Wakes Up In Time To Feel The Creampie

Lois Lane woke up as warm cum splashed across her face.

Blubbered, jizz leaking out from beneath her lips, coughing as she inadvertently swallowed the bitter, salty mouthful and coughed again.

Her view was hazy, some looming red humanoid figure hovering over her, small pink cocks dim in her vision as they deposited their load and departed.

A cock was moving in and out of her. She could feel it slide against her inner channel. the red arms held her knees apart. The rutting grew faster, more frantic, the scarlet fucker gasping like a beast, dark things jutting up from their head like a two-pronged crown.

Pushed in deep. So deep that Lois felt her back arch, body contracting suddenly, her cry choked off as another salty spurt shot into her open mouth. Pussy contracting hard, toes curling, thighs aching, unable to lift her limp and useless arms, palms raw and fingers wrinkled with pussy juice.

There was too much happening to concentrate on at once. Lois understood then what all those filmmakers had tried to capture, in their psychedelic orgy sequences. Too many players at once, unable to capture them all, the audience unable to process who was doing what, where everyone was. Lois could feel cum dripping down from her violated ass, felt smeared sperm drying on her tits in strange patterns. Her cunt burned, raw and overflowing, thighs and back scratched, lips puffy...

Lois Lane felt the hot burst of seed within her. She knew that's what it must be, that it could be nothing other than this. like the tip of a burning lance pressed into the back of her cunt, so hot that a kind of burning numbness spread through her whole pussy.

Then the reporter collapsed backwards, panting, coughing, sputtering, the aches and pains coming back to her.

"Clean her up," a voice from the red figure, female, commanding. "Take her..."