Surprise!

Dozens of would-be attackers had originally surrounded Lois Lane, but Superman had heard her cries for help. Before they could even touch her, he had appeared seemingly from nowhere and pummeled the intended assailants.

BAM!

A left hook tossed one into the side of a brick wall, leaving a permanent indentation in the shape of Frank Schumer’s now rather flattened corpse.

POW!

An uppercut launched Carlos Pinchero into the stratosphere. Twenty years later, his body was discovered in one of the Apollo space missions as it orbited the Earth. Initially assumed to be an extraterrestrial being, his presence was explained when a reporter named Clark Kent wrote an expository article in the Daily Star that revealed how Superman had, quite literally, rocked Pinchero’s world.

WHAM!

The Man of Steel picked up George Santoro and tossed him into ten of the remaining assailants in the same way a bowling ball clears a lane. The superhero paused momentarily to initiate the world’s first fist pump, calling “Steeeeeeeerike!!! You’re OUTTA here!!!” Despite his superior abilities in numerous arenas, the Last Son of Krypton knew little of Earth’s sports and was not immune to using mixed metaphors.

Most of the remaining thugs scattered in every direction. One unfortunate soul was so panicked that he ran into a dumpster, knocking himself out cold. Superman chuckled in amusement.

And then there were 5. Each of the remaining assailants was armed, giving them some measure of courage against the seemingly invincible demigod standing before them. “Get lost, you alien creep,” one of the thugs rasped at the Metropolis Marvel in a voice that indicated he’d smoked a pack of unfiltered before noon. “She’s ours.”

Superman shook his head, clearly wondering whether they’d ever learn. He sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out in a hurricane-force wind. The five landed three blocks away, and it took them quite some time to recover their faculties. Brushing his hands together in a gesture of self-satisfaction, Supes chuckled under his breath, “Now that’s what I call a blow job.” He turned to the damsel recently rescued from distress and offered her his hand.

Lois had watched the scene unfold in breathless wonder. Her infatuation with the superhero had gone from crush to near-psychotic obsession in the few months she’d known him, and watching him manhandle those men so easily had given her quite the lady boner. As Superman stepped forward, his hand extended, she felt her panties dampen with anticipation.

“Where were you headed, Miss? I’m happy to take you there.”

His pretend act of not knowing her made the woman smile. She knew very well that he had feelings that mirrored her own. “I was actually headed home. I’d love to take you up on your offer.” The Man of Steel grinned with boyish enthusiasm. “Of course,” he stated in a deep voice. Picking her up, her arms wrapped around his neck, the Man of Tomorrow launched skyward, then turned his direction toward her loft apartment.

Moments later, they landed on the balcony, and Clark Kent gently set the slender woman down. One of Lois’s hands remained draped around his neck, and she brought her other up to clasp her hands around his neck. Superman felt her toy with his hair, wrapping his locks around her fingers as they locked eyes. “You should come in,” she whispered seductively, batting her lashes in a naturally flirtatious way.

Supes was used to being able to hear everything around him, including others’ heartbeats. He wasn’t as used to feeling his own. His blood pressure rose as lust filled him, and he felt the skintight suit begin to expand in his nether regions. “Of course,” he whispered in a low, husky tone. Lois unclasped her hands, letting them run slowly down his shoulders to his chest, then dropping them further as she explored his toned abs. Her fingers continued their exploration, reaching the middle of his stomach, then drifting lower; with every inch, she admired his firm, muscular body. Their eyes met, and the woman unconsciously bit her lower lip. She stopped just below his beltline, and the Man of Steel felt one part of his body harden to tungsten in response.

“Come with me,” she said, then grabbed one of his hands and led him through the balcony door into her living room. The man lustfully ogled her tight ass, so perfectly accentuated in that form-fitting skirt. Without thinking, he activated his x-ray vision, watching her figure sway as she sauntered to her room. The brown lacy panties and bra that she wore matched her brunette locks perfectly, and he salivated at the thought of fully exploring her body.

When they reached her bedroom, Lois stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to face him. Her eyes inflamed with desire, she spoke in a firm, commanding tone. “Take me, Clark, and don’t hold back.”

