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Twenty-five To Life Parts 1-3 by DONALD RICHARDSON, JR.
Corey Brooks woke up and he was still in his nightmare as he opened his eyes to the suffocating walls of his Wayne County Jail cell. He just had a sweet dream about his mama's home-made banana pudding, and was far from the reality that he had just got handed twenty-five years to life for chilling with a nigga he grew up with, because he always wanted his ass and finally got the chance to have him. Now reality was smacking Corey dead in the face again.
And the shit was unbelievable.
He ran into Bernard Green on September 4th while on his way to get his hair braided. He was looking good and Corey had been wanting to get with him since way back in the day. Bernard was a deep black dark skinned nigga with a short bald fade, trimmed up mustache and sexy ass full brown lips. Corey was almost positive he got down, and that day he made up his mind that he was going to try him. He told Corey he had some shit to take care of, but he definitely wanted to get up. So Corey had Bernard drop him off over his baby mama's house and he called him in a couple of hours to come pick him back up, after his hair was done.
When Bernard came back to get Corey, he had another nigga in the car. Some dude with a dirt brown complexion, golden brown shoulder length dreadlocks and a full mouth of gold that shined with his smile when he gave Corey a pound like he had known him for years. Said his name was Tony. Them niggas was happy as hell for some reason, like they had just hit the lotto or some shit, and they kept looking at each other and laughing at some kind of inside joke that they had going on between them. Corey might've thought they were plotting to rob his ass if he didn't know that they knew he was broke as hell. They didn't ask him to pay for shit. Not the trees, the Henny, the Heinnies, nothing. And they insisted on getting a hotel room even though Corey had his own building. They asked Corey to put the room in his name because neither one of them niggas had any ID. He went along with it because they were paying for the shit, but he definitely thought it was a waste of money.
After they got to the motel and got a little fucked up, Tony and Bernard did something that really fucked Corey up. They went out to the car and started bringing in a bunch of garbage bags. Corey was nursing his second glass of Hennessey on the rocks and puffing on the third vanilla dutch that had been around the room. He was feeling much too nice to ask them niggas about the shit and they were acting like a dozen garbage bags in a hotel room was totally normal. They didn't mention nothing about them, and every time the bags caught Corey's eye he couldn't help but wonder what the fuck was in them. He figured they must've been selling clothes or something, because he didn't think they'd trust him if it was money or dope. He was alright with Bernard but not like that, and he had just met Tony. For all they knew Corey could've been on some robbery shit, because it damn sure crossed his mind even though he had no idea what was in the bags. Not that Corey was that type of dude. He might think some ill shit like that, but he'd never do it. He was a real low key and soft spoken average Joe; not the least bit feminine, but definitely not a thug either.
When they got all the bags in, Bernard took off his shirt claiming he was hot and Corey remembered what he was there for. The five foot eleven inched nigga had a tight ass body and didn't have any drawers on, because Corey could see his pubic hairs. Tony must've been "hot" too, because he came out of his white tee. He had a wife beater on under it which displayed a body that Corey classified as thick. He was about six-two, two-twenty with no fat, just solid but unchiseled muscle. Corey wasn't hot, but he came out his polo shirt and the t-shirt he had on underneath it anyway, wanting them to see his nice slim swimmer's build complete with flat stomach and nice round ass.
That caught Bernard's attention and the nigga was like he was in a trance staring at Corey.
"Damn nigga," Corey said, "you alright? You starin' at a muthafucka like som'n wrong."
"Naw, ma bad yo. I was just thinkin' 'bout som'n." Bernard said, snapping out of it. As Corey rose to get an ashtray for his burning Newport, he could feel Bernard and Tony's eyes following his booty.
"These niggas want to freak," Corey thought to himself and then bent over to put the cigarette out, giving them a good look at the firm bubble butt that was exposed by his sagging Dickies, but covered by his tight Hanes boxer briefs. Corey was one of them sexy niggas that was easy to sleep on. He was a regular dude that could easily go unnoticed. Subtly attractive with no real striking features, Corey had a restrained sexual presence that was underscored by his clean babyface and lean body. His skin was a plain paper bag brown hue that made it easy for him to fade back and blend in. He loved sucking dick and loved getting his dick sucked, but loved to fuck and get fucked even more.
Bernard was high as hell and tired of beating around the bush, so he stood up and pulled his dick out right in the middle of the room. His dick was black as night, thick, shiny and long. Tony fell immediately to his knees and started sucking that motherfucker and Corey wished it was him. As he watched Tony glide up and down the shaft of Bernard's shit, massive and growing by the second, Corey's mouth watered. The next thing he knew, he was down on his knees almost fighting with Tony to get a taste of that silky black dick. Both them niggas ended up with their mouths on that motherfucker at the same time. Corey was licking his balls and sucking on the lower shaft, while Tony started off sucking on the tip of the head, then deep throated that shit, touching Corey's lips every time he took the dick all the way in his mouth. "Oh shit… Suck that mothafuckin' dick niggas." Bernard moaned while trying to step out of his jeans. Eventually, Corey's mouth forced Tony's off the dick and took over; slowly sucking that shit like it was a chocolate ice cream pop. So Tony eased down and went to sucking Corey's rock hard peanut butter brown dick. And Corey watched the dreadlocked nigga swallow every bit of his eight and a half inches out the corner of his eye, sucking that motherfucker like he loved that shit, while Corey got busy on Bernard's humungous black python.
Corey came off Bernard's dick just so he could get a good look at that motherfucker. When he did, he felt a sudden urge to have that shiny black shit deep up in him, so he turned around to let the nigga see his booty.
Corey had a nice phat round ass.
The kind of ass a nigga would love to just lay up in. Bernard saw that motherfucker and had to have it. He wanted to punish that booty for looking so good. Tony got a look at that ass and wanted some too. Bernard grabbed Corey and pulled that booty up on his dick, while Tony moved around in front of Corey and put his dick in his face. Corey immediately took the dirt brown stubby seven inches in his mouth and slowly sucked it. Suddenly, Corey could feel Bernard forcing himself into his ass. He didn't use shit; no grease, no lotion, no spit, nothing, and the pain was excruciating. "No stop!" Corey screamed, trying to pull away from Bernard. "I can't take it like that!"
