Marry The Knight Ch. 18

It was a slow night and Zinda found herself standing around with nothing to do. The Birds of Prey were on a mission in Old Gotham, but they didn't need a pilot, so she was stuck at home, babysitting Blackfire in her isolation cell. Even Barbara was going off to hack into a physically isolated computer system from her battle van.

Zinda couldn't help thinking about Dick and how wonderful it would be to be in bed with him. The other girls were fun, but that was just it: fun. She couldn't help it, a generational thing, but she thought of Dick as the real deal. Maybe not her husband in the conventional sense, but certainly the closest thing to one she could possibly stand. Whatever she and Dinah and Helena did—and they did—Dick just felt so much more real. She imagined his wonderful thick cock sliding into her... and felt an agitated buzz in the crotch of her panties.

Now you've done it, she thought. All primed for take-off and no runway available.

To take her mind off everything, she went to the kitchen and started washing some dishes for the others. The fact that she was acting as the stereotypical forties housewife while wearing her skirted black costume, right down to the cap tilted rakishly on her blonde head, was not lost on her. Maybe that was why, irresistibly, her thoughts drifted back to Dick and his fantastic lovemaking. She could hardly wait until he got home and climbed into bed with her.

She was so lost in her horny fantasy that she forgot the world around her.

From behind, somebody slipped their hand up her skirt.

Zinda gasped and straightened up from the sink. Deft fingertips tickled deliciously over her wet pussy, inching up to her clit for a delicious moment of pressure. She lost control in that moment, thrusting her hips up to meet that probing finger, feeling it slip the barest degree into her famished sex. She moaned softly.

Then she came to her senses. Her mind was fast enough to go two place simultaneously. The first was thinking that if this weren't her husband Dick Grayson, then someone was in for one royal ass-whooping. The second was that this touch could only be him.

Still, she jerked her hips so that his finger slipped out of her cunt. She was a good girl, and a little ashamed of how aroused she'd gotten just from feeling his finger some. She blushed furiously and started to turn around, but he pushed forward with his body, shouldering her so she stayed in place. In fact, he bent her forward, over the sink, and pulled up her skirt.

Everybody wants to do that. "You at least bring me flowers, flyboy?"

"Better." She felt his cockhead nudge against the ripe curve of her left buttock, then his harsh breath on the back of her neck as he bent forward to sling her panties down her legs. "You're wet enough for it."

Zinda bit her lip. Oh hell—if you couldn't be a slut with your husband, when could you? "I'll say this for you, ya don't keep a gal waitin'!"

He lined himself up with her passage, preparing to thrust, but she suddenly clenched her buttocks and straightened, denying him. Zinda heard him growl in distress, barely able to handle the delay.

"Waitin' too much, that is."

"Flowers," Dick promised her. "And a steak dinner, first chance I get."

Zinda moaned submissively and waved her ass at him. Even if it was her right, she couldn't punish him too long. If the other girls got home, there'd be a feeding frenzy. Right now, she had him all to herself...

"Do it to me, Dick. Do it!"

The sight of Zinda's round ass waving him on, curtained and partially obscured by the skirt that was pulled up over it, had the same effect on Dick that a red flag has on a bull. He guided the engorged head of his cock between her shapely buttocks and found himself in the heat of her wet slit, momentarily overwhelmed by it, forced to savor those first few hints of her tightness, her warmth, the embrace she offered his manhood. Then he was equally unable to resist the urge to slide deep into her hot cunt.

"Uh, baby!"

It was what Dick had been dying for ever since he finished fucking Misfit. For a moment, he thought he was going to come right then. But he got a hold of himself. Even in his delirium, he wanted Zinda to enjoy this. It was what got him off most, hearing a beautiful woman like this, who could have any man she wanted, thanking God that she had him.

He drove his cock into her in long, even strokes.

Zinda felt like she was being born again. It'd been so long and this was so good. Her whole body vibrated with pleasure as Dick worked his steady pace in and out of her trembling pussy. She felt so depraved, bent over the goddamn sink like a slutty maid carrying on an affair, wagging her ass at him, begging him to impale her on his cock. She was shaking so hard with excitement that she was sure she would have fallen to her knees if she hadn't had the sink to hold her up.

"It's good, Dick! Ohhh... it's sooooo good!"

