Faster Than A Speeding Bullet!

Lois Lane's apartment included a sliding glass door, leading out to a small balcony. It was rarely warm enough or bright enough to be worth going out onto, but it served as a roost for pigeons, and in the summer she appreciated the light that filled her bedroom.

She didn't hear the glass break. Her eyes were focused on the crimson arm, talons extended, which had gripped her neck and **** her down onto her knees. The great, throbbing crimson cock in front of her, which Blaze was pushing against her face, filled her entire world just then.

Then there was a sudden jerk. Lois fell onto her side, hands landing on a carpet covered with broken glass. She stared up, dumbfounded, and caught the barest blur of a red cape flapping in the moonlight.

The reporter smiled. While she knew he probably wouldn't do it, a part of her hoped Superman threw the demon into the sun.

She surveyed the apartment. The glass door had been completely blown out, most of the glass ending up in the carpet and over the bed. Carefully, Lois got to her feet and tiptoed back into the kitchen. Shoes on, she walked over to the dresser, glass cracking beneath her heels, and grabbed a black bathrobe, wrapping it around her nakedness. The wind from the broken window was making the apartment quite chilly.

Then it was time for cleanup. Lois Lane wasn't sure how long it would take Superman to handle the demonic threat, but she knew that the glass had to be taken care of sometime. Now was as good as ever.

Vacuuming was normally a calming, almost meditative act for the Daily Planet's greatest reporter. She wasn't much of a homebody, so when she did **** herself to clean, it gave her hands something to do but set her mind free to work on other problems.

Now, as she sucked up glass particles from the carpet, it wasn't working.

All she could think about was cum.

The smell of Blaze's cock stayed with her. The taste of that XXX back in the club. The sight of those full testicles, eagerly churning out semen to dump down some lucky bitch's throat. By the time Lois had ceased vacuuming and was carefully removing the glass-covered duvet from her bed, she was panting to an alien heat, stomach gurgling, pussy wet and burning...the addiction coming back to haunt her, driving a nervous energy into her limbs, strange fantasies into her mind.

As she was putting fresh sheets on the bed, Lois heard a pair of footsteps land softly on the balcony. Looked out at that broad, familiar S-shield, the sky-blue eyes open and earnest, the little forelock hanging over his forehead...and then her gaze shifted lower, to his tight red underwear, at the bulge there which she hardly ever permitted herself to think about...but now couldn't stop.

"Lois, are you alright? What happened?"

"Oh Superman," she said, walking over to him on legs suddenly weak. "I need..."