BIG TIT DERBY 5X5 Ch. 03

"Hello?"

"THAT BITCH DONE TOOK MY CASH CARD!!"

Porsha called a day earlier than I expected reporting the violent struggle that ensued when my cousin Deanna snatched the card out of her hand in a final bid for some owed rent money. I was two steps ahead of both women wanting to ensure their mutual silence by creating mutual conflict between them both.

"Hey, you still got your phone?"

"Yeah-BUT THAT FAT BITCH GOT MY CARD!!" Porsha was fit to be tied.

"Relax, you can log in on the phone and turn that shit off; just order a new one and have it delivered somewhere else." I happily played devil's advocate controlling both sides of the argument for leverage that would get Porsha for another shoot if I couldn't find anybody.

"Thank, bruh." She hung up as mom's hand slapped the back of my head. She didn't like me taking calls in Sunday school.

"Gimme that damn phone."

She snatched my android, placing it in her old lady purse which would undoubtedly be swung into my head like a medieval flail at the conclusion of service. I suffered through a really bad rendition of "Lean on Me" played on the church organ, but it was okay because I was on the clock, so to speak.

Her name was Tressie Fisher, a staunch member of Glory Harvest Baptist Church who served as a youth Sunday school teacher, choir member as was currently assaulting my ears playing an awesomely bad version of the aforementioned song. She was what you'd call an entrenched member of the church, almost born there and indoctrinated by her mother Gerona Fisher, head of the church council who also ran the choir when she was toiling away as an office worker in the rectory. My mother was herself an on again, off again member of the church unknowingly providing me with another potential "actress" for my adult themed startup.

Back to Tressie though; I'd say her face was reminiscent of Ayesha Curry sans the weave. Her hair was all natural, close tight and curly with a golden tinge to it that bordered on being blonde in color. I normally wouldn't have been able to comment on her figure because the elder Mrs. Fisher (Widowed) made sure to keep her covered up in these large frumpy looking flowered dresses that even Madea wouldn't have worn. But serendipity reared its beautiful head signaling that my recent endeavors were one of fate other than chance, the evening right after I'd closed the deal with Porsha Simms.

Still intent on playing around with one of my digital cameras, I'd stopped at the church sometime after eight that Saturday evening. I wanted to get some shots from a low angle for a zero budget horror film I was thinking about shooting with friends. It was a medium sized building built as a minor version of a catholic type structure even equipped with a bell tower operated by switch of course. Right in the middle of capturing a forced perspective shot, I was shocked by the sudden blaring of a car horn at my back enough that I tumbled over. I glanced up finding some seriously dangerous freckled faced guy staring at me laughing with a mouth full of yellowed teeth.

It looked like I might be the victim of a random shooting as the horn continued blaring, when someone very familiar came scurrying from the side of the church. This female was wearing a dress that looked like something out of the seventies with swirly colors of mint, fuchsia and black making up the print. She was stacked to the gills with an unforgettable set of powerful looking tits. She actually stepped over me into the car giving me an unintentional upskirt. There were no panties under her frock which left me frozen with shock at the sight of a bare cooch despite just having been with someone.

There was another dangerous type behind the wheel reminding of the old rapper, Slick Rick as she slid in beside him. The freckled guy tossed an empty beer can at me, splashing its remnants on my shirt as I got a look at the girl's face. We both saw one another for a few seconds before the Monte Carlo sped off into the night. I could still hear that freckled guy laughing as I arrived at my porch. As far as I was concerned, that evil looking nigga needed a stake driven through his black heart. There was a surprise waiting for me as I began editing the last scene I'd done with Porsha Simms. Some purely accidental footage captured of Tressie in evening wear, her mother definitely wouldn't approve of one bit. A few days in, I decided to "find religion" accompanying my mother to church.

"Can I get my phone back, mom?"

"No you may not; and I don't even know why you always gotta bring that damn camera bag with you every time we go out somewhere!"

"I'm a filmmaker; you never know when you'll find something good to shoot. "I explained in a half lie knowing I intended to finagle my way into a girl's pants.

"It'd take more than some dumb video camera to make you a filmmaker, boy!"

