Angela Lansbury’s Really Soft Porn

April Fool’s Blog

First of all, I want to say that I have 7 April Fools that I did so far today and it’s only noon. I am going to set a new record for all my hilarious and mean jokes I am playing on people. The key is to know they’re desires or fears and play the joke small and subtle, letting their reaction boil up. I let everyone off the hook pretty quickly, so I am not “pure evil” like someone indicated after they thought I was taking them to a live taping of Saturday Night Live.

I would like to showcase three blogs that I have some sort of hand in… by ‘hand’, I mean that I am writing them. Ghost writing. Recently, my job has been paying me to write in the voice of different characters in different blogs. By “paying me”, I mean that I have so much down time at work, this is what I have resorted to fill my time.

Slam Book – She is a bratty 16 year-old high school sophmore.

M’Agenta Brown – Street poet of filth, raw sexuality, and urban erotica.

Cody Melton – NYC comedian who is documenting his weight loss journey.

Please click the links and enjoy reading my new blogs that I am writing! Feel free to tell me which one is your favorite character – Bratty Girl, Urban Erotica Girl, or Cody Melton.

Brown Sugar – Part 7

It had been a month and a half since LaShira had been raped at the Buttlick Bump House. She was discovered bleeding on the floor by a cocktail waitress named Uniqua who had gone to take a speedball break in the dressing room. It took LaShira three weeks in the hospital to fully recover and another two all laid up and shit at Jasmines apartment. Jasmine was sweet about taking care of LaShira and her damaged brown taco.

It was time to take care of some muthafuckin’ biz’nass. Kwanzaa was going to start tomorrow and LaShira didn’t want blood on her hands during the holiday. Her and Jasmine were on their way to MC Deadface’s Hip-Hop Holiday Ho-Down at Roseland Ballroom. The girls had recruited L.T. and Tyrell to fuck some shit up on Christmas Day. This was the biggest fucking party in the hip-hop scene and everyone who was anyone was gonna be there. LaShira was hoping to perform, but since some stupid ass cracker head raped her, she had missed the auditions.

L.T. and Tyrell were set up in the rafters of the venue. Tyrell’s cousin, Jenkins, worked head of security at Roseland and was able to slip them through. Jasmine and LaShira headed backstage towards the catering table.

“Ooh, girl, look – They got gormet chicken wings! Look at all those dippin’ sauces”, Jasmine couldn’t ignore such a spread. LaShira shot her a stealy glance and the girls continued down the corridor.

The crowd started filling up the huge concert space. Everyone was in a festive spirit. The crowd became a sea of holiday lights, bells, and brightly colored Fubu jackets. The opening act took the stage. It was a group of homeboys that no one had heard of called “Wicked Ninjas”. MC Deadface was due to welcome the crowd of thousands soon and introduce his next R&B soul-diva, Scanty Pants. She was a whored out, second rate singer that had taken LaShira’s spot on the Fame Rollercoaster. Word on the street was that Scanty Pants killed her mother for a rock of crack and sold her little sister to a drugdealer as payment for a deal gone bad. Scanty Pants was the perfect ying to MC Deadface’s yang.

Wicked Ninja’s finished their set to a decent amount of applause. MC Deadface took the stage, his bodyguard just to his left. “Hello ladies and bitches” he screamed into the mic. The crowd went crazy. “Are you ready for a fucking hip-hop ho-down?”
Scanty Pants grabbed a second mic and began singing softly under MC Deadface. “This is my main bitch and she’s gonna sing a song I wrote called ‘After Church at Grannys’.

LaShira, tucked behind the backstage curtain, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. That was the song she had made a demo of in MC Deadface’s studio. No fucking way was this bitch gonna sing her goddamn song about her goddamn granny. A shot from the rafters rung out. The crowd began running everwhere. LaShira and Jasmine ran onstage in the commotion. Wilson laid dead. MC Deadface was injured and was screamin’ like a bitch. Jasmine ran over to Scanty Pants and grabbed her by her nappy ass weave and slammed her into the floor head first.

