Maeve

There’d been a murder on Fourth and Egan. Tim was to get to the crime scene and look for evidence. The cops had already been over it and Oracle had access to their findings, but Batman wouldn’t be satisfied with that. He’d want one of his operatives to be sure they hadn’t missed anything.

So Tim scaled a drainage pipe, mentally counting off the floors he was ascending. He could’ve used a grapple-gun, but he wanted to get in some physical exertion before he got down to the long, boring work of going over the crime scene.

A light flicked on next to him. Tim froze against the building’s masonry, trusting his dark cape to camouflage him. There was a light now burning in a window of the floor he was on and Tim instinctively turned his head to look inside and see if anyone had clocked his presence.

Instead, he saw into a middle-aged woman’s bedroom. She had her back to him and, as he watched, dropped her bath towel away from her pale skin. Tim’s eyes grew huge as he automatically studied her tall, sleek body—her tiny waist—her perfectly shaped ass. Long dark hair was still wet from the shower she’d taken and as she stood there, naked, she started to comb it out, humming to herself. Tim felt his cock beginning to stiffen.

He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t look away. This woman had an incredible body, slender but with pendulous breasts—he could see their jiggling contours from behind her. Tim hoped she would turn around so he could get a better look at him. On the other hand, if she did turn around, she would see him.

Tim quickly glanced around, finally seeing a ledge ringing this floor of the building. He stepped off the drainage pipe and onto the ledge, inching around a corner of the geometrically shaped apartment block. Then he popped his head back around the corner to watch. That was more like it. She wouldn’t be able to tell he was watching her without happening to look at his carefully hidden face. And just as Tim finished concealing himself, the naked woman turned around.

Tim’s prick hardened into solid stone as he ogled the woman’s front, her fantastically sized breasts and dark little bush. She strode across the room—passing from one window to another—to where she opened up a dresser drawer and began picking up bras and panties to consider them. She held a white lace bra against her sizable breasts, but didn’t otherwise try them on. Instead, she turned to a dresser mirror and studied her body. Tim didn’t know what fault she could possibly find with it. Everything he could see was sleek and firm and creamy. Her large breasts didn’t seem to sag at all.

Evidently, the woman agreed, liking what she saw in her reflection. She strutted back and forth a few times, having no idea the shoe she was putting on for Tim Drake. He thought she was the sexiest woman in the world as she paraded before that mirror, her luscious breasts jiggling. His eyes dropped to the neat triangle of hair between her thighs and he wished she’d spread her legs to make a spectacle of that feminine territory as well. Then, Tim got his wish.

The woman stopped and faced the mirror squarely. She folded back the hair-dark folds of her cunt and touched her fingers to her clit. Sighing softly—Tim could see the look on her face—she rubbed the sensitive pink bud with the pad of her index finger. Tim could only imagine the tantalizing stabs of enjoyment that went through her body, making the muscles clench and unclench, the skin goosepimple, the hair stand on end. He wondered if she was feeling so horny that she needed some relief, as when he masturbated, or if this was just a way of whetting her appetite for something to come later.

The woman stepped away from the mirror, back to the dresser, to put on the white bra and matching panties. Tim nearly groaned with need. His stiff erection felt like it would tear its way out of his costume. He almost wanted to masturbate, but the unknowing striptease the woman had put on was already coming to an end. He was torn between trying frantically for a quick, hard orgasm or restraining himself and forcing his arousal down, at least until later. Am I really going to jack off against the side of a building, twelve stories up?

He tried to imagine how it would feel to sink his engorged cock into the woman’s steamy pussy, or between her big matronly breasts. It wasn’t a feeling he could easily call up. He’d gone on a few dates with Steph and Cass, but despite his friend’s Kon excitement over him dating two women at once, the fact was that Steph and Cass were dating each other. He was a friend with benefits, and the benefits amounted to some handjobs and one blowjob.

He hated to leave. He could have gone on watching the woman a lot longer, especially as now she was examining herself in her skimpy bra and panties, the lingerie almost better than she’d looked naked. But the longer he watched, the more he’d be tempted to indulge himself, and Tim made a hard, fast decision that he wouldn’t cum against some brick and mortar. He’d already embarrassed himself enough by being a peeping tom. Ignoring his fiercely throbbing member, he started back up the drain pipe, trusting his erection would go away as he got down to business.

