Epilogue: Welcome Home

Angelica Blaze moved into Lois Lane's life like a particularly obnoxious cat. The day after their tryst, the reporter had simply opened the door and found her there, in the kitchen, stocking the refrigerator with strange bottled beers and other groceries. The reporter had actually stopped for a minute to admire the curve of the dickgirl's ass in her tight shorts, the obvious bulge of her "package"—and couldn't resist the urge to slide up behind her and run her hand over the rough material of the jeans, feeling the warm heat of those balls.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lois said.

"Putting away the groceries. I'll left you a check for my half of the rent on your laptop."

Lois kept the surprise off her face. This was a test and she knew it.

"I didn't ask you to move in."

Angelica straightened and turned. Once again, Lois was reminded of how much taller Blaze was than her. The top of the dickgirl's breasts were about level with the reporter's chin, forcing Lois to look up...which mean that she could feel, but not see, the hard bulge digging into her stomach.

"Oh, sweetmeat. You didn't need to ask. After all...you're going to need help with the pregnancy, and the baby when it comes."

Lois kept a straight face. "I haven't taken a test yet. If I am pregnant, I might just abort it."

"Hmm. You know what I forgot?" Blaze said as she slipped her arms around the reporter's neck.

"What's that?" Lois could smell her breath now, sour and sweet...

"Welcome home." The dickgirl's kiss was warm and inviting, tongue slipping past the reporter's teeth to meet hers...and stayed there, not too long, not too short. Just enough so that when she broke it and turned away, Lois was left licking her lips, heart thumping in her chest.

Blaze had already moved in. Lois found her clothes in the closet, a second toothbrush in the cup at the sink. Boxers in her underwear drawer. The reporter's jaw worked, trying to decide what to do about her new roommate. Oh, she could get her thrown out, but that would require calling the police...and after they found out that they'd slept together, they'd probably call it a domestic dispute...and Lois Lane didn't need that attention.

The reporter was still trying to think about what to do during dinner. Blaze had made some kind of stir fry, and the beer was some local Metropolis microbrew that Lois didn't recognize but went well with the onions and peppers. Lois told herself it would be rude not to eat it...and then they were just...there. Blaze kept to her own space, watching television on the couch as Lois dabbled at work on her laptop. Her eyes kept going back to her.

Not going to fuck her, Lois told herself. She realized she still had the collar on from last night, having never tried to take it off. In the morning, I'll tell her she to fuck off. Throw all her shit out into the street, get the locks changed...maybe another deadbolt.

Lois was still thinking that when she changed into her pajamas and went to bed.

A part of her thought that Blaze would sleep on the couch.

That part of her was wrong.

A warm body slid in next to her. Mint from the freshly-brushed teeth. Lois felt a hip press against her, like a dog curling up against its owner. Somehow the reporter knew, before Angelica ever said it...

"I hope you don't mind, but I sleep in the nude," the dickgirl purred. "If you ever want to take advantage of the fact..."

"I don't," Lois said, firmly.

It took the reporter a long time to get to sleep. The naked dickgirl was right there beside her. Two bodies under the covers made it warm...warmer than usual. At least that's what Lois told herself as she lay there, under the sheets in her pajamas, every little fold and crevice of her body feeling hotter and sweatier than normal. Especially...one...crevice.

Carefully, feeling like she was a teenager in her father's house again, Lois slid her hand down the front of her pajamas. She wasn't going to fuck Blaze. She was not going to fuck Blaze. But it was her apartment, and she could masturbate whenever she pleased. Lois told herself that this was all some psych-game that Angelica was playing, and she refused to lose.

The finger slipped into her pants. Over the dark little patch of pubic hair, already damp with sweat. Moving down...she remembered how it had been like, in the beginning. She hadn't known how to masturbate, not really. Just thought you stuck a finger in your hole and it was supposed to feel good. It had taken her time—experience—research—to learned about stroking her labia, rubbing the hood of her clit with her thumb, of taking her time and letting herself get a little excited so the juices were flowing, and then...

Blaze turned, under the covers. Her naked dick landed on the reporter's left thigh. Lois Lane froze, not moving an inch. She could feel the heat of the half-hard cock through her pajamas, the dickgirl's breath as Angelica's slow and deep respiration washed over her. Without turning her head, Lois moved her eyes, looking at Angelica in her peripheral vision.

She looked different, asleep. Almost...innocent. There was something of the craftiness and guile gone from that face, the wide forehead untroubled, the hair hanging over her like a wild, dark mane. The lips were no longer turned in that Mona Lisa smile, but were half-parted, almost whistling gently as she exhaled...Lois pegged her for a thumbsucker if there ever was one.

Lois closed her eyes.

Okay. Blaze is asleep. Let's do this. Rub one out real quick, get a few hours sleep, and throw her out in the morning.

The reporter's hand moved inside her pajamas again. Faster this time, but with as little rustling as she could manage. That meant sticking two fingers in her wet slot, and rubbing at her clit with her thumb. A familiar enough maneuver. Lois had done it a hundred times in her dorm room, when her roommate had been sleeping down below, totally oblivious to...

"Whatcha doin'?"

Lois Lane's eyes shot open at Blaze's whisper. The cock against her thigh was no longer half-erect. It was hard, and when Angelica moved her hip, the tip of it brushed the back of the reporter's hand through the pajamas.

"Sweetmeat...you only ever have to ask," the whites of Angelica's dark eyes almost seemed to glow in the darkness.

The evening's frustration hit the tired woman like a wave. With a growl, she rolled over, forcing the dickgirl onto her back, the cock sticking up right at the reporter's crotch...and Lois blushed in the darkness as she realized that these were her old pajama pants, the ones with the hole in the crotch she hadn't mended.

Blaze shifted her hips, and the tip of her erect cock poked right up through the hole, so that the lips just kissed Lois Lane's.

"I did not invite you here," Lois said, trying to hold onto her anger and ignore the tip rubbing against her wet pussy.

"So what are you going to do about it, sweetmeat?"

In answer, Lois Lane spread her legs and drove her crotch down. The fabric ripped as the dick **** the hole wider, before sliding into the reporter's cunny. Blaze never touched her, never **** her. Only laid beneath her, smiling in the darkness, as the reporter half in rage and half in lust rode her cock, not trying to get Blaze off at all, not caring about a condom or anything else...and when Lois finally, after a few frenzied minutes of fucking tensed, her buttocks quivering as her body trembled with release, panting hard in the cold night—Blaze drew her down and held her against her body, the cock throbbing gently as it pumped a sticky load into her cunt.

"We..." Lois panted. "Need to lay some ground rules if you're going to live here."