Marry The Beyond update (Patreon)

Barbara Gordon sat at her kitchen table, drinking her third cup of coffee. It was nearly noon, but she was still only wearing her sheer silk robe and a pair of slippers. She hadn’t been fired as police commissioner, oh no, not at all. But the mayor’s office was starting to suggest she hire some more assistants to help her out, lieutenants to share the load. She knew that was beginning of the end. They’d take more and more of the load until there was nothing left for her to do but show up and hold press conferences. Then, they’d get jealous of her doing even that.

Although well into middle age, Barbara was still a supremely beautiful woman, with clear eyes, a full sensual mouth, and a coif of dignified silver hair that was almost as striking as the blazing red had once been. But it wasn’t her face that men noticed first. Her breasts were rolling hills of flesh that billowed out strongly from her body. They drew admiring stares from men and women alike, and had given pleasure to more of both than she could remember.

But now, her sex life was practically nonexistent. She had once enjoyed fucking her co-workers, friends, her husband, even the children of some old friends now that they were old enough to vote. But now that she was being pushed out of the commissioner’s office, she had started keeping to herself and avoiding company. Despite her affairs stretching back from recent months to her teen years as Batgirl, she’d started doubting that men still found her attractive. She wished she could give some hot-blooded young man a raging hard-on, just to prove to herself that she hadn’t entirely left sex behind.

There was a buzz on the intercom, the unit floating up to her to display audiovisual of her would-be guest. She recognized her visitor. It was Terry, Bruce’s new lapdog. “Mrs. Gordon? Are you up yet?”

“Yeah, you might as well come on up.”

Moments later, the bullet elevator had deposited him at her front step. Terry—a tall, strapping, gorgeous kid—was wearing dark clothes under that brown jacket of his he never seemed to go anywhere without. Barbara guessed she’d been pretty particular about fashion when she was his age too.

Arms folded, Terry leaned against the kitchen door. His heavy-lidded eyes subtly took in Barbara’s curves, as revealed by her clinging robe. “Tell me about the old man and Harley Quinn.”

“He’d hit a woman and she’d hit back. What else is there to tell?”

“I had an interesting run-in with the Deedees earlier. They were under the impression that there was a thing between Harley and Bruce.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. Neither was she. It wouldn’t surprise me if Harleen’s memories are a bit mixed up. With all the Smilex and Joker venom and crappy make-up she’s had over the years, she probably thinks she is Batman half the time. Amazes me the twins turned out as well as they did.” Off Terry’s look, she said “Ten fingers and ten toes a piece.”

Terry looked around, looking a bit recriminating that he’d brought this to her. Yeah, he wasn’t Batman, not yet. The old man had never had much use for remorse. Let alone shame. “Schway place you have here. Nice view.”

Acutely aware of Terry’s muscular arms and chest, Barbara shot a quick glance out the window. “I do alright for myself. So does my husband.”

“Where is he, anyway? I spent the whole ride here thinking up an excuse to see you.”

“Out of town on business. Doing alright for himself.” Sam, like her, didn’t have much use for monogamy. Unlike her, he had no doubts about his sexual prowess. Probably buried knee-deep in some co-ed, like she should be… “Can I get you something? Coffee? Orange juice?”

“Orange juice.” Terry pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.

Barbara could feel his eyes on her as she moved to pour him a glass. As she leaned across the table to hand it to him, her breasts pushed at the front of her robe, and Barbara felt his eyes there as well. He took the glass from her and Barbara sat down beside him. 

“There is one thing,” Barbara said.

“I’m all ears.” Terry tilted his glass of orange juice, his eyes never leaving her breasts.

“Gotham isn’t like other towns. At least, it didn’t use to be. It was very weird.”

“It’s not exactly normal right now.”

“This was different,” Barbara said firmly. “We may not have had gene splicing or cyborgs, but there was this… energy. I don’t go in for hocus-pocus, but it was like the veil between this and whatever really was stretched thin. Lotta mumbo jumbo. Occult stuff. Even dad noticed it.”