"Yes you can. Just relax, nigga." Bernard told him as he stopped pushing for a second. Corey took Tony's dick back in his mouth. Knowing that the pain of Bernard's dick going up in him would eventually turn to pleasure, Corey concentrated on trying to make Tony cum; sucking his dick like it was candy. Before he even realized it, Corey was rolling that ass back at Bernard and taking all that dick. Tony could see Bernard's big black dick pumping in and out of Corey's pretty light brown booty. He closed his eyes and felt Corey's mouth sucking on his dick. The sound of Bernard slamming his shit up in Corey filled his ears and smell of freshly fucked ass filled his nostrils. He grabbed Corey's face and started grudge fucking the nigga's mouth while Bernard was crushing Corey's booty with his huge black ass buster pumping a hundred miles an hour.
Corey had both them niggas about to nut.
Then suddenly there was a loud bang at the door and that motherfucker came crashing in. A gang of Detroit's finest swarmed in on them niggas with weapons drawn and sights on killing the first thing that moved. Bernard's dick was still hard when they slammed him to the floor and handcuffed him. Most of the officers were disgusted, some of them were amused, but at least one of them was secretly aroused; Homicide Detective Derrick Workman. He got one good look at Corey's plump little brown booty and knew exactly who'd he be questioning first.
Corey found out what was in the bags as soon as the police started pulling out stacks of money and vacuum sealed bricks of marijuana and crack. He also found out that a reputed drug dealer had been robbed and slain earlier that day and the vehicle witnessed fleeing the scene was right outside, and listed with the room presently registered at the motel to a Mr. Corey Brooks.
The murder, robbery and drug charges were one thing, but it was the "crimes against nature" and "aggravated sodomy" charges that his mother and father had to hear being read off at his arraignment in the courtroom, that really fucked Corey up.
Corey was dealing with shit pretty damn good considering the circumstances. But now they were transferring him from the trustee dorm to a regular pod. He'd spent the last three months as a trustee, but being the convicted violent felon that he now was, he couldn't do that in Wayne County anymore. He had to pack his shit and say good bye to Terry who was like his only friend up in that piece. Terry was a career criminal; he'd been locked up at least two dozen times in his life and looked like it. He was five-nine, with beautiful dark brown skin, deep dark brown eyes and a body that'd been sculptured into statue-like perfection over the course of multiple incarcerations. If they wasn't in jail Corey would have tried his ass for sure, but he was too scared to risk that shit up in there. They were definitely feeling each other, so the next best thing for Corey was being the nigga's friend. Terry was trying to teach Corey how to box and they worked out together for three months. He was the one positive thing in Corey's life during the whole ordeal up until that point. Now he had to say goodbye and was much more saddened by that fact than any nigga in county lock-up should've been.
"Keep ya head up son," encouraged Terry as he took Corey's hand and pulled him in for a hug, "you can hold your own up there, just don't take no shit." He could look at Corey and tell that he wasn't really feeling that shit.
"Don't front Terry man, tell me the truth. I'm fucked ain't I?"
"Not unless you want be." Terry told him. "Yeah yous a lil sexy young nigga and they definitely gonna try you, but fuck them niggas. Just stand up for yours."
"That ain't me Terry, they'll see right through that shit. Look at me dude, I ain't no fuckin' thug, ain't a damn thing hard-core about me. Truth be told the right nigga wouldn't even have to take it, I'd give it to him." Corey couldn't believe what the fuck just came out of his mouth as he looked Terry fearlessly in the eyes. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he would probably never see Terry again, maybe it was the fact that he'd been locked down for three months with no sex or maybe Terry was just that nigga. Whatever it was, Corey no longer gave a fuck what Terry or anybody else thought about who he really was, and figured that was the only way he was truly going to survive in prison; by not giving a fuck. Then out of the blue, Terry pulled Corey's face in close, placed his lips on Corey's lips and initiated a long passion filled kiss that damn near took Corey's breath away. When he pulled back, Corey thought, "Why the fuck did he wait to I'm 'bout to leave before he did that shit," while looking deep into Terry's eyes. "Why you do that?" Corey asked him.
"Cause I needed to. I needed to know how those sexy ass lips tasted. I needed to know how you tasted." After Terry answered his question, he placed his mouth on Corey's neck. The nigga moaned in ecstasy as Terry softly and gently nibbled his neck with his lips, tongue and teeth. Corey thought the shit was a fucking dream, it felt so good. He sensed that it was much more than just a nut for Terry, that the man had real genuine feelings for him.
That upset him.
In thirty minutes he would be gone, and probably would never see or hear from the nigga ever again in life. He could hear other inmates roaming the corridors outside his cell and knew that they could go no further. The best that he could do was steal one more kiss and exchange PID numbers with Terry. Corey vowed to write him as soon as he got to his permanent spot.
Corey had been working out religiously for three solid months, trying everything he could to bulk up his body and gain some weight, and hone whatever kind of boxing skills Terry could give him. But at five-six with a slight swimmer's frame and hairless face, he looked like a little boy compared to any one of them niggas up in jail or prison. As he walked onto his new county cellblock he struggled to keep his eyes straight ahead and not react to the scores of sexy ass niggas sitting in front of the television and scattered at various tables on the wing.
"The least they could do is assign a nigga a cell to sleep in." Corey thought, but for some reason, the guards and administrators felt the best thing to do was to let the inmates decide for themselves where they slept on the pod. So Corey had to go from cell to cell until he came to one with an empty bunk. When he finally found one, Corey asked the very sexy young cat that was already in the cell if he could stay there, but dude didn't say shit; he just looked at him. Corey took that to be a "no", but he unpacked and settled in anyway.
As the days went by and nobody fucked with him, Corey began to get a little more confident waiting for his trip to prison. One night while talking on the phone to his girl back home, he happened to glance over across into the shower and saw his cellmate, butt ass naked. "Got-damn that nigga is fine as hell!" Corey thought, as he stared at that smooth caramel colored ripped body and one of the most beautiful dicks he had ever seen. The shaft hung down to his inner thigh, and the head was a light pinkish beige color. That pretty motherfucker seemed like it was made just for a nigga like Corey's mouth. And right then and there, he was hooked.
Every day it became harder and harder to for Corey to keep his eyes off of the nigga and his body. To make it so bad, they hadn't said two words to each other the whole time he'd been there. Corey only knew dude's name was Damar, because he heard other people calling him that. Yet and still, Corey was convinced for some unexplainable reason, that he could have the motherfucker. And against his better judgment, Corey broke down and wrote the nigga a note one day. A note that could have just as easily turned into a death warrant. Damar slept on the top bunk and Corey slept on the bottom; so he wrote, "Yo Damar, I know I shouldn't be writing this but I can't help it. I want to suck your dick. I won't say shit if you stand on the side of the bed with your dick in my face tonight after lights out." He left the note on Damar's bunk.
