Why Reading An Excerpt From The #1 Best-Selling-Of-All-Time, Self-Published Novel Will Make You Buy It On Amazon.
The female with hair as black as these letters you’re reading high-jumped out of the jacuzzi and trotted her small feet over to the stack of towels. Muhammad avoided staring, as best as he could, but she was irresistible to the senses. He tried to focus on the water bubbling around his chest, but his vision kept orbiting her.
“Come on. Do it with me.” He heard this and dashed his eyes up and saw her bending forward and roughly drying her hair that touched the floor. Water flowed down her waist and curved sharply over her big, fat-round tail. The sight of a wet black thong bikini between her asscheeks captured the deeply-religious man’s attention. I ask you God, give me a sign my thoughts for this woman are not opposed to any of your commandments. Have her not look at me and I will not look at her.
The noirette’s head tilted and with one eye fluttered a thick eyelash. The model’s wink forced Muhammad into action and he had joined her at the brightly lit table so fast, it was like he could teleport. God may disapprove, but I like her, he said to himself. Muhammad removed the lid and pulled the ceramic spoon up to his nose. He sniffed. The woman with black hair that touched her ass watched him with doe eyes. She slowly took the spoon from his hand. Muhammad studied her movements. She resembled a doll to him, a doll with beautiful breasts. The spoon hovered next to her perfectly-sized nostril. He observed her snort.
“This spoon’s tiny.” She snorted a second and taller spoonful without asking.
“It doesn’t even serve a bump, just half of one. Just a bu.” The model’s soft chin, flawless skin over her high cheek bones were all utterly feminine to Muhammad, as he listened to her ramblings.
“I’m taking a bump that makes me wish I had a Goddamn seatbelt on.” She dipped the spoon in the powder a third time and blasted it up her nose hole. She shoveled out a fourth hit and vacuumed it up into her dome. The spoon moved up and down, again and again, and moved with the speed of a six-year-old devouring a bowl of their favorite sugary-breakfast cereal.
However, to the ex-champ while she glowed with womanliness, at the same time her personality was aggressive. Everything about her became dazzling and Muhammad liked it. Destiny saw his eyes were dilated and how they kept checking out her lips and nose. She winked again and blew him a kiss, because Muhammad had so easily put all his cards on the table. This woman could recognize the tracks of infatuation in the dark.
“Do you talk?” He stopped ogling her flesh and collected his thoughts.
“I left my drink over here.” He raced over to grab it. With his bottle at his lips, he walked back toward her. She gently bit on her own thumb while staring at Muhammad. He smiled at her smile, as the voice of Dominic came over the wireless speakers.
“Neighbors, revelers, and heathens. This is your host with the most. Show time’s in thirty minutes. We have a special guest of honor. He will be the lead. Muhammad Hussein please come to the theatre as soon as possible. Gamers prepare for battle.”
“That’s me.”
“You’re the lead?”
“Yeah. I gotta go.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“What do you mean?” She rubbed together her keloided wrists and avoided his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“I’ll find you after this so we can continue chatting.”
“No you won’t.” Muhammad rocked back his head and frowned.
“Because I’ll find you. Later gator.”
“Aright.” Muhammad toweled himself off, shirted-up, and accepted Dominic’s invite from his wrist phone. A green arrow floated in his Oculus lens, directing him toward the gaming theatre.
Once Muhammad had navigated through the maze of hallways and rooms, he reached Dominic’s gaming theatre. Inside the main entry, he received a one-piece suit. Muhammad dressed over his street clothes and circled the young men in a huddle. He overheard the gamers discussing strategies for their upcoming fight, retelling one another the tale of earning a past medal, and describing the pillaging of a town from a previous campaign. Dominic was in the center, pepping up his gaming soldiers. Dominic’s face lit up when he spotted, between shoulders, The Modest Mongoose pacing around the men.
“Champ. Come here. Get in here.” Muhammad casually plowed through the group.
“Everyone. Listen. Is everyone here?”
“All players are accounted.” Baldwin shouted over the crowd, looking at his computer tablet.
“This is Muhammad, obviously.” Dominic’s arm lay on Muhammad’s shoulders.
