Yes, Lois Remembers It All

Something beeped. It seemed to echo the throbbing deep in her skull, the shrill little electronic sound drilling into both of her ears. Lois Lane dragged one eye open, hand fumbling for her phone. The alarm was going off. 0504. She made the moves on the screen to make the noise go away. Lois could feel herself laying on a small cot in a small room.

Her mouth tasted like something had died in it, saliva gummy, lips and tongue dry. Just like the last time she'd drunk vodka straight. Then, it had been a celebration—her last night out on the ship to Antarctica, to cover U. S. Outpost #31, the research station and the thing they'd dug up out of the ice...

No pants. No shirt or bra. She found her panties on the floor, but didn't put them on yet. There was a wet spot on the bed—and Lois knew how it had got there.

Bleary-eyed, head pounding like some evil little dwarf were hammering away right behind her nose, Lois looked down between her legs. The dark, carefully trimmed patch of pubic hair was matted with cum, grey and greasy and half-dried. Her lips below looked red, swollen, inflamed. Wincing, Lois leaned forward and dug a finger into her cleft...and brought it up. Greyish ooze. Not like any cum she'd ever seen...but it smelled like cum.

"Fuck," Lois muttered. She'd gone crazy last night. Drunk and horny, practically demanded that dickgirl—Angelica, that was her name—fuck her. So she had. Lois looked down at the gummy mess that was her cunny and knew she'd been balled hard. It was easy, when you were drunk and not feeling any pain, to take a dick harder than you should. The reporter had no doubt that she'd be feeling the events of tonight's session for a day or two...and that's if the dickgirl hadn't given her an STD.

Lois pulled herself to her feet. Phone in one hand, panties in another. Staggered to the door. Ducked just her head out to look left and right down the short corridor. One door led to the bar, the other...a bathroom. She could see a toilet, and a sink. Needed both. The reporter took a breath and dashed across the hall.

It was clean, if almost as small as an airport bathroom, and there was no lock on the door. Lois sank down on the toilet gratefully, and let her bladder empty itself....and empty...and empty...and then she felt the first terrible rumblings in her stomach and groaned as all the carbohydrates she'd had last night made themselves known.

This was always the way of it. The overindulgence the night before and the terrible toll on her body the morning after. Lois took the time to review the events of the night in her mind, and check her emails on the phone. By the time she was sure her body was done, her ass was numb, and it smelled as though something had crawled into the toilet bowl and died.

Stand up, wipe, flush.

Lois took wads of the cheap two-play toilet paper and ran them over her pussy lips again, pulled at the half-congealed cum in her pubic hair. The only saving grace she could think of was that meant not every single sperm went inside her cunt last night, although that in itself was cold comfort.

A wasted night out, the reporter thought. And I got wasted. I came here to find those missing women, and ended up as some stranger's cumrag.

She moved to the sink. Palmfuls of cold water rubbed the rest of the cum from the outside of her crotch and legs. The naked reporter shivered a little as she splashed it on her armpits, the sweaty underboobs...and grimaced as she saw the bite-marks on her breasts, the hickeys on her throat. Remembered how she had moaned as Blaze had moved on her like a wild animal, marking its territory.

There was a knock at the door.

"Hey." Angelica's voice. "Making coffee. How do you take it?"

"Bit of cream, no sugar," Lois said.

"You got it."

Sound of footsteps in the hall headed away. Lois put her panties on, opened the door...and looked down. Her clothes, neatly folded, with her shoes on top. Not clean, but it would do.

Five minutes later, Lois re-emerged, looking like a more disheveled version of the night before. Toilet paper and water couldn't remove all of her makeup, so the mascara was a bit dark around her eyes, and her hair was tusselled and...well, the just-been-fucked look.

Blaze was at the nearest table. Lois was not surprised to see the dickgirl was in the same jeans and t-shirt. No shoes or socks. Now that Lois knew to look for it, the bulge in her crotch was obvious. She could actually see the swollen purple tip of her dick, just behind the brass button above her fly. Morning wood.

A china cup of coffee on a saucer. Cream in a shotglass beside it, looking off-white and off-putting.

Lois sat down opposite her, dumped the cream in the coffee, and stirred. Leaned forward and breathed in the fumes. drew the cup up in both hands and took a long, slow sip, to keep from scorching her tongue. The cream gave it a weird taste, but not unpleasant...and Lois was just happy to have the hot caffeine flow into her empty stomach.

"So...you're clean, right?" Lois said.

Blaze smirked. "No STDs, if that's what you mean."

"It was."

They drank their coffee.

"I had a feeling, last night—before you finished the bottle—that maybe you were looking for something besides a one night stand." Angelica said at last.

"I was," Lois said, unable to keep a sigh of disappointment out of her voice.

"I might be able to help with that," the dickgirl said. Her mouth was in a slight Mona Lisa grin, like she knew a secret the reporter didn't. "If you help me with something."