Goldie Pt. 03: The Man with a Golden Penis

NB-the protagonist is uneducated and writes in dialect

GOLDIE PART 3: THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN PENIS

Dear Reader, if you took the time to read Parts 1 & 2 you know what I've been up against. You know I have been convicted of a murder I did not do, I am innocent. Let me continue with my story, hoping it will prove I am a good guy.

Goldie Part 3 - Prison Life, Solitude, a Family's Sexual Affair

I'm here alone in my prison cell in the Polunsky Unit in Livingston, Texas. My executions will take place in Huntsville, Texas, as all of them kill'ins do.That's one ride I'm not looking forward to.

On death row, we don't have cellmates. We are housed separately. There ain't no shoelaces or belts allowed here as the warden is afraid we might cheat the executioner. We could easily hang ourselves with the sheets or even a de-threaded pillowcase. Maybe the Warden wants us to be creative if'n we attempt to commit suicide. Shit, it would be easy to slit your throat with one of the loose sharp bed springs if you'd wanna. I have no intention of taking the easy way out. I'm here till they shoot the shit into me. Texas uses lethal injections—which don't always work, but in the end, they will get you just the same.

I spent over a year in the general population while awaiting my brief trial. My lawyer was a nice liberal woman but totally useless. She thought Hilary would get me free. Ha, after a dozen letters to the Clin-tone I got not one answer. Maybe she was busy chasing her hubby with a rolling pin?

When we were alone, my 'pubic defender,' Miss Kronsky, would cry, then dry her eyes, blow her nose and very kindly give me a quick hand job under the table. If the guards put us in the closed room and left us alone, she'd crawl under the table and blow me. She was a sweet woman who brightened my day and was fascinated by my golden cock. I'm a think'n she'd make a better whore than a lawyer. There ain't nothin' wrong with whore'n. My Mama used to do a bit of that to put food on the table for us youngins.

Miss Kronsky tried to do a good job lawyering, but she was just out of school. As the prosecutor said, she just wasn't up to proving my case. I always thought you had to be proven guilty in America, if you were innocent you would be vindicated. What I learned was even the innocent will be butt fucked. The public thinks the real punishment of being incarcerated means you don't get to have sex. But believe me, more fucking and cock sucking goes on in jail than in any of the bedrooms outside a here.

I remember when we were housed in the general population during my trial. We was four to a cell. The two black guys would be jerking off several times a day, that is until by accident they stuck a gay tranny Mexican dude in with us. She seemed nice enough but was too stupid or unprepared. Instead of telling the prison authorities that she was a gay tranny and being transferred to the gay section of the prison, she tried to pass as straight. Of course, Willie and Leroy figured her out pretty quick and took advantage of the situation. By the end of the week she got transferred out with her ass hole kinda enlarged.

Some young long-haired kid named Jonah took her place. They nicknamed him Joan and he didn't fare much better. I guess he got used to being raped and finally, he stopped resisting. Yep, you gotta adapt and survive. Maybe when they said they'd knock out his teeth so he could give smoother blow jobs, he got the message. I'm happy to say he was still smill'en when my trial came to an end. By then, Willie and Leroy started selling his ass to other inmates and some of the guards as well. Capitalism seems to flourish in prison.

I wanted to complain about my cellmates sexually predatory behavior, but you don't play hero in here unless you want to wake up with a shiv (made out of a sharpened spoon) in your gut while you are bleeding to death. In prison you just keep your mouth shut, unless someone bigger than you stuffs his cock in it.

When the jury found me guilty I was moved from the general population and placed here on death row. It's basically solitary confinement, although you can talk to the prisoner in the cell next door or see him with a mirror, if you want to. Most of these guys are crazy so it's best to keep to yourself. Once a week the guards let you go out into a narrow cement space where you can walk around but it smells of piss so you can't do exercises..

The high point of the week for me was not the exercise yard but the hour I get to visit once a week with the prison shrink. She was a woman about fifty years old, I guess. The shrink, Dr. Zelnick, looks like someone's grandma, but I guess the testosterone in the air gets to her as well. The shrink made it clear from day one that she believed me when I said I was innocent. She says she will help me if she can. But every good deed turns out to be quid pro quo and I have to fuck her on every other visit, right there on her desk.