The superhero stepped forward and placed his hands on her trim waist, pulling her toward him. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile, then leaned forward to meet her lips with his own. Their kiss openly communicated how they felt about each other, each motion demanding more, as if their desire could be quenched by making out alone. The Last Son of Krypton slid his hands higher, centering them on the line of buttons clasping her blouse. With one pull, he ripped her shirt apart, shredding both the front and back of the garment in two, then tossed them on the floor.

Their lips had never parted, and Lois smiled against his as she felt her upper body suddenly stripped except for her bra. The cool air rushed across her skin, raising it in erotic anticipation. Her partner’s hands returned to her body, immediately moving toward her skirt. His fingers dipped inside her waistband and hesitated for just a moment before pulling outward, ripping it in half as he had done her shirt. This time, he raised the two halves out to the side, lifting them at shoulder height as if they were trophies while grinning into the kiss.

Lois was wet before, but now, she was soaked. The Metropolis Marvel dropped the shards of cloth, then cupped his hands under her ass cheeks and lifted her toward him. The woman wrapped her legs around his firm body, flexing her thighs to draw them together as close as possible. The heat emanating from his body caused her clit to throb with an intensity she’d never felt. She grabbed the hair at the back of his head viciously, using it as leverage as she thrust her hips forward, rubbing up and down his abs. Superman was so well-formed that she felt every ridge of his 8-pack, and within sixty seconds, she was almost ready to cum.

Despite his inexperience as a virgin, the Man of Tomorrow was intimately acquainted with the signals that human bodies emitted. He sensed her pheromones reach peak levels, Lois’s breathing quickened as she lay her face cheek to cheek with his, and the woman’s thrusting reached an almost frantic pace. He placed one hand on the small of her back, pulling her even more tightly to his body. The other wrapped in her hair and pulled downward, forcing her body lower and closer. That was the final push, and Lois gushed as she squirted all over him. He lifted and pushed her downward, prolonging her orgasm as the woman’s clit slipped against his rock-hard abs.

Lois had never experienced an orgasm like this. The months of anticipation, the erotic display of raw power in the alleyway, the impassioned kisses, how he had ripped her clothes from her body without breaking a sweat, all of these had heightened her horniness to a new peak. Sensuality rose within her to unprecedented levels, pulsing with each breath; again and again, she thought the tsunami of pleasure had peaked. Each time, she was wrong. Superman’s lover had no idea what he was doing to her; in truth, he couldn’t describe it himself. Krypton’s people were physically superior to Earth’s in every way, and apparently, that extended well into the bedroom. His control over her experience was complete.

Finally, he allowed her to come down. The woman collapsed against him, exhausted. Her legs relaxed, and she was held aloft only by the strength of his right arm, now supporting her thighs and ass. The Man of Steel rocked her gently, caressing her skin with his left hand as it drifted across her back, her neck, and her arms.

His lover nearly fell asleep, so complete was her relaxation. The orgasm had ended perfectly, and she felt she’d descended on a cloud into a state of pure bliss. However, she wasn’t done with him yet. Desire, sharpened by countless nights where she had fingered herself, aching to feel the thrusting of his cock, would not be left unfulfilled. She pulled herself from the overwhelming sense of euphoria that filled her, then looked deeply into his eyes. “Now, fuck me.”

Supes grinned, his anticipation evident in every line of his chiseled features. “Yes, ma’am,” he said again. The Man of Steel’s hands shifted so one was beneath her ass and the other was planted on her chest. He tossed her onto the bed, and she pulled herself back to a seated position against the headboard. “Strip,” she ordered, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

The superhero’s skintight suit was apparently comprised of two pieces, and she gasped as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it and the cape aside. Clark’s body was every inch that of a god: muscled, veined, and as defined as if he’d been sculpted from granite. “You have been drinking your milk in Smallville, I see!” Her flirtatious remark dripped with an undertone of desire. The man winked at her, momentarily posing with his hands on his hips. He continued the corny flirtation. “Fresh off the farm!” came the enthusiastic remark.

