I Didn't Cum Yet, You Bitch!

Lois Lane hauled herself out from under the bar, irate as a fury. One hand grabbed the bartender's cock and the other stabbed against Blaze's shoulder, forcing the bartender against the rack of liquor bottles.

"We aren't finished!" Lois hissed. The noise of the club had died down, and she could feel the eyes of every woman in there on her. The reporter was too angry and frustrated to care.

Angelica smirked...then her eyes bulged as Lois Lane's hand tightened on her cock.

"You have anything like a bed around here, you miserable prick?" she growled.

The dickgirl nodded.

"Where?"

The bartender raised her right arm, pointing to a door on the other side of the room.

"Good. We're going to go use it. You're going to finish the goddamn job!"

Not loosening her grip in the slightest, Lois tugged hard, Angelica keeping close to avoid being physically dragged along by her cock. The reporter led her out from behind the bar and across the club, not even bothering to conceal herself or Blaze as they strode purposefully toward the door.

The reporter was too furious to be embarrassed, though she knew later she'd probably be mortified. Right now, though, she had only one thing on her mind: getting off.

Her free hand closed on the brass knob, pushed the door open. A bedroom done up in blue, four-poster bed with blue sheets, hanging draperies, plush carpet. A door marked W.C. on the left. Lois dragged the dickgirl in front of her and finally took her hand off the thick cock—just long enough to push the bartender on the bed.

Angelica stared at her, not showing any pain or embarrassment. If anything, her expression seemed to be one of profound respect.

"Now," Lois said, shrugging out of her shirt and jacket. "Fuck me until I cum. At least twice."