Epilogue: Lois Lane Wakes Up To Someone Eating Her Out

Morning slipped over Metropolis, surly and sweltering. The streets were muggy, choked with fog, and the glaring red eye of the summer sun rose desultory, promising a hot, wet, rank day when the pavement would be hot enough to cook on. Pigeons would drop dead from the sky, and the streets would seethe as traffic snarled the streets, hot rivers of metal shining, each car an oven, brains boiling...

Lois Lane woke with a dull, aching throb right behind her eyes, in her own bed, in her own apartment. The sun had risen past the building next door, the bastard star shining its light right through her window. Parts of the reporter ached...she wasn't in her twenties anymore, and she always felt the pains from a night out the morning after. Her mouth tasted like something had died in it, a terrible taste of clammy saliva and something like overripe cheese, heavy with ammonia, as though she had been sucking on a jockstrap. Worse, the cat was between her legs, the fur brushing at her thighs, licking at her pussy...

Wait a minute, I don't have a cat, The reporter's eyes bolted open. She stared down between her legs.

The reporter raised herself to her elbows, and immediately regretted it. Her skull felt two sizes too small. There was a naked woman between her legs. Dark black hair sprawling down her back to a nice ass. Olive skin. A tongue that was running eagerly from the crack of her ass to her clit and back again, smoothly and calmly and over and over. A name floated to the front of Lois's beleaguered brain.

"Angelica," she closed her eyes tight to block out the sun. "Blaze."

Memories came back. The night at the bar. Drinking. Fucking. The demon. Confessions. Cum...

She opened her eyes.

"You came in me," narrowed her eyes against the light. The dickgirl...it was a dickgirl, even if Lois couldn't see the penis at the moment... "You were trying to get me pregnant."

Blaze paused. A long pink tongue hung out of her mouth, the tip of it resting against the reporter's clit.

"Yugh," Angelica managed.

Lois furrowed her brow. She felt...excited. Her nipples were hard. Pussy wet. Body hot, itchy. Thighs twitching. The reporter needed a shower, coffee, the toilet, maybe a hair of the dog...and before and above all that, she needed an orgasm, at least a small one, just enough to curl her toes. She wondered how long Blaze had been licking her pussy.

The demon reached forward with her hands, small fingers spreading the reporter's labia. With little nods of her head, she drove her tongue deep inside of Lois and began swirling it around. The reporter's face burned, flushing, sexually excited. The creep in blood pressure as her heart began to pound wasn't helping her hangover.

"Urrrgh," Lois squeezed her eyes tight again. She reached forward and grabbed the demonic dickgirl's head. "Just fucking finish me off. Quickly."

With terrible enthusiasm, Blaze's tongue buzzed inside the reporter's cunny like a meat blender. Old jizz and gummy vaginal secretions were whipped into a grey-white froth, and Lois Lane's whole body began to shake. More intense than the most powerful vibrator she'd ever experienced, and the reporter's brain felt like it was bouncing inside her skull as she hung on for dear life...and even that wasn't enough.

Her thighs clamped on either side of Blaze's head, and Lois flipped over in a stomach-sickening lurch that nearly brought last night's dinner up on the bed. The reporter was on top now, Blaze beneath her, and Lois began to move like a madwoman, grinding her cunny against that face and rapid-fire tongue, humping away as the terrible excitement inside of her built and built and built and...

Lois screamed, a deep and primal cat-like yowl as her whole body shook and shivered and warm cunt juice squirted over the face of the demonic dickgirl beneath her. Angelica Blaze lapped it up like it was ambrosia, and Lois moaned as the climax quickly faded, and the throbbing in her head returned, now more intense than before.

"What...what the fuck is that about?" Lois asked.

Blaze smacked her lips. "Girlfriends eat pussy."

Lois blinked. "...I need coffee."

Blaze grinned. "Girlfriends make coffee too."

Lois groaned. She slid off the dickgirl, strangely but keenly aware of the hard rod between Blaze's legs, but studiously ignoring it. Staggered toward the bathroom, rivulets of pussy-juice dribbling down her legs. Her pussy throbbed, the vigorous cunt-licking reawakening all the aches and pains of last night's tremendous fuck-session.

The reporter sat on the toilet and rested her elbows on her knees, head in her hands. Letting the pain wash over her. There were noises from the kitchen.

Girlfriends? Lois drew her fingers down, letting them pry her eyelids open. Well, if her coffee is as good as her cunnilingus...