Lois smirked at him. “I’m a city woman, Kent… a bit inexperienced with farmhands. Especially farmhands that can lift trucks. So be gentle, okay?” As she uttered the last words, she winked, obviously communicating that “gentle” was a relative term. “Of course, Lois,” Supes rejoined.

The Last Son of Krypton hooked his thumbs inside his pants and bent over, pulling them to his ankles. Stepping out of them as he rose, he again proudly posed in a way that accentuated his muscular physique. Clark was expecting to see an expression drenched with lust, and was confused to see Lois’s face twisted in horror. Her focus had inched up his body as he rose, naked: first his calves, then his thighs. Finally, with an eagerness sharpened by months of desire, the woman lustfully gazed at his cock. What she found was not what she expected.

Her arm shot up, finger outraised to point accusingly at his crotch. “W-W-W-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?!?!?!” The woman’s tone reached a near fever pitch. Clark was confused, and his answer came in the form of a query. “Um… my penis? Why?”

Lois quickly replied: “WHY??? IT HAS PINCERS! WHY DOES IT HAVE PINCERS!?!?!?” There were many advantages of Clark’s human parents insisting he never participate in sports, but one experience he missed out on was the locker room. This is rarely considered to be an advantage, but in light of the current situation, it would have provided a bit of a heads up about the scenario that was now unfolding. The virgin superhero hesitated, unsure of his own inexperience as he spoke. “To… grab onto you?”

To say that the night had taken a turn for the worse would be to understate the situation drastically. All sensuality and eroticism vanished from the room, and Lois rolled to her side. She reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out a rather impressive dildo. The woman turned toward Clark and shook it at him in what would have otherwise been a rather hilarious display of fit throwing. “THIS IS WHAT A DICK IS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE, OKAY???” The Kryptonian reached forward, gingerly taking the molded impression of a well-hung human phallus in his hands. “Oh,” was all he said.

The awkward silence hung in the air, so thickly one would have choked on it by drawing too deep of a breath. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Clark glanced up from the dick he was holding and looked at his intended partner. “So… um… no sexy time?”

As is often the case with women, Lois’s frustration had only increased with the silence. Now, it erupted via her voice. “NO, THERE WILL BE NO GODDAMNED ‘SEXY TIME’!!!” Her hands raised mockingly in heavy air quotes surrounding the last two words. “I’M NOT LETTING YOU SHOVE SOME MOTHERFUCKING PINCERS UP MY HOO-HA!!” Taken aback by the entire situation, the Man of Tomorrow wisely deduced that now was not the time to further extend his sexual body of knowledge by asking what a “hoo-ha” was, and that tomorrow (or a few tomorrows from now) would likely be more appropriate.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Arguably the most powerful superhero of all time had been reduced to shambles of embarrassment by the situation. He took full advantage of his supernatural speed, dressed in less time than it took Lois to blink once, then waved goodbye. The gust of wind that followed his exit nearly pulled Lois off the bed.

In the hour that followed, the woman calmed down substantially. She realized that, although her reaction was completely understandable by any human standard, she had overreacted within the context of their relationship. Her lover’s expression of shame haunted her, and she tossed and turned that night, unable to rest for any significant period of time. Lois resolved to make the situation right when she saw him the following day, and that decision finally allowed her a few hours’ rest.

When she awoke, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and every clue pointed toward it being the perfect day for reconciliation. She quickly dressed in a new business suit, then traversed the few blocks to work in record time. As she walked, she noticed that something felt different, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The flow of traffic was unlike it had been in the preceding days; a unique clientele populated the coffee shops and cafes, and everything felt… slower, somehow.

When she arrived at the Daily Star, the security guard at the front wasn’t who she expected. She approached him in a driven manner, determined to get some answers. “Where is Carl?” she practically demanded. The man was a bit taken aback by her direct approach. “Umm, he’s off for the day.” This made no sense to Lois.

“Why?” the woman queried again.

“Because it’s Saturday? He’s normally off?” In the short space between interpreting the man’s tone, body language, and facial expressions and actually grasping the meaning of his words, the results-driven journalist realized that her demeanor apparently threw men so far off guard that they questioned even the facts they knew to be gospel truth. She’d have to work on toning that down a bit.

Then, the words sunk in.

