Dope Girl: The Beginning

by Sa'id Salaam

  “Yea, make sure you wash that box out real good so I can get me a lil’ taste,” he called after her. He didn’t really like putting his face between her big black thighs, but it was in his job description. Joe had been damn near homeless, sleeping on friends sofa, when he’d caught his latest suga’ momma. He preferred the big girls because they were known to pay like they weigh, and of course, they kept plenty of food in the house. When Joe had met Janice he’d talked her huge panties down and put it down on her. It was an audition, job interview, and he had showed out. Her big ass was still shivering as she handed over the keys to her home, and to her child.

  “Stop!” Triste whined pitifully as Joe snuck up on her in the kitchen and grabbed her butt. She was so small, both of her small cheeks fit in one of his hands.

  “I got my period,” she announced looking over at her book bag. If that didn’t stop him, she was going to shoot him, right there in the kitchen; Janice too if she didn’t like it.

  “Period?” Shit, girl that ain’t nothin’ but a comma. Nothin’ but a pause, ‘cause as soon as it’s over, I’m coming back for some more of that “good stuff,” Joe warned her, before slithering away like the snake he was.

  “On second thought, I’ma go pretend it’s you while I fuck your fat ass mother.”

  Triste was kept up half the night by Janice’s hoopin’ and hollerin’ from Joe running up in her. She couldn’t help but to wonder why Joe even wanted her, since her mother seemed to love it so much.

  Abuse or no abuse, Triste like most daughters, adored her mother. She was the only family Triste had and she loved her dearly. She could never figure out why her mother would never return that love. She couldn’t figure out why her mother belittled and harassed her. Triste thought her mother’s dark skin was beautiful. One day she’d made the mistake of openly admiring her mother, which caused her to receive a hard slap across the face from her mother that was so hard the force knocked her down.

  “Fuck you mean you love my black skin? What, you think you better than me ‘cause yo’ daddy white?! You still a nigga!” Janice screamed down on the confused child.

  The next morning, Janice was dancing around like a love struck grizzly. She hummed Anita Baker’s song while whipping up a huge breakfast. Triste was happy too, seeing the eggs, bacon and biscuits, while Janice stirred some hash browns. She ignored Joe’s lustful gaze and sat down at the table. Her happiness was short-lived when her mother began to divide the feast into two plates.

  “Here you go, my long dick, good strokin’ king,” she said placing a plate piled high in front of Joe. She sat the other plate in front of her and begin to dig in.

  “You ain’t make me none?” Triste pleaded, on the verge of tears.

  “Bitch, did you make me cum four times last night? I don’t think so. You better fix you a bowl of cereal and get the fuck out my face!”

  Triste was too mad to eat now. She got up and stormed out of the kitchen and apartment, ignoring her mother’s ranting behind her back, as she walked away. Just like the proverbial straw that had broken the camel’s back, that was the ‘dis’ that had broken Triste’s heart, made a big hole in it, and all the love she’d had for her mother slipped out of it.

  “I hate that bitch!” she finally admitted to herself.

  ******

  Joe’s sick ass had been monitoring Triste’s period by keeping up with the amount of pads in the garbage can. She was so self-conscious about her first period, that she pushed the discarded pads as deep into the garbage can as possible, but not too deep for Joe’s nasty ass, who had gone in after them. He checked her ‘flow’ daily.

  “Oh, it’s back on tomorrow,” he announced when he came across a pad that was almost clean of any traces of Triste’s blood. Now, it was his turn to dance around the apartment with glee. Triste knew why he was so happy. It didn’t matter because her mind was already made up. If he touched her again, she was going to kill him.

  Murder would be a tough act for her to digest, so she decided to try talking to her mother one more time. She was her mother after all; surely she would protect her child. Even animals care for their young. Hearing her mother cackling on the phone, Triste held out on what she had to say for a minute, so she wouldn’t interrupt her. She also did a little ear hustling while she waited for her mother’s attention.

