From Famine to Feast

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18.

From Famine to Feast

Does losing one's virginity at twenty-two seem late to you? It did to me too. I wasn't a bad-looking guy. I was told I was "cute" pretty often. Not "hot" or "handsome" but, "cute". I really learned to hate that fucking word. I was the nice safe guy that girls wanted to be pals with. I was firmly entrenched in what would later be called "the friend zone" all through school and into college. And I fucking hated it. But when you're in the friend zone, it's hard, you know? It's hard to give up on the idea that eventually one of them would see you for who you are and appreciate it. Because to you it makes sense that it should happen. But I found out that women in general, just don't always make sense.

In my second year at community college, I met a girl named Tina. I won't bother you with the year, but let's just say the world had become a lot less hungry like the wolf, and things had started smelling more like teen spirit. Tina was the daughter of one of my parent's nearby neighbors, and she did want to get nasty with me, but as my luck would have it, she wanted to save her virginity for her future husband. So, it was entirely oral sex and hand jobs. We didn't date or anything, we just hung out at her daddy's house and got each other off. That was all she was looking for. A way to get her rocks off without it impacting her reputation. She'd been in the elite social circle in school, and I guess I wasn't dating material in her eyes. It was a bit of a shot to the ego, but no real loss I suppose. I didn't care much for her either. She was vapid, vain, and uninteresting. But she was hot and did suck cock pretty well if I'm any judge, and some sex is better than none.

***

At the age of twenty-two, I was in the middle of an existential crisis. I'd recently quit college, got a job, and moved out to my own place, with absolutely no idea what I wanted to do in life. At that age, that can be a little scary. I found a little studio apartment that I could barely afford.

I got a job as a security guard, for a big, well-known security company. I made enough to meet my needs, plus a little beer money. At first, they had me filling in wherever they needed a warm body, but eventually, I ended up with a permanent post. The Bayshore Heights Condominiums. On second shift, 2 pm to 10 pm, Sunday through Thursday.

The Heights was an old building dating back to the 1920s. Ten floors, ninety units. Balconies, a pool, and a hot tub. With scenic views overlooking the bay. If you're thinking that ten stories tall isn't very for a place called the Heights, you'd be right, but it must have been in 1924. A well-thought-of Italian eatery called Geno's occupied half of the first floor.

The cost of buying a condo in that building was somewhere in the middle, I figured, based on my study of the folks living there. That was all there was to do there. People paying for security take a dim view of a guard camped out at the front desk with a paperback. We could occasionally get away with a crossword puzzle in the wee hours of the night.

Our tenants were about half retirees and half yuppies. We don't really seem to use that term anymore, do we? It was slang for "young urban professional". They were generally college-educated, twenty-six to thirty-eight-year-old office dwellers of some sort. All of them sporting mall-bought clothing, and the expensive sedans that typically denoted a yuppie. You couldn't swing a cat by the tail without hitting a BMW in the parking lot.

Most of our security issues were noise complaints and car stereo thieves. Back then people were stupid enough to put a huge sticker on the top of their windshield bragging about what stereo system they had. Then they were shocked when the thieves would target them over and over. It doesn't always pay to advertise.

Aside from watching the tenants as they walked past me, and occasionally passing the time of day with them, the only other thing I had to occupy time with was talking with the second guard on shift. One of us sat at the desk at the front door and the other patrolled the parking lot. We switched off every hour. Between rounds, we'd come inside and chat for a few minutes. My partner was Cleo, a beautiful black woman, originally from Philadelphia. She was somewhere in her mid to late forties as I recall. And my goodness, she was yummy.

Twice divorced, she was an empty-nest single mom. She had beautiful dark skin the color of coffee with just a hint of cream. She was hippy and busty with an hourglass figure, that I had a hard time not staring at. And that butt. My God. When Sir Mix-a-Lot wrote that famous song soon after, it was Cleo he was dreaming of.

All of that, I could have resisted and maintained my professional decorum. But her vivacious personality made that quite impossible. She knew she was attractive and sexy, and it oozed out of every pore in her body, and her mouth especially. The way she talked, would be very frowned upon today where sexual harassment is to be guarded against at all costs.