When Corey came back later while Damar was gone to workout, he noticed pieces of the note torn up next to the toilet on the floor and he suddenly felt like a damn fool. He just did the most faggotiest thing a nigga could do up in that motherfucker and now he was probably going to end up being the resident dick sucker for the whole dorm or some shit.
That night Corey's heart was beating so fast he could barely catch his breath. He thought about all the shit that could possibly go wrong and was scared as hell laying on his bunk, waiting. Finally, somewhere around nine o'clock he fell asleep. He was awakened by the sound of the doors locking at rack time. That was eleven o'clock when everybody got locked in their cells.
Corey kept his eyes closed hoping to look like he was sleep. He heard Damar come in and laid still listening as Damar began his usual routine of brushing his teeth and then brushing his hair. Then he stole a peek while Damar doing his nightly one hundred push-ups. "Damn he is finer than a muthafucka!" Corey exclaimed to himself under his sheets. After Damar was finished with his rituals he jumped up onto his bunk and let his feet dangle off of the side.
Corey's heart sank.
"Damn, I misjudged that nigga." Corey thought and his mind began to wonder about what the fuck will happen to him once Damar told his boys about what he did. Then Damar hopped back out of bed. Corey peeked from under his sheet and saw Damar standing in his boxer shorts. When Damar turned around and moved toward the bed, Corey got a good look at his shit. Hanging down his leg, it was concealed in his boxers and straining to be unleashed. Corey was mesmerized by its mass even hidden in his shorts and told himself that the dick was worth the risk he'd taken.
Damar stepped closer to the bunk and stood there, just as the note had instructed. Corey's shit got rock hard under the cover as Damar's dick pulsated in his boxers dead in Corey's face. Almost on reflexes, Corey came from under his covers and softly bit the head of Damar's dick through the boxers, and watched it jump like it was going to rip out of the underwear that had it confined. Corey took his hands and began to work the boxers down, slowly revealing his deep reddish caramel brown throbbing dick with a light beige-pink mushroom head. It was pure beauty. At least eleven inches long, three inches wide and standing effortlessly rock hard. Corey immediately took the head into his mouth, tasting the pre-cum beginning to leak from the tip. He slowly engulfed more of the head, easing his way down the shaft. He got to about half of the motherfucker and couldn't take the rest, it was just too got-damn big. As Corey began to pick up the pace and suck his dick faster, he could hear the nigga's moans.
Damar began to fuck Corey's face like it was a pussy.
He was pumping in and out in with slow smooth strokes. His hands gently caressed the sides of Corey's face and then eased back to grab his head. He told Corey to relax as he tried to get more of that pipe-strong dick in his mouth. Damar softly coaxed him while cramming his shit in his mouth until Corey realized that he could feel the nigga's nuts slapping on his chin. Corey sucked like he never sucked a dick before and Damar held the back of his head, sliding the whole motherfucking dick down the boy's throat. Corey couldn't believe it! His whole shit was down his throat. Corey was loving it so good that he started jacking his own dick. Just when Corey thought they both was about to nut, Damar slipped his dick out of Corey's mouth and turned to get some lotion off the shelf.
"Aw shit," Corey thought, "there ain't no way he gonna fuck me with that dick." His whole body stiffened with just the thought of it. And Damar sensed it.
With a deep lustful voice Damar pleaded, "Please let me fuck you, Corey. That ass been driving me crazy ever since you got here. I'll make it feel good to you baby, but I really need to fuck you." He kissed Corey like he was his girl back home and that was the end of the discussion. Damar eased off of Corey and turned him over on his stomach. He picked up the lotion and then squeezed a glob of that shit in his hand. He took a good look at Corey's perfectly round brown booty and then slid his hand between the crack of his ass, smearing the lotion right inside Corey's tight opening. Corey couldn't believe he was about to let that nigga fuck him with that big ass dick. He had a hard enough time getting the motherfucking dick in his mouth, now he was going to try and take that shit in his ass? Corey tried to brace himself for it, but nothing could prepare him for the pain he felt when Damar rammed that dick up in him without warning.
"Ahhhh!" Corey hollered and Damar quickly put his hand over Corey's mouth.
"Shhhh," he warned, "the guards." Damar stopped but didn't pull back. He just laid and waited, while Corey squirmed underneath him. Damar had Corey locked into position and there was nowhere he could go. Every time he tried to run, the more that dick pushed further up in him. When he stopped, it stopped. When he moved, it moved.
They found a rhythm and suddenly the pain was gone.
Corey felt that dick burrowing deep in his ass and that shit felt gooder than a motherfucker. Damar was fucking that booty hard and strong, slamming his giant brown dick in and out of Corey's sweet young ass. Then he started long stroking the booty, sliding all the way out and then slipping all the way back in, nice and slow. Damar had some good dick and he was laying claim to Corey's ass hoping to shape that motherfucker for his dick, and his dick only. He rolled his hips, trying to hit all sides of that booty and he could feel his nut building, as he started cramming more of that colossal dick up in Corey. He shoved and pushed and pumped and slammed and slipped and slid, harder and faster until finally, he sprayed a river of cum deep inside Corey's burning ass. Damar gradually slowed to a halt and Corey just knew he would never walk the same again.
Corey was sore for days after that shit, walking funny as hell and he couldn't help but wonder if nigga's knew why. Looking in the mirror, he could've sworn his booty was sticking out a little more after all that dick. Suddenly, the sinking feeling came over him that he might be in deep trouble when they shipped him upstate. Something told him that he was going need all the practice he could get taking dick. Corey was five foot six, one hundred and forty-eight pounds, soft spoken, and babyfaced. He had a nice phat booty and just enough boxing skills to piss a motherfucker off and make him really whup his ass. Niggas in prison drooled over young niggas like him. The fact that he was a cool cat who knew how to keep to himself and stay out of people's business was a plus, but not quite enough. Sooner or later somebody was bound to try him up in there. And Corey knew it. Yeah, he was feeling niggas, but he also had a girlfriend and a sixteen month old baby boy at home.
