A Superhero Love Story

Sometimes, halfway through a blowjob or a wankjob, Michael liked to pause and think about how lucky he was. It wasn’t just anyone who got to bang a Starbucks employee in a bodice and star-spangled hot pants. He’d stopped minding that she kept her boots on in bed, and he’d almost stopped minding that she called him Batman during sex.

‘Fuck me like Batman!’ she’d shout, bouncing up and down on his penis. ‘Go on, Michael! Do it like Batman!’ And afterwards she’d lie with her head on his chest, and ask him to tell her all about his childhood.

‘What was it like, living in a cave with all those bats?’ she’d ask.

‘It was… interesting,’ he’d say.

‘And what was it like in Gotham City? I’ll bet it was spooky.’

‘No, actually,’ he told her. ‘I liked it. It was exciting.’

‘I bet it was,’ she’d say, moving her hand further south. ‘All those Bruce Wayne groupies!’ The very mention of Gotham City was an aphrodisiac. Michael, who had left his imagination for dead when he passed his English GCSE, discovered not only that he was good at inventing things, but that he enjoyed doing it. He rescued his comic books from the attic, and read them from cover to cover. He kept a stack by the toilet, and read under his desk at work.

But he’d learnt the hard way that Wonder Woman could get nasty. A leading question about Cat Woman’s PVC suit had spiralled into an evening of tears, recriminations, and several extremely tenuous allegations, which he agreed to and apologised for just to shut her up. It’s a funny old world, he thought, when the only way to placate your girlfriend is to pretend you’ve had your dick sucked by a fictional superhero.

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