- - - - Bɪᴍʙᴏ Bᴇɴᴇғᴀᴄᴛᴏʀ | Sᴛᴀʀʀʏ x Cʜᴀɪɴsᴍᴏᴋᴇ [NSFW]

[Starry]

The boutique smelled like money - fresh leather, polished marble, and the faint sweetness of high-end perfume misted hourly by the staff to keep the place "atmospheric." It was the kind of scent that clung to couture and credit limits alike. And right in the centre of it all stood Courtney Hartwell: thirty-six, thrice lifted, once divorced, and currently married to a man who hadn’t made her cum in over a decade. But that was fine. He was rich. And rich was the only orgasm she really needed. Courtney posed delicately on the edge of a velvet chaise as one of the trembling assistants handed her the final item of her haul: a silver, diamond-encrusted belly chain designed to highlight the hourglass contour of her surgically perfected body. She tilted her head, giving a tight-lipped smirk as she examined her reflection in the gold-framed mirror, her glossy lips pursed like she was forever about to spit venom. Her outfit was pure bimbo decadence. A skin-tight blush-pink blazer dress clung to her body like shrink wrap - tailored within an inch of decency and two inches past it. The double-breasted front was open just enough to frame the massive, round swell of her E-cup implants, breasts squeezed upward and out like glossy orbs under a too-tight satin push-up. Her nipples pressed boldly against the fabric, visible and deliberate. Beneath the hem, the dress barely covered her plump ass, riding up with every motion of her hips, revealing a glimpse of shimmering silver thong that matched her stilettos. Her heels? Seven-inch silver Louboutin's with ankle straps she wore more for domination than support. Each step was a threat. Her jewellery jingled with every slight movement - layered silver chains, glittering hoop earrings the size of bracelets, two cocktail rings on each hand, and a charm anklet with little hearts that spelled out “C-U-M.” Her platinum blonde bob was razor-sharp and fresh from the salon, tucked neatly behind one ear to show off her rhinestone-encrusted studs and her permanent expression of bored disgust. Every inch of her skin was airbrushed bronze, marbled with just the right hint of shimmer lotion across her cleavage and thighs. Her lips? Puffy, plump, and a glossy pink that made her mouth look permanently fuckable - and always just one pout away from demanding a refund. A buzzing tone made her glance down. Her phone - diamond-crusted case, naturally - lit up with an incoming video call. Tiffany, her daughter. Of course. Courtney rolled her eyes and accepted the call, already knowing it wouldn’t be good. “Hi, mommmmy~” Tiffany chirped, her voice syrupy and slurred, her face half-lit in the backseat of a car. “Like oh-em-gee! guess who just got picked up by that DJ I told you about…!” “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tiffany. You’re gonna get a rash from all this community dick,” Courtney hissed, tossing a glare over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “And wipe that cum off your lip. It’s daylight, you little whore.” Tiffany giggled. “You’re just mad ‘cause I got laid this week.” Courtney clicked her tongue. “Sweetie, I haven’t had sex in seven years and I’m still living in a gated mansion in the Hills. Do the math.” Another assistant approached nervously with her bag - silver crocodile leather, designer of course. “Thank you for shopping with us, Miss Hartwell. You look absolutely radiant today.” Courtney ended the call without a goodbye and slowly turned her head. “I always look radiant,” she said with a poisonous smile. “You’re just used to serving pig-faced yoga moms in Lululemon.” The girl flushed pink. Courtney grabbed her bag with a graceful twist of her manicured wrist and strutted toward the door, hips swinging, bracelets clinking, the air practically vibrating with her contempt for anyone making less than six figures. Outside, the California sun hit her like paparazzi flashbulbs. Courtney slid on her mirrored shades and drew a long, dramatic sigh. The streets shimmered with heat and polish - white Bentleys, boutique cafés, too-thin influencers pretending not to stare. Her heels clicked with practiced rhythm as she stalked down the sidewalk, each step a bouncing, jiggling performance. The silver belly chain sparkled around her cinched waist. Her thighs rubbed with that sticky latex-slick sound only slutty dresses and tanned skin made. Even her walk was expensive. But as she neared the corner, the storefronts gave way to the shadowed edges of Beverly Hills. Places where the polished pavement cracked. Where security cameras didn’t quite reach. Where alleyways opened like mouths - dark, empty, smelling of smoke and asphalt. Courtney crinkled her nose, pulling her phone from her bag and pretending to scroll, as if she didn’t see it. Didn’t feel it. The weight of eyes. “God… this part of town needs fumigating,” she muttered aloud, eyes flicking to a dirty alleyway just up ahead, her lips curling with disgust - and something else. Something… curious.