“He’s leading us. Come Champ. Let me show you where the magic happens.” He led Muhammad and the competitors into the gaming theatre. This room was the size of a small gymnasium.
“Have you played much mixed reality games?”
“I have a theatre at home. But, friends use it more than me.”
“Not in my house. I have the best theatre in the world. Fifty million viewers are gonna tune in and watch tonight.” Dominic stopped walking. He locked eyes with Muhammad and paralleled his ten fingers and pointed them at Muhammad, “It is the best.” He continued walking.
“Porn is my business. Gaming is my passion.” Muhammad stepped over a battle axe. He saw various laser guns piled up on the matted floor, next to a Conestoga wagon under the black light.
“I have two techs working full time to keep all the applications updated and my network links connected. They just installed the Turing 8 dash D N’Airy One Homo Fab processor, the highest nuclear spin on the market and fastest electron spin money can buy. And the best news I bought these headsets yesterday.” A purple curtain rose to show the gamers a dozen head sets, resting on a Mahogany tabletop, under a spotlight. The gamers thrashed their arms, shook hands like they were wet, and chest bumped. One kid went hopping away like a damn bunny. In the group, a stocky thick-necked gamer was crying and taking in too much air, “Thank you. Thank you.” He went to pick up the GX 1, however, before getting his dick beaters on the mixed-reality headset collapsed to the floor.
“Hmm? Nick’s out. Anyway, yes I sure did buy these for you all. I expect all of you to win because of it.”
“Dominic you da’ man,” a pimply-faced gamer with a shaved head said, stepping over the unconscious man.
“Richard’s gonna suck you off,” another gamer said in jest.
“Yeah he bought us GX 1s…” Richard looked up from the GX 1 in his hand, “…I’d def give him the best head eva’ for it.”
“No need for the blowjob Richard. Win tonight that’s all. There are whales betting on you men storming that castle and when you do, not if, no BJ could compare, even one from Richard.” Richard’s skin on his cheeks and his zits blended into one color, as he blushed.
“Is this bigger than the siege of Hemilum Peninsula?”
“Oh yes. This will make us far richer, especially with our double action here.” Dominic elevated on his toes to wrap his arm over Muhammad.
“Castle Wars is gonna be mint, cuz of these,” the man with red spots on his face said.
“You’re lucky Champ. You get to use these on their debut night. Four thousand dots per inch,” Dominic said.
“That’s right. You won’t see em.” Muhammad heard a gamer say.
“Is that what were playing the game with?” Muhammad asked.
“Yes.”
“The story unfolds tonight with our enemies scheduled to receive a shipment of gold, weapons, and sex slaves,” Dominic spoke in a deep voice. A player in the pack wolf whistled. It was deafening but the players laughed loudly because why not have fun when you’re pillaging a virtual world with real life ramifications.
“Let’s get them back for taking our home. We have fifteen minutes. Muhammad. You will be given the position of lead.” Dominic handed Muhammad the lightweight, coral-tinted goggles and webbed gloves.
“You’ve never played, but don’t worry. You’ll be guided the whole way. Let’s go.” The competitors placed the memory-knit strap around the base of their skulls and lengthened it over the top of their heads. Muhammad copied them and fit the lens snug on his face. Muhammad tapped the button with a glyph of the numbers one and zero by his ears. The device powered on and the game started. An advertisement by the game’s producer of another game appeared, followed by an introduction to the player’s avatars. Muhammad’s equilibrium was thrown off as he walked around the virtual steppe and M.R. gaming theatre. A bubble popped up in his vision. It instructed Muhammad to ask these questions to the group, ‘How many want to intercept the caravan and loot it, then return to camp? How many want to intercept the caravan, murder their defenses, disguise themselves in their gear, then proceed to the enemy castle?’ The last option he presented to the gamers was to wait until news from scouts returned? The players huddled around Muhammad, as the wind blew at their feet. Muhammad removed the goggles to look at the young men debating amongst each other and contrasted their avatars in the game with their real faces. The towering beast with life-like bat wings and horns was actually Nick. A stone and mud face was in reality, Richard’s mug. The waving grass at his feet was actually the rubber mat and the air currents, originated from commercial-sized fans. Muhammad tossed his goggles back over his goofy dome to play the game. The team finished voting and their decision was to charge the castle, under a false front of delivering goods.
