Eat That Pussy Like Her Life Depends On It

Lois Lane was a very good reporter. She had learned when interviews went off course. When people couldn't help themselves. Had learned how to go with the flow. Meet people on their own terms. Sometimes the time for talk was over, and it was time for action.

Now, as Cheetah's tail whipped out and coiled around the reporter's neck, as the deadly villain mewled with need, and the heat radiated from her pulsing pussy, Lois Lane knew what she had to do.

The tip of the reporter's tongue touched the cat-woman's taint, just a fraction of a hairy inch that separated cunny and asshole. Lois slid her tongue upward, past the little V-shaped bottom of the slit. Heard Cheetah begin to pant. Her tongue slid into the hot, supple folds, and she tasted the strong sour juices, tangy like lemonade, with a curious flavor like sour milk.

Not too deeply. Just enough to let the sides of her tongue scrape Cheetah's folds. Lois moved upwards, in one long, slow drag...and then tongue and upper lit came down together on Cheetah's stiff little clit, which had come to peek out of its folds. The reporter sucked gently, and as the supple tail coiled tighterCheetah made an animal yowl and her pussy exploded.

Hot fluid gushed out of the fur-lined slit. Lois couldn't escape it, even if she wanted to. The pale, clear spray burst in her face, the cat-woman utterly out of control...and as the concentrated pheromones of Cheetah's squirt shot up the reporter's nostrils and into her open mouth, the reporter's brain experienced a brief, intense ecstasy...and then Lois Lane was like an animal herself, her mouth and tongue buried in the cunt as it convulsed. She lapped at it as a woman dying of thirst sucks at wet mud for moisture, and gulped it down greedily, even as the strong hands gripped the back of the reporter's skull to hold her in place, and the taloned toes curled and beat at the floor.

Cheetah hung back her head and yowled, and all around cats perked up their ears, nostrils open to catch the scent on the breeze, and then they began to move, to converge...

...and darkness and **** followed them, in silent leaps from rooftop to rooftop, with swords and daggers in hand.