Anything.

Strong cheekbones framed by the cascade of her raven-black hair, a jawline that could have been carved by a master sculptor, and skin that seemed to glow faintly, even under Gotham’s polluted sky.

Her eyes… God, her eyes. They weren’t just blue. They were oceans. Deep, fathomless, carrying storms and sunlight all at once. One look at them made his cock jackhammer in his pants. They weren’t just pretty; they were commanding.

But it was her lips that trapped him.

Full. Perfectly shaped. A natural flush of red, like ripe fruit just begging to be bitten into. They curved at the edges now, in a half-smile that wasn’t smug but wasn’t merciful either. It was the smile of someone who knew she had absolute control of the situation, of him.

He swallowed hard. His mind was screaming don’t stare, don’t stare, but what else there to look at? Her cleavage? He looked down. His balls tightened. This alone would make any man cum, no exaggeration.

Wonder Woman’s face wasn’t just beautiful. It was devastating. And here she was, inches away, close enough that he could see the way her breath ghosted over her lips, close enough that if she leaned down just a little…

His knees wobbled.

Her lips were on his. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claim. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, dominating the space, tasting him with an ancient, knowing hunger. He moaned into her, his own hands flailing for a moment before settling tentatively on the hard curves of her armored hips. The taste of her was foreign and exhilarating, like ozone and ambrosia.

As her tongue twisted with his, her gauntleted hand slid down his chest, over his frantically beating heart, and slipped inside his boxers. Her fingers wrapped around his soft dick. A low, appreciative hum resonated from her throat.

She couldn’t act as Diana. She had to be Wonder Woman. Her approach was different. She needed to be a horny warrior. A seeker of a good dick. She wanted to show something Kara certainly had not.

“A generous offering,” Wonder Woman breathed, breaking the kiss. Her eyes, gleaming like polished steel in the alleyway, held his. “Let us see what truth it holds.”

She stroked him with speed and authority that made his knees weak. Schlap, schlap! With her other hand, she uncoiled the Lasso of Truth from her hip. The golden rope seemed to gleam with its own inner light, pulsing softly. He watched, mesmerized and utterly terrified, as she looped it once, then twice around the base of his cock.

The moment the magical rope touched his skin, a surge of pure, unadulterated heaven blasted through him. It was as if every nerve ending he possessed had been suddenly supercharged, dialed to an impossible eleven. It wasn’t just the physical contact; it was the truth of it. The lasso didn’t just bind flesh; it bound desire, stripping away every inhibition, every lie, every shred of control.

“W-Wonder Woman…!” A great, big cry left him. He tried to shut up and couldn’t. His head slammed back against the brick wall as his body bowed. His hips bucked forward, thrusting himself deeper into her firm grip. His cock would have wanted her pussy but instead found the empty air. She had completely had it pointed upward.

Under the lasso’s enchantment and her skilled touch, he swelled with terrifying speed, hardening into a throbbing, veined pillar that strained against the confining gold rope.

Diana’s eyes widened a fraction, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her regal features. This wasn’t her first time seeing this cock but…it had been a while. No woman could ever be used to this thing.

“By Hera…” she whispered, her clinical curiosity instantly igniting into raw hunger.

It was too much. The truth of his ****, aching need for her, combined with the overwhelming physical stimulation, shattered any possibility of endurance. A torrent of pleasure, white-hot and absolute, exploded from his balls.

This wasn’t about premature ejaculation. The Lasso of Truth would have made any man nut. The truth was that he wanted to cum inside this chick. It was the deep desire any straight male would have. And by being in this situation, the same way she received an answer based on her question, Wonder Woman received an answer in the form of an intense orgasm.

“I’m—! I can’t—!” he choked out, a final, useless warning.

The first rope of cum shot out with the **** of a cannon, splattering across the gleaming gold of her armored chest plate with a thick, wet splat. The second pulse followed instantly, painting a stark white stripe across the red of her bodice. He came and came, each convulsive spasm wracking his entire body, his release shockingly voluminous. Thick streams arced through the air and onto her hair too. Everything was coated. Dripping from the edges of her armor, covering the royal blue with his ****, honest offering. His vision whited out at the edges, his entire world narrowing to the impossible feeling of his huge balls and releasing everything he had onto a goddess.