So, our fearless hero led the assault on the caravan of noob players and bots. After multiple challenges, Dominic’s players conquered the caravan and those opponents who could escape, were chased into the night. Thus, to reward his A-team for successfully completing the mission, Dominic called in the sex-slaves, after the most-valuable gamers selected this option. The brunette and red-head, from the jacuzzi, stepped down from a prison wagon. Men in nasal helmets collared the hybrid cat and hybrid wolf. Two furry creatures, both with soft jawlines and big eyes, were marched through camp on leashes. Offline, the hoes were dressed head to toe in bodysuits and voluntarily walked through the gaming theatre. They were delivered, this night, to only three horndogs in front of a tent. Nick, who’d earlier fainted, slapped his she-wolf’s ass and Richard fondled the purple cat’s tits. The women were shoved inside the tent. The third player with tusks, a snout, and a goatee folded his bloody arms and waited outside, for the arrival of his gameistress. The groaning, meowing, and howling finally made the gargoyle peep inside, where he witnessed the bright-eyed purple cat lying on a bed, licking the golem’s finger. Next to Crystal and Richard was the she-wolf with an hourglass figure sliding a condom down the Jersey Devil’s horse-sized erection, as he stroked her furry gray tail into the air.
The grouchy gargoyle aggressively shut the flap, spun around, and shouted, “Where the hell is my slave?” Smoke and cinders blew from his mouth and were swept away by the wind.
“Dominic!”
“Destiny? Get to your station!” Dominic’s voice boomed from the cloudy night sky, within the game.
“Go to hell. I’m not sucking off a puny gremlin dick again,” shouted a feminine voice. It was a green-eyed cat in a T-back thong and bra, sitting behind bars with white, furry arms folded. Muhammad removed his goggles and there inside a real mobile prison was the chick from Alaska, as he suspected.
“Destiny you are nothing but trouble. You want me to fire you in front of the world?” Dominic asked.
“No. Cuz I quit.” Muhammad placed his goggles on the foam floor. The gargoyle with golden hoop earrings flexed his biceps and screamed, “I captured the goddamn Wizard of Iceni!”
“Oh that cat tongue! Suck it.” He heard from inside the tent, accompanied by sounds of what could easily be misconstrued as someone finishing a bowl of pho. The gargoyle clawed at his hair and crushed his teeth.
“Am I getting pussy Dominic!?”
“Shut up out there,” the golem said. The gargoyle growled and shook his fist, thumb out, “Dominic you suck!”
“I’m handling this. Destiny. You can’t leave,” Dominic shouted. Muhammad walked past the players and clear hands, which were men and women paid to set up props. Muhammad walked her out of the theatre into the corridor.
“So you are a gameistress?” he asked, tossing back his hood. She pulled the lime-green headgear down to reveal her face and long black hair.
“You? I don’t need you out here.”
“You sure?” She shook her heavy hair and it draped over her waist.
“Yeah.”
“You just quit your job.”
“I’ve quit better paying jobs.”
“But don’t you care? What are you gonna do?”
“Dance.”
“I’ll go.”
The ballroom was nearing, because each step forward amplified the music and heated the air. Destiny screamed something to Muhammad. The ex-champ was a few paces behind her and couldn’t hear, so he read the text on his lens,
‘I’ll suck your dick for all that coke Zaddy.’
He read the text in his vision again and again. He knew she was joking.
“You’re funny. What’s your name?”
“What?” She yelled. He cupped his mouth next to her ear, “I’ll give it to you if you tell me your name?”
“Destiny. You’re so sweet.”
“Destiny.” Muhammad repeated her name and read the letters of her name in his vision. She kicked the door open and grabbed his hand and led the way into the ballroom. He felt a large rock on her finger and thought, she must have money to afford a ring that big. Muhammad instinctively followed her peaches into the wall of people. Here, under black lights, the faces of high society were hidden behind masks, or covered in thousands of tiny, sparkling pieces of plastic or painted with glowing pigments.
