End: Lois Wants Blaze To Eat Her Out Until She Falls Asleep

"Now..." Lois Lane sagged against the nursery wall and slid down to sit on a mattress. She hung her arms on her legs, elbows balanced on her knees. "Now I don't know what. I can still feel your cum in me. I might actually be pregnant. That's...I have no idea how to come to terms with that. It doesn't even feel real yet. I mean that's going to completely upset my life...my career...I'll need to tell Superman...my sister...my father..."

Blaze settled herself on the floor in front of Lois. There was a moment where the air was hazy in front of Lois, like the way on a hot day the light would bend over a black tarmac...and then the human seeming left her. Lois stared at the demon as if for the first time...for she truly was a demon. The ankles and wrists were too slim, the elbows and knees too bony as if about to erupt into spikes. The limbs were long and leanly muscles like a greyhound's, almost to the point of emaciation; she could pick out the ribs on the slender scarlet torso, and the small breasts were mere handfuls topped with puffy pink nipples like unripe strawberries. The gracile, almost alien head was reminiscent of the bust of Nefertiti, yet topped with dark, masculine horns that jutted out from the forehead and curled back so as to shadow the pure white eyes.

The reporter's gaze fell past well-defined abs and that impossibly slim, waspish waist to the cause of all her trouble...the cock which seemed, in its girth and length, out of proportion to the rest of her, the mighty testes that should have graced some stud-animal at a farm. The demonic dick lay quiescent for a moment, like a slumbering serpent that lay with its hood furled, not yet ready to strike.

"...plus," the reporter reflected, "I now don't even have a story. Can't write an article about four women that ran away from it all to be unbirthed into a pair of sex workers."

Blaze nodded gravely.

"You've had a stressful night. Would you like some oral sex?"

The reporter narrowed her eyes.

"This isn't some means to corrupt me, or a trick to get me to sell my soul, or some sneaky way so that you end up fucking me again just to make sure I get knocked up, is it?"

Blaze smiled. It was that strange, secret smile that graced the Mona Lisa...and then it spread wider, showed white teeth. The shadows around the eyes shifted shape, as if they were laughing too.

"No. It just occurred to me that perhaps you'd like me to eat your cunt. As the mother of my child, the least I could do is see to your sexual needs."

The reporter wanted to protest...but she was tired. Exhausted, really. Lois could feel the physical ache of the late night wear on her. Even her pussy throbbed a little from the sexual activity earlier tonight. With a sigh she lifted her ass and began to slide out of her pants...

After all, Lois reflected, After fucking her, it's not like I'm doing anything weird.

Blaze should have had a tail she could whip back and forth like a cat. Lacking that, the scarlet succubus raised herself up on all four, and waited patiently for Lois, now wearing only her socks and shirt, to lay down on the mattress, her legs parted.

The scarlet shoulders shrugged as Blaze crawled down between Lois Lane's thighs. She planted hot kisses around the reporter's crotch. A hot wind seemed to blow from her mouth, not like a hairdryer, but like Lois fanned her cunt in front of an open oven...and then the tongue slid over the reporter's labia...

Lois Lane had never gotten a "happy ending" at a massage parlor. Yet she felt like perhaps this was what it was like. The feeling of vulnerability, and yet also expectation. She had paid for this heat, this pleasure, these strong lips that massaged her sore pussy, the hot tongue that slathered and explored her depths, which kissed her little clit and silently, softly sucked it.

The reporter closed her tired eyes...and she was not sure when, exactly, she slipped beyond consciousness. Blaze's tongue and jaw were tireless, the white eyes never blink, and the reporter's soft moans turned by degrees into soft snores, and somewhere in her abdomen there was a flutter, a shift, an invisible change that she could not feel in any physical way, yet a strange and terrible certainty grew in Lois Lane's mind to haunt her dreams...

...and Lois Lane knew that her night out was the night she was knocked up with her first child.