Slide Your Hand Down Your Panties And Jill Yourself Off

No sooner had the last syllable been whispered in her ear, the reporter's left hand moved toward her panties, just as Ivy's hand slid out. Lois wasn't even aware what she was doing until her fingertips slipped underneath the waistband of her black thong panties and were plowing through the carefully-trimmed patch of black pubic hair above her clit.

"Yessss..." Ivy hissed as her hands slid up under the half-naked reporter's shirt to grab Lois' small breasts.

"Uh," Lois managed as her fingers found her clit and began to rub. "Uh."

It was automatic. Instinct. Muscle memory. Lois Lane's cheeks burned as she felt the familiar sensation of rubbing her pussy overwhelmed her...except she wasn't at her own apartment, with a laptop tuned to Superman deepfake porn and with half a bottle of wine in her, she was standing in public with a strange woman fondling her breasts, pants off, everyone watching her as the reporter rubbed her own pussy beneath her panties...

...and it was working for Lois.

"Uh. Uh. Uh." Lois huffed, panting desperately as she increased her pace, legs trembling.

"You want to cum, don't you slut?" Ivy whispered. The villain's palms were crushing the reporter's breasts, rubbing them in rough circles, and all the eyes of the people on the dance floor were watching her.

"Yuh. Yuh. Yuhsss..." Lois grunted.

Ivy grinned as Lois, enthralled with the reporter's reaction to her control. Wanting to see what the limits of that control were.