She was a tease, and nearly every conversation usually ended up mentioning sex in some way. Or she'd just straight up ask me if I'd found a pretty young thing to fuck. She always knew the answer, so I never justified it with an answer. I'd just grumble and walk back out for a round in the parking lot, while she giggled her ass off.

After about four months of working together, and we'd gotten to know one another well, she got even more raunchy. She'd often comment on how she hadn't gotten any dick in some time and was going to have to go home and fuck her vibrator. The first time she mentioned it, my brain shorted out. I went home and masturbated to that mental image until I was chafed.

After about the third time she mentioned it, I finally got the balls to offer my services in that regard. She looked at me in shock.

"You? Humph. College boy, there's no way you could handle a woman like me." She opened her arms to indicate her amazing body. "This is just too much woman for a young fella like you, Brett." She leaned in and her voice took on a low growl. "I'd wear you out."

Once again, that night I stroked it until my arm cramped. The idea of being between those thick thighs would make me hard in an instant.

But I'd continue to make the offer every time she mentioned it, each time with more confidence and conviction. And each time she mentioned that she'd wear me out, I'd mention what good shape I was in. I was an avid cyclist. Trying to save money, I'd often cycle the ten miles to work on days when rain wasn't in the forecast, plus I'd do organized bike tours throughout the Bay area. I was also a rabid outdoor three-wall racquetballer on my nights off. That indoor four-wall shit is for pussies.

I had an outstanding Trek touring bike that had served me well for years. I'd come into the building in my cycling shorts and a tank top, clean up in the small restroom that we were allowed to use, and put my uniform on. I'd occasionally catch her staring as I went by, so sometimes I'd just stop and chat for a minute before changing. I'd just stand there and talk about the weather or whatever, in my Lycra shorts with my body covered in a sheen of sweat. I wasn't a huge physical specimen, but at that time, I was in the best shape of my life. Five foot, nine inches with brown hair and eyes, lean, toned, and tanned.

After months of teasing and eyeing one another, it all changed. Cleo became quiet and wasn't her usual raunchy self. I thought maybe she wasn't feeling well or there was trouble in her family. She had two grown children. A son who was serving in the Marine Corps, and a daughter who was studying at the University of Georgia on a full-ride scholarship. She was very proud of them both.

In any case, I didn't pry. I figured she'd talk to me about it if she wanted. In hindsight, I think she was making a decision.

***

Tuesday night, after we'd been relieved at ten o'clock, we walked together to our cars that were parked in the spots reserved for security. We stepped between the cars together and opened our car doors.

"Well, I guess I'll go home and wear out my vibrator again." I heard her say, without much enthusiasm.

I didn't turn, figuring I'd get shot down again. "Or you could come back to my place," I suggested.

She didn't reply immediately, and I heard her feet on the pavement as she turned. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I turned to see a thoughtful look on her face. I smiled. "Yes, my Queen."

"Yes, my Queen," was a joking reference to her royal name, Cleopatra, which had been given to her by her Egyptian mother. As she had a higher rank than me in the company, she was my superior. So occasionally when she'd ask me to do something, I'd reply with "Yes, my Queen". She always smiled brightly when I did.

I met her eyes over the space between us. Her expression didn't change, but a shiver rolled through her body. "I'll follow you," she said in a low voice. Then she got in her car, leaving me a bit stunned.

I've no memory of the ride home. I'm sure my mind was a whirlwind, wondering if it was finally going to happen. And with such an exquisite woman?

***

I led her into my humble two-room studio apartment. I'd never seen her so nervous. I flipped on the lights. "How about a beer?" I asked.

"Oh God yes," she replied with a small laugh.

I grabbed a couple of long necks from my fridge and popped the tops on both before handing her one. We both sat on my sofa, which aside from my dinette chairs, was all we had to sit on.

We drank in silence for a minute or two, both of us too tense for words. "So, which of us is more nervous do you figure?" I asked.

She looked at me and laughed, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm betting on me. I've never done anything like this before."

Gathering up all my nerve, I set my beer down, turned, and pulled her face gently toward mine. Her eyes got wide and then softened as we kissed. When I pulled back her face was unreadable. "You know, umm ... if we're just gonna screw, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to," she said uncertainly.

