End: A Cock

It was warm. Hard, like a finger, but too big, far too big. Lois Lane shivered, unable to move or speak as it slid into her slick slit. She was wet...far too wet. Her whole body was soaked with sweat, but her pussy was absolutely swamped, leaking. Even at her horniest, Lois couldn't remember being this wet. It was like she had pissed herself, but Lois knew it wasn't that.

A dick. A cock. Prick, prong, pecker, one-eyed snake, babystick, schlong, shaft, scepter, rod...

What am I doing? Lois asked herself. She was laying on her side, eyes fixated on the screen. The giant cunt was shaking hard as the huge vibrator mercilessly roared against the clit. The surface of the cum in the gaping pussy was shaking like a milky sea during a storm. How can I just lay here like this while she's sticking her dick inside of me? Why can't I move? Did she **** me? Hypnotize me? I mean, I can still think...feel...

Something hit the reporter's ass. Lois knew that sensation, though she hadn't felt it in months and months. It was the unmistakable slap of a pair of hairless balls against the back of her thigh. Angelica Blaze's hands grabbed the reporter's thigh, pulling it upwards. The cock began to slide in and out. Lois could feel all of it...every bump, every vein. The woman...dickgirl...whatever she was, wasn't wearing a condom. The reporter began to shake.

"Bet you like that, don't you Lois? Doesn't it feel good?" Blaze was huffing. The heat in the room was so intense, but it wasn't a dry heat. It was a wet heat. Lois felt like she was in the Amazon again. The humidity in the room had to have been climbing, and the air was heavy in her mouth. "You're doing so good now. I know what you're here for. Just like all those other little sluts. Except this time, I'm going to give it to you myself."

The wet slap of the balls against her leg resounded in Lois Lane's ears. The reporter quivered, her whole body suddenly feverish. There was some disconnect between what was happening to her and her brain. She felt so passive, listless, heavy, unable to lift a single finger to stop herself from getting railed, the cock pushing in deep and harder, faster and faster, and the heat was building in the reporter's cunny from the friction, and a familiar tingle of anticipation built up in her crotch...and Lois began to pant faster. She knew what that portended.

No. No! I can't cum, not like this, not while getting bred like a fucking cow...

"You're not talking. Not moving. I know you're wondering why," Angelica's voice dripped with smug excitement. "But I didn't do anything, Lois. You did it yourself. You want this. If you wanted to, you could climb off this bench and leave right now."

The reporter's eyes were consumed with the sight of that cunny. It was still spasming, the young woman in a chain of orgasms. The reporter's own climax was approaching fast, and she couldn't...couldn't...

Can I? She wondered. Experimentally, Lois tried to lift her arm...and it moved. She could feel it move. Her eyes were fixated on the screen, which had begun to bead with wetness as the humidity grew even thicker, rivulets of moisture running down the wall, wet streaks across the bright blazing image that was burned into Lois Lane's brain.

I can move, Lois thought to herself. So why don't I move? Why don't I leave? Why...

"Gonna cum," Angelica panted. "Gonna spunk your tight little cunt! Pump all my jizz into your womb, **** your egg..."

Just the thought of that sent Lois over the edge. It was like cumming out of a trance. Her whole body spasmed, moved from placid, dead-weight indifference to sudden action, every limb scrabbling, pussy pulsing, mouth open and howling, stinging sweat dripping into her eyes made her shut them tight, finally blocking out the bright picture of the cunt cumming and cumming and cumming...

Angelica Blaze held onto the slippery reporter as well as she could. There was no organization to Lois's movements, she wasn't trying to get away...her body simply convulsed as white hot pleasure burst inside her brain, drowned out all conscious thought, kicked her out of her malaise. Lois Lane's voice grew hoarse with a scream that could shatter ear-drums.

All through the climax, Blaze wrestled with her. Kept her cock inside of her. Fought to keep Lois from rolling off the breeding bench. Until, at last, Lois was on her back, the dickgirl looming over her, Angelica's hands pinning the reporter's wrists to the back...and the dickgirl smiled. A nasty, knowing half-smile. She waited until Lois could open her eyes again...and Lois knew it was because she wanted the reporter to see what was about to happen.

"You're dehydrated, Lois. I think your womb is thirsty. So I'm going to give it something to drink. Something it's been crying for a long time."

"No..." Lois whispered, hoarsely.

"Yes," Blaze whispered back. The dickgirl drew her cock out until only the head was still buried in her pussy.

Lois Lane had never felt anyone cum inside her before—but she felt this. It was like the breaking of a damn. A hot wet, wave gushed along the whole length of her pussy. Not a single stream or sticky strand, this was like a gallon of boiling milk had been upended inside the reporter's cunt, and Lois nearly screamed at the heat and **** and just plain weight of the cum that filled her cunny to capacity, and crashed against her cervix like it would go straight through it.

The light died. The film was over, and they lay in the darkness now. Absolute darkness, and Lois couldn't see a thing...but she felt Blaze pull out of her, and what felt like a gallon of hot spunk flowed out from between the reporter's cunt. Hot lips pressed against her stomach, just beneath the navel. Even when the dickgirl's lips left the sweat-slick skin, Lois could feel the burning heat, like the memory of a ghostpepper on the tongue.

"Farewell, Lois. I hope you remember this night...in fact, I think I can guarantee you will."

Lois closed her eyes. In the absolute darkness, it made no difference.

The alarm woke Lois. She reached over and turned it off. Her eyes opened. Awareness came back to her, and she sat up...in her own bed. Naked. On top of the sheets and blankets, not tucked in, but as though she had just come home and collapsed. The clothes she had been wearing last night scattered on the other side of the bed. Muscles ached, and Lois looked between her legs.

There was a damp, dark stain, radiating out from her pussy. The labia were red and swollen, in a way that only happened after the reporter's more vigorous masturbation sessions. Black, viscous goo dribbled out of the raw flesh.

"Great Caesar's ghost," Lois Lane whispered to herself, as she recalled the events of the night. "What have I done?"

Numbly, the reporter left the bed and staggered toward the shower. Her brain was trying not to process what had happened last night, but Lois **** herself to relive those minutes.

Was it ****? I didn't asked for it. I said no. Even if I came, I said no. That...that has to count for something, didn't it?

Hot water beat down on her. Lois ran the soap between her legs...and even pulled her labia apart, forcing the little round soap up inside of her. She knew that she shouldn't douche, that that would just drive the semen up deeper inside of her...if it was semen...it almost looked and smelled like crude oil.

She must have **** me. The water, maybe. Or the video? I wasn't myself. I didn't...I wouldn't...

Lois stared down at the water. Greyish-black blobs were dripping from her slit. The reporter sagged against the wall of the shower.

I was ****. I was ****. I was...what do I do now? Report it? Get an STD test? Plan B? God, how could I have been so stupid?

Lois Lane's night out was over, and it was not over. The events were past, but the memories would stay with her always...and the consequences, which she would have to deal with, would last far longer than her investigation into the missing women. Somehow, the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter would go on...would not let this one night define her. Yet the reality of what would happened would haunt her days and nights to come.