Dogism

by Mark Anthony

  I had an overwhelming need, and I was feeling a lot of pressure. And at the same time I was feeling an intoxicating desire to desperately satisfy, address, and fix my need, which is why I wasn’t shocked that after only a little more than six months of sexual sobriety I had given in to the need and sought out a quick fix.

  I still had Scarlet’s phone number memorized. Scarlet was the fix that I felt I could not do without for the moment. I guess I should have run to Nicole for help, or run to anyone to help me fight off this monster that was approaching me and trying to devour me.

  I was nervous as hell, and I didn’t want to do it, but somehow I managed to get my sweaty palms and fingers to dial Scarlet del Rio’s phone number.

  My heart was beating, and I had no idea what I was going to say to her, or where and what that phone call would lead to, but I had to at least be assured that Scarlet still needed me.

  Ironically, the radio was on in my living room, and I remember the Aaliyah song “If Your Girl Only Knew” playing on low volume in the background while I dialed Scarlet’s phone number. As I dialed, I also remember thinking about a Bible passage; Romans 7:15, 17–24 that says:

  I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am. Who will rescue me from this body of death?

  Finally after three rings, Scarlet’s soft, sweet-sounding, familiar voice with a slightly detectable Brazilian accent picked up.

  “Hello,” I softly spoke into the phone.

  “Hello,” Scarlet replied.

  “Scarlet, you’ll never guess who this is,” I said as I waited in a moment of silence for her to figure out exactly who it was who had just called her.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who this is, and I really don’t have time to be playing games,” Scarlet said in her true-to-form straightforward and sassy fashion.

  “Baby, this is Lance,” I said in a cocky but suave type of way.

  There was a brief silence. I could sense that on the other end of the phone a huge smile of excitement had come over Scarlet’s face, and she was more than likely standing in shock and in awe with her hand probably placed over her chest for dramatic effect to portray as if she was having a heart attack or something.

  “Oh my God, Lance, I cannot believe that you called me.”

  PREVIEW

  Holy Hustler

  By P.L. Wilson

  Coming in 2007

  Chapter 2

  The Goodlove Men

  “You know, you should really do something about her,” Reginald said as he passed his father the financial documents.

  Pastor Goodlove ignored his son as he scrutinized the numbers that just didn’t add up. They had walked out to the enclosed deck that ran along the backside of the massive house. It’s where the pool and hot tub were housed.

  “According to these numbers, we’re down nearly ten percent. I don’t like this,” Pastor Goodlove said, still looking at the figures.

  “Well, I told you, you need to get a handle on Theola’s spending. Just last month, in um, February, she spent something like twenty thousand. Yeah, that’s right, twenty thousand dollars on clothes. I mean, I know you want her to have nice things, but that’s crazy,” Reginald insisted.

  Finally his father looked up at him. “Theola spent twenty thousand dollars on clothes in February?”

  “Yeah, Pop, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. But you act like you don’t care what she does. I don’t understand it, man. The tail can’t be that good,” Reginald mumbled under his breath.

  “You let me worry about Theola. You just work on these numbers. I don’t like what I’ve been seeing in the past few months. By August, we’re headed to the promise land and we can’t go if the finances aren’t straight,” Pastor Goodlove threatened. “I told you I don’t want to take out any loans on this project. You got anything else?”

  Reginald looked down at the ground. He used his hand to rub his nearly bald head.

  “Well, um, look Gee, you should try to curb your spending a bit, too. I mean, um, at least until we finish the expansion. With gas prices climbing, we should think about you cutting down on using the helicopter. I mean, the pilot’s fees alone are crazy. Then the plans for the new beach house down on the west end of Galveston beach.” Reginald looked away from his father.

  “What are you saying, boy?” Pastor stepped toward Reginald. “Look at me like a man. You saying I don’t deserve these things, boy? I don’t think you realize just how hard I work. It takes talent to translate God’s words into a message you young folk want to hear. Then there’s my work with the ill and disenfranchised. The counseling, endless appearances, and let’s not forget the weekly radio program. I deserve what I got and then some. Let’s not forget, either, it’s my talent that takes care of you and yours. But enough about me, at the beginning of the year, you talked about hiring grant writers to secure more money for the AIDS center. I ain’t heard another word about that.” Pastor Goodlove stepped even closer to his son. He looked him straight in the eyes. “I mean, what the hell am I paying you a whopping fifty thousand dollars a year for if you can’t help increase the bottom line?”