“Wait… what?” It was her turn to be unsure. “It’s the weekend?”

“Yes, today is Saturday,” the security guard repeated, suddenly doubting the mental faculties of the paper’s star reporter. “Yesterday was Friday,” he further explained, as if to a child, ensuring that there was absolutely no confusion as to their current relation to the calendar. “The day before that…”

“Yes, okay, I get it,” the woman waved her hand in frustration and turned back toward the front door. It was the weekend. She wouldn’t see Clark for two days.

A few hesitating steps reflected her indecision about how to handle the situation. However, within moments, the resolve of her previous decision asserted itself. Lois’s pace quickened, barely slowing as she walked out the front door and toward the street. Hand raised, the woman hailed a cab and gave the driver Clark’s address. With weekend traffic, it took nearly twenty minutes to travel the distance; every moment that passed chipped away at the woman’s preconceived notion of how the morning would go. When they finally arrived, she threw cash at the man in the front seat and practically ran up the stairs to Superman’s door.

Her first knocks were polite but insistent. When no answer came, they grew more desperate. No sound came from within, and Lois dug in her purse for the spare key he had given her. She fumbled with the lock, finally managing to open the door. It took only a few steps to view his entire apartment, and each forward motion increased the disappointment she felt as more of the space came into view. He was gone.

~

Chapter Two

~

The weekend passed at a torturously slow pace. Clark wasn’t answering his phone, and he hadn’t been home at all. No one had sighted Superman in Metropolis since Friday. Lois didn’t know what to make of these events; it was possible that the Last Son of Krypton was halfway across the globe fighting crime, combating some toothed alien vagina eating and maiming someone, but she had a sneaking suspicion that his absence was related to their Friday night encounter. Although she’d felt bad on Saturday morning, by the time Monday rolled around, she was firmly in the “I feel like I’m a horrible person” stage.

The woman went to work a half-hour early, but Clark’s desk sat empty. As the minutes rolled by, people walked in one by one and began their workweek. Monday morning rituals were in full swing: conversations droned by the coffee pot, coworkers stopped at other’s desks to chat about their weekends, numerous aspirin were popped by the younger crowd as they attempted to escape their hangovers from a weekend of drinking. By 10 AM, the office was a buzzing beehive of activity, and everyone had shown—except for the one person she wanted to see.

She was about to leave for lunch when her ears, subconsciously attuned to any sign of her would-be lover, heard a deep voice with a slight Midwestern accent greet Harvey Brzezinski, who sat closest to the elevator. At nearly the same speed as Supes had left her apartment, she leaped from her desk to stand in her doorway. There, down the hallway formed between cubicle dividers, the tall, muscular, spectacle-wearing hunk of pincer-possessing penis strolled toward his office chair, greeting those along the way in a friendly fashion. Just as he was about to turn into the space that bore his nameplate, he looked up, and their eyes met.

There was no awkward pause in his eyes, no hesitation in his demeanor. He simply smiled just as he’d done to everyone else, nodded his head in greeting, and said, “Hello, Lois.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and entered his cubicle.

The woman was torn. Should she walk up to him and start a conversation, pretending nothing had happened? Should she wait for him to come to her? For all of the thought she’d invested in the situation over the past 48 hours, nothing had prepared her for him acting… normal. Finally, she decided to say hello and gauge his reaction.

The hall had never seemed as long as it was during those next 22 steps. Her heart pounding, she peeked around the corner to see him sitting in his office chair, then attempted to casually lean against the cubicle divider.

She missed.

The brunette leaned into thin air, unintentionally avoiding the cloth-clad wall by inches. On her way down, she grasped frantically for anything to hold onto, managing only to grab the WWII-era drawing Clark’s neighbor had hung on his wall featuring a smiling soldier drinking from a stainless-steel canteen cup, overshadowed by the caption, “How ‘bout a nice big cup of shut the hell up?” In retrospect, those words would have been good advice. As her eyes took in the drop ceiling tiles above her while she lay on the floor, she earnestly wished she had just stayed in her office.

