Killa Season 2: The Purge Page 12

  The first thing was fuck. Nature played a cruel joke on the handsome 6'4" man by giving him a four-inch dick. And he obviously didn’t know or understand how small he was because he kept trying positions that were out of his dick range.

  The second thing that Mike absolutely, positively could not do was shut the fuck up! Dude began talking as soon as his eyes opened in the morning and ran his mouth until he went to sleep and beyond. If he couldn’t get it all out during the day, he would just talk in his sleep. Some chicks would just leave in the middle of the night to escape the onslaught.

  He talked so much that he often told total strangers all his business. That’s how he ended up in the position he was currently in. No, not hitting Jackie’s perfect ass from behind, but what came along with it.

  ‘Must be going for a new record’ Jackie mused to herself as a glance at the clock indicated he was closing in on two minutes inside of her.

  “Whose pussy is thi…thi….arg!” Big Mike grunted cumming up just short of his own three-minute record. “Whose pussy is this?” he gasped between gulps of air.

  “Mine nigga!” Ill Will announced as he stepped fully into the room.

  “Who the fuck is you?” Mike asked into the barrel of the huge desert eagle staring down at him.

  “Oh Mike this is Will. Will, Mike,” Jackie said as she climbed from under the big man and off the large poster bed.

  “You know him?” Big Mike asked, ignoring the obvious.

  “Yeah that’s Ill Will, my boyfriend. He’s a robber," she replied, pulling her panties back on as Mike, even in the predicament he was in, still watched lustfully.

  “Damn babe, you said dude had a small dick but damn!” Will laughed holding his prey at cannon point.

  “A-yo B, you ain't gotta dis me! If you gone rob me, then rob me. No sense putting a nigga down,” Big Mike said wounded.

  “Tie that cry baby up,” Will demanded as Jackie finished dressing. She quickly complied and secured his hands behind him with plastic ties.

  Jackie then went into his closet and retrieved a satchel full of money that he showed her earlier. Big Mike made that same mistake of showing off his money to every chic he brought home. He bragged about it to 'Janice' the first night he met her and she coyly set him up to see it. That is was she did. Jack and Ill were stick up kids.

  DOPE GIRL 1, 2, & 3

  Cameisha was all girl, but she definitely had balls. She boarded the plane with four ounces of cocaine tucked snuggly in her panties. Taking it on the plane made it a federal charge but that was even better. Any criminal would much rather do time in a comfy fed joint than in a fucked up state prison.

  Tommy seemed to love the synthetic coke but now it was time for some human trials. High Bridge Projects had hundreds of test subjects who would pay to sample the product. When Cameisha deplaned in New York, Deidra was at the gate waiting. She braced herself for a grandma hug. Only a bear hug from an actual grizzly bear packed more power. Plenty of grand kids had been snapped in half by grandma hugs.

  “Cameisha!” Deidra screamed like a groupie at the sight of her beloved granddaughter. She rushed over pretty quickly for a woman her age and scooped her into her arms.

  “Hey Grandma,” Cameisha blurted as all the air left her body.

  Deidra released her death grip and inspected Cameisha. When she was satisfied that she was intact, she led the way out of the terminal. The only baggage she carried was the carry-on since she planned to shop while she was there. What’s a trip to New York without a shopping spree?

  The car service provided a large luxury sedan to ferry Mrs. Forrest to and from the airport. The polite driver stole Cameisha’s heart instantly by being so sweet. The elderly man held the door open for the ladies just like a gentleman is supposed to. The girls sank back into the plush leather seats and made girl talk all the way uptown. Once the car crossed the bridge into the Bronx, Cameisha switched to high alert.

  Again, she regretted not killing E-man instead of just beating him. He of course blamed the attack on some teens in the projects and had them murdered. Of course he wasn't going to admit he got his ass whooped by some girls. He now had to wear a fitted cap to hide all of the stitches he got from the beating that night.

  Meisha stared at the corner of 164th street as the car glided up the hill on Ogden Avenue. She was hoping that he wouldn’t be outside but no such luck. There was E-man and a couple of his cronies having a board meeting on the corner. She could have ducked her head and hid but grandpa never taught that lesson. No surrender, no retreat. Had she been armed, she would have gunned him down on the spot. Since she didn’t have any bullets, she shot daggers instead.

  “A’ight, y’all niggas spread out and cut off all traffic up the hill. If a nigga tryna get high, don’t let him by!” E-man said directing his workers. He was looking in all directions pointing out spots for them to trap when he saw the luxury car. When he and Meisha made eye contact, it took a two count for him to place the face. By three, he pulled a gun from his waist and raised it.

  “Drive!” Cameisha yelled as she pulled her grandmother to the floor and dove on top of her. The driver didn’t need to be told twice and floored the car just as gunfire erupted. He let out a grunt when one of the nine-millimeter rounds went through the door and into his torso. E-man ran out into the street dumping at the car as it sped away. His crew was so stunned by the sudden violence they showed up late and got off a few harmless shots. Harmless or not, they were going to cost them their lives.