"Thanks for the confidence." I replied salty at her dismissal of my creative being, however, skewed. Instead of walking it back to assuage my bruised ego, she shoved my phone into my chest before noticing someone behind me.

"OH HIGH TRESSIE!!"

I wretched internally as my mother verbally fawned. She was always talking up Tressie as someone I should look up to for staying on the right side of the lord and making the most of my time. In fact she had a long list of my supposed peers that where supposedly "role models" for me. Part of me found it comforting that she didn't have a clue about the real Tressie Fisher.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but your son said he would help me empty the clothing bin for the good will donations."

"I did?"

This was a development of sorts, because I'd said nothing even remotely like that other than hello when we arrived at church this morning. I'd excused myself for the little boys room finding her putting out the guest book when I returned, but she walked into the main hall the minute I showed up.

"Now son, we always KEEP our PROMISES; mind your manners and I'll see you at home so we can go over a psalms from today's lesson."

Mom pinched my cheek covertly displaying her displeasure with me. She wasn't gonna be reading no bible when she got home. I was likely gonna find her passed out in her bed with a glass of wine at her bedside table. She left me alone with Tressie instantly making things awkward.

"Would you follow me out into the rear playground area?"

"Sure, but I don't remember saying I'd help you with anything, Tressie." I'd attended a few of her bible classes in the past but found them a snooze fest before drifting out back to the adult side of things in the church.

"Follow me out onto the rear playground area." She softly touched my bicep, applying a little pressure. It felt somewhat threatening as I was suddenly given the memory of that laughing freckled faced guy who reminded me of the fucking joker.

"Alright, after you Tressie."

I noticed some overly cautious behavior as she navigated the crowded church lobby covertly steering clear of its rectory members and more specifically, her mother. Her parent was similar in appearance with a larger, thicker body hidden under some frumpy looking dress that likely predated the fifties in esthetic. She had this tiny Yakama on the back of her head that all of the female elders wore. It was similar to the hats worn by some Jewish people. Combined with the similarly colored cat eye shades on her oval face, this gave Mrs. Fisher an insectoid, alien appearance.

"Watch out for the children, this is their time."

It felt like I was on a tour of the place as she led me out into the yard where a raucous crowd of toddlers were playing on the donated swings, slides and monkey bars. Tressie stopped to watch the children for a few moments. I couldn't decipher the expression on her face.

"They look happy, the children, I mean." I tried to make small talk.

"Of course they are; this is their time to play and be-innocent." One little girl ran up to her presenting a dandelion. Tressie faced the toddler away planting the flower behind her ear before sending her off to join her friends.

"Tressie, what's up?"

"You ever really take a look at this place; it's so urban gothic, right?"

"I guess so."

"I've been going to this church since I was five; my dad's funeral was here, too. This place has always been a part of our family in one way or another."

"So, are you tired of the place?" Tressie turned to me with a contrite smile on her face, that left more questions swirling around in my head.

"Hey, you remember Sister Jacobs, right?"

"Yeah, I always wondered what ever happened to her." I recalled the woman in question, remembering that she was just about the meanest person I'd ever seen.

But oddly enough she seemed to lighten up right before she stopped coming to church. She used to play the piano before Tressie inherited the job upon her disappearance. There were rumors of misconduct and some of my friends said Sister Jacobs started wearing these tight dresses showing off this huge ass of hers for a few weeks until she stopped showing up.

"Remember Pastor Grey?"

"I heard that guy was a con artist or something; it was on the tv."

"But you remember him, right?"

"Yeah, he seemed cool." Tressie's eyes narrowed as she led me over to the bin unlocking it with her own personal key. I put the box inside out on the curb, but she wasn't done with me.

I was getting weird Stepford Wives vibes off her as I followed her into a little stairwell leading into the church basement where the youth bible classes took place. It looked like a kindergarten classroom with Sesame Street posters, Dora the Explorer and various kids drawings adorning the light blue walls. The floor was covered with this foam to protect falling children made up in a jigsaw pattern. A modest television was in one corner of the low ceiling room with an old grand piano in the other near a mismatched wooden door leading up into the church. I could hear people milling about as I looked over my shoulder finding Tressie locking and bolting the door.

"Why're you locking the door?" She just smiled motioning towards the piano.

"Have a seat, please."

