I Need To Think About That

Which is how, after a bit of travel, Lois Lane found herself and her guest back at the reporter's apartment. Angelica Blaze admired some of the framed headlines on the wall, stopped to consider the pictures of Lois's father and sister. The reporter, for her part, began to strip. Her cunny was dripping with demonic spunk, and the sensation was not entirely pleasant. Blaze turned most of a blind eye, though Lois made no effort to hide herself as she threw the soiled clothes into the hamper in the bedroom.

After all, it's nothing she hasn't seen before, Lois thought.

"Still thinking about it?" Blaze asked. She sat on the reporter's bed, smoothing the duvet with a palm.

"There's a lot to think about," Lois said.

"Hmm. Of course, there's no guarantee you're pregnant yet," Blaze mused. "And too early to take a test. Plenty of women miscarry early on. It might not even happen. But hypothetically...if you were to get pregnant from tonight's lovemaking..."

Lois snorted. "Here I thought it was just sex."

"...would you keep it?"

And there it was. The question. Unspoken were the options. Morning after pill. Abortion. Plenty of women had done both. Relatively safe and available, if you had the money. Lois wasn't rich, but she knew if she didn't want a baby, she didn't have to have one. That was a luxury that most women throughout history hadn't had, and they had been in much worse positions than hers.

Yet there was more to it than that, and Lois knew it. There was a Superman-shaped hole in her thoughts, something she was deliberately trying not to think about. The reporter stepped past Blaze, headed toward the restroom, when the demonic dickgirl's warm, strong hand grasped her wrist. Lois stopped and looked down.

There was a bulge in the dickgirl's black jeans. Very distinctive. The dark eyes looked up at Lois hungrily.

"You don't have to make a decision tonight. If you want to go again..."

Lois couldn't decide whether to smile or frown.

"You just want to fuck another load in my cunt," the reporter said, voice neutral but deliberately being crude.

"Yes," Angelica said smoothly. She wasn't smiling that Mona Lisa smile now. Her thumb massaged the back of the reporter's hand, holding Lois only loosely. The reporter felt if she pulled her hand away, Blaze would let it go. "It doesn't always have to be a chase, a struggle to be seen, to get laid. Sometimes when two people are...amenable...they can just make love. Or fuck, if you prefer. It doesn't have to be hard."

"Looks like you're hard enough for both of us," Lois said.

In answer, Blaze's left hand came forward and unzipped the fly. No underwear. The hard cock popped right out, finally freed of its prison, standing stiff and wiggling slightly as though it could smell the reporter's pussy.

Lois paused. Her pussy was...well, wet. Slimy with Satanic spunk. More than that though, she felt a familiar itch inside her cunny. It had been a long dry spell, before tonight. There had been times when she had come out of such dry spells, and to finally have a real live partner...a hot cock, stiff and ready to go, to scratch all those places inside of her...well, she had felt that kind of hunger before, and she felt it now, poignant and strong.

"I shouldn't," Lois said. "I mean, even doing it once, I could be knocked up."

"If you're already pregnant, what's the difference?" Blaze said coolly. "And if you're not, well, how is that any different than right now? You'd have the same decision to make either way."

While Lois was chewing that over, Blaze gave the reporter's arm a little tug. Lois let herself be pulled to face the demon. Held her breath as Blaze's tongue ran a line, from just above the carefully-trimmed patch of black pubic hair to the reporter's navel. Ending in a little kiss.

Instinct had Lois push forward, her hands on Blaze's shoulders now, pushing her back onto the bed. That cock came up, as Lois lowered her hips to straddle the dickgirl...and there was a moment of hesitation, before Blaze entered her again. Doubt, guilt, and worry warred with sudden, **** need. The dark eyes fixed on Lois, the thumb of her hand twisted itself into Lois's palm.

"I won't make you do anything," Blaze promised. "That you do not want to do."

Lois Lane shuddered. The long hours of the night, on her feet, suddenly came back to her. She felt all of her years then, no longer the young teenager that could dance all night and run a marathon the next day. How much harder it would get, just to get pregnant, to chase babies, as she got older...and...

Be honest with yourself, Lane, Lois thought as she lowered her slimy pussy back on that rigid rod. You like to be the one chased and seduced, for once. Why play hard to get? You know you both want it...and wherever Superman is, he isn't here. Hasn't been here, all night...

Not for the first time that night, and not for the last, Lois Lane let herself go. Her hips rocked, buttocks bouncing against Blaze's balls. The dick lay still, letting Lois take the lead, her hands exploring the reporter's body...and as they went, Lois peeled off the dickgirl's clothes, and did some exploring of their own.

Somewhere, Superman flew through the cold vacuum of space, the rays from alien weapons burning through the dark around him. At the Daily Planet, Perry White laid out the front page for the evening edition. Down in Mexican waters, four lost women drank and sang off-key to Sleeter Kinney. It was karaoke night, and all their classes and worries were far away. They were young and drunk and horny, and the night seemed to last forever...

...and in Metropolis, Lois Lane gasped and bucked, the bedsprings creaking regularly now as the reporter begged for just one more orgasm, and Blaze's face was tense, a stupid smile that was nothing like her normal Mona Lisa stiff-lipped grin on her face as she massaged the reporter's breasts with her hands, balls tensing as one final load made the long trip from between her legs, up through the cock buried in the reporter's cunt, to explode deep inside of the reporter's already overflowing pussy.

A single egg traveled down a fallopian tube.

An armada of small black shapes swam toward it with blind purpose.

As Lois Lane's night out ended, the reporter collapsing in a sweaty mess in Blaze's arm, contact was made...and the reporter, totally ignorant to what was happening inside of her body, fell asleep without knowing what decisions she would have to make, in the coming weeks and months.

Which left Blaze lying there, the reporter in her arms, sperm oozing out of the reporter's slit. The demon Blaze, in her human form, was wide awake...and thinking hard.