He slumped against the wall, panting, utterly spent and trembling. He could only stare, mortified and awed, at the mess he’d made of the Warrior Princess.

Diana looked down at the pearlescent streaks defiling her sacred armor and her hair. A miracle that the cumshots didn’t taint her face. A slow, deeply satisfied smirk spread across her lips. She brought a finger to her chest, swiped through the warmth, and brought it to her mouth, her eyes locked on his.

“A truth well told~!”

She loved it.

She didn’t release the lasso. Instead, she kept it coiled firmly around him, maintaining that hyper-sensitive, truthful connection as she slowly, deliberately, sank to her knees in the grime of the alley. The sight was surreal, blasphemous—Wonder Woman on her knees before him, her dark hair framing a face set in fierce concentration, his own spend glistening on the armor above her.

“But a first offering is merely an appetizer,” she said, her breath hot against his oversensitive tip. “Mwah!”

A kiss. She kissed a man’s cock. In the worst of man’s world, Wonder Woman took the plunge of kissing a cock. Without any further ceremony, she took the plunge of swallowing the entire, swollen head of his cock into her mouth.

The groan that ripped from him was animalistic. The lasso’s magic amplified every sensation a thousandfold. The heat of her mouth was an inferno. The slick, tight pressure of her tongue circling his crown was pure madness. Her lips formed a perfect, sinful seal around him, and she began to move.

This was not the act of a shy maiden. This was the work of a conqueror. She devoured him with a prowess that spoke of centuries of practice, her head bobbing up and down.

He didn’t cum instantly.

Her blue eyes flicked up to him. He was adapting. He was learning. He was resisting the Lasso of Truth.

In the worst of man’s world, in an alleyway that was far beneath the Princess of Themyscira, she found a man worthy of her affections. A man worthy of walking the island of women. A man who had done the impossible and resisted what was magic.

‘What a man…!’

Only seven inches of his cock had been taken.

‘What a cock…!’

She took him deep. She was Wonder Woman—and as she said, she was here to teach him something Kara could not. So by pushing herself, she toughed it out. Her nose nearly touched his pelvis. She deepthroated every fucking inch of a man’s cock—everything except for the last inch that her lasso took up.

No man in history could claim to have experienced this. All the porn in the world begged for this view, but only this pizza man in an unnamed alleyway could claim it was reality.

He felt the unyielding pressure of her Amazonian strength in the back of her throat. She sucked hard, creating a vacuum of pleasure that pulled another broken cry from him.

One of her hands fondled his heavy sac, rolling his balls with a knowing pressure, while the other remained clenched around the lasso, keeping him bound to the unbearable truth of her mouth. Her eyes, looking up at him from her kneeled position, were dark with lust and absolute power. This was her domain now. She was a warrior savoring her spoils, and she was enjoying it.

He came.

She swallowed. She swallowed like he wasn’t even cumming. There were loud gulps and everything but nothing leaked.

Wonder Woman was indeed showing levels. No one had ever swallowed every fucking millitre of his cum. No one had ever swallowed and swallowed and not dive out for air. There was no desperation. The moment the pizza guy thought he was done and could relax—

“Mmmpph!”

It wasn’t the end.

The wet, filthy sounds of her fellatio filled the alley, a stark contrast to the distant city sounds. He could only clutch at the brick behind him, his fingers scraping for purchase, as the Amazon princess serviced him with a sluttish, enthusiastic greed that he could never have imagined. Every suck, every lick, every deep-throated plunge was a promise of more.

“Again,” she was telling with those beautiful eyes of hers. She wanted him to cum again. Her eyes never left his. Up and down, she bobbed and throated his cock.

Didn’t she need air? No, it seemed not.

‘I-is this how all Amazonians are?!’ he thought wildly, his mind fraying at the edges. ‘I-I thought I was supposed to do something for her but she’s—’

With a wet, soft pop, she released him. His massive length, slick with her saliva, glistened in the dim alleyway light, twitching against the cool night air. A string of spit still connected her lower lip to his tip, and she didn’t break it, merely smiling up at him—a predator pleased with her catch.

