Yes, But Not Long Enough For The Lab Tech To Finish

Sheer will kept the reporter from responding as Lex Luthor groped her tit, and the lab tech plunged the depths of her cock. Some things were beyond Lois Lane's control: the way her nipples stiffened, and her cock, the erectile tissues that filled with blood in response to the stimulus...but other than that, Lois gave no sign that she was anything other than asleep and having her brain slowly programmed into being Luthor's personal futa secretary-cum-fucktoy.

Agonizing, interminable minutes stretched on as Luthor explored her body...ran his hand down the flat plane of her stomach. Wrapped his fingers around her cock, the thumb and forefinger cinched tight around the base. It was as though he measured it, determined to see if his well-laid ass could handle her fat girlcock...and then, he began to stroke.

Lois Lane had to fight to keep her muscles from tensing as his fingers, clamped about her dick, slowly rose and fell. It was bad enough that he stroked her, but the probe sounding out her urethra added another layer of sensation. Her cock burned, the tip of the probe near her bladder, the tip of her urethra stretched wide. Sweat beaded the reporter's forehead and armpits, dripped slowly down onto the hospital bed, and there was nothing Lois could do about that slow trickle except endure it.

A familiar pressure built up between her legs. Absurdly, Lois Lane told herself that she should hold it, at least until it was time for Mr. Luthor's coffee, and the reporter squeezed her eyes tight against the pink flashes that seemed to burn through her eyelids, brain a confused by the sudden onslaught of images, cock a-tremble as precum spilled out of the engorged tip...and Lois could feel her control slipping, she was so close...

"Mr. Luthor? There's a disturbance upstairs..." Someone said to him.

With grim determination not to give the game away, Lois Lane waited as the footsteps receded. A door shut.

The technician reached down with one gloved hand and pressed at the very bottom of Lois Lane's dick, where the head of the probe was.

With a grunt, Lois Lane's hips lifted off the table. The probe burst out of her cock, carried on a spurt of heavy cream...and rope after aching rope splattered up and then down on the rigid, twitching prick. Unable to control herself, the bound reporter shook her head to toss off the helmet...and her violet eyes widened with surprise as she recognized the lab tech who had been probing her girlcock.