Scoop: Plucking Batman's Cherry

[CougarGirl]

I spread my thighs wider and titled my hips a little. My eyes lifted from my crotch and settled on the trunk-like thighs of the man kneeling between them and, as my gaze rose further, on the thick stalk that had grown from the forest of wiry hair. The hammer head was dark blue, almost black, and twitching as it approached my pussy. I licked my lips as he rubbed it gently over my clit. I closed my eyes and held my breath as he eased inside me, pushing my labia apart, forcing me open, his body shuddering as he held himself in check until he had penetrated me fully. As I felt his balls rubbing against my thighs, I opened by eyes and let them resume their journey up his body, across his chest that was heaving now with the exertion of pumping me hard, to his square jaw and dark eyes. Eyes that were visible through the mask that covered the upper part of his skull. Batman. Getting his reward for rescuing me. His thrusts slowed to allow him sufficient breath to speak.

‘Excuse me, madam, madam.’

A hand was resting on my shoulder.

‘Sorry, madam, but you need to fasten your seat belt; we’re coming in to land.’

Shit. Damn and shit. I’d been having this dream for three weeks now and never, not even once, had I got to the end, something always interrupted me.

Three weeks since my editor had called me into his office and offered me the assignment of a lifetime, a career making opportunity, an exclusive interview for the British press with Batman.

‘So, do you want it or not?’

The editor’s tone was insistent and irritated. He was busy and he couldn’t understand why anyone would even think about not taking up the offer. And what an offer. I would have almost half of the colour magazine that went out with the Saturday issue. And plenty of photos, which I’d have to take myself, since the deal did not include a photographer.

‘Sure,’ I replied, ‘why not.’ We British are always understated: the more excited we are, the less we show it.

‘Good,’ he tossed me a package, ‘here are the terms of the deal. Just don’t mess up, OK?’

I nodded and walked out, out of his office, out of the building, and over the road to a Starbucks, where I settled into a quiet corner with a flat white and the package.

It was all there: tickets, hotel bookings, instructions about the terms of the interview. I was to have the whole afternoon and could take photos, subject his approval, but I must not print anything that might give a clue as to his real identity. He’d collect me in an alley behind my hotel and take me to the bat cave for the interview.

 

[CougarGirl]

It was a boiling hot day and I’d learned from experience that, to get a subject to open up, it helped to form some sort of personal bond with them, and what could be more personal than a sexual one, usually but not exclusively just a flirtatious one. So I wore a light blue cotton dress with white polka dots, just long enough to cover my essentials. No bra and a white thong just for hygiene purposes.

I arrived a couple of minutes ahead of schedule and dead on time there was a roar as the bat mobile swerved round a corner and shot down the narrow alley, screeching to a halt alongside me. I jumped in and he was off, across town, out into the countryside, for what seemed like ages.

The first thing that had struck me was the smell. Oil, grease, diesel, and something else I couldn’t place. As the car swung round the bends, our bodies swayed and bumped into each other, so often that I wondered if he was doing it deliberately. The more I came into contact with him, the more I realised that he was the source of that other smell. I leaned across as casually as I could and took when I hoped would be an inconspicuous sniff. Batman turned and smiled. ‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘You?’ I was puzzled. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘it’s me. That’s the smell you don’t recognise. It’s the suit, it’s made of a special protective fabric. It works well, but the smell takes getting used to.’ I made a mental note of the images I would be recording in my interview.

The journey went on and on. How did he ever get to Gotham in time to catch the criminal red-handed? Then I noticed a rock formation. ‘Either you’ve taken a wrong turn or we’re going in circles,’ I remarked as casually as I could. Batman grinned. ‘OK, fair cop, we’re close.’ And a couple of minutes later we were in the cave with the door closing behind us.

I had expected the cave to be like a villain’s lair in a James Bond movie, all sparkling white and pristine. But it wasn’t. It smelt like the car and was cluttered with bits and pieces of machinery. I wandered around taking some shots, as much to remind me of the atmosphere as for inclusion in the article. I turned a corner and walked into the domestic area, there was a rug on the floor in front of a sofa and a kitchen with coffee steaming. ‘I can rest here when I am expecting trouble,’ Batman explained. ‘We’ll do the interview here.’