  “Girl, I’m so sick of this yellow bitch, I don’t know what to do!” Janice said to her friend who was on the other end of the phone. “I swear, I’ma end up droppin’ this little heifer back off to the Foster Care Center and let them keep this check! No wonder her real momma ain’t wanna keep her! Oh, girl, let me tell you, lil’ miss thang had the nerve to try and tell me my man been touchin’ on her! Like somebody really would want her lil’ narrow ass! You should see the way this bitch be walkin’ around here like she ‘all that’!”

  Triste was blinded by the tears and rage as she walked away. First, she walked into the wall as she retreated, then she accidently walked right into Joe.

  “Whoa, lil’ momma,” Joe said when she bumped into him. He took the opportunity to rub her budding breasts’. When he got no resistance, he reached around to feel her butt. If Janice wasn’t at home, he would’ve raped her right then and there.

  “What the fuck is going on out here?” Janice screamed, when she walked up on them and saw Joe touching Triste. Triste was so relieved that he’d been caught in the act, a smile formed on her face. She immediately got punched in the face knocking the short-lived smile right off.

  “Bitch, you in here rubbin’ your lil’ ass on my man’s hands!” Janice yelled and kicked the fallen child. She stomped on the girl as if she was on fire.

  “Chill baby, I’m OK,” Joe said pulling her away. “Why don’t you roll us up a blunt and let me get you a beer.”

  “OK baby,” Janice huffed, winded from the expenditure of energy. “I saw that lil’ bitch touchin’ you and I couldn’t help but go crazy!” “I know, I know,” he said leading her to their bedroom. Once he he’d gotten her settled down, he went to go and spike her beer. He had a hot date planned for the night.

  ******

  “You ready for me?” Joe asked seductively while he stood in Triste’s bedroom door. He actually leaned against the frame in a sexy pose.

  Also available now, KILLA

  CHRONICLES OF A STICK UP KID

  Introduction

  Xing Lee was talking cash shit as the good doctor stroked away at her hairless box. She was 'oohing' and 'aahing' and cursing in her native tongue as her current lover loved her. For all he knew she was talking bad about him but he didn't speak Vietnamese so it sounded as good as it felt.

  "Me love you long time!" Doc grunted as he slammed into her. His love life had greatly improved since his miserable wife died at the hands of the country's most dangerous killer known as Killa.

  The doctor was treated as a hero after surviving the home invasion that claimed his beloved wife. A minor celebrity to all except his wife's family. They blamed him for his former patient taking her life.

  Doc now had quite a few girlfriends on payroll, but Xing was by far his favorite. He currently had her on her side in the 'scissor' position and was giving her the business. He was four and a half inches deep pounding away. His prim and prissy wife would have never let him put her in a position like this. Whenever she did feel benevolent enough to part with a little vagina it was one way, from the back while laying on her side so she wouldn't have to look at him. There was no kissing, no talking or tenderness. Just hurry up and get off and get off.

  When the doctor’s stroke grew choppy, Xing threw it into overdrive. She began moaning and thrashing around as if he was slaying it. He wasn't, she was just a good actor. Her performance helped doc reach an intense orgasm he no doubt would tip for.

  Xing was bright enough to at least let her lover think he was knocking it out the park. The key to a man’s heart is his ego, not stomach. Any stranger can fill your belly, but making a middle aged man feel vibrant
was more important. She may or may not have had an orgasm along with him. It's hard to tell with professionals, or wives.

  "Ooh doctor you number one G.I! You love me long time!" Xing said quite believably as she got up from the bed. She rushed into the bathroom and under the shower. She was back minutes later and quickly dressed. A kiss on the forehead served as goodbye, and she was gone.

  "I'm an animal!" Doc cheered, beating on his chest like King Kong. It's one of the silly things people do when they think they're alone, only he wasn't.

  "Lion or tiger?" a voice asked from the shadows.

  Ordinarily the ordinary man would have been frightened at the presence of an uninvited stranger in his home, but he wasn't. He actually smiled at the sound of a voice he knew well. Uninvited he may have been, but he was no stranger.

  "A lion, I'm king of the fucking jungle!" he laughed as his now welcome guest stepped from the shadows and into view. "How long have you been here?"

