End: Lois Lane Gets Fucked By Her "Father"—While Her Mother Helps

There was a bedroom. A four-poster bed with red silk sheets. Wooden furniture so old that it was nearly black. There was a private bathroom, a small marble-topped bar, and over the bed a print of Saturn eating his son. Lois Lane frowned at the latter.

"That's not exactly sexy," she said.

Angelica Blaze, in the form of Sam Lane, closed the door behind him. With a twitch of his mustache, black sparks coruscated over the painting.

"Lot and his daughters," Ella Lane said. "Oddly appropriate."

"Now...naked and on the bed," the demonic doppelganger ordered. "Both of you."

The voice was perfect. Just like Lois Lane's father, that tone and pitch that demanded instant obedience. Lois had grown up hearing that voice. She shuddered as she peeled off her pants. Even with the booze, it just felt so weird to be stripping down in front of her parents...even if one of them was dead, and the other was just a demon in her father's form...

...and then her mother grabbed her hands and helped Lois onto the tall bed.

"Just lay down, with your head in my lap...just like you used to do," Ella said, "And spread your legs for your father."

A lump formed in Lois Lane's throat. She stared up past the older woman's breasts...pale, veiny, the dark nipples stiff...and then looked down the length of her body as the bed creaked. Her "father" crawled onto the bed, a solid, hairy muscle of a man...and his cock, erect now, was even bigger than in her memory.

Ella Lane's hands came down to the reporter's shoulders, and massaged them gently.

"Just relax, Lois," she said. "Your body knows what to do. Just lay back and enjoy it."

Lois's skin crawled as "Sam Lane" laid his hands on her thighs. She felt her heart thunder against her breastbone, and her breath came in short gasps as his graying head lowered between her thighs. It took everything in her power not to scream as she felt that bristly mustache against her clit...and then the broad, strong tongue lapped at her cunny, and Lois had to turn her head away, not able to watch.

Her mother's hands slipped down, over her chest. Lois gasped as the cold fingertips grasped at her breasts.

"That's it dear...let mommy make you feel good. It helps to conceive..."

It took all of Lois Lane's willpower not to bolt from the bed. She wished right now oblivion. That she could kill a bottle of tequila and forget this entire evening. That her traitorous body would stop feeling so damn good as her father's tongue gouged out her cunt-tunnel, then his lips fastened on her clit and sucked softly, so that Lois Lane's hips gasped uncontrollably.

"He's good at that, isn't he?" Ella Lane whispered. "I trained him, you know. Long hours of licking my cunny. I wonder if we taste the same...or if your spots are the same as mine..."

"Oh God, mother, shut up!" Lois moaned...and the older woman chuckled, and pulled at the reporter's nipples.

"I can't wait to see these fill up with milk," Ella said softly. "You know when I was pregnant with your sister, I went up four cup sizes. They were so sore and heavy...and you got so jealous when she got to suck on them, and you didn't."

"Mom!" Lois shouted, her voice nearly hysterical...and then with a final slurp, the tongue left Lois Lane's pussy.

Her father's cock took its place.

Lois opened her eyes to see the grizzled figure rub his cock up and down her dripping cunt-lips. He smiled at her, drops of pussy-dew in his mustache. That big, toothy grin he got when he sensed victory was near. Then he pressed it against her slit...and he watched her face as he pushed it in.

In her sexual life, Lois had enjoyed a modest variety of cocks. Some of her better lovers had been on the larger size. Not that she was a size queen by any stretch of the imagination; her choice in toys remained well within the realm of human possibility. Yet she could tell as the head of his cock found her tunnel, that her father's dick was girthier than anything she had ever taken...and as he leaned forward, his weight pressing down, Lois felt that strange and terrible sensation of her cunt-walls being stretched wider than they ever had been before.

"Tight, baby girl," he said, as he loomed over her. His big hands slid under her ass and lifted her up with ease, so he could press himself deeper. Until his grey hairy sack tickled her ass...and Lois gripped the sheets with both hands, her whole body tense.

"Relax, dear. Just relax," Ella said, shifting her grip to cup her daughter's breasts. "Take your hand and play with yourself. I want to see you cum while riding your father's cock."

It was an erotic nightmare...but Lois **** her left hand to unclench the sheets. Stiffly, mechanically, her arm moved down to where Sam Lane's cock threatened to split her in two. Found her little love-button there and began to rub it in slow circles with the pads of her fingers.

He began to move. Slowly, just flexing his abs at first. The cock moving inside of her. Then his hips began to shift a little, so he could move more. The tiny bit of travel let his glans scrape against her insides, searching for her g-spot. Ella Lane's hands were moving in tandem with his thrusts, and unconsciously their daughter's fingers fell into step, all three of them moving as one unit, like marchers on a parade field.

"Lift your legs, darling," Ella said, excitement in her voice. "Rest them on daddy's shoulders. He needs to get deeper. To dump all those baby-makers deep inside of you."

Lois wanted to cry. To scream. Instead, she raised her legs to rest on her father's hairy shoulders...and crossed her ankles behind his head. Holding her by the waist now, the demonic doppelganger began to thrust harder and faster...and Lois Lane cried out as the excitement and apprehension rose inside of her. She could feel her pussy leaking out over her asshole. Belly tightening. Smell her mother's damp pussy as the **** of her father's thrusts pushed the reporter's head against Ella Lane's crotch...and then when she could hold it no more her back arched and Lois screamed.

She wasn't sure when exactly he came in her. Only that when he pulled out, Ella Lane was already stuffing a pillow under the reporter's ass to keep the side inside. The older woman...or the ghost of her, for Lois saw through dazed eyes the her mother's figure had grown translucent...laid a hand on her flat belly.

"Thank you, Lois. I can go to my rest easier, knowing I have a grandchild, that all my debts are paid."

"Indeed," Angelica Blaze said. Lois saw, with some relief, that the demon had shed her father's form in exchange for a skimpy orange costume with long swaying skirt that revealed both legs, and barely covered each breast. "I shall enjoy seeing our child, Lois...but I imagine you are too tired now to talk about the details."

A black card flickered into the demon's hand, and she laid it on the pillow next to the fresh-fucked woman.

"Call me."

They left her there...and Lois Lane stared up at the painting, which stared down at her. Lot and his daughters. A terrible, incestuous sin, all to have babies. Bile rose in her throat as the reporter thought about what she had done on her night out...and the consequences that would unspool from tonight's events, to upset the course of her life.

Yet that is another story.