So I set up my digital recorder and began my questions. For a start I asked him about his most memorable case and then about his first, before moving on to how he got started and how he managed to get his whole operation organised. It seemed like only a few minutes, but the clock on the wall showed that we had been talking for an hour. I switched off the recorder and stood up. ‘Time for a break,’ I announced, ‘and a coffee.’

I wandered around as I sipped my drink and tried to engage him in casual conversation. The interview had gone OK, typical for the initial stages. Batman seemed id might talking to me knowing whatever he says may find its way into print. But I’d heard nothing that I hadn’t read in the cuttings. I needed something more. And this break was part of the process of drawing him out. Getting away from the recorder and more relaxed, maybe a little off guard.

‘You must have had some interesting encounters,’ I suggested. ‘What do you mean?’ He was on the defensive for some reason. ‘Well, take Catwoman,’ I probed, ‘if I were in her position, I’d have tried my feminine wiles on you, as a distraction.’ Batman said nothing. ‘After all, grappling with villains like her must have its compensations.’ This guy just didn’t take hints. Surely he’d be proud to boast of his encounters. He needed more encouragement.

‘Look,’ I adopted a professional tone. ‘The interview’s going well, but I need something new to give my readers. And I need something to make them engage with the story, something more personal. So, come on, Batman, give me something. You’ve got loads of fans out there. Open up a bit. You’re not telling me that you’ve not been affected by some of your closer encounters, are you?’

That was when he snapped.

 

[CougarGirl]

‘So that’s it, I should have known better.’ He stormed around, kicking and throwing things that got in his way. ‘That’s going to be your line, is it? Batman is gay, is that going to be your theme? Well let me tell you, it’s an old story. And one I’m tired of.’

I stared in amazement.

‘No, actually it’s certainly not going to be my theme. For a start, I’m a serious journalist, not into tittle-tattle. Anyway,’ I added, I know you’re not gay.’ That brought him to a halt. ‘And just how do you know that?’ he sneered.

I put down my mug and walked close to him.

‘From the way you’ve been looking at me. Every time I cross my legs, your eyes flick down for a glimpse of my crotch. Every time I bend forward, they’re looking at my tits. Every time I walk around, you’re watching my ass.’ I wasn’t sure about the last one, but it fitted with the rest and he didn’t protest. ‘And you nearly drove off the road a couple of time when you were looking at my thighs instead of where you were going. So, no, I don’t think you’re gay.’

He looked at me sheepishly, well as best as I could judge under his mask, and mumbled an apology.

‘Look, Batman, the recorder’s turned off, this is just us chatting, right? And I am a serious journalist, but I have to get my readers interested. A lot of them are women and, if you’ve checked yourself out on line, you are the number one sexual fantasy in every survey of women that’s been done in the past decade. I need something for them, something to read besides the serious stuff. So give me a little something that will titillate them. You know the sort of thing, “Batman has to conquer his feelings as Catwoman writhes in this manly grip”. Or “Batman receives the grateful thanks of the heiress he has just rescued from the clutches of a dastardly villain”. Come on, give me a little something for your fans. Please,’ I moved closer.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered at last, ‘there hasn’t been anything of that sort. Honestly.’

He seemed honest, but he also seemed uncomfortable and I couldn’t reconcile the two. He was shifting and nervous. My journalist’s instincts were on alert now and I knew, just knew there was something here that I needed to explore. Could it be me that was affecting him? A journalist always has to be aware of becoming part of the story and the guy had been eyeing me up from the moment I jumped into the bat mobile. Was that why he was uncomfortable? Was I turning him on? So I put it to him direct.

‘Am I arousing you?’

He nodded. Obviously he didn’t trust himself to speak.

‘Sorry,’ I said, although I didn’t know why I should be, ‘I didn’t intend to distract you. I guess it can’t be comfortable in that gear.’

