Chapter 12 by Zeebop

What Has Lois Stepped In?

A Puddle of Cum

White. Sticky. The smell brought to mind memories of dates of long ago...when Lois Lane would close her eyes, and let her beau jerk off into her face. The hot jizz splattering her like gooey rain, running down her face as he grunted, and she couldn't escape that slight ammonia smell...

"That," the reporter said, looking at the puddle the size of her palm, "is a lot of cum."

She let the light of her phone play down the steps. There was more.

Drops and puddles, some thick and fresh, others dry and crusty tracks, like a college jock's favorite cumrag. There were grey-white handprints on the wall, on top of the weird erotic graffiti...Lois Lane eased herself down, keenly aware of the cool air on her bare pussy, trying not to stop in the jizz directly.

Who did this? She wondered. Who could do this? There's more cum here than in your average bukkake video, and so much of it is so thick...and so fresh...

The smell was thicker at the bottom of the steps. Lois Lane couldn't avoid the puddles now, she was stepping in it wherever she put her foot. Sticky step after sticky step, she moved through the tunnel...it was dark, no sign of any lights at all...and old, so old. It felt like she was inside a pyramid or a catacomb...yet somebody had to have been down here, and not too long ago.

Then she heard the noise. Familiar, though long ago, echoing through the narrow stone corridor.

Fap fap fap.

The reporter was breathing shallowly, able to taste the cum even as she tried to avoid making any noise. The corridor didn't turn, and with the pale light of her phone she could just make out what looked like an end to it...and some sort of chamber beyond.

Fap fap fap.

The hairs were standing up on the back of Lois Lane's neck. Her journalistic instincts wanted her to go forward, but her survival instincts wanted her to run. She was half-naked in a confined space that looked and smelled like a used porn set. The reporter turned and glanced back at the stairs that led up and away from the tunnel, not sure what to do. She could still hear that rhythmic sound of skin on skin, echoing down the corridor, faint yet constant...

Fap fap fap.