Knocking on Starfire

He emptied his balls last night. That much, Mera made certain of.

At least until he was given a call from Starfire. His supposedly empty balls were refilled by her voice and the prospect of seeing her again.

The familiar cardboard box felt flimsy in his hands. He adjusted his grip, the warm aroma of garlic and cheese doing little to calm his nerves. He’d made this delivery several times now, but the destination never failed to send a jolt of pure, undiluted adrenaline straight to his balls.

‘Right before getting out of my car, I jerked off and blew a load. Just in case. Don’t want to get a boner in front of her.’

Poor pizza guy. His biggest struggles these days were meeting hot, naked aliens and trying not to bust at the sight of them.

He knocked on the high-tech reinforced door.

Because yeah, it just got reinforced. Weird. Super weird. Then again, this wasn’t the first time he had knocked on a steel door. There was this one paranoid dude that was paranoid of the Joker gassing him. Gotham City was like that.

The door hissed open instantly, and there she was. ‘Fuuuck.’

Starfire, in all her orange-skinned, emerald-eyed glory, stood completely, blissfully naked. A brilliant, welcoming smile was on her face, but his brain couldn’t process it, not when it was so utterly short-circuited by the breathtaking vision of her body. Her long, fiery hair cascaded over her shoulders, brushing against the lush, heavy swell of her fucking enormous breasts. They were perfect, full orbs with dusky pink nipples that peaked in the cool air of the hallway. His eyes, against his will, dragged downward, tracing the sleek muscles of her flat stomach, the gentle curve of her hips, and the entirely exposed, intimate slit of her pussy clearly visible, and she didn’t so much as twitch to cover herself.

“Ohh, you’re here!” Starfire chirped, her voice a melodic joy. “You are precisely on time!”

Before he could mumble a response, she surged forward and wrapped him in a powerful, crushing hug. The pizza box was squashed between them, but he barely felt it. His face was buried in the impossibly soft, warm valley of her cleavage.

“Mmmph.”

His entire body went rigid.

Starfire released him with a giggle. “Please, enter! The money is inside!”

He stumbled across the threshold into the hallway, his feet moving on autopilot. This was place was otherwise a normal apartment in Gotham. His balls were a roaring static of oh my god oh my god oh my god. Just as he was trying to form a coherent thought, a door down the hall opened.

Steam billowed out first, followed by Raven.

The emo goth chick was nude, a dark towel clutched in her hands but doing nothing to cover herself. Droplets of water glistened on her pale, almost porcelain skin, tracing paths down her slender frame. Her small, pert breasts, tipped with tight, dark nipples, were exposed to the cool air. His gaze, wide and horrified at his own inability to look away, dipped lower, past her narrow waist, and he could see the delicate, pale slit of her pussy lips, clean-shaven and utterly ****.

“Huh?”

This was an apartment she shared with another woman. Not wearing bras, not wearing clothes, it was natural.

So when Raven looked over and saw a living, breathing male here, her grey eyes widened. She made a mistake.

‘Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.’

A deep, crimson blush instantly flooded her chest, neck, and face. Raven made a small, choked sound in her throat and took a sharp step back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The loud thud echoed in the sudden silence.

Starfire just laughed, a bright, tinkling sound. “Do not mind Raven! She’s shy! I suppose humans are like that.” She shook her head. “I don’t really get it. On Tamaran, the form is a thing of beauty to be celebrated, not hidden away!”

They kept walking. The pizza guy kept following until they were in the living room. He kept his head down and just followed her to the kitchen. When he looked up he finally found his voice, a dry croak. “Y-yeah. Uhm.” That’ll be…”

Twenty-four fifty was the amount.

Thing was, he was desperately trying to look anywhere but at the naked alien princess standing a foot away from him, which is why his eyes landed on the other occupant of the apartment. He was in the kitchen, which was openly connected to the living room. And who in there near the couches and TV? A stunning Black woman with dark brown hair styled in cute twin buns and honey-blonde highlights. She had not noticed the pizza man until now. Really, it was a fascinating coincidence that neither noticed the other until this very second.

“Oh.” The black woman was wearing a tiny, high-cut yellow bikini bottom that hugged her curvaceous hips and a matching top that struggled to contain her impressive chest.

The pizza guy didn’t didn’t know it but this was Karen Breecher AKA Bumblebee.

Karen blinked her large, surprised eyes at him.

“Oh! Uh, hello,” Karen said, her voice upbeat but slightly flustered. She quickly finished tying the top behind her back. It seemed that the TV had been used to toss over bikinis. Were they…trying new bikinis?

‘G-guess it’s girl night or something,’ he thought.

“Hi,” he managed to grunt, fumbling for the receipt printer on his belt, his eyes magnetically snapping back to Starfire’s bare breasts. He needed to get his money and get the hell out before the massive, sleeping giant in his pants decided to wake up and announce itself.

“Karen and I were deciding on the perfect attire for my date with Dick this evening!” Starfire announced, completely oblivious to his internal crisis. She gestured to a pile of fabric on the couch and floor. “You have perfect timing! A male perspective is just what I require.”

“Oh, I really don’t think—” the pizza guy started, but Starfire hopped over the kitchen counter and was already holding up two minuscule bundles of fabric.

“Which one speaks to you, dear?” Starfire asked him directly, holding one in each hand. “The violet, which is the color of my heritage?” It was a barely-there set of purple strings and two tiny triangles that wouldn’t cover a fraction of her areolas. “Or the crimson? I like the fire and power in it!”

The red one was marginally more substantial, a sheer mesh that promised to reveal more than it concealed.

The pizza guy stared, his mouth agape. The blood in his body was making a decisive, rapid migration south, and he could feel the familiar, dreaded tightening in his jeans.

‘No no no no—’

He pressed himself up against the kitchen counter to hide it. The throbbing pressure of his dick was building, an insistent, aching swell that threatened to strain against the denim.

“Uh,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “The… the red one?” He pointed a trembling finger at the mesh bikini.

“Come, come!” Starfire released the bikinis and walked over. She hooked an arm around his, boob pressed, and guided him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

How…how could he stop her? Why would he stop her?

When she released him, Starfire beamed and went back to the sofa. But then her glowing green eyes drifted downward to the very obvious, very large bulge now tenting the front of his pants. It was a fucking monster, already pushing nine inches flaccid and straining for more. The pizza guy was frozen, his entire face burning with a humiliation so complete he thought he might pass out.

Karen was shell-shocked. “W-wow…t-talk about…”

Talk about what? Talk about what? Oh god, this was bad! It wasn’t just one woman, it was two! W-would they get offended?

‘Am I going to get a complaint? Is this the end of my job!?’