--- It was another hot, crotch-draining day whilst her Majesty ate grapes. Her coffee/ toffee skin absorbing the love of others, her full black lips, large barrel-shaped buttocks, the way she drained a cocoa nut, all betold her royal bearing or regal something anyway. Wednesdays were meant for love & the Queen of The Congo wasn’t about to get ******* out of another one. She could have any man in her realm or,  if time permitted, any great ape. She wasn’t accustomed to mating with gorillas so much if ever, if not lately, since March anyway. {If you were in my shoes right now you’d be wearing high heels.}