Fucked To Sleep

Steadily, increasingly, exhaustion overcame Lois. Limp hands fell off of the hard cocks she had been pumping. Her jaw, sore and aching, fell slack from the pussy she had been eating out. There was only the steady rhythm of being fucked, the cock—she couldn't even be sure it was the same cock—sliding in and out of her cunt, in and out, in and out...

Hands held the reporter up as her legs, weak and shaky, fell out beneath her. Turned her over and spread her legs wide for better access to her fuckhole. Lois felt hands cradle her head and bring it rest in a meaty lap. Other hands rubbed and pressed at her aching muscles...gripped and pressed her breasts, held and caressed her ass. And always, almost without pause, the burning hardness of a stiff prick in between her pussy lip, the slap slap slap of flesh meeting flesh like the gentle rumble of a locomotive...and Lois wanted to count them. All the cocks she had today. One dick, two dick, three...

She was past fighting it. Her body surrendered itself to all comers, her hole wet and willing for whomever plunged their dick into her well-greased twat. In the last hour, Lois mused, she must have had more cock than during her years at university. Yet she didn't feel like a party favor. It felt almost like...worship. Like a spa day but with constant dicking. Or maybe it was like those dolphins, where the males chase the females until they can't swim any farther, and **** the unresisting dolphin bitch without pause...but there was no fire to the thought, not even resignation. Lois was fucked, and even if she could resist, right now she didn't want to. Everything hurt, and she was so tired...

Flashes of the day came to the reporter as the ultimate lassitude settled in. She turned her head into the warm lap-pillow, thinking of the club...the strange graffiti around the black door...the trap she had fallen into, almost drowning in jism...a whore's ****... The air was cool on her tits, now. No hands groped her. She felt the warm press of bodies on all sides, but they were still, like when a dog or cat curls up next to you, sharing in your warmth. The endless soft pounding rocked her gently and inexorably, like being on board a ship at sea, and Lois knew she should fight it, struggle to stay awake, to open her eyes, to do...something...

Darkness claimed her, warm and intimate as a lover's kiss, and Lois Lane was gently fucked to sleep.