 

[Chainsmoke]

A few blocks down the boutique, there was an area that had been abandoned and considered a pigsty by everyone who lived in this very gated and very high-class community. It was the place where everyone who couldn't afford to live there eventually ended up; from the wannabe high-class people who were barely stepping into the world of the rich, to the actual rich folk who lost all of their money to a bad deal. It was also the home of a few people who had snuck in and made themselves comfortable in the filth, hiding away from society and living off the scraps they could get their hands on. In that alleyway, there lived a man, Thancred Davies, who was the lowest of the low. He was one of the worst people who could ever live there. He was large, fat, and reeked of the filth he lived surrounded by. He barely had any clothes on except for a shirt that barely clung to his fat body, and a pair of pants that were about to get torn apart if he made a wrong or hasty move. Most people had gone back to their little shelters, but the man remained... Stalking, preying. Over the course of the past year, he had noticed a particular woman would often pass by this street, though from afar, as she avoided it. He waited for her daily, slowly but surely making his presence known to the outside world, which was practically a sin to these rich bastards. They liked to keep themselves separated from the common man, and even the police force that worked in this place made sure to ensure that the people who paid the bills never had to witness or much less acknowledge that there were people who weren't millionaires within ten meters of them. Of course, they couldn't stop everyone, especially not someone who reeked as badly as Thancred. Thancred used that to his advantage to stalk Courtney from the shadows of the alleyway, watching her from afar and even occasionally jerking off to her body as he made sure that she could never see him. He knew that if he were found out, doing what he did daily, he'd get sent to jail, even with his massive body protecting him from the law, out of the sheer disgust of the officers that they didn't even bother to approach him. Not only was the object of his lust and desires hotter than any basic bitch who lived here, she was also rich as fuck. He knew that if, by some miracle, she fell for him, he would suddenly shoot up the social ladder and get out of these slums, maybe even live with her in one of those massive mansions. "Well, this whore is late today..." Thancred spoke, mainly to himself, as he waited around the corner of the alleyway for Courtney to walk by. Of course, he had no idea if she was actually late or not; the man was way too broke to own even a basic watch, and he didn't really care enough to tell the time. Every day was the same, and he only cared to survive to wake up for the next one. Unlike usual, Thancred felt bold today and was waiting rather close to the light that separated the start of the alleyway from the actual streets of the Hills. He was curious, far too curious and eager today, and had started growing impatient. As he waited for anyone to leave the boutique that was nearby, anyone who was rich and hot enough for him to fantasize about —even if he was craving someone in particular—, he looked back at one of his mates who was starting to head back inside. "Oi! Lewy, hand over a cigarette, and don't forget to light it like last time!" He demanded with a loud yell that it was almost like a roar as he held his hand out. The man he had called to, Lewy, let out a groan and sigh of frustration as he turned around, took out the last cigarette from the packet, lit it, and handed it over to Thancred. The dark man was far too large for the latter to even bother fighting him; best case scenario, Thancred would push him to the floor and sit on him till he suffocated. That was something he didn't want to bother enduring or imagining. Thancred took, no, snatched the cigarette from the man's hand and pressed it between his lips. He let the nicotine fill his system as the smoke crept out into the light, drawing the attention of passersby to the smell of not just the fat bastard, but the smoke that came from his leisurely activity. With his head slightly poking out of the wall, letting the light fall on a small portion of his face, the man saw the woman he lusted after and licked his lips. "About time you cow-titted bitch." He spoke to himself and crept back into the shadows, letting his cock slowly slide out of his pants, which were barely hanging on. With the cigarette held in one hand and his fat-cock in the other, the man looked over from the darkness of the alleyway and began stroking it. He imagined all the things he could do to the woman if he had the chance, and unlike every other time, he made his gaze obvious. "You sure know how to put on a show, you fucking whore." He spoke in a whisper, his eyes fixated on the woman as he practically finished the cigarette in record time, wanting to focus his full attention on the woman. Even if Courtney couldn't see him, the stalker made his presence rather obvious from the shadows as his gaze fixated on her, he was practically drooling over himself while he jerked himself off to her body and a wild imagination that would put any porn movie to shame.

