End: ...Until You're Addicted To My Cock

The bedsprings creaked. Lois Lane's ass burned, from lube and booze and above all else, cock. The drunken reporter shivered as Blaze knelt above her, and the dickgirl's cock sawed in and out of the reporter's tight little hole like a dog mounting a bitch...and in her **** state, it was all Lois could do not to bark.

She hadn't known what she expected. Pain, maybe...but if there was pain, Lois was too drunk to register it. Pleasure, perhaps...but it wasn't like getting fucked in her pussy at all. Lois could hardly feel the cock pound deep inside of her colon, but her asshole itself...that ring of muscle, slick with lube, loosened by booze...that burned, and not unpleasantly. It was such an intense sensation, to feel that fat, throbbing cock stretch her little hole. The wap-wap-wap of the balls as they slapped against her taint, the way Blaze's hands gripped her hips as she pounded Lois without mercy or stopping...it triggered something in Lois Lane. Something she had never experienced before.

I think...I think I could get addicted to this, the drunken reporter thought blearily.

Her toes curled. Boney ass in the air, back curved, hard nipples on her small tits ground into the bed. The creak of the bedsprings was like a lullaby, the pillow she bit was wet with her saliva, the violet eyes rolled up in her head...and still Blaze hammered away at her ass with a steady pace. As if she were a construction worker using a jackhammer to pound a piece of particularly recalcitrant cement into dust.

For those few hours, Lois Lane ceased to be a human being. She was a lump of meat. A fucktoy. Semi-conscious, her every thought and emotion trained on the asshole that was slowly being reshaped by Blaze's cock. Until the pillow fell out of her nerveless jaw and the drunken reporter began a single ongoing monologue of obscenities.

"...fuckmysluttyassholeharderharderharderdaddyI'vebeenabadgirlbutmyassfeelssosogoodIneeditIcan't livewithoutitpleasefatherIhavesinnedithasbeennineyearssincemylastconfessionandallIwantisthiscockinmyassasabsolutionfrommysinsfuckfuckfuckmemoreIwanttotasteyourcumwithmyassholetryandmakemyasspregnantplease..."

The stream-of-consciousness ramble poured out of the reporter's mouth, every filter gone, every sexual impulse and fantasy laid bear as Blaze let her cock slide in deep. The demon's lips curled into a toothy grin as she saw the reporter's asshole stretch around her dick, the flesh of the orifice fucked pink and raw, the head pulling at it from inside every time it threatened to pull out...and Blaze wanted only one thing more.

"Tell me you're addicted to my cock," she whispered hoarsely. "Tell me you love my cock and you want me to fuck your ass always and forever."

"Yes! Yesss. Alwaysh." Lois slurred. "Jus'...just fuckin....cum in me...I love your cock. Love...fuck...ass...cum...more..."

"Good enough," Blaze said...and she pushed balls deep as she unloaded the ass of sperm she had built up all night.

Sometimes, after a long, pounding fuck, the jizz just shoots out as sticky rope after rope...and sometimes, it oozes out in a steady stream, like a mud geyser bubbling up from deep underground. Lois Lane would never be able to remember exactly what happened. All she would know is that she would feel this unnatural liquid heat fill her bowels...trickle down into her tummy...and that at last Blaze would half-collapse on top of her, dick still embedded firmly in Lois Lane's butt.

That was how Lois awoke, some hours later. The bar was quiet. Her head pounded. Guts churned. Something had died in her mouth. Dire necessity saw the naked, hungover reporter stagger out of bed, clutching her stomach as she sought...and found...the small bathroom. Plopped onto the seat only half a moment before the rectal explosion began to expel last night's cum and booze.

A minute later, Blaze, still in her cowboy boots and wearing Lois Lane's jacket, wandered in with a cup of black coffee. The reporter accepted it eagerly...and watched, with strange fascination, as the dickgirl levered her cock and balls over the edge of the sink and turned on the tap. With handsoap, the dickgirl began to scrub the pale, flaccid cock.

"There's an enema under the sink," Blaze said, without looking at the reporter as she rinsed her dick clean. "I'm going to make another cup of coffee. If you want another load of jizz in your ass...clean yourself out and be bent over the sink when I come back."

Blaze left. Her wet cock dripped on the floor, wet drops marking her trait...and the reporter shook as she considered the dickgirl's words. Not that there was any real doubt what Lois Lane's choice would be.

The enema kit was right where she said it was.

By the time Blaze came back, the reporter was bent over the sink, clean inside and out...and the dickgirl grew hard, to see Lois Lane spreading her ass cheeks and waiting for her.

"I hope you enjoyed your night out, sweetmeat," Blaze said. "Because I'm going to spend so much time in your ass, you might as well charge me rent!"

Lois Lane wanted to laugh...but another, deeper part of her wanted it to be true. Something had awoken inside of her last night...something she couldn't name, but she knew now what she wanted...and as Blaze poured some lube on the tip of her dick and rubbed it against the reporter's asshole, Lois Lane hoped to get it good and hard.