Terror Firsthand #53: Mas Placer, Menos Terror

 ©Terror Firsthand is a fictional blog series that was created in 2024. It is for entertainment purposes only, and I wrote it from the top of my head. Photos are reenactments and dramatization. The following story is for mature audiences only. Please, do not try anything dangerous at home. 

Warning: extreme terror, explicit sexual content 

Terror Firsthand: Mas Placer, Menos Terror 

In Tempe on the way to the Blue Roof Motel 

After I got to Tempe, I stopped and refilled my gas tank one more time and grabbed some food and Rose. Quentin called me and said that he was at the Blue Roof Motel waiting for me where I had told him to meet me. There were Blue Roof Motels all over the United States. Anyways, I was wearing a glittery spaghetti strapped evening dress and a pair of Dolce and Gabanna sunglasses and flats.

After I got inside of the Blue Roof Motel with Quentin, he got right down to business.

"Let's start with the money." Quentin requested.

"Are you the police?" I asked. Then Quentin took his d*ck out and said, 

"Hell nah. I spent 10 years in the New York Penetintary." He said. I put the donation on nightstand. 

"Oh. So you're from New York I take it?" I asked. 

"Yeah. I'm from Corona Queens." He said. "I used to be a big time dope dealer there."

"Oh really? I used to hustle out there back in 2015. I'll never forget it. Then when I left Queens I went to Brooklyn and stayed there." I said. My New York City story never changes. 

"What part of Corona?" He asked.

"Roosevelt Ave." I replied. 

I then poured myself a glass of Rose and took it to the head. I knew that I would pay for it later. Everytime I tell myself that I'm not going to have another hangover, I end up having one anyway, and I'll just say, it is not fun. When I have hangovers, I feel like I'm about to die. 

"I used to stay in Elmhurst too." I continued.

Then he put on a condom and started rubbing and sucking my tits.

"Mmmmmm....That feels good." I moaned.

"Bend over and shake your ass for me." Quentin demanded. I did what I was asked.

After I started shaking my ass, he stuck his di*k in.

"Ahhhh... Mmmmmm...yesssss....." I moaned in pleasure. 

With Quentin at the Blue Roof Motel 

He banged my p*ssy out for about 15 minutes then he came. He took the condom off and started masturbating while playing with my p*ssy. Then he started sucking my tits and playing with it at the same time.

"Don't stooooopppp." I said, while the pleasure continued for another 20 minutes or so. Then he stopped.

"Do you wanna smoke?" I asked.

"Sure. I don't drink." He said. 

I rolled up a blunt of Chem Dawg and then walked with him to his Rolls Royce. I sat in his car and lit the blunt. I heard Flowrilla playing through his speakers and wanted to hear myself instead so I asked him,

"Can you play my music?" 

Supporting a rich rapper will not help me escape poverty in any way shape or form. That's why I stopped using a website called Cameo. No. The real reason I stopped using Cameo is because I'm scared of the "Caribbean Boyz". They are twin brothers and they were caught kissing in the mouth a long time ago. The video went viral and it messed me up in the head because I thought that they were straight. I didn't trust the site anymore. Plus it's a lot other gay niggas and hoes on there that I don't want to keep scrolling through. All sites have gays. Even Instagram. However, I just don't like Cameo anymore.

I can't buy any of these rappers sh*t or go to their concerts. I mean I could, but I don't see a purpose in that. I rather spend my money on something else, because that's what people do to me. The only way I would go to a celebrity concert is if I had free front row tickets or a free VIP pass. If I can't get all that out of someone then there's no need for me to listen to the rich rappers on the radio. 

There are two things that I have never done in life- and that's visit a radio station, or call in to one to win free concert tickets. I just can't picture myself doing that. I don't listen to the local radio. I listen to streaming platforms like Spotify and YouTube. 

I know that concerts tickets and merch have more value when money is spent, but some artists music is so good that you can't put a monetary value on it. Those artist are normally overlooked and underrated because of the mainstream rappers.

Besides, alot of gay niggas be saying that I'm a jock. That's another reason I don't listen to a lot of rappers. I've said this before already but I'm going to say it again. I'm not a jock. Everything I write is my original style. I don't sound like anybody else but myself. 

"You wanna hear your music? Here. Go to your YouTube." He said, and handed me his cell phone.

"I have a three year old kid and I live with my baby mother. That's where I'm about to go when I leave here. I also have two other jobs when I'm not doing this. You're my first client actually." Quentin stated.

"That's what's up." I said. I wasn't jealous because then he said this,

"My baby mother knows that I'm here with you. She knows that I'm doing this. We're not together, we just live together for the sake of our child." 

"Wow. That's really cool that you two get along." I said. At least his baby mother knew.

While my song 'Blasting Thru Yo Speaker' was blasting through his speaker, I smoked the blunt with him for the remaining time left. Then he said,

"Well, I'm going to get back to my baby mother now. I'll see you later. It was nice meeting you." 

"Okay. Quentin. It was nice meeting you to." I said. Then I got out of his car and walked back inside of the Blue Roof Motel.

I drank the remaining Rose and practiced singing all of my songs instead of rapping them. I sang for several hours and took photos for Instagram and posted more exclusive content that nobody has subscribed to yet. I realized that I could use a vocal coach. I decided to book a singing lesson at a studio in Mesa for the weekend. 

After I finished singing, I went to sleep. The next morning, I was certainly hungover. I knew it wouldn't feel good. I took a shower, drank some water, and then checked out of the Blue Roof Motel. I drove to a supermarket and brought some groceries for me and Big C. Then I headed back to the campsite to grill. 

At the grocery store with Big C 

While at the grocery store, I even had the nerve to buy another bottle of Rose, just to take the hangover edge off. Now the hangover would last for two whole days instead of one. It is painful but I didn't worry about it. It would go away by the time I go to my singing lesson. In the meantime, I went hiking and wrote an entire new song. 

I started thinking about going back to Louisiana but I knew I wouldn't be as safe as I was in Arizona. I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind and focused on singing and writing music. I couldn't wait to hear what the new vocal coach had to say about my voice. If I sounded off key to anyone, I was certainly hoping that the singing teacher could fix that.