End: I'll Get You Next Time, Lois Lane!

The words echoed through Lois Lane's head.

Something like a sigh passed through Blaze's body. The crucifix was as deep inside of the demon's ass as it could go, and Lois Lane felt sure that it had to be hitting her prostate, or some other vital organ, became all the strength seemed to leave the scarlet succubus's body.

Then she exploded.

It was like a balloon popped. Lois Lane was shaken, shocked, flinched. For the barest fraction of a moment she saw, amid the paper-think scraps of crimson skin, the shape of the female demon perfectly captured and outlined in white...and then all of it collapsed on top of Lois. The weight of the cum knocked the reporter to the floor, and she lay there in shock, her entire body—but mostly her crotch—utterly covered in demonic jism.

It was soaking into the carpet. Lois was sitting in it, the crucifix in her hand was covered with it. She felt her heart thundering wildly in her chest, trying to breathe shallowly as the ammonia smell of what must have been absolutely gallons of raw cum washed over her...and not far behind that, deep inside of her stomach, came the response that she feared and dreaded.

Hunger.

Imagine a meth addict covered in a fine powdery haze. Lois began to sweat, almost immediately. She resisted the urge to lick her lips. Stiffly, body still sore in odd places, still able to taste Blaze's cock in her mouth, the naked, cum-spattered reporter levered herself to her feet.

There was a wet vac in the closet. What followed was not sexy. Not for Lois Lane, though the reporter knew that it must fulfill some fetish. Still naked, still sore and sticky, she began the slow, painful process of cleaning up every drop of Blaze's spilled cum. Her stomach growled. Mouth salivated. It was a struggle of will, and Lois Lane knew, as every addict knew, that if she allowed herself to indulge even for a moment she was lost. Somehow, she had chased the demon away...at least for a time.

Now she was left with nothing but her addiction, and a horrible mess to clean up.

It took hours. There was the carpet, sure. The wall. The crucifix she gently washed in the sink, and dried with a hand towel. The bed—Lois bagged up the sheets in trash bags, determined to throw them out—and finally, in the hour before dawn, there was Lois Lane herself.

She stared at her naked body briefly in the mirror. Her carefully trimmed public hair was completely lost in a grey scum of dried cum, her thighs streaked with it. It had splashed over her belly and breasts, and her eyes looked hollow, drops of forgotten jizz on her chin and in her dark hair.

Lois Lane entered the shower.

The water ran cold at first, and Lois Lane shivered, eyes hot as tears found their way to the surface. Her stomach churned, wanting to puke as she spread her legs and saw the grey ooze drip out of her sore cunny. She could still feel some of it inside of her. Like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

The water warmed. Dried jizz began to melt and run. Lois helped it along with her sponge, wiping her skin clean. Running it down between her aching thighs, over the raw and puffy lips. A razor took care of the cum-matted pubic hair. The reporter blinked through the steam, her skin growing red beneath the boiling water as she scraped her mons smooth. Then and only then did she unhook the shower head attachment on its hose.

Lois braced herself against the wall, knees bent. Her skin burned, as the hot water washed over her asshole. As her fingers spread her lips apart, she knew that this was going to hurt.

The shower head pressed up right against her sensitive cunt, and Lois Lane almost screamed as boiling water shot up inside of her pussy. Blowing the accumulated cum out of her birth canal. Yet it wasn't enough. Lois could still feel it inside of her...deeper...

She pressed the showerhead against her spread open pussy and pushed. The reporter bit her arm to stifle the scream as the flaring head stretched her sore cunt to its limit. The hot water gushing into her cunt, spraying out over her hand as it sought to escape. Lois pressed it forward, as far as she could, as far as she dared, until one arcing jet hit a place too far inside of her and Lois did scream, her legs collapsing underneath her, numb hand letting go of the shower attachment.

Lois Lane cried as half-blind with steam, she fumbled for the temperature knob...and icy cold water washed through her pussy, as the last of Blaze's jizz circled the drain.

Despite all that, Lois felt unclean. She didn't know if she would ever feel clean again. Yet the worst part...the absolute worst part...was that she knew if the demon reappeared at just that moment, cock hard and ready to cum... The reporter spit. Not wanting to admit to herself what she was ready to do to taste that demonic dick cream one more time.

Dawn broke over Metropolis, and Lois Lane toweled off, feeling older and wiser for her night out. Something told her that the night would haunt her for a long time. Maybe it was those final parting words before Blaze had been banished...or just left.

"Next time."