Vicki Vale rode Dick, but it felt like it was the other way around, the shift and tensing of his muscles driving her, bounding over his cock while she didn't have the presence of mind to do so herself. Having her name beside Bruce's in the society columns had seemed like a good way to get enough leverage to score interviews with his set, a place on his arm making her part of the gang—and he didn't care if she went behind his back with men who were large enough to at least make her regret it when they came prematurely.
But during their relationship, she never would've been so bold as to get into bed with his young ward. Her mistake. He was worth Wayne's resentment, worth getting blackballed, worth her career. With a twitch of his hip, he sent her bucking up into the air, coming back down on his cock and feeling it rush inside her, her pussy's attempts to resume anything approaching tightness when he briefly vacated her feeling like her body was in desperate denial. She was taking his cock, learning a definition of pleasure she'd never had before, being satisfied in such a way that nothing else would ever please her, and there was no going back.
"You're so big!"
Jezebel Jet felt the desk press hard into her gut, her flesh jammed against it, bent over it, the cold crisp wood and scattered papers left behind after Dick had swept the space clear. Her hands rattled at the desktop, crumpling papers, sending print-outs flying through the air as she struggled for a handhold that would make the vastness of her penetration easier to take.
She heard another grunt, the thunder before the lightning, as her overstimulated body let out a flare of sensation telling her that another inch of mammoth cock had been forced into her. Fucking Bruce Wayne had been nothing, a moment of Zen as she planned her next day, so how could his ward—though much younger—possibly be so different? She couldn't remember her schedule. She couldn't remember her own name, only the size and shape of the intrusion that seemed to be permanently expanding her sex.
Another grunt, then she felt him even deeper, in parts of her pussy she didn't even know she had. She could only think one thing. At the moment, it seemed all she would remember until she finally expired of pleasure.
"You're so much bigger than Bruce!"
Zatanna's stockings were ripped apart, clinging to her legs like broken spider-webs, while her tuxedo vest had been forced open, hanging to either side of her voluptuous breasts with the buttons scattered to the four corners. Her bra had been ripped off her, dropped in tatters into her upside-down top hat where it laid on the floor. Even her hot pants had been torn rather than removed, leaving a hole that had actually widened as she spread her legs to accommodate the cock Dick had shoved through it.
Now, her designer wardrobe all but ruined save for the bow-tie still affixed to her neck, hiding her gulping swallows, she was pinned to the wall upon a cherished vintage poster for one of her father's performances. Every battering ram thrust inside her smashed her against the poster, cracking the glass and endangering the paper inside, with only her reinforced dinner jacket protecting her flawless skin from harm.
She couldn't care. Every thrust from the sidekick satisfied her far more than the mentor ever had, in all the times she had allowed him to touch her out of friendship, the ever-lasting hope that maybe this time he'd learned how to please a woman with his body as much as with his looks.
Again she was battered against the wall, like her body feared, was fleeing the intimidating cock at work inside it. And she was afraid of how good it felt. How could she possibly go back to men like Bruce after a fucking like this? How could she possibly go back to not being fucked after this?
The poster's glass case cracked again, this time from her hand thumping against it, gloves protecting her palm as she slapped it behind herself like that could do anything to dilute the pleasure she felt. Fuck the poster. She could buy a new one on eBay.
That thought quickly receded, Zatanna losing herself in the pleasure, zoning out in pure ecstasy, but Dick brought her out of that, forced her back to consciousness with a harsh kiss. She would feel every moment of his rapturous performance. Zatanna moaned as he thrust into her again. It felt as torturous, as thrilling, as the first time.
"He never made me cum like this!" she moaned as satisfaction found her, whether she lost herself in it or not.
The feel of Dick's hard body on top of her was familiar to Talia al Ghul; he was similar in sculpting to Bruce, who Talia had lain with repeatedly in the hopes he would give her a child before finally having to rely on artificial insemination to get the job done.
But the similarities in physique ended between the legs. Where Bruce's cock was so small that she'd often wondered if he'd simply never penetrated her deeply enough to impregnate her, Dick felt like he was large enough to reach into her very womb. It almost seemed like he had, he was so deep, but Talia was aware of how painful such a thing would be and if there was one thing she wasn't feeling, it was pain.