Her crash had caused quite the commotion, and heads stuck out of cubicle entrances like so many meerkats on the African savannah. Clark was by her side in a (human-speed version of a) flash, and he helped her to her feet. “Are you alright, Miss Lane?” he politely asked. “I’d be better if I could vanish,” she muttered under her breath. For a moment, the alter-ego of Superman briefly considered making her wish come true, but decided against it. Instead, he chose a more gallant action. Seemingly ignorant of all of the eyes staring at his companion, he loudly stated, “I shouldn’t have left that extension cord hanging out! I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!”

Seemingly satisfied with his simple explanation, heads retreated into their cubicles as quickly as they had popped out. The female reporter shot Clark a look of gratitude, entered his workspace, and sat at the lone, cheap chair sitting across from his standard-issue metal desk. “So, how was your weekend?” she queried in a rather meek fashion. The Kansas emigrant smiled as he tucked his tie to his chest with one hand, seating himself in the rotating chair he typically occupied.

“It was good. I swung by Gotham to visit a friend.” Lois’s thoughts instantly turned to Bruce Wayne, the bat-suit-wearing billionaire who had formerly been Superman’s nemesis. “Oh really? Did everything go well?”

His face spread in an easy smile. “It did! One of them managed to help me solve a bit of a personal problem I’ve had. Speaking of which, are you doing anything tonight?”

“NO!” Her response was a bit too enthusiastic, and she blushed.

Clark’s smile reflected the twinkle in his eye. “Perfect. Say I swing by your place around 6 PM?” He rose, signaling an end to the conversation. She stood in response to his nonverbal cue, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll be there!” the woman said, then (rather carefully) exited his cubicle and returned to her corner office.

To say she got much done for the rest of the day would be to overstate the situation. Despite the interest that her piece on a nuclear-waste-infected urban river typically initiated, much of her afternoon was spent working through the logistics of various sexual acts she could complete with a pincer-clad penis. Although her earnest desire to make it up to Clark was robust and undeniable, she also had to admit that allowing the equivalent of a set of crab claws in any personal orifice wasn’t a concept she was able to reconcile with. By the end of the day, she was no closer to a tangible solution than she had been at the start.

She exited her office a few minutes before 5 PM; as Lois walked by Clark’s desk, she noticed that he had already left for the day. Resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to pick up any clues as to how he was feeling, she walked the three blocks to her upscale apartment with thoughts and emotions in a jumble.

The loft was already clean, but she busied herself with making it spotless over the next hour. By the time her wall clock indicated it was five minutes to six, she had prepped her place and herself as much as possible and sat nervously on the sofa, awaiting the knock on the door. Punctual as always, a quick rap four minutes later signaled the start of the evening. Lois stood, nervously brushed the front of her skirt flat, walked to the door, and opened it.

There stood Clark Kent in a navy blue suit, a bouquet of roses in his left hand and a small paper sack in his right. She smiled, then stepped back and motioned him in. He entered, stopped, and turned in the foyer as she swung the door shut behind him. “These are for you,” he said, offering her the flowers. “And this,” he lifted the sack to eye level, tapping it mischievously, “is for me.”

The woman gratefully accepted the bundle of roses, then said, “Clark, before anything else, I want to say that I’m sorry for the way…” The man stepped forward, leaned down, and kissed her, interrupting the apology in the most chivalrous way possible. A bit taken aback and surprised by his response, Lois recovered quickly and returned the kiss with passion. After a moment, Clark stepped back. “There’s no need for that,” he said. “Take a seat.” The Metropolis Marvel motioned to the sofa.

The female reporter was growing used to things going entirely against her preconceived assumptions and followed his direction, seating herself on the edge of the cushion. Supes unrolled the top of the bag, reached in, and pulled out a flesh-colored object. He turned his back to her, and she watched in confused fascination as she heard his zipper lower. The man’s shoulders hunched and his head lowered as he worked with intense concentration. A few moments later, his posture straightened, and the man glanced back over his shoulder. “You ready?” he asked, the smile evident in his voice.

Responding in what had apparently become the new normal in their relationship, Lois’s statement ended with a question mark. “Yes?” came the answer.

