Lois Isn't

A weight seemed to lift from Lois Lane's shoulders. For a moment she forgot about the article she was writing, the missing women. Her rent payment, when to schedule her next dental appointment, when she had called her sister last. She was, in that instant, no longer a reporter for the Daily Planet, no longer a busy career woman, a daughter, a sister, always on the go. Here and now, she was just a woman enjoying herself.

And she hadn't cum yet.

Lois moved. Her hips heaved up, pussy squelching from the load of cum. Angelica opened her mouth to speak, and the woman put one finger to her lover's lips.

"No talking now," she said, pressing her ass back down until it touched thigh, balls pressing against Lois' labia. The woman began to grind. "Mommy's turn to cum. Just lie back...and let me do all the work."

The mouth shut. Blaze leaned back, against the toilet fixture. Still hard, Lois was happy to notice.

So she moved. A slow, squelching grind with that hard prick still inside of her, the warm presence of it moving inside of her, scraping against her insides...but this wasn't about any stupid college frat-boy looking to pump their load into Lois and then roll off. This was a woman out for satisfaction.

Lois liked having her pussy spread open and filled, she liked it more when it was done by a warm, hard cock. Liked to feel it move inside her, grind against certain spots. But that wasn't enough to get her off. She needed more stimulation than that. So her hand drifted down to her clitoris, old reliable friend that she had discovered back in puberty, when bedtime was all clean sheets and hesitant exploration.

Now she slowly humped that cock, jizz squelching out of her pussy with every movement, one hand on her joy buzzer, rubbing it softly, feeling the heat and pleasure build with every moment. Lois could feel the eyes of her audience on her, Angelica Blaze staring forward in rapt fascination as this woman fucked herself on the shemale's own cock, using her to get off—and Lois smiled as she panted, a lightness in her heart, because she could feel the cock stiffen, Blaze getting off at the sight and thought and reality of Lois getting off.

The pace quickened as Lois felt the very edge of her climax, that tingling possibility inside of her, the **** shiver through her muscles. Her ass was slapping against Blaze's thighs now, in a regular clap, and Lois' lungs burned as she sucked in air, letting it out as a series of moans.

How many nights had she frigged herself gently in front of a laptop, killing a bottle of Merlot glass by glass as she imagined being one of those women on the screen, moaning sluts getting fucked and loving it, audible as cats in heat, shaking their fake tits at the camera... and this time Lois did laugh, because she knew those habits were set to change. No more wine, not for forty weeks or so. Maybe she should get into watching pregnant porn, all big bellied whores with saggy, swollen tits...

It was a fantasy that stuck in Lois' mind as she frigged harder, her finger a blur on her clit, pussy stimulated inside and out. She wondered what she would look like with a big belly, what people would think of her when they saw her. Indisputable proof of Lois-the-slut, Lois-the-fucked, Lois-knocked-up-in-a-dirty-club-bathroom-by-this-hung-shemale-she-just-met—

The climax struck without warning, one of those lightning bolts up from the base of the spine that seemed to freeze the lungs in a small high-pitched expulsion of air, pussy and thighs clamping tight, toes curling, eyes clenched shut, aching hand a claw as it furiously abused her clitoris, riding through the orgasm, stringing it out...and in that moment there was no image, no thought, nothing but losing it as all the pieces slid together at once, and all Lois could experience was the explosion of pleasure from her pussy and clit.