End: A Jug of Wine, A Loaf of Bread—and Thou

Lois Lane blinked for a moment, trying to recall where she had heard that line.

"Omar Khayyam, right?" The reporter said.

"Love the Rubaiyat," Lana Lang said with a nod. "But seriously. I need food. ****. Adult companionship."

There are times in every person's life when an opportunity presents itself. Lois had seen some of those come and go this night. Roads she could have taken, choices she could have made. Not all the right ones. Yet now she saw another opportunity, and she decided to seize out.

"How about we order pizza at my place, kill a bottle of wine while watching old movies, and I'll eat your pussy until you fall asleep?" The reporter said.

Lana Lang stared at her, mouth open...and then she said, in a very small and almost pitiful voice:

"Fucking please?"

So they did. Out of the bathroom and into the club. Hands together as they plunged through the crowd and back to the street. Into the cab that took them far away from the madness and up to Lois Lane's apartment.

Lana borrowed a toothbrush. They took turns showering, washing the last of the black sludge from their bodies. One of the reporter's t-shirts served the redhead as a nightgown. The pizza arrived, the wine was open...and on the reporter's television screen a black-and-white Universal Mummy marathon began.

There was something so homely about it all. Red wine. Greasy pepperoni. Naked except for their shirts, eyes locked on the screen as Boris Karloff seduced the reincarnation of his ancient love. Lana knew how to be quiet during a film. Yet they both knew what was going to happen...and Lois felt the naked knee press against her own as Lana widened her stance. As fingers slid down to rub that freckled pussy, while cramming another slice of pizza into her face.

Before the bottle of wine was empty, Lois couldn't take it anymore. She moved down onto her knees, lifted Lana's shirt and held it over her own head like a tent as her mouth kissed its way down toward its prize.

Why can't all relationships be like this? Lois wondered, as her tongue slid over and into Lana's snatch, freshly cleaned and wet with anticipation. Why do we have to beat around the bush instead of just saying 'gee, I wish someone would eat my pussy?'

Lana Lang moaned around a mouthful of cheese and dough, and Lois felt the thin thighs spread wider, Lana sinking down into the couch to give her lover better access...and Lois explored that hot little cleft, felt the stubble of hair, tasted the salty juice in her little cup...let the smell of that pussy envelop her.

Maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it wouldn't last forever. Yet it was here, and now, and two people had found each other to give the relief that both desperately needed...and the demon Blaze, down beneath her club, cursed in frustration at how her plans had gone so awry.

"You may have won this time, Lois Lane," the demon swore. "But I'll get you...and that ginger bitch whose cunt you're sucking too!"

Blaze would try again...yet that is another story.