"Aw, Shit" thought Starr as she looked down on her man. Bobby was a young, tall, caramel colored steelworker with a face as handsome as a movie star's. Tonight, though, was drunk and had passed out on their California king sized bed. His drool dripped upon the pillow. His dick hung limply as a soggy dishrag. The TV across the room was still playing the fourth quarter of the Raiders game. They were losing, and as usual Bobby's last words were "After the game, Babe I promise."
She looked down at the fifth of Jemma Dean Brandy that they had shared. The blonde on the bottle smiled provocatively from the label. Her scant bikini barely covered her perky tits and tiny ass. Her emerald eyes sparkled as her blonde locks stood suspended in wind and time. Starr fumed. How many nights had this blonde bitch taken her man from her?
She stared at herself in the full length mirror on the closet door. Yes, she certainly wasn't miss Jemma. Her afro puffs would never fall to her shoulders. Her chestnut eyes would never twinkle. Her large brown breasts would never fit behind a string bikini. Even if they did, there was no thong that her thick ass wouldn't swallow. Hell, her shaved pussy probably stood out further than Jemma's pale ass ever would.
Starr spread her legs and squeezed her tight slit open. The pink inside made it look like a hungry open mouth. Those lips were just as full and kissable as the ones on her face. Her round eyes sloped slightly down towards her chin giving her a natural "fuck me" glance. The blue eye shadow she wore only enhanced her seductiveness. Her nose stood proud and wide as the queens of ancient Kemet.
Her pussy was just as royal. Her fingers probed her smooth velvet box and searched for the familiar ridge. She found it, low and shallow in her tight hole. A thick sheet of wetness rained down into her thick thighs and nails.
She closed her eyes and pressed harder. Her mind and body swept into a lusty fog.
She laid on the bed and turned off the TV. She struggled to hold on to that delicious feeling. She spread herself again accidentally kicking Bobby in the thigh. He muttered incoherently and rolled over on his side still asleep.
"Fuck him" she thought. "It's time to cum."
Starr quickly rediscovered her special ridge. The wetness flowed as she continued to stroke it with a cum hither motion. Her pussy glowed with warmth as she inched her finger higher. Her left hand grabbed her breast as if programmed to do so. Her thumb rolled around the nipple flicking it freely.
Her finger reached higher pressing the soft slippery button under her clit. Her hips bucked forward as she placed her thumb on top of her sexy mound.
A whimper left her mouth as her finger traveled to more sensuous ground. A second digit turned the whimpers into moans. The come hither motion turned to sharp stabs as she dreamed of the way Bobby used to tear her apart.
Her tiny fingers paled against his hard thick manhood, but they would do tonight. The warm kisses he once spattered on her neck. The way his rough hands used to grab her ass for dear life-- both were just a fond memory.
Starr's fingers slowed. The left hand left her breast.
"GODAMNIT!" She cursed.
She shook Bobby to try and wake him. His eyes popped open crazily.
"Bitch, I'm tired." he slurred.
He buried his head in her favorite silk pillow, grabbed what was left of the blanket, and fell asleep. His snores filled the bedroom.
Bobby sleeping was bad enough, but for Starr snoring was the ultimate turnoff. She grabbed the bottle of Jemma Dean and guzzled hard. Maybe she could drink enough to pass out her self- but had no luck. The bottle was now empty and his snores were still too loud.
Starr turned on the lamp on her nightstand. She walked towards the closet and realized that she was even sexier in the light. Her fine brown pillow ass curved a firm but feminine belly and those tits-- huge natural globes that caught many an eye.
The door was slightly open revealing a red evening dress. It was the kind that showed off her curves in all the right ways. It beckoned to be worn, so she reached out and ripped it from the hanger. She pulled it over her body and fastened the zipper from behind. It was sexy- even sexier without the bra and panties she normally wore.
Starr giggled as her nipples stuck through the fabric. She grabbed the matching five inch heels from the closet floor and strapped them to her feet.
She took another glance in the mirror and confirmed it- The queen had graduated to a sexual goddess. A fading stream of juice still clung to her thighs. She scooped it with her fingers and dabbed a little behind each ear. She grabbed her small red clutch and headed for the bedroom door.
She passed by the small kitchen and sparse living room. It was a tiny apartment and in a bad neighborhood, but at least it was clean and modern. Starr shrugged as she left the unit. It was time to get satisfied.
Sully's Tavern was a dark unassuming dive, one of many that littered the landscape of the small East Bay city. Donald sat at the bar alone sipping his fourth Stoli martini. His sales calls had all been busts and he was tired of rejection. Even the bartender had all but ignored him for the lure of late night medical soaps on a big screen TV. The liquor was helping, but didn't quite turn off his day. He couldn't even bring himself to loosen his tie.
Suddenly he heard the screech of tires in the outside lot. Donald turned toward the bar's grimy entrance. The bang of a slamming car door followed. He turned back to his drink. Whatever was going on outside shouldn't concern him. Donald wanted his world to be small as possible.
That all changed when Starr barreled inside.
He turned his head again. Yes, she sure was a looker, but with the day he was having.... forget it. He turned away. Better to keep drinking and sleep it off in the car. Somehow he didn't think the bartender would mind.
Starr tried to get the barkeep's attention, but the homely old hag was too glued to her stories to care.
"Excuse me, miss," she called.
The bartender finally noticed her. "I would like a shot of Jemma Dean, if it's not too much trouble."
The bartender sighed and rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bottle from the bottom shelf. She poured the shot. Starr downed it and slammed the glass to the counter.
"Another," she demanded. "This time make it a double. Then you can go back to your McDreamy show."
The bartender sneered and served her in a highball glass.
Starr took a long pull and sized up Donald. She noticed his sandy brown hair, deep blue eyes and mismatched pants and blazer. Classic bachelor apparel. Sexiest of all was that he was desperately trying to sneak secret glances of her.
No, he wasn't a dreamboat like her Bobby, but he'd do. She got up and sat down at the stool next to his.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
"Who cares?" He replied.
"Is this your spot?"
"It is tonight."
Donald drained the rest of his Martini. Starr turned to the bartender.
"Hey Missy" she growled. "My new friend is thirsty. Get him another martini, put it on my tab."
The bartender handed Donald his drink. Starr grabbed her brandy and raised the glass. Donald raised his in kind.
"A toast to better days" she declared.
"To better days" agreed Donald.
The glasses clinked. His modest sip contrasted her gulp.
Both braced themselves as the liquor burnt their throats and walloped their heads. Starr processed Donald from head to toe and back.
"Yunno, you kind of look like that singer." she mentioned
"Which one?" he asked.
"Does it matter? You're fucking hot. That's what matters"
Donald dared a full look at Starr. Naturally he noticed the pretty face, but most striking of all were the massive breasts she deliberately rested on the bar counter. He tried to play it off with a respectful glance back to her face, but it was no use. The hardened nipples called and his eyes answered.
Naturally Starr was well aware of what Donald's intentions were. He was just one of many men and women that gravitated towards her bosom. Sometimes it bothered her, but certainly not tonight.
