Kum 4 (Patreon)

Her ruby lips seized hold of his cockhead and she sucked, milking him with her cheeks and lips. Sending a thrill through Kon like a crack of thunder, even as his excess cum and the dregs of his ejaculation hit her system like she’d jacked into a 10,000 volt powerline.

“MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!” Roxy moaned around his dick, and all Kon could do in reaction to that outright spectacle of lust was to feed his cock into her mouth.

Roxy happily accepted.

A moment later she was using her lips and tongue with wicked need, clearly barely able to hold herself back from simply vacuuming his prick until it gave her all the cum she wanted. With mischief in her eyes, she teased and gently suckled one moment and then feverishly milked him the next. Circling Kon’s manhood with her hot tongue, then lapping at its bullet-shaped head so rapidly that he groaned with tortured enjoyment.

Roxy used her soft hands too, stroking and fondling the long shaft that her mouth couldn’t take in. At first delicately, then with enticing pressure, until everything he was feeling had Kon vibrating, shaking with the blissful ripples starting between Roxy’s lips and growing to encompass his entire body.

Roxy suddenly stopped and lay back on the floor, drawing her knees up and parting her thighs. Her eyes burned with excitement. “Oh, Kon! It feels like you’re inside me! Like you’re fucking me already! I’m—I’m coming! Hurry! Give it to me! Fuck me while I’m COMING OH GOODDDD KONNNNN!”

She’d aroused him to a fever pitch, priming his entire body for a marathon fuck, because Kon couldn’t see how he’d ever get enough of such a turned on female. Then he saw Roxy’s hips jackknife up, her wild eyes shooting back in her skull as she quite obviously came. Her pussy flaring open. Her juices geysering out of her in a wild spasm of awesome pleasure.

“KONNNN!” Roxy howled, her hips pumping in spastic coitus against a lover that wasn’t there and an orgasm that clearly was.

Kon’s erection died as Roxy very obviously gave into the same ecstasy Tana was only slowly recovering from.

***

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dubbilex said in his slow, subtle voice. “But I believe you may wish to refrain from sexual intercourse until we develop a countermeasure for your… ejaculate.”

“Hey!” Kon argued. “It was all going fine until she… she couldn’t exactly control herself.”

“It’s your control that is in question, Superboy.”

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to blame her! I’m just saying… she knew the risks. And Tana’s better now, so Roxy’ll be coming out of it soon too.”

“Tana is still unconscious,” Dubbilex reminded him. “The human body is not meant to orgasm for forty-eight hours straight.”

“Yeah, but I mean, c’mon. It’s not like I gave them herpes or anything. Just a lost weekend! And that was a pretty good movie!”

“It was a movie about a man dying from alcoholism.”

“Hey, spoilers!”

“There is another matter to consider,” Dubbilex added, his quiet dignity strained to the breaking point. “Your semen is a potent stimulant. Bodily fluids from you and Superman are already tightly controlled substances due to the risk of genetic experimentation. Now the mix of your celebrity and this… stimulant’s effectiveness…”

Kon stopped dead in his pacing tracks. “Hold on! Are you telling me that people might want my cum?”

Dubbilex seemed to shudder at letting the vulgar word hit his frontal lobe. “Yes.”

“And what people specifically? Jennifer Aniston? Emilia Clarke?”

“Superboy, your ejaculate in and of itself is the least of the issues facing us. If the chemical composition of said ejaculate could be replicated, it would be a potential designer drug—one with countless side effects and addictive qualities we cannot foresee at this point.”

“Hey, Tana’s not addicted, we’d been dating for a long time before we fooled around. And Roxy and I, we’ve always had a thing for each other. I thought it would go away when we shared some DNA too, but I guess that just got us in the mood for sharing more DNA. It’s the thrill of the taboo, I think—”

“Superboy,” Dubbilex interrupted gravely. “Do not allow any of your ejaculate out of your body until Cadmus scientists have fully researched the issue. We can’t risk losing control of this substance.”