Dick pounded her into the bed with concern only for her pleasure, every stroke and thrust of his body arousing her as much as it satisfied her. She had no idea how he could meet the lust he provoked in her, yet with every minute, he did.
He hadn't drawn the sheets back from the carefully made up bedspread before throwing her down on it, but his rigorous usage of her had already tangled the sheets around them, popped the mattress pad from its seal, rocked the pillows down to the floor. Judging from the distressed sound of the bedsprings, she would need to replace her mattress.
Somewhere in the corner of her mind, she heard wood crack. Perhaps she'd need a new bedframe as well.
Perhaps even a new floor.
Her eyes wandering, attempting to distract herself from another orgasm so overwhelming that she couldn't bear to think about it, Talia saw the wall clock.
Only two minutes had passed.
"Bruce never lasted this long!"
Poison Ivy hung from an assortment of vines, their slender coils biting into her back, her thighs, her ass as she was suspended at the perfect height for Dick's mouth to find her. He devoured her, demanded her, his tongue impossibly alive inside her, pleasing her as if it had been meant only for that. And by someone whose skill far exceeded her own; she'd made plants designed only to stimulate her, and they didn't make her come anywhere near as often, as strongly, and for as long as every soulful kiss Dick laid upon her sex.
It reminded her of how once, having designed an aphrodisiac that's actually worked on Batman, she'd made him go down on her. He was so inept at it, though, that she'd finally told him not to bother. Under the duress of the pollen, he'd admitted he'd never gone down on a woman before. When she asked him what a clitoris was, he'd stated confidently that a woman peed out of it.
She hadn't even bothered with his cock upon seeing the size of it. Even the bragging rights of having preyed upon Batman weren't worth despoiling herself for such a tiny gain. She'd get more penetration out of tribbing with Harley.
Her gynoecium tingled, blooming, Dick's tongue sunlight and summer rain and warm soil, all at once. Beyond it, her jungle sweltered, hungry to be explored. Ivy let her vines lengthen, much as Dick was doing, lowering her down. Dick had unzipped himself, but hadn't otherwise touched himself once. His cock was that hard merely from the taste of her, and the sweet sound of her cries. Coiling the vines in his hands, Dick swung her onto his cock. Ivy screamed.
"Perhaps mammals have their uses after all," she said after a long minute of yelling—the price of taking his manhood to its base. He let her huff and sigh as she became used to a length she never would've dared breed her vines to. "Just not bats."
Tightening his grip on the vines, Dick swung her again…
Silver St. Cloud shook with need even stronger than her fear. She didn't know how, but she was taking Dick's cock in her ass. Where she'd been intimidated by the thought of even vaginal intercourse, he'd made it clear he would only be satisfied with her asshole, and as his kisses, his caresses, his wonderfully filthy words piled on, she too could be satisfied with nothing less.
She'd let him finger her anus extensively; that, and a lifetime supply of lube, had made the first inch almost painless. The second inch had been bearable. The third inch had slowly coiled inside her, working in with poisonous pleasure. Then Silver lost track of how much more there was to go.
It almost made her miss Bruce. At least he would've bottomed out by now. With Dick, there was no end in sight. She seemed doomed to an eternity of this agony, this bliss, of being constantly filled and then learning there was still more room inside herself.
She'd left Bruce, telling him it was because his lifestyle was too dangerous, but if he'd had a cock like this, she would've been fine with him doing the same work while wearing bright red, yellow, and green panties. Evan Gregory had been endowed much more satisfactorily, which even made up for him now having only barely having a leg to stand on (and a hand to finger her). But Dick had two hands, and more cock than both men put together. It was in her ass like it was taking up permanent residence there.
"Oh God," she moaned, the words forced out of her like they were making room for his prick. "You have the biggest rod I've ever seen!"
"And the smallest?"
Another second's drilling left no chance of her keeping the words in. "Bruce Wayne!"
Sasha Bordeaux's knees dug into the pavement, already throbbing with the scrapes they had taken. But she didn't feel that half so much as her erect nipples scraping against the inside of the body armor she wore, trying to make a dent in the Kevlar. She simply couldn't help but be aroused by Dick's namesake, a juggernaut of a cock that loomed over her, Grayson in perfect position to run it over her face, holding her tightly still with his grip on her short, black hair.
