Finger-Fucking

"There...there's a finger in me," Lana Lang whispered, the blue eyes wide. The redhead's hands gripped Lois Lane's arms tightly, the woman's whole body tense as she pressed her pussy against the gloryhole. "It's moving...fuck."

"Are you squeezing down?" Lois whispered back.

"Yes."

"Good. Now...relax."

"Relax? How the hell am I supposed to—"

The reporter knelt down and sealed her lover's mouth with a kiss. Locked together, Lois almost thought she could feel the thrust of the finger pressing into the tight pink hole in the wall. Pressing deep inside her.

A shudder went through Lana. Lois broke the kiss.

"Tell me," she huffed.

"Two...two fingers," Lana's face was lobster read, and Lois wanted to kiss every freckle on it. "They're moving...inside of me. Fucking...fucking me...Christ, I'm so wet..."

Lois didn't have to be told that. She could almost imagine the line of cunt-juice running down the wall. A part of her wished she could be there to catch it on her tongue as it dripped toward the floor.

"They're...they're taking the fingers out...God, I feel so empty, a few more minutes..." Lana said. The reporter braced herself against the opposite wall, her hands underneath Lana's shirt. She wanted to feel those tits for what she hoped was coming next.