LaShira towered over MC Deadface. “You ready to die, punk-ass white boy?” Before he was able to respond, she jammed her stilletto heel into his squinty, little ratty eye. Then again. And again. The crowd was frantic. LaShira unstrapped a gun from her creamy, inner thigh and blast off a round into MC Deadface’s face. His face was gone. “Suck that, whitey.”

Jasmine was holding Scanty Pants in a headlock. LaShira came up to her and slapped her across the face. “I know you don’t think you is gonna have your dick stained lips sing about my granny, bitch. Now get the fuck off my stage.” Scanty Pants ran away sobbing all over her twenty dollar dress.

LaShira grabbed the bloodstained mic from the floor. “Hey everyone. Hey. Chill, chill. Its all good.” Her soothing voice slowed the crowd down. “My name is LaShira and I am gonna sing a song to you. It’s about my granny. And church. And Kwanzaa.”

The voice of an angel. The vengance of the devil. Happy Kwanzaa.

Brown Sugar – Part 6

LaShira was done fucking around. It was time for her first night onstage at the Buttlick Bump House, the hottest hip hop club north of Central Park. All the fine, hot niggaz were always up in this joint whether they was performing or just getting their drink on. She could hear the crowd pulsating through the walls and into her dressing room. LaShira was gonna make her debut in about ten minutes. She finished thickly applying her plum lip gloss, adjusted her titties, and finished her glass of Hypnotique.

The door opened and MC DeadFace came swaggering in. His cracker ass stank of whiskey and weed. With him was some dumb blonde bitch and his bodyguard, Wilson. Wilson’s hands were larger than LaShira’s daddys list of warrants. He was like a giant black meatball carved out of concrete. The dumb blonde bitch smelled like cotton candy.

“Let’s do some coke”, MC DeadFace threw down some fatty rails on the mirrored bar and poured some whiskeys. “Do it,” he pushed the dumb blonde bitch towards the bar. Blondie snorted two lines. LaShira hesitated, but then decided to bend down and slurp that fun powder up her nose.

“Good shit, right?”

“Yeah its good. Thanks for getting me this gig, MC”

“You like the Fine China?”

“Look, I told you its good all-ight?”

“You like to party with the Devil’s Dandruff?”

“Fuck, you messin’ with me or some shit?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna mess with you all-ight. Wilson -”

Wilson grabbed LaShira and pinned her against the wall. A smear of plum lip gloss stained the wall. MC DeadFace ripped out his limp dick and started stroking it. On cue, the blonde bitch grabbed his shriveled nutsack and ran her perfectly manicured fingernails through his whispy ball hair. Wilson didn’t say one word.

“Suck it, whitey”, demanded MC DeadFace to the blonde coke whore. She obliged. “You go first, Wilson. I gotta get hard.” He farted.

Wilson tore off LaShira’s delicate dress that she designed after a gown she saw Beyonce wear at the VMA’s. Wilson thrust his beercan dick into LaShira’s poopchute. He violently fucked her asshole. She screamed but the bass beats that were being dropped onstage drowned out her cries. The grunting sounds out of Wilson’s mouth swirled around in her brain until she passed out.

“Alright, I’m ready.” MC DeadFace began pumping his little manhood into LaShira’s warm, wet, unconscious pussy.

Brown Sugar – Part 5

LaShira woke up in a puddle of her own damn vomit. Shit, she hadn’t felt like this since she used to go to her neighbors house parties in Brownsville. LaShira’s booty was ripe by the age of 14 and she had wasted no time learning how to use it. Every weekend there was some hip hop thugs thumping some deep ghetto shit out of the speakers of their house. Everyone on the block would be there. She would plow through 3 fourtys of Mickey’s Malt Beverage and pass out in her own puke only to wake up to a different naked ass brother ever week.