“So?” Terry asked, taking another drink.

“This was before they closed Arkham Asylum down. There was always something fishy about that place. How could there not be? And with crazies like Harley, the chatter was that they really could see things. Other places, other times—dreams, hallucinations, visions, whatever you want to call them. Alternate timelines, possible futures, who knows? I’ve got enough problems with what people do in this reality without worrying about what they’d do if a butterfly flapped its wings in China.”

“Yet you brought it up,” Terry said. 

“I remember one time, she started having this delusion that she and Catwoman and Poison Ivy were all married to Batman… who was really Bruce Wayne. That somehow he’d arranged a pardon for them all, so long as they joined his harem. Hit a bit close to home, but after they adjusted her medication, she lost the plot. I dismissed it as just a stopped clock being right twice a day; after that she started thinking Prince was both Batman and the Joker. Who knew?”

He shifted in his chair, and Barbara realized that he was probably getting an erection. “But you think it’s possible that in some other dimension, they all reformed just because Bruce got all Mormon with them?”

Sitting there beside him with her knee nearly touching his, Barbara felt just as aroused. Conscious now of the growing bulge between his legs, she was finding it hard to control her breathing. “Kid, anything’s possible. In those days, Arkham was nothing to write home about. So if someone gave those women genuine care and affection, maybe they really could’ve gotten their acts together. Sex is a powerful thing. And Bruce was…”

The memory just made it worse, and her pussy already felt wet. She wanted Terry badly, but couldn’t make the first move, not when he could reject her as too old for him.

“Bruce was very manly,” Barbara finished. And then again, if she were too old for him, why was he getting a hard-on? “Are you?”

Terry laughed nervously and took another sip. “I, ah, haven’t heard any complaints.”

“And how many critics have there been?” 

Now he outright blushed. “Not that many.”

“Really?” She sat back in a show of surprise, her breasts jiggling as her back impacted with the chair. She could see his eyes flicking up and down to follow them. “That’s a shame. When I was your age, you were exactly the type of guy I would’ve gone for.”

“It’s not that—I have a girlfriend. She’s never complained. So I must be doing something right.”

“You certainly must be. Does she have big tits?”

Terry blushed and shrugged his shoulders. “They’re alright.”

“’Alright’ isn’t big. You like big tits like mine. I know because you’ve been staring at them all this time.”

Too embarrassed to speak, Terry sat motionlessly. 

“Isn’t that right?” Barbara persisted. “Haven’t you been staring at my tits?”

Terry shrugged again, seeing the motion mirrored in his empty glass. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Gordon.”

“It’s all right.” She leaned forward and touched his arm reassuringly. “Really, it’s completely all right. I’m actually a little flattered.”

“You are?”

“Yes—at my age, you don’t get many young men with stiff cocks in your presence.” Looking deep into his eyes, Barbara squared her shoulders and let the front of her dressing gown fall open. “Maybe I can help you with that.”

“With what?”

Barbara pulled the lapels of her gown further apart to show Terry even more of her breasts. “With that stiff cock. And you can help me with my big tits.” She threw the dressing down completely open, baring all of her magnificent cleavage. “Go ahead. Touch them.”

Terry’s eyes almost bugged out of his skull. Slowly rising to his feet, he took a step toward Barbara. But then he stopped, unsure of himself, and held his hands far afield of her naked breasts.

With her gown hanging open, Barbara cupped her breasts in her hands and caressed them invitingly, lifting them up as if offering them to Terry.

“Don’t be shy,” she whispered. “I’m trying to help you.”

And just like that, his strong young hands had seized her naked breasts. 

Barbara let out a soft moan through her gently parted lips, closing her eyes in rapture. She lets his hands wander over the billowing curves of her full breasts, his touch warm and thorough. When his trembling fingers brushed her nipples, they tingled with desire, swelling to a new stiffness.

As his hands continued to stroke and caress her lush cleavage, Barbara reached up, unbuckled his belt, and undid his fly.

