Only in America

When she was thirty, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints and Chairwoman of the Saints-Ultor Media Group, also learned that everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.

Given the number of times she'd been fucked over- by Alderman Hughes, by Julius, by Dex, by Dane Vogel, by Josh I-Am-The-Fucking-Antichrist-And-Someone-Needs-To-Wire-My-Jaw-Shut Birk- that had been a difficult point for America to concede. Had Viola joined the Saints five years earlier, Shaundi probably would have been the one to encourage America to give her a chance. Instead, the brunette was one of the loudest voices against.

Nonetheless, America figured they were probably stuck working together, which meant that as far as she was concerned, Viola needed to undergo the same stringent interview process as all her lieutenants.

"God, I'm sooo drunk..." Nonetheless, Viola threw back the shot with abandon. If America had still been sober enough to keep track, she'd have known it was the former Morningstar leader's sixth. But she wasn't, so she lolled her head back with a snort of laughter.

"Are you...are you drunk enough t'do body slots? Shops. Stops. Fuck."

Viola giggled. It was a sound America had never heard before. "Don' tempt me. I'm a..." She leaned across the table, beckoning her new employer closer. "I'm a real slutty drunk!" she whispered.

"Pffft!" America tossed an empty shot glass in Viola's general direction. "Bitch, please! Back in Stilwater, I once started drinkin' at a bar in Chinatown and I woke up in an old fighter plane in a museum with the weathergirl from Channel 13..." America didn't notice Viola squirming at that. "God, she had the mos' amazin' tits, and she squirted..."

America's head rolled back around to find Viola's cheeks redder than they should have been just from the booze. America blinked through the fog. "You're not gonna throw up, are ya?"

And just like that, Viola began to blubber. "Oh, god! I'm so...I'm so fucking...pathetic..."

"Wha's...what?"

Viola leaned forward again. "Can I...can I tell you a secret?" America just raised her eyebrows, which Viola apparently took as a yes. "I...I've never hadda...y'know." America just blinked, and Viola's blush deepened as she gritted her teeth. "An...orgasm," she whispered.

And suddenly, America was on her feet. "What? Tha's...tha's bullshlit! I mean fuckin' look atchoo, you should have every orgasm ever!"

"I can't! I've been with...lotsa guys, and I never..."

"Pffft! Course not with guys! You think a guy ever gave a girl a orgasm in th' history o' the...fuckin' universe? You wanna come, you need a woman! I mean fuck, didn't you an' Kiko do th' fuckin' twin thing?"

"Well, it was always so easy t' make her come, but when she tried on..." Viola gasped, hands rushing up to cover her mouth and cheeks going redder. America just nodded solemnly.

"Okay, tha's it! Lie back, take off yer panties, and open wide!" America puffed out her chest proudly. "I'm the...fuckin'...chica who's real good at makin' girls come."

Even as she blushed, Viola hesitantly began to work her leggings and her black lace panties down, leaning back on the penthouse loveseat and hiking up her skirt.

America dropped to her knees, then stopped to examine the sight before her, blinking sedately but suddenly feeling much more sober. "Wow. Fuck, you...you gotta fuckin' beautiful little cunt..."

Viola bit her bottom lip. "Don' make funna me..."

America nodded solemnly. "Hokay." Instead, she dove down, tongue splitting the soft, waxed pink lips to lick the flesh inside. Viola gasped, fingernails digging into the upholstery.

America tasted moisture, and growled. "Your sister ever eat your pussy, chica?" Viola just mewled and nodded frantically. "Bitch couldn't make you come?"

"Phil...Phillipe always wanted t' watch...Kiki got off...ah...on it but I couldn...oh, fuck..."

"Look a' tha' pretty little clit..." America took the bud between her lips, curling a finger from each hand into Viola's quim, spreading the lips and rolling in circles to ferret out the most sensitive spots. Even drunk, America Ortega was nothing if not an expert at ruining girls for men.

Viola's hips bucked, pushing America's mouth harder against her clit. When the Latina switched to long, increasingly fast licks around the outside of the little bud, Viola moaned, the moisture on her chin and her fingers telling America exactly what she wanted to hear. She added two more fingers, stretching and writhing as Viola did the same above her, nonsense and curses and begging fluttering from the white girl's pouty lips. When America's lips returned to her clit, sucking hard as her fingers plunged deep, Viola screamed.

America slid her face down, eagerly gulping down the undeniable proof of Viola's first orgasm that was more intoxicating than anything they'd been drinking that night. The Latina slowed, cleaning the gleaming lips and thighs with her tongue, then sliding slowly up Viola's body as she savored the cream she sucked from her fingers.

Viola blinked, breath coming in gasps and spurts. "Wazzat...did I come?"

America shrugged. "I don' know, I couldn' tell. Might haffta try again seven 'r eight more times."

Viola giggled, tears running freely down her face. "When I'm sober, I'm gonna give you a kiss..."

America leaned over her with a feral grin. "When you're sober, you're gonna show me what your sister taught you about eatin' pussy..."