Epilogue: The Morning After The Night Before

Lois Lane woke like a cat. She was not one of those people who awoke slowly and groggily,but all at once, her whole body coming to attention in instant wakefulness—and by long practice and instinct, Lois never moved a muscle to show it. That habit had saved her life more than once, when she was kidnapped, bound, and sometimes chloroformed by villains.

So it was with eyes closed that Lois Lane recognized instantly that she was in an unfamiliar bed—flat on her tits, with wet spots on the mattress beneath her body, as though she had been sweating throughout the night—and her right wrist was locked in a padded handcuff.

She was not alone. She could feel the heat of a body next to her, hear the soft snores of a woman.

Memories of the previous night came back to Lois. Long hours in different positions. Pauses to drink, to pee, and then she would wander back again, hips swaying, mind bursting with ideas...and so it wasn't with much surprise that when the reporter peeled open one eye, very carefully, and traced the line of the handcuff from her wrist, she found that the other end of it was secured behind the cock and balls of Angelica Blaze.

They were no longer in Blaze's boudoir beneath the bar. The action had traveled up, above the club, to Angie's loft apartment. Scarcely furnished, but the bed was bigger and there were clean towels, a shower, a claw-footed tub, and less noise. In the dim light that filtered through the mostly painted-out windows, Lois saw the rigid, almost purplish cock and balls, swollen and standing tall and looking ready to burst.

She shouldn't have tied it like that, Lois thought. Her mouth felt gummy and acid from last night's booze, but her head was remarkably clear—no real hangover. The cock quivered there, so taut it looked like if a single prin pricked it then blood would shoot out in a high-pressure stream. She could get a blood clot that way. Or damage the tissues. That would be a terrible waste for such a magnificent dick.

Lois hadn't had a one-night stand in over a year, and she wasn't normally one for staying overnight. Last night had seen her break many of her personal rules, and her body was definitely feeling it this morning: her pussy was sore and aching, thighs felt like she'd run a marathon, bruises in odd places...and worse than that was the knowledge in the back of her mind that cum was still leaking out of her cunny. She was going to have to take a morning-after pill, get tested for STDs...

Her eyes never left the cock. She was pretty sure that she could pick this handcuff with a hairpin, but it would be cruel to leave the prick that had brought her so much pleasure last night in this state.

Action followed thought swiftly. Silent as a cat, Lois lifted up her body and shifted. her right wrist slid under those painfully swollen balls, to minimize the slack and prevent the chain from clinking. Her mouth hovered over the swollen cockhead. With her left hand, Lois gathered her hair up and out of the way...opened her mouth...extended her tongue.

Hope you don't mind a little morning breath, Lois thought as she lowered her head on the dick. Lips wrapped around her teeth. The hot, warm, familiar flesh filled her mouth. The reporter closed her eyes as she closed her lips around the head. Let her tongue swirl about the head, washed behind the glans. Though she would never admit it, Lois never minded the gritty little bitter smegma that built up behind the cockhead. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to leave her lover's cocks clean as if they had scrubbed it in the shower.

Her head bobbed, slowly. Drank in the smell, the taste, the heat and tremble. The sound of Blaze beginning to pant between her snores. There was no rush. She wasn't sure what hour it was, but the phramacies wouldn't be open for a little while. Lois was sure she had all the time in the world. For right now, this captive cock was all hers...

Of course, if that is the case, Lois thought. Why stop with a blowjob? I mean, if I'm going to get Blaze off...I could get off myself...

Once again, thought transitioned seamlessly to action. Still holding her right hand down by Blaze's balls, the reporter climbed up, her back to the sleeping dickgirl's face as she straddled the swollen shaft. Her left hand pried apart her labia, and gooey strands, leftovers of last night's lovemaking, drooled down onto the dick.

Lois lowered herself down...and had to bite her lower lip to avoid calling out. Last night had definitely been too much sex, too hard, too fast for a pussy well out of practice. Her labia was swollen and sore, her vaginal canal puffy and raw, maybe even torn. At least it felt like Lois was slowly shoving a fat bar of acid into her cunt...and yet she shivered with erotic need. She had to cum Actually needed it. Deep inside of her canal there was an itch that demanded to be scratched.

It had been a long time since Lois had felt that kind of need. Usually, as now, it came after long dry spells. Pent-up sexual lust that couldn't be sated in a marathon session of fucking, but required some subsequent dickings, hard and deep, to wash away the last few cobwebs of desire. Lois had heard that guys experienced something like that, but those horny pricks seemed to need sex just to go to sleep at night, in the reporter's experience.

The palm of her right hand pressed against those swollen balls as she eased herself down. Her eyes closed for a moment as her cunny settled into the sleeping dickgirl's lap, but then she opened them again. Curiosity had her look around her lover's apartment as she began to raise and ower her hips. It was fairly stark. A kitchenette that appeared to be clean but barely used, with a small folding table and chairs stolen from some out-door bistro. No television or laptop, but several large bookcases with a surpisingly old collection of leather-bound tomes. Not much in the way of art, unless you counted the odd pentagrams and sigils painted here and there on wall, floor, even ceiling. No chairs or couch either, and all the clothes must have been in the old chiffarobe.

Lois frowned as her body, on autopilot, rose and fell on the cock. It was like a bachelor pad. It needed a woman's touch. Scrape some paint off the windows, add a couch, maybe a few plants...

I could help Angie live like a real human being, Lois mused, her right hand grabbing those balls with a gentle and affectionate squeeze.

The reporter felt the added wetness inside of her as the cock slid in and out easier. A warm, wet trickle in her right palm. She looked down and saw fresh white cum foaming around the base of the dick.

Lois shook her head. In for a penny, in for a pounding; one more cuntful of jizz wouldn't make any difference after the night she'd had...and sudden determination seized the reporter.

Forget the pharmacy, she thought. After I cum, we're going shopping to find Angie some furniture!

Blaze slumbered on, utterly unaware of the plans being laid for her...or of the tiny sperm that even now struggled against the reporter's egg...and slipped inside.