They Are Allowed To Escape

"Subjects are slipping through the perimeter," Mercy Graves said. "But we can still catch them if..."

"No," Lex Luthor said. "Let them go. Begin clean-up procedure. I want this facility sterilized immediately. Leave no trace that we were here."

"Y-yes sir," Graves said. "But...why?"

"We can monitor the effects of the programming on them from a distance." Luthor allowed himself a tight-lipped smile and tapped at Lois Lane's latest bio-stats. "Because I've already achieved my primary goal. Superman seeing the woman he loves give birth to another man's child will be a far more grievous injury than Kryptonite."

The tunnel gave way to a sewer, the sewer to some kind of access tunnel. Lois bit her lip, riding the black cock all the way, trying not to moan as his stiff prick jumped and jolted inside of her. It just felt so right to have his dick inside of her. She never wanted to let it go.

Not did John Henry Irons seem inclined to let her go. His hands were always cupping her ass, squeezing and supporting her, only moving away when necessary. Lois felt melty inside when his hands were on her. She began to wonder how best to reward him for his efforts to save them both.

Finally, he clicked on a pinpad, locks unbolted and he stepped inside a dark room. Lights flickered on as the door slid shut and locked behind them.

"Home sweet home," he rumbled. "This is my workshop."

Gently, yet insistently, he set lifted her up and off of his cock. She looked around at a bare workspace—pieces of the Steel suit, computers, what looked like a forge, bits of machine-shop tools, racks of components. In one small corner was a toilet, a fridge, and a basic shower. Nothing like a bed, but there was an old couch in front of a large flatscreen television or minor.

"You must get...lonely down here." The reporter said, leaning against him. Her pussy felt so empty. It was like she needed to touch him...and he didn't shy away, his cock still hard after the long walk.

"Damn woman, don't you think about anything else?" He rumbled.

"Time and place for everything," Lois cooed. "And right now I want you to stop ducking the question. What do you do for entertainment down here?"

His face was carefully neutral. "I've got a television—streaming movies, a DVD player."

She cupped his balls in her hand. It fell like a pair of fresh-boiled eggs, warm and heavy. "What kind of DVDs?"

"You know...documentaries..." He was avoiding her gaze.

"Porn." She whispered. The reporter felt she could read him like a book. "What kind of porn?"

He swallowed hard. Now his brown eyes did meet hers.