Epilogue: None of Lois' Panties Fit Right

Lois groaned quietly to herself at her desk, rubbing her temples in vain hopes it would help relieve the pressure in her head. She didn't remember much about last night, at least not after she had taken that first drink in the club. The Daily Planet's best reporter couldn't even find any hastily-scrawled notes in her purse or pockets. The whole evening was a complete waste...

...and for some reason, none of Lois' panties fit right. When the alarm had gone off this morning, she had tried to throw on the first pair that came to hand, but her raging morning wood made an obscene bulge. Lois had gone through her entire underwear drawer, trying to find something, anything that would be decent, and it had been a total lost cause.

Finally, the erection had died down and the reporter had resorted to her crotchless panties—which at least let her cock hang comfortably—and paired it with a skirt that hung down past her knees. As long as she didn't suddenly pitch a tent, Lois could get through the day. That was all she was hoping for, really.

It was strange to Lois how much trouble she was having with her dick today. It wasn't an issue she remembered ever having before. Even sitting down to pee hadn't worked out quite right, the dangling cock feeling awkward between her legs, and she was afraid the tip would go in the water...although it hadn't.

You'd think I never had a dick before, Lois thought to herself. It was an odd thought and gave her an odd feeling like when she had forgotten a word and it was just on the tip of her tongue... I'll remember it eventually.

The headache grew throughout the day, and Lois felt increasingly off. More than once she had noticed her gaze lingering on her female coworkers...every hint of cleavage or curvy ass seemed to grab her attention and hold it, and it was all that Lois could do to avoid staring. She wasn't entirely sure she had been successful.

Worse than that, she could feel the heat building within as her imagination ran wild. Lois had never been sexually attracted to women before, but now she could feel a steady building pressure inside of her, a need for release.

Still, Lois Lane was a professional. She worked through her assignments diligently, typing up brief pieces for her editor, doing more background research on those missing women—she had gone through most of the publicly-available data, but there was still social media, and she spent hours going through their Twitter and Facebook accounts, cross-referencing names, faces, events...the club featured prominently in the last month or so, and each of the women had claimed to have recently gotten new jobs...

One by one, her coworkers left for the evening. Lois was known as a hard worker, there was nothing unusual about her staying in the building late into the night when she had a lead. They were all alone when someone knocked politely.

Lois turned to see neat cornrows, warm chocolate eyes hidden behind glasses, cheeks sprinkled with little dark marks like freckles on the brown skin...and as the reporter looked down, she was aware of a short, curvaceous figure, bottom heavy, wide hips and heavy breasts hidden in a brightly-printed dress.

"Miss Lane? I'm Ashanti, interning for Connie Hatch. She wondered if you could take a look at this?" One brown hand extended, palms soft and pink, holding a folded piece of paper. Connie Hatch was the puzzle editor of the Daily Planet, and sometimes she asked Lois for help with research on some of the weirder clues.

The reporter carefully unfolded the piece of paper. It was a cut-and-paste note, one of those messages created by cutting out letters from magazines and newspapers and pasting them together to form words, the better to confuse police or other investigators. Most of the "words" in this case seemed to be just a jumble of random letters... "fhtagn" and "R'lyeh" weren't words in any language Lois knew...but in the middle of the page, spaced out quite prominently in all-caps, was spelled:

CROATOAN

"Uh...Miss Lane...what is that?" Ashanti asked, pointing down at Lois' crotch, where her sudden erection was tenting her dress.

In reply, Lois let the paper fall to the floor and stood up. She was a full head taller than the intern, and her cock was pointing straight at the smaller woman, throbbing insistently, a wet spot forming on her dress where the precum was soaking through the fabric.

"You know exactly what it is," Lois said breathily. She strode forward, and Ashanti backed away two steps until she ran into the wall. The reporter kept moving until her cock was rubbing against the black woman's stomach.

"I want you," almost instinctively Lois' hands latched on to Ashanti's tits, feeling the warm, soft flesh through the fabric of the intern's dress and bra. The intern gave out a little moan.