“What’re you doing?” Terry asked hoarsely.

“Making you more comfortable,” Barbara said. “There’s not a lot of room in there for all that hard cock.”

Barbara pulled down his trousers and his underwear in one motion. His erect cock bobbed free. Allowing his pants to fall around his ankles, Barbara wrapped her fingers around the enormous prick. It appeared to be eight inches long, but was still only semi-hard, spongy to the touch. He was getting bigger and harder as Barbara gently stroked his length

“Come a little closer,” she said, giving his cock a playful tug.

Terry stepped out of his pants, now standing between her bare legs. Barbara lifted her breast in her left hand and rubbed the engorged nipple against Terry’s cockhead. The heat of his arousal burned against her sensitive areola, and like dynamite it set off a surprisingly heated shudder of pleasure inside of Barbara. His prick stiffened in her hand, a tiny droplet of precum oozing out onto her ruddy nipple.

“Holy shit,” Terry groaned, trembling helplessly in contrast to his pointedly firm dick. “Barbara, you’re going to drive me crazy!”

Barbara hummed in appreciation. Staring down at his prick, she lifted her huge breasts and enveloped the throbbing member in their pillowy flesh. With his cock pressed between her tits, she eased her chest slowly up and down. 

She knew that Terry would love the exquisite intensity of fucking her breasts. The skin there was even more smooth than the rest of her silken body, and the sweat that had covered her body as he gazed hotly at her made her cleavage as slick as a warm pussy.

“Fuck, Barbara!” he gasped. “This is incredible!” He was rocking back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of her full breasts. “Fucking incredible!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it—and I can tell how much you’re enjoying it.”

She wasn’t lying. Barbara had become an old-fashioned woman as she’d grown old. She was surprisingly eager to give pleasure to men, but she rarely demanded it for herself. It was enough to know that she was wanted, desired, and dominant enough to make them come for her despite her age.

“Nnnnnnnnrh!” Terry cried out. “I’m gonna come!”

“Yes,” Barbara said. “I’m ready for it. Come for me!”

“But it’ll get all over you.”

“Good!” Barbara laughed. “I love it! I want it all over me!”

She heaved back and forth, jerking her tits over Terry’s manhood. He grunted and threw back his head.

“Fuck!” he shouted. “I’m coming!”

“Yes!” Barbara gasped. “Yesyesyessssss!”

The tip of his member erupted in her cleavage, shooting out a thick glob of his semen that splashed against her throat and chin. More gushed from his throbbing length, spurting onto her chest and between her tits, the glowing seed running down over her belly. When at last she lowered her rounded breasts, releasing his still-hard cock from between them, the entire front of her body was gleaming with his white-hot cum.

“Good God,” she panted, “you came like a horse in heat. I’ve never seen such a load in my life.”

Sliding her hand down over her drenched body, she actually found herself moaning as she rubbed his warm jizz into her creamy skin.

“You earned it,” Terry sighed, wiping his brow. “That was really something.”

“Was it? Did I really turn you on?”

“Hell yeah,” Terry said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman with tits like yours before.”

“Thank you,” Barbara said, eyes bright. 

Terry’s thick cock was hanging down between his legs, still somewhat erect. She lifted it delicately with her fingertips and rubbed on the speckled tip like it was a genie’s lamp.

“No, let me really thank you.”

Bending down to him, she tipped back her head and took his length inside her mouth, savoring the salty flavor of his cum on every inch of his shaft. Terry actually growled deep in his throat, easing his body forward so his cock went deeper into Barbara’s mouth.

She sucked it hard, swirling her tongue against the throbbing head that tasted strong of his musky seed no matter how many times she lapped at it. After barely a minute, she felt his cock rising and hardening again, not that it had gone down much even with all the semen he had pumped out of it. As the half-hard prick regained every bit of its former glory—if not getting even bigger than before—Barbara worked her lips back and forth along the shaft, finding more inches to throat with every pump she made on it.