 

[Starry]

The heat was thicker here. Courtney stood at the mouth of the alley, one perfectly arched brow twitching ever so slightly as the scent of smoke and city grime crept past the edge of her perfume cloud. She had every intention of just strutting past, letting the echo of her heels announce her superiority, but her phone buzzed again - sharp, insistent. She fished it out with a sigh, silver bangles clinking as she answered. “Ugh. What now?” she snapped, tone already dripping with exaggerated boredom. Her husband. Of course. He never called to check on her, only on his credit limit. “Mmm, yes, darling, that was a thirty-four thousand dollar charge at Marisol’s. And yes, the necklace matches my fucking labia, now are we done?” she drawled, dragging her eyes across the row of boutique windows opposite her, smirking at her reflection. “No, I didn’t ask permission. No, I don’t need to. Do you want me walking around like some discount real estate wife in Zara or do you want people to know who they’re dealing with?” As she spoke, she stepped slightly to the side, catching her reflection in the dark, tinted side of a parked luxury sedan. The mirror-like windows shimmered, giving her the perfect angle to reapply a bit of gloss. But she didn’t stop there. She leaned forward. Bent down. Her back arched instinctively, the curve of her tight, overfilled dress rising up to reveal the full, bare undercurve of her ass - her silver thong glinting like a target in the sunlight. Her tits nearly spilled out of her plunging neckline, heavy globes heaving with every breath as she adjusted her necklace with a pout. She turned her head just slightly, admiring herself from the side, her gloss catching the light. “God, I’d fuck me,” she whispered without even thinking, lips curling in satisfaction. But then… She paused. There, in the reflection - just behind her, in the shadows of the alley - a shape. No… a face. Her stomach fluttered. She tilted her head to see better. The car's reflection shimmered, and in it, she caught it again. A pair of eyes. Dark. Sunken. Locked on her. And then - movement. Her breath hitched. “...The fuck?” she mumbled, momentarily forgetting her call. She took half a step closer to the car, trying to angle herself better. The shape in the alley moved again, and this time there was no mistaking it. An arm. Thick. Heavy. Moving back and forth in a rhythm that needed no explanation. Her jaw parted slowly. Her glossed lips hung open in shock, frozen mid-sentence. Behind her, in the alley - lit by the barest edge of sunlight - was a man. Big. Black. Sweaty. And completely unbothered by the fact he was jerking off in full view. Right. At. Her. She blinked, phone still to her ear. Her husband was saying something now, barking about respect, about financial limits. “Yeah, I—uh—hold on a sec,” she stammered, then hung up without waiting for a reply. Her feet carried her forward before her brain had even caught up. Her brows furrowed, lips curling with disgust - or at least, what she wanted to pass as disgust. “What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing!?” she snapped toward the alley, her voice shrill and high in her throat. She expected him to shrink back. He didn’t. Instead… he just stared. Kept stroking. That thick, glistening length of cock jutting out from barely-clinging pants. It looked impossible. Veins, girth, sheer meat. A pornographic monstrosity that her own husband hadn’t even dreamed of having. Courtney froze mid-step. Her heart thumped in her ears. Her thighs instinctively pressed together. Jesus fuck. She didn’t move closer - but she didn’t back away either. Her glossy lips opened again, as if to shout - but no sound came. Her mind was screaming slobbering pig, disgusting, filthy, and yet… Her cunt pulsed. The phone in her hand slipped slightly in her grip as she stared - helpless, hypnotized and suddenly, extremely wet. And he was still watching her.

 

[Chainsmoke]