He nodded again and swallowed. ‘No,’ he admitted, ‘there’s not much room for expansion. And you don’t need to be sorry, I’m the one who should apologise.’

‘I’m guessing you need a lot of room for expansion, right?’

It was blatant, but often the most obvious line is the most successful. It was worth a try anyway and he took the bait, in a modest way.

‘Well, let’s say I need more room than I’ve got.’ I’d swear he actually blushed.

OK so that mystery was solved. Or was it? If he got like this just being with me, why not when he was wrestling with Catwoman and all the other women he had fought and overcome in his time. He wasn’t gay – his reaction to me proved that. And he wasn’t impotent – his reference to room for expansion proved that. So what could it be?

The only thing I could think of was, but surely no that couldn’t be, no way, not with this worldwide symbol of masculine virility.

 

[CougarGirl]

‘Batman,’ I tried to sound as matter of fact as I could, ‘you have done it, haven’t you? I mean, you’re not a virgin are you?’

That was it. He hung his head in shame. I’d got it.

‘You won’t publish this, will you?’ His eyes told of his humiliation and embarrassment. ‘I’d be a laughing stock. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, but I concentrated on my mission, sorry that sounds so pompous, but it’s what I did.’ It was all spilling out now. ‘I couldn’t allow myself any weakness and I couldn’t let anyone get close to me in case they realised who I was. So, I just never got round to it.’

I put my hand on his. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t put that in my article, promise.’ No, not in the article, but there was no way I could keep this to myself. I had a few close friends, ones I could trust with confidences, and they’d hear every detail. And maybe in years to come, who knows when the moment might be right to reveal, exclusively of course and for a commensurate fee, the whole truth about Batman. But he was content to take my words at face value and his relief was immediate, obvious and so touching.

‘You don’t know how difficult it’s been. All those women determined to get me aroused, like you said, using their charms to escape, but having to resist them. And being left, so, so, … desperate,’ he finally blurted out, glad to unburden himself at last. ‘I’d get back here and wank off, all over the engine of the bat mobile, hearing my sperm sizzle on the bonnet. Then I’d get home and wank again, and again, and again. But I’ve never got any real relief, nothing lasting. The only consolation is that it is the price I have to pay to rid this town of the villains who want to take it over.’

This was all very interesting, but where did it leave my interview? I couldn’t use this material, not yet anyway, but I needed to get us back on track. He was so distraught that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I had to come up with something and it just popped out of my mouth before my brain had engaged.

‘Would you like to do it? With me? After all, you admit that I arouse you. So why don’t we do it? Shall we? Right now.’

 

[CougarGirl]

Batman’s reaction was very gratifying. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Immediately he began to unbluckle his belt, but then stopped just as quickly.

‘I have to keep my mask on. That’s OK isn’t it?’ He was almost pleading.

‘Sure, of course,’ I conceded, ‘what makes you comfortable.’ And, after all, he had always worn his mask in my fantasy.

His reaction was to begin fumbling with his tunic, trying to find the release mechanism. I’ve not been with many virgins in my time, but my approach had always been to give them a hand, unobtrusively, but this time I sensed it was best to let the guy take the lead. He was used to being in control and I had to let him at least think he was. Not that an occasional hint might not go amiss.

‘Hey,’ I tried to get his attention, ‘would you like to undress me?’

‘Sure,’ his response was quick, ‘but I’d like to get out of this gear first. Like I said, there isn’t much room for expansion.’

‘Fair enough,’ I replied, ‘let me give you a hand.’

He showed me the release catches and soon I was peeling his tunic over his shoulders. I should have expected it, but it took me by surprise. The sweat, covering his whole torso. And the smell, stale sweat from an outfit he had worn for years. And it’s not exactly the thing you can send to the cleaners. But his body was all I expected, muscular and hard. My favourite. But pale and scarred.

‘I thought you were invincible,’ I hinted, as I traced the lines of his scars with my nail.

He didn’t flinch.