The fourgy had let up and they all went to grub down at Xander’s BBQ. Nothing like a good plate of slow cooked pulled pork to finish off a night of sweaty, fierce animal fucking. LaShira had too much Hypnotique on the rocks and was now paying for it. Her head hurt, but not as much as her cumdumpster did. No more vagina intercourse for her today. No ma’am.

She wiped her face off and sat up. The sound of a running shower filled her ears and she tried for hell to think of who could possibly be in her shower. She went into the bathroom to see L.T. His firm body was all soapy and shit. The pain in her va jay jay melted away. Now she craved dick.

“Hey Bootstraps. Come in here”, he said with a trace of cockiness. He had given her the nickname Boostraps when they fucked in an airplane on the way to his mother’s funeral. The space was so small in the restroom on the plane that she had to pull her legs up over her head so he could get his dick wet.

She got in the shower. LaShira guessed this means they made up last night. He ran the hot steamy water all over her lickable flesh. His yummy cock grew and she wrapped her hand around it. They pressed each others warm tongues into each others open mouths. “Put it in me”, she moaned. He obliged and lifted her off the ground. As he thrusted with all his masculine might, the smacking sound of her moist ass against the tiles of the shower walls could be heard throughout the apartment complex. This felt so good to LaShira that when the time came to blow his chocolate sauce, she let him come inside her.

Afterwards, they went downstairs to Burger King and got two Croissanwiches with extra bacon.

Brown Sugar – Part 4

LaShira and Jasmine bust into that White Castle like they was expecting to rumble. L.T. was up at the counter ordering some cheap unhealthy bullshit from his best friend Tyrell who worked the night shift. Tyrell was too fucking hot to be slingin’ burgers but he was a good kid and was trying to put himself through junior college.

“Here’s your shit. Don’t come back to the apartment” LaShira growled while Jasmine was perched nearby waiting to spring into action if necassary.

“Baby, don’t be like that. Tyrell, you got a place in the back we can talk?” L.T. hopped over the counter and Tyrell let the ladies in through the side door.

In the managers office, there was enough room for all four of them to squeeze in. “I didn’t want to cause a public scene. You sure you wanna do this? I love you, LaShira.” Tyrell took off his shirt to change into a clean uniform.

“Damn, boy! You gots guns like I ain’t scene since my daddy went to prison for armed robbery.” Jasmine reached out to touch his masculine form. Tyrell pressed against her closer. “You got rubbers on ya?”

Quickly the foursome stripped all of their clothes. LaShira knew breakup sex was a bad idea, but she was so horned up from messing around with Jazz that she just had to have a dick in her. Maybe two. Tyrell smashed Jasmine up against the computer desk and started goin to work. L.T. lifted LaShira up on the safe and began twisting his tongue up and down and inside out all over her wet muffins.

After a bit, the girls turned on each other and the boys didn’t know what to think. It was the hottest thing for them to see Jazz and LaShira be caught up in the rapture of the moment. They advanced and the women and all four of them climaxed and fell into a sweatty heap on the floor of the managers office at White Castle.

Brown Sugar – Part 3

LaShira made a pit stop by Jasmine’s place to clean herself up. She was going to meet L.T. tonight to give him the rest of his stuff from their apartment. LaShira had already changed the lock and she wanted to be rid of him once and for all.

“How was the meeting, girl”, Jasmine asked in a cute poodle way.

“Sucked. I can’t believe I let that Wonderbread Whiteboy do me like that. I guess that is my cross I’ve got to bear to make it to the top of the heap”, LaShira said as she plopped her delicious body down on Jasmine’s folded out futon.

Jasmine moved over to the folded out futon, “You have a delicious body, LaShira, you should let people who know what to do with it get a little closer”. Slinking like a dangerous feminine feline who craved a bite of fresh tuna, Jasmine poised herself to pounce.

“Jazz, girl, what has gotten into you?”

“Shh. Let’s just be. Lets be each others strength.”

