Handjob

Carefully, Lois inched back her chair and slid onto her knees. The ladies talked louder, moving their chairs to cover what was happening under the table. Four women were missing, she reminded herself. Somewhere downstairs was the answer she needed.

She had done worse for a story, though she didn't like to think about that. The Daily Planet's star reporter hadn't earned the title by shying away from risks, or being afraid to go undercover. She had not slept her way to the top, like some bimbo. Had never whored herself out for an interview, though some celebrities had tried.

But there were...degrees. She had been "friendly" with contacts before, when the situation required it. Hugged them a little too close. Pressed her tits in a little hard. It was all a matter of degrees.

She rubbed her hand over the dealer's black jeans. He wasn't hard yet. Lois took out some hand lotion, then unzipped his fly, and fetched out his limp dick. She ran her thumb along the soft, spongy head, still trapped in its foreskin. It smelled like dick. Dick that hadn't been washed or serviced in a long time. Sweaty, salty, and earthy, like he'd been living in the same underwear for days without a shower. Lois held it in her hand, stroking softly. So close she could almost taste it...and she was, in a way. Taste and smell were both particulate. Molecules of his dick-funk, floating in the air, going into her nose and mouth...like the strangely sweet smell of someone that went jogging but hasn't showered yet, so their pits just go stale... Lois palmed a generous dollop of hand lotion, and began to massage it in to the prick.

It had been a long time since Lois had held a penis, seen it close. Before tonight, that is, that scene in the bathroom...she pushed it out of her mind. She'd been on a dry spell, what with work and waiting for Superman to take a hint. Her fingers gently moved up and down the pale dick in front of her, the pale babymaker that grew thicker and harder.

One thing she had loved, in her college years, was to watch them stroke it. To see how they liked it. Most of the young men went too hard, too fast; she was surprised they didn't get friction burns, or peel off bits of skin. Lois knew a little lube made all the difference. You wanted them to feel good, but relaxed, get the hips moving...

Her left hand found his balls and started fondling. Her right kept up a good rhythm, stroke in, stroke back, don't forget the head. Lois started to tug on the balls on the up stroke, and that lifted his ass out of the chair, just a little. The reporter smiled and did it again...and again...it was like training a puppy. Get them humping the air a little, buildup pressure...squeeze a little harder, increase the pace, then...

The dealer's watery seed shot out, onto the floor. She milked him for a few moments, letting his think spunk run over her fingers as the last few drops sputtered out in a milky dribble. Lois left his dick there as she backed out from under the table, trying not to touch the now-sticky floor.