Make Him Carry Her

Lois Lane dropped to her knees, mouth glomming onto the swinging brown cock, hands reaching up to rub it between her palms.

"What are you do—we don't have time for that!" John Henry Irons whispered harshly. He took her shoulders and shook her gently, then moaned as her tongue slid over his cock, lips enveloping one of his testicles, sucking hard as she rubbed his rapidly awakening cock into hardness.

Finally, exasperated, he hauled the naked reporter to her feet. Lois smiled and leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his hips. She pressed her breasts against the black hero's broad, muscular chest as she reached down and guided the cock into her sore pussy. Her moan as it slipped inside her folds was real and heartfelt.

"Okay," she said, hanging onto his neck. "I'm good. Let's go."

John Henry Irons grunted. "This is really neither the time nor the place."

"It's necessary," Lois said, squeezing her pussy and wincing. "Whatever they did to me, I can't think straight unless there's a big black cock inside me. So either you carry me out of here like this, or I'm just going to act like a bimbo slut begging for you to put a baby in me."

At that, Lois felt him get even harder inside of her. She smiled a secret smile, her heart a-flutter.

"Fine," he said, moving to one of the walls. With care, he pressed a sequence of innocuous slots, and then lifted a panel aside, revealing a cramped crawlspace. "But you better hang on, this is going to get tight."

The reporter's arms tightened around his brawny neck. She had never appreciated before how well Steel kept in shape. Other heroes had superhuman metabolisms and powers to help them, but for him, it was all hard work. Arms and shoulders like a blacksmith, tight well-defined abs. Lois Lane cradled her head against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart as the hero moved as swiftly as he could, striving to bring them both to safety...