Xxx Toons

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Lois slammed her apartment door with a frown and a snarl. Who did he think he was?! She was his *partner*, for god's sake. They were going to grab a bite to eat, after putting their story to bed. It'd been a tough piece to put together and they both deserved a bit of a break. Then, at the last minute, he mutters something about returning a video and bolts out the office door. She knew what was going on. She wasn't a prize-winning reporter for nothing. He probably had some sordid rendezvous with Cat. She'd been throwing herself at him, all month.

Lois stomped through the apartment, maintaining her self-righteous indignation. She stomped as far as the bedroom before she realised that what she wanted was to get comfortable and drown her sorrows in chocolate ice cream.

Not that she was sad, mind you. Oh, no. She didn't care *what* Clark did. Why should she? She got on just fine without him. Goddamn farm-boy rookie. He was lucky to have *her* as a partner.

With these thoughts seething in her mind, she began to unbutton her blouse, revealing a modest white bra, beneath. Unhooking the bra freed her two perfect breasts. Absently, she clinically massaged each breast, trying to relax them after their confinement.

Next off came the skirt, leaving Lois clad only in a brief pair of floral-print panties. She had other underwear. Skimpier. Lacier. One pair was even crotchless. (Bought on a dare during a girls night out, six months ago). But she never seemed to have occasion to wear them. When she did go out on dates, she was often torn about what to wear (including which panties), but usually decided that the guy (whoever he was) wasn't good enough and she didn't owe him *that* good a time.

The skirt and blouse (minus the bra) were replaced with comfortable trackpants and a sweatshirt.

More comfortably attired, she made her way to the kitchen for some well-deserved ice cream.

After all, she thought, resuming her earlier brooding, Clark couldn't help himself. He was only a man, she told herself, wandering into the living room to slouch on the sofa. He couldn't help it if he couldn't resist Cat "oh-what-a-loose-slut-and-doesn't-she-just-love-it" Grant! How *could* he resist Cat stretched out on his desk, wearing some skimpy red skirt, or rubbing herself up his body, near the coffee machine.

How *could* he, Lois thought, swallowing yet another scoop of chocolate ice cream. They were *supposed* to be partners.

Yep, only a man. Sure, he had those boyish, Kansas good looks. But that smug grin of his, like he always knew something she didn't.

Yes, she could do without Clark. She definitely preferred a real man, like Superman. A little taller than Clark, she was sure, with a more rugged, manly look to him. Especially when you look down, she giggled. That suit of his did nothing to hide is ample manhood. She wondered how she'd be able to get it out... There were no zippers on the costume that she could remember. She'd just have to unclip his belt and pull him out of the suit, altogether. She grinned.

Thought of Superman, *her* Superman, made Lois feel deliciously warm. She began gently tweaking and pinching her nipples through the sweatshirt, imagining it was Superman's hands and not her own stimulating her. After a furtive glance to check that the curtains were drawn, the sweatshirt was discarded altogether, leaving her breasts exposed to "Superman's" ministrations.

In her mind's eye, Superman's hands were replaced by his mouth, gently biting and teasing Lois's now-erect nipples as her hand worked it's way down into her panties. Slipping first one finger and then a second into her moist snatch, Lois pretended it was Superman, manhood revealed, spreading her legs and filling her with his firm cock.

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Swapping hands, Lois imagined Superman filling her with each thrust, forcing his cock in deeper, each time. She licked her juices off the other hand. Then, she lifted one breast to her mouth, licking and sucking at it, flicking the nipple with her tongue.

Realising that she needed more, she padded topless from the couch to the bedroom. From the bottom drawer, under the crotchless panties, she pulled a discrete six-inch silver vibrator. She was about to close the drawer when she thought to herself, "why not?". Removing her trackpants and conservative underwear, she stepped into the crotchless knickers, making sure her labia were exposed and accessible.

She paused to look at herself in the mirror. Firm, slender thighs. Moist pussy, framed by neatly trimmed pubic hair. A nice, slim figure and well-rounded breasts. Perfect breasts, she'd been told, on one occasion. Not bad, she thought, lying back on the bed. Her Superman loved every bit.

She lick the vibrator, imagining she was running her tongue up and down Superman's shaft. He'd moan as she slipped her lips over his cock, swirling her tongue around his cockhead.

Pulling the vibrator out of her mouth, she turned it on. She felt faint shivers as she pressed it against one nipple and then the other. She ran the silver vibrator between her breasts and down, teasing her nether lips with it, unimpeded by the black lace and red ribbon claiming to be underwear.

She slipped it into her yearning snatch, alternately pushing it deeper into herself and bringing it out to press directly against her reddened clit. Each thrust, every vibration increased her sexual frenzy. Her Superman was thrusting into her, pounding her, demanding that she be fulfilled. Waves of pleasure washed through her as she climaxed, moaning and biting down on her lip.

Flushed and sweating, Lois opened her eyes and grinned wryly. In a way, she was glad Superman *wasn't* there. She desperately wanted him, but she'd be hard-pressed to explain her solo antics to *anyone*.

With a self-satisfied sigh, she went to the bath room, for a nice, hot, bath.

* * *

High above Metropolis, Superman felt like a voyeur. On his way to Clark's apartment, he'd peeked into Lois's apartment with X-ray vision. He and Lois had had their fair share of close calls, and there had been times when trouble had found it's way into their own homes. So, for safety's sake, he usually glanced into Lois's apartment on his way past, never lingering, only wanting to make sure she was okay.

This time, however, he'd found her writhing on her bed, rubbing her breasts and pumping a small vibrator into her pussy. He knew he should look away, but he was fascinated, entranced, aroused. A part of him wanted to fly down and join her. She wanted Superman; he knew that. But she didn't seem attracted to Clark, and Clark was who he really was.

With a sigh, and great self-restraint, Superman looked away.

Maybe some day...