"What Kind of Encouragement?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with," Blaze said, her voice a bit husky.

Lois couldn't stop staring at the cock, which was right in front of her face now. The reporter's warm breath flowed over the head, and the whole cock seemed to twitch, rising gently a few degrees so that it pointed at Lois Lane's nose rather than her mouth.

"For starters...why don't you take off that robe? I've shown you mine..."

The reporter blinked. She shook her head, wondering if the **** or the **** was still affecting her...or if it was just that there was a half-naked hermaphrodite in her own kitchen. Yet Lois didn't feel drunk, exactly. More like...horny. Her pussy felt weirdly wet at the moment, and the reporter remembered that it had been a long time since she'd had sex. That's what this felt like, anyway. Foreplay. Two people feeling each other out, preparing themselves for the act.

That must be it, the reporter decided as she backed her chair away from that cock. She stood up, her hand going to the belt of her robe. It slipped off of her like a bright leaf falling from a tree, and in that moment Lois Lane stood bare and naked before Angelica Blaze...her body slim and fit, a head shorter than the dickgirl, her small teardrop-shaped breasts small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, her slim buttocks toned and firm from years of regular exercise.

Lois kept only a trim strip of black bush above her vulva, which was little more than a crease where her creamy thighs met, her belly flat and smooth. Yet now she could feel the dampness down there, running down her legs in thin rivulets, and the reporter wondered if she could feel it too.

"Did you want to touch it?" Blaze asked, moving forward just an inch while Lois held her ground.

The reporter reached out a hand...her skin was paler than the dickgirl's, the cock had that olive complexion that Lois associated with peoples from the Mediterranean. Even breathing shallowly, Lois could smell that strong, masculine scent. The fingers of her left hand pressed against the head of that cock...which seemed to swell further against even this tiny stimulation, the rubbery glans now hard, a drop of fluid appeared at the tip.

I can't remember the last time I touched a dick.

Lois was strongly aware of her bed, only ten feet behind her. The note that she had written to herself. She knew that she shouldn't be doing this, that she should be asking about the missing women, the guy who had roofie'd her...but instead the question that came from her lips was:

"Do you have a condom?"

Angelica Blaze didn't move. But the clear drop at the end of her cock swelled, growing bigger and heavier, until it dropped and ran down the underside of the glans in a way that made Lois Lane's mouth water.

"No. Is that a problem?" There was restrained need there...great restraint. Lois knew how this must look with her naked, touching Angelica's dick. A part of her knew that there were plenty of men that would have lurched forward, gathered them in their arms, pinned her against the table or against the floor as they tried to spread her legs and spear her. Yet Blaze was keeping her distance, waiting...almost...asking for permission.

"We can stop," Angelica said. "If you're not ready. If you don't...I mean, I thought we were having a moment and I...but if you don't want to I can..."

A shiver went through the reporter's body. She looked up from the cock she was touching to Blaze's face, and then back down. It was though she didn't know where to look, what to say. Body and mind were struggling to make a decision but...she had already come this far...and Angelica wasn't trying to **** her. That made the decision entirely Lois Lane's.