Finally, at a loss for words and oxygen, Barbara withdrew from his groin and held the enormous prick straight up in front of her. Ten inches, it had to be—the spitting image of Bruce’s weapon. He could’ve been the man’s son or something. And she licked it the same way she had Bruce’s.

“Jesus Christ,” Terry muttered, clenching his fists and circling his neck as Barbara’s hot tongue flashed over the tip of his prick, his glans, the throbbing veins that covered his cock like police tape around something dangerous. He groaned in deference to just how hard she was licking at him—like he was a lollipop and she was determined to get to the center.

Barbara panted in reply. She loved the taste of his cock. She loved having him in her power even more. She didn’t even care that he had marked her, so long as it was with his cum, young, hot, virile cum. All for her. Only for her…

After traveling the length of his fat cock with her tongue several times, Barbara pursed her moist red lips around the purple knob and sucked hard. What she tasted now wasn’t his cooling cum, but a tangy drop of fresh precum, and her taste buds tingled with anticipation as she imagined her mouth being full of the savory taste.

Then, taking her mouth off his cock and letting it rise up over her, she dipped her head down and kissed his balls, the crinkly pubic hair tickling her nose as she did so. Her tongue lashed over the softly wrinkled skin of his scrotum, teasing out the hard testes within, while she kept pumping his cock in her hand. It strained insistently, and she felt new drops of precum falling down into her hair.

She didn’t want his balls, though, she wanted his cock. She sat up straight and took his knob into her mouth again.

“Motherfucker!” Terry gasped. Jamming his fingers into Barbara’s silvery hair to hold her head in place, he jerked forward, cramming even more of his cock into her mouth. Barbara took it obligingly, even now following the Batman’s unspoken orders, letting him into her throat and sucking him as she fondled his hairy balls, pumped the base of his shaft. Her head jerked back and forth as she took his thrusts clear into her throat.

Although it was his second orgasm, Barbara didn’t have to wait long for it. After brief but intense minutes of him hilting his rock-hard cock in her gullet, she felt his shuddering and tensing up, his balls heaving against her chin. Barbara worked even harder to blow him while she still could, upping the tempo of her sucking and stroking. Her mouth, her hands, her eyes—they were all full of his cock.

Terry moaned, groaned. He thrust himself forward desperately, Barbara clinging to his cock as she sucked its length hungrily, every inch that traveled into her mouth and down her throat. He was practically grunting like a caveman, in rhythm with her sucking, helpless to resist her while inside her wonderfully skilled mouth.

Barbara heard him cry out, his body stiff, and he came again. A flood of hot jizz filled her mouth, splattering against her throat—she swallowed it to keep from gagging. She’d barely gulped before he filled her mouth with more gushing heat, and more, and more, until she couldn’t swallow anymore and her mouth was full to overflowing. Strands of the semen escaped the corners of her mouth and trickled down her chin.

Even after he had shot all of his load and his prick had begun to go flaccid, Barbara kept his cock in her mouth. She waited until he was completely drained, completely sated, and then she let it slip out from between her lips. It still looked hard to her, but her heart was hammering so fast that she didn’t know if she could take going for a third round. 

She gazed fondly up at his flushed face, the sweat covering it making her think of the cum congealing on her own skin. “How was that?” she asked, with a rich grin.

“Schway,” Terry groaned.

“Good. That’s what I was going for.”

Barbara leaned back in her chair and closed up the front of her robe. Terry took the hint. He backed up and pulled his pants on again, zipping the fly and fastening the belt. When he was dressed again, he looked down at Barbara. 

“Can… can I come back and see you again?”

“We’ll see,” she said, her circumspect nature seeming ridiculous with his cum dripping off of her, coating the very throat she was speaking to him with. “Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” she added as a fat drop of semen fell from her chin.

“I won’t,” Terry said seriously, though the half-grin at the corner of his mouth showed his amusement. 

Barbara supposed she couldn’t deny him that.

She certainly hadn’t denied him anything else.

