Somehow, at some point, Branson found himself spooning with Naomi, his lean and muscular frame easily accommodating enough space for her to couch herself into.
They were both still naked and it was about 3a.m. Branson stretched and yawned, trying not to awaken her. He lay there for several more minutes, face deep in her lustrous and thick hair. How funny it is, he thought, that once we get to know people we had previously prejudged or misjudged(or both, he mentally amended) by their covers, we often discovered they were nothing like how we had initially believed them to be. Who would've thought a "dime-a-dozen Instagram 'bad bitch'" would be spending the night at his personal crib!
He eased himself out of bed and went to take a piss. After washing his hands and brushing his teeth, he decided to take a shower. Oiling down a bit with some coconut oil he went back into the room buck naked and simply stared at Naomi.
Yougonnafuckupherlifetoo,likeyoudowitheveryoneyoucomeintocontactwith? The voice again. Something he'd been dealing with since... thattime. Removing his
boxers he crept onto the bed, up to where Naomi lay. He turned her body supine and
straddled her, knees under her armpits. Then he leaned forward at a forty-five degree angle until his hardening dick touched her lips. She turned her head and tried to turn her body but when she couldn't, she woke up in no small surprise. That was when he
stuffed her mouth full of his protein distributer, that quality dick. She had no choice but to suck it, and suck it some more, and keep sucking, and sucking until she gagged and he had to ease up. He slowly eased his phallus back into her mouth and kept it there, relishing the short breaths she needed to take in order to just breathe, reveling in the feel of her tongue under his dick with her teeth so softly grazing against it ofttimes. He
looked down at her experimentally and she looked up at him confusedly but willing to be servile, wishing to accommodate him howsoever he wanted.
Branson rocked his hips back and forth again, pressing his sumptuous sausage down into her mouth. She was gagging more frequently now because he was touching the back of her throat where the uvula is situated. The uvula is the small round piece at the back of one's throat that looks like a punching bag. Branson's dick was trying to punch it also, but the uvula controls the body's gag reflex. He increased the pace at which he
was fucking her face, having no choice but to shorten his thrusts or she certainly would have vomited on his dick. Faster he pumped into her mouth and she moved her neck as minutely as she could in time with the face fucking she was receiving. He then slowly stood up on the bed, lifting her to a kneeling position by her hair and never once letting
his dick fall out of her mouth. He crammed his dick all the way into her mouth and as the thick, white liquid streakedinto her mouth and directly down her larynx, she placed her hands flat onto his thighs, ostensibly for stability but also to keep his dick from going down her throat farther. She tried not to gag but his knockwurst filled her mouth and stretched her jaws; his grip on her hair and the back of her head was iron and would
not relent an inch. All the come raced down her throat and she had to work mightily hard to keep swallowing his mighty stream of protein while struggling to not vomit.
Tears formed in her eyes just as he released her hair. She immediately backed away onto her buttocks, coughing and wiping at her mouth. Branson lay down again and waited for Naomi to finish coughing and come lay back down. She went to the bathroom to clean herself up and wound up vomiting the entire load of sperm he had released down her throat. She freshened up, took a new toothbrush from inside the mirror cabinet and brushed her teeth, violently brushing her tongue as well. Going back to the bedroom, she wondered what kind of sexual deviant she had shacked up with. This nigga was a beast.
A few hours later, the lights in the house slowly brightened, on a timer for 6a.m. Branson got up, showered again and opened his walk-in closet to choose his outfit for the day.
He took out a pair of Trues, a Coogi sweater with a white Polo t-shirt underneath (and a wifebeater under that), some black Ralph Lauren socks and the new Bronnies. Polo Sport cologne was one of his favorite so he sprayed on a good measure of that in the full length mirror behind and attached to the back of the closet doors. At the last moment he reached for one of the dozens of fitted caps on a nearby peg: Knicks. Everyone knew the NY Knicks would never win a championship; but it was all about being a NewYorkerand, therefore, a team player. Keys - check; phone - check; pocket money - check... anything else? Turning a circle in his bedroom, he finally stopped with his eyes on the bed. Naomi was watching him warily, as if unsure of whether he was the same person who had woken her up with his dick in her mouth at 3a.m. this morning.
That'sbecauseyouAREabeast, whispered the voice in his head viciously.
He walked over to the side of the bed where she was lying and sat down next to her. "Yo man," he began frustratedly, eyes flitting about the room trying to put his words
together. "Yo, that's my fault for what happened this morning like - I don't know," he paused. "Sometimes some crazy shit just be getting into my head and I be acting on the urge." Naomi was frowning, still wary, but not as much with the apology. "There be times when I feel like something gets inside of me and I gotta get it out, sometimes sexually." Her eyes widened but he rushed to expound. "Not all the time, ma, just... sometimes."
He put his hand on her lithe arm. "But I ain't mean to hurt you, baby." He reached out to touch her glossy and long waves. "I want you to stay in the house today, learn the place,
where everything is, and wait for me to come get you. I'll pick you up at like two. Let's do some shopping, catch a flick - whatever you wanna do." She smiled a small smile and touched his hand, interlacing their fingers. He leaned down and kissed her before
getting up to leave.
"I'll fix you up something to eat!" she called out after him.
"That's fine, baby!" he called back, walking out of the apartment. Stepping outside, he glanced left toward the corner store. The night shift niggas nodded and he nodded back. They were waiting for Skar to come pick up the money. He got in the whip, warmed it up and took off.