His cock laid across her face from her hair to her jaw, and she couldn't even feel his balls without tucking her chin. Dick hummed in satisfaction as he ran his leaking glans over her face once more, Sasha's cybernetic eye glitching from him rubbing his cockhead into the cool metal.
Sasha knew she should pick the lock on her handcuffs. Even if she had consented to letting him hook her hands behind her back, the price of admission, she still should've unlocked herself just in case an attack came. As a Checkmate agent, she had to be ready for an attempt on her life in every moment of every day. But that simply didn't seem as important as the cock literally in her face.
Her nipples felt even harder, had even less room inside her bra. She wished he'd undress her, just a little, but Dick was only interested in her mouth.
Her mouth which suddenly seemed very, very small.
The hand in her hair tilted her head forward. His free hand caressed her cheek, thumb hooking in her mouth, forcing it open. His cock came down her face, the plum-sized head's touch as substantial as his hand's as it came down to find her opening. Sasha took a deep breath just before he pushed himself inside.
Dick literally filled her mouth, no room to breathe, she instinctively snorted through her nose for more air, gurgled on it as his thrust continued into her mouth like it would never stop. She could feel him on the roof of her mouth. She could feel him on her tongue, lowered to the bottom of her mandible.
Her throat fearfully constricted as he made for it, his hand on the back of her head forcing her to take more, more, more, the knob pressing into the back of her mouth, further, Sasha gagging, fitfully swallowing, as her gullet became nothing more than a passageway for his cock.
Tears burned in her eyes as she threw herself forward, straining for even more. Her pussy had never felt wetter than when she was straining at the corners of her mouth to take him. She couldn't even move her tongue, she was so full. There was nothing more she could take.
Dick petted her hair, telling her that it was alright, that it was okay, that no woman had managed to take all of it—even Julie Madison, born without a gag reflex. Then his hands tightened on her skull. Both of them. He held her still as he pumped in and out of his territory: her mouth and most of her throat. Saliva ran down her chin as if forced out by his raging thrusts, burnishing Dick's balls as they slapped against her throat. Sasha only wished she could touch herself while Dick used her mouth as nothing more than his fucktoy.
He forced her head back, giving him a better angle to fuck her throat. Sasha closed her eyes, but her cybernetic one still functioned, showing her that the base of his cock was still bereft of saliva. He felt like he was in her stomach, but she still hadn't taken him all. She watched, in merciless 4K resolution, as he brought his hand up high, then swung it down, slapping her breasts through the Checkmate chestplate.
Without any other stimulation, Sasha came. She screamed into an ejaculation that pumped directly into her belly, warmth that settled atop her pussy with the weight of an anvil. It seemed like Dick would never stop coming, and she didn't even have to swallow. She simply chugged him like a beer bong.
Finally, Dick pulled out of her, Sasha spitting out his length like a reverse sword-swallowing act. As soon as he was out, she dropped her head and the cum flowed out of her, pouring from her open throat onto the ground between her knees. The sight of his seed hitting the asphalt reminded her that she was in public, where anyone could see. A spy, leaving herself open to be caught with… well, someone's pants down, not her own.
It made her cunt sizzle.
She looked up at him, his cum on her throat, inside and out. She swallowed what she could, savoring the taste. "Bruce has never given a woman an orgasm. Ever. I'm a spy. I know these things."
"Thanks for telling me."
"Now please, put it back in? I can take more this time, I swear!"
Dick began jacking himself off. He quickly grew hard again, though he hadn't decided whether to let Sasha try to throat him—a very imprecise term, as it turned out—or to cum on her face.
Maybe he'd do both.
"Oh yes!" Selina Kyle moaned, helpless before her pleasure as Dick pumped into her. The table she was lying on shook; the leg she had up on Dick's shoulder tensed as he held it tightly, slapping her firm thigh like it was a rack of lamb. Then Diana, Princess of Themyscira, reached past Dick and twiddled Selina's clitoris, thrust out from her sex by the sheer bulge of Dick's cock inside her.
"Fuck yes!" She arched up from the table, head back, eyes closed, breasts high as an orgasm ran through her like whitewater rapids, speeding up her blood, her heartbeat, making her feel what seemed like an entire day of the most luxurious, decadent pleasure in one concentrated shot of adrenaline, zipping through it to fall back to the tabletop in a mess of sweat and satisfaction.