“This song goes out to Muhammad. He’s our guest of honor. Give that man room on my dance floor y’all. He’s still the champ in all our hearts.” Muhammad didn’t know this, but every fan of the AGC waved their hands toward the DJ. Destiny charged deeper through the crowd of revelers, as the bass vibrated through the people’s bones. Lasers pulsed across hands and arms and under the black lights, Destiny was instantly recognized as a gameistress, because of her outfit. Dudes stopped grinding into chicks to witness this woman, whose long legs, bootylicious ass, and tiny waist resembled an ant walking upright. Destiny plowed into a masked man screwing a masked slut in the center of the ballroom. The female was thrown off balance and dropped her neon-painted rabbit onto the dance floor. The radioactive-looking critter bounced away, as the exhibitionists resumed their show. Destiny and the fighter were now posted up in their spot. The beat’s frequency faded into silence, the only noise was people screaming for a moment. Suddenly, the music crescendoed and confetti dropped from the ceiling. A flood of visual and auditory stimulation hit its high water mark and at this moment the people danced, like glittery, fluorescent-painted honeybees cracked out on nectar.
Muhammad kept his two eyes on Destiny’s hips, as they moved in the shape of an infinity loop. He reached out to touch her torso, but froze. I’m married, Limp Dick thought. There’s nothing wrong with dancing on the other hand, he continued in his monologue. Destiny twerked her ass cheeks up and down, like a two-stroke turbocharged diesel engine. Muhammad slowly extended his left hand and touched her elbow, like an ape beneath a tree grasping the lowest fruit. He pulled her closer and she didn’t resist. He rested his cheek on her hairless cheek. She bent over and aimed her moist axe wound toward him. Muhammad balled up her black hair and tugged on it, until her glutes pinched his crotch. Muhammad slid his hands over her butt. Gripping her cheeks with both hands was exhilarating and it made him crave more of her. Muhammad felt the heat from her meat radiating between his fingers. He had never done this with another woman. He slid his hands to the sides of her shimmying hips.
Destiny’s green suit was tight, revealing every curve of her body. The Alaskan-native woman raised Muhammad’s hands to the sky. He looked up and saw between the blackness and flashes of a strobe light a blonde model with angel wings on a wooden seat. She was gradually swinging across the room with trapeze wires, delivering to the wealthiest guests a silver platter full of cocaine, etorphine, uppers, DiPT, and ampoules of DMHP. Basically, shit a bunch of animals caged behind a VIP fence needed to heat up their night before the cold dawn arrived.
One woman in the pen licked her lips, as the party platter came in hot. A man in the know, boosted his buddy off his palm. His friend swiped at the tray, but missed. This army of crunks opened their hands in the hopes of receiving the gifts. Instantly, a man in a lizard-leather shirt and dope mustache closed the gap on this tiny blonde. The klepto mounted the back of the tallest dude, leaped off his shoulder, snagged the platter, and with the athleticism of a Caucasian Dave Brown, darted away untouched and out of sight. The gift platter was before the merrymakers so long and vanished so quickly. Awlll, how sad. The horrified model fell, like a female Icarus. The crowd of civilized and wealthy guests without hesitation began ripping off her clothes and beating her like a harp seal. The rest of high society’s wasted luminaries were jawing each other, to get their hands on the person whom they believed deserved their aggression.
Far from this pandemonium, the oblivious disc jockey in tinted smart glasses sucked on a lollypop and dripped sweat on his keyboard and sequencers. The DJ screamed, “Hellll Yuuuuh! Get down or get up! Move! Move! Move! Move toward your dreams!” The melody of his voice hypnotized the people. Every trisexual fused together as the evening hit full stride.
