End: Champagne and Make-Outs

Out of Metropolis, the long coastal highway was designated as a scenic route. They drove for over an hour, after the stop at the liquor store. To turn off from the road along a gravel track, which gave way to a little grassy sward leading up to the edge of a sheer cliff.

This far from the city lights, they could see the stars out over the water. All alone. Just the two of them and the ocean. Sipping champagne from plastic cups.

"Somehow I don't think they have champagne in Smallville," Lois Lane said, as the cool wine formed a warm, bubbly pool in her stomach.

"Oh God no," Lana Lang giggled. "We'd be getting wrecked up on moonshine and cough syrup. Robotripping. Like taking your IQ and cutting it in half."

"Is that something you and Clark got up to?" Lois asked...and then immediately regretted it.

"No. Clark was straight edge. Or would have been, if he knew what that was. The most clean-cut boy in existence," Lana said, and for a moment Lois heard a note of regret in the redhead's voice...and then Lana turned to look at Lois, those blue eyes heavily lidded, a blush beneath the freckles, and she said: "But you know something Lois? I...I always thought...I might like girls more. If I ever got a chance..."

Lois licked her lips. Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the starlight. Maybe it was just that whatever plan she had originally had for her night out had gone out the window the moment she had fingerbanged Lana Lang in the bathroom of that filthy club. All Lois knew was she stared into those big blue eyes, opened her heart, and said: "I want to eat you out on the hood of the car and watch you cum all over my face."

So they did. In a mad, drunken scramble that left their pants in the car, Lois Lane found herself on her knees on the wet grass, her face buried between Lana Lang's thighs. Dark and close and wet was the Kansas woman's cunny, salty and tangy to Lois Lane's tongue, and the farmgirl's heels rubbed against the reporter's shoulders as the reporter kept her ass from sliding off the edge of the hood as she explored her lover's anatomy.

The night was still. Lana Lang moaned softly, as if afraid to make any noise. Until Lois Lane's lips found her clit. Until the reporter sucked softly on the super-sensitive nub and tickled it with the tip of her tongue. Almost willing Lana to cut loose.

Cum for me, babe, Lois thought, as her violet eyes stared up the length of Lana's body. The redhead had pulled up her shirt to pinch and twist her nipples, her ass writhed on the hood of the car. Lana's breath came in short, hot gasps, and Lois kept it up, remembering every time one of her lovers had gone down on her, what had made her feel good, feel close to cumming.

Which is why, sucking on that clit, Lois worked a finger into that hole, the same she had violated earlier. To rub gently at the top of her tunnel, searching for the spot that would make Lana Lang go crazy...that would make her explode...

Which she did.

Lana Lang's shriek startled the owls in the trees. She thrust her pelvis against Lois Lane's face and a burst of hot liquid gushed into the reporter's mouth, overflowed, and dribbled down Lois's chin before she could swallow it. The reporter's tongue and fingers kept working at that spasming, squirting slit and for the first time in her life, Lana Lang experienced the crash of climax after climax, her whole body on fire as Lois sucked and slurped and finger-fucked her without relent.

Until finally the reporter's jaw ached, and the drunken redhead was a dripping, limp, spasming mess with tears in her eyes.

Then, and only then, did Lois stand up. There were rivulets of fluid down both of her naked thighs, cool as the breeze whipped through them from the sea. Lois licked her lips and stared at the pale globes of Lana Lang's breasts, the pink slit exposed and quivering. Two words croaked from her throat.

"Do me."

Lana did. Not on the hood of the car, because the chill of the night had set in. In the backseat, shedding the last remains of their clothes, draining the last yeasty dregs of the champagne, Lana Lang learned to eat pussy. Together, they explored each other's bodies. Found out what made them feel good. Perhaps they whispered sweet nothings to each other, in the heat of the moment, that neither would remember the next day.

Dawn found them naked, in a tangle of limbs, still in the back seat, with a headache and full bladders. Lois would always remember how they went out together to squat behind a bush and tinkle. They needed to get back to Metropolis, to shower, to get coffee and food, and...

"I'd like to do this again. Sometime soon," Lana Lang had said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at asking a woman out.

"Babe," Lois Lane had said with a slow, sly smile. "I'll eat your pussy out every day if you want me to. All you have to do is ask."

Lois loved the way Lana bit her lip when she said that. Loved too the eagerness with which Lana pressed the gas pedal. Lois Lane's night out was the start of a whole new life for both of them...and Lana Lang was eager to get there.