Back To The Club

Something primal screamed in the reporter's backbrain, an animal urge to get away from this place. Lois shied away from the Black Door. Into the old freight elevator, slammed the door down, hit the button. Felt a weird sense of relief as it began to slowly rise. Instincts told her that she had just had a very near escape—although from what, she wasn't certain.

She laid a hand on her throbbing midsection, body still uncomfortably hot. It was like she was running a fever, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. As the elevator rose, she could hear the music begin to filter down from the club, the temperature rising, the smell of **** and unwashed bodies. The reporter thought of all the young men up there, and her pussy began to throb. Her tongue ran over her lips, tasting the lipstick.

All those hard cocks...

The reporter shook her head, wondering where that thought had come from. The elevator rattled to a stop, the doors opened...and Lois Lane's heart sank as she knew she had made a mistake.

The club was awash with hot young things, young, dumb, and full of cum. Lois could almost feel the seething tide of testosterone out there...and she had to get through all of it in order to make it out on the street again. Her lower body burned, and it took an act of frightening will to keep from touching herself, or grabbing the nearest warm body and rubbing up against it. The desire felt almost alien to Lois...the kind of thing she only experienced, in a very vague way, when she was ovulating. But now it was so much more intense, and it took everything she had to put one foot in front of the other.

Eyes followed her, heads turning as she slipped through the crowds. Lois knew she looked good, but not so good to cause boyfriends to look away from girlfriends. yet she felt the eyes glued on her as she passed. Bodies interposed themselves in her way, maybe accidentally, maybe not. Tight young forms brushing against her.

Am I emitting pheromones or something? They say men can smell when a woman is fertile...

A handsome young man with close-cropped dark hair stepped in her way as she neared the dance floor.

"Hey!" he yelled, smiling to flash his perfect teeth. She took him in at a glance: a couple inches over six feet tall, slim and well-muscled, the body of an acrobat rather than a bodybuilder, broad shoulders contained in a leather jacket, black jeans and black sneakers of the kind cops used, serious urban running shoes. The sheer mass of him caused Lois to pause in her beeline toward the entrance.

"I'm Dick!"

Her eyes dropped momentarily to his pants. There was a very distinctive bulge there, traveling down one leg. Bigger than a roll of quarters.

You certainly are, popped into the reporter's head.

"You want a drink?"

Lois paused, music thumping in her ears, a dribble of pussy-juice running down her leg and out of the ankle of her pants. Throat suddenly very, very dry.