I unslung my camera bag placing it on the floor beside the bench before pulling it out to have a seat facing the piano as she slid in next to me. Tressie lifted the little shelf covering the piano keys and began playing a perfect rendition of "Everyday People" vastly different from the one I'd heard upstairs. She went through a few melodies in short order before playing a bit of Chopin. Tressie stopped suddenly turning to me with a cold expression on her face.

"I wanted to come at you; before you came at me. I know you saw me a couple of days ago and I don't want any trouble right now; so don't even try to blackmail me, nigga." That last bit of the sentence hung in the air as I gathered myself.

"Uhm, Tressie?" She started playing again, a little "Brand New Kind of Me" by Alicia Keys this time. I didn't have any idea what I was going to say to her after being correctly put on blast. She looked me in the eye playing expertly as she continued.

"Hey, you probably were gonna blackmail me for some pussy, right?"

"Not in so many words." I admitted with nowhere to go.

"Fucking is fucking; I know all about that shit. Hey, how you like the classroom down here? The little kids love it, you know?"

"Uh, it's cool, I guess." She stopped playing turning in her seat until she was facing the rest of the room. I followed suite as sounds of the children playing outside continued.

"Pastor Grey said I was destined to have my own church some day; gave me this job to put me on the path to the ministry.

"That's great; he was looking out for you." Tressie turned to me with a wry smile pointing at a spot in the middle of the floor.

"He fucked me in the ass, right there."

"SHIT!" I facepalmed blindsided out of nowhere by the revelation.

"At least he waited until right after I hit my eighteenth birthday. Guess he didn't want to catch a kiddie case and end up under the jail. That fucker kept saying he had this "big surprise" for my birthday. I didn't catch on until he was plowing the shit out of my cornhole. Sitting on the edge of chairs for a month was some birthday present."

"Damn, that's fucked up."

"Yeah, he was stuffing a lot of girls around here, and just as many wives. Reggie had a huge cock and loved using it; but all good things come to an end, you know?"

"Well, I know the cops got him, Tressie."

"No, they didn't."

"Huh?"

"They put him in jail, but he got bailed out. You know, nobody really knows what happened to that motherfucker except me, Chauncey and Demon."

"Who the fuck is Chauncey and Demon?"

"You met them; when they picked me up a few days ago. Chauncey was behind the wheel and Demon was in the backseat." The image of that guy's vampiric appearance shot into my mind's eye unwanted.

"Look, I'm not trying to blackmail you and you ain't gotta tell me shit." I went to get up intending to hit the door back up to the church lobby, but she snatched a handful of my suit jacket.

"DON'T FUCKING MOVE OR YOU GONNA MEET DEMON!!" I settled down not wanting to end up on that guy's radar.

"Alright, but I don't want no trouble."

"Don' piss me off; I know it's a little scary sitting next to a murderer, but I want you to tell me exactly what you wanted from me before I took over the narrative." I looked away from her face scratching my head not wanting to cop to what I thought were nefarious plans on my part.

"Uhm, shit-I really don't..." My voice trailed off into a whisper.

"You really did want some pussy; just admit it to my face, nigga. Look, I've been paying my dues for a minute now with Chauncey and Demon, you know? We always fucking, sucking and doing all kinds of shit with each other. Demon's ugly freckled ass even ran up in Chauncey one night after he passed out." Tressie was still smiling like we were having a normal conversation.

"FUCK!!" I turned away hoping someone would show up to inadvertently save me. She leaned in kissing me lightly on the lips.

"Don't be that way, I think you kind of cute; here man." Tressie took my wrist directing my hand against her right breast. It was beyond huge, but I didn't take the bait as she ran my knuckles over it trying to elicit a response.

"I don't know about this, Tressie; there's people upstairs."

"Fuck them; they ain't shit and half of them knew about Pastor Grey fucking all them girls and women. That's why they forced Sister Jacobs out after I put her on blast. You know, she was in on it with Reggie, but the cops didn't get her freak ass. We tried to get that bitch, but she got smart after we missed, got herself one of them attack dogs at her crib."

"You tried to shoot Sister Jacobs?"