"Whatever happens," he vowed to himself, "I will not be nobody's bitch." But as the days to his transfer gradually dwindled down, Corey became more and more concerned.
Homicide Detective Derrick Workman knew that there was no such thing as an open and shut case, but he really didn't like the way the Ronnie Lewis murder investigation played out. First of all, the suspects were butt ass naked in the middle of an orgy when they ran in on them. Butt naked in the middle of sex with weapons well out of reach, is actually an ideal way to bust in on suspects considered armed and dangerous, even if them niggas are freaking each other when you storm in on them.
That's exactly what happened.
Derrick bugged the fuck out on that shit and had a real hard time trying to hold it together when it was jumping off. Bernard Green had his big black dick deep up in the young boy Corey Brooks, who was at the same time sucking the third suspect, Tony Ridgeway's dick when they swarmed in. It was a good thing that he was wearing all of that equipment, otherwise everybody in the room would have seen how hard the detective's dick was. The shit looked like a scene from a porno movie and all three of them fools was fine as hell. Being a homicide detective for the City of Detroit, Derrick Workman saw fine ass thug niggas all the time, but never like that.
The case was already pleaded and sentenced, but Detective Workman still couldn't let it go. Derrick could see that the young boy wasn't a thug, but he had seen many a soft nigga murder in cold blood too. There was evidence that proved Corey Brooks really didn't have shit to do with Ronnie Lewis' death, but since the boy refused to turn states on them other niggas' drug charges and his sorry ass public defender overlooked obvious factors that could have exonerated his client, Wayne County's homophobic District Attorney decided to let him, "rot in prison with his faggot ass buddies." As he was alleged to have been quoted saying.
Derrick couldn't see any logical reason why the boy kept his mouth shut facing all that time, so he figured he had to be Green or Ridgeway's lover or something. But in reality Corey Brooks just wasn't a snitch and didn't want to look like one either. That was a hell of a principle to stand on for twenty-five years to life, and Workman tried everything short of offering the little nigga some dick to get him to turn, but dude wouldn't budge.
He could not get his mind off of young Mr. Brooks.
The kid turned eighteen just after he got busted and Detective Workman had a ball interrogating his ass, but he found out more about how much the little nigga loved dick than he did about the Lewis murder. Corey was peanut butter brown with cornrolls and sexy light pinkish brown medium sized lips. At five-six and about a buck fifty, he had one the nicest booties Derrick Workman had ever seen. When they caught Bernard Green in the act of fucking the boy, Derrick got a good look at that shit and couldn't believe how the young nigga was taking that dick. He tried to tell himself that he just couldn't stand to see an innocent boy go to prison like that, but the bottom line really was that the homicide detective wanted to fuck him.
And Detective Derrick Workman was used to getting what he wanted.
Corey sat silently on the bus. The label on his orange jump suit was itching the back of his neck, and his arms and legs were constrained by shackles so there wasn't shit he could do about it. The countryside scenery traveled by in a blur as he stared blankly out the window. He was vaguely aware that everyone else was just as silent and reflective as he was. The vehicle's motor would occasionally bring him back to the here and now. To the reality that he was on his way to prison for a long long ass time. He thought about his son and saw his happy smile. His heart ached and his mind raced. How the fuck did he get here?
His first stop was a diagnostic unit where he was fingerprinted, photographed and given a temporary cell. The guards behaved exactly the way he had been warned that they would. But when he set aside all the, "shut the fuck up's", "stupid nigga's" and "punk bitches" that seemed to be fixed staples of their vocabulary, he could see that they were not really mean, rude or cruel at all; simply efficient machines carrying out their duties.
There were trustees that went down the rows delivering various items to the inmates' cells in the mornings. Whatever you wanted, you could get. From candy to crack, as long as you were willing and able to pay for it. Corey noticed the dude that worked the am shift and thought he was fine, though he never really got a good look at his face.
It was the nigga's body was what caught his attention.
He was about six feet tall and one hundred-eighty-five pounds with solid well-defined muscles. In the morning when dude made his rounds, Corey observed that there was rarely anyone else up. Just about all of the inmates spent the better part of the night talking, singing or just shooting the shit, so they were dead to the world at five-thirty, six o'clock in the morning.
"Damn that nigga is fine as hell." Corey thought to himself one morning when he saw the nigga working the run. Dude noticed that Corey was up, and stopped and talked to him on his way by. As they conversated, Corey's eyes crept down to a bulge in the inmate's pants. It wasn't there because he was aroused; it was there because the nigga's dick was just that big and Corey wanted to see it. Dude said he had to go finish his rounds on the runway, and he would be back later. He didn't come back until the next morning, but they talked again when he did. The more they talked, the more the bulge in the nigga's pants seemed to grow and Corey peeped how he was moving up on the bars that were separating them, like he was trying to tell Corey something. Corey knew that making a move in prison was a very fucked up thing to do, but he was having a real hard time controlling himself. Luckily, the convict walked away saying that he'd be back. But that was only a temporary reprieve, because dude actually showed back up that time. Corey moved closer to the bars when the nigga came and talked to him about absolutely nothing.
Dude stretched his back and arms seemingly out of boredom, but while he was stretching he moved up even closer to the bars and had his crotch almost coming through them. Corey wanted to try him so bad, but he was too scared.
And it was obvious that the nigga's dick was hard.
Corey couldn't resist, so the boy took his hand and began to stroke the bulge in dude's pants through the bars. He felt the length of the inmate's growing dick as he rubbed it and then worked to release it through his zipper. When it was free the dick stood fully erect, straight up about eight and a half inches, but it was thick as hell. Corey immediately bent down and started sucking that motherfucker through the bars. He tasted a faint must as he took the dick in his mouth, and that really turned the young nigga on. Dude grabbed the sides of Corey's head and pulled it against the bars. Just when Corey was starting to get warmed up, the doors at the end of the runway started to open and they had to stop. The nigga told Corey how good the head was and swore that he would be back earlier the next morning, but as luck would have it, Corey was transferred to his permanent unit later that day.