Smoke continued to trail out from the half-finished and put-out cigarette. It wasn't just the smell of smoke that would start flooding Courtney's nostrils, but the natural musk of the man who stood in front of her, hidden by the shadows of poverty that acted like a veil between them. A veil that barely covered the forbidden lust that he had towards her. The moment he heard the phone ring, for a moment, the hairs on his body stood on end. He thought he was done for for a brief second, but heard her tone of voice and inferred that he was fine. He continued stroking his cock, looking at the woman as his free hand pressed against the wall for support. "Nasty fucking slut. I bet that pussy is perfect for me." He uttered under his breath. While she couldn't hear his words, Courtney could hear him speaking in general, and she could feel his intentions and desires clear as day, his tone carrying immense amounts of lust. "And she's spoilt? Her husband must be rich if she's complaining..." He kept commenting to himself and observing while his hand continued to jerk off his hairy cock. He was growing harder and larger, till he reached his full length. Once Courtney stepped out to the side, she was a bit out of view for Thancred's liking, so he poked his head out a bit, leaning forward so that he could watch clearly as she added another layer of whatever makeup she had on. It only made him wanna ruin that face of hers more. Every movement of hers turned him on further. As she arched her back, precum began leaking from his cock like a faucet and onto the ground, forming a small pool. He could see her bare ass in full view, and it provoked him to form a spanking motion in the air, pretending as if it were her ass that he was spanking. He smirked at the view of her breasts that reflected in the makeshift mirror while she admired her body. "Yeah, I'd fuck you too." He whispered again, his words gibberish if they were heard, but with the same clear intent. As he realized she noticed him, he stood up. He was in deep shit now, but might as well finish the job if he was gonna get thrown out. The shape that Courtney saw began growing larger as Thancred stood up, getting ready to pounce or flee. Though he was determined to finish what he had started, either way. Soon enough, he decided to just risk it all; he put everything on red and stood his ground. His gaze focused on hers, daring their eyes to meet as he continued jerking off to her body. There was an odd determination in his movements. He wasn't moving fast, so he could finish quickly. But he was moving slowly, as if invitingly. If he was gonna get fucked, he might as well enjoy these last few moments. He stepped forward, letting more light shine on his dark body. Everything about him far outclassed her husband; girth, length, and even general body proportions made her husband look like a pathetic little bitch. The moment she hung up, he knew she was easy prey now. Every step she took, he met with his own, even responded to her. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked, taking a step forward and letting his tip bask in the sunlight. Even his head was thick and massive, making the contrast between him and her husband more apparent. His eyes were clearer now; they were filled with lust and a lack of any intent of letting her walk out of this alleyway if she stepped too close. He maintained eye contact with her, his hand slowing down as it occasionally made its way into the sun, showing her his fat arm that could clearly pin her down if he wanted to. He couldn't read minds, but he could read body language. His eyes fell down, focusing on her thighs. His tongue extended out, making an audible SLURP sound after he had licked his lips. His eyes began moving around slowly. They didn't leave her body, though, raping and undressing every inch of her in his imagination. "You've got two choices, slut. Take this dick or leave." He spoke, throwing everything away at the chance of fucking her. He was determined to enjoy her.

 

[Starry]

Courtney stood frozen, heart thudding between the heavy hang of her tits like she’d just walked into a damn horror movie. And yet… her thighs squeezed together. She could still smell the smoke, but now there was something else in the air. Musk. Male. Filthy. The kind of smell that made her stomach turn and her cunt throb at the same time. It wrapped around her like heat, curling under the hem of her dress, clinging to her skin like sweat - and for a second, just a second, she forgot how to breathe. He stepped forward. She saw him now - really saw him. His body glistened in the alley’s greasy light, every roll and ridge coated in sweat and filth and testosterone. He was stroking himself boldly, obscenely, like her shock was an aphrodisiac. Like he wanted her to see. Like he knew she wouldn’t look away. And god help her… she didn’t. Courtney’s glossy lips parted, the pink of her tongue flicking out unconsciously to wet her pout as her eyes dropped - right there. She actually gasped. It was… monstrous. Not just thick. Not just long. It was wrong. The kind of cock you’d joke about over brunch, the kind you’d see in a meme or a porn still and laugh - because there’s no way something like that exists. But it did. It was. It was there, out in the open, the fat head gleaming in the sunlight like a weapon, twitching, drooling, while the man it belonged to just watched her. Jerking off like it was his god-given right. And that voice? “You’ve got two choices, slut. Take this dick or leave.” Her mouth went dry. Courtney blinked. Once. Twice. And her fingers twitched on her bag, like she should turn and run. Call someone. Scream. Pull her phone out and threaten legal action like she’d done to a valet who scratched her Porsche. But instead… She took a step forward. Just one. Her body was moving before her brain could catch up, thighs brushing, dress clinging tighter with every breath. Her cunt was wet. She could feel it. Her thong soaked through, that glimmering string already sticking to her skin. And her legs didn’t feel right. They felt soft. Jelly-like. Open. Her voice came out higher than she expected. Not outraged. Not confident. “…You’re disgusting,” she whispered, breath hitching. But she didn’t back up. Her eyes stayed locked to his fat, pulsing cock. And her purse slipped from her shoulder, hitting the ground with a soft thud as her nails nervously twisted the hem of her dress - lifting it just a little more. Just enough to show off what was already visible. She didn’t even realise she was moaning, softly, under her breath. “…F-fuck…”

 

[Chainsmoke]