"No, we bum rushed her when she came out of a convenience store around her house, but some people showed up before I could get the knife inside her. You know that bitch was fucking the pastor that took over after Reggie too; that's why they kicked her out." I'd heard enough as my flesh crawled, but Tressie jumped up obscuring my view of the unlocked door. She squatted looking me directly in the eyes.

"Come on, I'm really clean and I have something all the guys like, too."

Tressie undid the buttons on her frumpy dress as the released halves parted under the pressure from the immense bosom that appeared. Everybody around the church, suspected she had some huge knockers, but nobody was brave enough to get past her mother. Now I was looking at her deep cleavage regretting it because it was a veritable gateway to hell.

"44EE, that's how big they are, and I got the rest, too baby."

Tressie continued unbuttoning her dress giving me a view of her melons hidden behind almost the same type of bra I'd seen a week earlier on Porsha Simms. She stood up in front of my face undoing the last few buttons revealing these really small panties that were a size or two smaller than her zaftig frame required. She turned lifting her dress giving me a backshot of her thick, chunky looking butt, hard tan lines and all.

"THERE'S PEOPLE UPSTAIRS!!" I was intentionally loud hoping to draw attention to us, but she flattened her palm over my lips, noticing the camera bag on the floor.

We noticed it at the same time, but she was quicker snatching it up. I went to snatch it back, but she wagged a threatening finger in front of my face shoving her hand inside coming up with my digital camera. I slumped over as she opened the little side window staring at some footage left behind of Porsha getting tit fucked.

"Really, you wanted to make a movie, huh?" She was almost laughing in my face.

"Well uhm, it's a long..."

"Don't lie to me asshole; you were gonna blackmail me so that you could have some jerk off material, right?"

"Kind of?" Tressie laughed out loud quickly stifling herself with a knuckle between her teeth as she regarded me criminally contemplative.

"Okay."

"Huh?"

"Okay, I don't mind doing this shit if you'll keep your mouth shut; for fuck's sake I don't mind perverts at all. Looks like you really like fucking tits, too. This is some pretty good shit, perv. That's what you do with your time, trick girls into letting you fuck their tits?"

"I don't trick nobody, and all of them got paid." My ego spoke before my mind could stop it.

"So sad, paying for pussy."

"I didn't pay nobody!"

"Oh you got a sponsor, gimme a fucking break, nigga." My stupid, teen ego fought off my brain, piping up once more as Tressie trolled me turning the active camera in my direction. I put a hand up trying to hide my face.

"We, the other girls and I, posted it to this site and put them behind a pay wall. The money went to a cash app; that's how they got fucking paid, okay?"

"You're so smart, but I don't need money. I'd do it for the thrill, just do it to feel something other than hate for a change. So, you fucking my titties too? I don't care what you do with the footage."

"I don't know if that's a good idea anymore."

"Well you should stop thinking and listen to this." Tressie leaned over planting her palm flat over my crotch.

Despite all of the crazy shit I'd just heard, my cock betrayed me at full mast. I was fully in the twilight zone this afternoon as she opened her frumpy dress using a hand to free one of her breasts for my viewing pleasure. It was pendulous and bell shaped with the biggest areola I'd ever seen up to this point, including Porsha Simms.

"Damn." Tressie cupped my head pressing her nipple between my lips until I sucked of my own accord. She pinched the underside of her tit digging her nails into it giving me a surprise. My mouth was suddenly filled with lukewarm wetness.

"Reggie got me knocked up; I got myself one of those "accidental" miscarriages but my tits still leaking."

I reared back with a bit of my gullet full of murder milk. Tressie thought it funny squirting a little at my face. We were thankfully interrupted by knocking at the locked door leading out to the playground. I went for my camera, but she was too quick rewarding me with a slap.

"Get your ass over there in the fucking closet or everybody sees this shit, even the kids!!"

She shoved me into a closet adjacent to the piano. It was stuffed full of junk and discarded toys and Knick knacks. The double doors of the closet pressed against the side of my face as Tressie let a group of children inside after making herself presentable.

"HI MISSUS FISHER!!" The kids cried out in unison as I cringed inside the closet. Tressie was still in custody of my digital camera holding it in front of the group which included some parents as well. She was standing between me and the crowd of tikes.

"Hi kids, who wants to watch Frozen?" She switched back to her public persona burying the darkness, but I knew better.