Detective Workman pulled over and parked on Dexter near the corner of Joy Road. He sat in the conspicuous unmarked unit and waited for a street hustler-slash-prostitute-slash-crackhead-slash-informant, named Tyshawn. Derrick had known the sexy ass light skinned nigga with bright grey eyes since his days in Narcotics. He had a picturesque physique, smooth yellowish brown skin, a big dick and a phat succulent booty that didn't mind being tapped. Where most niggas Tyshawn's complexion had "good" hair, he had long nappy "nigga" hair that he kept pulled back in a ponytail. Derrick didn't trust him as far as he could see him, but he believed just about everything that the nigga told him to be the truth. Tyshawn made sure the detective understood that he was not a snitch. He would never give him any information that would send anybody to jail or to prison or even cause them to be arrested, indicted or surveilled. He mostly told the detective what was going on in the streets; the climate, the vibe or general feeling, but he eagerly provided information as to which niggas on the street got down on the low, and who was a trick, a thoroughbred or a mark. Derrick usually got his dick sucked and some ass if he had time; along with the information he requested, for a dove or two.
The detective was running a little late; he should have been there twenty minutes ago. He hoped that he hadn't missed the nigga because he really needed some information and some ass that night.
After about ten minutes, he saw the six and a half inched sexy motherfucker turn the corner, walking with the confidence that every dime seemed to have. Tyshawn strolled over to the passenger door, looked around as a force of habit and then got in.
"W'sup Officer D." Tyshawn said and gave him a pound.
"You nigga," Derrick responded, as he put the vehicle in gear and pulled off. "What's up wit this free Corey Brooks rally I'm hearin' about?" He asked.
"The nigga got twenty-five to life. You know that's fucked up, D man."
The detective looked over at the sexy motherfucker and shook his head.
"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged as he efficiently maneuvered his way into traffic, "but them niggas got caught fuckin' and the DA can't stand faggots… Then the kid wouldn't talk."
"Well Reverend Proctor and them over at True Life got som'n to say about it. The boy's mama asked him to help. First he wasn't gonna fuck wit it because of the gay shit, but he must've changed his mind cause they marchin' down at the Courthouse next week." Tyshawn informed the detective.
"His shysty ass figured it might be some money in it."
"Y'all really caught them niggas fuckin'? Dead in the act? I mean, you saw it!?"
"Everybody saw it. Bernard Green had ya boy bent over, fuckin' the shit out of him. That little nigga was takin' that dick too." Derrick told him.
"Daaamn, tha's fucked up!"
"I'ma see what I can do to help him. His PD really the one that blew it for him."
"You want to fuck that lil nigga, don't you?" Tyshawn asked, already knowing the answer.
"Naw, I just don't want to see an innocent kid go to jail like that for nothing." Detective Workman said as he whipped around a vehicle, suddenly in a hurry to get to his building.
"Yeah, right." Tyshawn observed, then closed his eyes to enjoy the ride out of the city.
After about a twenty minutes on the road, they pulled up into a driveway. They got out and went inside. Derrick Workman was thirty-one, but he looked young as hell and still got carded every time he bought some alcohol. His body was in excellent condition and at six-three, two hundred and fifteen pounds; he resembled a top flight NFL wide receiver. He was medium brown skinned with a tight fade and mustache; no beard. He lived alone in a modest home in Southfield, a suburb of Detroit and he had one daughter that lived with his ex-wife.
He was unquestionably bisexual.
Detective Workman usually didn't bring niggas from the streets to his house, but he'd been fucking with Tyshawn for a minute. And the nigga knew being homicide police, Derrick could probably shoot him and get away with it, if he wanted to. More than that, Tyshawn was actually cool people. If he wasn't fucked up on crack and living on the streets, he would almost certainly have been in Derrick's social network, maybe more. But the nigga was fucked up on crack and he was there for one reason and one reason only, to get fucked and get paid. As Derrick watched him come out of his clothes, he thought that nobody would ever know Tyshawn got down like he did by looking at him.
He was the epitome of a thug.
His body was full of jailhouse tatts and his perfect high yellow dick was standing at attention. Still fully dressed, Derrick stepped over to him and kissed the nigga. The feel of Tyshawn's moist lips and the nigga's tongue sliding in his mouth was a thrill that instantly made Derrick's dick harder than a motherfucker. Tyshawn felt it pressing against his leg and reached down to touch it. Derrick's shit pulsated in his pants and Tyshawn rubbed it while they continued to kiss. Derrick loved the way Tyshawn's naked body felt close to him. He could feel his heat through his clothes and savored the moment. Then he unbuckled his pants and pulled out a dick. that was fully erect at ten solid inches, and uncut. Tyshawn always tried to act like he didn't like sucking dick, but Derrick knew he loved that shit. His medium brown dick was the same color as his skin, dripping pre-nut and eagerly anticipating the wet warmth of Tyshawn's mouth. When the grey-eyed hustler got down on his knees and took the detective's big brown dick in his mouth, he sucked gently and moved soothingly up and down the shaft of his shit like a pro. "Damn nigga, suck that dick." Derrick urged, pushing more of it in his face. The shit was feeling good to both them niggas as Tyshawn picked up the pace and started jacking the dick at the same time that he was sucking it. "Don't stop," pleaded Derrick and he closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasure of that thugged out ass nigga sucking the hell out of his dick. After about fifteen minutes of that shit, Derrick was ready to tap that ass.
He stopped and undressed, neatly folding his clothes and placing them in a chair. Tyshawn watched the naked policeman take his weapon into his closet, dick bouncing around rock hard. When he returned to the room, Tyshawn was already on the bed laying on his stomach. Derrick saw that exquisite booty and bum rushed his tongue between the crack of that motherfucker, eating it like it was his last meal. Tyshawn rolled that booty back up in his face so that he could bury his tongue deep up in it. He had that thug nigga moaning like a bitch and that made Derrick's dick thirsty for that ass. He took his mouth from between the crack of his booty and licked his way up Tyshawn's back. When he got to his neck and started sucking on it, his dick was probing its way inside the nigga's ass. Derrick's dick found Tyshawn's bootyhole and slowly stretched it open. As he pushed his dick in, Derrick sucked harder on Tyshawn's neck. That shit felt so good to the nigga, that he opened his ass and let that big dick ease right on in. Derrick felt himself going inside the nigga and it felt good. He started long dicking that motherfucker, enjoying the lucid sensation that engulfed his penis with each stroke. Tyshawn was bucking back to feel every inch of that good dick deep in his ass.
That nigga could damn sure take a dick.
Derrick was crushing that booty, pumping in and out deeper, harder and faster until he could feel the semen about to explode from his shit. Just as he pulled his dick out the nigga's sloppy wet booty, he shot a thick creamy white stream of nut all over Tyshawn's back. As soon he felt the warm juice hit his back, Tyshawn jumped up and turned around and took that dick in his mouth, trying to catch whatever drops of cum that he could down his throat.
