Lois Is In Control

Taking a deep breath, Lois tucked her fingers into the waistband and wiggled out of her pants. Around her, people kept drinking, talking, laughing. No one was watching. Angelica Blaze sat there in her black dress, thighs spread to give her balls room, stroking her shaft very slowly and carefully.

I'm in control, Lois told herself as she turned around, panties still on, and carefully lowered her ass into the dickgirl's lap. The fat cock slid in between her thighs, the thin black lace of her panties keeping it out of her pussy, the swollen, leaking hed pressed against her lower abdomen. The reporter could actually feel the heat of the cock against her skin and lips. It felt good...but Lois knew she could resist it.

This is enough. Just tease her, get some information. Get her talking.

"You were telling me about the other women that work here," Lois said.

A topless waitress arrived, with a shot glass of sticky grey goo and a tall dark glass with a distinctive foamy head, bubbles beading downwards inside of it.

"Guiness?" Lois asked, surprised. It had been quite a while since she'd had the famous Irish beer.

"Just something to wet your throat as we talk," Angelica said, hands reaching forward to stroke the reporter's thighs. "Yes, we get women here...this place calls to lost souls, those women who know what they want but cannot have it. Some of them come looking for answers or favors...and others are simply rudderless, as though waiting to be reborn..."

Lois stretched out to grab the shot glass...then hesitated and reached for the dark beer instead. Raised it to her lips to drink through the foam, feeling the thick, bitter liquid slide down her throat, cutting through the salty residue of Blaze's last load. It was, she was surprised to find, exactly what she needed.

Better still, Angelica was still talking.

So the reporter drank, the cock throbbing between her thighs, asking occasional questions. Apparently the four missing women had come here, along with a number of homeless women and a couple of other women who hadn't been reported missing yet. Blaze healed their addictions and afflictions, gave them advice, promised to help them with their problems...in exchange for service. Hence the topless titties on everyone.

The whole time, that cock was there, omnipresent, rubbing against her clit, precum drooling into the waistband of her panties. The itch inside was growing, and so was the reporter's thirst.

Angelica's hands were moving too, having rubbed themselves slowly up the reporter's thighs, they were now massaging her hips, fingers tantalizingly close to Lois Lane's crotch. So slow and gradual that Lois had hardly observed the march in progress...but she could feel the hands here now, resting on top of the waistband of her panties, and she told herself it was fine, she was still in control as long as it was above the clothes.

Halfway through the Guinness, Lois set it down and picked up the shot glass. Nearly bashed her head into the dickgirl's nose tossing it back, but she didn't really care. The slimy, salty goo slid down her throat, a little more solid than the beer, and then she was finishing off the Guinness and the waitress was bringing her another...and another shot of "Blaze juice."

"What I don't get," Lois said, trying to resist the urge to rub her thighs together. "Is what's in it for you? What do you get out of all this?"

"Well, if nothing else," Angelica said, planting a little kiss on the reporter's bare shoulder. "It's brought you to me."

Lois blinked and saw that the second glass of Guinness was empty. That was fast. She couldn't really remember drinking it, but there was the topless waitress was tugging it out of her hand, placing another in it. The back of her throat was sticky and she realized that she must have taken the second shot too.

How much have I had to drink? Lois thought, trying to count everything that had gone into her this evening.