This story is the seventh in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present.
Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal consumption. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 4: A Date With Phil
Barbara gently tugged the lacy black top of her hold-up stocking to within a couple of inches of the baby smooth junction of her thighs, ensuring it matched up with the other half of her sexy sheer hose, before leaning forward to slip on her red high-heeled platform soled shoes. She then tugged down the hem of her matching short skirt, to cover her snugly fitting panties, before rising to her feet.
After checking the time on her wristwatch, she walked over to the dresser and picked up her purse. She paused, half turning away, to check out her reflection in the mirror, ensuring that her skirt adequately covered her bottom. It did, but with not a lot of material to spare, despite an extra tug or two.
"Phil should be here any minute now," she mused, leaning forward in the daringly low-cut dress, to check out her painstakingly applied makeup in the dresser mirror, for one last time. Her minimally restrained bra-less breasts, almost made a break for freedom, as she did so and she giggled, nervously, as she imagined such an embarrassing event occurring in a crowded restaurant.
As if on cue, the buzzer sounded, indicating that someone had arrived at the main entrance to the apartment block and pressed the button for her apartment. Non-residents couldn't gain access to the building, unless the external high security door, was opened with a key or electronically unlocked by one of the residents.
Barbara jumped to her feet and hurried over to the intercom that was attached to the inside of the apartment door. A small monitor screen gave her a view of the front entrance, where a tall but familiar, smartly dressed guy with close-cropped blond hair, in his early thirties, stood waiting.
She smiled and pressed the reply button alongside the monitor screen. "Hi, Phil. Don't bother to come on up, I'm on my way down. Be with you in just a minute!"
Pausing only long enough to close and lock the heavy metal door behind her, Barbara clicked her way along the short hallway to the elevator, as quickly as her tight skirt and heels would permit. She was really looking forward to her evening out with Phil.
-oOo-
They dined at the 'Moulin Rouge', a high class French restaurant that was one of Barbara's personal favorites. She had been introduced to it a few months earlier, while she was dating Harvey Dent Jr., the former Gotham City Assistant D.A. It was very expensive but the food was magnificent. Barbara liked to dine out there as often as her modest salary would permit.
"Good evening, Ms. Gordon," the maitre d'hotel greeted, as they entered, giving Barbara a warm welcoming smile. "So nice to see you again. A table for two?"
Barbara returned the handsome head-waiter's welcoming smile. "Yes please, Henri, preferably in a secluded corner."
"Certainly! Please follow me." Henri led them over to a secluded alcove table on the far side of the restaurant. "I hope this is suitable?"
"Thank you, Henri, it is perfect," Barbara murmured, squeezing the Frenchman's hand, while Phil pulled out a chair, prior to her sitting down at the table.
"Merci, Mademoiselle! I will return shortly, with the menu."
-oOo-
During the main course, a delicious coq au vin, Barbara subtly introduced the topic of the late Dr. Zarkhov into their conversation. Normally a little reticent to discuss police matters with a civilian, Phil was willing to make an exception in this case, since Barbara was the Commissioner's daughter and obviously already knew a fair amount about the doctor's demise.
"According to daddy, his body had been drained of blood, possibly by a vampire," Barbara continued, clutching at her impressive chest, dramatically. "I'm sure I won't be able to sleep soundly tonight, all ALONE in my bed."
Phil grinned at her typically 'over-the-top' feminine reaction. "True, the old guy had a couple of puncture wounds in his neck and was a little short of the sticky red stuff," he grudgingly admitted, "but Zarkhov died of a heart attack, after an over-enthusiastic bout of love-making." He failed to notice the sudden reddening of Barbara's cheeks.
His brow suddenly furrowed. "Funny you should bring the subject up though, Barbara. We had another similar death occur sometime last night."
"Oh, yes?" Barbara breathed, trying not to appear over anxious for the details.
"Yes, some old hobo. This guy was completely drained of blood though."
"Goodness gracious," Barbara gasped, eyes widening with unfeigned surprise.
"Yeah! This old tramp also had two puncture wounds in his neck, but it wasn't no vampire that caused it, such creatures don't exist.
"OH, NO?" Barbara retorted, a little more forcefully than she'd meant to.
"Of course NOT! There has to be a more rational explanation."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, if you say so, Phil."
