Gotham was an old city. The residents would often joke and laugh about how, if you listened closely, you might be able to hear the creaks and moans of the buildings, still standing after years of negligence and abandon. The city was an old man, rocking in a wheelchair, in the midst of a panicked fever dream with almost no chance of waking. In these dreams, the old man envisions and creates impossible scenes of a bat-shaped man battling with clowns, penguins, and other monstrous beings. Slowly, his dream starts to fade.
Bruce was never a fan of Gotham University. For a brief time, he'd considered it safe, and for a briefer time, he'd considered it home, but he'd never admit to liking it. As he stood in the hallway of his old dorm, he could not help but reminisce about the piss-smelling rooms, the once-a-night assaults, and the defilement of any and all food by insects or rats. His earpiece buzzed, and he heard Robin's voice squeeze through the static: "It's a false lead, father, the clown isn't here." Bruce's face turned sour beneath his black cowl. The Joker had been toying with him for the past few weeks, he was certain; public access commercials in Gotham City never featured clowns — call it superstition if you must — but recently, every other advertiser was attempting to sell their cars, food, and clothes by means of clown sponsorship. Batman would hardly have noticed, had Red Robin not pointed it out to him one evening. The clown commercials always aired at 1:16, both in the morning and at night. It was a clue, Bruce was sure, to return to Gotham U, which was on 116th street, at the time of the airing. But, to his dismay, there were no clowns in the university.
"You're right, Robin. Head home, I'll meet you there."
"We'll get him next time." Batman turned off his communicator, and began slowly walking to his old room — room 116 in the East Wing of the building — as the one last place he hoped the clown might be. As he walked, he couldn't help himself but reminisce about the other parts of his college career. Ordering pizzas at 2am, watching crappy old movies with a few classmates, or sitting alone in his dorm at night, his hand wrapped softly around his cock, jerking quickly and stifling his moans in the closest pillow. The bat-suit began to tighten around his crotch, as he wondered how much adolescent cum had been draped among the sheets of the bed, both by him and since he'd gone.
The door to the room was a mossy green, whether by design or age he did not know, but he tried the door, which he remembered always refused to lock without extensive efforts. The door gave way, feeding him into the small room that had hardly changed since he'd left. A bed shoved into the back left corner of the room, with a small television on the opposing wall; a small desk pressed against the left wall, and a door to the bathroom next to the television.. It was scantly decorated, to the point where Bruce was unsure if anyone was actually rooming there this year. He, now noticeably bothered by his protrusion of the waist, decided to climb atop the bed that had held him years before. His gloved hand brushed over top the waistband holding back his erect penis, sending chills up his spine as a hint of pleasures to come. He had never thought to jack off in the bat-suit before. His hand found it's way under the pants of his suit, and wrapped firmly around his dick. Under the soft texture of the glove, it almost felt like someone else's hand, and the realization caused his penis to bulge with excitement. As he slowly dragged his foreskin up underneath the suit, he heard the toilet in the bathroom flush, and he froze, glancing over at the room. Despite the annoyance and surprise his brain was forcing upon him, his cock kept pulsating excitedly, not deterred at all by the new development.
From the bathroom, a girl dressed as a cat with a leather, skin-tight suit stepped out. Goggles rested on her forehead as she looked down to see the bat lying on the bed, his hand unmistakably down his pants. She purred softly under her breath. Almost immediately, his hands were out of his pants, pushing himself off the bed. He quickly moved to grab Catwoman's arms and, holding them behind her back, pressed her up against the wall.
"What are you doing here, Selina?" Batman asked the leather-clad villainess. She kept purring, despite the uncomfortable armlock that Bruce held her in. "What does this have to do with the Joker?" He asked again, lifting her arms, causing her to yelp a bit in pain.
"He's mad at you, Bruce. He wants to see you squirm as your adversaries pin you, one by one, in places you once called home. No where is safe, Batman, no where is safe," she said in a faux-dramatic way, purring to herself once again afterwards.
"What's in this for you, Catwoman?" Batman asked. Catwoman and the Joker had never been allies, or even acquaintances, as far as Bruce knew. She found him course and crazy, and refused to work with him on many occasions.
"Oh, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. Don't you know, all I want is to hear you moan?" She thrust her butt backwards, lightly grazing against Bruce's still-erect penis, eliciting a small groan of Bruce that was somewhere between pleasure and awkward pain. In that moment, his grip weakened, allowing her to sneak from his grip and turn so that she was facing him. She now stood, leather bound, biting her lower lip, in front of the hero. She pulled her mask-back, revealing her treated-blonde hair which accented her shining blue eyes and supple, blood-red lips, as she pulled him in to a kiss. At first he thought to resist, but he couldn't as he felt some small wetness in his suit where he had leaked pre-cum. As they kissed, her tongue slid into his mouth and her delicate claw crept down beneath his waistband, grasping at his restrained cock. Once she'd grabbed it, she heard him gasp against her mouth, and began to move forward, rubbing her thumb against his tip, smearing it with his own pre-cum. He was now almost exclusively moaning, and she decided that the bat needed some release. She knelt down, slowly peeling away his black pants, letting his dick stand out at full mast, which she judged to be about 6-and-a-half inches. She now held a firm grip on his member, and began to slowly tease his cock, moving the foreskin up and down in a slow rhythm. As she did, Bruce fell back onto the bed in a sitting position, allowing her mobility to progress as she liked.
Purring, she moved her mouth beneath his shaft as she continued to jack him off, quickly lapping at his balls with her tongue. Bruce moaned in pleasure; Catwoman leaned in further, taking half his sac into her mouth, massaging it with her tongue, feeling more pre-cum leaking from his dick. She purred, sending vibrations from his balls to his cock and pleasure arcing through his body.
"Ahh, ugh," Bruce panted during his treatment, "Selina, I'm going to cum!" She quickly moved from his sac to lick up the length of his shaft, then continued stroking, faster and faster, hoping to affect the bat. She noticed her own suit feeling incredibly wet, and cursed herself for focusing too much on the handjob, she decided she'd have to get him later.
"Stand up, Bruce," she commanded, holding his cock in her hands. "I want you to cum on my face, Bruce, cum on my fucking face!" Batman quickly stood and she stroked him fiercely, her mouth open underneath his cockhead. "C'mon Bruce, I need it bad, I've been so naughty… I need it Bruce, I need it!" She continued to stroke him at an accelerating pace, with each tug he could feel himself getting closer and closer. "Give it to me, give it to me, I want it so bad!" Selina mused, and this begging pushed him over the edge as cum spurted from his cock onto her face and costume, some getting in her mouth, allowing her to swallow it down. "That was fun." She admitted, standing up from the ordeal, using her fingers to pull up his cum and place it in her mouth, loving the taste. "We should do it again some time," she stated, pulling the window of the dorm open and slowly crawling out.
Batman laid there, on his bed, for a bit, feeling his placid and wet cock against his skin. He pulled his pants back on, wondering if what had just happened was real, then turned his communicator back on, and informed Robin he was on his way back.
As he crawled into bed that night, Bruce couldn't help but remember his experiences with Catwoman; how she and he had been close as kids and teens experimenting with each other, and the events of the night played back again and again in his head until his penis was screaming for release. He turned his television on, finding some adult-contented channel in which a blonde girl was being fucked by two men simultaneously and wrapped his hand around his cock once again. Thus was the new ritual of the Batman.