End: Lois Lane Is Sated, Sober, and Disgusted With Herself

Like a bubble bursting, the alien heat that had come over Lois Lane vanished. She blinked, suddenly calm, and stared down at the **** Rat beneath her. Raised herself up and saw the white jizz ooze out of her pussy. With realization of what had happened came a wave of horror, remorse, and recrimination.

"Great Caesar's ghost!" Lois Lane said softly. "What have I done?"

Courage was not something that the Daily Planet's greatest reporter lacked. Yet in the face of her actions, as shame and disgust overwhelmed her, Lois Lane could not face Rat conscious and asking what had happened. She pulled up her pants and fled—walked away from the shrine, the mystery she had sought to unravel, and most especially the **** man she had abused.

Lois Lane held her arms and shrunk between her shoulders as her heels clicked on the sidewalk. Instinct guided her home; luck got her there unmolested. In her tight pants, she could feel the gooey proof of her crime leak out of her pussy. Over and over in her mind she ran through the events of the night.

What happened? Lois wondered. What came over me? I don't understand. Why did I...**** him? Was I really that pent-up?

In an alley six blocks from her apartment, the exhausted reporter ducked into an alley. Nausea had built with each step, and finally Lois could taste the bile in her throat and leaned over and opened her mouth as hot spew poured onto the asphalt below.

She felt a little better after throwing up. Well enough to make it back to her apartment ithout incident. To strip out of the clothes that still smelled of the night, of him. To step into a shower and turn on the hot water and just slide down into a corner and put her head between her knees and cry. Her body racked with sobs until she ran out of tears. To stare dully at the white goo that somehow still leaked out of her cunny.

Dully, Lois slid two fingers down to her labia.

To use them to spread he labia apart, a thin trickle of white still visible against the pink. How much had he shot inside of her?

Until she found herself, feet braced against the walls of the shower, squeezing the broad plastic head of the shower attachment into her pussy. Fighting past the discomfort, thighs quaking as the steaming hot water hit the sensitive spots inside her pussy. Teeth clenched and bared as she slowly **** it deeper and deeper, wanting to eliminate every trace of her crime, her terrible night out.

"Out, damn spot!" Lois Lane hissed as shame overwhelmed her...and if she had been thinking clearly, perhaps she would have thought that the spray of water would wash some of the semen deeper into her vaginal canal, so that it washed up against her cervix. Would have thought about a morning-after pill. Would have worried about pregnancy, disease, or what strange influence might have guided her into acting so out-of-character and why.

Yet as the entire head of the shower attachment plunged into her pussy, and Lois Lane bit back a muffled scream, she didn't think of any of that. Her shame overwhelmed her. Would keep her in silence regarding the terrible thing she had done on her night out. Would keep her in denial about the consequences...until it was all too late.