End: Lois Gets The Cream With Dessert

Lois Lane wasn't sure what she was feeling, as the long demonic cock slithered up her pants leg. Blaze had a little bit of trouble near the knee...the reporter straightened her leg, just an inch, to give her enough wiggle room...and all the while she was afraid that her pants were going to split. Yet when the head of that cock finally squeeze past her upper thigh and began to blindingly but unerringly aim for her pussy, the reporter realized that she was smiling.

This is fun!

It was utterly ridiculous. But how many women could feel a cock pulse along the entire length of their leg, a long warm line that led, ultimately, to the vapidly smiling woman with the thousand-yard stare sitting opposite her. Lois wanted to laugh, but more than that she was fascinated by the whole novelty of the experience. The cock head edged closer, and Lois was glad she didn't have her panties on. She wanted it to slide into her pussy.

The head had just breached her love-tunnel when the waiter arrived.

Lois was jolted out of her reverie, her face flushed and ears burning as the door opened. She turned to look at him, trying not to look like the prom queen that had left the house with a bra and panties on and returned without either.

The waiter held a great silver tray—real silver, some family antique—and set it down to reveal a set of delicately enameled cups.

"Affogato," he said, with fair pronunciation, setting a cup with a creamy glob of home-made icecream in front of Lois. "You like cream, yes?"

"Yes," Lois managed a smile as the long, worm-like cock snaked its way further into her cunny.

He returned the smile, and carefully drowned the ice cream in a shot of hot espresso. Then he turned to do the same with Angelica, who barely budged to acknowledge him, so wrapped up with what she was doing that she hardly moved.

The waiter hovered, eager to see one of the women try the dish. Lois Lane's smile didn't falter, but she picked up her spoon. The cock, she realized, wasn't hard exactly. But neither was it exactly soft. It had the kind of consistency of half-erectness, fat but floppy, that Lois often attributed to cocks after they had already cum—or, sometimes, dicks which had been pushed past all endurance and the owner was determined to cum, whether the cock was hard or not.

Whatever the case, the cock was now sliding uncomfortably deep inside of her...and crawling ever deeper. Lois wondered if it was trying to position itself right outside her cervix.

The spoon bit into the ice cream. Dark espresso, almost black, swirled as it dissolved the homemade sweat, and the smell made her mouth water.

Just as she brought the spoonful of cream and coffee to her mouth, Lois felt it: the gentlest, softest of nudges at her deepest spot. She almost spit out the sweet as she felt the warm liquid heat begin to fill her. But Lois just smiled at the waiter, who beamed with appreciation as she went back in for another spoonful. Opposite her, Blaze raised her cup to her lips and sipped.

"You're supposed to use your spoon," Lois chided. The liquid heat was filling her pussy, making a sticky mess in her pants. The reporter imagined that when Blaze withdrew, she'd have a line of cum running all the way down to her ankle...and she'd have to ride home like that.

Blaze smiled. "Do you like your cream, Lois?"

Lois swallowed another bite of the dessert. It was very good, though they both knew that wasn't what Blaze meant.

"I fear it's going to make an awful mess. How much did you cum, anyway?"

"Well, put it this way: I started over a minute ago, and I haven't finished. It is such an awfully long route..."

Human and demon grinned, united by their naughty little secret.

"If you weren't already so sure I was knocked up," Lois said as she finished her dessert. "Do you think that would do it?"

"Hmm. Probably not," Blaze admitted. "I'd have to make you cum a few times. Really make sure all that seed had gone into your womb. But I didn't want to embarrass you in front of the waiter."

"Really," Lois said, licking the last of the ice cream and coffee from her lips. "And how would you make me cum?"

Night in Metropolis is rarely quiet. The city hums, the darker parts of it awake. There is a whole world that is only seen after the witching hour. That night, if you were awake and watching, you might see two women walk arm-in-arm through Suicide Slum—and none of the inhabitants there so much as thought of intruding. It was though they were surrounded by their own little field that repulsed everyone else. Unmolested, they walked to Lois Lane's apartment building...and through the door, into the elevator, up into her floor...and no one saw or heard what happened at the end of the night, except a few muted screams of passion.

The janitor, mopping the lobby at dawn, carefully wiped away the last of the evidence. She shook her head as she swabbed up the trail of dark, oily blobs, all the way to the elevator...and inside it too. Something had been leaking...and somewhere, that morning, Lois Lane lay in Blaze's arms, and she snored as the black cream oozed quietly out from cuntlips fucked pink and raw.

An ending to the night, and a beginning to something else...but that is another story.