End: J'onn J'onzz Rescues Lois Lane...After He Fucks Her

Curiosity mingled with desire. As his physical body strode through the back-alleys of Metropolis, so too did the Martian whorehunter's mind push past the outer boundary of the consciousness that called to him. As he came into view of the soft pink ass that stuck out from the hole in the wall, the telepath had already penetrated the consciousness of Lois Lane. Saw her travails on her night out, the strange manipulations that had led her to this place. Felt her raw need, even as her pussy dripped before him.

Gently, he separated her true consciousness from the shell of bimbified desire that had wrapped around it. To anyone watching, it would simply appear as if Lois Lane's eyes went blank, her mouth hanging open to drool idiotically. Yet inside her mind, for a brief moment, Lois Lane could think coherently.

::Hello, Lois Lane. I am J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter. I have come to rescue you.::

::Uh...hi:: the reporter thought back. A mental shudder went through her. Powerful a telepath as J'onn J'onzz was, she could not help but feel some of his own sexual desire and need leak through from his mind while they were in contact. It made her pussy even wetter than before.

He paused to let that sink in. Now he stood just before the reporter. His green hands reached out to caress the soft pink orbs of the reporter's ass.

::I need physical access to the neural cluster located in your pelvis. May I?::

Images flashed through the reporter's brain. Green-skinned women, soft and strangely proportioned. Long-dormant sexual desires awakened once more. The stringent control that prevented the alien from simply taking what he wished, though he could.

::Sure:: Lois thought back, grateful at least that she would be rescued. Maybe she was curious too, what that Martian dick felt like. Separated from the pink fog of lust that had engulfed her, the reporter was still conscious of how her repressed sexuality had led her to this strange circumstances, offering herself to be used by strangers. At least J'onn was a friend. ::Go ahead and fuck me.::

Something crawled out from the Martian Manhunter's pants. Like a great green grub, stubby legs reaching out blindly as the knobbly head found and rubbed against the reporter's cunny. The great green hands never ceased their massage of the reporter's buttocks, and in his mind the Martian conversed carefully with Lois Lane. It had been long since J'onn had alowed himself such intimate contact with another...and as his alien prick pushed its way into the reporter's cunny, like a huge green centipede, he experienced once again the long-denied pleasures of connecting with the nervous system of another...the primal sensations of a hot, tight hole...and he melted into the experience.

For Lois Lane, the initial shock of penetration swiflty gave way to a sense of...connection. As the Martian's phallus rubbed against her G-spot, it shifted in shape to maximize contact with her nerve endings. Their telepathic bond strengthed noticeably, and Lois Lane began to catch echoes of him penetrating her, even as J'onn began to feel her being fucked by him.

They moved together now, the Martian's green prick shifting its shape to maximize their mutual pleasure. A green nub like a thumb grew up from the back and gently poked as her asshole, and on the other side of the wall the reporter moaned like a whore at this new sensation...and the Martian Manhunter moaned with her.

As their passion grew, and the bond strengthened, there was no more need for words. They were like one mind in two bodies, locked together in that ancient dance, sharing sensations, memories, self-reflections. It was like the most intimate of conversations and dances, and the most primal of rutting, all at once...and Lois Lane worked with J'onn J'onzz as that pink, bimbo part of her was cordoned off, condensed, and partitioned within her mind. A part of herself to tap, when she needed it; a source of infinite sexual desire and submissiveness to draw on for future adventures.

Their mutual climax shook Lois Lane to the soul. The eruption within her was the reporter's first taste of a male orgasm, and the intensity of the ejaculation into her tight twat was a revelation. Never again would Lois Lane wonder why men were the way they were, or roll her eyes as they made excuses for their need to inseminate and breed. The Martian emptied his long-denied ardor into her, and for a moment Lois wished that she was one of those Martian women whose wombs would be fooded with that burning, potent, psychic fluid.

With their shared orgasm, the telepathic bond broke. With ridiculous ease, the alien hero phased through the wall, and tore off the straps that held the reporter in place. It was only a matter of moments before Lois was fit to leave, and they left together, his cape about her nakedness, his own green form shifted into the semblance of a forgettable human man. Already, his powerful telepathic signal had reached out to the Justice League, to inform them of the villainy taking place at the club. Lex Luthor and Bizarro would be dealt with, in time; the missing women found and rescued. The night would end with Lois Lane getting her story, her interlude with the Martian Manhunter only a memory.

Not that Lois Lane would ever forget. The memory of their psychic union would stay with her, long after her night out was over...a pleasant memory that she could always return to...and sometimes Lois would touch herself and lose herself in that memory, rubbing her slit and remembering that cock that had uniquely stuffed her greedy cunt as no other cock, not even Superman's, ever would or could.

In time, that would get her into trouble. Yet that is a different story.