Let Blaze Pull Out And Cum On Her Tits

Lois Lane's breasts were not her best feature. Puberty had left her with enough to fill a B-cup bra, but not much else. Perky, with that delicate half-teardrop shape that suited her slim build. Over the years, Lois had learned to use her modest bust to its best effect.

Now it was time again.

The reporter grabbed her breasts and pressed them together. There wasn't enough tit-flesh to make a tunnel, not enough soft pink flesh for the dickgirl to fuck. Yet Lois Lane stared hard into her lover's eyes and said in a voice that brooked immediate command:

"Cum on my tits!"

She didn't have to tell Angelica Blaze twice.

With a scream of primal lust, the dickgirl tore her cock free from the reporter's cunt. The veins stood out, wet and angry, on the blood-swollen organ. The dickgirl grabbed her prick with both hands as she stroked off, the purple head ready to explode. The reporter stared into the one-eyed serpent with the fervid fixation of terrible excitement.

The first hot rope burst from the prick with the **** of a gunshot. Drops splashed against the reporter's chin. A hot liquid line pooled in the hollow of her throat. Yet Blaze continued to pump and grunt, her hips creaking as rope after rope flung out onto the air and landed in a sticky rain on the reporter's proffered breasts. The tiny pink nipples, stiff as diamonds, were lost beneath a stinky glaze of seed.

Only one thing was off about the scene—the cum was black. Inky black, like raw petroleum. Angelica Blaze painted Lois Lane's tits with an inhuman load of jet-black pearls—and the reporter grinned and rubbed the sticky jizz into her tits.

"Now," Lois huffed, as the last little drop oozed out of the dickgirl's prick, "make me cum."