[Note: Aside from its better-known definition of a Latin@ dance form, Mambo is the term for a female High Priestess in the Vodou religion. They are the highest form of clergy in the religion, whose responsibility it is to preserve the rituals and songs and maintain the relationship between the spirits and the community as a whole (though some of this is the responsibility of the whole community as well). They are entrusted with leading the service of all of the spirits of their lineage.]* * *
I had a friend once who fainted while getting his cocked sucked. This is true… To be fair, the woman responsible was no ordinary woman. Her skin was an almost impossible shade of buttery brown and she was sublimely beautiful. Regal in her bearing, her prominently chiseled cheekbones framed eyes shaped like goldfish, her full lips, evoking her African ancestry, glistened with dew, her lush ripe breasts hung just right, and the possibilities and potentialities between her shy smile and her magnificently shaped ass were infinite. She walked as if she were royalty and the world syncopated itself to the sway of her curvaceous hips. A subtle but palpable energy enclosed her and her amber eyes shone with an intelligence and wisdom beyond her young years.
And she would have nothing to do with me. In fact, I believe at times she was downright scared of me. She once told a mutual friend that I had powerful spirits all around me -- some benevolent, but many evil.
Many would say she was just a whore, but many more whispered she was a bruja, a Vodou priestess, a succubus. She had many admirers, and she could’ve quite possibly enjoyed a comfortable life of leisure if she chose. I don’t k now if she was any of these things, but I do know she absolutely worshiped cock. I can still remember clearly all these years later. It was a summer night, the air hot as held breath. And we, my friends and I, we were on a drug and alcohol-induced prowl and somehow we ended up at her place -- in the middle of some crazy party.
My friend was absolutely taken by her and I wondered why she even bothered with him. If she was a whore, as many claimed, she was obviously a high-priced one and my friend was broke. In fact, we were all just a group of five horny motherfuckers barely into our twenties, just out for a good time. I had seen her around occasionally accompanied by an older man who walked around scowling all the time. Some said he was her husband, but that seemed unlikely to me. In any case, the scowling man jealously guarded her and word was he had stabbed Blackie just for looking at her wrong. And Blackie was a Golden Gloves champion, just starting out on a promising professional boxing career.
Anyway, my friend just had to have her and she seemed willing, but there was the problem of the old man, so we decided we would act as lookouts while he tried to get with the Black Angel.
The music was so loud, we couldn’t hear ourselves think. There was much dancing, and the tenement apartment was packed with people. So packed, in fact, that no one (except us) noticed when my friend and the Black Angel retreated into a nook and began making out. I was supposed to be a lookout, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her carnally-fashioned form. Kneeling, she took my friend in her mouth.
“Do you like cock?” my friend asked.
She nodded yes as she looked up into his eyes.
I wouldn’t say that she liked cock -- my friend’s cock or any particular cock -- she actually worshiped cock. She was a cock worshiper. When I looked at her, she was already gone, she sucked and she groaned, drool coming down her chin and neck. Her eyes were rolling, opening and closing. It seemed as if she couldn’t get enough. My yelled at me to look out for the old man, but I was watching her swallow him like a woman possessed.
Some women enjoy being with a man and getting him off, but this woman worshiped cock. It was a completely different thing. Some women are wives, you see, some women want to find a good man to love. Cock to women like that is always a part of their men, the men they love, the men they open to intimately. Other women, women like the Black Angel, I realized, are cock worshipers. They want to open and take cock. It’s their way of opening up spiritually, of surrendering open and taking The One so deep they are lost in the worship, obliterated in the giving of themselves, gone in their love of cock -- not of a man as a character, as a husband or boyfriend, or lover, but lost in the love of cock itself.
Wifely women can’t fake that they’re into cock -- they may be into their man’s cock, but not any cock. Women like this woman, I thought as I watched this incarnated sex goddess devour my friend, they can certainly love a man, but they will always worship cock. No woman could ever be forced to be something she is not.
My friend started talking to the Black Angel while she was still ravenously mouthing him. “Yesssss, take it all, baby. Take it, take it… take it like I know you want to.”
< The sound of the drums playing pounded away and the very floor seemed to be shaking from all the dancing and everyone seemed to be oblivious. The space filled with an intense energy. This was more than oral sex, it felt more like a religious vision/ conversion. The air felt thick, as if a heavy pleasure were pressing down into all of our bodies. My point of view changed, so that I felt as if I were outside the room, feeling the entire apartment and the sweating, jubilant people in it, eliciting a vision dense with color, pregnant with love-bliss, and yet I was still there, standing in the room as a body.
Tears were streaming down her face in her adoration of cock. She was fully abandoned in her passionate attentions, in rapture, as were we all. People were dancing, their arms extended in the air, some were laughing, the room had filled with ecstasy pressing all of us open. Dancers abandoned themselves to ancient rhythms in worship of gods and goddesses long forgotten. My body felt filled with a force, the same force of thick love that filled the room -- that was the room. My breath deepened and my cock engorged, filled with the same love-substance… and I realized when I looked away that none of us were looking out for the old man, who was now headed directly to the little alcove where all this was happening.
I turned around quickly to warn my friend, when I saw that his legs trembled and he folded in on himself as if he were a puppet and promptly fell flat on his face, unconscious. The Black Angel had left, disappeared.
The Old Scowling Man finally made his way to us and demanding, “What’s going on here?!”
“I think my friend fainted,” I managed to get out.
Love,
Eddie