  Reginald scowled under his father’s words.

  “I’m still working on the grant writers. I’m meeting with two next week. They should be in place by the end of March.”

  Pastor Goodlove started fumbling with his clothes as Reginald went on about plans for the next two months. The pastor pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his driver.

  “I need you here in ten minutes,” he said before flipping the razor thin phone shut.

  “Is there anything else, Reginald?”

  “No, I guess that’s it. I’m going to Victoria Tuesday to meet with the developer. Can I take the helicopter?”

  “Didn’t you just tell me about logging time in that thing? Now you want to hop in it? Drive,” Pastor Goodlove snapped.

  “Okay,” Reginald said.

  Pastor Goodlove looked at his diamond encrusted Rolex watch. “Tell Theola I had to go away on business for a couple of days.” He left out of the back door to meet his driver.

  Damien Goodlove had explained to his wife that he merely ran into Jazzlyn outside the restaurant. He assured Michelle that things were not as they appeared when she walked in on them at the restaurant. He was only trying to comfort her, as he was often called to do since he was a deacon at Sweetwater PG.

  Damien had explained that Jazzlyn was having a hard time with the women and men at the church. It seems her reputation was making it difficult for her to make female friends and the men wouldn’t leave her alone.

  But the minute he was able to coax his wife back to her own table, he convinced Jazzlyn to leave the restaurant and promised he’d catch up with her later. Damien had been working on the sweet little Jazzlyn for weeks, and there was no way he was giving up just because he forgot where his wife and her gossiping friends liked to brunch.

  Hours after that near mishap, he was about to reap the benefits of his weeks of wooing Jazzlyn. They were holed up inside a room at the Motel Six off Interstate 45 on the outskirts of Houston.

  “I thought we were gonna get a nicer room, Dee,” Jazzlyn said.

  “Lemme’ see what you got on,” Damien insisted. He felt he had spent enough time and money and he was ready to get some kind o
f return on his investment. He and Jazzlyn had been sneaking around for nearly two weeks.

  Each time he tried to take things to the next level, she came up with some lame excuse about why they couldn’t do it. He wasn’t about to give her the opportunity this time.

  Jazzlyn peered around the corner from the bathroom. “You ready for me?” she teased.

  Damien was tired of the games. He wanted her in a bad way and he had the most painful hard-on to prove it. He sat waiting on the edge of the bed.

  When Jazzlyn walked out of the room, she was a heavenly sight. She wore a little gold lace number that barely covered her large breasts. Her body was even better than the other deacons had described. Damien could hardly believe his good fortune. He had something for Jazzlyn and he couldn’t wait to give all of it to her.

  “I really hope this brings us closer,” she said.

  “Um, yeah, why don’t you turn around real quick?” He rubbed his crotch and nearly started drooling when he caught a glimpse of her plump behind and the little tiny gold string that seemed lost between her juicy cheeks. She looked sluttish in the outfit and he liked it.

  “Come here, girl,” he said.

  “Wait, I wanna talk first, Damien. Remember when I was telling you about my experience over at Wilshire Baptist? I guess I’m just um—I don’t know, a bit afraid. See, I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I’m ready for something real, a husband—you know, a man of the cloth. And I know, well, I know you’re not in charge at Sweetwater, but everybody knows you’re in line for . . . um, Damien, I can’t concentrate when you do that,” Jazzlyn said.

  “You don’t like it?” he whispered.

  “No. I mean, it’s not that, it’s just we got all the time in the world to get to that. I just want to set some ground rules before we, well, you know . . .”

  Damien took his thick chocolate finger and forcefully inserted it into Jazzlyn’s moist opening.

  “Sssssss,” she playfully slapped his shoulder. “Will you stop it? I’m, I’m trying to tell you something,” she giggled.

  Instead of stopping, Damien pulled the crotch of the teddy to one side and rammed three more of his fingers into Jazzlyn. He stared deeply into her eyes as his fingers explored her.

  “We didn’t come here to talk, Jazz.”

  “Yeah, but you could at least try to spend some time with me?” She released a heavy breath.

  Damien twisted his fingers deep inside her flesh and marveled at the way the feeling made her eyes roll up in the back of her head. She snickered.

  “You like that?” he asked, eyeing her closely.

  At first she grabbed at his hand. “Wait boo, I’m tryinta’ ooohhh, I’m um,” she started gyrating her hips against his hand. “Damn Dee, there you go . . . you hittin’ my spot already.”