‘Old wounds,’ he explained, ‘when I was inexperienced. And,’ he added hastily, ‘the gear has been modified since then.’

‘Right,’ I broke off, aware of the dampness between my thighs, ‘let’s get you of the rest of this outfit, give you a chance to expand in comfort.’

 

[CougarGirl]

He grinned, as together we pressed the release catches and eased his pants to the floor, leaving him standing in a pair of silk shorts. The Bat looked at them and then, apologetically, at me. ‘I have to wear these, to protect me from the material chaffing when I’m running or climbing.’

‘Do you know,’ I grinned, ‘I never thought of that.’ We both laughed and, taking advantage of the moment, I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his shorts and squatted down, pulling the shorts with me as I went. By the time they were round his ankles, I was face-to-face with the Bat’s crotch.

It all looked remarkably like it had in my dreams. Thick trunks of thighs spreading out into tight mounds of buttocks. And there, nestling in a bed of wiry hair were two soft balls and, uncurling and growing, the stalk of his cock. Nothing huge, but nothing to be embarrassed about in the shower either. Like the rest of him, sturdy, solid and strong.

‘So,’ I whispered as I rose to my feet in front of him, ‘are you ready to undress me.’

His actions spoke for him. My dress was over my head in seconds, leaving me in my panties and heels. He looked down at my crotch and a grin spread over his face.

‘Looks like I’m not the only one who’s been getting hot and bothered.’

I followed his eyes, over my small tits with their pert pink nipples, down my flat belly, to the white cotton of my pants with an all too obvious dark stain.

‘Now I wonder what could have caused that,’ I mused in mock surprise.

‘We need to get you out of those,’ his voice was harsh, rough, not to be contradicted. He grabbed by pants in both hands and shredded them with one powerful tug, throwing the tattered remains onto the floor.

My breath caught in my chest. He’d torn them off me like they were made of paper. What, I wondered, was he going to do to me. I reached down and took hold of his cock. I expected him to moan in pleasure or want to fuck me right away. But his reaction took me by surprise. ‘NO,’ he screamed, ‘NO, please, stop.’

 

[CougarGirl]

I let go at once, but too late. The first spray of sperm landed in my hair, the next hit me in the face, the third landed on my tits and dribbled down my belly, so did the fourth and the fifth. I lost count before he finally stood before me shame faced with his cock slowly sinking.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, ‘I knew this would happen.’

‘Really?’ I’d expected him to be eager once he was inside me, but not at just a touch.

There was a long pause before he spoke.

‘I guess I’d better tell you the truth.’

I waited, often silence is the best way to get an interviewee to speak.

‘I told you the truth about coming back here and wanking. Everything I said was true. What I didn’t tell you was that I never lasted long, only a few seconds at most. That’s one reason why I’ve never-‘

He stopped abruptly, obviously expecting me to understand what he could not bring himself to put into words.

And I did understand. I understood all too well that I was not going to get anything worth printing out of him until this problem was resolved. And I could read all too well what was in his mind. I’d promised not to mention his virginity, but dropping his load this quick, well I’d not said anything about that. He knew how vulnerable he was. I had to reassure him, but also turn this to my advantage.

‘Look,’ I did my best to suppress my dismay at not having that stalk inside me by now, ‘it’s no big deal. Guys often cum quickly to begin with. And holding yourself in check for so long just makes it worse. Take a rest and then we can build up slow.’ And, I thought, after dumping a load like that all over me, you won’t have much left.

‘But,’ I added, as he retrieved my pants and used them to mop his spunk off me, ‘this is eating into my interview time, so you’ll need to give me some good material to make up for it.’ I wasn’t sure whether he’d heard. If he hadn’t, I would need to remind him later.

 

[CougarGirl]

As we settled onto the sofa for some mutual exploration, the theme of my article flashed into my mind: ‘BAT – a man like any other’. Not that I would be revealing of my recently discovered personal details. No. Give me some credit for my journalistic integrity, please. But it was a good theme, with a new angle. No mere repetition of the standard stories of his escapades and successes. No more story book accounts of a super hero. No, this would be about him as a man, his motives, his ambitions, his regrets.

