So long in the waiting, and its finally out: the first TONGUE PATROL novel.
Allow me to give you all a brief synopsis into their affairs. The TONGUE PATROL is an outfit of dedicated black men whose purpose it is to fulfill any married white woman's sexual fantasy. They are run from a discreet work office whose boss, DAMIEN DSOUL, is the same individual who runs this blog. It's been my esteemed job to detail some of the happenings of their sexual conquests as well document them in fictional format (the public isn't yet ready for the real deal). I've written numerous shorter works based their activities and have only recently concluded work on a longer piece on their.
My publishers however haven't been doing credible justice regarding this. Obviously some nut in the editorial workshop has slashed a lot of pages and documented notes from the book. As soon as I've gotten myself a Tax ID number, I will personally endeavor to have my library made in printed copy. For now, I ask you to bear with me and enjoy the excerpt. For the book, visit the link below:
Damien Dsoul's Library: http://www.a1adultebooks.com/ebooks/b4744-the-tongue-patrol-sales-rep.htm
http://www.a1adultebooks.com/ebooks/a795.htm
“Excuse me,” she said to one of the men lifting the bulky stuff towards her front door. There was a tarp covering whatever it was they were lifting so she couldn’t tell what it was. The driver of the truck came over to meet with her, taking his hat off his head. He was a tall black man with a bald head, though he appeared to be somewhere in his early to mid-thirties. He grinned at her as he came to a stop before her, holding a clipboard in his hand. He and his two colleagues both wore grey coveralls.
“Excuse me, but … who are you people? And what is this you’re bringing into my home?”
“Hello, ma’am,” the bald-headed man smiled at her, holding up the clipboard. “My name’s Booker, and we’re with the Southside Moving company. It says here your husband purchased some recent furniture which is what we’re bringing here for him. Would you know if he’s around?”
“No, my husband isn’t here,” she said. “Are you sure about this—my husband never mentioned anything to me about buying any furniture.”
“It says so right here, ma’am. Here, take a look for yourself.”
Booker presented her with the manifest on the clipboard. Edith was looking at it, unaware that the other two black men—Jones and Curtis—had dropped the item they’d been lifting and both men came at her from behind. Edith gave a sudden cry as she felt herself suddenly lifted off her feet. Booker, as if well prepared for some movement, took hold of her legs and together he and Jones carted her into the house while Curtis dragged in the item they had been lifting into the house and closed the door and locked it.
Edith was struggling to be free, screaming even though the men wrapped a hand around her mouth and snapped at her to be quiet or else. She was shaking and mumbling under her breath as they carried her up the stairs and into the master bedroom.
The closet door cracked an inch open and the man hiding inside with a camcorder in his hands watched with mute excitement at the sight of the men bringing in the woman and dumping her on the bed. One of them—Jones—held her arms down with his colleagues hurriedly unzipped their coveralls and stood there in their briefs with their erection sticking out. The fear that came upon Edith was genuine as she feared she was about to be raped.
“Please … please … don’t ******* … don’t ******* me, please,” she whimpered.
The three black men gazed down at her and erupted with laughter. Two of them began undoing the buttons of her jacket while the other still held her down from struggling.
“We ain’t here to ******* you, bitch!” spat Curtis. “Just here to get some fun with your white ass.”
One of the men pushed her cotton panties to the side, enough for one of his colleague to investigate the three day growth of pubic hair starting to grow like freshly cut grass around her crotch. The man sucked air through his teeth as he held her leg apart and licked two of his fingers and slid them into her coochie. Edith howled from the mistreatment and kept struggling to be free from their grasp but that was impossible. The other brother too dipped his finger into her cunt. Now there were three fingers fucking her silly and though she was gasping, her body too was responding to their treatment. The one who now held her arms, Booker, took a cloth and wrapped it around her arms and tied the other end at the bed’s head post.
“You’d best shut that trap of your up, bitch!” he growled at her. “Least you get me and my boys here upset.”
Edith knew she was beat, that nothing was going to stop the three men from having their way with her. She was still whimpering with fright as Curtis pulled her skirt and panties off her legs, leaving her lower body naked except for the pantyhose she had on. He lay on his face and pressed his lips on her cunt’s open lips. She beat her legs like a mad drum on the bed but Booker and Jones now held up her legs, making it impossible to fight the madness that was now consuming her. Edith thought she was still screaming aloud, except the words escaping her lips didn’t sound anywhere close to being screams at all. Instead they sounded more like she was having moaning fits. Her ass lifted up from the bed and Curtis dug into her, drilling his tongue in and out of her copious wet pussy. It sent back shards of stabbing delight back at her. She was now beating her head from side to side, panting like a bitch in wanton heat.
“Oh, she’s a horny slut,” murmured Curtis while his finger kept probing her cunt, going either way and out while Jones pinched the tip of her labia lips together, getting her further excited with the rush of lust and wanton elation that now overshadowed her.
“Yeah, the bitch just couldn’t wait to meet three brothers, could she,” Jones crackled.
“Alright bitch,” said Booker, who held the thick end of his shaft against her face; pre-cum dripped down on her cheek. “Let’s see you open those pretty lips of yours and take this dick! And you’d better not think of biting me.”
Errol was in the dark confines of the bed room closet with the lens of his video camera aimed at what was happening on the bed. One of the men stood next to his wife’s head, rudely thrusting his cock into her mouth. From where he hid, he easily caught the sound of her muffled, coughing grunts. The other was eating out her pussy while his partner stood at her other side stroking his dick. Soon the one who’d had his head down her crotch stood up and Errol watched with mounting excitement as he introduced his cock into his wife’s pussy and started thrusting his waistline into her. The men pulled her into the centre of the bed and the one fucking her kept on pounding away while his brothers watched. They laughed and joust their buddy and hi-fived each other while he kept on driving his pounder between the white woman’s legs which they held open for her. Errol listened in on their conversation, loved how it made him stroke his cock more.
Want the rest? Go here: http://www.blackmastershango.com/2012/07/the-tongue-patrol-have-arrived.html
