Joe Edd rolled over in his sleep. He dreamt:

“Bite that goddamn pillow,” ordered the 33 year-old Joe Edd as he plowed the whimpering 8th grader with his thick 8-inch cock.

“Unh…Unh…Unnnnh,” moaned Rosie.

His large, brawny & hairy body rested on the back of the femme bottom’s smooth as silk skin. He pounded furiously. It was not their first time and would not be their last. He flipped over the bubble butt twink and plowed him. Joe Edd held the faggot’s ankles as he delivered mighty strokes going balls deep.

“You like this big White cock, sissy boi,” the felon asked.
“Oh my god! Yes, sir,” screamed Rosie as he ran his delicate fingers through the dense, coarse chest hair.
“You’d make a perfect li’l jailhouse bitch! You know that?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Dammit, bitch boi! My cock stays hard thinkin’ bout you!”
“I love how you fuck me!”
“Hell yeah!”

Joe Edd woke up suddenly. He looked down. He had an aching boner. He got up to take a piss.

Instead of climbing back up to his bunk. He ripped the covers off Honey and made his boy wife scoot over.


Pastor Davis Martin and Deacon Horace Wiggins had made it to their destination – a small nondescript ranch-style house in a run-down cookie cutter subdivision. The neighborhood boasted tacky garden gnomes, vehicles on cinder blocks, & Rottweilers chained to trees. They were inside the home being entertained by Miss Mandy and her two current gurls.

Miss Mandy was a voluptuous, plump princess of a man. He’d gotten implants some years ago and sported a set of 44DD boobs. He had a wide ass to match. Miss Mandy always hosted up to three gurls in various stages of gender transition. At present, she had Alexia, a slender flat-chested brown-skinned beauty with a soft, pliable ass; and Jazmin, a round squat bitch with deep brownish-yellow skin.

The two men had visited multiple times before. No one in their hometown or the church had any idea.

Deacon Wiggins had a wife and two grown daughters. The six-one dark-skinned man had a medium complexion, light-brown eyes, and a slim build. He paired off with the big titty Miss Mandy. His dick was already down her throat as he slapped her mammaries..The fag choked on his 8-inch tool.

Pastor Martin sat on the couch with his legs spread apart. Alexia was licking his salty balls while Jazmin rode the man-of-the-cloth’s 7¾-inch chubby. The married preacher squeezed the fat boi’s moobs. Alexia got up stroking her long clit. Davis opened his mouth and let the gorgeous sissy gently feed it to him.

“Fuck me,” whined Jazmin.
“Get it, baby gurl,” the minister moaned.
“Suck this sissy dick, Rev,” Alexia begged.

Horace put Miss Mandy on his stomach and mounted that massive ass. He hammered. “This big booty feel good, baby!”

“Fuck my big fat white ass,” Miss Mandy hollered.
“Yeah, gurl! Take all this Black dick!”
“Oh my god!”

The holy rollers nutted and spent about 15 minutes recuperating. Then, they headed back south to their run-of-the-mills lives with wives, responsibilities, reputations to uphold.


Eleasha opened the door that led to from the utility room into the carport of her 1,300 square foot one-story home. She held up her forefinger to her pursed lips. “They’re sleeping,” she whispered. “Come in. Want something to drink?”

“Water,” the guy wearing the paramedic uniform answered.
“Go on in my bedroom. I’ll be right there.”

She returned with a bottle of water for her guest.

“You know I love when you wear these li’l silk robe, sexy,” smiled the guy with dark auburn spiked hair and green eyes.
“Thank you,” she blushed.
“I’ve missed you, girl!”
“Likewise! But here we are.”
“Yes,” he grinned.

The athletically built dude took a big swig and set the bottle aside. He pulled his cinnamon-colored angel into him. Her full, pillowy breasts felt nice against his sturdy, T-shirted chest.

Eleasha could feel his heart beating so hard it might bust out of his body. “Oh, Josh,” she cooed.

“Yeah, baby,” he checked leaning down to kiss her.

They made out for a while until he placed her on the bed and began eating her pussy. He munched lightly and flicked her clitoris with his tongue. He got up and spent time on her soft, delectable, saggy tits. “You’re so fuckin’ beuatiful!”

“Thank you,” she purred.

Josh pulled out his throbbing 7½-inch hard-on. Eleasha opened wide to suck it down. He let her get it real wet before removing his dick to put it inside her.

Josh tried to control himself, but it had been too long. And, her box was too good. He thrust with speed and determination.

“Oh fuck,” she whined. “Fuck me, white boy!”
“Yeah! Get all this big White cock, you sexy Ebony bitch!”
“Damn! Oh that dick is good!”
“Your pussy is what’s good, girl!”

He flipped them over so that he was on his back and she was riding. “Look at them titties, girl! I love those big ol’ tatas!”

“Oh, Josh! Oh my god!”
“Ride this big White dick! Tell me you wanna have my baby!”
“Yes, Josh! I wanna have your baby!”
“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned.

Josh came hard and his fingers dug into Eleasha’s generous ass.

