Furrow Both Of Ivy's Fields

Lois Lane had heard the term homosexual panic before. Usually in some dusty professor's psychology lecture, or trotted out as part of Queer Theory. Now, seeing the dark green asshole descending toward her face, she understood it at a sudden and primeval level. This was something more serious than a bisexual moment. A woman could another woman's pussy out and still pretend she was straight, but it was a lot harder to lie to yourself when your tongue was digging into their ass.

As Poison Ivy's green ass settled onto her face, the smell of her verdure eclipsing all else, Lois Lane's panic triggered a reaction she never would have thought of, normally.

Two fingers stabbed upwards into the sticky folds of the villain's lady garden as the reporter's tongue thrust into her mulch pile. The botanical villain paused, surprised at this sudden turn of events.

"Oh!" Lois heard, the sounds distantly muffled as the asscheeks settled more heavily on her face. She could hardly breathe, but her tongue could press against the wrinkly divot of her ass, which tasted kind of bitter but not unpleasantly, like fresh grass or coffee grounds. The little orifice parted easily, letting the reporter's tongue slip inside her warm depths, and Lois began to move her fingers in and out of her tight slit, double-teaming the woman's holes.

"Nobody's done that for me since...since Harley..." Ivy sighed, rocking back and forth. Even numb as the reporter's tongue and jaw were, she could tell that the lesbian riding her face was getting off.

"Dig in deep..." Ivy continued, voice shifting in tone. Lois knew that kind of sound, she made it herself when her lovers hit just the right spot.

Her ass must be her weak point! Lois thought, feeling light-headed. With her free hand, she reached down to rub her own pussy. Then she was lost in the pleasant but consciousness-consuming multi-tasking: eating ass, fingering pussy, rubbing her own clit. Above her Ivy moaned and rocked back and forth, her gasps growing a little shorter and more intense, her butt pressing down harder as Lois tried to cram her tongue as deep as possible into her backside, the fingers in her sticky lady's garden grown numb and stiff, yet her arm could still move, in with her sap running down in streams to drop off the reporter's elbow.

Cum! Lois thought, hand rubbing furiously at her own crotch, hips bucking, trying not to lose the rhythm. Cum for me!

Then she did.