Fingers And Tongue

Circe's upper lip closed around Lois Lane's burned clitoris. Her tongue dragged at the top of the reporter's hot little tunnel. Two of the sorceress' fingers slid beneath her chin, inserting themselves into Lois Lane's pussy and tugging gently downwards. It was the first time that the reporter had been subject to such an ****...and Circe drank in the little moans of ecstasy that Lois was unable to stifle.

In her mind's eye, Lois kept trying to picture Superman. The Man of Steel looming over her, driving his hard dick into her wanton cleft. That mighty chin staring down at her as his Kryptonian cock got into those hard-to-reach spaces...

Then the image flickered, shifted. Lois Lane shuddered as in her mind's eye it was no longer Superman that was fucking her, it was Circe. The older woman was naked, lavender hair streaming, green eyes ablaze, fingers penetrating the reporter's pussy with quick, hard stabbing motions, scratching at her cunt on the way out.

Lois opened her eyes, breasts heaving, face flushed, and saw that the sorceress was still busy between her legs, tongue and fingers working the reporter's hole as if to stretch it out wider, all soreness from the burned clit gone now, leaving only a spot of odd numbness where the older woman's tongue ran over the sensitive knob.

Frowning, Lois closed her eyes again, and tried to picture that it was Superman again...her Man of Tomorrow...and for an instant he was there in her mind's eyes, handsome face smiling, blue eyes piercing, those wide shoulders heaving as he put all his gentle strength into plunging his cock deep inside of her cunt. Lois felt her heart flutter as she tried to imagine that this was their wedding night, making love for the first time, maybe even trying to make a baby...

The image slipped again. Lois felt her hips begin to press against Circe's face, but in her mind's eye the sorceress was there too, driving the reporter into heights of pleasure that she had never experienced with any male lover...and try as she might, Lois couldn't displace the image, couldn't try to pretend that this was someone, anyone other than Circe.

When her buttocks quivered, and her back arched; when her toes curled and Lois Lane cried out in pure pleasure, it was Circe's face that she saw as she came and came and came...