Dr. Zelnick just pulls her panties to the side and I just gotta roll on in. She's not much for oral when it comes to blowjobs, but she insists on saliva lube, the natural way she says. Maybe she thinks my tongue came from Whole Foods or some other yuppie place. I've got to bend over and lick her pussy till it's wet enough to take the old golden penis straight up the old 'pussy tat' as she calls it.

The Doc said she was going to write up my golden cock for the medical journal. She has spent hours examining it and knows it better from head to stern than I do, even the bottom of it that I can't even see unless I bend it up against my belly or hold it over a mirror. Zelnick said she has never seen another golden cock like mine. She has examined it and taken lots of photos, including its entrance and exit from her pussy. I don't know what medical journal the photos are going to be in, but I sure am waiting to read that article.

Yeah, there is a bit of a faint urine smell on Doc Zelnicks pussy cheeks but we don't have shower stalls in the shrink's office. What we do have is a locked door to avoid prying guards, although I'm pretty sure they can smell what goes on when they come in at the end to shackle you for the long walk back to death row. Beggars can't be choosey and fucking grandma is better than fucking some guy's dirty ass. She says fucking is a form of therapy that helps the nerves relax. I guess it's part of the normal treatment she is supposed to provide. I go along with that, I call it "my fucking therapy," but I don't mention it to no one.

Anyway, you must be bored with these prison stories. Let me get on to what happened after I got fired from my security job at Joy Garden after some no good managed to roll that old safe out the door. I figure it had to be two guys but it turns out they got these special safe dollys that can jack up the safe and away they go. Who knows who the thief or thieves were?

I was sitting in Mario's Pizza joint late one night, over on Main Street, my red motorbike parked outside. I knew Mario's daughter years back from high school and she was working in the kitchen, but the night was slow and it was near two o'clock in the morning, the quitting hour. Margarita came out of the kitchen, her hands all caked with pizza dough and her forearms slick with olive oil to say hello.

I always called her Marg and she was unusual for an Italian. Instead of dark hair she had red curly hair, full lips like a black person and a big cheeky face covered with freckles. She was tall for a woman, probably five foot seven. But like most Italians, she had a full set of knockers. Them tits were like a Playboy Bunny, real full look'n like they was ready to take off, no sag. When Marg saw me sitting at the bar drinking a lonely beer, she came out and leaned right on the bar giving me a gander at her cleavage as she leaned forward and started right in talking,

"So how's it hanging Goldie?"

"Same as always Marg."

"Where you working man?"

"I just got fired from the Joy Garden where I was acting as security, but someone hoisted the safe I was supposed to be watching."

"How'd that happen?"

"I could tell you Marg, but you don't wanna know. Anyway, I'm out of work and I'm afraid the repo man is gonna come and take back my bike."

"Oh yeah, is that you cycle parked outside?"

"Yeah, I always wanted a red one."

"Way cool dude!"

"I know."

"Listen, Goldie, the Mex kid who worked here washing dishes and doing clean-up, left to join the army. You could have his job if you wanted?

"Hey, thanks, that sounds really good, like I could really do that?"

She patted me on the back, "Come back tomorrow late in the afternoon. I'll see if I can fix it with my dad."

"Thanks, Marg, you're a lifesaver."

So I started work at Mario's, her father passed me off as a Sicilian, he said down there in the toe of Italy the folks were dark and mixed up with the A-rabs, and some of them looked just like me. He said to keep my mouth shut if the Mafia guys came round as they do every once in a while. They didn't like my kind, "a moolie", around their food.

"No problemo sir, I no spica da inglis."

"Just keep your mouth shut kid, those guys don't fool around."

I worked my ass off over the Christmas holidays. The place was jumping. Once in a while, I'd have to get some drunk at the bar who was mouthing off to Margarita out the door. I'd just grab'em by the shirt collar and the seat of the pants and march 'em out. One guy pulled a knife on me but was too drunk to use it. I whipped his arm into a hammerlock and he dropped the blade on the sidewalk out front. After that Marg called me her hero.

