Deal

Lois stared at the one-eyed monster. On her knees, she stared at the unprepossessing demonic prick and something in her ****-muddled brain was fascinated by the pale purple head, the slit that weeped clear pre-cum. She tried to hold her breath, and hiccuped.

The sudden proximity of the meat hit Lois strongly. She could smell it, musky and masculine—yet there was an odor underneath she recognized from the morgue, the sweet stench of **** and decay.

The reporter's heart thudded in her chest as she contemplated what she was about to do. On her knees, to suck the devil's cock. Hesitantly, Lois reached out with her right hand and ran her fingers over the top of the cock. It was cold—shockingly cold—and it didn't warm in her hand. She let her palm slide over it, to feel the soft sensitive skin.

Her fingers curled over it into a grip, thumb and index finger met around the middle, as her index finger played about the head. The bulbous cap was like an ancient Greek helmet in chocolate that flared at the back, the spongy flesh bloated and taut.

Without being told, Lois gripped it a little tighter. Felt the chill through her fingers, almost sucking the heat out of her. Began to stroke it. The trick was not to tug, but to slid her hand over the skin, generate a bit of friction. She let the ring of her fingers place over the head, felt the drops of cold pre-cum on her fingers as they ran down from that slit. Her face was so close to the cock now that Neron could probably feel Lois' hot breath play on his dick...

Lois realized that she was panting.

On her knees, face-to-cock, she planted her lips write on the tip. Felt the chilly dribble of pre-cum, and opened her lips just enough to let the edge of her tongue play on the slit. The taste was watery, faint, and slightly salty. Like tears.

The reporter let her lips envelop the head entirely, a chilly intruder in her mouth, her tongue ran around the flared cap. Scent and flavor mingled, sweat and precum. Instinctively, Lois' cheeks and jaw began to move. Her hand began to work the shaft again, as she sucked on the head, first gently, and then with greater vigor as that familiar flavor tingled on her tongue. An insistent vacuum.

It was like sucking on an icicle. Before a few seconds were up her tongue and lips were practically numb, and it her jaw began to ache. She shivered, not from lust, but from the cold as the demonic prick seemed to chill the very air in her lungs. Yet she continued on, gamely. In her mind she imagined herself in a sunswept beach, with nothing but a bikini, watching the studs go by...sucking on her icy-pop, teasing them with her technique as she licked and slurped the long melting length, making quite a mess...and as they got hard, so did her nipples, a trace of dampness in her pussy as she thought about what she was doing to them...

There was not even a grunt. Barely a warning tremble. Then an icy spurt hit the back of her throat, so cold it burned. Lois coughed as the rapidly wilting cock fell out of her mouth, and the watery spunk, thin and grey dripped from her mouth and onto the floor.