Tim hadn’t really been worried about someone catching him in the act, no matter how crowded the Batcave was getting recently—but if someone had, they would surely have wondered why Tim was focused so attentively on a darkened window into another empty Gotham room…

***

Maeve walked up the flagstone path to the front door of Tim’s house, wearing a pair of skimpy jean shorts that bared the lower half or so of her ass and a tanktop that strained in the front with her full, braless breasts. Both were in black, as were her panties, as was the chrome-studded leather belt she wore around her waist. Her full lips were black, her wild eyes were enshrined in dark kohl, and her hair was black as pitch, black as the spiked dog collar that ran around her neck. Her skin, paradoxically, was pale, almost albino if it weren’t evident that her milky whiteness had been accentuated by make-up. A septum piercing finished off her look, its bone-white horseshoe putting the crowning touch on her creamy pallor.

She imagined Tim’s face when he saw her and wanted to coo with how wet she felt. She had to fuck him. Remembering the enormous hard-on he’d sported after seeing her the night before, she felt as desperate for it as he must’ve been.

She knocked on the front door and waited. She wasn’t worried about Tim’s father or stepmother answering and seeing her in her revealing get-up. She’d already arranged for them to be out of the picture. Tim was home alone, but he soon wouldn’t be.

A minute later, Tim answered it, eyes scrutinizing her—then his jaw sagged at the sight of the prototypical big tiddy goth gf on his doorstep, twenty years old if she were a day.

“Hi, Timmy,” Maeve said cheerfully. “We met the other night, remember? I thought I’d come over so we could get to know each other better. Mind if I come in?”

An embarrassed blush spread over Tim’s face, although it was just to have such an attractive woman calling on him, not because he’d made the connection between her and the mature, voluptuous woman he’d spied on the night before.

“Of course,” Tim said nervously, holding open the door for her and taking Maeve’s word that they had met. As a detective, he might’ve realized how hard-pressed he’d be to forget a girl like Maeve, but as a teenage boy, anything she said about wanting to get to know him better was fine with him. “Nice of you to stop by.”

The living room was well furnished but in Tim’s parents’ aged taste, not his own. Maeve crossed the room and sat down on an old sofa. Tim sat down in an easy chair across from her. His eyes were riveted to her, though he managed to avoid staring at her breasts to instead watch her pretty face.

“I’m sorry, you seem familiar, but where exactly did we meet?” Tim asked suddenly. “I had a real long night yesterday…”

“Yeah, between being Robin and having some new material for your spank bank, I bet you were kept up.” Maeve clapped her hands in delight. “Standing in front of my window and scoping out my tits like you were trying to find out what size bra to get me. You naughty boy! That’s okay, though. I like naughty.”

Tim’s polite look collapsed into a fearful frown, while the obscene feel of the moment made Maeve’s pussy clench.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not Robin and I’ve certainly never spied on you, ever.”

“Oh!” Maeve cooed. “You’re really putting some spice on that second denial. I guess you’re proud of being Robin, not so much of that other thing. It’s okay, Tim. I was putting on a show. I wanted you to see me. You really think a lot of women give themselves lapdances in the mirror?”

“But that wasn’t you!” Tim cried. “She was middle-aged—you’re young enough to be her daughter—and I’m not Robin!”

“Of course you’re not. And Bruce isn’t Batman and Dick isn’t Nightwing and that cute couple you’re letting split your love life aren’t Batgirl and Spoiler. Tim. It’s okay.” Maeve waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t care about a little thing like that.”

“How do you know all this?” Tim stammered. “Who’s been telling you these things?”

“No one. I just know. The same way I just knew you were looking at me last night. I can feel these things. Even though you are very good at hiding.” Maeve lowered her voice to a purr. “You’re also good at not looking at my tits, but I know you want to. And if you want to, why don’t you just ask me to take off my top? I wouldn’t have come here if I weren’t ready to take it off…”