“I don’t know why you won’t marry me,” he looked at her seriously.
“There’s so much going on right now.”
“I’m not saying tomorrow, but soon. I want you every night.”

Eleasha kissed him and closed her eyes.


A midnight black 2011 Chrysler 300 crept down the road. It passed the house that Coy and his buddy rented. The car kept moving. A few minutes later it circled back.

A leggy, attractive woman with an ash-brown weave pulled into a low ponytail got out of the vehicle. She was dressed in all black. She put on a dark ski cap and snuck around the perimeter of the house.

There was a dog at the back door. Her approach aroused it from a near slumber. She took a sealed plastic bag from her satchel. She opened it and tossed the raw steak to the a****l. That shut him up. It was laced with diazepam & butorphanol, an anti-anxiety med & an opioid pain reliever, respectively. That would sedate the a****l.

The assailant tried the door knob. As she suspected it was unlocked. She moved quietly through the house and found Coy sleeping in front of the blaring TV. She injected a muscle relaxer. The prick startled him.

Coy woke up and attempted to move. He grew frustrated as his body would not cooperate. He heard a voice from behind say, “Don’t struggle. Breathe. It’ll be easier if you relax.” A tall figure appeared in front of him and duct taped his wrists together. “You and I are gonna have a little chat, okay?”

“Yeah,” he slurred.
“About Rosie, okay,” she asked pointing a Ruger .22 claibre pistol with silencer at him.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“I only want the truth. No bullshit,” the melodic voice explained. “We good?”
“Yes,” Coy trembled internally.


As usual, Eleasha met Terrill Goode at the office at 7:30 a.m. This gave her enough time to get her k**s on the school bus each morning. They were not staying in Chiaha County like the special prosecutors. They made the 63-mile drive twice daily – once there, once back.

It was beginning to wear on the other partner in the firm and legal secretary. Freeman St. Louis leaned on Terrill to agree to him hiring a contractor to handle some of their more routine transactions: no-contest divorces, simple wills, real estate transactions, & other routine matters. Terrill was beginning to agree.

“Have you given any more thought to bringing a contract lawyer on board through the end of the trial,” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve thought about it,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Do you want to move forward, boss?”
“I think we should. Freeman really wants it.”
“And I know it’d make Marilyn feel a lot less overwhelmed.”
“The problem is who has time do that?”
“I can post an ad. There’s gotta be a list of law grads looking for contract work at all the law schools or the state bar.”
“You’re the best,” he smiled.


Terrill and Eleasha usually met Chancellor Griffiths at a small cafe on the court square. Today, was no different. The only change was Roy Weldon, the private investigator, was back. The old man suggested the get their food to go and head over to his office.

Terrill agreed.

In the untidy office, they huddled around a solid mahogany conference table. “Judge,” Terrill said. “This thing is nice! You wanna sell it?”

“Everything’s for sale, son! Make me an offer,” he coughed while he laughed.

Roy, a retired special agent from the State Bureau of Investigation, corralled his team members by flicking the lights off and on again. It was a tactic that never failed to shut up a thorng of chatter regardless of the crowd size.

“Alright. My sources tell me that Cpl. Coy Reynolds was taken in last night. He was not arrested. He made a statement and his lawyer allowed them detectives to ask clarifying questions.”

“He lawyered up,” Terrill salivated while stuffing grits into his mouth. “He’s guilty.”
“Or at least our reasonable doubt,” the chancellor added. “Who’s his lawyer?”
“Seneca McLean apparently.”

Terrill looked at Jimmy.

“Not much of a threat. Smart guy, but not slick or shady,” the semi-retiree shared.
“Good,” nodded Terrill. “Do we have any intel on the statement.
“Here’s a copy,” Roy pulled out four copies from his portfolio.
“You’re amazing,” Terrill beamed.
“Good work,” agreed the former chancery court judge.
“Big ups,” Eleasha smiled. “In translation that means ‘good job’,” she giggled.

The team read it. As usual, Terrill spoke first. “We gotta subpoena the GPS records.”
“On it, chief,” Eleasha opened her notebook computer and went to work. “The vehicle assigned to Reynolds.”
“The whole goddamn fleet. Who knows what we’ll turn up.”
“Perfect,” grinned Jimmy. “We probably need to get some time with our client. Make sure he’s holding up okay?”

Roy chimed back in. “My sources say he’s keeping his mouth shut. Hanging out with one the frequent girly boi visitors.”

“As long as he’s not talking about Rosie, I don’t care what he does,” Terrill stood up.


Blank handed a piece of folded paper to Sugarfoot. “Take dis to Joe Edd. Now, bitch!”

Sugarfoot rushed off.

Joe Edd took the note. He opened it. He saw the letter ‘X’. He handed it back to the sissy and said, “Tell Blank I said thanks!”


Brett Potter, Coy’s housemate, clocked out from his 24-hour shift at 9:01 a.m. He jumped in his dark blue 2011 GMC Sierra 1500 Crew Cab pickup truck. He headed home, but not before stopping off to have 19 year-old chick, who was not his girlfriend, suck his fat 6-inch cock.

