Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

Chapter 1 - Wet Dreams & Lil Bro's

||Pius||

PRESENT DAY!

I throw my head back, relishing in the pleasure she's giving me. She licks the tip of my cock and swirls her tongue in a circular motion, playing with my foreskin. God, her mouth feels good wrapped around my length. She bobs her head up and down, taking me all the way to behind her throat. I arch my hips, gyrating them with my hands placed on her head.

This is torture at its best. Pleasure I never knew existed. Pleasure I never experience before and trust me, I've had my fair share of daily conquest.

She's different. I like different. I need different in my life.

She takes me deep again.

And again.

"Jesus!!!" I groan trembling under her heavenly torture. I fist the bed sheets, twisting them as a loud animalistic-like moan escapes my mouth.

God, if she doesn't stop...

My breathe hitches bringing all my thinking to an instant halt.

"Baby if you don't stop now," I breathe. "Then I'll come in your mouth."

She doesn't stop. She continues with her celestial torment...

And suddenly I'm woken by the familiar irritating shrieking noise. I jolt upright with my weight propped on my elbows.

"You're fucking kidding me?" I gasp breathlessly with sweat covered on my forehead.

I slam the stupid alarm—harbinger of my precious log Z's—off the bedside table with a frustrated groan. Stupid thing. Waking me up from my sleep when things were just getting cozy with its beep-beeping. Beep-beep my foot.

I rest my head back on the pillow, exhaling heavily. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a suggestive measure, clearly implying my frustration or discomfort.

I can't believe this. Not again? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does it have to be her? There are thousands of girls in these place I can have wet dreams about, but it'd to be her. The one person I hate because of...

Pius don't go there... something warns me.

Sighs.

And then I feel it. My black Calvin Klein boxers covered in my semen.

You better be fucking kidding me. She made me come in my boxers? I can't believe this. I close my eyes and throw my head back, growling into the pillow pressed against my face.

The question that has been bugging me keeps coming back, again and again. Why her? Why does it have to be her? Couldn't it be some other hot chick with blue eyes or something? Even having a wet dream about Natasha—my non-exclusive shag-mate who is apparently in love with me—wouldn't be such a bad idea, but it had to be about a certain brown beauty giving me a head. The exact same one whose life I made it my lives mission to disintegrate. Why? Because I hate the damn bitch. Because she's black. Because I loathe people of my opposite skin color. Okay, not exactly all, just a certain unwanted parasites who keep invading my dreams, giving me exquisite BJ's.