Having sex with Bulletgirl

A month has passed since you summoned Bulletgirl into your world. Since then, the two of you have grown far closer than you ever imagined possible.

Susan spends her days soaring above Crestview City, her Gravity Regulator Helmet glinting in the sunlight as she delivers justice to muggers, **** dealers, and petty thieves. She drops them off at the police station with a smirk, her boots clicking against the pavement as she flies away, leaving the officers in awe.

Meanwhile, you serve as her secret sidekick, her man in the chair. You gather intel using the internet, track criminals, and feed her information through the earpiece she wears beneath her helmet. It’s a partnership that feels natural, almost meant to be.

One evening, after another day of crime-fighting, you and Susan are finally alone in your apartment. The city hums outside your window, but inside, the air is thick with tension, anticipation, and the unspoken desire that has been building between you for weeks. She stands by the window, the fading light of dusk casting a golden glow over her costume. The red of her shirt clings to her chest, the yellow of her tights hugs the curves of her thick thighs, and the blue of her gloves and boots contrasts sharply with her fair skin. She is the very image of a superheroine from the golden age, and yet here she is, in your apartment, in your time.

"You look beautiful this evening," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. It’s the truth, though. She does look gorgeous tonight, more radiant than usual, if that’s even possible. The way the light catches the sweat on her skin, the way her brown hair curls slightly at the ends from a day beneath the helmet, and the way her lips part just a little as she turns to face you.

Bulletgirl grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Flirting with a married woman behind her husband’s back?" she teases, her voice dripping with playful accusation. "Aren’t you a shameless rogue?"

Your face flushes red, the heat rising to your cheeks. "I... I wasn’t flirting," you stammer, though the words feel flimsy even to you. "I was just complimenting you."

She smirks, stepping closer, her hips swaying slightly with each movement. "It’s okay," she purrs. "Bulletman... Jim isn’t here tonight." Her voice drops to a whisper, laced with something dark and thrilling. "He’ll never know."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. She’s married, a superheroine from 1940, married to a man who was once her partner in every sense of the word. And yet, here she is, offering you something forbidden, something lustful, and that only makes it more intoxicating.

She pulls you into a kiss, and for a single, breathless moment, you hesitate. Then your lips crash against hers, and all hesitation melts away. Her mouth is warm and demanding, and you respond with a hunger you didn’t know you possessed. Your tongue meets hers, twisting and exploring, tasting the faint saltiness of her tongue and the sweetness of her saliva. She moans softly into your mouth, her hands sliding up to tangle in your hair as she deepens the kiss. It’s lustful, the way your tongues wrestle, the way her breath hitches when you bite down gently on her lower lip. You’ve never kissed anyone like this before, so hungrily, so desperately, so passionately.

She pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Mmm, you’re a quick learner." Then she’s kissing you again, her hands roaming down your back and pulling you flush against her. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her costume, the press of her breasts against your chest. It’s almost too much.

Susan leads you to the bedroom, her fingers intertwined with yours, and the two of you tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. The kiss never breaks, not even as you sink into the mattress. When she finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure she can hear it. The fact that she’s a married woman, a superheroine from another era, makes this moment feel even more forbidden, more electric.

She gently pushes you onto your back, her body hovering over yours. "You’ve never had sex before, have you?" she asks, her grin wicked, her eyes dark with lust.

You swallow hard, your throat dry. "No," you admit, the truth spilling out of you. "This is my first time."

Susan’s grin widens, and there’s something mischievous in it. "Then let me lead you." Her hands move to your jeans, her fingers deft as she unzips them and pulls them down your hips. Your underwear follows, and your cock springs free, hard and throbbing, the dark brown shaft standing out starkly against your skin.

"Whoa," Bulletgirl breathes, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of you. She wraps her hand around your length, her fingers barely able to close around your girth. "You’re huge." Her thumb traces the vein running along the underside of your penis, and you shudder at the touch. "Both in length and girth." She glances up at you, her expression a mix of shock and delight. "Jim... Bulletman was half your size. I had no idea you were packing this in your pants."