  "Long enough to see you and your buddy bumping uglies. Oh, and I speak Korean. She was saying you have a little dick and your elbow was pulling her hair."

  "Fuck you Killa, she's Vietnamese!" Doc laughed cracking them both up. "Let me put something on."

  Killa turned away when the doctor bounded out of the bed in his pinkish birthday suit.

  "You're looking trim, no homo," he complimented.

  "None taken, thank you," doc said proudly as he headed into his bathroom to wash his and Xing’s body fluids off of him. When he returned he found the room empty. He almost called out in fear until he smelled his guest in the other room. Killer had found his way to the den and poured a shot of cognac to go along with his blunt. Doc found him laying back in a recliner blowing smoke rings from the pungent weed.

  "So, what brings you back to town? I assumed you would be in Brazil or Belize by now. It's been what, a year?" the doctor asked as he poured a shot of his own.

  "Back? Shit I never left. I love Atlanta" Killa replied. He extended the blunt to his host out of courtesy, and to his surprise the doctor took it and took a healthy pull.

  "A lot's changed," Killa said noting the new life in the older man.

  "Well yeah! I've changed everything," the doctor replied between tokes. He assumed Killa meant the new decor of the house, not his new demeanor. The weight loss, the tan, the, weed smoking it took his wife's death for him to live.

  "I feel like a new man, I'm alive!" doc cheered.

  "Yeah well murder will do that. Why you think I'm always so fucking happy" Killa chuckled.

  "Been killing much?" doc asked enthusiastically.

  "Have I!" he shot back animatedly at the gross understatement.

  "Tell me about it, please!" the doctor gushed eagerly and adjusted himself to get comfortable for the ride. He leaned back on his chaise to enjoy the story totally unaware he would be a part of it.

  The Preacher’s Wife

  Prologue

  How the hell did I get here? Teresa wondered inwardly as she glanced up at the giggling teenager standing over her.

  If the act wasn’t bad enough, she also had to contend with the young man’s vulgar speech and sweaty balls slapping at her chin.

  “Dats right! Suck dat dick bitch! Eat it hoe!” Lil Red demanded as he humped her face. Technically it couldn’t be called a blow job because the vile little boy was literally fucking her face.

  Teresa gagged loudly each time he slammed into her larynx. Her full mouth forced her to inhale the flavor of nuts that had missed at least two showers, and in the sweltering Atlanta heat that’s not a good idea.

  "Just hurry,” Teresa sighed, “And do not… cu…. Ewww! He’s coming in my mouth!”

  “Mmm take it bitch! Eat! Eat!” Lil Red giggled as he skeeted on her tonsils. Teresa had no choice but to swallow the pulses of bitter semen since her head was held firmly in place.

  “Dayum you got some fire ass head!” The man child exclaimed, taking a few final humps before extracting himself from her mouth.

  “Thank you, you're too kind,” Teresa replied sarcastically but the quip was wasted on the ignorant young dealer.

  “Here you go shawty,” Lil Red said, extending his open palm filled with dime size pieces of crack. The young veteran had cut the drug at angles that made it appear more than it actually was. Still, five dimes was a lot for some head.

  The local junkies will go as low as four dollars in a pinch. But this was no local junky. Her SUV, clothes, and even her smell spoke money, yet she had none. Lil Red didn’t think she would accept his crass proposal to “suck a nigga dick” but she did.

  Teresa looked at the drugs with dismay. She felt like slapping the poison across the room. However, a far more intense urge insisted she pluck them from his hand.

  “Shit fall through tomorrow, I’ll let you suck this dick again,” Lil Red offered politely over his shoulder as he exited the hotel room.

  As soon as he crossed the threshold of the door, Teresa ran to secure it. She loathed the ghetto of Atlanta, but crack cocaine was not sold in her upscale suburban neighborhood.

  She quickly removed one of the rocks from its tiny plastic bag and spilt it in two. After loading one half onto her straight shooter, she quickly followed it up with a flame.

