End: Lois Lane Uses The Gloryhole

Woman up, Lane, the reporter told herself. You just got gangbanged by a bunch of tentacles, there's a spellbook on your lap, and the ingredient you need is right there on the other side of the wall. Don't pussy out now.

Taking a deep breath, Lois knocked on the wall next to the gloryhole. Peering through it, she could see the cock pause. They heard her. She watched as they wiped the tip of their dick off with a piece of toilet paper, then fed the soft pink tube through the hole, which was big enough that he could slip his shaven nutsack through as well.

Courage, Lois told herself as she picked up the head of the dick with thumb and forefingers, peeling back the foreskin to reveal the soft pink tip. Fortunately, it looked clean. Stroking it gently with two fingers, the reporter leaned down and brought her lips to the head.

The warm noodle was soft in the reporter's mouth, a little bitter to the taste, like holding a piece of overripe cheese on your tongue. She sucked gently as she stroked it into hardness, her free hand clutching the book to her lap, a constant reminder of why she was doing this.

It grew hard, the cock filling out, growing stiffer. Lois shifted her grip, forming an O with thumb and forefinger, shuffling it up and down the shaft, focusing her mouth on the tip. She let her tongue roam and swirl around the head, play with the urethra, careful not to let her teeth come in contact with the sensitive skin.

When it was standing tall and proud...Lois judged it was about average, maybe five or six inches...she began to take it deeper. The geography of the stall was against her there, the reporter couldn't take the whole of the cock in her mouth even if she had wanted to, not without ramming her nose flat into the wall. But she could drop her hand down to gently squeeze and fondle the dangling nuts, feeling the warm eggs in her fingers, tongue stretching out on the underside of the dick, still creating a powerful suction.

There was a soft knock before her anonymous sperm donor came, a warning throb in the cock as it seemed to swell that tiny fraction deeper. Lois drew her lips back to seal around the crest, tongue ready before the slit to receive her reward, sucking hard...and was rewarded with the spreading salty sensation of jizz filling her mouth at least two tablespoon fulls of baby gravy, the flavor intense and almost unpleasantly bitter. They had obviously been saving up that load for a while.

She released the softening prick with a wet schlurp, and it retreated back through the hole. Lois held the seed in her mouth and stood up, pulling her pants up, very carefully not swallowing. With book in hand, she consulted the spell.

Center yourself, and repeat the spell in your mind: Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos.

Lois breathed carefully through her nose, letting the words run through her.

Swish in each of the cardinal directions.

Shifting stiffly on her heels in the stall, rolling the mouthful of cum around until her teeth felt sticky.

Close your eyes and visualize that which you desire.

Lois did, bringing into her mind's eye the face of one of the missing women—Diana Reynolds.

It seemed to hang there in the darkness before her eyes, and as she continued to turn and mentally recite the spell, a warm grew in the jizz inside her mouth. Hotter now than when first it has been ejaculated blood-warm into her cock socket, the cum seemed to move with a mind of its own. As Lois turned east, it went west. As she turned south, it went north...and when she turned north-west it strained as though trying to escape the prison that was her teeth.

Lois opened her eyes. Still reciting the spell, she moved out of the stall, the book held close under her arm in the jacket. The enchanted jizz was like a compass pointing in the right direction, keeping her on track. It dragged her out of the club, through a fire door, and into the alley behind it. She followed the compulsion to a loading bay, where a man in a bright purple suit and cane stood smoking a small, sweet-smelling cigarillo.

The cum didn't taste so bad now. Lois was almost getting used to it. Like letting a piece of jerky sit on your tongue too long, the first flavor overwhelming, but slowly seeming to fill and coat your entire mouth. The pimp came forward.

"Hey chica, you look like you got an eye for the ladies...maybe you want one of my hos to eat your pretty little pussy, eh? Or toss your salad? Carlos' bitches they'll do anything, y'know what I'm sayin'?"

Carlos' next words were lost in a few brief moments of uncharacteristic **** for Lois Lane, that ended with her panting through her nostrils and the pimp on the ground, his cane broken over his head, teeth littering the sidewalk, his testicles driven up somewhere around his kidneys. The reporter took a deep breath.

Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos.

The enchanted jizz drew her toward a doorway in the loading bay.

There was a mattress there, uncovered, unwashed. It reeked of old sex. Four women, young, tired and scared. Holes in their arms, shadows under their eyes. Chains around their waists tied to a steel pipe that ran floor-to-ceiling. Lois approached the first one.

Debbie Reynolds stared at her, untrustworthy. Her left eye was swollen shut, a livid purple, tinged with red. Lois swallowed the jizz, felt it burning all the way down to her stomach.

"My name is Lois Lane," she said, running a tongue over her teeth. "I'm a reporter from the Daily Planet. I've been looking for you. I'm going to call the police and get you out of here."

All four of the women were standing now, coming as close as the chains allowed.

"Before you make that call," she said. "Could you drag Carlos in here?"

Lois' grip tightened on the spellbook.

"Okay." she said.

The reporter waited outside until Carlos' screams had died down before she called the cops. It gave her time to reflect on everything she had seen this evening. Her hand ran down the cover of the book. It had been a strange night out, and though nothing had quite gone the way she had planned it, Lois Lane had achieved everything she set out to do.

The question, of course, was what spell to try tomorrow night.