Brett pulled up to the house. He called out to Coy because the Toyota was in the yard. The dog came running and panting. ‘Is that blood,” Brett though. “What’s the matter, Bruiser? What’s wrong, boy,” he petted the a****l to calm it.

Bruiser led him to Coy’s bedroom. The scene was terrible.

Brett dialed 9-1-1. He walked outside careful to touch nothing else.


“This is Theresa,” she answered the phone.
“Theresa! It’s Sheriff Singleton.”
“What’s up, Jock!”
“There’s been a call out to the residence of Coy Reynolds. It appears he committed suicide.”
“Are you serious,” her mouth dropped.
“Yeah! I’m on my way out there. You and Jessica want a ride?”
“I’ll swing by in ten.”

When they arrived at the scene, there were scores of people milling about. The District Attorney spotted Theresa. He hustled over to her. “Hey, this is crazy, eh?”

“Definitely. Anything yet?”
“The detective is over there, but it looks like he slit his wrist. Left a note.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Briefly. Okay. I’m going to need a copy ASAP.”
“Let’s walk over there.”

The woman leading the investigation said, “It looks pretty cut and dry. He left a note and everything. He confessed to killing Rosie Barker.”

“I want an autopsy,” Theresa said.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the plain-clothes detective with a faux hawk haircut.
“Autopsy,” the mother of two repeated.
“But it was a suicide.”

“I know that’s what it looks like. He was a person of interest in a murder investigation. I want an autopsy done. No questions. Where is Jock?”

Miles yelled for the sheriff.

“Jessica,” Theresa continued. “We need to get a handwriting analysis on the ‘suicide note’.”
“I’ll get ahold of the Bureau of Investigation,” the junior attorney advised.
“What do you wanna do with D’Clinton Lewis,” checked Miles.
“Nothing. At least not till we know more. Unfortunately, we have to disclose this to Mr. Goode.”
“I’m sure that ought to be fun,” he snickered.
“You can certainly make the call since this is in your jurisdiction,” she peered at him.

“Now, Tee. You already said this may be in connection to what you have going. Let’s go with that for now. Plus it’ll get faster priority on the labs and analysis,” he reasoned.

‘Slick, lazy ass motherfucker,’ she thought while agreeing with a nod and fake smile.

“I’m going to call this drama queen now,” she sighed.


Terrill got off the phone. “Coy Reynolds killed himself.”
“What,” the chancellor asked.
“Are you serious,” inquired Eleasha.
“What happened,” Roy wanted to know.

“That was Theresa. They’re out at the scene now. She says there was a suicide note,” he explained.
“What are we waiting for,” Jimmy jumped up. “Let’s get out there!”

They piled into the Escalade and drove out of town.


The driver of the Chrysler had exchange the vehicle for a white 2010 Toyota Camry. She drove to the southern edge of the state and checked into a sleazy roadside motel that only required guests to fill out a registration form. No ID necessary. She parked the import and went into Room 12.

There were guests milling about. Meth whores and crackheads mainly. One dude seemed a little more put together. There was a tap at the door. She paid no attention to it. The person knocked again. She went to the door and yelled, “What?”

“My name Tonka. What you doin’ heah?”
“It’s a motel. I’m in a room. What do you think?”
“You look good. You date?”
“Do we gotta talk through the door? Can I come in?”
“Hang on,” she said.

She opened up and patted her thigh where she had a Kel-Tec P-32 handgun holstered. “What’s up?”
“You fine as hell.”
“I’m not interested. I’m sleepy.”
“I know you a dude and I don’t care.”
“I know what time it is.”
“Get in here,” she pulled his arm.

“I’m not interested,” she reiterated.
“C’mon just suck my dick.”

She considered it. He was older than she, but not bad looking. Caramel skin. Bald head. Stocky. She figured it would get rid of him. “Will you let me sleep afterwards if I do?”

“Yeah, sexy!”
“Sit on the bed. I’ll get changed.”

She undressed in the corner carefully removing the skirt and holster so it wasn’t seen. She was a beanpole. Slender and flat-chested. She did have a tiny rump.

“You sexy as fuck,” he admired.

She sucked his dick which grew to 8½ inches. She decided to see if he wanted more. “Wanna fuck me?”

“Yeah,” he beamed.

Soon, she was on all fours and he was balls deep in her rectum.

“Fuck me,” she cried.
“Take dis big dick, faggit!”
“Oh yeah, nigga!”

After he came, she put him out.

The next morning she awoke and took out her weave. She dressed in boy mode – a slim fit navy suit and black shoes.

He drove the Japanese sedan to a law office. He gave the receptionist a name and passcode. She handed him a thick manila envelope.

He opened it and took out a set of keys. He hopped into a Chevy cargo van and drove off. There was the agreed upon $15,000 in cash money. He headed towards the beach. Soon, he’d be on a boat headed to the Commonwealth of Dominica in the eastern part of Caribbean Sea.

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