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She closed her hand around the base of his prick and sucked until she felt dizzy.

“Yeah, Vicki, just like that. Keep sucking on my cock. I’m going to come… rghhh!” Bruce cried hoarsely, his prick swelling to its fullest before a geyser of white-hot cum burst into Vicki’s mouth.

Rhythmically, he released again and again, his thick slimy seed pumping from his raging cock down the girl’s throat, deep down into her hungry belly. Gagging as much as gulping, her swallows and sucking sending undulations through her creamy voluptuousness, Vicki tried to gulp down every tasty drop of Bruce’s climax.

It was impossible. There was just too much, Bruce ejaculating too hard, and so some of his delicious cum was lost. Bubbling out lewdly from the sides of Vicki’s lips, trickling down onto her full, heaving breasts. And she kept coming, as she swallowed his cum, as it was smeared on her body as if to mark his claim.

With a little whimper, Vicki got to her feet, struggling against the weight of her pregnancy and the rubbery looseness that had come with her orgasm. She was wrapped up in Bruce’s strong arms; he took care of the standing for her. He nuzzled her neck and Vicki shivered, feeling his hot lips on her creamy skin.

She was still so aroused. She couldn’t wait to feel him doing whatever he chose next, from eating her out to fucking her—she was his to do with as he pleased. And Vicki relished that. Every way he used her, every sex act, it all showed her just how much she meant to him.

“God, you do know how to suck it,” Bruce said with a throaty chuckle. “No wonder you got so far as a journalist.”

Vicki frowned, a little stung by his words, and a little turned on. She knew degradation was part and parcel of the incredible fulfillment he had to give. It would take a better woman than she was—someone as strong as Catwoman or Talia—to be fucked by him without being his whore. Oh well… she knew she wasn’t a whore, not in the conventional sense. She was Bruce’s alone; she had given up all other men. So she might be halfway a whore, but just Bruce’s whore, no one else’s.

Then all thought fled from her mind—she felt something hard press against her leg. Glancing down, she saw with a thrill that Bruce’s cock had resumed its throbbing, engorged length. It was as ready to fuck her as it had been to be throated by her.

“Ohhh, Bruce, you get so hard for me!” she purred.

“Not for you,” he told her, with a consoling pat on the head. He sat her down at the breakfast nook. “Not yet.”

“What about for me?” Harley moaned, still stuck in the doggy door. Bruce had stepped close to her and, straining, she kissed his bare foot, her puckered lips dropping down to it again and again. “It’s Harley’s turn now, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

Bruce kicked her back. “I don’t need my shoes shined right now,” he told her calmly, now stepping on her head, holding her face down to the linoleum tile with just a fraction of his weight. “But you’ll be doing plenty of that later on, believe me. And there’s no point in begging for my cock, so don’t bother—if you can restrain yourself.” He looked over at Summer. “How are my eggs coming along?”

“Eggs…?” Summer asked, raising a protective hand to cover her womb. Then she remembered the job he had given her of cooking breakfast.

The eggs had burnt in the pan, blackened all over and spilling pale smoke into the air. Summer belatedly took the pan off the burner and dropped it into the sink, then turned on the faucet and turned off the stove.

“Oops!”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Bruce said, his usual dark yet easygoing humor in place. “I can’t rightly reward you for a breakfast like that. I think that makes it Harley’s turn.” He grinned consolingly at Summer. “She’s not the best girl, but she’s good enough to be a cum dumpster.”

With that said, and a now apologetic smile directed Summer’s way, he knelt down in front of Harley. His cock thrust up from between his muscular thighs. He put both hands on top of Harley’s head, fingers nestling in her soft golden hair, and pulled her willing mouth down on to his upright erection.

“Hope ya enjoy throatin’ me, Mistah B!” Harley cried joyously, going cross-eyed as she tried to follow the cockhead approaching her mouth.