I sat back and looked at her, surprised. "I'd never screw someone that I didn't want to kiss. And I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

Cleo sighed and smiled. "Wait a second." She set her drink down and got up, heading into my bathroom. She came out with her lipstick removed. She giggled. "That stuff's not made for kissing, just looking good."

She came to stand before me, leaned over and placed her hands on my thighs, and came in for another kiss. We held it for a long time.

"Is that the bed?" she asked, nodding toward the wall that the Murphy bed was folded into.

I nodded. "Yeah."

She smiled. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

Trembling, I got up and opened the doors, and lowered the bed. She looked it over for a few seconds before deciding my bed looked clean enough for her, I guess. I'd always been a bit of a clean freak anyway, I wasn't worried.

Cleo stepped up to me and began undoing the snaps on my uniform. "I like seeing you when you're wearing your biking outfit," she whispered.

I smiled and reached up for her uniform snaps. As my hands climbed lower on her uniform shirt, revealing more and more luscious cleavage, my breath caught in my throat. "I like seeing you anytime. You're so sexy."

She smiled and stepped back and began to undress. I watched for about ten seconds and started doing the same. She stopped at her bra and panties. I stopped at my boxers. Her bra and panties were a lacey and silky matched set, in deep maroon, which looked amazing against her beautiful dark skin. She crawled onto the bed slowly, laying on her back with her beautiful cinnamon braids spread in a fan above her head. She wore them in a style that had been made popular by Janet Jackson around that time.

My breathing was ragged, and my hands trembled, seeing her beautiful mature body.

"Oh wow." It was probably not the suavest thing to say in that situation, but she accepted the compliment in the spirit it had been given. I climbed up next to her, gazing into her eyes.

She ran her hand down her neck and down over the swell of her breast, barely contained in her plunge bra.

"You're gorgeous. I've wanted to touch you since we first met." I said, my voice wavering.

Cleo took my right hand and traced the same route her hand had taken just a moment before. "You keep talking to the girls that way and they will be lining up to fuck your brains out."

I leaned over her as she lay on her back and kissed her deeply. We made out for a while, letting our hands roam wherever we wanted. When her hand slid over the hardness in my boxers she moaned appreciatively.

"Mmm. That feels nice." She rolled me onto my back and got up on her knees. Smiling seductively, she reached back for the clasps on her bra. "You ready for these, college boy?"

I swallowed. "Like you can't believe."

She swept off her bra, letting her large breasts fall naturally. Time and gravity had sagged them a little, but they were full and round and so womanly. I was speechless. She giggled. "I'll take that awed look as a compliment."

I could only nod my head as she began sliding my boxers down. Tina hadn't been built like this and had always kept her bra on. Those wonderful orbs were the first naked breasts I'd ever seen in the flesh.

When my straining cock sprang free, she smiled. "I see someone else appreciates them too." After my shorts were gone, she straddled my thighs and leaned down to kiss me. My cock was pressing deep into the gusset of her silky panties. I reached up and gently grabbed both breasts, letting my fingers sink into their pillowy softness.

"Oh Cleo," was all I could get out. With a lascivious smile, she raised herself over me to set her beautiful brown areola and nipple into my open mouth. Her areolas were as big around as a soda can, with nipples like gumdrops, hard and wonderful. I suckled like a newborn as her hand came around to cup my head, holding me to her.

"Oh yeah baby, that's it, tuck in there," she moaned into my ear. After several minutes with both of her juicy boobs, she slid back down over my knees again. With her breasts dangling, she looked up at me and grinned as I watched my cock sliding between her tits. It was a divine image that is still tattooed into my brain to this day.

"Is that a nice soft place, Brett?"

I gasped. "So soft."

With a wolfish grin, she added, "How about this then?" Then she took my rock-hard cock into her mouth and slid it into the back of her throat.

My head snapped back, and my mouth gaped. "Oh my God, that feels amazing," I moaned. She sucked me all the way into her, with her tongue doing wonderful things on the bottom of my cock. In my limited experience, I'd never felt anything like it. She picked up the pace, sliding me in and out of her mouth. It was so warm and wet, I knew I wasn't going to last long and told her so.

