Hot Time in Matrix City

I'm sitting under the studio lights and across from me is Jay Cosmo, nationally famous chat show host. Out there in the shadows is the audience who queued all night to see this interview live. At least I don't have to worry about make up the way he does since my mask covers my face from hairline to upper lip. The director is giving Jay a hushed count down, three, two, one and we're live! Jay swivels his chair to face me and the tense crowd are all agog.

"Tonight we welcome to the Cosmo show Matrix City's premier female superhero, Darkstar. The questions tonight won't come from me, instead, the lucky draw winners from the audience will put their posers to you Ms D."

The questions fly thick and fast, some I answer readily, some I must refuse on security grounds.

"When did I get my powers?" Almost two years ago.

"How did I get them?" Sorry top secret.

"Am I married?" "Do I have kids?" "Do I even have a boyfriend?"

I duck all of these on the familiar grounds of putting friends and family at risk if I reveal any personal details. Does nobody ever consider the slimmest possibility that a superhero could be gay? I am, but it makes no difference to my sex life since I don't have one, gay or straight, since the moment I transformed into Darkstar.

I gained my super powers from exposure to a strange glowing meteorite that landed in my back garden one night and since then I can tear the door off a bank vault or punch my way through a mountain. You can't hurt me with a five ton bomb or a vat of acid and that's where my sex life went. If I were straight I'd crush any ordinary guy between my thighs or turn his cock to mush in my vagina, and do you have any idea how few lesbian superhero's there are? Plenty of gorgeous superwenches I would go for but they're either straight and married or already hooked up with someone else. "Where did I get my superhero uniform, communication belt, and my aircraft the Starskimmer?" All manufactured and supplied by The Boffin, super intelligent research scientist for The Defenders of Terra. A superhero's society of which, I am of course, a member.

The Boffin is among other things an M.D. so when I confessed my sexual frustrations under patient/doctor confidentiality he constructed for me a titanium and carbon fibre vibrator which is virtually indestructable. It helps get me through the night but it's nothing like the real thing baby, but if I could crush a guy with my thighs think what I'd do to a babe's head when I orgasmed, even if her tongue could rouse my super clit.

A few more unchallenging questions and we're off air and it's backstage to enjoy drinks and nibbles at the after show reception. I take a glass or two of Chardonnay and a couple of cocktail sausages but I don't get anything from the wine except it's pleasant flowery taste. Another super draw back, I can't get drunk anymore. As a test I once drank a gallon of white rum in jig time and felt no different and damn sure no trace of a hangover later.

Some of the draw winners have been allowed to join us and I have my own small fan club around me, though I'm not the only one. Another guest on the show is Colleen McGregor, the latest in a long line of super models, six foot tall without high heels and apparently poured into an ivory satin dress with nothing beneath but her skin. I try not to drool too much while replying to questions from my fans that weren't asked on air.

"Who designed your uniform?" The Blademaster, a super swordsman who totes a sabre, stiletto, and throwing stars made from some break proof alloy invented by the aforementioned Boffin. Blademaster is as big a screaming queen as I am a dyke but if he ever quits the hero trade any fashion house would snatch his hand off to sign him up.

He produced exactly what I asked for, black calf length boots and an electric blue uniform that is distinctly Cossack. Above the boots, the trousers flare wide and loose while the jacket's collar fastens high on my neck and buttons across the shoulder. I'm not the shape for black Spandex. When I was transformed into the powerhouse I now am I'd like to say I was tall, slim, and elegant. I'd like to but it wouldn't be true.

The truth? I'm five foot five and I'm big in the tit and ass department, wide thighs and a bit of a plump belly. My girlfriends seemed to like it but I'll never get down to size zero and I mean never. I once spent a week doing non-stop aerobics and again I mean non-stop, twenty four hours a day and seven days a week. No rest and no food and I never lost one ounce. I eat, drink, piss and crap but I figure I could starve myself for ever and a day and still be as strong as I am now and even worse weigh and look the same.

The final straw comes when one of my hero worshippers, a well rounded , mother of three, wants her picture taken with me. Arm round my waist and one large, firm, breast rubbing against mine. I smile "cheese" and make my escape by claiming it's time for my evening patrol of the city. I flee before I start to grope her. Imagine the headlines, "Superhero arrested for indecent assault on mother."