Meanwhile, Muhammad gazed back down at Destiny. Only she was in his focus. He impulsively fondled her firm breasts. These rib cushions barely fit in his hands and Muhammad waited for her to remove his hands. Destiny’s booty flew into his crotch and bounced off it, like her ass was invented by an absent-minded professor. After Destiny impressed her butt’s mark in Muhammad’s groin, he spun her around and raised her chin up to his chin. Muhammad thought of shocking her with a kiss. If she is permitting me to molest her this much, it should not be a problem, he thought. She slid her hand on his junk. The two drew closer, but at a cunt hair’s width from him, she whipped back her soft lips.
Now, a little minor note to mention at this point in time. Their encounter was seen by a fly, who broadcasted his sight through a ghost channel and onto an onion network, where it was uploaded by a shit ton of constantly vanishing web hosts. So that everything going on in Dominic’s party, including Muhammad’s peck, would be experienced by hundreds of thousands of bachelors, married men, and Angelica.
Muhammad’s wife leaned forward and tossed away the teddy bear he won her on their second date. The brown plush toy, holding a sword and wearing a black shirt with an American flag, landed nose first on the carpet.
“God has willed it,” a kid’s voice said from the bear. Searing into Angelica’s vision was her man, dancing with a strange woman. Angelica immediately sized up the woman for being white and having bigger breasts than her and a much nicer butt. She never had this feeling in her life, because she had been raised to be a virgin until marriage. This daughter of a congressman was confused about her own emotions. Why, why would he be kissing a woman and allowing her body to be grinding on his like that? she asked. This allegedly-faithful man of hers was giving his affections and more, to a woman that resembled a mattress actress. Angelica’s wrist phone was on the bed. She spoke to it, “Call…” she paused to stare at the live-streaming video recording of calves, sparkling high-heels, and dress shoes scrambling away from the lens, for at that moment security swatted the fly.
She continued, “Samantha.” The phone rang. Her friend answered the phone.
“Sup boo?”
“Samantha. Oh my… I just… I just… saw Muhammad kissing a girl.”
“What? Where?” Angelica pressed her hand into her heart, as she spoke.
“In Vegas. He’s at a gaming party. He kissed some white woman.”
“A Becky? Oh no he didn’t.” She clicked her fingertips.
“You there now?”
“No. I’m at home.”
“You need to jump on a plane and go find his dune-coon ass.”
“Really?”
“Yeah don’t even call him neither. You go down there tonight. Hop on a plane. And confront his cheating ass, red-handed.” Angelica was breathing heavily into the microphone.
“I should. Oh my gosh. I’m hyperventilating. I can’t believe this. Why? What did I do?”
“Girl calm down.”
“I’m gonna call him. Or no. I shouldn’t? What the heck? This can’t be happening. How could he? Why would he do that to us? It’s not like him.”
“It is like him. He’s a man. I told you religion don’t mean shit to men. And don’t you dare call him. You sneak up on his ass. Fight fire with fire. Ya hear?”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m coming over there girl!” Samantha said.
“No. Don’t.”
“You need to fly out to Vegas and smack his ass around like the cheating scumbag that he is babe. Men! Oh no! I can not believe this shit? This is your chance to shine boo.”
“Go out there? Now? But I can’t. He’ll get mad.”
“Yeah. Go out there. And divorce his ass,” Samantha shouted.
“The Fateh is in Vegas.”
“If his jet is out there, buy a commercial flight.”
“What if he sees me buying a ticket?”
“Hide it.”
“Will you come with me if I go?” There was a pause.
“I’ll pay for your ticket.”
“Aright. Yeah. Lemme know girl.”
Angelica raced down the steps with her Louis Vuitton roller bag and her hair wrapped in a headscarf. She and Samantha had a flight departing at 6 am. Angelica yelled out to Genius to lock the house up after she closed the front door. She hopped in their Tesla Sedan.
“Genius. Disable all broadcast and connection, except for GPS.”
“Please enter passcode or use biometric identification to disable broadcast,” a voice actress who sounded like an African-American woman responded on the car’s speakers.
“What would Muhammad use?”
“Incorrect Entry. Please try again, or use biometric identification.” Angelica thought of the passcode. She typed in 03–12–28, Muhammad’s first day in America.
“Connection to mobile network disabled. Safety assistance is not in use at this time.”
“Turn off Mobinus.”
