Bat-Blow-Job

"You just have to say yes," you murmur, your voice a low, husky promise as your hand moves with a deliberate rhythm along your length. Amusement dances in your eyes as Batwoman's defiance begins to waver, her pupils dilating with a tell-tale hunger.

At first, she fights it, clinging desperately to the remnants of her composure. Her jaw tightens, and she forces her gaze away, but her resolve falters. Her eyes are drawn back, almost magnetically, to the sight of your cock, the pull too strong to resist. Her breaths quicken, each one shallower than the last, her chest rising and falling in a futile effort to regain control.

The struggle is brief.

As the seconds tick by, her focus sharpens, the battle between willpower and instinct tipping irrevocably in your favour. Her eyes drink in every detail, lingering on the subtle veins tracing your shaft, the taut skin that seems to beckon her. A wave of heat surges through her, spreading like wildfire, igniting a hunger she can no longer ignore.

Her lips part slightly, her breaths uneven. A flush creeps across her face, and the damp sheen of anticipation glistens on her skin. Through the cutout in her costume, her hardened nipples press against the fabric, aching, visible evidence of her unravelling restraint.

Her tongue darts across her lips, an **** gesture betraying her growing need. She leans forward, hesitant at first, her face mere inches from your cock. The scent of your arousal reaches her, musky and intoxicating, overwhelming her last defences.

Then, she moves.

Her puckering ruby-red lips, they brush the tip of your penis, soft as a whisper, and the electric jolt of contact sends a shudder through both of you. A low groan escapes your throat as her warm breath washes over your skin. For a brief moment, her gaze flickers upward, her eyes meeting yours. You catch a flash of hesitation—uncertainty at the line she's just crossed—but it quickly gives way to something far more primal: rapt fascination.

She lingers there, her lips parting further as she draws in a slow breath, savouring the moment. And then, with deliberate care, she wraps her mouth around your cock, her movements tentative yet eager.

Her initial efforts are unpractised, a soft exploration as she tests the boundaries of her newfound desire. Her lips glide over your shaft, hesitant but thorough, while her tongue swirls tentatively against the sensitive tip. Her hands join the effort, cupping your balls with a gentle touch, kneading them in time with the growing rhythm of her mouth.

With each passing second, her movements grow more assured, her hesitancy fading into instinctive determination. Her head begins to bob, taking you deeper with every motion, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you completely. The suction intensifies, her tongue finding sensitive spots that make your breath hitch.

The sensation is overwhelming, an intoxicating mix of heat, pressure, and skill as she works to draw every ounce of pleasure from you. Her gaze flickers upward again, seeking your reaction, the hunger in her eyes deepening as she sees the effect she’s having on you.

Her rhythm steadies, each motion deliberate and precise, her desperation now replaced with focused intent. The combination of her mouth, her tongue, and her hands sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building relentlessly toward your climax.