Lois Takes Another Sip...And Another...

The reporter tilted the bottle to her lips, to let a little more jizz slide into her mouth. She set it down, and immediately the bottle began to refill as Lois tasted the cum on her tongue. It was still indisputably cum—slimy, salty, tangy and a bit tart. Yet there was something else in there, some flavor she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Lois swallowed the splooge. It slid down her throat easily, not quite as unpleasant as it had been a moment ago. She lifted the bottle to her lips to take another sip. A big one. Something she could roll around her cheeks, let all parts of her tongue taste it, really savor.

Warmer than the ambient air temperature, she noticed immediately, though the bottle itself didn't feel warm. If she had to guess blindly, it was almost as if the cum had just been ejaculated. Probably still dangerous, if she was ever foolish enough to get it in her pussy...not that Lois Lane would ever do that. There was an ammoniac odor like ripe cheeses sometimes got, and a slight chalky aftertaste that Lois associated with basic rather than acidic foods...Lois remembered that semen was supposed to be basic, to help counteract the acidic environment of a woman's pussy.

Where are you coming from? Lois thought as the bottle refilled itself. There can't be some Plane of Elemental Jizz like in some perverted Dungeons & Dragons game. So that means you have to be coming from someone, somewhere.

The reporter frowned, a sudden slight ache forming behind her eyes. She had been up too long, had drunk too many cocktails as well as more jizz than she'd probably tasted straight from the tap of her last six boyfriends. turning her back on the bottle, she turned and was grateful to see that she'd already set up the coffeemaker. A push of a button and it began to whirr away, boiling water.

A little caffeine would help her keep going all night, if necessary.

Lois spent the next few minutes licking her lips, tongue running over them, trying to get every little dab of man-cream off of her face. Her mind went back to the mystery of the bottle. The reporter's own personal Decanter of Endless Cum. Lois giggled at the thought.

A part of her wondered if the cum came directly from the mysterious cult beneath the club...the reporter imagined random men, grunting as they silently ejaculated at random moments, but the cum disappeared before it left the tips of their cocks, teleported to the bottle. Yet that didn't seem quite right. It was always exactly the right amount of cum, never overflowing the bottle...and it was always warm. No cold cum. So it had to be constantly fresh, somehow.

The coffee pot chimed, dark liquid pouring straight down into the mug Lois Lane had positioned underneath the spigot. She liked her coffee with a bit of cream, and Lois reached out and...blinked as she realized she was pouring semen from the bottle into the dark liquid, where it mushroomed up into a light brown cloud.

Lois shook herself and set the bottle down, where it automatically began to refill. She stared at the cup of cum-tainted coffee.

Why did I do that? She licked her lips. The bitter, earthy smell of the fresh-brewed coffee was mixed with the salty scent of cum. Lois breathed it in, and carefully brought the cup to her lips. Just one more little sip won't hurt...