Dick thought Lady Blackhawk had never looked or sounded more beautiful. It was like Zinda was right in the same space he was, needing it as bad as he did. For all her barhopping, skirt-wearing reputation, she'd never done anything as provocative as begging him to fuck her—a freak in the streets but a lady in the sheets. Now her taut asscheeks were moving with feverish enthusiasm—the movements of a woman who needed his cum sizzling inside her.

He clutched her rich, sleek flesh and kneaded it with his fingers while his cock glided in and out of her sex, gleaming with evidence of her arousal. She clenched herself around his cock and his shaft ached with pleasure as it fought through her tightness. Each time he shoved himself into her cunt, Dick asked himself how he could ever have thought fucking Zinda was some kind of chore. She was a beautiful woman. A great fuck.

"You're so goddamned beautiful," he husked out, seeing the rough words billow into Zinda's hair, part it into golden threads. "I love you. I love fucking you. Zinda baby..."

His voice did something to the woman. She began to writhe and moan even more frantically than before. She was submerged in the heated atmosphere of Dick's lust. Her husband loved her, he wanted her, thought her beautiful and desirable. That was exactly what Zinda wanted to hear, exactly what was needed to take all her impulses toward control and modesty and turn them into raw need.

"I love fucking you too!" Zinda moaned, her cap slipping down over her eyes as she responded eagerly to his thrusts. "You have such a wonderful cock! It fills me up so nice!"

Even wrapped up in the sensory overload of fucking Zinda from behind, Dick understood the extent of her arousal. She had gone a long time without the intense, satisfying sex she craved. Her body was trembling before him, filling with need. Her cunt was clasping his cock with sheer hunger. He aimed to satisfy it, fucking her faster and deeper.

He was beginning to appreciate the depth of the goldmine he had just discovered. As good as Barbara and Kory and Helena were, there was something special about Zinda's sexual curiosity, her old-fashioned mores coupled with new-fangled liberation, a mixture of well-honed knowledge and almost virginal willingness. He had thought he'd learned everything there was to know about Zinda, sexually, on their first fuck, that she was just another warm body Barbara had piled on him. Only now was he coming to realize how much more there was to know, the depth of experience he had almost allowed to escape them.

"God, Zinda, never let me forget how much I love you! Promise me that! I'm your husband! Never stop being my wife!"

"Oh yes, Dick! Yes! Yes!"

Tears started to flow down Zinda's cheeks. She felt a little embarrassed; this wasn't the time for tears. She was bent over the kitchen sink with her husband's cock deep inside her. So maybe it was. Maybe this was what she'd always wanted. To fly, to fight, but also to have someone waiting for her when she came home—someone as unashamed, as shameless, as she had ever been.

Her pussy spasmed around his member. It was ready to be his.

"Oh, lord, Dick, I'm coming! Y'all are makin' me come!"

Watching her ass squirm and clench as she rode her climax out like a rough landing in a beat-up plane, Dick felt a raw lust seize him. It was ripping the cum straight out of his balls, intense and pure, headed straight for Zinda's cunt.

"I'm with you, Zinda! Get ready for the flood!"

Zinda seemed to realize what was happening all at once. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes focusing and staring into his face. Then, quickly, she elbowed him back. His prick slipped from her sex and she whirled around, dropping onto her knees and gripping it in her hand.

"Ah've always wanted t' try this!" she cried, her accent thickening into a slur.

She squeezed him tight, milking him in her fist. And the two of them watched as a long jet of cum spurted up her face and into her hair, actually strong enough to knock her hat from her head. She tugged on the cock as if she wanted to pull it up by the roots. And another milky helping shot free.

"Yes! Shoot it! Oh yes!" she cooed, watching his jism dribble down over her fingers. "Shoot out all your lovely fuel!"

He gazed down at his gushing cock. He watched it spurt out one last jet of semen onto her face. "So sticky," she smiled, the dregs of his cum still pouring out over her fingers.

Then his cock began firming again, seeming to pull Zinda's hand to it, over it like a magnet. Helplessly, she stroked it in her fist and watched as it got even bigger, even harder. Zinda's mouth fell open, just as a dollop of Dick's seed ran down over her lips.

"I think I'd best get into something more comfortable," Zinda said, gulping, and swallowing more than the lump that had appeared in her throat. "Like my birthday suit."

"No," Dick told her, and his cock thrummed powerfully in her grip. "Leave it on. Leave it all on."

