Not Like It Should

"Uh," Lois said, unable to manage anything more intelligent as she felt the latex-clad finger penetrate her cervix.

Slowly but insistently, the nurse began to push her finger in and out—never removing it entirely, never pushing it all the way in. The reporter shook, hands on her ankles suddenly clammy as she struggled to process what she was feeling. To put words to the sensation.

It's like she's fucking my uterus. Lois panted softly to herself. It's like...like I always thought anal sex would be like. Not good exactly, but not...terrible? Like, there's the sensation, and I can feel it, and it's so wrong but it doesn't exactly hurt like it should and...

She took a deep breath.

...I kind of like it?

"You're doing great," the black woman said. "Your cervix is being really responsive. I can feel you sucking me in."

A flush crept onto the reporter's face. She closed her eyes and looked away.

"I think we need to stretch you out a little more for the next stage of things, though." The nurse wiggled her massively muscled forearm in the reporter's cavernous cunt. "So hold on."

The reporter swallowed, not sure what the woman meant...until she felt the second gloved hand against her pussy lips.

Late at night, on her laptop, Lois Lane had seen women double-fisted. Women whose pussies gaped far less than hers now did. She had always wondered how that had felt. The camera rarely capture their faces, but Lois had always sort of pictured them in pain...or ecstasy...or some weird combination of the two, one sensation blending into the other.

Now, as the second muscular forearm began to slide inside of her...and even the reporter's monstrous muff began to stretch and spread...Lois Lane knew that she was about to find out.