

"Easy, tiger," she grunted. "Be...uhn -- Be gentle."

"Sorry," Peter responded in a ragged sigh, slowing himself with visible reluctance. "I just want you so much."

She kissed him softly. "You've got me all night," she said, then kissed him again. "We don't need to rush."

At that, Peter stopped pumping all together. He just soaked in the sensation of her, losing himself in the pulse of her warm, welcoming wetness. He leaned down to kiss her neck as he finally started to withdraw his cock in a long, delicious stroke.

"Ooooh, that's right," Barbara cooed in his ear, folding her arms around his neck. "Take it slow."

Peter pushed back into her then, burying himself once more before he pulled out, just as gradually, setting a slow but deliberate pace. Barbara started shifting her hips into his thrusts. "So good," Peter moaned. At last, she was fucking him back. She wrapped her long legs around him, pulling him deeper in as she felt out a pace to counter his. In the same way they found themselves settling into a complementary series of opposing thrusts, they also settled into a harmony of gasping and groaning. Peter couldn't imagine anything sexier than the sound of this sensual sexpot writhing beneath him as their passions continued to build.

Barbara's hands fell to his ass, pulling him into her. "Deeper," she pleaded, and Peter lowered his hips, shifting his angle of penetration. "God --mmm -- yes!" she cried as he plunged into her again and again. She kissed him, the tips of their noses touching as they stared into each other's eyes.

"Oh --uhn -- I can't," Peter moaned, the flush of her silky skin against his driving him crazy with lust. "I'm --ahh -- I'm not go --huh -- going to... last much longer..."

"Oh oh... hold on..." she begged, her nipples grazing his as she pushed her chest out. "I'm close," she whimpered. "I'msoooo close..."

The tingling lurch of his balls warned Peter he wouldn't be able to wait. He'd just have to push her. Shifting all of his weight to one elbow, he thrust into her one last time, reaching down to rub her clit, pinching lightly. The reaction was almost immediate as her cunt clamped down on his cock and Barbara spiraled into creamy ecstasy again.

She went wild beneath him, squealing, "Aaaaahh GAAAWD Spider-Maaaaan!" as her body quaked and spasmed.

Peter just let out a gruff sigh of relief and release, lost to his own eruption. His cock jerked, finally blasting the pent-up spunk of his lust. Barbara could feel it inside, and tightened her legs around him, soaking in each twitch of his hard-on until it started to wither.

"Sweet Jesus," Peter groaned, pulling out, careful to ease the condom out with him. "Barbara, that wasamazing."

"Oh god," she said with a lazy sigh, snuggling in next to him after he tossed the spent rubber in a waste bin by the night stand. "You never told me your name... I just fucked you and I don't even know your real name." She buried her face in his chest in shame. "I'm such a skank..."

"It's Peter," he murmured dreamily, his face nestled in the fragrant strawberry of her hair. "And if it'll make you feel any less skanky, we can do it again tomorrow."

"Ha ha, funny boy," she purred before drifting to sleep, the slowing beat of his heart her lullaby. He drifted right after her.

CHAPTER TEN: Journey's End

Between the traffic on FDR Drive and the bickering dynamic duo in the backseat, Alfred's stiff upper lip was beginning to weaken.

The histrionics began shortly after three that morning, when Young Master Richard entered the Park Avenue penthouse in full Robin regalia accompanied by Marvel Girl of the X-Men. Apparently, the mutant superteam had joined forces with the Teen Titans to battle Doctor Light and the Juggernaut in Greenwich Village, and Master Dick had invited the bewitching young woman to the apartment for a celebratory nightcap, only to find Master Bruce similarly entertaining someone else in the living room.

They managed to play the whole thing off as two young superheroes chasing a lead that led them to the wrong place, so Miss Hardy seemed none the wiser, but Master Bruce clearly wasn't amused.

"You've completely compromised our identities," Bruce was still growling on the way to the airport.

"Oh, please! She's a telepath," Dick replied. "If she wanted to know who I was, there isn't much I could do about it."

"You brought apsychic back to my place?!" Bruce fumed. "What were you thinking?"

"Are you telling me you've never felt that post-battle adrenaline rush?!"

"No, I haven't," Bruce lied. Batman had, in fact, partaken in his fair share of Thank-God-We're-Alive sex in his day.

"Is this because she's a mutant?" Dick asked. "Because if that's your problem, you need to look into that, Bruce."

"What?" Bruce flushed, shocked by his young ward's accusation. "No, Dick!"

"So it's about the platinum blonde on the couch playing 'polish the silver' with your knob, right?" Master Richard concluded.

"This isn't about her either," Bruce said. "I'm an adult, Dick, and what I choose to do with my nights is my business."

"Oh, I see how it is," Dick seethed. "I'm old enough to draw fire in day-glow tights while you're hiding in the shadows, but I'm not old enough to bring a girl home?"

"Precisely."

"You're a real piece of work."

"Well, as soon as you're ready to put a roof over your own head, let me know, circus boy."

"Dick."

"What did you call me?" Bruce asked.

"What?" Dick said, feigning innocence. "I'm just telling you my name!"

Alfred sighed. It was going to be a long trip home.

*

It wasn't until he saw the New York City skyline fading from the view of his window seat on the 10:15 train to Gotham before Commissioner James Gordon caught his breath.

He and Captain Stacy had really tied one on the night before. So much so, that Jim had only the vaguest recollection of being introduced to one of George's former charges, Lieutenant Jean DeWolfe. He had a slightly less hazy memory of taking her back to his hotel room and what had transpired between him and the comely younger woman. Waking up in a strange bed with an unfamiliar set of legs wrapped around him, Jim looked over at the clock on the nightstand to see that he only had half an hour to get to the train station on time.

His frantic rush to dress himself woke her. "Leaving so early?" she asked.

"Sorry," he said, feeling like a louse. "I'm probably going to miss my train."

Jim watched her roll out of bed, his eyes glued to her sweaty, bouncing tits as she pulled on her shirt. "I'll drive," she told him.

It was a rough ride. The hangover didn't help, but the siren did. They made it to Penn Station with a few minutes to spare.

"I had a real nice time last night, Jimbo," she said, kissing his cheek.