Epilogue: Quid Pro Quo

Lois Lane woke up like a cat. All at once, but not moving a whisker. Limbs loose, eyes closed, breathing regularly. Alert and aware, yet showing no sign of it.

A warm cheek pressed against her thigh. A long, warm tongue lapped at the slit between her legs. Lois grinned as Angie's lips kissed her clit. The tongue slid inside, just sliding against the inner lips. The reporter allowed herself a lazy grin.

Ever since they had started trying for a baby, Angelica Blaze had become her girlfriend's alarm clock. It was a new phase of their relationship. Lois still didn't wear panties...but she chose what underwear Blaze wore every morning. It always amused Lois to see the dickgirl stuff that big sausage into a tight pink thong, or wear those frilly Japanese panties with the specially-made sleeve for her cock.

Weekends, Lois still wore the maid outfit and a butt plug. Except now Lois slipped the cage on Angie's cock before she left for the day. The dickgirl had swallowed any indignation she had. It was just quid pro quo, after all. Every good relationship still had a bit of give-and-take.

The reporter gave a soft moan and spread her thighs wider. Angie pushed her tongue in deep, her cheeks rasped against the stubble on Lois Lane's pussy. Today was a shaving day, and Lois smiled wider as she thought about the days when she would shave her own pussy, instead of having someone to do that for her.

Slowly, the reporter's breathing quickened. Her hips began to move on their own. Stomach flexing, humping her girlfriend's face as that constant stimulus continued. Lois could feel herself getting closer and closer. The collar around her neck felt suddenly tight and Lois reached up to grab the headboard, wrapping her thighs around Angie's head. If this kept up she was going to be late...

Lois Lane's cry startled the pigeon roosting on her balcony, which exploded into flight. A electric convulsion erupted through the reporter's lower body, spreading outward from her quivering quim...her back arched...and Lois knew there was no better way to start the day than a hard climax.

Angie planted wet kisses up her girlfriend's stomach as the reporter's legs went limp.

"Babe," Lois managed, "I've got to get ready for work. I'll be late..."

"You're already late," Blaze said, voice pitched low and husky...and that was when Lois Lane's eyes opened fully and she turned to stare at her girlfriend.

The dickgirl had been keeping track of the reporter's cycle for months. Bought vitamins and made sure Lois swallowed them. Spent days on the internet researching ovulation, ideal temperatures, strategies for getting pregnant... Lois had been content with just fucking unprotected and letting nature take its course.

Angie crawled forward, kissing Lois Lane's sternum, each breast...and then the tip of her leaking prick rubbed against the reporter's slit.

"You should be bleeding this morning," Blaze said with an exultant grin, the one she only let Lois see. Like the cat that got the cream.

"I'm not a Swiss watch," Lois said, heart suddenly pounding against her breast bone. "It...it could just be I'm a day off."

"Perhaps," Blaze conceded, in between kisses on the reporter's neck. "But I think...not..."

Their lips met. Lois tasted a bit of herself. Felt the swollen cock head press against her well-lubed slit. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around Angie, drawing her in. Their kiss broke as Blaze nuzzled against her cheek.

"No harm in still trying...until we're sure..." Lois gasped as the cock slipped inside of her.

By the door, a cup of hot coffee and a bag lunch waited for Lois. Angie had even tucked a little note in there. Along with a pregnancy test. As her cock pushed in and out of its familiar channel, the demonic dickgirl grinned. Sometimes it was worth waiting a little. To indulge Lois as her girlfriend had indulged her. This kind of intimacy was worth a little quid pro quo...and as Blaze's balls squeezed and sent a high-pressure jet of jizz to power-wash the entrance to Lois Lane's womb, the bucking, heaving, groaning woman beneath her begged for her seed, lapsing into their play-time talk.

"Pump a baby in me, mistress! Oui! Oui!"

Which was just the icing on a very delicious cake.