Jasmine began running her cocoa buttered hand up LaShira’s thigh. LaShira had never been with a woman before, but it seemed only natural that if she was to experiment with the brown taco, that it would be with her best friend. LaShira dove into Jasmine’s heaving breasts with pulsating energy. Their hearts rapidly beat to the rhythm of femininity. Soon, they were entangled in a hot and throbbing pretzel of tribal exploration. Honey juices were flowing just like rhymes dropping in da club.

After they climaxed together, Jasmine did LaShira’s make up and they both went down to White Castle to split a crave case. L.T. was going to meet LaShira there and Jasmine wasn’t gonna let her go all by herself.

Brown Sugar – Part 2

LaShira and the ghetto queen receptionist at Hotty Fresh weren’t seeing eye to eye. She had been there 15 minutes arguing with him that she did indeed have an appointment with MC DeadFace – the recording mogul of Hotty Fresh Records.

“Look, sweetie – Ain’t no Mariah Carey copycat gonna get through me. You have to have an appointment.” His name was D-Shon and she had dealt with his venom before.

“If you make me later than I already am, I will rip that tiara right off you damn head and stuff down your big mouth. Let MC DeadFace know I’m here!”

At that moment, MC DeadFace emerged from a side door. “LaShira! So glad you’re here. Come right in with your bad self.” This wigger was such a slimeball.

The icy stare off between LaShira and D-Shon would have to continue another time. MC DeadFace had the bomb diggity office. It was a dark plum coloring the walls. Every gold record was framed and spotlit from above and a round pink shag carpet was centered perfectly with a fuschia lounge resting on top. MC DeadFace motioned for her to sit on the lounge. She complied and he clapped his hands forcefully twice. The lights dimmed to a deep rose.

“We gonna do this quick this time, She-rah. I gots to meet with the execs from UPN this afternoon”, he grumbled as he threw his shirt in the corner and ripped off his pants exposing his pale white member.

She started to unbutton her Rocawear skirt, but he beat her to it and dragged it off of her curvaceous behind. He grabbed an ample handfull of her sweet booty chowder and laid a thick wet kiss on her plump lips. Jasmine’s lipstick smeared onto his pockmocked face and he began to moan like a mad bull. He stank of the dank and she could tell that he was stoned. Hopefully he wouldn’t take too long to finish his business. He was in his late twenties, but he was so unattractive that any touch from a woman was probably a new feeling for him until he aquired all his fame and riches.

As he climbed on top of her and began to thrust all she could think about was music and her sweet Nanna.

Brown Sugar – Part 1

LaShira Desmond doesn’t take any disrespect from nobody. Especially not from any foul mouthed playas that live with their moms up on 117th and St. Nick. So why is LaShira sitting in the park holding a pack of ice up to her cheek as her good mascara mingles with her tears and runs down the side of her silky cocoa brown face? Because Lawrence “L.T.” Tobbit smacked her bitch up.

LaShira didn’t need this shit. Her singing career was about to take off and she just plain didn’t need this crap. Her best girlfriend, Jasmine, was appalled at the sight of LaShira’s banged up grill when she reached her apartment.

“Girl, tell me that son of a whore didn’t do this to you”, Jasmine was revved up.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Jazz. Can I use your make up to fix my face before I meet with my agent?” LaShira was not about to get into this today. She had a meeting with her agent and some executives at Hotty Fresh Records in midtown at 3:00pm. Her dream of being on the radio seemed like something that actually may happen.

Her grandmother had always helped LaShira’s love of music grow. When LaShira was a little girl she would always look forward to Sundays when she would get to go to church with Nanna. After church, the whole family would go back to the house and grub down on some of Nannas potato sald and gather round the piano and sing. LaShira always held onto Nannas joy. Even after Nanna was murdered in a deli robbery, LaShira always carried around that love of music and family.

With a fresh face of make up, it was time to get to Hotty Fresh Records.