  The driver slumped over the wheel once his clock stopped. The car slowed by sideswiping parked cars before coming to a complete stop against a street light.

  “Are you hit?” Cameisha asked frantically searching her grandmother for gunshot wounds.

  “I’m fine, let’s get out of her!” Deidra shouted and got out of the crumpled car. “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know. You ain’t beefing with nobody are you?” Cameisha lied as they rushed towards the projects.

  “Some broad was talking mess cuz I ‘liked’ her man’s picture but…I know one thing; your uncle will get to the bottom of it today!”

  “Wait, Killa is here?” Meisha asked excited to finally meet the myth of a man.

  “That’s right, Killa’s here!”

  KILLA

  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, and no 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 the 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 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, 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 sad enough, she also had to contend with the young man’s vulgar speech and sweaty balls slapping at her chin.

  “Dat’s right! Suck dat dick bitch! Eat it ho!” Lil Red demanded as he humped her face. Technically, it couldn’t be called a blowjob 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 was not a good idea.

  Just hurry, Teresa sighed, and do not…cu….Ewww! He’s cumming 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.”

  LIL MISS MOLLY

  Hazel didn’t fare much better on her first day at Washington High school. It was named after Denzel, not George. Since there were more kids out of school then in, several schools were closed and combined. They closed schools and built prisons.

  The violent, drug infested school was too far to walk to so she walked to the bus stop. Students were given free passes to ride the city buses. Like her brother, she was in some shit before she even reached school.

  “Who dis bitch?” a girl frowned as Hazel approached.

  “Oh she think she cute!” another observed. And she was cute even in the school uniform.

  The city of Atlanta wisely opted to force kids to wear uniforms so students would be dressed uniformly. You know the cool ghetto kids had to pimp their clothes. The boys wore the pants a couple of sizes up and hanging off their asses. The girls hemmed skirts to mid-thigh or low crotch and half button shirts to show cleavage.

  Hazel’s uniform was worn properly at the knee and buttoned to her neck. It was the matching Coach bag and shoes that got her hated on. Then the ratchet girls couldn’t see any weave hump and really got mad. This chick had the nerve to have real hair! How dare her! Bitch!

  Hazel tried to ignore the girls and cracked a half smile at a pretty brown girl covered except for her cute face. The girl cracked a duplicate half smile and turned back to the remembrance of her lord. She used the finger of her right hand and moved her lips.

  The girls loudly ridiculed her the entire ride to school. Having English first period brought a smile to Hazels face. This was her favorite subject, until now that is.

  “Hey y’all, it’s mi mall and I’s yo’ teacher fo’ first period English,” said a young woman who looked like something out of a low budget rap video. She had red weave piled high on her head and dressed like a hoochie mama.

  “You cannot be serious!” Hazel said hotly. “You aren’t even speaking English!”

  "Yes I'm is!” the teacher shot back while moving her neck back and forth like only a ghetto girl can.

  “Dat bitch dink she betta dan us!” a student demanded from the back.

  Hazel may have fared better had she not opened her mouth. Now she had everyone’s full attention. All eyes were now upon the pretty, brown girl, with thick brown hair. The boys all wanted to fuck her and the girls all wanted to fuck her up.

  “Who is you?” the teacher frowned looking at her roster to match a name with the tr
oublemaker. Hazel stood, smiled, and drew inspiration from drama class.

  “Well, I’m Hazel Sanders. 16, from Sugar Hill, Sugar Hill in Gwinnett that is, not the ghetto one,” she said frowning up at the thought.

  “Who dis bitch ‘posed to be?” a girl named Shanadoa said talking to her cheap sandaled feet.

  "Bitch?” Hazel asked indignantly and paid for it instantly.

  “Who you calling a bitch? Bitch!” she said crossing the room like weaved lighting.

  The wild little ghetto girl was on her ass so fast she didn’t know what hit her. Jealous girls always go for the hair and face first. Shanadoa tried to pull a plug out of her hair but the regular salon treatments had it healthy as a horse. The false nail attack on her face was foiled as well. Hazel used her athletic legs to shove the girl across the room. Security rushed in like a prison tactical team and broke it up.

  In a school that actually had a murder rate a fight was no big deal. The combatants were taken to their counselor who told them to shake hands and guided them back to class. The word spread like wild fire and by the end of the day, everyone was waiting on a show down.

  YOLO

  The Lovely Little Lunatic

  Chapter 1

  “Damn it Philomina, did you have to put these so tight!” Thadeous Frank grumbled straining once more to free himself. His wrist and ankles were secured firmly by thick plastic ties to the heavy dining room chair in the extravagantly furnished dining room. It made no sense complaining to her at the opposite end of the long oak table because she was in the same position.

  “She has our baby Thadeous; I did what I was told to do!” his wife shot back in a muted whisper through clenched teeth.