The Golden Masks: by dapharoah the King of Erotia
 

The Golden Masks Part I: Church
by dapharoah69 the KING of Erotica



My gut told me church today was gonna be an event. And if I could be real with myself I'd admit I barely got up out of bed this morning. I had to force myself to get up. When my alarm clock sounded I wanted to hammer the bitch quiet. But I couldn't find my hammer. I did find my dildo, huge, jelly-filled balls and black and I threw that bitch at the clock. It fell off the dresser and came unplugged. I savored the sudden silence.

My body felt like it was beat up. My head pounded excruciatingly. I hope it wasn't because of my medical condition. A secret I was keeping to myself. I tried to cook me some breakfast but when the eggs and grits got done I felt nauseated. Imposing death was really getting to me. My life had actually subsided to this. My life flashing before my eyes a hundred times a day.

I needed to clean my apartment; I never let it get messy. But I had a busy week. I worked for the Precision Response Corporation (PRC); located down the street from the Cutler Ride Mall, now called Southland Mall, the dullest, most boring mall on planet earth! I hoped the Bally Gym they were building and the new movie theatre in production put some life back into it because the Dadeland Mall on Kendall and 88th Street and the Aventura Mall in North Miami always got my business.

I gotta stop clubbing on Saturday nights and trying to get my ass to church on Sundays! I had shaken my ass for hours at Club Metropolis. I sucked some dick in the bathroom. I forget his name. I charged his ass three hundred dollars, since he was a so-called big baller. And then around 4:40 AM, on my way home, I met another Niggah, who was short, fine, had a Caesar cut and was slightly bowlegged. We made small talk, he offered to pay me for some pussy and he ate me out in my Honda Accord right on Ocean Drive.

I bust three nuts on the Niggah's tongue and I promised to take him home, since he was visiting from Birmingham, Alabama and he'd never been down south. I tried to tell him that we Miami Bitches didn't play the bushes. Trina and Jackie-O weren't the Baddest Bitches in the South.
While the world, Hollywood and the hip-hop community in a whole lusted after South Beach and the Hoes it catered to, they didn't know about the true Down South Bitches. Bitches that put it down. I was talking about the Perrine Bitches. The Goulds Bitches, I represented Goulds to the T. The Princeton Bitches. The Naranja Bitches. The Homestead and Florida City Bitches! Fuck those Liberty and Carol City Bitches! The shine weren't on them anymore, and I told this Niggah that. I charged him two hundred dollars for my conversation and for licking my pussy into remission. He didn't see me sliding his green-paper-and-credit-card filled wallet from his deep pants pocket. Hell, how could he know?

Once I put my visors up he leaned the driver's seat all the way back, putting the steering wheel up as far as it'd go. He had my face down on the car floor and my pussy in his face. He paid me up front, which was all gravy because it kept his mind off his wallet. I slipped it into my bra. I had huge titties so he wouldn't notice a thing. Us Goulds Bitches would get you if you got caught slipping.

After an eternity, the windows fogged up and the humidity growing to startling intensities, expertly, I pulled myself up, and slurped on his massive dick while he tongued the pussy. I got a head rush, all the blood rushing to my brain, mixed with the pleasure of a very wet, slick, skilled tongue gave me an adrenaline rush out of this world! The 69! In the goddamn car, heeeyy! My skirt up and around my hips, I felt my thighs trembling. Gripping either ass cheek, he tongue fucked me so fast and hard I was popping my pussy on his tongue with fierce abandon. He sucked my asshole and ran his tongue back to my wonderful opening. I shivered.

I felt the Honda rocking, I didn't give a shit. Why pay close to a hundred or more bucks getting a hotel room on the beach when I could fuck in my car for free?

He fucked my hot mouth until he came down my throat. I swallowed his hot load. He seemed to cum forever, it was thick and sweet, I felt his huge dick throbbing in my mouth and it made me wetter and I felt myself letting go as I fell over the mountain, plummeting towards the earth with no parachute…my walls pulsating on his tongue, which was deeply embedded in me, I exploded. I had to suck on his nuts to keep from screaming, and he twirled those hips, grinding on my car seat. He smelled so good downstairs.

Once it was over I felt drained. It took great effort for me to fix my clothes and sit up on the passenger seat. He pulled up his pants, not all the way, and let the dick sit there, looking all good. I couldn't resist. I grabbed it and stroked it softly. He looked at me, smiling. He was boyishly handsome.

I had said, "Baby, see Wet Willy's over there, do you mind buying me a drink and then I can take you home to my world and fuck you to sleep, show you what them Birmingham Hoes don't have? I'll drive you to the airport."

He had tried to kiss me. I wasn't having it. The Niggah's eyes shined bright under all the South Beach lights. "I'll be right back, shawty," he said, hoping out my car, and pulling up his FUBU jeans in public. Look at that dick! And his wedding ring shined brilliantly. I didn't care. He wasn't my man. Hell he could go back home to his wife in Alabama when it was all over. I just wanted some fast cash!

Sexy ass Niggah. Goddamn! How could he understand what I was about to do? I was 5 feet 4 inches, Lil’ Kim body without the plastic surgery. All the Niggahs said I looked like Toni Braxton but sexier. I knew that. I was too pretty for my own good.
When he crossed the street, running in front of luxury cars like he'd lost his mind, I turned on my engine, rolled down my driver side window for some much-needed air, asked the Niggah in the Cadillac Escalade could I cut in front of him and he and his boys whistled at me when he allowed me to do so. I zoomed up to my victim, blew the horn and said, "You got enough cash?"

