Lois Is Addicted

Hot coffee cut through the slime in her throat, and hit her stomach like acidic magma. But that wasn't why Lois Lane drained the cup. It was that slimy, somewhat bitter flavor mixed in with it. Right down to the dregs, the thick brownish-grey residue a the bottom of the cup that she scooped out with a finger and sucked down with breathless need...and it wasn't until Lois was standing there panting, strangely satisfied, licking her lips.

She stared at the bottle. It had refilled itself, and sat there. Not actively doing anything, just...sitting there. Tempting her just by existing.

Oh this is bad, Lois Lane thought to herself.

The reporter rinsed out the cup and set it in the rack to dry. She could still smell the jizz, that little ammoniac odor coming up from the glass bottle. It reminded her of her father's bedroom, the laundry hamper with all his underwear in it open, crusty stains that were disgusting and yet somehow enticing all at once...

Lois breathed into her mouth. Almost instinctively, she got dressed. She couldn't be in the same room with that bottle anymore...yet she could still almost taste it on the back of her throat, found her licking her lips almost obsessively, searching her teeth for one last little glob of curdled cum.

Survival instinct drove her out of the apartment, hand shaking as she locked the door behind her. Outside, she closed her eyes and rested her hand on the door.

"My pussy hurts," she whispered to herself, remembering how she had carried that bottle.

"My ass hurts," she said, remembering how she had kept it.

"I can't drink from it again." She turned and stalked toward the elevator.

It felt like there should be an invisible attached to her stomach and the bottle. Yet that was almost the worse part of it. Lois had heard about how crackheads and meth addicts got started. One hit and their brain flipped a switch, the pleasure overwhelming, the chemical addiction set in. Yet this was...it didn't get her high. It didn't make her anything, except maybe thirsty and a little queasy.

She took the elevator down, hands in her pockets. Back in her club wear again, sans underwear. The bottle all the way up there in her apartment.

Out onto the street, the cool night air seemed to freshen her up a little. Maybe it sobered her a bit.

I did have a few drinks tonight, right? Lois thought. Maybe I'm drunker than I thought. Maybe it's all in my head. After all, what's a little protein? Plenty of women have swallowed cum and haven't been addicted to it. Maybe this is just my celibate lifestyle coming back to haunt me, driving me on to do things...I do stupid things when I'm horny...

Her heels clicked on the pavement, but she had no particular destination. Muscle memory guided her back toward work, though she knew at this hour of night the Daily Planet would be dark, the staff gone home, at least until the owl shift came on to work on tomorrow's edition.

She licked her lips, unable to taste it any more...and she didn't know how she felt about that.