End: Blaze Cums In Lois Lane's Throat

The impact of the table-edge against the back of Lois Lane's head stunned the reporter—and the slight involuntary reflexive relaxation of her throat let Angelica Blaze stuff just the tiniest bit more of her cock into the reporter's throat. The swollen balls, pressed against her face, smothered her...a hot, swampy darkness of crotch-sweat that left the stunned reporter dizzy...and then she felt them pulse.

Followed, a moment later, by a liquid warmth filling her stomach.

The reporter's body lurched as the involuntary liquid lunch being pumped into her stomach fought against gravity. Blood filled the reporter's head, and the dizziness was exacerbated by a sense of spinning. Her grip on Blaze's legs loosened as she lost feeling in her limbs...and even the feel of Angelica Blaze's lips sucking on her clit could not revive the reporter's flagging consciousness. In desperation, Lois tapped on the dickgirl's ass...and perhaps that is why Blaze let the reporter fall backward, on her back, slamming into the table-top with her head hanging off the end, still stuffed full of Blaze's cock.

"I think I'm in love!" Angelica Blaze said to the bar at large, and Lois Lane's cheeks burned as she heard the answering cheers.

The cock pulled out slowly...leaving behind a trail of jizz that left Lois coughing and sputtering. Her throat felt raw and swollen, and if she was slightly more sober perhaps the reporter would be worried about permanent damage, or sucking sperm down into her lungs. Instead, she was vaguely aware that Blaze walked around the table to grab the reporter's legs and haul Lois Lane's pussy back up to her face.

It is odd the things an ****-stewed and oxygen-starved brain focuses on. Lois Lane was aware of the cum-bubble forming in her open mouth. The cheers of the upside-down bargoers as they saw this naked, drunk slut getting eaten out in public like something out of a porn video. The strange and terrible rumbles in her stomach that presaged hours on the toilet later...but above all else, Lois was aware of the urgent, pushing tongue that lashed her pussy, faster and faster, harder and harder...and when the cum bubble popped, Lois Lane heard a voice screaming her her thighs clamped tight on Angelica's head, pussy squirting all over the dickgirl's face.

When Lois realized who was screaming, she shut up.

There was a polite clapping...and then the table gave way. The reporter's head bounced against the floor, and it was lights out.

Consciousness came back to Lois Lane in her own bed, in her own apartment. She was laying naked, face-down, head hanging over the edge of the bed. Someone had tied her hair back in a bun, and the reporter stared down at a bucket of her own sick.

Lois Lane's head pounded, and she groaned slightly as her fingers explored the back of her skull, dislodged an ice pack, and found a painful lump. Her body ached. There was a terrible taste in her mouth. Then she heard bare footsteps and raised her head...just far enough to see a long, feminine pair of legs, and a cock dangling beneath the hem of one of her own button-down shirts.

"Hey sexy," Angelica Blaze said. "How do you feel?"

A part of Lois wished she didn't remember the night, but instead she remembered it too well. The drinking. The sex. The cheering crowd. She moaned, and her stomach lurched again. Blaze reached over with one hand and massaged the back of the reporter's neck.

"Poor baby. Don't worry sweetmeat, I'll take care of you."

Lois let her head hang, a thin drool oozing between her lips...followed swiftly by a whole body convulsion, and a thick gob of something disgusting dropping down into the bucket.

"We'll call you in sick," Blaze cooed. "Get you some fluids. A bath. A little food, when your stomach can handle it. And maybe a little lovin'..."

The dickgirl's hand ran down the valley of the reporter's back and settled on Lois Lane's ass, giving it a soft squeeze. The reporter was too hungover to object. She felt like she was going to die. And then possibly vomit again.

"Hair of the dog," Blaze said as she kept squeezing the reporter's ass. Her fingers worked slowly deeper into the reporter's crack, until two fingers rubbed at the exposed slit. "A few little orgasms and you'll feel a lot more like your old self."

Lois Lane cinched her eyes tight, moaning through the pain. The only thing more terrible than her night out...was finding that it had followed her home.