Home Sweet Home

23:20

Kingson got in at approximately 23:20 and saw that Kenesha was sitting on the sofa in the living room, drinking some wine and playing Scrabble online on his iPad. "I hope you haven't dropped my rankings," he called out to her, taking off his suit jacket. After washing his hands, something he was quite fastidious about, he opened the fridge and took out two ice cold Heinekens. One was almost finished before he reached the living room, plunking down next to her. She finished making a play before looking up at him and smiling. She was gorgeous.

"The 'Hero of Harlem,'" she pronounced, carefully placing the iPad aside. He rolled his eyes and grunted in amusement as he finished the first beer and started lustily on the second. It went down so good.

"Man," he explained, looking at the bottle of Heineken. "This beer is fantastic."

"You've been on t.v. all day, sir. Anytime I missed you, I'd just flick around a bit and voila!" She was radiant to him tonight, even in his clothes, too big for her. She finished her glass of red wine and wanted to take the beer from him but he gulped it down before putting it aside. Leaning over, she began kissing him softly, playfully and then, inevitably, with more and more passion. Their lips pressed on each other time and time again but with fewer and fewer breaks in between kisses. Then their lips locked in a final tongue-sluicing competition. She tasted of wine and herself. Their mouths and tongues danced the salsa, and the tango, winding and crushing against each other with elevating concupiscence.

Their heat rose and Kingson took Kenesha by the waist and placed her atop him. As they continued to kiss, Kingson lifted the shirt she was wearing over her head and tossed it aside. Then he paused, turned his head away and issued a resounding burp. He looked at her sheepishly afterwards but she only presented her breasts in his face, bouncy and round and perky as he knew them to be.

"You got some pretty ass titties, baby," Kingson said in an admiring tone. She laughed, always thrilled by such compliments. Holding his face gently, she leaned forward and kissed him softly, his Heineken flavored breath all in her mouth now. He attacked her mouth again with his, reaching up to squeeze her tits. She squirmed and moaned, "titillated," so to speak, by the stimulus of breast squeezing. He broke off the kissing and began sucking on her titties, taking care to not hurt her too much. When his mouth was sucking on one titty, one of his hands was squeezing the other titty. The other hand was squeezing her ass, often smacking it. He would also often grab her firm and well-rounded buttocks with both hands while still sucking her tasty, honey golden mammaries.

Kenesha moaned as Kingson bit her nipple gently and then with more force. He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear, all at once. His dick was half erect and becoming more so quickly. Her legs strapped him and she lifted herself on the couch by her knees. Kingson pulled her to him by her butt and moved her panties to one side. She looked down into his eyes as she descended onto his dick, biting her lip. He slid into her moistening vagina effortlessly, but he had to be careful how fast and how far his monster cock pierced her.

The motion of the ocean began, and both of them grunted in pleasure as they were once again transported to the realm of sublimity and initial carnality. It was enhanced to a different dimension of spiritual connectivity they had felt the last (and first) time. Their fucking was slow and poignant, but even when they picked up their pace, the poignancy was still there. There was a primal and animalistic fervor between them, causing both to put their all into every stroke, every holding, every caress and every chokehold.

When Kingson entered her, his whole body became nothing but one giant, living nerve, feeling nothing but the unexpectedly great emotion of joy as he fucked up and into her repeatedly, while she also bounced on him, her head tilted back in excitement. She was doing most of the work, riding cowgirl, but Kingson got himself involved, just so he could hear her squeak as he crammed his dick farther up into her when she wouldn't drop all the way down. They were fucking and making love, and Kenesha's wetness began thoroughly coating Kingson's dick, foaming out around the edges where his penis fitted into her like a pushpop inside its tight cover. She put her hand on his stomach to help brace her as she was bouncing up and down like a true champion. He leaned forward and kissed her again and she merely slowed down her gyrations but never fully stopped.

Kingson would squeeze and suck her tits over and again as they bounced with such grace and lust provoking zeal. Ten minutes in and her knees were tired, so she rested on him, kissing and touching him while his black hammer throbbed inside of her. They just sat this way for a few minutes, kissing and touching intimately. He moved her off him and stood. Then he adjusted her down to her knees, her upper body on the seat of the couch as he assumed the doggy style position behind her. Even though by now she was well lubricated, he still went slow at first, allowing her to become used to his largeness in this other position. However, soon enough, Kingson was pumping inside her tightness with controlled precision. He timed his strokes and the speed of his strokes, waiting and watching for the right moment, and that moment came shortly. He leaned over her to also be squeezing her bouncing titties, rubbing her nipples between thumb and forefinger as he pumped with every stroke. He pinched her nipples and she hissed and moaned while he continued fucking her like it was his last time fucking. The pumps inside her wetness were measured and he took a few moments to lean back and admire the contrast between how dark he was and how golden-toned she was. He leaned again into her and increased his speed marginally. But it was just enough to bring Kenesha to eruption, her fountain of youth running deep and exploding like a pent up volcano.

If Yellowstone exploded today, it would not have as great an effect on her as her release at that moment. Her entire being was one with the universe, at peace. Kingson completed her as he filled her; he replenished her, uplifted her, made her swoon. Kingson himself felt her juices bathing him and it triggered his expulsive urge. He arched his back as his hot sperm lathered the inside of her pussy, inundating her vagina until she felt so much of both their juices spilling back out of her. She clenched her pussy walls and squeezed his dick until all but the residual vestiges of ejaculate had been drawn from it. He stayed in her, panting, and leaned on her a bit but with his hands to either side of her on the couch, supporting most of his weight.

She thought the occasion was over... until his dick started getting hard again. She could have cried for joy but the strangest thought came into her mind: whatever happened with Ghislaine Maxwell? With so much happening in the world, the pernicious and pervasive exploitation of children, worldwide, was being swept under the proverbial rug. For some reason, the so-called "elites" of the world were plagued by pedophilia. Whether it was truly for the harvesting of adrenochrome or any other type of "chrome," the absolute bottom line was that children were being harmed, sexually molested moreso by a particular group of people belonging to a particular stratum of society, primarily bankers, lawyers, judges and businessmen.

And royalty.

A horde of Hollywood stars (actions and musicians, sports stars and other associated individuals) - they were also involved in this perfidious child sex and child trafficking enterprise. Human trafficking was at an all-time high; child sex trafficking was even higher.

Kingson and Branson believed in the motto: Protect All Children Even If They're Not Yours! Quite a few times word had come to either either twin, more so Branson (him being the "bad sheep" in the street and all) about a sexual assault on a child usually within the demesne of The Forum (from 125th Street to 144th Street, between Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard ["MLK"] and St. Nick Avenues). After thorough and incisive and intensive investigations (since this type of accusation was of a particular moral decadence, investigations had to be thorough and complete since the consequences were often fatal), judgment was passed. Sometimes it was broken bones, a few broken fingers, crushed testes, ruptured organs, or a bullet in the gut.

Branson took care of those types of investigations personally, as they were of such a sensitive nature; he always wanted to protect the identity and dignity of the victim(s) and of the family or families involved. So why was the blood or the innocence of children so sought after? For its purity and because the world was horrendously corrupt? For its alleged evanescence-infusing properties? For thousands of years, children had been spoliated by those in positions of authority.

There is none good: no, not one.