Lois Tries To Escape

"Oh fuck off," the reporter murmured under her breath. She looked around the toilet stall. Like most bathroom stalls, the dividers left a gap of about a foot between the bottom and the floor, and two feet between the top and the ceiling. If she couldn't go through the door, she could still go under or over.

"Hey, hotlips," a voice came from the other side of the wall. The dick waggled in its hole. "Get to suckin'!"

Lois Lane's eyes narrowed. A sudden image appeared in her mind, of dropping down on him from above and breaking his cock off. Thought became action, and in a second the reporter was standing on the toilet seat, her head level with the top of the stall divider. She grabbed the top with both hands, pulled...

...vertigo, sudden and intense, gripped the reporter. Dizzily, her feet slipped from the toilet, and she instinctively tightened her grip. It felt for a moment like she was clutching the edge of a cliff, the floor of the bathroom stall a thousand feet below. Her hands became paralyzed into a white-knuckle grip as her body slammed into the divider.

She couldn't remember how her tight red pants and panties had fallen down to her ankles. Yet Lois Lane felt the warm heat of an alien body slide between the top of her thighs, rub against her exposed pussy...but she looked down, dizzily, and saw the condom-wrapped prick press into that tight, hot little gap.

"Pussy job? Okay slut, whatever floats your boat."

Lois Lane couldn't move. Could only hang there, arms beginning to ache, hands locked in place, as her customer slid back and forth between her thighs, her cunny drooling on his dick, the heat and the friction building up. The reporter bit her lip, cheeks burning, unable to let go and unwilling to let this bastard know he was stimulating her as he used her body to get off...