Bling

P Diddy asked a male escort if he was gay. The escort had been f*cking Cassie for him for six years. Diddy was paying for it, watching from a corner covered in baby oil, and collecting the man’s sp*rm in wine glasses afterwards. Their longest session lasted four days. The escort left with bruises and tears on his d*ck. And in the middle of all that, Diddy looks at him and goes, “Yo, are you gay anyway?” His name is Clayton Howard. Cassie found him through an agency two months after he got out of prison. Diddy watched every session, paid Clayton’s mortgage for months after each visit, and once ran a train on Cassie together with Clayton and another escort for two days straight. Clayton lost it. Told Diddy he’s been smashing his girl for years and never once looked at him sideways. Said he felt propositioned and was about to walk out. Cassie came running out, heard the whole thing, and burst out laughing. Diddy went to the bedroom, came back, threw five thousand dollars at him. “Shut up.” Clayton pocketed it. They started the session. Diddy said he wanted to eat Cassie out. Told Clayton to stand there and keep m*sturbating. But then Diddy started shifting his body so his an*s was aimed right at Clayton’s face. Clayton moved to the side. Diddy followed. He moved again. Diddy followed again. “Yo bro, you blocking the damn scenery. You making me soft. Stay in one place.” Diddy froze. “Oh. Oh. My bad.” Did P Diddy hire Clayton to satisfy Cassie, or because he wanted another man naked in the room with him?