  “Yeah girl, I’m about to be way up in you in a minute. You like that, huh?”

  Jazzlyn bit down on her bottom lip, struggling to stop herself from screaming. She moved her hips and squeezed her thighs together.

  Damien, even more excited than before, used his free hand to pinch her nipples. He gently slapped her left breast, watched it bounce out of the teddy, then slopped it with his moist tongue. He caught her nipple and held it tightly between his teeth.

  “Sssss . . . I need you to um, to www-wait,” Jazzlyn fought. “We gotta talk about what this is gonna mean. Oooh wee, you know, when we’re through.”

  Tired of hearing her talk, Damien took her hand and guided it to his massive member. At first touch, she pulled her hand away as if she was touching sheer fire itself. But he easily steered it back.

  “Ooooh, it’s soooooo,” Jazzlyn struggled to catch her breath as Damien’s fingers moved in and out of her quickly.

  Satisfied that she might be ready for what he had to offer, he removed his fingers, sniffed them, then suckled each one like he was savoring candy. As he did this Jazzlyn’s eyes locked on to his.

  “Pull that chair over here,” he demanded.

  Jazzlyn did exactly what he asked. When the chair was right where Damien wanted it, he removed the last of his clothes and placed the chair a few inches from the bed.

  He took Jazzlyn by the hand. “You trust me?” he asked.

  She nodded, saying yes, and allowed him to guide her closer to the chair.

  “Okay, look at this. I’m gonna sit on the chair and lean back.” Damien tilted the chair until it leaned comfortably on the mattress. “Here, push on it, you’ll see how sturdy it is on this mattress. I’m not gonna let you get hurt, okay?”

  “Why we gotta have it leaning like that?” she asked.

  “’Cause that’s gonna help me get way up in you. Real deep, that’s how you like it, right? I just wanted you to see that the chair is sturdy against the mattress.”

  “Um, ah, okay,” Jazzlyn said.

  Damien placed the chair back to its upright position and pulled his boxers to his ankles. Jazzlyn’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

  “You okay?” he asked, beaming with pride.

  “Um . . .” Her eyes stayed glued to his member.

  Damien stroked himself, hoping she wasn’t about to try and back out now that she had gotten him all worked up. “Here, why don’t you touch it? I swear it won’t bite,” he assured.

  “I’m not worrying about being bitten,” she said.

  As soon as Damien’s hands left hers, Jazzlyn pulled her hand away from his crotch.

  “You not scared, are you?” he asked gently.

  “Nah, it’s just, um. I ain’t never seen one like that. I mean, how it get so big and thick?”

  “Good genes, baby. Goodlove genes to be exact. Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it,” he promised. Before she could say another word in protest, Damien pulled out a tube of KY Jelly. “If you like, we could use some of this, but I think you can handle it.”

  Jazzlyn looked back and forth between Damien, his large member, and the jelly he held in his hand. She didn’t say a word.

  “C’mon, girl. I promise it’ll only hurt for a minute, then it’ll get good for you.” Noticing the time, Damien sat on the chair and extended his hands toward Jazzlyn.

  She stepped toward him and started to remove the teddy that was now completely soaked with her wetness. The smell of raw sex lingered in the air. The room was hot and muggy. Damien pulled out the black and gold condom wrapper. Once it was on as best as he could fit it, she carefully swung one leg over the left side of the chair.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  Jazzlyn took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Here, play with my titties, that’ll help.”

  “Look, don’t worry about none of that. I’m gonna take care of everything. I’ll help you get on, then once you all comfy, I’ll handle everything else. I just want you to hang on and enjoy yourself, cool?”

  “Um, okay.”

  At first the head of Damien’s member sat at her opening. She wiggled her hips and worked more of him into her slowly.

  But after a few minutes, Damien started getting impatient. He was ready to beat up on her walls. When she was half way on his member, he took her by the hips and shoved himself as far as he could go up into her.

  She released a strained yelp, but it didn’t take long for her to start moving her hips. After a while, her moans went from belly wrenching gasps to sheer squeals of pleasure, music to Damien’s ears.

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  Copyright © 2004, 2006 by Mark Anthony

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written consent from both the author, and publisher Q-BORO BOOKS, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-0-9777-3350-7

  “Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.”

  This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray or represent any particular real persons. All the characters, incidents and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, entities, places and incidents is entirely coincidental.