Break His Balls

Lois smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. Swimmers at the beach usually saw a smile like that attached to a fin cutting through the water.

She took a knee. Her hands gripped the idol to her stomach tightly. The Brit stood with feet shoulder-length apart. He was stroking his cock, already hard and erect, pointing straight out. A good length, uncut, looked clean—in other circumstances, a prick Lois thought she might like to play with.

He really did have a nice length. It was almost too bad.

"That's the spirit luv," the blond man smiled. "C'mon now, give us a kiss, you beautiful cunt."

Not quite as fast as a speeding bullet, Lois stood up. Her knee slammed between his legs. The shock of the impact went all the way up her leg. She probably imagined the little popping sound, but not the sudden spurt of something warm and wet on her thigh, or the high-pitched strangled yelp that emerged from his throat.

The reporter held them there for a long moment, grinding her kneecap into the ruin of his testicles. A part of her wanted to say something cool. Or maybe take his money. But instead, she let him sink to the ground, and stepped over the prone, shaking Brit as he started to noisily vomit.

Limping a little, Lois staggered out of the alley. Her knee was starting to really hurt. She looked down, scowling at the line of white jizz on her thigh...and then saw that some of it had gotten on the idol. The swirls on the stone belly were beginning to glow.

Uh oh, Lois thought. That can't be good.

"W-wait..." the Brit squeaked out, still holding his crotch. "Y-you're in d-danger..."