I laced my fingers into her braids and held her gently. "My Queen, if you keep that up, I'm gonna ... oh"

She slid off my cock for a moment. "Yeah, boy, give it to me. Your Queen wants all of it." As she renewed her efforts, my hips began to buck all on their own.

"Fuck yes!" I screamed as I came a geyser down her lovely throat. I flexed my hips, firing shot after shot until I collapsed onto the bed. She continued to suck gently getting every drop as my cock softened a bit in her mouth.

She grinned up at me. "Mmm. Did you enjoy that, my young stud?"

I raised my head, with a silly satisfied smile. "That ... was fucking ... amazing."

She rolled off onto her side and kissed me before looking into my eyes. "So, are you the sort of man to reciprocate in kind when a woman has pleased you with her mouth?"

At least in this part of my limited repertoire, I had some confidence. "I'd love to," I said with a grin.

She smiled broadly, rolling onto her back and spreading those wonderous thighs. I slid down, rubbing my hand gently down the gusset of her panties. I could feel her thick pussy lips through the fabric.

"You know what you're doing down there, boy?" She lifted her ass so I could slide her panties off.

As I settled my face over her glistening pussy, I answered her. "You tell me."

Her trimmed pussy tasted and smelled of sweat, but that only lasted for a few licks before the taste of her juices overwhelmed it. It was musky and sharp and wonderful.

I kissed and nipped all around her vulva and that tender spot on the inside of her thighs. Before starting with her thick pussy lips, pulling them into my mouth and sucking on them while running my tongue over them. She moaned loudly, running her fingers through my hair. I took that as a vote of appreciation.

By the time I started in on her big, engorged clit I had her writhing on my sheets. "Fuck, boy, you're gonna make me cum," she moaned and then slid back and flipped over. She got on her hands and knees, with her big, beautiful ass in the air. "Slide up under there, boy, I want to ride your face."

With my cock at full attention once again, I slid my head through the V of her glorious thighs and renewed my efforts, sucking hard on her big clit. She rode my face, rubbing her slick pussy on my mouth and nose. "Oh yeah, that's it, lick that pussy! Fuck yes!"

After several more minutes, she finally stopped me. "Stop! I'm gonna ... get up and fuck me. Put that young hard cock in my pussy and fuck me! I want to cum on that dick."

Those were the glorious words I'd waited so long to hear. I was thrilled to hear them from Cleo. A fantasy fulfilled in the best way I could imagine.

I got up on my knees and slid my cock up under her, feeling the wetness of a pussy for the first time on my cock. Not wasting any time, she reached down and guided me quickly into her wet hole. Her long, painted nails grazed my balls gently. As I slowly slid into her, my toes curled and all but the animal part of my brain shut down. Only the feeling of her warm, wet pussy mattered. Only the sound of her voice, urging me on, felt real. It was feral, visceral, and deep.

"Yeah, that feels ... oh ... yeah. Get after it!" she wailed loudly.

I slid out and then back in, briskly. "Oh yes. It's been too fucking long. You feel so good. Come on now, fuck me!"

I growled deep in my throat as a shiver ran through me. I began to piston my hips forward and back. It was an unfamiliar exercise, and it took a few strokes to get the coordination down, but once I did, I grabbed those gorgeous hips and began to hammer into her as hard as I could. Her big perfect ass shuddered with every impact and I watched it utterly spellbound. I pounded into her until we got our motions synchronized and she started pushing back into me as I thrust into her.

"Yeah, baby. That's it ... oh ... gonna cum! I'm gonna cum on that young dick! Oh ... yeah!" she screamed.

Even from the back, Cleo's orgasm was glorious to watch. Her back arched and she dropped onto her elbows, pushing her ass back toward me. Her breath came in little gasps and moans. Her pussy clamped down on my cock and I eased up my thrusts, just moving a little bit.

"Oh fuck baby, you feel soooo good," Cleo moaned between gasps.

When her pussy relaxed, I began stroking slowly into her.

She looked back over her shoulder at me. Beads of sweat covered her lovely face. "Are you close, baby?"

The slow steady thrusting into her tightness was getting me there, quickly. "Oh yeah. I'm real close."