End: Jerk Blaze Off Into Her Open Cunt

"Is it a danger day for you, Callie?" Lois whispered into the young woman's ear.

The young woman's eyes grew wide. The reporter's grin grew a little wider.

"Angelica, pull your cock out of her ass. We're not going to waste it."

They shuffled position quickly, Lois acting as the director. Quick as a wink, Callie was on top of the sink, legs spread, her hands spreading her pussy apart to display that hot pink depths.

The dickgirl stood in front of her, hands behind her back. Lois had her right hand at the base of Angelica's shaft, tugging her a little closer. Her left hand was on Callie's belly, thumb rubbing back and forth against the hard little clit.

Everyone was watching. Phones were out, and more than one cock was out, hips jerking as they stroked it; fingers were rubbing pussies, and a couple was making out in the back, kissing as best they could while keeping one eye peeled on the scene in front of them.

"Oh my god," Callie said, shaking. "I mean...I'm really not on the pill. I could...if she cums in me, I could get pregnant."

"That's the idea," Lois said. She was almost shaking with excitement, and yet she projected utter confidence. The whole scenario was so insane, so dangerous—the reporter knew that she was going beyond anything she had ever done, sexually, taking chances she had never taken—but then again, why not? Her pussy throbbed, feeling the dickgirl's jizz inside her, the giant bandage keeping it locked inside where the little swimmers had a better chance of seeking out her egg.

"Maybe we can go through our pregnancies together."

Lois Lane's right hand was sliding back and forth now, and the tip of Blaze's dick was only an inch away from the spread-open lips of Callie's pussy. All eyes were on that gap as the reporter's hand drifted nearer and nearer to the tip, her thumb and forefinger drawing together tighter and tighter around the mighty phallus. The reporter wanted to see it as much as any of them...

Angelica's hips were twitching as the reporter's handjob reached that thick crest just behind the head, which had turned an alarming shade of purple, the rubbery flesh so taut that it seemed ready to burst at any moment. A constant thin stream of clear fluid was weeping from the urethra, which to Lois Lane looked like nothing less than a pussy in miniature, and maybe it was her own imagination that it looked like a little pussy itself...

She angled it perfectly, as Callie's fingers dug into her own pussy, spreading it wider. Lois could actually see the inner walls, her breath puffed outward, an invisible wave of hot air that rolled over pussy and cockhead at once, and when Lois breathed in she could smell their mingled scents, her own pussy feeling sticky and squishy behind its bandage, and Lois hoped desperately that Blaze would be up for another round to finish her off when they were done here.

For a moment, the world held its breath. It was as if an angel passed. Then it happened.

Blaze grunted once, softly. A white line seemed to cross in front of the reporter's face. Streaking in the tiniest of fluid arcs, straight into the depths of Callie's pussy. Then it happened again. And again.

The dickgirl's hips were moving, Lois was jerking, and by the sixth shot she could see the seed getting thinner and more watery, but the reporter's fist had never stopped pumping, and the crowd watched with something like awe as an eight...a ninth...and then a tenth and final rope crossed that little chasm. The reporter drew the unresisting dick closer to wipe the last dribble of semen off on Callie's clit.

Then she elbowed her lover out of the way.

Her mouth closed on the young woman's clit and sucked hard on the sensitive little nub, even as her fingers plunged into the open cunt, pushing the semen deep inside of the young woman.

The legs shook. Lois could taste the semen as she quickened her attack, sensing the fertile young bitch was on the edge...and pushed her over it.

Callie's scream broke the silence, and Lois swore she heard the crowd cheer. Something warm and astringent sprayed against the reporter's face as the young woman came, and Lois laughed at the squirting young woman who shuddered in the depth of what the reporter sincerely hoped was the most intense orgasm of her young life.

Her work done, Lois Lane stood up and wiped her fingers off on Callie's inner thigh. She knelt down and whispered something in the dazed young woman's ear, then kissed her softly on the mouth.

Blaze was waiting with a wad of paper towels to help clean the reporter's face. They left the bathroom arm in arm.

On the sidewalk outside, Lois hailed a cab.

"My place?" she asked Angelica. "That got me so hot, I really need you in me again."

"My pleasure," the dickgirl said, and in a strangely gallant motion lifted the hand up to her lips and kissed it before opening the door to the car for her. "Any time. But I do have one question."

"Shoot," Lois said as she entered.

"What did you whisper to our new friend?"

Lois smiled. "My email. I told her to call us if it takes—or if it doesn't."

Angelica Blaze gave a smile—a real smile, not a Mona Lisa smile. It was the smile of a child that had discovered some new and precious wonder.

"I love you," she said, simply and fundamentally.

"You had better," Lois shot back. Her hand rubbed her belly. "Because I'm not done with you by a long shot!"

There are other stories in Metropolis. ****, ****, and illness; robberies and crimes that there are no names for. Women who scream their last, and men who silently give up the ghost. Stories of silent despair and sudden madness. Who knows but in some other turn of events, things might have turned out very differently for Lois Lane on her night out...but here and now, though she knew later she might regret it, she was happy and content.