Out in the car park I use my com belt to call down the Starskimmer from high above and begin a slow motion cruise over Matrix City in search of evil doers. Two hours later I'm bored out of my mind, even in a big city chock full of super villains you get your slow nights. I hover my plane above a flat roof selected at random, hop out, and send Starskimmer off into the wild blue yonder.

It's a mild, moonlit, night. Not that a cold, frosty night would be uncomfortable, at least my superpowers give me some things in the credit column. I'll never suffer from exposure, or sunstroke for that matter.

I lean back against an air vent and drowse off. Curiously, I still need sleep, not as much as I did when merely human but I enjoy a nap now and then. The Boffin tells me we all have to or we suffer for it. Even his immeasurable I.Q. hasn't made him immune from the odd forty winks.

I'm woken by a faint crunching noise, it's boots on gravel. From the shadow of the vent I peer out across the roof. Before my transformation my eyes weren't too good and super powers or not they're still not great, so Boffin built lenses into my mask that not only correct my visual failings but let me see well in the dark and into the infrared spectrum also.

She's standing on the roof, tall, a good six inches taller than me and clad all in silver. Thigh boots, leotard, and a domino across her eyes and cheekbones. Her figure rivals or surpasses Ms McGregor on whom I fixated earlier tonight. I recognise the description from a Defenders briefing, she is Night Owl, suspected of a series of art thefts around Matrix City in the past several months.

Considered as strong as a dozen men and as quick as lightning she possesses great martial art skills but has never injured anyone during her alleged criminal escapades. Now I should point out that us superheroes are bound by the law as much as your ordinary street cop, and just because she's under suspicion doesn't give me the right to dive right in and grab her, so I watch and wait.

She produces a number of small tools and electronic devices from pouches on her boots and bypasses the alarm system on the skylight she kneels in front of. That job done she demonstrates her power. Reaching down she flexes the smooth muscles of her thighs and forearms, tearing the steel grill from the bolts that hold it over the roof window. Okay, time to earn my superhero wages. I step out of the shadows and call out to her.

"Alright honey, come quietly, there's no need for anyone to get hurt."

Sometimes it works, this time it doesn't. She's quick, I'll give her that, she's across the roof in a series of handsprings and halts in front of me in a flash. She lands a spinning kick flush on my jaw before I can get out of the way and is pulling her right hand back for a strike when I step in close and grab her in a bear hug.

I figure she thought I'd be on the floor and I've caught her by surprise but she wrestles powerfully to break free. She knees me in the crotch, works great on a guy and doesn't do a gal any good either, but it takes more than she's got to hurt me. She worms one arm loose and lands a series of axe blows on my shoulder as a feint and then tucks her feet against my belly. Falling backwards she heaves and tries to toss me over her but I've got a death grip on her and we go over the edge of the roof locked together.

As we drop the eight stories to the car park below I belatedly realise I've been napping on the roof of the Matrix City Fine Arts Museum which explains Night Owl's arriving here tonight. I twist in the air to ensure that I'm on the bottom as we crash land on the concrete, it's not going to hurt me but maybe Night Owl's not as tough as I am.

Kerpow! We hit the ground and the car park surface cracks as I slam into it. I feel the impact but that's all, no damage. I'm up in time for her to be on me with a hail of kicks and punches, well I'm getting fed up with all this. I can be really quick myself when I want to be and as she launches at me again I block her left hand and smash a right hook to her short ribs, followed by a spear strike to her solar plexus and the breath hisses out of her. A booming uppercut to her jaw and she's out fot the count.

Time to call down the Starskimmer and hustle Ms Night Owl off to Matrix City's maximum security prison for super crooks and leave her to await trial. Light as a thistledown Starskimmer settles on the dirty, cracked, surface, a hatch slides silently open followed by the extension of the loading ramp. I bend and catch hold of Night Owl's wrist while I hook my other hand under her knees and effortlessly sling her over my shoulder in the good old fireman's lift. Her large, firm, breasts bounce against my back as I amble up the ramp and inside Starskimmer to the holding cell.