Coiled around Dick from behind, Diana pulled him out of Selina, then spun Selina around on the table until her head faced the couple instead of her cunt. Like she was one big roulette wheel. Then, gripping Dick's shaft as confidently as any weapon, Diana slapped it across Selina's face. The cat burglar gasped as her head drifted from side to side, now helpless to keep from imagining that big cock slapping down onto her cunt once more, pushing inside her…
"Bruce gets off on being told how inadequate he is," Selina admitted.
Her hands were wrapped in the Lasso of Truth. She'd pulled it tauter and tauter through her first four orgasms. The only thing that had kept her sane was knowing that Dick honestly was the best fuck she'd ever had. She wasn't imagining it.
"Now put it back in, please?"
"No," Diana told her, curt but compassionate. "It's my turn."
She laid down on the table, upside-down to Selina, and Dick climbed atop her. As Selina watched him fuck her, she realized she got more pleasure out of watching Diana be fucked than she did being fucked herself.
At least, when it was Bruce doing it.
Diana shouted suddenly, a war cry as she squirted, a geyser of her juices slapping against Dick's abs and her own belly. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Her head drooped to the table.
"Your turn," she said weakly, as Dick pulled out of her and lowered his cock to Selina's mouth… "And I think Bruce is rather well-hung. But then, I do come from an island populated entirely by women."
"Can't believe I thought about fucking Bats," Helena Bertinelli said. "Even I don't have enough daddy issues for that."
"Even Ollie's hung better than him," Dinah Lance opined. "Maybe I should go after Roy instead. If you can be a sidekick, maybe it's cuz you've got nothing to prove, you know?"
"I don't think I could've felt him before the Joker shot me," Barbara said.
"Can't believe I screwed him," Stephanie said. "I should've just waited for Dick to be Batman."
"Could… fist you…" Cass said. "Same… difference."
"So glad we called off the Let's Fuck The Batman contest on the Watchtower," Vixen said.
"Should've known from the wingspan," Hawkgirl said. "The bigger the wing, the bigger the thing."
"Mr. Scarface is hung better than him!" the Ventriloquist complained.
"At least Penguin just likes to watch while the vibrating umbrellas do all the work," Candy said.
"Yeah!" Tracy added. "He doesn't expect a girl to actually have somethin' like that inside her!"
"Not even creating the ultimate assassin spawn would be worth that penetration," Lady Shiva agreed.
"You think when someone tit-fucks him, they feel like they have my boobs?" Power Girl asked.
"Well, that settles it!" Mr. Mxyzptlk said proudly. "If Batman were the world's worst lover, Dick Grayson would definitely fuck all of his women while they complained about his penis size! Pay up!"
Bat-Mite handed him a fiver. "I don't know, it seemed to take an awful lot of coincidences to get us there. Like when Ra's al Ghul resurrected Vesper Fairchild just so Dick could have sex with her, or how Dick getting high on that alien drug with Starfire prompted him to have sex with Vicki Vale!"
"What are you saying, that I cheated?"
"No, no, no! Just that there seemed to be a lot of extenuating circumstances in this universe we created besides Bruce Wayne having a tiny penis!"
"Oh, no!" Mr. Mxyzptlk cried. "The point is settled! We have definitively proved that—wait, why were we doing this again?"
"I think I said someone like even if Bruce Wayne were the worst lover in the world, Dick Grayson wouldn't have sex with all of his partners. And you said he would."
"How the flarn did that come up in conversation?" Mr. Mxyzptlk demanded. "What kind of sick shit were you spewing at me!"
"I don't know, you were the one who wanted to make it a bet."
"Ah, who cares? Point is, I win! Now let's get the fuck out of here, this universe is disturbing as hell."
"We should make a new one, free of all this weird, convoluted plotting you did—I mean, that happened. And this time, maybe Batman is the world's best lover! And he's the leader of the Justice League, and everyone looks up to him, and even the Joker is the best villain ever because Batman is the best hero ever!" Bat-Mite proclaimed.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We should make Superman and Wonder Woman fuck, too. That'd be hot!"
"Uh, okay. And there are other Batmen all over the world—"
"And all the heroes have lines on their costume! That'd be hot!"