When we got past New Year's, the business slowed down considerably. After eleven at night, the place emptied out so Marg and I would have long conversations. Marge began to hold my hand and touch my face as she talked. When her hands arrived at the bump my dick made in my jeans, I could see she was beginning to fall for me. She had broken up with her high school boyfriend who had been cheating on her. I didn't mention it to her, but Luke had been a frequent visitor at the Joy Garden as well.He used to bring a pizza in for the massage girls to share. Now I realized where he got it.

Now the only problem to a romance with Margarita was Mario, her dad, he was insistent that she marry an Italian. He planned to import a distant cousin to carry on the family name. If I wanted to keep this job I had to be sure Mario didn't know about this budding romance in the back room where the pizza dough was rising. That wasn't the only thing that was rising up.

It all came to a head around the second week of January. I was helping Margarita mix the dough in the back room where the temperature was turned up to make the dough and yeast mixture rise. Playfully, Marg grabbed a handful of warm dough and threw it at me, I didn't respond but then she grabbed another handful and stuffed it down the back of my shirt. Well, you can imagine, what went on next, each of us flinging dough until we ended up in tears of laughter lying on the half-empty sack of flour, our faces and clothes white with dust and sticky with dough. I tried to pull the dough out of her hair and she out of my shirt until we were both naked above the waist.

"I've fallen in love with you Goldie."

"And I with you Marg."

Her big breasts were covered with white paste so I knelt beside her and started to suck them clean. Her hands opened my pants and she laughed,

"Your cock is covered with white flour."

But that did not stop her from swiveling around to suck it clean which put her pussy with her bright red pubes right over my mouth.

"Hey man, yo sausage is a golden color.'

"Yeah, Marg, it sure is."

"But it is warm and long, Goldie."

"That's why they called me Goldie back in the locker room in school."

"Would you mind if I sucked on it for a while?"

"Course not Marge, I could use some relief."

With Margarita sucking my cock and me licking her pussy I guess things got a little out of hand. She'd sucked me very close to my cum point when I pulled out of her mouth and twisted so I could stuff what she called my Italian sausage between her legs, right into her honey pot, although she screamed when I entered her pussy, she soon accommodated all of it and grabbing my big right ball. She begged me to cum inside her, which I did, and as if I filled her with my sticky cum juice, she kept squeezing my balls and shouting,

"More sauce, I want more."

Little did I know that Mama Leoni, her mother, was watching this whole lover's wrestling match through the tiny window that separated the dough rising room from the ovens.

The next day when I came to work, Mama Leone cornered me and ordered me into her small office. I had no idea what was coming next, but Mama certainly did. She wasn't an unattractive woman even though she had twenty years on her daughter, which would have made her thirty- eight or forty. She had the same big tits, maybe even bigger than Marg, but a bit of a belly as well. She came from the old country and her English was sprinkled with Italian curse words.

"I see what you do to my daughter you lousy Mollie, vai fun-gul, but I gotta say your "cazzo" is il piu grande e' piu bella "cazzo" I ever-a seen in-a this here fucking cunt-tree.

Since I'm a-here two hours before-a my-a daughter gets here, you gonna come in'ta my fuc-king office as-a soon as-a you get-ta here an-a since-a you a-here today we a-gonna start-a right now."

I didn't realize how strong these Italian women are, I guess lifting those 50-pound sacks of flour gives them muscles you wouldn't imagine.

She grabbed me by the neck and pulled me forward into her lap where she flicked open her skirt and pulled down her bloomers all in one motion. My head was like a homing missile nearing its target. I saw a big black curly mass of dark hair between her plump thighs and a faint reddish-pink mass below it.

I had little choice but to demonstrate the same lingual skills that she no doubt had admired the day before. I have to admit she was clean but she had an overpowering taste of pungent pussy and sour sweat that after I finished servicing her, hung on my face like a stink cloud from my forehead to my chin for hours, even three soapy scrub sessions in the bathroom didn't get the stink off me and a lot of it was unreachable as it was way up high inside my nose.

Hoping her daughter didn't get wind of it, I kept my distance and even rubbed some of the garlic pizza sauce under my nose to hide the smell.