***

Stumbling if not limping, Talia and Nyssa made their way out of the factory, Batman in-between them. Talia consented to lean on him in her struggle to stay upright, while Nyssa stubbornly refused. Still, Batman was quick with a steadying hand to make sure she didn't fall over, tired as she was.

Ivy watched all this with an air of disbelief. It had been an hour since her pheromones had taken over and in that time, an eighteen-wheeler had pulled up, masked workmen had secured the wreckage of the Batmobile, and a new one—driven by autopilot no doubt—had shown up to wait patiently, nearly invisible in an alleyway.

As Bruce and the two women approached it, the car's cockpit slid back. The operation was quiet, so smooth as to nearly be unnoticeable, and so didn't serve to jar Nyssa awake as she finally lost consciousness. Bruce caught up, scooping her up in his strong arms.

Talia didn't fall out of her lean against him, but when he straightened, it was obvious that Talia had fallen asleep against his shoulder. Bruce wrapped an arm around her midsection, cradling Nyssa in the other as easily as a child, and almost effortlessly escorted the two women into the backseat of the Batmobile. There, they slumped into the deepest, easiest sleep Ivy had ever seen, pulling tightly to one another as their exhaustion caught up with them.

Bruce pulled an emergency blanket from one of the many compartments inside the cockpit and threw it over them, tucking the edges under their bodies with mild complaint from the otherwise comatose women. But finally, they were tucked in, beyond motionless as Bruce secured them both with seatbelts, then pulled cargo netting down over them. Ivy wondered if the crash of his previous vehicle had made him paranoid. Didn't seem possible for him to get more so.

"Are you coming?" Bruce asked into the night, and though he didn't direct his gaze or hearing her direction in the slightest, Ivy knew he was speaking to her.

She sauntered out of the darkness, heedlessly showing off her body. She didn't feel so proud of it, not after seeing Talia and Nyssa unclothed, but she was determined to project a haughty arrogance nonetheless. "You seem to have your hands full already."

"Is it my hands you're interested in?"

Ivy was agog a moment—she couldn't help but think of how he had handled Talia and Nyssa, handled both of them at once, and each of them a warrior who made Harley look like one of the Riddler's henchmen.

Bruce chopping his hand on the passenger seat in a curt gesture snapped Ivy out of it. "I need a ride," she said, trying to sound dismissive, but the double meaning struck her afterward and ruined her cool. Nevertheless, she went to get into the passenger seat, making a production of slinging a long leg over the frame and descending down into the seat.

Bruce smoothly vaulted over his side of the Batmobile, dismounting ably into the driver's seat, and the canopy slid down to seal them in like a tomb. With its opaque glass over them, the interior of the Batmobile was suddenly cramped, claustrophobic—intimate.

Ivy felt as if she were in a greenhouse, the warmth and light undeniable, almost forcing her to grow. Swell.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

She had fucked Batman.

***

Bruce was all too aware of Ivy's body next to him in the car. She'd made no effort to pull her skirt down when she got into the Batmobile. Her soft thighs were visible nearly to her crotch, while her hugely billowing tits gave ample evidence that she did not wear a bra under the vines that covered her, sweeping from her waist to either dangle down her legs or circle her neck in a halter.

From the look of things, he'd be willing to bet that she wasn't wearing any panties either. Could she have grown fresh plants to clothe herself? Perhaps she'd worn nothing at all when she'd followed him to this factory, interfering in al Ghul's ambush.

Despite his discipline, provocative thoughts brought stirring life to Bruce's cock. He knew he was tensing up, knew his manhood was beginning to swell painfully... but perhaps that wasn't a problem.

She had, after all, saved his life.

Ivy laughed suddenly, shrilly. "It's funny. I was just beginning to think there were two men in the world worth any time. Bruce Wayne and Batman. Of course, you'd turn out to be one and the same."

Bruce broke the silence like he was chiseling away with a hammer. "I didn't get the impression that you found me so interesting when you were trying to kill me."

"Which time? When you were Batman or Bruce?"

Ivy took a hairbrush out from where it was holstered in the vines girdling her hips. She dragged it through her wealth of rusty red hair.

Her blasé act struck Bruce as challenging. "I've only ever been Bruce Wayne."

"Well then, trying to kill you was just business. Like when you chopped down all those trees."

"Wayne Enterprises is one of the most eco-friendly companies in America."

