It was a starry night, and while no one would ever accuse Isrealite Shotta of being the type of man who ever noticed nature’s beauty, tonight he would do any naturalist proud. His eyes were wide and as bright as the multitude of stars watching him struggling to delay his climax. He could hear the wind rustling the leaves, making it sound like the trees were having a low conversation with each other. He could smell the earthy scent that typically followed rainfall. He was on his bedroom balcony, stroking Makyiah from behind, her ass so big his hands on her cheeks looked like a toddler trying to palm two basketballs. She was bent over low, so low she was holding on to the bottom of the railing, her long thick legs spread wide, giving him the unabridged version of her essence.