Courtney's action, or more clearly her lack thereof, made everything far more erotic than Thancred could ever imagine. It was so hot that there was precum leaking right in front of her on the ground. She knew how disgusting he was, fuck, even Thancred himself knew how disgusting he was, but despite all of that, she stood there, watching. He wasn't that good at reading faces, but he could read her body like an open book. Her thighs were squeezing together, and her heavy breathing, which felt desperate, told him everything he needed to know. Courtney was unfucked properly. That brewed an odd confidence in Thancred. She was standing there, not moving a single muscle to call out for help. Women who were like her, rich and powerful, didn't hesitate to call the police and scream at the top of their lungs if they were truly bothered. He had seen it all before. But Courtney... She was different. She WANTED his cock. He caught her body betraying her once more, her tongue flickering with desire as did his own. He even noticed her eye movements, which gave him an invitation to be more bold. He stepped forward again. He gave her more of himself. He was exactly the type of guy women would see in a porno if they were bored and wanted to switch things up from the everyday hot stud. He was the exact opposite of an ideal man. In everything but a single department. His cock far outclassed anything a woman could dream of having. He was like some sort of abomination, ugly, fat, large, black, and with a cock that could break her without even trying. In fact, he wasn't even trying at all. Yet he was winning all the same. "I don't have all day, bimbo." He demanded, his voice filled with the testosterone and masculinity that her husband could never hope to conjure up. He was impatient, and he wanted her to start moving things along, either submit or leave. Those were the only two choices she could have, and the illusion of choice was slowly breaking as he took more steps forward, revealing more of his girth in the daylight. The moment she took a step forward, a smile could be seen. It was sinister, like that of a villain. "That's a good whore, now get on your knees." He demanded, keeping his eye on her body. He wasn't even trying to hide anything anymore, as his gut spilled out in the light, and his sinister smile became clearer. He sniffed the air and caught a whiff of her own feminine musk, the scent of a woman ready to submit to him. "What? That sugar daddy of yours has a tiny dick?" He asked, moving his cock up and down, letting her see his balls and how heavy they were. Every part about him was large to an obscene extent. "Yeah, and you're one step from squirting." He mocked her with laughter. "Don't worry, if you're a good girl, daddy will give you that dick every day." He promised, as if the world started and ended at his cock and her worshipping it.

 

[Starry]

"Get on your knees." The words hit her like lightning to the cunt. And her legs - finally - gave in. She dropped. Not gently. Not gracefully. She fell. Her knees cracked against the pavement like a prayer, and her designer bag clattered beside her, scattering lipstick, perfume, a prepaid black card - everything she thought made her powerful - into the gutter like trash. Courtney stayed there, knees aching on the sunbaked pavement, staring straight ahead at the absolute monstrosity swaying in front of her. It shouldn’t have been real. The sheer size of it. The color. The smell. Her nose twitched with every inhale - sweat, piss, smoke, musk. Thick and feral. It made her head feel light. Like her brain was being rubbed raw from the inside. She wanted to recoil, to gag, to scream... ...but her lips parted. Glossy. Trembling. Still smeared in sugar-pink from her boutique visit just moments ago. What the fuck am I doing, she thought, mouth breathing now, trying not to inhale too deeply - but the scent clung to her. It stuck to her throat, filled her sinuses, curled into her skull like a drug. Her pussy was throbbing. Actually throbbing. She could feel the heat pulsing between her legs, her thong soaked through and useless now. If someone walked by… Her eyes flicked to the sidewalk. Just steps away. Open daylight. The traffic still hummed somewhere in the distance. A couple parked cars. The tinted luxury sedan still idling behind her. If someone so much as glanced into this alley... They’d see her. Courtney Hartwell. Down on her knees. In designer heels, surrounded by her spilled bag and dignity, staring at the oozing cock of a homeless stranger with smeared sweat on his gut and piss stains on his pants. I’ll just… finish it quickly, she told herself. He’ll cum, and I’ll leave. No one has to know. Her head dipped. Slowly. The scent got worse. Stronger. Her eyes blurred with the sting of it - like she’d dipped her face in an ashtray soaked in cum. Her nose brushed against the base, right where his cock met a heavy mess of hair and sweat. Her lips hovered. One soft, swollen kiss. She pressed it to the thick side of his shaft - warm, slick and filthy. Schmack. A wet sound. Her gloss left a print, thick and shiny, right above one of the pulsing veins. Her mascara ran just a little more. Her mouth trembled open again as she let out a shaky, broken whimper. The taste lingered on her tongue. Salt. Dirt. Him. Her stomach turned. But her thighs twitched. She leaned in again - smudging her lipstick further, dragging her pout over the greasy surface like a fucking devotion, jaw loose, mind slipping. The smell was making her dizzy. Her thoughts scrambled. I shouldn't be doing this... But she kissed it again. I can’t stop.