"Tell me," Lois squeezed the milkers hard, gently rubbing her cock against the black woman's belly. "Tell me you want it."

Ashanti swallowed, eyes wide. "I...oh...okay."

It was all Lois needed to hear.

Lois lifted her dress, exposing her rigid rod. Ashanti clung to the wall, staring down at the pink cock as the reporter lifted the front of the back woman's skirt. White frilly panties clung to dark skin, but with an impatient urge Lois slipped a finger through the crotch and pulled them aside, revealing the dark chocolate labia. Ashanti shivered as Lois ran an inquisitive finger over the pussy.

"A little dry," the reporter growled. "But we can fix that."

The reporter dropped to her knees and buried her face in the intern's crotch, tongue lapping at the pink slit, hands kneading the thick brown thighs. She inhaled the stale crotch-sweat, the fishy odor of pussy in need of a bath. Lois could barely contain her own erection, but she knew that Ashanti needed to be slick if she was going to take all of Lois—and the reporter had no intention of letting this one go away until she'd emptied her load into her tight quim.

After a minute or two, Lois could feel Ashanti relax, moaning softly as the reporter's tongue squirmed and explored, lapped and slathered at her fuckhole. Her own dick felt like it was about to explode, the hot tip so sensitive that she felt like she could spurt at any moment.

Lois rose up on one knee, spreading the dark labia open with one hand to line her cockhead up with the intern's hole.

"Wait...a condom...my boyfriend..." The intern gasped.

"Feels better raw," Lois grunted and stood, sliding her prick into the tight, hot recess. Ashanti squealed.

It was a steady, driving fuck. Ashanti's ass was against the wall, and Lois plowed her standing up, slipping a hand under the shorter woman's knee to help lift and spread her leg, exposing her cunt for a proper deep fucking. Lois gasped and bucked, feeling ready to explode at any moment...and then she did, shooting off deep inside the warm brown pussy that was wrapped around her dick.

But Lois didn't stop.

"Touch yourself," Lois ordered, not slowing her pace even as she pumped jizz deep into Ashanti's trench, never slowing her steady driving rhythm. "I want to see you get off."

Trembling, the intern moved to comply. Her strong brown hand reached down, brushing against Lois' plunging cock as it sought out the little dark purple nub at the beginning of her folds, and began rubbing it. Lois watched her, even as the cum streamed through her cock, starting to drip down those quivering brown thighs, all eyes on Ashanti's face as she began to rub her swollen clitoris.

The young black woman's eyes' closed as she lost herself in her own little world. Lois wondered if she was imagining her boyfriend, but Lois doubted it. If he had been fucking Ashanti properly, the intern would already have a bun in her oven.

That's what I'm doing, Lois realized. I'm breeding her. I want her to cum so that she gets knocked up with my sperm.

Ashanti's climax interrupted Lois moment of revelation. The pussy clamped down hard, threatening to squeeze the hard prick off of the reporter's body, the thighs trembled and breasts heaved. Lois gave her a few more strokes and then pushed in as deep as she could, feeling the last few spurts of jism shoot deep inside of her new lover. Imagining the woman's cervix come down to lap up the sperm and carry it toward her waiting eggs.

The deed done, Lois took a step back, letting her dress fall to cover her erection. Ashanti leaned against the wall, dress crumpled between her legs, soaking up the runoff of baby batter spilling from her fresh-fucked cunt.

Lois shook her head. It felt like she'd lost a few minutes. She stared at the flustered intern leaning against the wall. Ashanti, Lois remembered. Her name's Ashanti. Connie's intern.

"Is there...anything else I can help you with?" Lois asked.

Numbly, the young black woman shook her head. She bent down to pick up a folded piece of paper that had fallen to the floor.

"Okay. Well, I need to go to this club. Investigative reporting to do," Lois explained as she turned to gather her things for a night out. Her headache wasn't gone, and even her cock throbbed. I definitely need a hair of the dog.