End: Lois Has To Tell The Truth

"You're starting to feel it, aren't you?" Angelica Blaze said, as the naked reporter stepped back into the office. Lois moved slowly as she shut the door. The moon cup inside of her pussy wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she thought it would be.

The dickgirl was naked herself, sitting on the loveseat, stroking her hard cock. Lois had heard about edging—when a man masturbated, brought himself to the edge of masturbation, and sort of held it there for as long as he could, to make his ejaculation bigger, longer. She supposed the same thing could work with dickgirls. On the table was a small pile of white powder. A razor blade, and a straw. Lois struggled not to look at it, not to bury her face in it.

"Feel what?" Lois said, though she had a feeling she knew what the **** dealing dickgirl meant. Her body was feeling shaky, her energy flagging, and she had to resist the effort to sniff. It was amazing that so soon after tasting cocaine for the first time, she could recognize that her body wanted more. A bad habit to get into.

"The hunger," Blaze eyed her carefully as the reporter stopped by the desk. Lois bent her knees a little and reached up inside herself. Her thighs were slick with what she hoped was just pussy juice. Fingers slid around the malleable little cup, pinched...and drew it down...and out.

"Your drink," the reporter said.

"Oh, that isn't for me," the dickgirl gave that Mona Lisa smile. "That's for you. Drink it."

Lois took a breath. She knew the part she was playing, and what she hoped to gain from it, but this was a step too far...

"Drink it, and you'll earn another line," Blaze told her.

That changed things...and the reporter's heart sank when she realized that. She brought the moon cup to her lips, and threw her head back. Liquor burned down her throat. Barely a mouthful, mixed up with her own secretions...and probably some of Blaze's cum. It hit her stomach like a brick, and when Lois brought her face forward, the dickgirl was staring at her with naked admiration.

"You need it, don't you?" The dickgirl asked.

Some of the pretense dropped from Lois. She felt tired. Too tired to fight, to keep up the game. Ready and willing to crawl back on that cock as long as there was a bump of coke at the end of it. Just enough to get her through the night.

"Yes."

"Some people are like that," Blaze said. "Addictive personalities. Coke suits them. An expensive habit, though. Too expensive for...what is it you do again?"

"I'm a whore," Lois said. Somewhat shocked by how easily the lie came out.

"No, I don't think so." Blaze stared at her. "The truth, now. Who are you really? Why did you come here?"

Lois looked from Blaze to the coke and back again. Cock to coke, coke to cock, like a tennis match, her heart beating, the little surge of adrenaline a mouse fart compared to the hurricane that was cocaine. She could feel herself start to shake, start to sweat...it was too soon for her to go through withdrawal, too soon for her...

"Tell me the truth," the dickgirl said, precum dribbling over her fingers, "and you can help yourself."

It came out. Slowly at first. Lois tried to keep some things out, but it was like a floodgate opening. Her mouth chattered away, her whole body suddenly covered with gooseflesh, a liquid ache in her stomach, and she felt faint. Blaze nodded, asked a question or two. Good interview technique, the reporter realized, to keep the subject talking, focused...and then Lois was finished. She felt more utterly naked than before, her true identity known.

Blaze nodded. "Good girl. I knew you were no whore. Help yourself."

Lois bent over the desk. Her hands shook, and she steadied them as she cut a rough line. Not too much...she didn't know what her tolerance was, but she had enough self-control to not just bury her face in the white pile. Just enough to take the edge off, so she could think clearer, so she could...

Something warm and hard slid between her legs.

"I think we're going to be good friends, Lois," Angelica Blaze said, as she slipped her cock inside of the reporter. The woman shuddered, her whole being focused on the straw at her nose, aiming it at the white pile of blow beneath her.

"I'll give you all the coke you want," the dickgirl said as she slid her cock home, until the top of the reporter's thighs pressed into the hard wood of the desk. "Whenever you want it. I'll help you find those missing women. I know so many secrets. I'll be your source. All I want..."

Finger pressed against her free nostril. Sharp inhale. A sudden burning pain all through her sinuses, the back of her mouth...and then it was quickly going numb, and Lois felt her heart begin to beat faster. With steadier hands, she began to shovel the blow into another line.

"...is exclusive access to your cunt. Isn't that fair? Woodward and Berenstein had their Deep Throat...and I'll be your Deep Dick."

Lois Lane was beyond answering. Her heart was shuddering like it was going to explode, and her brain felt two sizes too big for her skull. Yet sheer euphoria was singing along her limbs, and her pussy was clamping down on the cock that had been waiting so long to tear up this tight cunt, pounding away so hard Lois knew she would have bruises the next morning, but she didn't care, she didn't care it was so good, so good, and...

Her night out ended in a ****-induced stupor, the tireless dickgirl humping her body, every sense sharper than before, the cum bursting out deep inside of her in wave after wave...and a part of Lois Lane knew there was no going back.