A surge of pride courses through you. Jim Barr, or Bulletman, was a white All-American superhero from 1940, the golden boy of his time. And you? You’re a brown Muslim from 2026, lying beneath his wife, her hand stroking your cock as she marvels at how much bigger you are than him. The interracial contrast is hard to ignore: her pale skin, your darker tone, the way her fingers look wrapped around your manhood. And the fact that she’s married, that she’s cheating on him with you, only makes it hotter. The taboo of it all, adultery, cuckolding, raceplay, sends a thrill through your body.

"Ah!" you moan as Susan leans down, her lips brushing against the tip of your cock. She flicks her tongue out, lapping at the bead of precum glistening there, her experienced mouth working you with a skill that makes your toes curl. "Fuck, Susan..." you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily.

She pulls back, her lips glistening, and grins up at you. "I want you inside me," she says, her voice husky with need. She pats your cock affectionately before sliding her own panties down her thighs, revealing her perfect pussy, natural and unshaven. The brown pubic hair is just like you would expect from a married white woman from the 1940s. It’s real, untouched by modern artificial beauty standards, and the sight of it makes your cock twitch.

She straddles you, her thighs, thick and powerful from years of flying and fighting, squeezing around your hips. You watch, mesmerized, as she guides your brown dick to her entrance. She’s wet, soaking, her arousal dripping down your shaft as she begins to lower herself onto you. Inch by inch, she takes you in, her tight cunt stretching around your girth. The sensation is unreal: warm, slick, perfect. When she finally bottoms out, your full length buried inside her, you both groan in unison.

And that is how you lose your virginity to Susan Kent-Barr, a married superheroine.

"Ah! It feels so good!" Susan moans, her head falling back as she adjusts to your size, your dick throbbing inside her. "Fuck, you’re filling me up..."

"Better than Jim?" you can’t help but tease her about her husband, a smirk tugging at your lips even as pleasure clouds your mind.

Bulletgirl grins down at you, her expression shameless and wanton. "Way better than Jim," she admits, her hips beginning to roll in slow, deliberate circles. The thought of her husband, of his smaller cock, of his inability to satisfy her like this, only seems to turn her on more. "He never made me feel this full..." she pants, her nails digging into your chest as she starts to ride you in earnest, clearly enjoying the taboo aspect of having sex with a man who isn’t her husband. A brown Muslim man from the future.

Her thick thighs do most of the work, lifting and lowering her onto your cock with a rhythm that leaves you gasping. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cries out, her voice growing louder, more ****. You’re both so loud the neighbors would hear if they were paying attention. But you don’t care. Let them hear. Let them know that Bulletgirl, the legendary superheroine, a married woman, is riding your cock like a woman possessed.

The pleasure is indescribable, a white-hot fire burning through your veins. You grip her hips, your fingers digging into the soft flesh as you thrust up into her, meeting her movements with your own. "Fuck, Susan... I’m not gonna last..." you groan, your balls tightening, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.

"Come inside me," she demands, her voice a low, needy growl. "I want to feel you filling me up. I want your seed..." The words send you over the edge. The taboo of it, the idea of impregnating a married superheroine, of claiming her in a way her husband never could, pushes you to the brink.

"I’m coming!" you shout, your cock jerking violently inside her as you erupt, thick spurts of hot cum pumping deep into her womb. Susan throws her head back, a keening cry tearing from her throat. "Oh God! I can feel your semen going inside my womb!" Her cunt clenches around you, milking your balls dry, her walls tightening to hold your penis in place as she takes every last drop. The thought of your fertile cum flooding her, of the possibility that it might take root, that she might carry your child and not Jim’s, sends another wave of pleasure crashing through you.

By the time you’re both spent, you’re a trembling, sweaty mess, completely drained in every sense of the word. Bulletgirl collapses onto your chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "That was incredible," she murmurs, pressing a tender, soft kiss to your lips. "We have to do it again sometime."

You smile, already feeling your cock stirring back to life at the thought. "How about a little later?" you suggest, your voice rough with desire. "We don’t have to stop at just once tonight."

Susan grins, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "All right. We’ll do it again... as many times as we can." And true to her word, you end up fucking a dozen times that night, each round as **** and lustful as the last. And it is only the first of many nights like this to come.

As you finally drift off to sleep, your body aching in the best way, you don’t yet know the truth: one of your sperm has already found its mark. Deep inside her, your seed has taken root. And in forty weeks, something wonderful will come of it.