Corey sat outside of the building smoking one of his last Newports. There were eight of them that came together and it seemed like everyone knew someone but Corey. Niggas came up to the cage looking in and hollering at their boys and shit. They gave pounds and handshakes that Corey figured were really gang signs. Niggas kept coming and Corey noticed them checking him out, and he started getting a little nervous. That particular unit was separated into three parts; the Northside for factory workers, the trustee dorms in the middle for the outside workers, and the Southside for the field workers and lockdown inmates. At first Corey was sent to the Northside and he was sort of relieved, but he was still not quite over the fact that he was in prison.
The following Monday, Corey got a slip to move to the Southside with the field niggas and lockdown convicts, and his heart sank. When he got to the E building on the Southside he was nervous as hell. But when he walked in it, was virtually empty because everyone was out in the fields and he had a few hours before they came back. The other bunk in his cell was empty and he was glad that he would be alone, at least for the moment. That made him a little more at ease and he decided to get in a little workout, shadow boxing in his cell.
As guys began to return from the fields, Corey realized that he might have some problems. The fields have a way of making a nigga's body much harder than a regular workout did, and Corey could see the difference in these niggas' bodies. It got so loud in there that Corey wondered how anyone heard anything. There were two televisions on each side of the room at full volume and in the middle were tables on which dominoes and cards were slammed as inmates gambled and talked shit. Right next to those tables were three guys studying the bible, and next to them were three Muslims praying. It was some of the craziest shit Corey had ever seen in his life. As soon as the doors opened Corey went back into his cell because he couldn't handle the chaos.
They went to dinner at about six and after that they had outside recreation. Half the dorm went outside and the noise dissipated. Corey decided to go outside to see the sights and sat on the bleachers watching some niggas playing basketball. A convict around five-ten with a shaved head, light skin and the most amazing green eyes eased over and sat by him. His body was solid muscle, not extremely big but definitely solid muscle and he was finer than a motherfucker. He spoke causally and then pulled out a fresh pack of Newports. After putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it, he introduced himself as Joe and offered one to Corey. Not having had a cigarette since he ran out a couple of days earlier, Corey innocently accepted it. He enjoyed the nicotine and the smooth menthol sensation, like he was getting high off that shit. They kicked it a little and when Corey finished the Newport, he went back inside to lay on his bunk.
Joe also got up to go inside.
Joe was right behind him and Corey thought the nigga's cell must have been near his. Corey went to his cell and as soon as the doors opened and he stepped in, the yellow nigga stepped in with him. At first Corey thought Joe might've actually been his cellmate or something, until the motherfucker told him if he said anything he would beat the shit out him before anybody could get there. He was fine as hell and the homicidal look in his eyes kind of turned Corey on, but Corey knew that he would not be enjoying this encounter.
Life in prison was about to get real.
"Can I get paid?" The nigga asked him.
"I need to get paid for that Cadillac I just gave you." Joe told him, referring to the Newport on the yard.
"I thought you was givin' me that. I ain't got no money."
The nigga laughed at him. "Ain't shit free up in this mothafucka, bitch."
That "bitch" disrespected Corey and he knew right then and there that he had to either fight the nigga or fuck him. He really didn't want to do neither one of them, but he swung at the motherfucker anyway.
Corey missed and was quickly buckled over by a swift and powerful uppercut to his stomach, which left him open to a crushing blow to the side of his head that sent him to the floor. Corey immediately hopped up and charged head first into the nigga, slamming him against the wall of the cell. Then a flurry of punches lit up Corey's face and he could feel blood tickling from his nose and upper lip.
So much for Terry's boxing lessons.
Corey tried his best, but he was getting his ass whupped and the guards were no where to be found. There was an "understanding" between the guards and the inmates, "don't bother them and they won't bother you", that went both ways. Guards basically only came on the wing when they had to; to let someone in or out, or to see if anyone was dead. Other than that, they sat in their little room and talked shit or watched TV. So Joe grabbed Corey, wrestled him into a head-lock and pounded his fist into Corey's face a couple of times. Corey struggled to break free, but ended up on the floor with Joe's knee in his back, pinned down. "Keep fightin' and you'll be fightin' ma whole crew. Let's make this shit quick and easy, cause if you fight ma whole crew, ma whole crew gonna be up in you by the time we finished wit yo ass." Corey had heard stories about niggas being gang raped and that shit actually sounded good at the time. But with blood all over his clothes and all over the walls and floor of his cell, and his face swelling by the second; reality shattered any erotic fantasy bullshit that might've been in the back of his mind. "I'm fina let you go and you gonna do exactly what I tell you to. If you scream for help, everybody will know yous a bitch ass nigga and they will be takin' turns on yo ass every night. If you keep fightin' I'ma call ma niggas up in here and we gonna be takin' turns on yo ass every night." Joe made the situation very clear to Corey and then released him.
"Fuck you!" Corey said and swung at the nigga again, but Joe easily ducked out of the way and charged back at him.
"No, I'm 'bout to fuck you nigga." He spoke directly into Corey's ear as he jacked him up against the wall, pissed the fuck off that he had to work so hard to break the young boy. Joe let him go and then pulled out his long yellow dick. "If you make any noise everybody will know what's happening and want some too." He said, just before punching the nigga in the face again. "Now suck ma dick right now!" Corey looked at Joe's nine inch dick and wanted to ram his knee into that motherfucker, but he was too afraid and defeated to try anything else. Joe slapped him upside the head, "I said suck ma mothafuckin' dick, nigga!"
Corey reluctantly got down on his knees and took dude's dick in his mouth. Then Joe grabbed the back of his head and shoved his shit down the boy's throat. He was so rough that he made Corey gag and Corey never gagged sucking a dick. But Corey wasn't really sucking his dick, it was just in his mouth. Joe removed his dick from Corey's mouth and punched the young nigga dead in the face again, "Stop actin' like you don't know how to suck a dick, bitch."
