Epilogue: Lois Lane Needs Dick To Get Through The Day

Morning came, deep inside Lois Lane.

The reporter's bleary eyes opened to find Blaze had lifted her ass up off the bed, the better to fill her cunt...

...and once was never enough, for either of them.

Lois Lane's legs wrapped around the demon's back, her hands grasped the sheets as Blaze, still hard, leaned over. Lois could feel the dick his deep, and Blaze's mouth found the reporter's nipples. She sucked so hard that Lois knew she would have a hickie on her tit...again.

The sun had not risen over Metropolis yet, but Lois Lane had work...so they made love early in the morning. Lois bucked and heaved, as she had done every morning for the last month. Moaned and gasped. Squirmed and arched her back. Clamped her pussy and drummed her heels against Blaze's ass. Day after day, week after week, and this was how Lois Lane dealt with her addiction...her need...

"Angie..." she gasped. "Please!"

The demon grabbed the headboard and thrust hard. Lois grunted in familiar pain as the cock tried to squeeze ever more of itself into her overstuffed cunt...and then the balls clutched and throbbed, and black seed exploded in her depths, painting her cervix with the demon's corrupting cum...

...and Lois Lane sighed in contentment as she let her body relax.

Hopefully, that would be enough to get her through the day.

In the bathroom, later, Lois carefully fed the tampon into her sperm-slick slit. She told herself it was a way to keep as much of Angie's jizz inside of her, to hold off the inevitable cravings that would hit. The first week or two after her night out, the reporter had seriously suffered in trying to break her addiction...had tried to deny what she had become. Now, she had gone through all the stages of anger and bargaining, and come to accept that this was her life now. Just another woman...who needed dick to get through the day.

The sex left her energized, more than a cup of coffee. The sex burned calories, helped to keep her fit and healthy. The sex kept Blaze from going off and doing evil. Oh, Lois had any number of reasons for why she kept fucking Blaze, why she had long ago gotten used to letting the demon use her as she slept, and for all the other little quirks and oddities of their relationship...

...because Lois Lane knew that at any time she wanted, Blaze could turn off the tap. If she stopped fucking Lois, if she stopped cumming inside of her mouth or pussy or even her ass, then the reporter knew she would go through withdrawal again...and probably wouldn't survive.

Worse, Blaze knew it too.

So while Lois Lane was all smiles at the office, while she researched her stories and turned in her copy, bantered with Clark Kent and shared secret smiles with Superman, she knew that she lived a secret life as Blaze's personal cumbucket...and she lived with the knowledge that whatever power there was in the relationship, lay with Blaze.

It was getting on toward lunch when Blaze texted her.

Men's restroom, 13th floor, 3rd stall. Left you a snack.

Lois blanched, but she stood up from her desk. She took the stairs, not the elevator. The men's room was near the stairs, and she spent half a heartbeat to stare down the corridor, wondering if anyone was inside...and then ducking in.

There were five stalls. Four were occupied. Lois swallowed and slipped off her shoes. On stocking-feet, she slipped into the unoccupied third stall in the middle. There, perched on the back of the toilet seat, was a clear plastic cup. Full of sperm.

A normal human ejaculation was about a tablespoon. Blaze's loads seemed bigger. But this was...at least two cups. Over thirty ejaculations. Porn stars at blowbangs swallowed less sperm...and it was all Angie's. Lois could tell, because it was charcoal back. It smelled strongly, of jock straps and over-ripe cheese. Lois Lane sat on the toilet, her shoes in her lap, and tilted her head back.

She didn't even swallow, really. Just let the jizz ooze down her throat. It was still warm...not hot, nto fresh from the source, ut warmer than room temperature, and that pleasant heat spread out throughout her chest as the salty, bitter, savory treat poured down into her stomach. Lunch was forgotten. The reporter quivered as the sticky flow slowed. Her tongue ran around the inside rim, and just when she brought her fingers to bear to dredge out the last stringy remnants, she heard the clatter as someone tried the door of her stall and found it locked.

Men came and went. Lois had to wait carefully, listening intently to figure out when the coast was clear...and then she rushed out of the bathroom, the cup dropped in the waste bin on the way out, still tasting Angie's sperm as she hurried into the hallway. There was someone there, someone who saw her, but three steps more brought Lois to the stairwell and she was rushing up them two at a time in her stocking feet...

On her own floor, panting, stomach churning after the sudden exercise, heart hammering in her chest, Blaze texted her again.

Sweetmeat. For your next task, I'm going to ask a question. If you know the answer, you'll get a reward.

Lois Lane grit her teeth.

You've been using a lot of tampons lately. When was your last period?

The reporter's mouth opened as she did the math...and her heart sank as she realized that it was before her night out. Her hands shook as she typed in the answer.

That long? My, my. Well, what reward would you like for your honest answer?

Feverishly, Lois Lane typed in the only thing she wanted...needed...

Lois Lane put the phone down after her text sent. She hung her head and buried it in her hands. Six weeks since her last period. She had let Angie cum in her every day. Multiple times a day. The reporter had known this would happen at some point, but she hadn't wanted to think about it, hadn't wanted to acknowledge the possibility...

...but it was too late now.

The phone buzzed as Blaze texted her.

Take the day off. You can ride my dick as much as you'd like. To celebrate.

Lois Lane didn't know if it was a suggestion or an order...but it didn't matter. She composed an email to her boss, claiming she didn't feel well...and in truth, her stomach was roiling, but Lois didn't want to puke. She might lose some of that precious sperm...and the jizz that Angie had given her to drink...

...and Lois Lane set off home like an addict about to see their dealer.