No, But You Can Help Me In The Shower

Angelica Blaze frowned. "But my clothes will get wet..."

Lois Lane rolled her eyes. She could feel a headache coming on. Or maybe a leaky period. Her gut had that weird unsettled feeling she attributed with sleeping too long on an empty stomach, and her pussy felt swamped with crotch-sweat.

"So strip down," Lois said. Then she met the dickgirl's eyes. "But no funny business! I'm trusting you."

Angelica shot back her Mona Lisa smile. "Of course not!"

Seated on the toilet, naked and too weak to stand, Lois Lane could only watch as her guest skinned down. The boots came off first...then the jeans. The reporter found herself staring at the pert, muscular ass, trying to decide if it looked more like a man's or a woman's...then the shirt came off, and Lois admired the well-muscled back, the broad shoulders and long clean limbs.

Then Blaze turned around.

Her cock was hard. Pointed at the reporter's face. A dollop of pre-cum oozing down the middle of the glans.

"Uppsy-daisy," Angelica said cheerfully as she leaned forward, keeping her cock as far away from Lois as she could. The reporter raised her arms and let the dickgirl's hands slide under her armpits. With impressive strength, Blaze lifted the reporter up so that the reporter's shaky legs barely touched the floor...and then the two of them sidled into the shower.

It was a rainfall shower, one of the few luxuries Lois had allowed herself in the apartment, and as the glass door slid shut and Lois grabbed the bar set into the wall, she was glad of it. A turn of the controls and water burst down on them both, first cold and then swiftly heating up. Lois Lane clutched the bar for dear life and faced away from Blaze, grimacing at the wall. She could either hold herself up or scrub her body, but not both.

"Could you...soap me up?" Lois said.

Standing with her back against the far wall, Angelica found a wash cloth and body soap. Strong hands rubbed the reporter's tired muscles. Her arms and legs...her back...the hand curling around to rub a sudsy cloth across Lois Lane's abdomen. Always keeping their distance from pussy and breasts and ass. Considerate almost to a fault.

Except Lois knew, without even seeing it, that the stiff cock was right there behind her. Barely inches behind her. She knew that if she took even half a step back, that hard prick would poke right into her ass. The reporter swallowed heavily. The hot water made her feel more awake—more together—but she could still feel the funk between her legs, the boob sweat beneath her small, tear-drop shaped breasts.

"Do you, uh, want me to wash your..." Angelica asked.