The police officer looked across at his dinner guest, suspiciously. "Now don't you go gossiping about this, Barbara Gordon or, before we know it, half the residents of Gotham City will be milling around in a blind panic," he ordered, sternly, reaching over and gripping her left wrist.
"As if I would," the lovely redhead gushed, perhaps a little too eagerly.
Phil rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in exasperation. "Women!" he muttered, under his breath.
Barbara could tell that Phil was becoming a little annoyed with her, so she decided to change the topic. "Would you like to come back to my place, later, for a nightcap or something?" she enquired, staring at him over the top of her glass of white wine, with just a hint of a smile touching her full red lips, already anticipating his answer.
The policeman relaxed and gave her one of those crooked grins that always set her heart a-flutter, before squeezing her delicate hand. "I thought you'd never ask," he murmured, eagerly nodding his head.
Later, when they were finishing their evening out with a hot cup of coffee, Phil couldn't resist saying, "Don't lean forward too far, darling, or your boobs might fall out of that top. I don't think any of the other male diners would complain, but you could suffer a nasty attack of heartburn, if one of them should drop into your café au lait." He gave a low chuckle, obviously amused by his infantile humor, but then, he was a man.
Barbara pulled a sour face at this corny joke. "Ha, ha, ha! Very funny," she retorted, absently pulling up the front of her low-cut dress and trying to suppress the flush of her cheeks that threatened to reveal her embarrassment.
-oOo-
Barbara eased her pelvis up and down, as she rode Phil's impressive, Latex sheathed erection, as if she were astride a bucking bronco in a Wild West rodeo. The naked policeman was stretched out on the bed beneath her, his wrists cuffed to the headboard behind his head, by means of his own police issue handcuffs. A big grin was plastered over his face, as the gorgeous redhead gradually upped the tempo of her energetic bumping and grinding, at the same time increasing the length of each stroke. By now, she was panting, loudly, from her considerable exertions.
"For someone who looks like an Angel from Heaven, she sure knows how to keep a guy happy," Phil thought, as he watched his fat penis sliding in and out between her tightly stretched labia. Barbara easily absorbed his impressive length, with each squat, the well-toned muscles of her thighs, bulging and rippling, impressively.
Phil laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, enjoying the wonderful sensations that his sexy girlfriend was creating. Barbara Gordon had the most incredibly powerful pussy muscles. They clung to his throbbing shaft like the grip of a velvet glove, resulting in an unbelievable feeling of pleasure. Phil had made love to many women in his time, but none of them could hold a candle to the gorgeous librarian... with the possible exception of Batgirl. A picture of the Dark Angel being raped by the Joker, while he looked on, helplessly, sprang to mind and he almost lost it and ejaculated.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!" the redhead gasped, her splayed hands braced against her muscular thighs and her head thrown back as far as it would go, back arched and eyes squeezed tight shut. Her unblemished skin shimmered with a faint sheen of perspiration, in the warm red glow of the bedside lamp.
"I'm gonna cum," the policeman warned, as the pressure in his balls became almost intolerable and he finally lost control and toppled over the edge. "I just hope that rubber is big and strong enough?" he cried out.
"Aaaaaaahhhh!" Phil's hips jerked, uncontrollably, as he started to ejaculate his load of hot sperm, in short but powerful spurts.
"Not yet, Phil! Please, not yet," Barbara pleaded, looking down and trying to focus her gaze on her lover, as his hips began jerking up to meet her widespread crotch. "I'm sooooooo close, so very close..."
"Aaaaggghhh! Oh yes, yesss, yesssssss!" she cried, with a shudder of delight, as she reached her own much needed orgasm. Her ass sank down onto the tops of his thighs, until his stiff shaft was completely engulfed by her wet slippery sex. She arched her spine in pleasure and squirmed her ass, as her sex flooded with her own secretions.
As the last of the orgasmic tremors faded, Barbara rocked forward, her round breasts heaving, fetchingly. She lowered her lips to Phil's, in a long, passionate kiss. "Thank... you..." she murmured, simply, when they were finally forced to break apart, both gasping for air.
Phil smiled up at her, as his shrinking penis slithered from her wet pussy. "You're most welcome, Ms. Gordon, but better not tell your Pa about this. He may not be quite so understanding about your, ah, little hobby."
"What hobby?" Barbara asked, sharply, momentarily misunderstanding him.