Clark boyishly leaped, spinning in the air as he turned to face her. There, amidst an otherwise blue cloth background, hung his cock. The coloring was the same, but the difference was immediately evident. Instead of pincers, the Man of Steel’s rock-hard smaller head was now shaped like a typical circumcised human penis. She stared at it in confusion, then let her eyes drift upward to meet his grinning countenance. “What is that?” she asked.

With obvious pride, Krypton’s Last Son stated, “It’s called a Clawndom. Bruce made it for me.” Stepping closer, he explained its features. Constructed from a super-sensitive material, any sensation outside the supple sheath was transmitted through human-like nerve endings to his cock inside. The head folded his pincers inward, wrapping them neatly to form a normal dickhead. By the time he finished, the woman had fully accepted that this was happening and moved forward, kneeling before him and taking his cock softly in her hands. Clark shivered with the sensation, unwittingly verifying that the Clawndom performed as advertised.

A smile spread across Lois’s face, and she began to stroke his cock. He responded immediately, his stiff member raising upward as his excitement increased. Wondering how it would taste, she leaned forward and took his dick into her mouth. Surprisingly, the “Clawndom” (in her mind, heavy air quotes manifested as she slowly accepted the term) felt precisely like natural skin. For the briefest of moments, she marveled at Bruce Wayne’s technical skill, but her attention quickly returned to her partner.

Slowly at first, her head bobbed back and forth as she took him deep into her throat. Her tongue stroked the underside of his shaft, then explored the newly reformed head. Lois’s lips wrapped around his cock, and the degree to which they stretched informed her that this was among the largest she’d ever experienced. She felt her pussy respond in anticipation, moistening her panties as she continued sucking his hardened member.

Clark groaned in ecstasy; this was the first time another being had ever touched his alien tallywhacker, and the actual experience far exceeded his wildest expectation. He knew Lois was a master with the pen, but he chuckled silently at the thought that her written expressions must naturally flow from her skill with her tongue. The woman’s left hand took his cock and followed the motions of her mouth, caressing his shaft with a firmly erotic grip. The feel of manhood in the back of her throat had always excited her, and Lois placed her right hand on his tight ass and pulled him into her.

A few minutes later, she could tell that her partner was ready to cum. Withdrawing her mouth and hand, she looked up at him, wiping saliva from her lips with the back of her hand. “Not yet,” she stated with an impish grin. The woman rose, turned, and walked to her bedroom. She stripped as she went, casually tossing clothing to the right and left. By the time she reached the bed, she wore nothing but a pair of high heels. Kicking those off, she turned and reclined on the king-sized mattress, spreading her legs in invitation. Clark stared as she extended one hand over her pussy, then curled her index finger inward, beckoning him forward.

With the same speed he’d used in an exit a few days prior, Superman suddenly appeared before her, naked. He leaned forward, his muscular biceps contacting her thighs as he lifted her and pushed the woman back to the center of the bed. He climbed up, took his cock in one hand, and placed it at the entrance to her soaked lips. The man paused, looked into her eyes, and pressed forward.

Lois groaned in ecstasy as she felt him fill her. The man’s dick touched all of the right places, and he began thrusting and withdrawing in a slow, steady tempo. The woman reached around him, positioning her hands on his shoulder blades, and pulled him into her. As his pace increased, she raked her nails across his back, knowing that even the most intense attempt would fail to mark his skin in any way. He grinned, reached beneath her knees, then threw her legs onto his shoulders.

The superhero pushed deep inside of her, eliciting a nearly animalistic moan of eroticism. This time, instead of pulling back, the man stayed where he was. The next moment blew Lois’s mind as she experienced a hint of what Kryptonian sex must feel like. Instead of the rigid phallus that humans have, Clark had complete control of his cock. He flexed it inside of her, curling it upward to press hard against her g spot. The woman’s eyes and mouth flew upon with this unexpected sensation, and she stared at him in wordless pleasure as he explored her pussy in every direction. Reaching, pushing, pulling, twisting, the Man of Tomorrow gave her a taste of the joys her future sex life would hold as his hips remained motionless and his cock fucked her relentlessly.

