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Coming home to a dark and silent apartment bothered Jill more than she would ever admit. It was a sad state of affairs when a woman like her only had an empty bed to look forward to.
Not even stripping down to a shirt and panties gave her the usual satisfaction. Especially when she would have preferred to have someone's help.
Coming back from the bar without any company left Jill with nothing much to do. Too wired for sleep, she settled for some basic entertainment: a beer from the fridge and late night television.
Lounging back in her recliner chair, Jill flipped through the stations, taking swigs from her bottle as she did. There was a nice warmth caressing her bare legs and belly thanks to the apartment heater, but it wasn't enough to ward off that chill of loneliness.
Eventually, she landed on a channel that piqued her interest. But it wasn't because of any engaging plot or riveting performances… though what Jill could see on screen was certainly a performance.
Up on Jill Valentine's TV played a midnight movie. A skin flick. Before her eyes, a man and a woman were locked together in a carnal embrace. And by God were the two putting in the effort. Bodies glistening with sweat joined, collided amidst a symphony of screams, grunts, and passionate cries.
The cold brim of the beer bottle brushed across Jill's lips. Her tongue slowly slid out over the tip. After a moment, she tipped it back for a sip.
There was a close up of the woman's face. A pretty brunette, her pale, heart-shaped face flushed pink with exertion… and undeniable pleasure. Jill let out a hum, taking in the details, the tiny changes in expression. The way the woman's eyes fluttered, the way the sweat matted down her hair, the way her lips parted as she moaned in strained delight.
"At least someone is getting laid…" Jill muttered. She took another swig of her beer.
The couple on screen continued to go at it, hard and fast. The man worked his body like a machine, stone-faced as he hammered his cock between the woman's legs. He held her by the thighs, easily moving her about the way he wanted her. Manhandling his slender lover with ease.
Jill felt a thrill roil in her belly… along with a pang of envy.
There was a warmth now, small but spreading. Slithering under her skin. But somehow Jill still felt that chill. Even with the lively entertainment lighting up her living room, Jill couldn't ignore just how alone she was.
The couple on screen continued to fuck with wild abandon, almost like they were taunting her. But Jill kept her eyes on the wicked, raw display. Slowly, her free hand slid down from her tummy. Down to the waistline of her panties…
The woman screamed then, a wild shriek of unrestrained ecstasy. She threw her head back, her long, dark hair flying out like tendrils. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted as her pleasure reverberated through her throat, letting all know just how fucking good she felt. Unabashed. Unashamed. The man, the stud, the one responsible, he did not let up. No mercy. No respite. Not for either of them. His hips surged forth, his balls slapping against the woman's ass as he fucked hard into her cunt.
"Look at you…" Jill whispered at the woman on her television screen. "Taking that dick like a champ…"
The woman shrieked again, clawing at her lover's firm arms. Jill saw her nails dig into his tanned, glistening skin.
Jill sighed. She knew that feeling. But she hadn't personally felt that kind of pleasure in a long while. Her fingers slid under her panties then, dancing dangerously close to the heat between her legs. She sank back further into her recliner chair. She held the beer bottle to her lips, mindlessly tonguing the tip.
The sounds of bodies joining together, flesh against flesh, skin slapping upon skin, filled the empty air of the apartment. The music of lovemaking surrounded Jill, smothering her. And yet it was only the ghost of what she truly desired. The same could be said of her fingers, sliding between her pink lips, dipping into the soaking warmth of her core. Her own touch was pleasing, even delightful… but it was not what she craved. With no company to give her that passion, that succulent heat, Jill had to settle.
The lovers on screen had changed positions, the man roughly bending the woman to his pleasure. He was upon her, his larger mass looming over her, large hands gripping her tight by the ankles - pushing them up by her head. Jill moaned, watching with keen eyes as the man dominated, controlled, fucked. His hard face set with determination and barely-tempered lust, he hammered, pounding his long, fat cock down into the woman's poor, tight pussy. Driving down deep, so deep even Jill could feel it.
"Fuck… give it to her… get deep in there…" Jill slurred, her own fingers playing, sinking into her own sopping wet cunt. Two fingers dipping between her silken lips, lighting up her nerves with such delicious sensations.
The heat in her belly had spread far, her whole body now burning hot. Her core was molten, the glaze of her arousal dribbling out and soaking her fingers, her panties. Jill grunted, baring her teeth as she worked her digits faster, hoping to match the man's pace. Her hips lifted off of her seat, short, demanding thrusts up against an absent lover.
It was good. But not good enough. Jill craved more. Something thicker, longer than her fingers. A cock that could split her apart, that could own her little pussy. A man, a real man who could put her on her ass and make her fucking scream.
Her empty beer bottle clattered to the floor. Jill clutched desperately at the seat cushions, writhing upon the recliner. Her other hand worked even faster between her legs, fingers and thumb playing upon herself, between her lips, rubbing her clit just the right way. The woman on screen was wailing, spitting curses at the hung bastard fucking her up. Jill was screaming with her.
"Oh, shit! Fuck! God-OH! OOOOOOOOH!"
A fireblossom. A supernova. Starting deep in her core, spreading fast. A tsunami of heat, sensation, crashing through her and over her. Her whole body was struck with intensity, thrills and spasms dancing through her muscles and bones and veins. Jill wailed, shrieked up at her ceiling, her hips surging up against her own diligent fingers.
Up on the TV, her doppelganger found her own release with equal intensity. The man above her, the stud, he snarled, grunting all stoic-like as he emptied his balls into his lover's needy cunt.
Just like a man should, Jill thought wistfully through the heavy haze of ecstasy. She flopped down onto her now-ruined chair, lazing bonelessly upon the cushions. She let her head fall back, staring blankly up into her ceiling. Her neighbors had probably heard her having fun. But Jill was too spent to give a shit.
The BSAA agent gave a huff… both of satisfaction and frustration. It was good. Real good. But she'd had better. There was simply no comparison to having a hot, flesh and blood body to keep her company. To keep her warm and sated.
On her television screen, the wild, amorous pair were cuddling. And once again, Jill Valentine felt a pang of envy.
A woman like her needed more than her own fingers. More than even a dildo. Jill needed a man. A man who knew how to give her what she craved.
A good, hard fuck.
He would need to be tall. Handsome. Built like a bull. He needed to be a man who could handle himself - and her if she wanted. Strong enough for the both of them. Not because Jill needed someone to save her or protect her, but because she sure as hell wasn't going to settle for some scrawny dweeb. Her man needed to be a goddamn stud.
And there was only one man present in her life who even came close…
Jill shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. It would be a cold day in hell before she even considered something like that.
"Slim pickings these days… A damn shame."
Jill Valentine flipped off the TV, her tired eyes slowly fluttering shut. But in a betrayal of her rational mind, a shadow began to take shape at the edge of her dreams. A very familiar shape. One with short blond hair and striking green eyes…
END PART ONE