Drunken Booty Call

Some of the worst decisions of Lois Lane's life occurred when she was drunk. Rationality went straight out the proverbial window, and the colors of the world seemed brighter, the aches and pains and worries further away. When Lois Lane had a serious buzz on, she felt almost invincible, and the few limiters on her courage vanished.

Which is how the naked reporter found herself on the bed, playing with her ass.

Three spit-slick fingers slipped in easily. Lois moaned and writhed on the bed, her body bent back almost double as she fingered her ass with one hand, and her pussy with the other. The sensation of both holes being penetrated, filled, stretched...in her alcoholic haze it felt like so good, so different from how she normally touched herself. Her hips bucked, her fingers rubbed as she explored, trying to find the right position, the right way of rubbing to get off.

Except it wasn't working. The reporter growled in frustration as she tugged a little too hard on her ass, as a long fingernail clipped her clit. She hissed and shifted position, rolling over onto her knees, ass in the air...and then she opened one eye and spied her smartphone. She knew what she needed.

Fingers stabbed almost blindly at the phone. Her left hand was still at her butt, two fingers sliding in and out, over and over. In her drunken state, it seemed logical to keep it loose. The phone dialed, and when someone muffled a hello, Lois said:

"Heeeey! It's Loish. Loish Lane. Shay, I need you to come over. Like, right now. I'm...yeah, I'm a little drunk, but litshen, I've had a really weird night, and I jusht cleaned out my ash, and I need a cock. Like, right now. Absholutely, gotta have it. Okay, shexshy? Jush...jusht come over an' fuck my butt! Pleeeashe?"

It was rambling, barely coherent, whiny, and pleading. Yet Lois Lane smiled as the voice on the other end said yes and that they would be over right away.

It wasn't until they hung up that Lois Lane's eyes focused on the name and saw who she had just called.