Lois repeatedly came, each orgasm leading to the next as naturally as train cars follow the one before them. She thrashed beneath him, nonverbally expressing the uncontrollable pleasure he gave her. After her fifth ecstatic crest, the Man of Steel ceased all motion with his hardened member. His lover shivered as she drifted back down from her endorphin-infused high, then looked up at him. “Are you ready to cum, baby?” she whispered.

His lustful gaze answered her question without words. Supes pulled back until his dick almost slipped out of her, then rammed it forward. Lois screamed at the sensual fulfillment she experienced; his forceful thrusts pierced her repeatedly, stretching her fully but stopping shy of causing any pain. It was, in a word, perfect—the best fucking she’d ever received. One could expect little else from a man who exceeded every male member of the human species in all conceivable ways, even if this was his first time.

In less than a minute, Clark’s breathing intensified. Lois sensed what was coming, and she focused exclusively on him, wanting to observe every detail of his body as he orgasmed. The man’s pupils dilated, hands clenched on the bedspread to her sides, and his entire body began to shake as his cock pulsated inside of her. The woman gripped him intensely with her arms and her legs, wrapping herself around him in absolute intimacy. His pace slowed, then ceased, and she felt his weight settle on top of her as he relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss.

Their loving respite lasted only a moment before Bruce Wayne’s roguish personality manifested itself in the privacy of Lois’s bedroom. The billionaire had secretly programmed the Clawndom to respond to a male orgasm, and after a ten-second delay, in the absolute silence filled with only the echoes of the pair’s heavy breathing, a sound emitted from the sheath that had been Superman’s saving grace.

“I’mmmmm BATMAN!!!”

Their reactions were understandably apprehensive. Lois shoved the man off of her, desperate to get whatever was happening inside of her most intimate organ out immediately. Despite his lack of costume, her lover manifested his superhuman abilities and literally levitated off her, rising instantly to the ceiling. As she stared up at him, she saw the bat sign flashing on the tip of his faux dick as her ears detected the sound of “duna dunnanuna dunnanuna dunnanuna BATMAN!!”

The Metropolis Marvel felt his face turn crimson. “I’m… going… to… kill… him…” he muttered through clenched teeth as he ripped the Clawndom off and threw it to the side. Lois overcame her momentary horror, then shock, and finally settled into a fit of laughter at the absurdity of it all. Clark watched her from above, the natural seriousness of a just-deflowered virgin slowly transitioning into a smile, then a grin, and culminating in a chuckle. He floated back down to the mattress, then pulled her to him as they cuddled.

The two talked and laughed long into the night, interspersed by several rounds of lovemaking. Much to her enjoyment, Superman filled her in on the events of his weekend. He’d confessed his issue to Bruce Wayne and experienced a half hour of mockery as the egotistical billionaire bragged about his prowess with his own allegedly sizeable penis. He forgot that Clark had x-ray vision, and Krypton’s Last Son told Lois how the Dark Knight was rather less impressive than the braggadocios claims he made. “Alfred, on the other hand…” Superman silently spread his hands apart, indicating that the humble butler was hung like a small horse. The thought of her partner spending his weekend using see-through abilities to inspect dicks was too much for Lois, and she laughed until she cried at his stories.

Clark discovered that he could silence the obnoxious sounds of the Clawndom by emitting a high-pitched frequency, silent to human ears, but sufficient to muffle the insufferable theme song completely. This allowed them to resume their sexual explorations without further disruptions. After their fourth round, even the superhero was exhausted.

Supes pulled the sheets over them as his lover nestled against him, her back to his chest. Before they fell asleep, Clark couldn’t resist a small practical joke of his own. Although the pincers of his natural member retracted when he was soft, Lois was still getting acquainted with Kryptonian cock behavior and didn’t know what to expect. The man reached beneath the sheets and, with two fingers, pinched her ass.

Although the rest of the details of the night were omitted, the woman’s reaction was one that Superman would later relate to Barry Allen after the next time the two men raced. The Metropolis Marvel looked over at The Flash at the finish line and said, “Let me tell you what. As quick as you are, you’re no match for how fast Lois moves when you pinch her butt.”

With a chuckle, but without further explanation or context, Superman flew away, leaving Barry to wonder what the hell that was all about.