End: Pulling Them Apart Ultimately Brings Them Together

It was the longest few minutes of Lois Lane and Lana Lang's lives. Superman pressed his hands against their lower stomachs, just about the conjoined genitals...and with gentle but incredible pressure, he slowly began to **** them apart.

The constant wiggling of the women's hips did not help. Neither of them could stop it. Even as her great crimson cock was slowly pulled from Lana Lang's demonic pussy, the reporter kept shifting and pushing, trying to fuck that azure cunny that gripped her harder and harder as the full length of the demonic dong was **** out of it.

The absolute worst part, of course, was that Jimmy Olsen kept taking pictures. The redhead had his camera to his eye, snapping away as hands that could move continents gently but firmly separated the two women.

"James Olsen, I'm going to stick that camera where the sun doesn't shine!" Lois growled.

"Gee, Miss Lane, I just thought it might be helpful for...you know...the doctor or whatever who had to deal with your...condition..."

The cock finally popped free with a wet schluck. A purplish goo erupted from Lana Lang's pussy, and Lois didn't know if that was sperm or their conjoined sexual fluids or what. Even now, Superman held them at arm's length...for the reporter's tumescent prick continually pointed at Lana Lang's Satanic slit.

"We should get you to the doctor," Superman said finally.

So they did, Jimmy Olsen dialing a number that Superman gave him. The next few hours were a blur. Lois Lane would have trouble remembering those events...there was the golden-helmeted Doctor Fate, who took them through a scintillant portal to his ancient tower. The ancient incantations that rang sonorously from beneath his helmet, the bright light of his amulet that washed over them. Lois remembered being on a table next to Lana, the two women holding hands, Superman firmly pinning them to the table as...

Lois shuddered. The crimson flesh had retreated, until all that was left was that demonic dick...and then it was like some fat-cocked crimson demon had stepped out of her crotch...and a blue succubus from Lana's...and there had been a battle...

Lana Lang woke up the next morning naked and sticky, in an unfamiliar bedroom. Her head pounded, and there was a rancid taste in her mouth that was all that was left of the empty bottle of whiskey against her hip. She couldn't feel her left arm, and when she turned to see why...

....Lois Lane was there, naked and with her head on Lana's shoulder. She snored softly, mouth open, lips quivering. Lana swallowed hard, not sure what to say or do in this situation...

...and then she heard a familiar voice humming from the shower.

Clark Kent's voice.

Gently, Lana lifted herself up as far as she dared without waking Lois. The bed clothes were mussed, clothes were scattered about, and broken condoms. There was a distinct wetness between Lana's legs, and she delicately probed between her sore netherlips...and came up with a glob of semen.

Then she saw the pile of instant film photos at the base of the bed.

Jimmy Olsen had caught, not the whole of the night, but at least the end of it. Dry-mouthed, Lana Lang laid back and wondered what the hell had possessed her last night.

Then Lois Lane, exhausted from her night out and with a pussy full of the same sperm as her lover, through an arm around Lana's breasts and snuggled closer...and Clark Kent emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his great shoulders, with a smile bright as a new-minted penny, his cock hanging down those tree-trunk thighs...and Lana Lane figured that maybe Lois Lane's night out hadn't been so bad for them after all.