Jorge and Mac Try To Fuck Lois Lane

Uncaring of who was watching, Jorge and Mac pulled their pants down, just enough for their stiff pricks to be exposed.

"Aimee, roll over," Jorge said. "So we can get that pussy."

The young woman rolled over...and Lois Lane, her hands still squeezing Aimee's tight buttocks, let herself be carried so that her back was exposed to Jorge and Mac. With a grin, Jorge moved, reaching for the reporter's pants.

Lois Lane's right leg shot out. There was no cartoonish crunch as her heel stabbed into his protruding prick—but the cock bent back, the front half pointing at the ceiling, the back half pointing straight forward, as though a hinge had suddenly sprouted midway down his prick.

Jorge gave a little scream as he dropped to his knees, unable even to touch his wounded prick. Mac stopped, confused...and then noticed all the attention their altercation had attracted. With a swiftness, he popped his prick back into his pants, grabbed Jorge, and retreated.

At no point did Lois Lane stop making out with Aimee. The two women were hot and heavy, hands exploring underneath their clothes now. Poison Ivy, watching from a distance, frowned. Her **** should have made the reporter unable to resist the advances of her minions...but the sudden **** suggested there was some other element at play.

One that would require closer, hands-on investigation.

A whispered order, and a scantily-clad waitress, with booty shorts and pasties, carefully walked and jiggled over and tapped Lois on the shoulder.

"Ladies, you've been invited to the VIP room," the waitress said. "It's a little more...private."