Examine The Bottle

Lois did not dare to end the act until she was safely inside, with the door locked and bolted. Only then did she begin to disrobe. In a hurry she shucked off the jacket, pants and shirt, to stand naked. The base of the bottle poked out of her cunt, her lips gaped wide around it.

Gingerly, she tried to pull it out—and found the bottle wedged tight.

She moved to the bed, and fished the bottle of lube out of the bedside table. A liberal dollop of the softly scented gel on her left hand, and she reached down begin slathering it around her labia. Lois used the slick tip of a single finger to probe and lube a little deeper, and gasped as it **** her wider still. When she had made a complete circuit, she grasped the base of the bottle with her dry right hand and gave a tug.

The bottle slid out of the reporter's sore pussy slowly but surely, Lois gasping as it finally popped free. She had never left anything in her that long before, and her poor puss felt gaping and sensitive—she would have to do some light kegel exercises later, after her cunny had healed a bit. As for tonight...

Lois examined the bottle. It was exactly like a small wine bottle, although with a slightly green tinge; the original label had been removed. She upended it and read the raised letters:

MBC. 1923

The reporter frowned, and booted up her laptop. A few minutes' googling opened up revealed a couple of collector websites—apparently the MBC was the "Metropolis Bottling Company," an illicit supplier of bottles for bootleg liquor during the 1920s and 30s, and operated in the same district where the club was not situated. In which case this vintage item was worth a little bit of money...but it was the contents that Lois was most interested in.

She lifted it up, holding it to the light. It was off-white, thick as milk...but it wasn't cow' milk, Lois knew that. Not as runny, it sloshed about like a jelly. In fact, if she did't know better it looked like... like the taste in Lois' mouth after her customer had finished blowing his load, salty and a little acrid. She could till taste him...and Lois had to admit, while he didn't exactly like the taste of cum, she sometimes felt he had developed a taste for it. Probably courtesy of all the oral sex in college, where he had been so determined to avoid just throwing her pussy at her dates, but they had expected something...and head seemed like a good alternative.

Still, if this was ejaculate...there was too much. A small winebottle would be more jizz than a normal human would produce in a week of normal jacking off. They'd have to save it up...and Lois somehow liked the image of that, some **** worshiper in front of a funnel, stroking himself rapidly, trying to aim their manhood at the hole, all of their devotion focused on that substitute, symbolic vagina...

She placed her thumb on the hard ridges of the metal cap. She need to find out what was inside of it...and there was only one way to do that.