End: Lois Lane Snorts Crushed Bimbo Pills Out of Blaze's Asshole

There was a baggy on the floor, near Blaze's foot. Perhaps it had fallen out of the **** dealer's panties when she had disrobed to have her cunt cleaned by the big-titted bimbo before her. Whatever the case, Blaze had completely forgotten about them as her hips slid forward, until her ass cheeks hung over the edge of the chair...and Lois Lane's bumbling palm came down on the heart-shaped pink pills, ground them against the floor as she ate out the wet slit before her, and reduced them to a rough powder.

"Lilith's tits...let's try another position," Blaze said. The naked **** dealer shifted herself so that her legs stood straight, spread apart, bent over with her arms on the back of the chair, so that her small tits swung free and her twat dripped onto the kneeling reporter's tongue.

"Now...eat me!" Blaze said, and flexed her tight, muscular buttocks for emphasis.

Vaguely, an idea penetrated the pink fog of Lois Lane's mind. As if on automatic pilot, her hand closed on the baggie of crushed bimbo pills. She had to straighten herself, still on her knees, to bring her mouth in line with Blaze's cunny...and above it, separated by a bare centimeter of sweaty skin, the dark star of her asshole.

Baggie still in hand, Lois pried the cheeks apart. The sweaty asshole seemed to wink at her...and as though she watched someone else, the bimbo's big thumbnail tore through the bag, and chalky pink powder spilled out into the crack of Blaze's ass.

"Wait...what is..." Blaze began...but Lois wasn't listening.

The bimbo reporter's nose crushed into the **** dealer's asshole. She inhaled. Rough, raw ****, the strangely spicy stank of Blaze's anus, the salty drops of sweat, all disappeared up the reporter's nostrils. Her tongue delved out, lapped at the pink dust that spilled past as the reporter emptied the bag out...

Many people warn that **** will melt your brain, yet as the extra doses of bimbo **** hit the reporter's already overloaded system, a cascade of irreparable damage scarred her frontal load. The light in her eyes dimmed and her over-swollen tits seemed to groan as they tried to grow more. The reporter shook, body dehydrating as her tits approached the size of watermelons, her hips cracked as the swollen muscles pushed out. The reporter would have squirted, but there was nothing left in the tank, and her swollen, cunt-sucking lips drooped, saliva thick and gummy as she mouthed at the cunt and ass before her, a swollen tongue running from quim to arsehole and back again with all the eagerness of a dog with a jar of peanut butter.

Blaze hung on for dear life...and if anyone could have seen her right then, they might have seen a distant look in her face. Her breasts were a little bigger, her ass a little fuller, lips a bit plumper...because the **** dealer was not immune to her own ****, the crushed pills absorbed through anus and pussy as Lois Lane emptied the baggie on her.

At some point, Blaze fell off the chair. She half-crawled, half-scrambled across the floor, Lois Lane slurping and sucking at her crotch as the **** dealer reached for the phone, to call for help...unable to think of anything else...

The climax caught her as she and Lois lay sprawled on the floor. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the ****-fueled orgasm accelerated the temporary intelligence reduction the pills had caused. Lois drank the hot squirt of pussy-juice that burst into her mouth, and her swollen tongue lapped at the salty sweat of Blaze's trim body...her massive tits rubbed against Blaze as they wrestled on the floor...and despite her superhuman strength, it was Lois that somehow ended up on top, her own cunt pressed against Blaze's mouth, her huge bimbo body enveloping the ****-dealer's.

They would still be locked together some hours later, dangerously dehydrated, when someone finally found them and called for help.