No One Sees Them Fuck

Lois began to pant, breath coming out hot and heavy past her lips. It was like a fever, her body was on fire, her pussy trembling...and yet, no one seemed to notice. Maria and Aisha made their excuses to hit the dance floor, leaving the reporter alone with Angelica, impaled on the dickgirl's hard cock.

It was as though the eyes of the crowd just slid past them, the gaze never locking on. The reporter leaned back, resting her head on the woman's shoulder, closing her eyes as the warm fingers pulled down the bra, fingers grabbing and pinching at Lois Lane's hard little nipples.

Yet it wasn't enough. Lois wanted more. She needed more. The cock in her pussy was filling her up so good, but it was just sitting there, not stimulating her.

"Please...I...need it..." Lois smacked dry lips. Angelica moved her hand to the table, to wrap around another frosty mug.

"You need to drink," she suggested. "You're burning up."

Then the reporter felt a hand move her hair out of the way, hot lips against her neck, pressing down and sucking gently. With trembling hand she brought the glass up to her lips. Cool and wet, the beer slid down in easy sips. Lois shifted her hips and almost sputtered as the sensation of movement in her pussy shook her to the core.

They can't see us, Lois told herself as she set the empty glass down. The room was spinning slightly, lights so bright in the darkness, like firecrackers. She moved her hips again, this time deliberately. Grinding against Angelica's crotch, feeling the cock press against the sides of her pussy. It wasn't the depth, so much, though Angelica certainly had a decent length, as the girth.

Lois bit her lip to suppress a moan as she began to move her hips in slow circles on Angelica's lap, the cock pressing against the sides of her tunnel, the hands squeezing her tits, the moth leaving a little hickey on the side of her neck. She could see her friends now, on the dance floor, Maria twerking, grinding her booty against Aisha's crotch. Play-acting at sex while Lois was here on the sidelines, actually fucking.

The reporter reached for her drink—but the glass was empty, only a dribble of pale lager and suds. The nearest pitcher, though, was half-full.

How many drinks is that? Lois blinked, eyes feeling hot and feverish. She could feel herself sweating now, heart beating faster. That was good, the sweat would cool her off. Sweat, and maybe a drink...she eyed the pitcher. Its frosty sides wet with condensation. The golden liquid looked crisp and cool. Angelica's lips and tongue were working up, close to the reporter's ear, sending a shiver down her spine. It was getting dangerous, to the point where Lois knew that if she didn't stop now, she wouldn't stop, not until they finished.