Corey had to use all the inner strength in his soul to keep from crying like a bitch as Joe slammed him down on his bunk and demanded him to take his pants off. Corey refused and Joe commenced to beating the fuck out him until he had the nigga's pants down and his pretty brown booty tooted up in the air. He poured some lotion on that ass and stuck his huge dick right up in that motherfucker. He rammed his shit deep up in that ass and started fucking the nigga like he was trying to kill him. Corey was in excruciating pain, but he didn't make a sound and Joe was enjoying the shit, tapping the bottom of that booty with each inward thrust. "Damn this ass feel like pussy," he grunted as he vigorously punished Corey's rectum. He smashed relentlessly in and out of Corey's anal cavity and kept fucking until he busted two nuts, and had semen dripping out that nigga's ass. He got up and looked at the young boy with disgust, then threw him a pack of Newports and left.
Corey was fucked up. He couldn't believe the shit happened to him just that quick, but all he could do about it right then, was clean himself up. Seething with anger, for the first time in his life Corey wanted to murder a motherfucker.
Three days later that nigga Joe was found in the back of the kitchen, dead. Stabbed seven times in the groin.
Bernard Green was coming to the E Building on the Southside and Corey Brooks had mixed feelings about that shit. Bernard was part of the reason why he was in prison serving twenty-five fucking years to life. And even though he never turned states on the nigga, Corey didn't have shit to say to the motherfucker. As far as Corey was concerned, Bernard should have told them that he ain't have shit to do with shit. He didn't and Corey really wanted to hate his ass, but the dick was just too damned good.
Corey actually had regular dreams about that big beautiful eleven inched dick tearing his booty up and that shit pissed him off. Mainly because the dreams were always followed by the nightmare of the police rolling in on them and catching Bernard with his shit deep up in Corey. That haunting smirk on the face of the homicide detective who interrogated Corey and promised to send him away for a long ass time if he didn't cooperate, never left his mind. Detective Derrick Workman twisted Corey's words and put other ones in his mouth, assuming Corey was the ringleader because the motel room was in his name. By the time he got finished with him, Corey had told the detective his life story; including the fact that he loved dick. And Corey had no idea how that motherfucker pulled all that shit out of him.
It seemed like every cop in the building was laughing at Corey, grabbing dicks and shit, and fucking with him when they passed by the little room where he was being held for questioning. And if he didn't know any better, Corey really would have thought Detective Workman wanted to fuck him. He actually considered trying to give him some to get out of the shit, but the truth was that Corey didn't know anything about the two-point-five keys of dope or the twelve pounds of weed that they found in the room. He knew that the bags were in the room but he didn't know what was in them, and he damn sure didn't know about the dead nigga Ronnie Lewis, that homicide accused him of conspiring to kill.
And yet, Corey Brooks was sitting in prison trying to recover from the physical affects being raped the week before by a nigga named Joe. The same nigga that popped up dead a few days later and who's crew was about to come after Corey for it. Corey knew that Bernard Green was a crip just like them niggas, and hoped for his protection. And even though he couldn't stand the motherfucker, Corey still wondered if he wanted some more of that dick.
Those mixed feelings had him fucked up.
As soon as Bernard got to the unit he got with the crew that wanted to do Corey. Ronnie Lewis was a high ranked blood, and his murder gave Bernard a little status with them crip niggas. After days of waiting for something to happen, Corey was shocked when Bernard showed up at his cell with his shit, moving in.
Dude didn't even get in the cell good before he pressed up on Corey. He said, "You know I wasn't finished wit dat ass, right?" Corey couldn't respond, he just looked at him. There was so much he wanted to say to the motherfucker, that he didn't know where to start. Bernard saw Corey's black eye and shit, and asked what happened to him, even though he already knew the answer.
"You nigga!" Corey shouted. "You what happened to me. You got me fucked up in this shit. I got raped cause I'm in prison and I'm in prison because of you." Corey said and then stormed out the cell. Bernard already knew Corey had gotten raped and that everybody thought Corey killed the nigga that did it. When he found out that dude's crew was going to kill Corey, he stopped them by paying blood money for the nigga's death. He also paid for the right to make Corey his bitch and paid staff to put him in Corey's cell, all of which in fact saved the little nigga's life. Bernard spent a lot of money trying to do the right thing and repay Corey for his loyalty, when he could have said, "Fuck him." Regardless of how Corey was acting, Bernard knew that the dick was good to the nigga, so he just sat and waited for him to come back.
Corey didn't return to his cell until lock down at eleven o'clock. When he got back he noticed that Bernard must've put a bunch of commissary shit on his bunk and Bernard was sound asleep. He put the stuff away and laid down, but he couldn't sleep so he got back up. "Bernard," he said trying to wake his cellmate up. "Bernard!" He called again, shaking him.
"You put that shit on ma bunk?"
"Yeah why?" Bernard asked.
"You think you tryin' to buy me or som'n?"
"I already own you nigga," he answered and rolled back over in his bunk.
"What?" Corey asked in shock.
"Don't worry nigga. I got you. Ain't nobody gonna fuck wit you no more." Bernard told him trying to get back to sleep.
"I ain't nobody bitch." Corey protested.
"Of course not." Bernard humored him.
"I'm serious Bernard, I ain't nobody's bitch. I don't need shit from you."
"Nigga you'd be dead if it wasn't for me, quit trippin'."
"No, I'd be at home wit ma girl, playin' wit ma son and shit, if it wasn't for you mothafucka!" Corey shot back.
That got Bernard up.
He knew Corey was right, but he wasn't trying to be hearing that shit everyday for the rest of the time that they were in that cell together, so he stepped over to Corey and kissed him to shut his ass up. And as much as he wanted not to, Corey kissed him back.
"I'm sorry you got caught up in this shit. I can't change that," Bernard said after he got Corey's attention with the kiss, "but on the real Corey, I'm tryin' to make it a little easier for you. I don't want no bitch, I don't need no bitch. I want a nigga, and I was hopin' that would be you." He made his point and started kissing Corey again and all the ill feelings that the young boy had toward Bernard began to dissolve just that quick. Bernard's lips played with Corey's and he felt Bernard's warm breath and tongue enter his mouth. Bernard kissed him like he really gave a fuck about him. His tenderness was genuine and Corey let himself get caught up in the moment. "I been dreamin' about yo ass for damn near six months," Bernard said as he slowly undressed, revealing his sculptured midnight black body and thick rock solid eleven inched dick. Corey caught a flash-back of that big motherfucker tearing his booty wide open and he wanted some more of that dick. Corey came out of his clothes and Bernard focused his attention on his nice phat ass. He pressed up on Corey and kissed him again, grabbing his butt cheeks with both hands and squeezing them. He started sucking the little nigga's neck and that shit sent chills all through Corey's body. It felt so good to Corey that he pulled Bernard over to his bunk and eased down on it with him. Bernard alternated his tongue from side to side licking and sucking on Corey's neck. He was making love to the nigga in their prison cell as his mouth traveled all up and down Corey's body. Corey moaned little ecstatic sighs of pleasure when the nigga's lips and tongue caressed his inner thighs searching for his bootyhole. Bernard raised Corey's legs up in front of him until Corey's knees were at his head and Bernard could see his pretty brown bootyhole. He licked it and it puckered like it was winking at him. Then he buried his mouth in that motherfucker and Corey went crazy.