I settle her into one of the padded seats and fasten her safety harness. In view of her strength I decide to fit her with a pair of Electro cuffs, yes the Boffin again, his invention. Cast from Adamantium alloy, many times stronger than the toughest steel, they should hold her but if she struggles too hard she'll get a paralyzing shot of high voltage current. As I lock her in them I notice that beneath her lids her eyes are starting to move and she's mumbling under her breath.This girl is TOUGH! I would have guessed she'd have been out for quite a while yet.

I sit myself down opposite her and wait for her head to clear. I have not heard word one from her yet so I'll have a little chat before carting her off to justice. Her eyes flicker open and she's instantly aware of where she is and what's happened to her. She speaks for the first time in a pleasant, husky,contralto.

"Shit, lady! You sure hit hard, what now off to the pokey?"

I sit silently looking at her pale skinned , high cheekboned features and the short cropped silver blond hair while the seeds of an idea take root.

"Maybe yes, maybe no, just answer one question and listen to what I have to say then it's your choice."

I ask my question and tell her how she can avoid doing hard time. She grins at me like a cheeky schoolkid as she replies.

"Fuck lady! You didn't have to knock me out to ask me that, no problem, no problem at all."

Three hours later I'm sprawled in my Empress sized bed in the Star Chamber, my secret underground hideout, with a hundred feet of rock and steel reinforced concrete between me and the outside world of Matrix City. My thighs are spread wide and a silver blond head is buried between them, through my gritted teeth I'm letting slip moans that are coming to a crescendo as I approach another world class orgasm.

A hot wet tongue, two talented lips, and as many fingers as she cares to use are driving me insane. She flogs the button of my clit one more time and I cum with volcanic power. I scream so loudly the steel plates of my bedroom echo to my climax. My body arches up off the huge bouncy mattress, my thighs clamp and unclamp from the sides of her head as a series of sexual hand grenades explode deep inside me.

At last I return to planet Earth and peer between the valley of my breasts with their blood engorged nipples proudly erect as Night Owl peels her mouth away from my dripping cunt. Her face is smeared with my juices and she simply looks smug. I haven't crushed her head or snapped her neck no matter how hard she fucked me and no matter how hard I came. When earlier I gave her plenty of what she's just given me, it never occured to me to worry about what my fingers deep inside her pussy might do to her. She only writhed and screamed and clawed her nails at my back as her explosive multiple orgasm threatened to wreck even my specially reinforced bed.

What a cretin I've been. I've mooned around every tasty looking super heroine and got nowhere without considering whether the ranks of the opposition might have a sapphic section. On the way here Night Owl gave me a brief roll call of her kind of girl from the most wanted list. Mistress Pain,The Scorpion Lady, Tigercat, and many other members of the "No cocks wanted here" club. Night Owl of course has been into the ladies figuratively and physically since her earliest years.

I recall how, in the Starskimmer, I found it so hard to hint that if she swung that way a roll in the hay with the Owl might let me go easy on her. I needn't have worried. Turns out one look at me had turned her on, she's big on short, voluptuous dykes. She props herself up on one elbow and cocks her head to one side.

"Wanna trib again Star?"

Do I want to trib with her again? Oh fuck yes! My mind swings back to an hour ago and the thought of her sleek thighs locked around mine while her silky slit and mine slap together. My swollen clit rubbing against hers until our simultaneous earth shattering multiple climax seemed to shake the whole huge bedroom.

For the first time in almost two years I bless my conversion to superhuman. If I can work out in my gym for a week without taking a break how long can Owl and I keep fucking non stop? Okay she might not be quite in my class but I've got to think that a twenty four hour lesbian sex orgy is well within her capabilities and more importantly her appetites. Maybe a quick break to clean up and we can be at it again all day and night.

Am I letting down my fellow superheroes and heroines? Am I about to turn away from justice and the rule of law? Fuck no! Just remember though that a girl's entitled to get laid now and then so maybe I just need to start separating my hero work from my social life. Which, until tonight, has been non existant for two years.

I think about the wanted posters for Tigercat, six and a half feet of feline grace, tiny tits, endless legs and skin like oiled ebony. Where, I wonder, does she hang out when she's not robbing jewellery stores or banks?

