A Star Performance

Saturday, May 22, 2021

03:00

Branson awoke with a start, struggling to remember what it was th- oh, right! He reached out and touched Star on the shoulder. She didn't move. He pulled aside the jumbled bedsheets on her side and admired her body, the way a whole half of her t-shirt had come off and a large titty lay sideways. He held that titty and squeezed it experimentally; then he slowly sucked on the nipple. It took all of a few seconds before her hand cupped the back of his head and she began moaning. He slid off his boxers as he mounted pressure on her breasts, squeezing harder and harder. She was crooning now and pulled his head up to kiss him deeply and sensually. He put a knee between her legs and eased through them. She also pulled her panties to the side and gave herself up to him.

Branson breathed into her mouth, biting her lips and holding firm to the other breast. When he entered her, it was like going home sweet home again. No lesbian in the universe could duplicate the feeling a man experienced when he sticks the tip of his dick inside some pussy. Especially some bomb pussy. Of a bad bitch. A bad Black bitch. And she shifts up with an "Oh!" or an "Uh!" Priceless initial moments of lovemaking before the stroking began. He entered her all the way.

Like his brother, Branson was amply endowed in that area, and she had forgotten to which degree he could fill her pussy! She squirmed and tried to back up against the headboard but he followed her, holding onto and around her waist, forcing his dick deeper into her, kissing her, touching her, grabbing her, inhaling her and infusing her with joy and pain. She was panting and already wet. The rush of fluids did not surprise Branson: he knew how to make Star come, even early on. Like he had done with many other weapon, he simply tried to overload her sense of touch. And Star felt herself exploding into a million different pieces. The way Branson made her feel was unnatural; yeah, he filled her up physically and that part was undoubtedly sweetness personified, but by him touching her in certain places and at the right time - nah, this nigga was possessed by some priapic spirit or demon. Not as with the medical term of priapism (which dealt with a man's penis always being erect, but more so that Star had studied the function of the penis. Being with Branson had been one bed wettting event after another, and another, and another. He would whisper in her ear, bite and suck on her earlobe, while squeezing her ass and pulling her to him over and over again, onto his powerful thrusts.

Nothing had changed.

He whispered dirty talk as he slowly pumped that giant dick into her most profound nethers. With her pussy as wet as it already was, that squishy sound arrived: the sound of a dick deep stroking a fully moistened vagina as it is being clapped, as Branson was doing now, the sound every nigga loved to hear while fucking. His bed was so plushy that with every few strokes with which he struck, he pushed her deeper into the covers and the mattress. After about fifteen minutes, Branson lifted the back of her thighs onto his upper thighs as she lay there, panting for breath and with titties akimbo. He began fucking her rapidly and all she could do was hold on to one side of the bed and the covers. He was trying to fuck a hole through her pussy and into China. Simultaneously, he was grabbing and squeezing her big, bouncy and soft titties that undulated back and forth, quickly in tandem with the hammering he was giving her.

Branson thoroughly enjoyed fucking Star, every, single, time. She pulled him down to kiss him, knowing that he just wanted to smother her, and she didn't mind being smothered: by his hands, his kisses, his dick, and the ways he touched, squeezed and pressed her. She belonged wholly to him and allowed him to kiss her until she was gasping for air. He bit her lip again, almost drawing blood, and she yelped, but he kissed her and sucked the part of her lip he had bitten hard. The kisses became more and more gentle , though no less persistent, as if he was trying to lick and suck and, now, gently nibble, her lips right off her face. All of this while still pumping rapidly into a steadily moistening vagina.

The orgasm came unexpectedly, when Branson plunged deep and in a certain direction, touching something in her pussy, likely her G-spot, and the reaction was immediate. While Branson continued piledriving away at her pussy, her body was heaving and she was trying to hold on to him, to little avail. Sweat dewed their bodies heavily and Star was telling now.

"Oh yeah, oh, oh, oh, I'm coming, baby. I'm coming now, I'm coming. Fuck me harder, faster, faster- oooh fuuuuuuuck!" Star's body had produced the maximum amount of fluids it could, for now, thick and coconutty, and the fluid was pouring all over Branson's large dick. He kept lunging into Star at breakneck speed, raptured by the incredible pleasure he felt, and not trying to make it stop. He wanted the feeling to persist, and so it did. He had been pounding her pussy at a raucous speed for some time but even time had little meaning to him now - he was just focused on literally drilling a permanent niche into Star and staying there.

The pounding continued, sometimes with her legs up, sometimes with one leg down, sometimes held halfway up by Branson. She began begging him to finish a half hour later, that her pussy could not take more of his physical exertions on and in it. They were lathered in sweat now, and still Branson continued sexing Star, who was halfway to fainting. He resumed sucking on a fat titty, grabbed the other one and squeezed, mercilessly, until she yipped in pain as he bit on the breast a bit hard again.

"Ai, ai, ai, ai, ai, ai - baby, please, please, it's hurting me, ba-ai, ai, - ooh, oh, ooh, yeah, baby. That's it. Just like that, baby. Oh, oh, oh!" As she incredulously felt yet another orgasm rocking her, Branson also squirted some pre-come into her as he shook, his body becoming slightly out of control as the ejaculation built up and exploded inside Star. She could only yell out "Oh" as the heat of his come made her replete to the point of her cup running over. Dick and pussy juices squirted everywhere on top of the bedsheets as Branson pumped them out of her squirting pussy. Finally, after Branson's Herculean performance, he dropped down to the side of her, his dick slipping out of her as they both gasped for breath.

She began laughing, or tried to, instead breaking out into a small cough.

"What's... What's so funny?" Branson asked, his arm draping over her titties and stomach, his hand on her low shaved pussy hair (called a "penicil,"), in other words, a small tuft of hairs.

She did not respond immediately. "I think you're the only one who ever made me have multiple orgasms." He was lazily playing with her penicil, with his eyes closed.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Branson, really."

"I did my thing?"

"You did ya thang, baby."

"And when we were together, right? Was I doing my thing then?"

Star glanced over at him. "Yeah, Bran. Yes, you were. Even then." He didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"If I was doing my thing, even back then, as you yourself just said... why you killed our baby?"