Lois Doesn't Mind If Ivy Continues To Play With Her Breasts

So deliciously naughty.

Those were Lois Lane's thoughts as she ground her ass against the woman fondling her breasts. Her hands in the air like reporter didn't care as they groved together to the thumping electronic beat. The warm hands groping and squeezing Lois Lane's small breasts, which now felt so hot and sensitive...Lois couldn't remember the last time she had done this. Danced liked this. Played around in public, where people could see her. College seemed so long ago, the carefree days long vanished beneath her work...it felt so good to just cut loose for a moment, to indulge herself.

The woman behind her seemed to agree. Her fingertips tugged and pinched at Lois Lane's nipples, her manipulations hidden by the reporter's shirt. Hot lips found the reporter's neck and pressed against the flesh, sucking hard. Lois almost laughed, thinking how she would look on Monday at the Daily Planet with a hickey, but instead her moaned...because the heat between her legs seemed to increase by an order of magnitude, her knees trembling a little.

Great Caesar's ghost, I'm about to cum and all she's done is play with my breasts!

A deep ache seemed to fill each small breast now, as the woman squeezed them, harder than Lois was used to...yet somehow it felt so good. As the hands moved toward the base of her small breasts, Lois could feel the white cotton press against her stiff nipples, and it felt so rough that something leaked out of her pussy, a wet dribble that began to slip down her leg as though she peed herself.

They danced like that in a while, as the song played out...one of those long, fast, electronica pieces that faded, one song into another, the flashing lights dizzying in the darkness, the animal heat of bodies pressed close upon them, yet none of them knocked into Lois and her unseen dance partner...to Lois, it seemed like they moved in their own space and time, those hands making love to her breasts with single-minded focus, and her breasts felt hotter and hotter, her body shaking even as she felt little twinges from deep inside her small handfuls of tit whenever they were pulled too hard.

Little did the reporter know that this whole scene was a part of Poison Ivy's plan. That it was her minions who surrounded them, so that she could work undisturbed, massaging the tits so that the little seeds she planted would sink down the reporter's milk glands...where they would begin the next stage in their lifecycle.