I smiled sweetly. Men were on my jock, elbowing each other, nodding in my direction. He checked for his wallet. "Where's my…"
I dangled it in his face. "Have a safe flight back to Alabama. Oh, I got your wife's number in my cell phone, you call the police I call your bitch, Niggah, you’ve been punked!"

And I drove off, speeding up Ocean Drive, turning onto 5th Street, heading for the Macarthur Causeway, going home to count this loot.

I shook the memories away as I stared at the huge white and beige church. I earned close to three grand last night. When I got home I ordered four thousand dollars worth of clothes from Prada, Gucci and Sean John, entered his credit card information and had the items shipped to an abandoned address up in the City, next door to my girl Stacey, who I called and put on alert.

"Girl, I got you, can you order me them Beyonce shoes."

"Beyonce got shoes?"

"That's what I heard, girl. And I want that dress she flaunting in the Deja Vu Video."

"I got you, girl. And that's a corny ass video. Looks like outtakes from the Baby Boy video."

"I love it. But we're all waiting for Miss Jackson's Call on Me video with sexy-ass Nelly. They showed a VIP Peek on BET tonight, girl, she is hot hot hot with that Massai Tribe outfit and that Mohawk, I got the Mohawk!"

"No you don't, girl! You got the Mohawk already? I might get it, too! It'll go good with my snap-and-you'll-miss-it skirt and my rhinestone pumps, Chile!"

"Shit, order me some Apple Bottom pants while I'm thinking about it. Did you do one day delivery?"

"You goddamn right!"

"Girl, you're so crazy."

I hung up the phone. Now I could pay my rent and car note and buy some feminine products because I was on my period when homeboy ate me out in my car, I wondered when he was going to realize my blood was all over the lower part of his face when he went to Wet Willy's to get me that drink. I wasn't going to say anything. And he actually wondered why I didn't kiss him.

Chile, please. I was a freak. But not that freaky!

"Time for Sunday School," I said, trying my best to forget last night.

I had a feeling this would be one Sunday…School I'd never forget.

"Ain't that right," I whispered to my coochie before I had entered the double glass doors. I had feelings of unease. When I entered the building, the strong smell of Pine-Sol and Comet knocked me speechless. "Well, goddamn, somebody over did it with the cleaning." I had a very messed-up look on my lightly made-up face. A little lip gloss. Breath mints I sucked on, because I had forgotten to brush my teeth and the Niggah's nut was still on my breath. It didn't smell bad. I had perfect teeth and no damn gingivitis. So that was a good thing.

"Why look at you. Tell a Niggah what's good with you, sexy red."

"Brother Lloyd, nice to see you." I paused in front of the podium out in the empty Main lobby. I guess he was the check-in man this week. Keeping documentation of who showed up to church.

"It's always a pleasure to see you. You're looking rather, tempting."

"I could say the same thing about you. I love the suit. What do you have on underneath?"

"I'm free balling, you know that. You know it’s about to go down."

"All right Young Joc. You know you're only twenty-one, you don't know shit about going down, now do you?"

"Aw, the assumptions begin. And don’t say my age too loud, I told some off-brand bitch I was the police sergeant when I’m not even a cop! You know how we do! Aren't we being a bit presumptuous, Sister Jackson?"

"Niggah, I don't think so."

"Careful, we can't get freaky in the Main Lobby."

"Oh, yea. Forgot about that. Niggah I got four glasses of Remy tearing me up, I'm horny as hell, my nipples are hard, my pussy is wet and I'm ready to pop, pop, pop, get it, get it, my Niggah so what's up, where do I go?"

"Down the hallway, the double doors past the Preacher's chambers. You're the last arrival."

"Thank you."

Dressed to kill in my best Sunday outfit I started down the hallway.

Until his voice stopped me. "Whoa! Wait, hold up. Come back here Sister Jackson. I don't see your name on the list."

I wonder why? Disgruntled, I went back over to Brother Lloyd, who looked me up and down. He was the Preacher's son, the one holding the Special Event, secretly, in the church. I heard Hallelujah's and Amen's bursting from the closed doors to the main assembly. They didn't have a clue what was about to go down in the back of the church.
The parking lot was filled to capacity, I'll leave the church nameless, to protect it. My Mama always said the biggest freaks were in the church. And the Special Invite Only event proved it.

I pointed to my name on the list, which he kept carefully hidden under the Church List. Damn. Forty people were in attendance in the Special Session Arena. I should know. He checked me off, and the number 40 was next to my name.

"Freaky Bitch is the name you chose?"

I eyed him, licking my sexy lips. "Yes, M.C. That would be me. And I guess you're Mister King Kong Dick of the South. You better be packing the beef with the name you gave yourself."

"I am. Trust me. You'll see soon. Go ahead. Proceed. Remember, follow the rules. And once the party gets started, I'll give you what you need." He picked up the lists. He put the Main Assembly list in the drop box. And stuffed the other list under his arm. Turning off his lap top, he locked it under the podium, stuffing the key in his suit jacket.

I walked past him, twisting my romp, my hand in mid air, my floral hat angled on my head, my sexy dress classy and black. "And I'm sure you will."

My heels clickety-clacked down the hallway with sounding echoes.

Towards the double doors.

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