“Please enter passcode or use biometric identification to begin manual driving capability.” Again, she typed in the password.
“Autonomous vehicle navigation is disabled. Please remember to obey all local traffic rules. Stay four seconds behind the automobile directly in front of you relative to stationary objects. Scan your surroundings. Keep your eyes moving. Thank you.” Angelica pulled the gear stick into drive and stomped on the accelerator, like her foot was extinguishing a wild flame. She drove around their looped driveway.
“Call Samantha.” Samantha answered, “Hello?”
“Hey girl.”
“Hey boo. How you doing?”
“I can’t… I can’t believe this.” Samantha heard Angelica crying.
“You need to stop playing yourself. He’s probably been doing this for a long time. He’s a no good fool for playing you and doesn’t deserve you. Never has. He’s only acted a humble man cuz that’s his facade. I always knew he was too good to be true. His true colors finally came out tonight.”
“I feel like he… he is upset with me. Or maybe he’s stressed. God’s punishing him I was telling him and now me.” Angelica couldn’t pronounce words and kept using her sleeves for soaking up tears.
“Stop. He’s a liar. All this time him pretending to be this saint. Turns out he’s a typical no good man.”
“But he doesn’t do these things. I know.” Angelica shuffled between deep gulps of air and shallow gasps, as she cried and cried.
“Calm down girl. Forget him. He’s gonna be the victim. Where you at?”
“I’m coming over to pick you up.”
“What time’s our flight?”
“6.”
“Ok. Nobody in this life is allowed to play with your emotions! It’s like our leader said greedy people are the cause of all trouble in the world.”
“I know.” Angelica let out another deep moan from the pain of her heart being squashed by the hands of the only man she ever cared enough about and trusted to hold it. The image of Muhammad kissing a strange female played over and over in her mind.
“So, you’ll be here soon?”
“Yeah.”
“You better! And when you are single and we’re in Vegas together. Ohhhh maaann! We’re shopping.” There was a break in their conversation. Angelica snickered and said, “I’m excited.”
“See you boo’.”
“Love you.”
“Drive safe,” Samantha said. The call ended. Angelica’s thoughts were consumed with Muhammad’s unfaithfulness and she compressed the gas pedal and the vehicle’s tires spun faster over East Alameda Avenue’s pavement. She gripped the steering wheel tighter to compensate for her increased speed. Through the droplets of tears, oncoming headlights refracted rainbows. The headlights blinded her and she raised her sleeve up and wiped dry her eyelashes again, only to have them replenished with more tears from the following sob. In her hysteria she heard a beeping noise. Beep. Beep. Beep. It distracted her from looking at the infrared screen built into the vehicle’s console, which was showing trouble ahead. The vehicle was warning the driver of approaching chevron signs and whilst executing the turn, a lone deer appeared in the road.
“Oh shut up! Muhammad. Why?” Suddenly, Angelica saw the buck, yet the vehicle did not slow, as it was programmed to do in this situation. The young girl thought, at that exact moment, I hope God makes it jump off the road. Angelica knew she had no control over the animal’s movement and the fact made her feel helpless. She punched her horn and stood on the accelerator, instead of the intended brake pedal. She studied the quickly enlarging two stars, which were the antlered-creature’s optic nerves reflecting Angelica’s headlights. I’m hitting you, God take the wheel, she thought. Angelica jerked the wheel. Her view of a deer statue on a road among trees flipped upside down, as this glowing box of metal barreled and corkscrewed into the darkness. The deer, frightened by the lights and noises, leaped with powerful leg muscles into the tree line.
Angelica’s senses were snatched in the blink of an eye. Her consciousness never recognized what happened. Angelica’s mind comprehended her acceleration and a deer in front of her vehicle, but that was it. For, her next train of thought was never possible, because everything was abruptly nothing and nothing was suddenly, everything! Break, break. Can’t have you thinking about shit that’s unimportant, as I tell you this epic tale. Trust me, what you may be worrying about right now is of no consequence in your boring-ass life. I’m stopping here, so after you return to my story your concentration will be at its peak.
— —
If you made it this far…. 95% will own a copy via Amazon. Buy.