“Okay, I got it, you can stop saying ‘ejaculate’,” Kon assured him. “Tana and I, now that we’ve done the deed, it’s not a big deal. The sexual tension is way low. And me and Roxy, we’ve got to talk this thing through with Tana, get them on a few dates—lots to deal with before we’re at the Wild Things stage of things.”

“Sexual intercourse is not the only issue,” Dubbilex informed him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll steer clear of Starfire. Can’t have wet dreams if I don’t see her, right?”

“And those are the only occasions on which you dispose of sperm?”

Kon held up his hands. “Whoa, hey man, I don’t need to do that, I’m Superboy! I have legions of female admirers! I mean, sure, some of those fanfics about me and Wonder Woman are pretty explicit and it’s kinda interesting how they might happen in some other part of the multiverse, but I—where was I? Yeah, I throw out those clothes because they’re worn out! I’m getting punched and blown up and blasted all the time, those clothes are rags, not even fit for giveaway. What am I supposed to do, dress orphans in rags? And sure, some of them are socks! I run! I don’t fly everywhere! I run a lot! Jumping, as well!”

“Now that word is spreading of your ejaculate’s extraordinary qualities, even a sample of it obtained via rag is too much of a risk.”

“Alright, I got ya, no women, no masturbation. I have way more to my social life than that stuff.” Kon paused a moment. “Although for the record, Roxy and I were doing fine with butt stuff.”

“This conversation is at an end.”

“I’m just saying that for the record, butt stuff is fine. If I had to do Wonder Woman, but we didn’t want her out of commission for a couple days… in fact, I think I read a fanfic about that once.” Kon looked away. “They had me apologizing to Robin a lot more than I would’ve in real life. It really seemed to bother him. And I may be all about my bros, but I don’t think I would do all that much to make him feel better. Especially while Imp was watching…”

***

Kon had never felt so… emasculated. It wasn’t that he always got lucky, but it was at least an option. Now, every path before him seemed to have a temptation. If he hung out with Tim? Cass, Steph, Catwoman, the utterly weird amount of hotties Gotham City had to offer, both good and so-very-very-bad. If he hung out with Bart… only a matter of time until all that running around brought him to some babe. It was a curse. And Cassie… forget about it.

How could he explain to any of them, in the likely event that they wanted to get with his body, that they simply had to limit themselves to anal sex? It’d be like asking Slash to only play one guitar string or telling Pamela Anderson that she could only take off one stocking. Batman to wear completely normal clothes except for some dark eyeliner. When things were that Edited-for-TV… what was the point?

So he lounged around the Kompound, drowsing in the hammock, working on his tan and the unfathomable cosmic powers that went with it… when the skunkish aroma of burning hash caught his attention. He looked around the backyard, or what would be the backyard if the Kompound weren’t out in the jungles of Hawaii, safe from superpowered fistfights spilling over into populated areas.

The skunk-scent was coming closer.

“Hey there! You’re that Superboy, aren’t you? Geez, and I thought those long johns of yours showed off a lot! Or at least that they were padded! That’s really all you, isn’t it?”

The girl was hippieish, with braided yellow hair almost overcropping a pretty, girlish face. Her eyeshadow alternated between blue and pink and was most of what she wore. A denim vest graced her slender torso, white fraying replacing the track where a zipper should go—or shouldn’t go, to Kon’s mind.

A safety pin was all that held the two halves of the vest together over her small, pert breasts. Jean shorts—blue except for all the colored stitching embroidering them—decorated her hips. Kon didn’t know if it’d be fair to say she was wearing them. Even in front, they were more like a thong than jeans. Maybe one singular jean. Maybe.

Not that Kon had much room to talk, when he was dressed for sunbathing. All he had on was a banana hammock. He hadn’t expected Professor Livingston’s cute little sister to show up.