The Superboy Shuffle 5 (Patreon)

Lucy rutted and writhed unrelentingly, working her little ass until she had all of Kon’s prick. And Kon was happy to give it to her, finding every fat inch embraced by the syrupy warmth inside her. Rao, super-pussy was right! If someone whose only reaction to yellow sun radiation was getting a tan tried this, they’d be out a penis right now.

Now Lucy grabbed Kon’s shoulders and wantonly pumped her hips up and down, fucking her slit back and forth on his manhood so that its clenched gates throttled every inch of his length in turn.

“HNNN! Nice!” Kon’s hands idly tested the resilience of Lucy’s big, trembling breasts. They were heavy, yet moved about under his touch as lightly as whipped cream. How did tits do that—be firm and soft all at once?

As if to ponder the quandary, Kon dropped his head to the pillow and lay there to absorb Lucy’s fucking, feeling his aching member get a continuous massage from her buttery sex. Thankfully, Lucy didn’t seem to want much more from him than his hardness—and Kon was hardly in a position to deny her that. He couldn’t get soft any more than a parking meter could.

“FUCK MEEEE, Ultraboy!” The bed groaned and splintered, clearly not up to the trial it was going through as Lucy worked her hips faster and faster, grunting each time she impaled herself on her lover’s endowment. “My pussy’s gonna go off! Oh God, I’m gonna come!”

Still, Kon could hardly just lay there. It wasn’t very heroic. And if Lucy was going to come just by taking a ride on his mechanical bull, she’d probably have multiples if he actually made an effort. His doppelganger would probably appreciate having a reputation for that.

Kon flung his hips upward, bouncing Lucy on his cock, undulating his lower body so quickly that he dove into her as her body fell into his lap. Within a few strokes Lucy had bent to his rhythm and even tried to go faster, Kon panting as he struggled to keep up the pace of his lust-crazed girl.

“Gonna come, Ultraboy!” Lucy could feel the racing heat deep up her cunt—with Kon tripping in and out of her so rapidly, it felt like he was striking a match inside her. “Coming now, I’m coming! Keep fucking me, Ultraboy! Harder! Faster! Show me how ultra you are! I WANNA SEE HOW ULTRA YOU ARE!”

“Oh shit, here it is, babe!” Kon grunted. He grimaced as his balls clenched like they were caught inside a squeezing fist. “Here’s the Super, girl!”

He threw his body upwards like he was trying to vault off the bed and Lucy was the only thing holding him down. His quaking hard-on slammed deep into her sex. She squealed happily, acting like she was riding a roller coaster while his seed came splashing out of his hairy balls to flood her velvety slit.

Lucy’s eyes crossed woozily. She always came when her boy shot inside her, and when her boy had a lot of cum for her, she came a lot. Her inner muscles roiled to milk all the jizz they could from her Ultraboy.

“God, I needed that,” Lucy sighed, shuddering, running a hand over Kon’s chest—smooth except for the striations where one bulging muscle met another. “Ever since I took out that boatload of refugees, I’ve just been so damn horny! It’s a good thing you gave me that fuck before I had to hunt you down and ride you in the streets.”

Kon’s eyes, closed in comfortable satiation, opened warily. “Boatload of refugees?”

“Yeah,” Lucy cooed happily, burrowing under his arm. “I was pretty busy fighting some of Luthor’s damn freedom fighters, so I almost missed out and let Sea King have all the fun.” She giggled. “But I managed to kill one of the heroes by throwing him into another, so I got to the boat barely a minute late. It’s so funny how people try to skip from one territory to another. I almost think we should let ‘em get away with it, it’s so funny, but who wants to miss out on eradicating them? Fucking refugees.”

Sea King… Ultraboy… this was all starting to sound pretty familiar to Kon. He hadn’t paid much attention to Robin’s endless briefings about this alien planet he might find himself on or that alternate reality, but his interest might’ve gone in the direction of Lois Lane in a kinky bondage outfit. Who knew Mrs. Superman was built like that? And ever since Knockout, Kon’d held a certain affection for evil chicks. They simply screwed, well, exactly like Lucy had just screwed.

And Earth-3… that was the planet of the evil chicks.

