Grind

Lois Lane grimaced, feeling the stone prick stretch her pussy. It wasn't so bad when she was staying still..but she knew that if she had any hope of actually finding the hidden switch, she would have to move.

So she started to grind, very slowly, back and forth. The reporter closed her eyes. All of her attention focused on her pussy. The sensitive lips mapped every carefully-sculpted vein and bulge, the little nobs around the crown, the wrinkles in the pushed-back foreskin which on a living prick would be so soft, but here were hard, titillating ridges rubbing against her insides...

The reporter shifted her hips, wiggling back and forth against the unmoving rod, letting it hit up against her walls. She was searching for anything weird...a protuberance, a bit that moved, even a seam or edge that might suggest the hidden lever which would open the door. And as her search went on, her frustration grew; the movement of her hips became faster, rougher...

Length had never been one of Lois Lane's turn-ons, but girth...she did like a fat cock. A dick that was too long would hit her cervix, which hurt like hell; and most guys were only good for plunging their pricks in and out of her like they were drilling for oil. But there had been once...Lois had been alone and horny in a dorm room with no air conditioning, just herself on a hot summer day, sweating into her short-shorts...and there was a can of Pepsi...

She had been horny and curious. The can was smooth and thick, twice as thick as any of her boyfriends, thicker than any of her toys. Lois had wanted to feel what it was like, just once, to get stretched out that far. So she had laid back on the bed, rubbing the can up and down her pussy, getting it nice and wet, working up the courage to press the blunt tip against her lips and try and shove it in.

Lois Lane had failed, back then. Her cunt, tight and inexperienced, hadn't been able to stretch to accommodate. Or maybe she just didn't have the courage to really try and ram it in there. Now, as she felt a moan escape her lips, the reporter realized she had slipped over the edge from investigation to just fucking.

She ground her hips on the statue's knob, letting it take more of her weight, feeling it press against the walls of her canal. Not too deep, but she didn't need deep penetration. Lois needed stimulation. Her free hand reached down between her legs, rubbing her clit as she rubbed her pussy against the hard crown of the tip of the cock, feeling the stone scrape against all her sensitive spots, stretching her out delightfully as she fidgeted to get just the right position...

...and as Lois panted, her mission forgotten in the heat of the moment, she felt something hard fall inside of her pussy, like finding a bone in your chicken.

Reluctantly, the reporter pulled herself off of the stony prick, hand hovering underneath her pussy.

The small, hard key fell right into her palm.