Steal

Already tipsy, Lois grabbed the bottle marked 'XXX.' It was only about eight inches long, perhaps two inches in diameter, like a small wine bottle. Lois hesitated, eyes glassy, unable to focus on the bottle in her hand. It wouldn't be easy to smuggle a bottle out of the bar. She licked her lips, then her eyes focused on the slosh of the liquid contents—and an impulse hit her.

As her heart pounded in her chest, she quickly shucked pants and panties, to stand in the hallway in just her shirt and jacket. She began to slather the bottle—her tongue ran all over it. When it was good and slick, she placed it on the floor, between her feet.

The reporter squatted down, left hand there to steady the bottle as the cap slipped in to her dripping snatch. Lois shuddered at the cold, hard, intrusion. Eyes half-closed, she lowered herself down to her knees. From this position, she could apply more of her body weight on the bottle. Slowly, inch by inch she lowered herself onto the bottle. She had to fight the instinct to hump the hard object, but she just placed a hand on her lower abdomen, to feel the fullness as she pressed down further. The bottle went in another inch, then stopped.

Frustrated, Lois brought her legs up, and straightened her back—almost to a sitting position on the bottle. With an impossible, uncomfortable pressure, the bottle slid its final inch into her, and the reporter gasped as her bare ass hit the floor.

As she held the bottle in with one hand, Lois retrieved her panties, slipped them on. The elastic would help hold the bottle in. Next came the pants, which was more difficult, as it seemed harder to bend over with the whole bottle crammed inside her pussy, but she managed it. She shuddered as she drew the tight disco pants up over her ass, the added pressure on her crotch brought her almost to the edge. She assayed a few steps, which was difficult as she could barely close her legs, her hips waggled in a catwalk sashay...but that might work, with how tipsy she was. To casual inspection she was just a sexy club-goer there to strut her stuff.

The stairs proved a problem. She had to cup her pussy with one hand, the other on the rail, and go up sideways. Lois regretted her heels now, wondered at which dark step she would slip and break her ass, but over the course of many long minutes, she got up to the top of the stairs.

She breathed, panted a little. A good workout, and the Daily Planet's best reporter was glad she was in shape. Lois sidled up to the doorway that led back to the club, did a quick survey. The dance floor was out of the question, and if she went past the bar Maria or Sal would definitely have questions...but there was a fire door, not ten feet away, that would probably lead to an alley out the back. Then she could walk around the back, call a cab, and be home free.

Lois didn't spend much time on the plan. She went for it. Anyone who glanced in her direction saw a drunk woman, too drunk for a club, sashay toward the fire door and disappear through it.

Maria watched from the bar. Her ear buzzed.

"Let her go," Blaze said into the microphone. On the monitor, she saw Lois in the alley, one hand held to her crotch as the other dialed desperately. Ran a thumb over the head of her cock, and brought the digit up to her lips to lick the smear of cum from it. "The night is just getting started, for her."