End: There Are No More Words

He silenced her with a kiss. Tender, yet insistent. They floated over the bed, and Lois Lane clung to him. Clark Kent held her close to him as one-handed they shed what was left of their clothes. Rotating gently in the air, Lois Lane pulled out the bottle and it hit the mattress, fell onto the floor, and rolled beneath.

For just a moment, Lois Lane felt even more empty before. As if the gaping wound between her legs would never be filled. The hole within her being would remain forever sterile and void. Heart aching for the love she had always wanted but never experienced.

Then she felt his cock stab against her labia. He was so inexperienced that Lois had to help guide him in. Her legs wrapped around him as Clark came to rest, parallel with the bed but about a foot off of it, so that Lois could straddle him and lower herself onto his manhood.

It wasn't as though Lois Lane was a size queen. Her better lovers had always been a little more generously endowed than average, but Lois had gotten off with men whose cocks were smaller than average too. All she needed was about as long as her little finger, to scratch the itch inside.

Clark Kent was bigger than that. Much bigger. The tip of his cock was round as a mushroom, and had a pleasant fullness. Yet the shaft thickened and bulged as it went down, until half-way Lois struggled to breathe as it pushed against her inner walls. When Clark's hands found her hips and pulled her down, a little rougher than she expected, the reporter's eyes bulged as she felt that head ram against the back of her pussy. Super-sensitive and sore as her pussy was from holding that bottle, it felt for a moment as if Lois was a virgin all over again.

Slowly, she began to move. Hands on those perfectly sculpted abs. Legs locked underneath him. Cowgirl had always been one of Lois Lane's favorite positions, because she could control the speed, depth, and angle of penetration. Just roll her hips a little to get used to his size, then slowly rise and let herself fall. Find the perfect angle so that swollen cockhead rubbed against all of her right spots.

For a few minutes, the Man of Steel was nothing but her fucktoy, like a cat that had found its new scratching post. It was a testament to how excited Lois Lane was when she heard herself gasping and bucking. Eyes locked on his as that delicious heat built and built, her body already shaking as she approached her limit...and her eyes locked on his as she tumbled over the edge, back arching, small tits pushed out with nipples so hard and swollen in the moonlight, her tight cunt squeezing his steel-hard shaft as her toes curled...

Then he held her hips and began to move.

Her waist was so trim and his hands so big that the thumbs nearly met by her navel. Clark Kent was neither cruel nor rough, but his strength was superhuman. She could only grasp his forearms as he lifted her up and down, using her cunny as if she was just an inflated sex doll, her hungry twat sucking at his cock every time he pulled her up. Lois Lane panted in renewed excitement as she felt, for the first time, that utter loss of control that came from being completely overpowered.

Clark Kent's kind eyes had a glassy look to him. His handsome face was flushed. She could tell he was holding back, and the reporter wished she could tell him not to—she wanted him inside her, wanted his sperm, his seed, his baby—babies—all his babies. She wanted all of his cum, always and forever, her belly forever bulging and heavy with his offspring. If Lois Lane never saw her feet for the rest of her life, she wouldn't care. Just as long as her stomach was swollen and distended with life. Just to give birth again and again and again...

It was the fear **** talking. Mingled with the reporter's own darkest sexual fantasies. Her biological clock made manifest. None of those fantastic images could come to her lips. She gasped and groaned like a whore as he pushed and pulled her faster and faster, and then...

Lois lane had never felt a man cum inside of her. Oh, she had a few mates she had taken bareback, when she knew they were clean and she was on the pill. She had felt them tense, felt the extra wetness as their watery seed ran out of her. Yet it was always like tossing a spoonful of yogurt into a Pringles can. The actual moment of ejaculation, as ecstatic and spiritual as it might be for a man, always left her cold, lonely, wanting more, and with a mess to clean up.

Not this time.

The first burst of sperm from Clark Kent's cock hit the back of the reporter's womb like the sting of birdshot. Brief pain made the reporter jump, but Clark held her cunny firmly latched onto his prick, and her own muscles instinctively clamped to hold the seed inside. The first shot was followed by a second, that also made Lois Lane jump, though she could tell it was weaker.

And a third. A fourth. Every time, she could see his abs flex, muscles that could break continents straining—and Lois realized with a shock that he was holding back, not shooting off full **** inside of her, probably for fear that his super-sperm would tear through the sensitive tissues of her vaginal canal and riddle her body with holes before they blew out the top of her skull.

At last, it ceased. Lois had lost count of how many ropes of super-jizz had shot up inside her pussy, but her cunt was cataleptic, painfully tight about his prick, unwilling to let even a single drop ooze out as the sperm buzzed around her spasming cervix, each one eager for a chance to impregnate one of her eggs.

His grip eased a little, and Lois flopped down onto his chest, her small tits smacking painfully against those massive pecs.

There were no more words. They simply held each other, his thick dick plugging up her pussy.

Until one of them was ready to go again.

Until the fear inside of her had been sweated out.

Until Lois Lane knew, with the utter, irrational certainty that came from stiffly humping a massive erection whose tip could tickle her cervix, that there was no way she could not be pregnant, after a sexual performance like that.

They sank down to the bed around dawn. Lois Lane already asleep. Her pussy still trying to milk him as she clung to him.

It was not the end that Lois Lane had imagined for her night out. It was, in fact, a whole new beginning.