“Yes,” Bruce moaned as she took it, his cock sliding deeper and deeper into her well-trained throat. “That’s good, gooooood… my good little cock holster… finally knows her place is wherever I put my cock.”

Harley’s plump lips ran down the length of his turgid manhood. She made a meal of his prick, working her mouth down its length until her throat bulged and his girthy knob slid right into her gullet.

Bruce breathed heavily, heaving rises and falls going through his broad shoulders. His hips canted, easing forward and back, his balls swelling in gathering lust the more Harley gasped and gurgled. He rode like a cowboy in the saddle, his ass clenching as he thrust forward, going fast and hard into Harley’s accepting throat.

Cautioning herself away from making the same mistake twice, Summer held onto enough presence of mind to turn off the faucet before too much water was wasted.

***

The sun grew into a warm, heavy caress in the late afternoon, beating down on the three sun bathers like warm oil poured onto their languid bodies. Even with their misgivings, Dick and Mary were soon completely relaxed. Kara made a pitcher of pomegranate mojito, reasoning that given all the things they were old enough for, they must be old enough for a little drunkenness. Dick took the glass Kara offered him and pretended he didn’t see her drinking herself, and cajoling Mary into taking her own glass.

By three o’clock, they were all pretty tipsy. Dick found himself laughing a lot, giving into Kara’s fervent, charming attempts to amuse him. Mary seemed to sense that there was quite a lot of friendliness between them, but she couldn’t guess the nature of the bond. She just shrugged and drank her mojito and allowed the fun to wash over her.

“Wow, geez! Look at the line I’m getting,” Kara said, looking over her shoulder.

She was lying on her stomach. The tie on her bikini top had moved a little, revealing the white crease cutting across her sumptuously tanning flesh.

Without seeming even to think about it, Kara undid the strap, freeing her luscious little breasts from her bikini. She casually slipped the undone top off and dropped it down next to her, her bare cleavage pooling under her on her beach towel as she lay her face on her crossed arms.

“G-gosh!” Kara heard Mary breath excitedly.

Kara turned to face the other girl. The brunette was a few feet away, staring wide-eyed at the blonde’s exposed tits. Kara smiled, her super-vision seeing the reflection of what Mary saw in her big blue eyes. From where Mary and Dick lay, her pink nipples were hidden against the ground. But without her bikini at all in the way, it still seemed like they were seeing an awful lots of her breasts.

“Come on, Mary, it’s not like you’ve never seen a set like these before,” Kara said innocently, enjoying the mix of discomfort and exhilaration waging war inside of Mary. “You have a pretty nice pair of tits when you ‘Shazam’. Have you never wiggled out of that little dress and taken a look at yourself?”

Mary turned red all the way down to her own breasts. She shook her head. “No, not ever… I mean, never…” she stammered.

“Well then, don’t you take showers?” Kara persisted. “You’ve grown a pretty nice set all by yourself, even without lightning bolts. I’m a little jealous. Who knows—you might steal Dick away from me.”

“Oh, no, Kara… I mean, yes… I have taken showers, of course I know what I look like naked. It’s just that, you know, with Dick here and all… I just thought maybe we’d all keep our clothes on!”

“We’ve failed at that already,” Kara cooed to her. “I’m certainly not wearing clothes. I’m wearing a bi-ki-ni. What about you, Dick? Are you wearing clothes?”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Dick protested.

“Mary was the one who brought you into it,” Kara corrected him with a trilling laugh. She fixed her gaze on Mary again. “Don’t you worry about him. Dick’s seen plenty of boobs. You know who he’s married to, right? Well, more like who isn’t he married to. There’s Oracle, Black Canary, Huntress, Starfire, Troia…”

Kara kept rattling off names as Mary looked at Dick in growing disbelief—yet the way Kara said it, and the guilty blush on Dick’s face, told her it was true. Mary could only imagine the kind of orgies that resulted from such an arrangement. She couldn’t believe it, but noble, courageous Nightwing was also a ladies’ man! And he knew it, he was embarrassed by it!