Ivy pretended obliviousness. "And as for Batman, he kept getting in my way. Taking me off to Arkham. Though I suppose now it's obvious what you really wanted to do. So I guess I should be grateful you didn't." A volley of smooth, straight hair fell before her face, released from her comb. "Or maybe I should be upset you didn't get to it sooner."

"Maybe I don't believe in premarital sex," Bruce taunted.

Ivy looked around the cockpit, eyeing her reflection in the canopy's darkly tinted glass. "It's quite an experience to be in here with no handcuffs. Makes it seem more spacious. Do you keep change in here for the toll?"

Her red polished nails scraped over the console, teasingly probing the buttons in her way before she got to the gearshift, fondling it playfully. Bruce kept his eyes on the road. She moved on, going to the compartment between their seats and opening it up. She fingered inside until she found a pack of gum. Bringing it to her lips like a pack of cigarettes, she mouthed one stick of gum out, unwrapped it with her tongue, and sucked the stick in. Then she carefully folded the wrapper and dropped it pointedly to the floor.

When she'd touched the gearshift, he'd wished that she'd pull her skirt down.

Ivy could tell these things. The skirt was nearly up to her waist now.

"Something for Robin?"

"For anyone who likes having good breath."

"You didn't ever offer me one on my way to Arkham."

"Your breath was fine."

Ivy smacked her lips. "I hear that this latest Robin is your kid. That you had him with one of them back there." She blew a bubble, popped it, swallowed it. "Of course, if they haven't had your kid yet, I'm sure they will now..."

"What would you know about that?" Bruce asked, eyes glancing over to her in an iota of interest.

Ivy smiled into his attention. "Ra's and I've been in the same circles. A team-up, you might say. But it didn't last. More of a one-night stand." Ivy smiled. "Guess it is two men who interest me. And guess you do believe in premarital sex."

"Talia and I are married."

Ivy took the revelation without much notice. Easily, she said "Do you and your wife fuck a lot?"

"Did it look like we needed practice?" Despite himself, Bruce could feel his face redden slightly.

"You don't. Not a lot. I know you don't. You missed your exit. Collard Drive's the quickest way back to the manor."

"We're not taking Collard Drive." Bruce glanced over his shoulder to check the traffic. No one following him, or even seeming to notice the silent specter of the Batmobile prowling the night. Good. He liked it that way.

"Mmm. That cave." Ivy had been there on a few occasions, for detainment or interrogation the police couldn't be trusted with. She hadn't been sitting up front for those trips. "I've always wondered how you get to it. You haven't had enough cunt lately. I can tell."

Ivy smiled, resting her crimson hair on the headrest, staring at the older man.

"I've had you."

"Not enough of me." Ivy's legs parted. "Not enough for either of us."

Bruce was all too conscious of the condition that throbbed unforgivingly in his pants. He twitched in the driver's seat.

Now Ivy shrugged and gave a knowing little smile. "Even with all you're getting, you're too uptight. You've got a hard-on. You've had a hard-on ever since you laid eyes on me."

"I've had a hard-on ever since Talia and Nyssa opened their legs to me."

"They couldn't handle it. I can." Without warning, Ivy reached over and touched the bulge in his trousers. "I can handle it right now."

The touch was like striking a match in a room full of gas. She left her hand on the throbbing mountain of his desire, not teasing him, not caressing, merely leaving the contact open. Ivy's eyes were locked on his face; the intensity was something he could feel. She seemed to be asking something... and receiving silent answers.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fuck the Batman. And I guess I can live with Bruce Wayne. We are married, after all." She glanced over her shoulder out the rear window, then ahead of them. "Keep driving."

She had some plan, obviously. Her actions were unmistakable. Through a haze of suspicion and growing heat, Bruce felt her hand leave his lap and begin fumbling with his belt.

"I know it's booby-trapped," Ivy said. "But I've gotten very good at taking it off. Let's see..."

She unfastened it. A second later his zipper scraped, and her knowledgeable hand released his heavily throbbing cock from the confines of his underwear. He groaned deep in his throat. "Secondary trap system... goes off if you try to take the belt from my body."

"I know. You always worry about being disarmed. Never what someone could do... just by touching you." She stroked him a couple of times. "You're going to stay on top of Harley. In every sense of the word. I want her well-fucked, well-fed, and given everything her heart desires. I can't make her kiss my foot, but you can. And you're going to keep her so busy down there she'll never even think of the Joker."