I've never even seen a picture of Scorpion Lady but the name alone gets my gaydar buzzing. Scratch Mistress Pain though, not much point in allowing her to use her famous electronic bullwhip to try to turn me on when I wouldn't feel it anyway.

Owl's getting impatient for more lady loving and spreads my thighs wide apart, I peel back my labia and she plants her wet juicy honeypot hard on mine, as our clits glide back and forth across each other tiny bolts of lightning seem to crackle inside me. The Owl's staring at the ceiling, mindlessly, and twisting her spectacular breasts while I try to hold back my big O and let it build. No chance! I heave my crotch against her and it's a sexual Hiroshima. Owl's belly ripples, her thighs flex and she's gone, writhing on the bed like a snake, her breath rushing from between her clenched teeth in huge gasps.

When sex is this fantastic I'm loud, and as my cums roll off the assembly line and rocket through me I holler to beat the band. "OH MY FUCKING LORD, JESUS WEPT, FUCK ME!" Well she just has, so thoroughly I'm slumped flat and savouring the golden glow that runs from labia, clit, and deep into my womb it seems like. Then I hear giggling, Owl's laying back with a goofy grin on her face and her arms thrown wide like she's been crucified.

"Had enough old lady?"

Old lady! Old lady! I'm only forty, well fortyish, she'll pay for this. I grab her slender sniggering form and dump her across my lap. I'm tempted to supply a damn good spanking but I've missed this kind of bedtime humour for too long, so instead I jam one thumb into her brown, puckered, tight little arse ring and curl my fingers into her slippery cleft.The giggles change to groans, the groans to moans as I flex my hand inside her. Then it's one long, shrill scream as she bounces up and down on my thighs because I've hit the G spot, both G spots really and she pounds the bed with her fists as she spurts onto my fingers.

The Owl, bless her, isn't finished with me yet. Role playing? She grabs my wrist and yanks me off the bed then slaps me against the steel plate wall of my boudoir.

"Assume the position bitch!"

Perfect impression of a tough prison screw or street cop! So I stand hands flat against the wall and legs spread wide.

"Time for a body search babe!"

Don't know what she expects to find since the only thing either of us have on is the sticky smears on our crotch and thighs where we've exchanged bodily fluids but this is starting to sound like fun. She slides herself down with her back against the wall and her head is perfectly placed between my legs. I glance down and she's palmed my vibrator from off the bedside table.

"Jeeze Star, a ten speed vibrator! You got to get me one of these, please."

She clicks it on and the wasps buzz echoes in the gloom. One thrust and it's between my cheeks and deep up my arse. The ripples of pleasure spreading around in there are doubled when her tongue jabs deep into my pussy and her lips champ on my labia. She's going for fast and hard as she wacks the lonely ladies best friend in and out of me and snacks on my clit. This is going to be a big one and a wet one. When I come I spurt a cocktail of cum and salty piss onto Owl's face and mouth before joining her, slumped against each other, on the thick carpet.

For a while I sit silently with my arm cuddled around her waist and my head resting on those lovely boobs then I heave up to my feet, grab her, and sling her over my shoulder. A muffled voice as I stride across the room.

"Where we going Star?"

"My bathroom babe we need a shower, we smell like the main performers in a Thailand brothel."

This time with an equally muffled giggle.

"Star, how long is this "probation" idea of yours going to take?"

"Well I kinda figured we'd stay down here until we get tired of screwing each other."

I can't see it but I know she's got a smug grin on her gorgeous face.

"Wow! I guess we could be here for a few months then and I know some really naughty things we can do in a shower."

I let loose with a genuine, deep, belly laugh as I amble along toting my nympho girlfriend but I wonder what I'm going to say to everybody the next time I'm interviewed by Mr Cosmo and my fans. Any questions about my love life and they'd better be ready to pull the plug on the broadcast damn quick. I can just imagine it.

"Any superdykes watching please contact me for hot, uninhibited, lesbo sex on 555-9763 or by Email at darkstar1@xxxxx.com A.S.A.P. All calls and emails will be replied to and you'll have a hot time in Matrix City if we get it on."

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With thanks for the editing and helpful suggestions of Agent 86 volunteer editor.