GOLDIE PART 4 – FUCKING A PERSIAN’S WIFE AND ATTACKED BY A BEARDED ASSASSIN
I’m sitting here in my cell thinking about why I’ve been convicted of murder. I just don’t get it. I never killed the man, I’ve never killed anyone. Sure, I was seen together with him on the last day he was seen alive, but what does that prove? Nobody has ever been found a dead body. I was tested for gun residue, blood, DNA and nothing came up, yet here I am, waiting on death row for my turn to die.
Oh well, I won’t bore you with my tears, I’m a big boy, I’m golden. Fuck the world, I wanna get off, off to another planet, another world, out of this prison before i go crazy in here. Wasn’t there a film with Richard Pryor called “Stir Crazy?” Something about going crazy in jail. Shit, that might as well have been me. But fuck it, I guess I gotta be grateful, my ACLU liberal bond lawyer still comes by my cell to see me, she say’s she is getting an appeal ready that she thinks will fly. Shit, I hope so. I do get off on her wonderful Purell hand jobs but I’d much rather be fucking her on a bed somewhere without my feet in chains. And then there is my shrink, if you recall, I gotta bend over and tongue-cream her pussy every week or so to keep her interested in my mental health as well as her hairy puss. I guess she ain’t liberal enough to shave that monster. And they think you can relax on death row? Not a fuck’in chance man!
Jesus, please help me, I’m still going to church on Sundays and here they’ve got me singing in the choir. Of course I’m chained up like a circus bear, Reverend Mandrake Pepper runs that gig, he was a deacon in a Baptist church outside of New Orleans before he got sent up on charges of misappropriation of the church charity fund and misconduct with a few Sunday School moms who he impregnated. He claims it was his twin brother who did the dirty deed and he claims to be gay. I don’t know what the real truth is but he was in the shower near me last Wednesday and seemed to have had trouble keeping his eyes off my mandrake root, all golden and shiny as I soaped it up for as long as it takes to sprinkle the damp floor with a bit of seed without getting caught by the guards.
He kept moving closer to me and just about after I spunked off, he slipped in the damp cum spot I’d nefariously deposited on the slick tile floor and fell over. Lucky for him I grabbed him before his head hit the hard floor but at that same moment he’d already grabbed onto my stiff cock like it was a safety handle to cushion his fall. Of course that doesn’t make him gay but it don’t prove he was swizzled by this twin brother that nobody’s ever seen either. I’m keeping an open mind on that rowdy man of God, I’m pray’in that there is a twin bruder, one who ain’t gay.
Let me fill ya in on what happened after the “Pizza Party” when Marg opened the door unexpectedly and saw me behind her dad with my cock buried in his ass. Naturally that little scene caused our break up. It took me a little while to find a new job. Of course I wasn’t stupid enough to ask for any recommendations. My previous two jobs had ended under circumstances you would not want to write down on a job application. So I went down to the school board and asked about taking a part time job as a school crossing guard while I continued to look for a full time job.
This part time gig meant I had to get up early and walk over to Hyde Street where the old Wilson School is located. Who the fuck was Wilson? Wilson Pickett I guess. They told me I had to carry a big yellow sign nailed onto a two by four that my, crossing guard trainer said would slow down the passing vehicles and allow me to walk the kids across that busy intersection forty-five minutes before the school opening and an hour after the school closed. The stragglers were the kids who liked kırklareli escort playing in the school playground before coming home.
A lot of the kids I went to high school with were now married with children of their own. It should have been no surprise that I knew a whole bunch of the “baby mama’s” who walked their tikes to the school. Besides Mabel and Sharina who had two kids each and Waneta who had five, each of a different color, there was a Persian girl, Nara, who I remembered from school, in fact she sat behind me in two classes. She must have become a devout religious follower as now she always wore a headscarf and a birka and greeted me with “Salami Aleikum” or something like that.
Nara had two little kids, a boy and a girl, both with curly hair, who she walked to school and returned in the afternoon, always early, to pick them up. She was obviously a good mother. It was during the afternoon that she’d stop to talk while waiting for the 3:30 bell that sounded its short nasty beeping sound.