This went on for about six weeks. In the mornings I had to satisfy Moma Leoni, either orally or with my golden cock, and in the evening or late-night sessions, I had to make love to her daughter. It soon became a bit too much fucking but I was hanging in there. I sure kept away from her father, Mario, but a chance encounter with him on the way to the bathroom put things into a downward turn.

I had finished servicing Mama Leoni orally that morning and Mario, who usually didn't arrive till the evening stopped me as he was coming out of the bathroom. I was rushing in to wash up from the pussy juice off my face but he grabbed me by the shoulders and asked,

"Which one of my girls are you fucking?"

I thought he was joking but he pulled me close to his big Italian sniffer and said,

"Oh yes, I know that scent, that's Mama Leoni's pussy."

I froze with fear.

"Mama told me you were getting it on with Marghera as well, boy oh boy, you are a busy boy."

He grabbed me by my arm and dragged me after him.

"Come into my office, we are going to get to the bottom of this and see if we can keep this all in the family."

When we got into his office, he pushed me inside and locked the door. He reached into a drawer and I figured he was going to pull out a gun and shoot me. Instead he pulled out a jar of vaseline, and said,

"Seeing as I just got out of the crapper, you should have an easy time."

"Easy? I said, with a quizzical look on my face.

"Easy time fucking my ass boy, with your golden prick. You think I never noticed?"

Now I'd been told most Italian restaurant waiters were gay and I know Mario worked for years at his uncle's place but I never even thought of the possibility he was a "bisone" (gay) or bi or whatever. I had no idea if he had the same behavior as a waiter as he was demonstrating now.

He walked around in front of the desk, dropped his pants and underwear and squatted so as to spread his ass cheeks and then rammed a big gob of vaseline right up his ass hole.

"What am I supposed to do?" By now I was whimpering.

"You're gonna drop your draws, stiffen up your big dick and stuff it right here in my lubed ass hole, either that or I'm gonna pull my pistol out of the other drawer and blow your fucking brains all over this nice clean wall. The choice is yours. When I'm done butchering you we'll have Swedish meatballs on the menu for the whole week, Jesu Christo, maybe for the whole month."

"You- you wanna get fucked, right now?"

Yeah, fuck me standing up you mooli, fuck me here in my office just like you fucked my wife and daughter. "

"I love your daughter, your wife made me do it."

"Just shut the fuck up and fuck me you son of a moolie bitch."

So, against my better judgment, but wanting to keep the job and not lose Marg as my girlfriend, I figured I better do what I had to do. I must admit, a strange thought went through my head. I imagined me and Mario running the pizza joint together and me being his son-in-law with a bunch of little kids around us.

I grabbed the old guy by the waist and shoved my golden dagger right inside, I started to plow into his ass, seeing that his wife and daughter were draining my balls, it took quite a while to get to that cum moment when I squeezed him tight around the waist and dropped-shot my cum load right up his ass.

That is exactly when the shit hit the fan, the door unlocked and there stood Marg with the key, I could hear her say,

"Why is the door la—la locked? Oh my God, what are you two up to. Oh no, my boyfriend fucking my dad, oh God no."

At that exact moment, I pulled my cock out of her dad's ass with a loud plop. As I turned to face Marg the last gob of cum shot out of my golden cock and hit my girlfriend right in the face.

Well, as you might expect, I was persona non grata after that dog and pony show. I was out looking for a new job the next morning.

Is it any wonder they found me guilty? Just my luck Margarita somehow ended up in the jury pool and although I told my lawyer there was bad blood between us, the liberal chick lawyer said,

"Oh, don't worry, we find local business people tend to be very understanding, and she accepted Marg to be on the jury."

"Yeah, bring her Mom and Dad in, that will really help." I was being sarcastic)

"We might consider that," said Miss Kronski, when we were in private and she was supposed to be discussing the trial strategy, but instead was unzipping my pants and gave me few tongue licks before finishing with a hand job under the table, saying,

"I can't believe this beautiful cock you've got." I guess that's why they call these lawyers the legal staff.

I had a premonition that the trial wasn't going to end well. I'm sure Marg, who was chosen as the jury foreman, would have voted to hang me, if that was possible under the laws of the great state of Texas.

-End of Part Three-