***

For the whole of the last year, Deirdre and Delia had been crazy about Batman. No one knew why. Among the Jokerz they’d fucked and sucked up a storm with anyone and everyone. But Batman was clearly the gold standard. The crème de la crème. 

Maybe it was because he was so indifferent to them, representing a challenge they couldn’t resist. With their sexual natures and beautiful bodies, and the literal multiplying factor of there being two of them, they could have any guy they wanted. Batman was the exception, so they wanted him. But he was out and out cold to them, until yesterday, when they’d broken down his reserve.

Now, full of his cum and the memories of their time with him, the Deedees slept in their bunk bed, the lower bunk vacant as always. Cuddled together in nothing but their matching boxer shorts and mismatched Batman T-shirts, Deirdre dreamt of the date they’d made, while Delia imagined their wedding.

She wondered if it still counted as a double wedding if three people were getting married.

Even if they had been awake, they probably wouldn’t have noticed the viscous black fluid pouring out of the air vent high on the ceiling, dripping to the ground in a puddle that grew slow and steady. It was an old building. Something was always breaking down. In the absence of any foul odor, they’d dismiss it as the air conditioning acting up, and yell at Nana Harley to get it fixed while not budging from their VR or video games.

If they were awake.

But eventually, even an easily distracted pair like the Deedees would’ve noticed that the dribbling liquid wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t even slacking off. It had formed a virtual lake in the middle of the floor, one that oddly didn’t soak into the carpet. One that now congealed, a curvingly human form rising up from the puddle in reverse of the stealthy drips and drops from . before.

It stopped at six feet tall, an exaggerated caricature of a woman’s figure, shining black except for a white moon where the face might’ve been on this abstraction of femininity.

The moon did what moons did. It went through phases.

Changing, shifting, unveiling, the slender figure filled out as a face emerged from that milky whiteness. Out of the black came shades of purple, further outlining the womanly silhouette—38-24-36. As the transformation ended, the woman tossed her head in a practiced gesture, settling her liquid form into hair atop her pale face, a thin streak of purple displayed in the black. The off-color note added a touch of imperfection to her otherwise pristine face, and if either Deirdre or Delia were awake, they would’ve found it quite appealing.

They weren’t awake. 

So much the better.

Inque drew the covers back from the two girls, who huddled together closer in its absence, as if Inque’s very presence radiated a cold draft. Inque reached down to their tawny legs, running her fingertips over the outside of their thighs where one set of legs wrapped around another. Then she reached into their panties, her fingers steepling together, becoming long, thin tendrils of fluid probing.

Delia’s eyes shot open.

Deirdre’s did too.

“Well, well,” Inque said. “The two of you are full of it. Cum, that is. I guess all that bullshit you posted about having a threesome with the Batman isn’t bullshit at all.”

Delia’s eyes rolled back in her head, lips curling around the gasps she expelled as Inque’s tentacle continued searching through the folds of her pussy. Her hips jerked and twitched, driving herself into Deirdre, and she felt her clit buzz as she rubbed it against her chin. She couldn’t hear what Inque was saying. She just knew that this felt good.

Deirdre was slightly more focused. She’d been dreaming of wedding cake when she woke up, not being fucked. “What do you… want with us?” she hissed out, her voice tiny indeed, as if having to escape the notice of the tentacle trawling inside her.

“I want you to take me to him,” Inque said. “Assuming you were good enough for him to want a second go.”

“So good…” Delia murmured.

“What’s in it for us?” Deirdre asked, struggling to stay focused with Delia humping her leg and Inque invading her sex.

“In it? I’m in it,” Inque said. “I’m in both of you, and you can either enjoy that, or you can not.”

“Not?” Delia asked dreamily. “Not what?”

“Let me put this in terms you might better understand,” Inque said, before her liquid form grew a massive erection at its groin. “Bend over, both of you. I have an object lesson in some of the many reasons you should do what I say…”

She licked her lips then, her tongue a foot long.