Exploring the ‘Batcave’

You were still sort of coming down from your orgasm and could only watch the writhing Batgirl awkwardly grind against her hand for a moment.

“What’s happening to me, doctor?” she groaned, locking fierce, lustful eyes with you before squeezing them shut as need trembled through her. Her calling you doctor restarted your brain and your years of experience kicked in.

“Post-ingestion hyper arousal,” you said, slightly awed, making Batgirl open her eyes again. “It’s a rare symptom of some cum addicts… really rare and hard to pick up on the tests.” You had personally known of two other cases in your entire career.

“So… swallowing cum makes me super horny,” your patient realised. “I can feel it… oh god doctor… please… you have to help me! What do I do?” She kept squirming in her pants, one hand gripping her crotch. Squeezing.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” you told her, wanting her to stay calm. “You just need to orgasm. That will help it pass.” If she could get off hard enough then the inflammation of her desire would subside, otherwise she could be in a ‘state’ for hours. Incapacitated. She nodded, your advice sounding rather wonderful, then hurriedly began to unbuckle her utility belt. She was still standing between your legs and you stared for a few seconds before realising you should probably-

“Don’t leave, Doctor,” Batgirl said urgently, pleadingly. She had already dropped her yellow belt onto the floor. “I want you to…” She took a breath and licked her lips, blushing furiously while her eyes glistened. “Can you please help me?” The girl was almost apologetic, confused as she was by her bodily reactions to her illness. Your body was reacting too.

“You’re my patient, Batgirl,” you told her, as calmly as you could. “I can… take care of you.” She smiled, already pulling down her tight pants, revealing a jet black pair of panties. She hooked her thumbs into her underwear, and dragged them down, peeling it away from her soaked pussy, and now they were bunched at her knees with the rest of the lower half of her costume. You saw her trim, reddish-brown landing strip and was a little disappointed she didn’t have a small bat symbol shaved there instead. Her bare hand, short fingernails painted black, slid down and Batgirl let out a growl as she touched herself. You looked up to see she held one of her gloves by a finger between her teeth. When she pressed her digits against her soft, swollen mound she let out another moan and the glove dropped into your lap and down slid against your dick.

“Doctor…” she sighed, widening her stance, parting her legs as much as her rushed self-exposure allowed. “Your cum made me so wet…”

She parted her lips with two fingers, her glistening pinkness very telling. Well, she was already dripping down her thighs, and the smell of her arousal tickled your nostrils. “I want to cum so bad…” and she started to finger herself in front of you. She wanted to put on a show for you. You watched her perform it, knowing that simply having an audience helped some people reach their climaxes faster. Only she didn’t quite want just an audience. There needed to be audience participation. “Can you touch me, doctor?” she asked, breathiness edging her voice. She pulled her fingers out of her, a string of thick grool hanging a sparkling trail to her needy pussy. You looked up. She was a patient on the edge of falling, wanting you to catch her. “Please?”

How could you refuse to help a superhero? You nodded and put your hand between her legs, cupping her warm mons against your palm. She groaned and gripped your arm with her damp fingers. More wetness was seeping out of her and you rubbed her tender folds, gently undulating your hand for a few seconds just to make sure she would be nice and ready. You switched to your middle finger then, feeling at her slick slit… and then you slid it into her. “Ohh… doctor…” she sighed, biting her lip. You reached for her heat, enjoying the wet friction of her walls as you worked that digit in and out. It had been a while since you fingered anyone, but you had treated patients like this before.

You explored Batgirl’s cave, a soft, hot and wet and narrow space that you couldn’t help imagining yourself stretching with more than just your finger. Those thoughts had to be pushed out of your mind, even though your erection had returned with ****(and looked like it was high-fiving her discarded yellow glove.) You felt she was ready for a second finger, in fact she probably would have taken two from the start she was so horny, and gave it to her. She firmed her grip on your arm, tensing and melting all at the same time on your knuckles. She leaked profusely, juices running down to your wrist as she enjoyed herself, as you curled your fingers and found the right spots to touch, to press into and stroke, listening to her catching breaths and feeling when she squeezed your arm tighter. “D-doc! Right there… ohhh fuck…” she moaned, listing forward, her knees now against the seat of your chair, your legs spread to give her the room. She rested her arms on your shoulders, head drooping as your curving fingers curved her spine. You felt her hot breath on your face and looked into needy, brilliant blue, questioning eyes. “Can I… can I kiss you?” she asked, breathy, quiet, almost shy, but she didn’t need to be loud when she was already so close to you. You stayed mindful and focused, making sure not to forget the rhythm of your fingering Batgirl, then tilted your head up and met her lips.

She clamped onto your mouth eagerly, her pussy doing the same around your fingers. You tasted hints of yourself as you investigated her hungry softness but soon everything became awash with her drool. Her tongue moved almost as urgently as your thick appendages did inside her. She slurped for your spit, never getting enough of your fluids, thirsting for you. Addicted. You dug in your fingers and pushed your palms against her swelled vulva, let her press herself against you with both of her leaking holes. “Hhhhhaahh!” she moaned into your mouth, then shuddered, lips still against you. She climaxed in your grip, her forearms squeezing the sides of your neck as her body seized and her joints locked. You made her ride your hand, her muscles trembling, the pressure of her clamping thighs almost putting a cramp up your arm. But you bore it. Let her writhe against you and pant on your cheek. Batgirl came all over your knuckles and so wetness landed onto the seat of your chair and onto your throbbing cock. “Ohmygooood…” she wheezed, going limp and falling onto you. She ended up almost cradled in your lap as you held her, letting the Batgirl curl against your chest, her head on your shoulder. The hero would need a minute, the immediate exhaustion that hit her basically turning her into putty in your arms. You found she barely seemed to weigh a thing.

You listened for her breathing, heard it settle, and her voice returned. “You have magic fingers, Doc,” she said happily, head still nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “Ohh. And you’re still hard… or… hard again?” In her floating, blissful state she didn’t hesitate in grasping your cock with her bare hand and you exhaled sharply. “Are you always hard?” she asked in wonderment.

“What happened?”

You raised your head to see Doctor McGee in the doorway, eyebrows high above the rims of her glasses. She saw that you had Batgirl with her pants down, resting side-saddle in your naked lap, dreamily stroking your stiff cock.

“Magic fingers,” the masked hero said, smiling.