She told me she had lived in Iran for several years after graduation and had begun to attended college there where she married an Iranian optician. Thinking she’d found true love she quickly became pregnant and had the two twins. About that time she learned that her husband had two other wives who lived with his parents thirty miles away on a pomegranate farm. Her own parents back in the USA wanted her to be here, near them in Texas. Her husband was still waiting for a resident visa to leave Iran and come here but Trump’s politics being what they are, the wait was long and frustrating and in the end perhaps impossible. She was fearful he would take a fourth wife back there if the visa did not arrive soon and if he did there was no chance for their marriage. At the same time I got the feeling that she might also be rethinking her own marital plans.
I was surprised when she invited me to follow her home one afternoon so she could show me photos of what Iran looked like and who were her family there. When we arrive back a t her parents home with the twins, she took me to the back of the house where there was a staircase that went down to the basement.
“You wait here and I’ll take the kids round front for their grandma to care for them.”
When Nara burst through the door about ten minutes later she was still wearing that dark robe that covered her from head to foot, but her arms were not visible and I soon saw the reason for that. When she threw open the robe I could see she was carrying a bottle of beer in each hand. The head scarf was now missing and she threw the robe onto the sofa. She was wearing a loose red silk blouse that showed off her good sized tits and those short shorts that are so high up you can just about see her ass crack.
“Some music,” she said, “would be nice.”
I nodded and she walked across the room and opened a dark brown wooden door to a huge entertainment center, pushed a few buttons and it was as if music was coming from every corner of the room. She had tuned in some Marvin Gaye, one of my favorite soul singers. We both flicked the loose tops off the beer bottles and chilled, grooving to “Dock of the Bay,” as she moved closer to me on the leather sofa.
Then she got up and walked over to the wall where I had laid my yellow stop sign with my jacket and gloves and picked up my sign and started waving it around to the around to the music. Then after that strange dance she threw it into the corner and sat down again next to me and drained what remained of the bottle she’d left on the coffee table. I had noticed the bottles were both opened when she carried them down to us but when I took a taste to keep her company it didn’t taste like beer, it had a sweet liquorice flavor.
“What afyon escort is this?”
“Oh it’s not just beer, I mixed in some Ouzo, it’s a mid eastern drink, some call it Arak, they make it out of anise and different spices and it is quite potent. The Iranians say it will give an old man a hard-on,” with that she giggled and blushed.
“Well it’s quite good.”
“Be careful,” and her voice was a little slurred, “it will get you drun-kkk ,” she said.
Before I could take another taste she laid down on the sofa where I was sitting and put her head in my lap.
“You wanna fool around Goldie?” She sounded like we were still in high school.
“But Nara, you are a married woman with two young children.”
“Yeah, but I’m not dead yet, I haven’t had sex in so long I feel like they’ve sewed up my vagina.”
“They do that shit over there, don’t they?”
She didn’t answer, “So what, you think my pussy is stretched out now and I’m unattractive. Is that why you don’t want to make love to me?”
“Oh no, not at all, I find you quite attractive,” and as if to add emphasis at that very moment my cock was swelling up and pushing against the back of her head.”
“Is that what I think it is, Mr. Gooooldie?”
She was obviously a little drunk.
“Oops, I’m sorry Nara.”
“You better not be sorry,” she said as she rolled over and started licking the outside of my pants
where the imprint of my cock was clearly resolved.
“Nara, what are you doing?”
“Oh you are right, I should go for it and with that she slowly unzipped my pants and reached inside to play with my balls.”
“I didn’t know what to say, what she was doing with her fingers was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
“In Persia we are taught to cradle and vibrate a man’s balls to give him pleasure and to show him we are ready to open our legs for him.”
“Well you sure learned that real well, but Nara, don’t…”
And I could see no way I was going to convince he that this inappropriate behavior was not going to offer her the end result she desired. I was loving what she was doing and I was afraid to add to her insecurities by refusing to answer her needs.
“Oh Goldie, I’m so horny, I use a shampoo bottle as a dildo every night and sometimes before I get up in the morning, but I need a real cock, any cock, your cock and now I’m embarrassed that I told you that” and she started giving my dick tongue kisses like I’d never felt before, little sucking bites up and down the shaft.
I thought inappropriately of Marg, the pizza girl, and how well she sucked cock but I have to admit, although pizza girl sure knew how to suck cock, what Nara was doing was something else indeed, her tongue had become a subsonic vibrator.”
.
“Does this feel good Goldie, is this the first time for you?”
