Well! This woman is what James Brown would call Super Bad. I might how to make this one mine. Damn it looks like she has good pussy!
“You look new,” gushed The Facilitator
with a huge smile. His eyes sparkling.
“I am.” She was elegant in a satin Guccidress, with long shaved legs. Her earrings shined from the soft lighting, her four inch patent leather stiletto heels gleaming.
She licked her lips, tasting her lipstick. Her nipples erect, she stuck out her
tits.
“And you are?”
She gushed, “Take It in the Ass Only,”
covering her mouth like a school girl.
The Facilitator checked her profile.
“You may enter.”
She gave an attitude of model Naomi
Campbell standards.
“Thank you.” She bit a fingernail coyly. “No one will touch my pussy, right?”
He looked around discreetly, coming around the podium. He got on his knees and kissed her pussy. Smelled so fresh. Standing up, she smiled, pinching his cheek.
He said, “No one will touch it, but damn I just wanted to kiss it.”
She wasn’t impressed; in fact she shoulda pissed in his face.
She gave an innocent laugh, like the girl next door. “Can I go now?”
“Remember, follow the rules.”
She smiled, silently farting as she went down the hallway.
Too much pasta last night.
Damn, I have to take a shit. Oh, well. Too late for that. They still can’t touch my pussy. I mean business, too.
Somebody’s getting a…shitty dick today! I’ve always wanted to be a painter. Should I be Picasso? Leonardo Di
Vinci? Or Van Gogh?
Ok, pussy. I’ll be all three. Call me Picasso Leonardo Gogh. Yea. That is perfect.
I don’t care.
That’s the way it’s got to be...
♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️
In came Anaconda Snake.
“Man, you’re Anaconda Snake?” The
Facilitator was gawking at the visitor’s profile. It was a page long, with his photo and stats.
No Teeth smiled. Fat and handsome. Stinky and had the gall to spray on clouds of Cool Water.
Smelled like Hot Shit. “Yes I’m is.”
The Facilitator sneered. “Yes I’m is? Man, it’s yes I am! Where are you from?”
He was scratching his pubic region something terrible, herpes bumps on his top lip.
“I’m from Da City.”
“You have got to be joking. Da City where?”
“Liberty City!” he snorted. “Where da hoes at?’
The Facilitator said slowly, “In the back.”
No Teeth was clapping his hands. “Can I enter?”
The Facilitator said, “Follow the rules.”
Wobbling down the hallway, he said, “Fuck the rules. Where’s da pussy?”
When he got to the double doors, The
Facilitator picked up his Nextel phone.
Chirp, chirp.
“Yea, Man?” said the Receiver.
The Facilitator said, smiling, “Send Free Willy home. Make sure he leaves amicably. Send him out the back door.
He is not the guy on his picture I have in front of me. Rule violation.”
He slid the phone in his pocket, listening to some people sing an inspirational song he loved through the other set of double doors.
His father was having morning worship. But the Facilitator, the Pastor’s son, was having a different kind of worship today.
The kind that celebrated the human flesh and his thirst for lust.
Can the participants handle it?
YOU ARE READING
ARE YOU FREAKY DEAKY Book 1 (Erotica)
ChickLitI was 5 feet 4 inches with a Lil' Kim-type body without the plastic surgery. Men always said that I looked like Toni Braxton but sexier. I knew that already. Duh! I was too pretty for my own good. Melissa Jackson never live by the rules. She breaks...