“You have a truly impressive gift, mortal,” she murmured, her voice husky. Her fingers, still loosely holding the base of the Lasso-wrapped shaft, gave him a gentle, possessive squeeze. “A treasure. Do you regularly empty your balls?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mm. And are they as good as this?”

The Lasso of Truth compelled him. “N-no.”

“Good.”

Before he could process her words, she dove back down. But this time, her ambition was clear. She didn’t just take him into her mouth; she aimed to conquer. He watched, utterly mesmerized as inch after impossible inch disappeared into her. Her throat received his girth in a visible, undulating bulge. Only a tiny inch-long portion that had her golden lasso held around his dick stopped her from a complete, total deepthroat.

Wonder Woman. Wonder Throat.

She deepthroated, she swallowed his cum, and she deepthroated again.

She held herself there, buried to the hilt, for a long, breathtaking moment. Her eyes watered slightly from the strain, but they flashed with pure, unadulterated triumph. He could feel the incredible, constricting heat of her throat massaging his entire length, a sensation so intense it bordered on pain.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, she pulled back until just the tip remained between her lips. A ragged gasp escaped him. She merely winked.

She repeated the motion, again and again, each deep, throaty plunge more confident than the last. The initial awkwardness was gone, replaced by a slick, practiced rhythm. The sounds were lewd, wet, and glorious. This wasn’t just a blowjob; it was a display of mastery.

Her free hand, which had been massaging his balls, traveled lower. She cupped his sac, lifting the heavy weight of him, and then her tongue snaked out. It wasn’t a tentative lick. It was a broad, flat, languorous stroke from the very base of his shaft, over his taut scrotum, and back again. She nuzzled into him, inhaling his musk as if it were ambrosia, her face a mask of carnal bliss.

‘Is this really Wonder Woman?’ The thought was a distant echo. ‘The hero? The diplomat?’ The woman on her knees before him, worshiping his cock with a whorish hunger that left him dizzy, was something else entirely. A primal goddess of pleasure.

She took him deep once more, and this time, she began to hum around his shaft, the vibrations a direct, devastating **** on his sanity. The golden coils of the lasso glowed faintly, amplifying every micro-sensation, layering the physical ecstasy with a psychological imperative to be utterly, completely honest in his pleasure. He couldn't hold back if he tried.

“I’m… I’m gonna…” he choked out, his voice strangled.

She understood. Instead of pulling away, she redoubled her efforts. Her head bobbed faster. Her throat constricted tighter. Her hand on his balls squeezed gently, encouraging him, demanding his release.

The orgasm didn’t build; it detonated. A strangled cry was torn from his throat as his hips jerked involuntarily. The first shot hit the back of her throat with ****.

She didn’t flinch. She drank. Her throat worked, swallowing around him, taking his gooey essence directly into her body with a greedy, **** urgency. Pulse after pulse of his cum flooded her mouth, and she took every last one.

Wonder-fucking-Throat.

When the last shuddering aftershock finally subsided, she released him with one final, slow, sucking pull. She stayed on her knees, looking up at him. Her lips were swollen, glistening. A single, stray drop of white escaped the corner of her mouth, and her tongue darted out to catch it with practiced efficiency.

She was breathless. A faint, satisfied smile played on her lips. Her eyes, once the clear blue of a hero’s resolve, were now dark, hazy pools of pure, sated lust.

Then, with a movement so shockingly lewd it shattered the last vestige of his reality, she reached for his now-softening, slick cock. It was still enormous, even spent. She lifted its heavy weight and, with a look of possessive admiration, gave it a gentle, almost affectionate slap against her cheek.

Thwack!

It was a quiet sound, but it echoed in the silence of the alley.

Wonder Woman held it there for a moment, nuzzling into it, her eyes closing as she breathed him in. When she opened them again, her gaze was focused, hungry, and utterly, devastatingly honest.

“Mmm,” she purred, her voice thick. “A worthy offering.”

Wonder Whore. Wonder Stripper. The porno-names given to Wonder Woman were insulting, yet, in this moment, wholly accurate from the perspective of this lone pizza delivery man.