End: Lois Lane Cums So Hard The Last Lingering Shreds of Her Heterosexuality Are Torn Away

All of her life, Lois Lane had thought of herself as straight. She had crushes on boys. Been fucked by men. Masturbated to straight porn. Come into her own sexuality as a grown woman, confident, comfortable, and able to satisfy her needs, either alone or with a partner. At night, her dreams had been of sunbathing naked on her balcony, and Superman swooping down out of the air, his steel-hard shaft slipping into her pussy like a hand into a glove full of vaseline.

One hour with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had been enough to rock the foundations of Lois Lane's impregnable heterosexuality. Lois had always been able to admire the beauty of women. There had been a few hot-and-heavy moments at university, too; drunken kisses, games, locked in a closet to fumble with clothes and touch girl-flesh. Later, as a cub reporter, all the interviews that Lois Lane had given with lesbians came back to her, the gradual increase in her sum total sexual knowledge. Little moments came into focus now...the night she and a lover had watched lesbian porn to get hot and bothered before they made love. The sex worker Lois had interviewed who had looked at the so poignantly when she said she really liked girls. The straight prostitute that did gay-for-pay and then confessed to feelings for a coworker.

All of this had been going on in the background of Lois Lane's mind. As her willpower slowly eroded, Lois thought that maybe she was bicurious. Or even bisexual. That wasn't uncommon in women. A little lesbian fling with two hot supervillains didn't make Lois gay. She still clung to that treasured dream of Superman and his super-cock.

Then it happened. With Ivy's hand in her twat, with a vine coiled around her clit, with Harley Quinn moaning and goading her on. It was like every emotion that Lois Lane had felt during the night suddenly came into crystalline focus and aligned with what her body was feeling. The muscles at the base of Lois Lane's spine tightened. Pussy clenched. Toes curled. Back arched as an electric wave emanated outwards from where Ivy's fingers touched her g-spot. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract at once, and silver sparks exploded behind her eyes as an animal scream of primal lust fulfilled erupted from her throat.

The last lingering shred of Lois Lane's heterosexuality was swept away like a leaf on a hurricane.

It made sense now. Her inability to commit to a relationship with men. Her dreams of an impossible romance with an alien from another planet. How she had resisted these two sexy sirens all night long, and blamed everything she did and felt on Harley's mind control chemicals instead of facing the simple, unvarnished truth.

Lois Lane was a lesbian.

Ivy's fist moved, and Harley's mouth somehow closed on one of Lois Lane's nipples, to suck at the hard teat. The reporter's body spasmed as electric waves rocked her body. No sooner had her climax crested then Lois could feel the tightness and anticipation in her abdomen begin again. So incredibly aroused, so stimulated, that the aftershocks of one climax triggered another...and another...

It was the first multiple orgasm of Lois Lane's life. A chain of such intense sensations that it overwhelmed her. All she could think about was the pussies she needed to lick. The soft curves of women to caress, suckle, kiss, feel, fuck, fuck fuck!

Until, some indeterminate time later, Poison Ivy pulled her hand from the limp, whimpering figure that lay boneless and gently spasming before her.

"I think you broke her, Pammy," Harley said.

"I think she owes us," Ivy said. "How about it Lois? You hungry for pussy?"

With all of her waning strength, Lois Lane lifted her head. Her violet eyes focused, as if she saw the two naked women for the first time. A tongue traced her dry lips.

"Famished," the reporter said...and the two women grinned and spread their legs.

The night was long, and full of firsts for Lois Lane.

In time, she would reconcile with her new sexual identity. And her efforts would bear fruit. Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, it turned out, had their ears to the ground about all sorts of goings-on. **** deals. Supervillain activity. Missing women. All information that the Daily Planet's greatest reporter could tuck away, as her eager tongue lapped one cunny after another.

Superman was the dream that died for Lois Lane on her night out. The heterosexual fantasy that she put aside. Everything was so clear now. Where her true sexual desires lay. What she should really do with her life.

I'm going to fuck Supergirl, Lois Lane thought, as the sun dawned over Metropolis...and so she would. Yet that is another story.