Kara laughed wickedly at Dick’s sheepish grin, his helpless flush to red. “Besides,” she went on, “it’s not like I’ve got anything he’s never seen before. I may be Kryptonian, but we don’t have anything a Tamaranian or an Earther doesn’t have, do we, Dick?”

“No,” Dick said, absolutely stricken with guilt. With sweet, innocent Mary there, contrasting with Kara’s barely legal whorishness, Dick found it more wicked than ever that he’d given into Kara and fucked her, especially when he was lucky enough to enjoy the attentions of all the beautiful women Kara had listed.

“What about you, Mary?” The gorgeous blonde lifted her pert little breasts up off the ground, presenting them like a pair of ripe fruit for Mary’s inspection. The hardened nipples stuck out like pink pebbles, the surrounding flesh creamy white, utterly flawless as it sloped out in perfect symmetry to her slender torso. “Pretty much what you’ve got, right?”

“P-pretty much!” Mary gasped at the view. “You’ve got some pretty, pretty—oh, they’re so nice!” Then she became shy over what she’d blurted out. She turned her eyes downward. “I’d give anything for breasts like that,” she continued, just loud enough for Kara to hear without straining.

Kara was quick to prop the girl up. “I don’t know about that—yours look just fine to me. And you’re still young, isn’t she, Dick? She might get a bit bigger before she’s done. It doesn’t happen overnight, now does it?”

Mary whirled on Dick, flush with pleasure at Kara’s words. “Do you really think so?” Her head swiveled back to Kara. “And you think they look good now? I was always afraid that they were too big! Not my breasts, I mean, I’d love them to be bigger, but the tips… that is to say… I wish my nipples were small and, uh, elegant. Like yours are.”

Kara saw how Mary was harshly aware of Dick’s presence. It was clear that she was as desperately worried as any girl about her prettiness. Assurances from a supportive friend like Kara would only go so far. But the approval of someone like Dick—handsome, older, not threatening but so charming and sexual that it verged on dangerous—would go much further to ease Mary’s anxious mind.

“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with them,” Kara said in a bright, easy tony. “Why don’t you show us?”

“WHAT?” Mary burst out.

“Take your top off, like I did. Let us see what you’ve got.” An impish grin played over Kara’s pretty face. “You’ll get a nicer tan in the bargain.”

“B-but—Dick!” Mary croaked, gesturing wildly at the man.

“Surely you’re not worried about Nightwing. He’s a hero,” Kara assured her. “And you can bet he knows a good pair of boobs when he sees them. He can tell you for certain what men find attractive. Obviously, the man’s a connoisseur.”

Mary keened a little, pouting, so uncertain that it spilled out onto her entire begrudging posture. She was so fraught over what to do that even her pleasant nature seemed on the verge of resenting Kara for presenting her with such a quandary.

Kara pressed, wanting to end Mary’s suffering. She knew that what was best for Mary was a clean break, snapping her out of her turgid morality instead of letting her dither and be paralyzed over it for however long it took her to come to grips with what Kara was offering her.

“Come on, Mary. You’re too young to be such a prude. Have another drink and play the game with me. You only live once, after all. Why let it scare you?”

Mary shook her head—not strongly enough to be a denial, but more like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Kara’s verbal jabs about prudes and living life unafraid had obviously gotten to the girl, but she wasn’t quite ready to prove she was liberated. Not yet. But she wanted to be.

Mary took a big gulp of mojito, the drink hitting her headily—and more than a little in her own mind. “I dunno ‘bout this,” she slurred, striking Kara more as someone who wanted to be drunk than someone who was drunk.

But then, the warm afternoon sun, the abundant sexuality of the three near-naked bodies, even the gentle sloshing of the pool they were beached beside… it was all far more potent than any wine could be.