End: Lois Lane Doesn't Spill A Drop

The reporter's lips sealed on that black pussy. The hot stream was relentless. Acrid. Tart. Like apple cider vinegar, but with that revulsive smell she recognized from dirty restrooms. That was what Lois Lane took into herself. Swallowed eagerly down her throat. Let fill her protesting stomach. As her tongue lapped at that pussy.

Not willing to spill a single drop.

Something gelled inside the reporter, as she knelt in a public parking lot and sucked the piss out of a Black woman she had just met. A determination that she had passed through some threshold tonight. As if she had died and been given a second chance at life. A chance to indulge in those secret urges that she had never dared to act on. To fuck who she wanted to fuck, when she wanted to.

Why worry what other people think about you? The voice in the back of her head seemed to say. The little devil on the reporter's shoulder that urged her on. When else are you going to experience this?

The reporter closed her eyes to savor it. The liquid filth that she took into her body. It made her feel so deliciously dirty. She was a filthy slut.

With the decision made, her mind already began to expand on the possibilities. Missing women...why wasn't she doing a reporter on porn studios? Fetish lifestyles? Go undercover at sex clubs? She had been limiting herself all this time...

"Damn, baby," the Black woman huffed, as Lois Lane's tongue explored her piss hole, the reporter's gut sloshing. "You nasty. You truly, completely fucking filthy. You ever want to party with some really bad bitches..."

"Yeah?" Lois Lane said as she licked her lips. The Black pussy was utterly clean. "I'd like to party, sure."

Which is how it began. Lois Lane's second life.

She smiled. Insolent. Interested. **** held no fears for her now...and in her lair, the demon Blaze smiled as well. All it took was a little push, to set a good soul on the path of corruption. To plant a seed in the soil of hell, and watch it flower...