Valeria Isn't Talking Yet

The full lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in Valeria's jaw set. She stared diffidently at the wall, away from Lois Lane. Diffident, stoic, a hard nut to crack.

Or, the reporter thought as the Latina's pussy dribbled over her fist. A slut who looks forward to getting split open. Maybe time for a different tactic.

Lois Lane pulled her fist away from Valeria's pussy. Not letting up on the arm bar a bit, the reporter gently touched the tiny stretch of skin between the dark-haired woman's pussy and asshole.

"On second thought...maybe you want to get fisted," Lois said. "Maybe you're staying silent because you hope I do split you open. But I don't have to. I can leave you on edge all night."

The finger pressed hard...and Valeria wiggled. Lois grinned as she realized she'd guessed correctly. Valeria wanted it. The only question was...did she want it bad enough?

"Tell me what you want," Lois Lane's voice was pitched low and husky. "What you really want. What these other bitches can't give you. Maybe we can help each other out. You tell me what I want to know, and I'll destroy your cunt exactly like you want it. So tell me: what do you need to really get off? Maybe you want me to **** you out and spit in your face? **** you to eat my pussy while I piss in your mouth? Or maybe you want to see how far I can shove my foot up your loose twat..."

Lois guessed, but she was focused on the tenseness of Valeria's shoulders, the muscles in her back. All the little tell-tales that Valeria couldn't hide. Then, softer than soft, Valeria whispered what she really wanted.