A Nice Cream Pie

"What's long and hard and full of semen?" The Crown Prince of Crime asked, as Lois Lane stroked his penis.

It was longer than she thought it would be, with greenish veins showing beneath the inhuman white skin. Even the head looked perfectly white, as though bleached, with a ragged circumcision scar that almost looked like the top had been cut off and sewn back in place. It was warm and hard beneath her hands, skin dry and weirdly smooth. The hairless balls that hung underneath looked positively unhealthy, like a pair of mottled eggs in a too-large bag.

Lois Lane, stripped naked and waiting for the knock at the door, smiled sweetly, head still buzzing from the coke. Her hand bobbed around the head of his dick.

"I don't know, what?" hoping that was the right answer.

"A submarine!" The Joker howled.

They laughed together, the unforced kind of laughter of two people sharing a joke. But there was still that edge between them. The potential for ****. She could see it in his eyes.

"How is a girlfriend like a laxative?" He said, the smile on his face a kind of rictus.

Lois knew this one. "They both irritate the shit out of you."

"Yes, exactly." He said flatly. "Harley always did have a way of getting up my ass...and not always the fun way, with the rubber gloves and the olive oil."

His voice was bitter now, the mood suddenly hostile. Lois pumped his dick a little harder. She needed to get him back in a playful mood, before the knife came out again.

"Hey," she said, forcing a smile, "what's the difference between a whore and a **** dealer?"

The Joker's eyes fixated on her, a piercing gaze, breath panting a little. Precum was drooling out of his cockhead.

"What's that?"

"A whore can wash her crack and re-sell it," Lois said, straight-faced with the delivery.

A pause. The corners of his mouth twitched...and he began to laugh. A deep, belly laugh, almost mechanical, his whole body folding until she was afraid he was going to try and lip the tip of his own dick, spine as flexible as rubber...and then the eyes fixed on her again.

"That was a good one." He said. "Tell me another."

The knock at the door saved her. Without waiting, a woman opened the door, pushed in a tray on wheels, and closed it.

The warm scent of two fresh-baked banana cream pies entered the room.

"Excellent," he said. "Now we can begin."