Damn. Why did the nasty ones always have genocidal tendencies too? Kon knew Amazons were supposed to be pretty kinky, but he’d ended up dating an honorary Amazon. Maybe he should move to Gotham. Sure, he’d be living in Gotham, but at least all the women would be bisexual freaks in some kind of fetishwear.

Lucy tweaked one of his nipples and then leaned down to kiss it. “I could use a drink,” she said.

“Coke or Sprite?” Kon asked.

“Jack,” Lucy replied, her springy voice combining with the drink order to kick him into remembering she wasn’t the sweet, innocent Lucy Lane he knew. “And on the rocks.”

“I haven’t figured out the polar breath yet,” Kon told her.

“So get some from the machine, dummy.”

“Okay,” Kon said, rolling out of bed and grabbing up the cleanest clothes he could find on the floor that weren’t Lucy’s. “I’ll get you some ice and some… jack…”

“Good boy,” she cooed to him. “Guess I won’t have to spank you later, huh?”

Kon dressed in pants and underwear—underwear on the inside, despite one-half of his DNA—and pondered the ethics of screwing an evil villain’s brains out. He was usually all for it. How else did bad girls turn good without some handsome, charming guy using positive reinforcement on them? Captain Atom had done it and he was the original stick-in-the-mud.

But these Earth-3 people… they weren’t just evil, they were… well… assholes. Total pricks about serving the Dark Lord or whatever evil scheme they were up to, and they were always up to something. And they’d won! They ruled the world! A crappy, evil world, but they oppressed everyone and killed almosteveryone. Lucy was hot, sure, he’d absolutely make kissy-face with her back on his nice, normal world. But if she were a Nazi on Earth-Nazi, then… probably not?

No, absolutely not, that would make him a Nazi lover. Being a Nazi lover was as bad as being a Nazi… but wait, wasn’t that their line? They’d believe something like being a Jew lover made you as bad as a Jew; shouldn’t he be more tolerant than a Nazi? Of course Kon was more tolerant than a Nazi! What kind of douche wasn’t?

So it’d be hypocritical of him to refrain from screwing a Nazi, or a Nazi equivalent from a distinctly non-Nationalist-Socialist universe, under the fascist notion that it was bad to associate with minorities, whether they be Jews or supervillains, right? Wait, was that right? He didn’t think Superman would screw a Nazi, but that guy had turned Maxima down. For the greatest superhero ever, he could be a real schmuck at times…

Barefoot and shirtless, Kon didn’t realize he was at the door until he bumped into it. Outside, it was rainy as hell. He hoped the rain wasn’t acid or urine or whatever evil people would put in their rain. Not that his own Earth had entirely benign rain; at least in Los Angeles. Maybe he should stay away from LA, and not just when it rained.

Well, he probably wouldn’t find a drink for Lucy outside. He turned to his X-ray vision, scouring the estate for a refrigerator or liquor cabinet. Almost immediately, he saw a woman in one hell of an outfit. An all-black one-piece of skintight leather with a lightning bolt-shaped cut-out between ample breasts, yellow lace tinting the cleavage within the color of gold. Elbow-length gloves and fishnet stockings—down to high-heeled boots—balanced out the intimidating heft of black leather on her torso, while leaving luscious slices of bare flesh at her thighs and shoulders. Garters connected her stockings to what really looked like a corset built into her dominatrix outfit.

Kon wondered what kind of freak would wear that under her clothes.

Then he stopped X-raying her and saw those were her clothes.

“Kon!” she cried. “There you are! You couldn’t show up when I needed someone to go with me to the mass execution, but you can find time to sleep in? It’s the middle of the day, asshole! What the fuck have you been doing to make you so tired? It certainly hasn’t been me, shit-for-brains!”

Kon’s mind went totally numb—not from being harangued, but from suddenly recognizing her by voice. Mary Marvel! How was he supposed to recognize her when usually she dressed like Supergirl at her purest, and now she was dressed like… Supergirl during one of her skanky angst phases?

Her voice was loud and it made Kon blush. He couldn’t remember ever having blushed in his life, even when Mighty Endowed had fallen on top of him. Sweet, innocent Mary Marvel was talking about fucking—not even in a cutesy, Katy Perry sorta way—and with him! And here he was, trying to remember what age she was back on his planet. Because she had to be the same age here, right?

