End: Clark Kent's Cock Fills Out Lois Lane's Ass Like An Application

It wasn't what Lois Lane wanted. Not the hard primal ass-**** that she had thought would satisfy her. Scratch that itch. Treat her like the dirty fucking slut she was. A whore, a bitch, a dirty girl. Clark Kent's cock was bigger than that. His massive body cradled and cupped hers, so strong yet so gentle, infinitely patient, superhumanly tender.

It wasn't the fuck that Lois Lane wanted, but it was the lovemaking that she hadn't known she needed.

Just resting with her buttocks against his balls made Lois Lane's asshole quiver as though her sphincter would snap like a rubber band. Clark's big hands cupped her ass, stroked her thighs, massaged her lower back. She found herself clutching onto his big body, pressed her face between those massive pecs. Lois Lane felt as if she was floating on his cock, grinding her body against his, feeling the pulse of his dark as the great vein along his prick throbbed inside her stuffed ass.

Lois Lane had heard of sexual healing, yet she had never experienced it. Not until Clark began to kiss her forehead, her face. She raised her head to meet them, and their lips met. Any other man would have devoured her then, rammed his tongue down her throat, **** her to bounce on his dick until her tight little hole tore and he dumped his seed inside of her like a broken condom.

Not Clark Kent. Never her Smallville. The reporter's heart fluttered and pounded in her chest as her hips began to move and grind, just a little, slowly at first. Unable to keep her pussy from leaking. From moaning softly as Clark's balls rose and lightly tapped her buttocks. They rocked back and forth, the head of his dick buried deep in her guts, and Lois knew right then that she could never go back after this. The fuck was too perfect. Too super.

She broke the kiss. Looked at him. Then took off his black plastic frames. A single lock of hair fell across his forehead, in a characteristic S-shape...and Lois smiled as she put the glasses back on.

"Smallville," she said. "Promise me something?"

"Anything," Clark said.

"I don't think I can go back after this," she said. Her smile felt wrong, her face hurt. She wasn't used to smiling this much, to being this happy...or this afraid. "I don't think I can live with the idea of you never fucking my ass again. Promise me...promise me that this isn't going to be the last time."

Clark's face grew suddenly serious. She saw something in him then...an older, more mature self.

"Lois, I'll make love to your ass every night for the rest of your life, if you want," he said somberly.

Lois giggled. She tried to squeeze her ass, but it was like trying to use a fire hydrant as a dildo. Her ass gripped him tight, but she had no doubt when he pulled out, he would leave her gaping empty, hollowed out...and she was eager to feel that.

"Yes," she said. "Oh Clark, please. I'll be yours. Whatever you want of me. Your girlfriend, your jizz rag, whatever you want me to be."

He didn't say anything...but holding her butt with one hand, he let Lois hand off him as the thumb of his free hand found her clit. The reporter sucked in her breath as the thick pad of that thumb pressed against her little joy buzzer...and then it began to vibrate, a mere blur against her clit...and then Lois Lane screamed.

In shock. In joy. In adulation. In ecstasy.

As the electric pulse of her pleasure exploded outward from her groin, the reporter arched her body, and her eyes rolled up in her head. Perhaps, in that moment, she saw God.

In her lair beneath the club, the demon Blaze scowled. She could feel the despicably pure pleasure of Lois Lane's climax from here. The thread of the demon's influence was burned away in a sharp shock of psychic feedback, and the scarlet succubus hissed in pain.

"You win this one, Superman," Blaze said. "But I will snare Lois Lane...on her next night out!"

So the demon vowed...but there was nothing but the darkness to hear her. Lois Lane, for her part, hung off Clark Kent's cock, vaguely aware of the hot, sticky ropes that began to pack her bowels as the Man of Steel finally reached his own limit. There would be bemused glances from passers-by as the lovers, with their disheveled clothing and sappy smiles, finally emerged...Lois hugging onto Clark Kent's arm, legs too weak to walk straight otherwise, struggling to hold in an ass-full of super-jizz.

There were worse ways to end a night out.