Look At The Bottle

Out of the shower, toweled off and dry, Lois felt better. Her legs still ached...and her ass and pussy too. She wanted to lay down and let sleep claim her. Put tonight and all of its bad memories behind her.

But Lois Lane was a reporter—not just a woman, not a prostitute—and as her eyes caught sight of the bottle beside the sink, the old investigative reporter instincts flared once more. Curiosity drew the naked reporter over the sink, to stare at the glass bottle.

It looked like the small bottles of wine you got from hotel minibars, good for a glass or two, not enough to get properly shitfaced. Not that the contents looked anything like wine. Lois picked up the bottle and turned it this way and that, looking at the opaque white goo within. Thick like syrup...sticking to the sides of the bottle...

I should send it to a lab, Lois knew. Bright and early tomorrow morning. Have it analyzed. Could be anything...

But it didn't "look" like anything. It looked like one specific thing. The thing that she had washed out of her asshole tonight.

Cum.

Licking her lips, Lois' hands found the bottle top, began twisting.

Just going to take a sniff, she told herself. That's it. I just...just need to know...

The top twisted away in her hands, dry gray fragments falling away as she lifted it from the bottle. There was something written there, on the inner lid. But there was also the bottle itself, the contents exposed to the open air again for the first time in a long time, it's bouquet released from its glass prison...and with one slight flaring of the nostrils, one deep breath, Lois knew it was exactly what she thought it must be.

The reporter swallowed. It was jizz...really jizz...a bottle full of spunk, sitting there on her kitchen counter. She was breathing it in with every breath, heart pulsing a little quicker at the thought...and she wondered right then what to do with it.