He knew she’d started out young, but she’d been around for a while… before him, even, but she did that thing where she lightning-bolted from little girl to big girl, so… ahhh… she had to be at least the same age as Captain Marvel Jr, right? How could you be in the Marvel Family and be younger than Captain Marvel Junior?

And he was old enough to buy beer that one time in Keystone City. He had bought it legally, right? Or had he just gone in as CM3, asked for a keg of beer, hell, maybe even gotten it for free because he kept saving the world?

Oh, why the hell did these damn gas station employees not check IDs to make sure people were of proper drinking age? Didn’t they know how important that work was to society at large? Kon might’ve gone for some not-strictly-speaking legal nookie now and then—though he was the jailbait in those scenarios—but he wasn’t some Green Lantern!

And Superman wasn’t some morally gray Guardian of the Universe who let Sinestro bumble around being named Sinestro and having the evilest moustache ever! Superman would hunt Kon down like he’d hunted Supergirl down and asked her about the micro skirt. And she’d looked good in that micro skirt!

At that moment, the door behind Kon opened.

With Kon’s shirt on over her otherwise bare body, Lucy Lane stumbled out into the hall. “You’d better hurry, stud. If mommy doesn’t get her drinkie, she’ll sober up too much to let you put it in my… Mary!?”

“Lucy!” Mary stared at the Ultraboy-logoed shirt, which was big on her, but not around her full bust. Her ample breasts protruding, nipples stiffening through the fabric. She whirled on Kon. “You’re fucking my best friend?”

Kon shrugged. “Well… how good a friend can she really be if she’s fucking me?” he reasoned.

Mary was too angry at Lucy to fixate on him. She spun back to face Lucy. “You whore, you’re fucking my boyfriend!”

Kon supposed any place as evil as Earth-3 would be pretty misogynist. Real misogyny, not Twitter misogyny.

“You prude, you can’t satisfy him!” Lucy shot back. “All that bondage bullshit, slapping him around and collaring him—what this stallion really needs is a girl who’ll bend over and let him go to work!”

“Kon needs control! He needs discipline!”

“Or what, he’ll fuck your bestie?” Lucy snapped.

“You seduced him!” Mary accused her.

“Like hell! He raped me!”

Mary was undeterred by the allegation. “Well, you enjoyed it!”

“I mean, yeah,” Lucy concurred. “I’m not a fucking prude—prude.”

“At least I’m not an evil slut… which obviously isn’t a bad thing… but you took it too far!” Mary argued.

“No, I haven’t even taken him between my feet yet.”

“You haven’t given him a footjob? How long has this been going on?” Mary’s searching eyes went to Kon. “Do you not like footjobs?”

“I, uh…”

“You always came when I gave you footjobs! I mean, you would’ve, if I’d let you come, but we were doing orgasm denial—“

“Ha! What a hardship!” Lucy quipped.

“Were you having an easy time not coming?” Mary demanded of Kon. “It’s supposed to be almost impossible not to come for me! You have to be absolutely dominated not to come!”

Kon almost wished he were back in the moral quandary of fucking evil bitches. This had become like proof-reading ads for naughty games on shady websites. And while the main thing while pretending to be himself in a Spock-goatee universe was not getting into a situation where he had to murder anyone to protect his cover, he wasn’t crazy about being in the middle of someone else’s relationship drama.

So really, there was only one thing to do. If it worked, cancel their appearance on the Jerry Springer Show. If it didn’t work—they might try to kill him, but at least it’d be less awkward.

Kon wasn’t Tim. He couldn’t do awkward.

He unzipped his pants.

Lucy was launching into another insult, but at the sound of his zipper, both women turned like cats hearing a can opener.

Kon hauled out his erection; it, at least, had no compunctions when it came to people who were as bad as Nazis but weren’t Nazis. (Good to know he’d do alright for himself if he ever time-traveled to Soviet Russia.)

“This is what you’re fighting over? Well, take a good look. There’s plenty of it for both of you. So what’s the problem here? Aside from the fact that neither of you two bitches is doing anything to take care of this badass hard-on?”

Boy, what a time this would be for being evil to not make a babe a total cock-hungry slut.