Nope, no way

Starfire just blinked, her head tilting curiously. Then, a sweet, understanding smile spread across her lips. “Ah! I see your body agrees with your choice! That is a wonderful compliment where I am from!”

O-oh. Right. Alien culture.

‘Thank you Starfire…!’

Starfire giggled some more and leaned forward conspiratorially, her magnificent tits swaying. “And if I may be bold,” she giggled, a musical, filthy sound, “you are far bigger than my boyfriend! On my planet, seeing a more hung man can be a valid reason to break-up! Oh, but don’t expect me to break up with Dick! He may be smaller than you but I still love him.”

A beat of stunned silence hung in the air after Starfire’s comparison. The pizza guy’s face was on fire, his mind a frantic mess of arousal and sheer, unadulterated panic. Before he could formulate a single syllable of a response, Karen’s upbeat laughter cut through the tension.

“Well, damn, Kori! Don’t leave me out of the judging,” Karen said, her voice a smooth, playful melody. She snapped the band of her yellow bikini bottom against her hip with a quiet thwip. “If we’re getting a second opinion, I want one too. This little number is cute, but I’ve got a red one that’s just fire.”

Starfire clapped her hands together, her previous comment already forgotten in her excitement. “A superb idea, friend Karen! Our esteemed critic shall assist us both!” She gestured grandly to the pizza guy, who felt like a specimen under a microscope.

He watched, utterly paralyzed, as Karen strutted toward a gym bag, her hips swaying with a confident rhythm that made the tiny yellow triangles of her bikini seem even more precarious. The soft shush of a zipper was followed by the rustle of fabric. “Okay, eyes over here, judge,” Karen said, her tone teasing. “You’re on the clock.”

He **** his gaze upward, meeting her sparkling yellow-brown eyes. He wondered for a brief moment if she was a superhero too. But who?

His dick told him to pay attention again when she held up two minuscule bikinis. One was a deep crimson, barely-there lace. The other was a vibrant, shimmering black-gold that secretly matched her alias. “Red for passion,” Karen said, “or gold for a queen bee?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. His entire world had narrowed to the pounding, throbbing pressure in his jeans. It was a relentless, aching thump-thump-thump that pulsed in time with his hammering heart. He tried to think, to form a coherent word, but all cognitive function had been rerouted to the immense strain of his cock against denim.

He swallowed hard.

From the slightly ajar bathroom door, a single, glowing amethyst eye appeared in the crack. It was Raven. She was peeking, her curiosity overpowering her embarrassment. Her gaze didn’t travel to the bikinis, or to Karen’s confident smile, or even to Starfire’s radiant nudity. It shot straight down, laser-focused, to the impossible bulge tenting the pizza guy’s pants.

Raven's quiet gasp was like a gunshot to herself. "A-are you...is that thing...?"

Real, yes. But pizza guy didn’t notice. He was talking to Karen after all who kept giving him that look. The horny look. His cock gave another powerful, undeniable throb against his zipper.

“Oh?”

His throbbing cock was pointing to the red bikini.

Karen blinked, then let out a low, impressed whistle. “Well. The gold one it is.” She didn’t wait for verbal confirmation. The verdict had been delivered not by his words, but by the undeniable, throbbing reaction of his cock.

Karen turned, giving him a perfect view of her incredible ass as she shimmied out of the yellow bikini bottom. The shlick of the damp fabric sliding down her thighs was obscenely loud. He saw her bare pussy, the delicious swell of her hips, and her overall dark, beautiful skin. O-obviously, he could always see it but he was seeing her full black ass! He was seeing that which ordinary men could only dream of!

Bumblebee was a rather superheroine two steps below Starfire and Raven. If those two could be classified as B or A-lister, Bumblebee was a C-lister. She didn't have the strongest arch-nemesis, she was pretty, she had a nice, tight black ass, and she knew it. She knew her strengths. She knew she was a supporting heroine, and she was damn proud of it.

She wouldn't get upstaged by Starfire. She smirked and purposely smacked one hand on her left ass cheek to show him its shape. She tried to make seem casual. But really, both of them understood why she did it. It was for him. For that dick.

Karen stepped into the gold one, and the snap of the closure against her skin sounded like a starting pistol.

Starfire giggled, clapping once more. “A magnificent choice! I really like this one!”

“All thanks to our resident pizza boy." Karen winked at him.

Bumblebee and Starfire, too giddy and attractive women. Two women teasing him. One intentionally and one unintentionally. Karen was an incredible and pretty woman. But, sometimes, oblivious sluts did things that ordinary sluts could not.

Case in point: Starfire.

“Ooh, a tip! I have the money but…”

Starfire grinned. Before he could process what was happening, Starfire had gracefully—and with shocking strength—pushed him onto the plush couch behind him.

“T-tip?” he squeaked, his voice an octave too high.

“But of course!” Starfire chimed. “I have been wanting to practice a tradition of my own planet! A dance! I believe on Earth, you call it a ‘lap dance’.”

Yes, this oblivious superheroine was going to give a man that was not her boyfriend a lap dance.

‘H-h-huuuuh!?’

“Actually, I wish to perform it for my Richard for a date tonight. But, admittedly, I am slightly out of practice. I’d like your help for it, if you don’t mind!”

His brain short-circuited. ‘Lap dance. Practice. Starfire. Naked. On my lap. My cock.’

Starfire tilted her head. “Is that a yes?”

“Y-y-yes.”

The mere thought sent another seismic shockwave through his groin. He felt his erection twitch violently, straining the seam of his jeans to its absolute limit. God, he was going to cum at this rate…!

“W-where… where are you planning to do this for him?” he managed to ask, desperately seeking any thread of normal conversation.

“There is a most intriguing establishment in the city! The themes change every month. This month is ‘Intergalactic Fantasy’! It is perfect for me!” she explained cheerfully, as if discussing the weather. She began to move and her bare pussy grazed his erection. Touching it, poking into it, making a huge wet, spot appear from throbbing pre-cum. “Richard thinks it is a great custom and I agree!”

Her pussy, her direct pussy, went along his cock. From base to tip, she dragged her pussy, showing it to him. She made more pre-cum leak. More of a stain to appear. All the pizza guy could do was sit on the couch and be mesmerized.

It was her boobs. It was her face. It was her personality. Without one or the other, this couldn’t be Starfire. This couldn’t be HER lap dance.

“In my culture,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky, melodic purr that vibrated through his very soul, “such a reaction is not shameful. It is a gift. A compliment of the highest order.” She rotated her hips in a slow, circular motion, the air swishing around his dick. No more contact. She then stopped and leaned in. Her full, heavy breasts swayed hypnotically just inches from his face. “It tells a woman she is seen. Desired. That her beauty has truly landed.”

She finally, finally, lowered herself. Not fully, but just enough for the incredible softness of her inner thighs to make contact with the sides of his rock-hard bulge. The contact, even through two layers of clothing, was electric. A jolting zap of pure sensation shot straight up his balls.

Fuck. Fucking hell.

Starfire giggled, a sweet, innocent sound that was completely at odds with the utterly debauched situation. “And I must say again,” she whispered, leaning in so her warm breath tickled his ear, her nipple accidentally—or purposefully—brushing his cheek, “you really are much bigger than my boyfriend. This is truly excellent practice.”