However little his experience with the opposite sex, and he must have had some before he embarked on his career, he had certainly picked up some tips along the way. I had been hot and ready for him when he sprayed me with his sperm. Now as his fingers explored my body, I was becoming more and more eager, more and more desperate. I hadn’t expected him to ready in an instant. Certainly not after the load that had landed on me. But by half an hour – yes, I did look at my watch, discreetly as I could – I was expecting that snake to show some signs of life. But so far it had shown no sign of life, until-

It was purest chance. I was working around the solid rocks that formed his buttocks when my finger strayed into his crack. He moaned softly, so I explored further, and he moaned louder. I glanced at his cock and it was growing again. I’d found his button, that magic spot that works when all else fails. By the time my nail was scratching at his hole, his stalk was stiff and ready for action.

Batman’s expression wasn’t difficult to read. Eager but nervous. He knew he was entering virgin territory, he wanted to go there, but was leaving his comfort zone. I just slid back onto the sofa and open my thighs. As he knelt there, just like he did in my dreams, he was shaking. I wanted so much to say something to boost his confidence, to assure him that everything would be all right. With every other man I’d bedded, that would have been the right thing to do, but not with Batman. He needed to do this on his own, for his own confidence and self-esteem.

Why is that guys like to be guided home? Is it because they always seem to fumble and don’t want to look inexperience, or is it their way of asking permission, or what? I don’t know. But out of habit, I reached out and took hold of his cock to help him dock. Gently so as not to set off another explosion. As soon as he had lodged his head securely in my cunt, I let go and he eased himself inside me and gave a couple of gentle thrusts, seeming to savour the experience, his first experience.

 

[CougarGirl]

As he was gliding slowly on my juices, his face broke out into a huge smile. Then he put his head back and roared:

‘YAY, FUCK YOU BITCH, FUCK YOU RAW’

And then he let rip. Not like most guys, who power through their hips, but using his whole body to propel himself into me. Normally, I’m more into the subtle fuck rather than a ram and hammer approach, but with him it was, well different, feeling such a surge of masculine power, filling me, propelling me along the sofa. I knew right away that I wasn’t going to cum, but this wasn’t about me. And I could tell, once he was in his stride, that he wasn’t going to explode any time soon. I just lay back for the ride.

When the end finally came, it was sudden. His chest was heaving from the exhaustion, and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he was definitely slowing down, like he was coming to the end of his stamina. He had to cum now or not at all. And cum he did, so violently it felt as if he was lifting me into the air on his cock. Hot jets burst into my womb. One, two, three, I counted them, four, five, surely he’s be empty now, but no, six, seven, even eight and finally just a shudder for the final dregs.

He held himself poised over me for a while before pulling out and standing back. His cock slowly sank, as he stood there looking down at me, his first conquest in his eyes I suppose.

‘Right,’ I said, looking for my dress. ‘Let’s get back to the interview.’

And that is just what we did, sitting on the sofa, me in my dress, him naked except for the mask and cape. Like all guys after their first fuck, there was a difference in his manner, the way he held himself, an air of confidence that wasn’t there before. That may seem an odd thing to say – surely Batman was confident. And of course he was, in his mission, but I’m talking on a personal level. He had not been confident when our interview began, no, nervous, apprehensive, not trusting me. All that had changed now. I told him the theme I was going to use and he gave me a lot of good stuff about his upbringing and the origin of his values. It’s amazing how being post coital helps an interviewee to open up. The article was a great success. I was even nominated for an award, which I didn’t get.

And to answer your questions:

Yes, I did honour my promise not to reveal anything about his virginity, until now, which is as you know long after his career came to an end.

No, we didn’t fuck again. He didn’t get hard and I didn’t try to make him go hard again.

No, we didn’t keep in touch.

No, he wasn’t circumcised.

No, I didn’t orgasm, but that is par for the course when picking cherries. The article was more than compensation.

 

[Mikes123]

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