My Turn

A mood of expectation gripped the crowd. Angelica Blaze's pounding prick pummelled pussy mercilessly, unrelentingly, the speed and vigor of the thrusts increasing, so that now Lois Lane was hanging on for dear life, and something happened then, something that Lois Lane had never experienced in all the years since she had first fingered her own twat.

She came again.

Waves of pleasure crashed through Lois Lane, her body gaining no respite as the utter cunt destruction triggered her first multiple climax. Her eyes grew wide and drank in the darkness as the crowd abandoned their pretense, some of them stroking their cocks openly now, others pawing at each other. There were smartphones out, their lights like tiny cat's eyes in the darkness, capturing the moment, but already the band had ceased to play and everyone in the bar was watching their frantic animal coupling, like a bull gorilla claiming its mate.

Angelica slammed Lois Lane down on her prick, so big and hard that Lois shouted in pain as though she feared it would rip through her stomach. The dickgirl's mouth found her shoulder, and sharp teeth bit down hard enough to draw blood—and Lois screamed, a wail of utmost primal satisfaction, not from the shock and pain and rough treatment, but because of the boiling heat that burst inside of her, so hot it seemed to scald her womb.

That triggered the general orgy.

Hungry mouths sought each other, strange hands grabbed eager cocks, sunk deep into wet holes and pried them open. Tongues delved seeking those salty, bitter, tangy flavors that only cunt and cock and ass could give. A thin young thing, barely past her eighteenth birthday, was drawn down by three dickgirls, her legs pried open as they prepared to break in her tight twat. Two half-naked women hugged and kissed and each other, unaware of the shemales that came up behind them, spearing their assholes at the same time, trapping them between them in an obscene sandwich that threatened to topple onto the filthy, sticky floor.

On the stage, the singer was silenced as a tattooed fan jammed her crotch onto the generous mouth, and as Lois looked all around, the mood spread like a fever...all humanity lost as they descended into frenzied, animal humping, pumping, lustful croaking, sweaty limbs jammed against each other. Lois swayed, drunken eyes barely comprehending the tumult of flesh and heaving bodies, the groping limbs and moans. Her body still shivered as her climaxes finally subsided, sore pussy still occasionally spasming as it tried to suck more semen from the softening dick, like a farmer trying to draw water from a dry well by pumping the handle.

A voice whispered in her ear.

"Look what you did," Angelica said, a touch of awe and pride in her voice. "How many of these bitches will get knocked up tonight? How many cunts will tear, how many cocks will feel the grip of an asshole for the first time? All those virginities lost, those new experiences gained, and none of them will forget it."

A warm tongue ran over the bleeding wound on Lois Lane's shoulder.

"Do you want to get out of here?" her lover asked the drunken reporter.