Lois Clark (née Lane) sipped her ice-cold Martini as she settled her sweat and cum-stained nude body into the chaise longue beside the pool on her penthouse’s rooftop terrace. Dipping
her finger into the puddle of Kryptonian cum trickling from her well-fucked cunt, she swirled a drop of warm cum into her drink and, in state of post-coital languor gazed appreciatively at the impressive naked figure of her husband as he stood, size 20 feet
planted well apart, leaning his hairy muscular forearms on the terrace railing, smoking an elegant Sobranie Black Russian cigarette and taking in the fabulous view of Metropolis.
She loved the way his broad darkly tanned back tapered into a vee at his waist only to swell into the out-thrust perfect globes of his ass, she was entranced by the way his huge furry scrotum and heavy balls swung, visible through the
inverted Vee of his hairy trunk-like legs, halfway down his thighs but most of all she lusted after the uncircumcised 18” log of flesh that, peeping out below his balls, was slowly dripping a mixture of semen and sweat onto the marble tiles at his feet.
“God Clark, but you are the best fuck on the planet!” she sighed, “I’m so glad you decided to use your super-powers to make enough money that we could take over the Planet and the
network. Living here is the best revenge isn’t it?”
Through the open door of the Great Room, the strains of Clarkmedia’s top music station could be heard softly playing innocuous background music.
Clark tossed his gold tipped cigarette butt over the railing and turned to face his wife, leaning an elbow on the balustrade and thrusting his hips and suddenly rigid prick towards
her. Lazily running a hand through the dense blue-black thatch covering his ridged eight-pack abdomen and up to tweak his taut nipples, he asked with a lascivious grin: “Ready for round thirty-five, or would you rather finish your drink first?”
Without waiting for her answer he strode forward, flipped her on her stomach and, planting himself between her knees, began to drive his rampant dick into her tight asshole: “Christ, Lois, do we have to listen to this fucking elevator music?
I thought we bought the station so we could hear whatever we liked?” At that moment the piece ended and a new, surprisingly upbeat instrumental began. “Well, that’s a hell of a lot better! Makes a man really wanta fuck his bitch!” Clark cried as he began
to match his pounding hips to the equally pounding rhythm of the song.
“Fuck yeah, lover!” Lois screamed, “Almost as beautiful as the music those seven gold rings piercing your ballsack make slapping against my pussy rings!” Levitating them both a few feet over the terrace, Clark pulled her body tight against his chest, grinding
his nipple rings into her back, at the same time squeezing her pierced tits mercilessly and nuzzling his full black beard into her neck. Floating out over the city, he lifted her off his cock, turned her to face him and slid his fleshy sword to the hilt in
her vaginal scabbard, then swooping and diving across the sunlit cityscape they treated the resigned citizenry to another spectacular display of aerial fucking, until with a mingled roar and scream they came together and sped back to their penthouse terrace.
“Great Rao! That was fun” said Clark as he tied his waist length hair back into a ponytail with a heavy gold ring, “But we have work to do.”
Slipping into his moulded red latex jockstrap and form-fitting royal blue leather chaps, he pulled on a pair of heavy scarlet motorcycle boots.
Lois, after tonguing his asshole, carefully arranged the matching blue leather harness across his shoulders and heavily thatched chest, cinching the waist straps tight so that the black and gold plaque bearing the stylized “S” in barbed wire, settled
firmly between his huge pecs, the crisscrossing straps neatly framing his beautiful maroon nipples with their heavy gold barbed wire rings.
Clipping the black latex cape to the shoulders of his harness, she thrust her pierced tongue deep into his sensuously full- lipped mouth for a hard kiss.
“Come on, Babe! Get into that fuckin' latex body suit, we got work to do!” he snarled, “I’ll bone ya good after the job.”
Lois yanked on her black latex suit, pulled her full breasts through the opening in the chest and zipped up the seams, while Clark wheeled the massive Harley out of the rooftop garage,
opened the gate in the balustrade, straddled the hog and kick-started it into roaring life.
“Get a fucking move on bitch,” he yelled, “I ain’t got all day!” She climbed on the pillion and, his hair and cape covering her, wrapped her arms around his waist, slipping her hands into his jockstrap and cupping his balls. Gunning the
bike, they drove off the rooftop and Clark guided the machine over the city, heading for the 1st Metropolis National Bank, just as a nude startled Jimmy Olsen stepped out onto the terrace, his 15" cock
jutting out of the copper jungle of his pubes, in anticipation of getting sloppy seconds with his "pal" Clark or, less exciting, Lois