“Oh yeah,” I wasn’t going to say my cock had been in other women’s mouths, but now she was too far into it for me to even think of a premature exit.
I rolled her over her belly and reached down and realized she was not wearing any underwear. I twisted so I could “69” her, a fair response to all she was doing with her mouth and she spread her legs wide and wrapped them around my head, and I knew there was no stopping us now.
I licked and sucked her clit for a long time, sucking it in and out as if I was masturbating her with my tongue and lips. Her clit like a little triangular sponge grew larger as she responded.
“Then she released my head and rolled over.
“What are you doing, changing your mind?”
“Oh no,” she laughed, “in Persia my husband liked to do it doggie style.”
“So Persians love dogs?”
“No not really, what they love is pussy, they love wet warm vageegee, amasya escort as Oprah calls it.”
“Me too,” I said, as I shifted behind her big ass and pushed hard into her wet cunt.
Nara moaned her assent, “fuck my cunt hard, smack your big balls against my ass.”
“Should I be using a condom or should I pull out before cumming?”
“Oh no, we don’t believe in birth control, just fuck me, fuck me good, fuck me hard, harder, fuck my husband and fuck his two wives I didn’t learn of until after he got me pregnant and make me a baby, a golden baby with a golden cock, just like you. And Goldie baby, while you are fucking me stick your thumb up my ass like Housan always does.”
So I did as she asked, It had been a few weeks since I’d boffed anyone and I had to get that vision of Mario’s hairy ass out of my mind so I went crazy, I fucked her with every ounce of strength, crashing into her, my big balls bouncing off her hot ass,my cock reaming her to depths I don’t’ think she’d experienced except in childbirth, and yes, my big fat thumb stuffed securely up her ass and then I came in her.
But I never stopped fucking her until I came a second time. She lay there in a daze, my large cum wad pooling between her legs as it leaked out onto the creases on the leather sofa’s cushion, right where the upholstery button was sort of floating in a sea of sperm and pussy juice. I lay there for the longest time without moving. Then I realized Nara hadn’t moaned or said anything since before I gave her my second load, was she asleep or dead?
I poked her, I felt her neck for a pulse, I shook her, Oh my God, did I fuck her to death? Is such a thing possible?
Finally she came too,
“Oh Goldie, soooooo gooooood and she fell back asleep.”
By now I was wide awake so I raised myself off of her bountiful ass. I realized during this whole love making session I’d never even touched her ample breasts. Her light brown ass was so nice and warm so I leaned forward and kissed it. I ran my hands over her full breasts wondering how I’d missed them earlier. Then I got up and dressed.
Before leaving I used her robe to cover her. Then I picked up my yellow stop sign and made my way quietly out the door, up the basement stairs and rested a few minutes against the iron railing to catch my breath, then on to home. The moon was rising and in a few minutes the sky had gone from orange to black, the yellow moon hidden behind dark clouds.
After a while I round hear footsteps behind me, I realized some guy with a foot long beard was following me. I picked up my pace and so did he. I started to jog and so did he. There was no question that he seemed to be following me. As I got closer to the old closed supermarket
I looked back to see he was trying hard to catch up with me. I realized I was not going to outrun him so going on the offensive I ducked into a dark alley and waited quietly. Slowly I could hear the dark figure’s footsteps. As he approached, I ready myself for combat.
Who was this dark villain? Sent by Ko-mean-i, or what ever his name was to defend the Muslim girl’s honor. It was do or die, in an instant he sprinted past where I was hiding and as he passed I jumped out behind him and like Samson of the Israelites, I smote him a heavy blow over the head with my yellow sign.
He fell to the floor and began crying, hardly the behavior of an assassin. Then I realized in his hands he was carrying my yellow gloves, they must have fallen out of my jacket pocket. It was Hamid, Nara’s brother who she sent after me to return my gloves, was I embarrassed and devastated?
I was so upset I confessed,
“Forgive me, I thought you were an assassin.”
“Why would I hurt you?” said Hamid.
“Because I just fucked your sister,-uh twice,” I stupidly blurted out.
“You fuck-a my sister,” said Hamid, “I kill you!”
I had no choice, I hit him once more with the sign and ran like hell to get away, I could hear his Iranian curses even into the next block. And as for his threat to kill me, I regret that Hamid ended up as the jury foreman in my trial.