  ‘Ahhh!'Teresa exclaimed when she finally exhaled that overdue hit. She deserved it too for all she does. Daughter Hazel was at ballet class and son Calvin was at soccer, this was “me time”.

  Her free hours were spent devouring the drugs she purchased with her dignity. Then it was time to return to her life, “Life as the Preachers Wife.”

  Chapter 1

  Teresa Sanders was born Teresa McCoy in Atlanta, at Grady Hospital thirty five Christmas days ago. Complications ensured she would be the couple’s only child.

  Her parents reigned over a mid-sized church on Atlanta’s south west side. The first Baptist Church of Christ was located on busy Cascade Ave. The congregation consisted entirely of the middle class home owners in the area. They tithed generously to the church and to pastor McCoy personally.

  They made sure he had a new car every year ‘cuz pastor can’t be seen driving no bullshit.' The church even gifted the family the biggest house in the area.

  The income allowed the McCoy’s to lavish their child with gifts and special treatment that spoiled the pretty little girl rotten. By three years old, Teresa was not only use to having her way she actually demanded it.

  “NO” was a word totally foreign to the Prima Donna. She was prone to world class tantrums if not given her way. At times the brat would insist upon items she didn’t really desire. This was done to ensure a garage laden with unwanted novelties that no longer held her interest.

  Teresa was a beautiful baby, then a pretty little girl. By high school she was drop dead gorgeous. She even inherited her mom’s wide hips and fat ass that had hooked her daddy many years back. Hands down she was the prettiest girl in any room she walked into.

  Her parents enrolled her in all girls’ schools in attempt to keep dicks out of their child. By high school they had enrolled her in a prestigious Christian Academy. The sky high tuition, they felt would keep the riff raff away. Yes, the McCoy’s were naïve enough to believe money meant class and sophistication.

  Why they thought this environment would be any safer morally than anywhere else is a mystery. Sure they were free from the violence that plagues the inner city schools. However, all those sexually repressed girls in the same place was just as dangerous. It created a sexual energy comparable only to the sun.

  Sex was the topic of the day, every day, all day. There were even a few lesbian couples who dated discreetly. They figured same sex was better than no sex.

  Most of the staff at the school was female. The idea was to create a no dick environment, a green zone if you will. The few males who did work there were filtered by unattractiveness and thoroughly screened. They all passed background checks, even Coach Jenkins.

  Mathew Jenkins was a twenty three year old recent grad o
f a Bible college. He was a junior pastor at one of Atlanta’s mega churches and had excellent references. His only flaw was being a hunk.

  He was so handsome; he almost didn’t get the job. Even the head administrator got a little moist during the interview. Finding no other, or no ugly suitable substitute male or female, Coach Jenkins was hired.

  All the girls as well as half of the staff flirted shamelessly with the well-built P.E. instructor. Coach, however was far too upright pious and honest to return the interest shown to him. He was superman, until Teresa came along shaking her kryptonite.

  “Lord have mercy!” He exclaimed when he saw Teresa stretching her hamstrings before class. The first things he noticed were her big brown legs. She looked like she could leap a building in a single bound.

  A pretty morsel of ass-cheek protruded from the tiny school issued shorts. When she stood upright her full breast made the words “Christian Academy” on the shirt look like a billboard.

  Not only was he hard as a diamond from gawking at the girl but found himself being propelled towards her.

  “Excuse me young lady,” he began cautiously, “When you stretch don’t bounce. Slow ….. and …. Easy,” he demonstrated.

  “Oh okay, thanks!” Teresa gushed, thankful for the advice as well as a chance to see the man who had all the girls buzzing up close and personal.

  “Like this?” she asked, as she slowly bent at the waist until she was touching her toes.

  “Let me see,” he said sliding behind her to get a good view of her round ass. “Perfect!”

  The private lesson came to an abrupt end as the other girls began filing out the locker room. The session was over, but the last lustful gaze they shared said something else had begun. The seeds were sown.

  Coach and student bantered playfully every chance they got. The mutual attraction grew into intense staring matches charged with sexual tones. It was now just a matter of time. The only thing keeping him out of the girl was opportunity. She was as good as fucked first chance he got.