End: Blaze Chooses The Anal Sluts

"If you ever want to fuck, call me," Blaze said, pressing her phone number into Lois Lane's hand.

The reporter felt kind of numb as she found herself on the sidewalk outside the club. Blaze had taken about five seconds to decide between a life of guilt-free anal sex and blowjobs and a monogamous relationship with the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter.

Lois began to walk home.

"Unbelievable," she mumbled to herself, not even really noticing the crowds of people. "I've been fucked like a cheap slut, and...what the hell did I think was going to happen? She has four live-in asses to fuck whenever she wants, owns her own gloryhole, and I'm...I'm..."

She placed a hand on her flat midriff.

"I'm knocked up. Probably. I mean, it can take hours for conception to occur but I should...I mean, I guess I should get some Plan B and..."

Lois couldn't finish that thought. She was all about a woman's right to choose. But she knew what this woman's choice would be.

Except now she was pregnant and single. The perfect Murphy Brown scenario. She was going to start getting sick in the morning, and would need medical appointments and get fat and...Lois sighed as she felt a drop of jizz slide down her inner thigh.

No one was going to fuck her now. It had been months since she'd been laid before tonight, busy as she was with life and work but now? Who wanted to fuck a single mom-to-be?

Her eyes went down to the devil's number in her hand. Blaze, probably. Maybe Lois could work that angle a bit, call her over for casual sex and...and what? Try and convince her not to fuck other people? It hadn't taken the demonic dickgirl more than a minute to figure out which side of her bread was buttered on.

"Not going to cry," the reporter told herself after the doorman let her into her apartment building.

"Not going to cry," she told herself in the mirrored metallic finish of the elevator as she rode up to her floor.

"Not going to cry," she whispered as she fumbled with the lock on her door. Crumpling the card with Blaze's number on it in her other hand.

"Not going to..."

Blaze was in her kitchen, naked, crimson cock erect, staring around at the darkened room...and then her pure white eyes focused on Lois.

"So, I've been thinking. And the thing is, the only one I want to fuck is you."

The cock twitched, drooling pre-cum onto the reporter's floor.

Deep inside her, emotions roiled within the reporter. Anger, relief, horniess, and something soft and warm and squishy that might have been... Lois didn't want to name that. She closed the door.

"I should be furious at you," Lois said as she took off her jacket and laid it on the back of a kitchen chair, her eyes never leaving Blaze's.

"I know." Blaze said.

"That really hurt," Lois continued as she kicked off her heels.

"I'm sorry," Blaze did a reasonable job of looking contrite.

"If we do this, I still won't stand for you to fuck anyone else."

The demon paused as Lois took off her shirt and let it hit the floor, standing there in her bare breasts and already squeezing out of her pants.

"No excuses. If this is going to work... If you want your cock sucked, I'll suck it. If you have to fuck an ass, it's my ass and no one else's."

Lois stood naked before the demon and poked a finger into her crimson sternum.

"If I'm not enough for you, then I'll raise this baby myself. Capiche?"

A little black goo drizzled out of the tip of the demon's dick and hit the floor with a wet splat.

"Okay," Blaze said simply.

"Good," Lois took a deep breath and smiled. "Good. Now get on the bed. It's been a long night, a long walk, and I want a warm load of spunk in my pussy before I go to bed, and another when I wake up."

Communication and honesty, Lois Lane told herself as she grabbed the dickgirl's face and brought it to her own mouth, her tongue hungrily pushing past those perfect fangs. Are the cornerstones of any relationship.

Whether Blaze could live up to such promises...is another story.