End: Lois Lane Falls Asleep Eating Pussy

Lois Lane dreamt of pussy.

Great red snakes seemed to lift her naked body up, the reporter limp in their coils. A vast crimson cunt encompassed the totality of her vision. Two red fingers the size of tree-trunks spread the vast curtains, and within the folds were an almost radioactive pink. A wet wind, warm and tropical, smelling of salt and musk washed over Lois Lane...and finally she realized that the great crimson hand was bringing her body to that mammoth pussy.

It's a dream. She told herself. It has to be a dream.

Yet she could see it in such detail. All the little folds of the skin, the fine little hairs like silk, the subtle shades of red, darker along the labia. The clitoris the size of a basketball in its hood, staring down at her like a baleful eye. The incredibly bright pink folds, the little divot of the urethra, and the larger passage of the vagina proper, which looked like the size of a large doggy door.

"Deep breath," a gargantuan voice roared, from somewhere far above.

Lois shivered and stiffened her body. Hyperventilated to flood her tissues with oxygen as the hand brought her closer and closer. In between those gigantic figures. Until her head pressed against the entrance to the vaginal canal. She took one last gulp of air before the hand shoved her into the waiting pussy.

Warm wetness engulfed the reporter's head. Soft tissue squeezed down on her from all sides. A wet suction pulled at her head, neck vertebrae popping gently, and then the hand fed her in, shoulders scraping against the walls. Lois Lane's lungs burned, eyes closed as the hand began to move her in and out, in and out. It was like the most obscene amusement ride that Lois could imagine, her breasts pressed against the gigantic pussy's inner walls, the hand wrapped around her legs, arms pinned to her sides.

Eventually, Lois could take it no longer. Her mouth burst open, dead, stale air eruption as bubbles from her mouth, and her mouth flooded with pussy juice...and she knew, just knew, that she was about to drown in pussy...

Sputtering and coughing, Lois Lane sat up in bed, the book thrown off of her face. She coughed hard, trying to expel pussy-juice from her lungs, sucking in sweet air.

Outside, the sun was dawning. Her head hurt, limbs tired, jaw and tongue still sore...but she could still taste that pussy on her lips. Somewhere, an alarm rang, telling her it was time to get ready for the day. Lois ignored it and picked up the book. With an utter display of will, she shoved the book under her pillow, not even wanting to turn back to that page.

"Tonight," she sputtered and coughed. "tonight..."

The reporter shook her head, unable to get the dream out of her mind. It had seemed so real...and a part of her still wanted to go back there, to taste and smell and feel the hot crimson cunt. Lois felt as though a part of her had irrevocably changed during the night.

"I guess I like pussy now," she muttered to herself as she climbed into the shower, and knew that it was true.

How that would change her life, and those around her, was something that Lois Lane could not yet guess. Her night out was over, and it was time to face the day.