Epilogue: Better Safe Than Sorry

"The blood work will check for sexually transmitted diseases," the doctor said. She was a few years older than Lois, one of those women built like a bird, with that fragile, prominent bone structure and not much meat on her. Dark hair chemically straightened, brown eyes kind. "But there are no external symptoms, and no signs of pregnancy."

Lois Lane, resting in the stocks with her panties off and skirt up, let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. A little tension drained out of her shoulders.

"You've got some bruising and tears, which is common with...vigorous sexual activity," the doctor said. The metal speculum was cold, down below, holding Lois's pussy uncomfortably wide open. A brush tickled deep inside of Lois as the doctor took a pap smear.

Their eyes met.

"I have to ask...were you ****?"

Lois sighed. "No. It was a one-night stand. We just got...carried away."

"Hmm. Did you want me to write you a prescription for birth control?" The doctor's eyes turned back to her task, sealing the sample, and moving to remove the speculum. "Just in case it happens again?"

It's not going to happen again, Lois thought to herself. Except what came out of her mouth was: "Could you, please?"

At the pharmacy, filling the prescription, Lois paused before the small section devoted to prophylactics. Condoms. Female condoms. Dental dams. Spermicides. Lubricants. The reporter chewed her lip as she surveyed the carefully clinical options. She always felt subtly embarrassed shopping this section...absurdly concerned someone would see her.

After all, I'm a grown woman, Lois thought, as she selected a small bottle of water-based lube, a packet of ultrathin condoms, and a tube of spermicidal jelly. There's nothing wrong with being prepared. Just in case.

It felt weird, carrying the condoms in her purse. Yet Lois felt a little better, just having them there. Not that she planned, in any way, to have sex again anytime soon. Yet now that she had sex, Lois felt hyper-aware of the dangers. She wasn't in a place in her life where she could have a kid, and had no desire for an abortion. No, better safe than sorry.

I can always masturbate, Lois thought to herself, as she went through the motions of the day. She smiled at Clark Kent, joked with Jimmy Olsen, wrote up her copy for Perry White, gossiped with Cat Grant. Perfectly normal. Her pussy was healing. A little sore, even after a few days, but then it had been a while since she'd had sex.

In the dark, Lois placed the vibrator against her bare cunt lips. On her laptop, a musclebound pornstar slid his big dick in and out of the moaning, big-titted porn starlet. Lois watched for about ten minutes, playing the buzzing dildo over her lips, before she realized she was more focused on the set—some sort of Grecian-style villa—than the action. Frustrated and bored, she turned off the porn and washed the vibrator and put it away.

Nothing strange about that. Like most women, Lois rarely orgasmed, even with herself. Getting off wasn't always a matter of earth-shaking sex, but of being in the mood—and Lois felt that she wasn't.

The memory of Blaze's cock pounding away at her cunny intruded on the reporter's thoughts as she laid down to sleep. Lois tried to ignore it, knowing it was the typical surge of activity that came before unconsciousness took her.

That night, like every night for the last few weeks, Lois did not dream of Superman.

Friday night, and Lois looked at herself in the mirror. The skirt was too short, the heels too high, but they showed off her legs. The wonderbra gave her small breasts at least the illusion of cleavage, and the low-cut blouse showed off what little she had for good advantage. Carefully, Lois put on the black lipstick that matched her jacket and shoes.

"Just a drink," she told herself. "Get out a bit. I need to relax. Not alone, just go out and be around people."

At the club, the music pounded so loud that Lois could feel it in her chest. She felt ridiculous, all alone at the bar, having downed the first grey cocktail too quick and nursing the second. Looking around at the meat market, and feeling the eyes on her. It would only be a matter of time before someone approached her, and Lois wasn't sure what she was going to say...

A hand slipped under her skirt, between her legs. Lois spun, face flushed...and stared into dark eyes and a Mona Lisa smile.

Bent over the desk in Blaze's office, the skirt pushed around her hips, panties bunched around her knees. Lois held onto the edges with a white-knuckled grip as the cock slid into her pussy over and over for what felt like forever. Grinding the reporter's clit against the edge of the desk. Lois Lane's eyes rolling up into her head, whole body tense and shaking and...

...in the afterglow, panting and sweaty and pleasantly exhausted, Lois felt the warm black trickle oozed out of her cunny. It was only then she realized the condoms, unopened, remained in her purse.

Maybe I should get an IUD, the reporter thought. Better safe than sorry.