Claiming the Batwoman... and her girlfriend.

Brandon, it turned out, was not Batwoman. While she had a body honed by years of crime-fighting and endless training, he was just a guy who worked on his feet all day. Keeping pace with her as she raced along rooftops was not easy. His saving grace was the amulet. Batwoman leapt from building to building, but stopped every few steps to rub her nearly-naked body. From street level it only looked like she was brooding, at least to the men who noticed her, but Brandon knew the truth. By running full-tilt he barely managed to catch up with her time and again, getting his wind back for a second or two before she took off. They crossed four blocks this way as she raced without an opponent and he without a destination, tearing through and over Gotham while men gawked and women ignored them.

He also learned something important: when women ignored him, that also meant female drivers. He was extra-careful crossing the street after the first time.

Finally she dropped into an alleyway, and Brandon just saw her cape as it slipped into a building and a window slid shut behind her. After an intense fit of wheezing he dragged a trash can over to a fire escape and climbed his way up to the seventh floor, a welcome cool-down for his burning lungs. When he reached the window he pried it open and climbed inside, finding himself in a normal apartment, fairly mundane except for the diplomas on the wall and the nearly-naked women making out on the couch.

“Mmm, wait. Wait.” The woman on the bottom pushed Batwoman off of her, holding her just a few inches away. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Batwoman cupped the other woman’s face with her bare hand, running a thumb over her cheekbone. “Are your instincts telling you something, Officer Montoya?”

A smile broke out over Brandon’s face. He knew Renee Montoya, one of the policewomen who had helped arrest the nude Legion of Doom. She had become something of a sensation as one of the rare females on the **** during the night the heroes stripped in public, and he recalled some online chatter wishing she had joined them. And now he had her right in front of him, wearing nothing but a tee shirt and panties, getting felt up by Batwoman as part of an apparent lesbian tryst? His clothes hit her carpet before she even finished speaking. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having you over. But taking off your suit outside and sneaking into my apartment naked is a little much.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Batwoman replied, and once she started suckling Montoya’s neck the officer was too busy to ask more questions. The amulet took hold of her—or she just wanted to get closer—and she snuck off her clothes while Batwoman’s groping grew more and more daring. Montoya laughed as she rubbed her partner’s back, humming and pushing her chest gently upward, and Batwoman nuzzled her cheek until she turned for a kiss.

Brandon’s heart ached; he had never imagined Gotham’s dark savior could be so utterly, unabashedly cute. He could have sat and watched for hours, and they would have let him, if the amulet’s demand for masturbation could be satisfied by normal sex. But he had a duty to perform. He sat on the couch behind them, pushed their writhing legs out of the way to make room, and rubbed his cock along Batwoman’s moist lips.

Batwoman backed into him, but only to slide down Montoya’s body to lap at her nipples with slow, wet feathering. As he pushed into the oblivious superhero’s pussy, he nudged her cape out of the way so he could watch the girl-on-girl action continue. The new position also freed the Dark Knight’s chest, and he enthusiastically kneaded one of the top five racks in the Justice League. He had always thought it a shame that Batwoman and her circle tended to wear so much more clothing than the other women, and his opinion only intensified when he had seen just how much flesh she hid behind the logo on her chest. He smacked her fat tits so hard they bounced long after he let them go to grab her ass and pound her harder, rutting her with as much **** as his hips could manage.

Montoya stretched out on the couch and laid a hand on Batwoman’s head, caressing her through the mask. She never looked at Brandon, not even when he spanked her girlfriend right in front of her. She focused entirely on the romantic attentions the amulet allowed her to notice, not the naked man she’d never met humping on her couch. Brandon stared directly at her, using the arousal in her face as fuel for his aching thighs. His balls tightened for the third time that night, and he grabbed Batwoman’s shoulders and pulled himself into her as deep as he could get. He knew she likely had some level of defense against him, given her renowned skill at planning for every occasion, but for now he satisfied himself with pumping his hometown’s greatest hero full of sticky white sperm.

A hollowness struck as he pulled out, and he thought he knew the source. Fucking Harley and Batgirl had given him such a rush, and fucking Batwoman hadn’t, specifically because he thought she was on protection. Nervousness no longer plagued him. He wanted to knock up the entire Justice League, to fill every one of those fertile bellies with children they could never trace to him. After a few rounds of breeding sex, he wanted more, and Batwoman wasn’t cutting it. He would have to find a way to get rid of her safeguards. In the meantime, he had another idea. He stood and tugged on the women until they moved, still thinking they acted under their own volition. When he had Batwoman sitting on the sofa and Montoya in her lap, he pulled the officer’s naked ass to Batwoman’s knees. While looking the Dark Knight right in the eyes, he crouched behind Montoya and slid his cock inside her.

Batwoman didn’t look back at him. She closed her eyes and pecked her girlfriend’s lips, a delicate side she never showed when throwing criminals into dumpsters. Her hands held Montoya’s sides, massaging her lower back muscles and accidentally holding her in place so Brandon didn’t jar her loose. He squeezed Montoya’s breasts until skin poked through his fingers, using them as handholds. Her panting grew in waves, the result of stimulation far beyond what simple kissing and fondling could provide. Despite his exhaustion he **** himself to continue, holding Montoya’s soft, dark body tight against his chest. His balls ached and his legs throbbed, but he had started this and he intended to finish it. What finally pushed him over the edge was picturing the inevitable conversation when the lesbian police officer told her girlfriend she was pregnant with no idea who the father was, a conversation he intended to cause. With a gasp more like a whimper he shot the last of his cum into her, envisioning his seed taking hold inside her womb, and the moment his orgasm ended he fell back to the floor with a dull thump.

The women continued without him, though Montoya kept trying to move from simple making out to heavy petting. Dollops of white oozed between their thighs, and Brandon crossed his fingers. Two superheroines down, plus one ally and one supervillain, and he hadn’t even started his first day.

His first day! He searched the room for a clock. 2:14 in the morning. Didn’t he have to be at work by eight? He dressed as he stumbled toward the window, then thought better of the climb down and went to the front door instead. His body screamed at him for the late hour, the race through Gotham, and of course for the vigor it took to fuck four women in one night. If he was lucky, he might be able to get three or four hours of sleep before he started his new job. Hopefully the allure of being surrounded by the planet’s hottest, most unattainable women would give him the energy he needed to power through the day. Though, even if they didn’t, he planned to have many, many more chances.