"Mmm, eat that booty nigga," he moaned as Bernard licked the outer edge of his hole, then stuck his tongue in and twirled it around inside that motherfucker. Bernard came up and smacked that ass one good time before he got up and grabbed some vaseline. His dick was hard as hell when he placed Corey's legs on his shoulders and began to slide that big black greasy motherfucker up into Corey's hungry ass. Corey was so ready for the dick that he didn't feel much pain when that thick long pipe stretched his opening wide and worked its way deep up in him. Bernard's tongue and lips caressed Corey's neck, and helped to dissolve what little pain Corey felt. When he got to the bottom of the young nigga's guts, Bernard started pumping in and out that shit, nice and slow. Dicking him down. He watched his dick slide in and out that beautiful light brown booty and it felt like it was massaging his dick with every thrust.
Corey loved that good dick.
He started to jack his shit to Bernard's rhythm while the temple slowly increased and that dick slammed up in him over and over. That shit was getting good to both them niggas, but neither one of them was ready to bust.
"Is this ma pussy?" Bernard asked him while plunging his dick deeper and deeper up in that ass. "Huh nigga?" When he didn't get a response fast enough, Bernard's dick went fanatic on Corey's booty, beating that motherfucker like it stole something. "Who pussy is this?" He asked again as his dick destroyed the young boy's guts. "Huh?"
Still no answer.
So Bernard rolled all the way back with his shit still deep up in the nigga, until Corey was on top riding Bernard's dick and jacking off in Bernard's face. That's when Corey went buck wild. He started bouncing up and down on that dick and jacking his shit like a mad man. Bernard felt that orgasmic sensation start to build in his nut sacks as Corey twirled his booty in a circular motion while moving up and down the shaft of Bernard's dick and jacking his at the same time. That shit felt good as hell and Bernard told him, "This yo dick nigga! Go ahead and get that motherfucker like you want it." And Corey kept jacking his dick and riding Bernard until his whole body trembled with pleasure.
"Oh shit! I'm nut'n nigga!" Corey shouted and sprayed a hot stream of cum all over Bernard. As soon as that shit hit him, Bernard's eyes rolled to back of his head and his big black greasy dick exploded deep in the depths of Corey's tender ass. Corey was still rolling that ass when he bent over and kissed Bernard and told him, "Yeah, this yo booty nigga."
Detective Derrick Workman stood way in the back of the rally and watched. He felt kind of fucked up because all of those people were really there because of him. He was the one that refused to believe that Corey was innocent. He really and truly thought that Corey Brooks was the brains behind the Ronnie Lewis robbery and murder. Them other niggas just didn't seem smart enough for that shit. By the time he realized that he was dead wrong the District Attorney, Frank Carletto had taken the shit and run with it and it was out of his hands. Detective Workman listened to speakers rally and demand Corey's release, and he found himself chanting; "Free Corey Brooks," along with everyone else in the crowd. Derrick was ready to go then. Being the arresting officer at the boy's freedom rally just did not feel right. But as he was turning to leave, he saw who he thought was a nigga named Pookie up on the platform with Reverend Richard Proctor, and couldn't believe it.
Pookie Jones was the worst dope fiend in all of Detroit. He was sexy ass hell, but he would steal anything that wasn't nailed down. They called him Pookie because he was a straight up hope-to-die crack fiend like "Pookie" in "New Jack City". But anytime he washed his ass and put on some clean clothes, though; he was finer than a motherfucker. Derrick used to give the nigga a few dollars every now and then, and even let him go when he caught him with a hit or two of crack a couple of times, while Derrick was still in Narcotics.
All for a small fee of course.
One time Derrick even let Pookie smoke some crack while Derrick was fucking him. He never let nobody do that before, not even Tyshawn and Tyshawn was his boy. But Pookie said that was the only way he could take a dick and Derrick wanted the booty that bad.
Derrick recalled that it was some good ass too.
The last few times the detective saw Pookie he was really fucked up. Too nasty and stanking to even think about doing shit with, all Derrick could do was tell him to go get some help. Now dude was standing up there with Reverend Proctor looking good as hell. At least Derrick thought it was the nigga. He decided to stick around a little bit and try and speak to Pookie, if it was him.
After the rally, Derrick eased his way up toward the podium and discreetly waited to holler at his boy. By then he could see that it was definitely Pookie. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Derrick snuck up on him and tapped his shoulder, "Excuse me Mr. Jones, may I have a word with you?" He said in his official police voice and Pookie turned around slightly alarmed.
"D! Man, don't be scarin' a nigga like that. What's up?" He said as he gave the cop a pound and a hug.
"You nigga! Lookin' good. Way better than the last time I saw yo ass."
"Yeah, I’m doin' alright. Been clean for 'bout two and a half years."
"Damn man that's what's up! Peoples shit is a lot safer now, that's for sure." Derrick joked, and laughed with Pookie. "What's good wit you?"
"Stayin' clean and goin' to meetings, that's about it for me dog. You all dressed up. What's up wit the suit and tie and shit?" Pookie asked.
"I'm homicide nigga!" Derrick proudly declared, "I let all that t-shirt and jeans shit go. Gotta look like I'm serious about puttin' muthafuckas away."
"Homicide!?" He leaned into Derrick's ear and whispered, "If I let you hit it again, can a nigga get away wit murder?" They both laughed.
"Hell naw! Ain't you heard? We lockin' innocent kids up, nigga. You better ask somebody." Derrick shot back.
"Yeah I know. What's up wit that anyway? Corey Brooks was ma man, that nigga ain't no murderer. Y'all mothafuckas doin' too much."
"The DA. He the one. And that nigga's public defender." Derrick told him then changed the subject before he had to tell him that he was the one who actually arrested and charged Corey, "Damn, you look good as hell nigga. No bullshit. I'm glad you got off that shit. So what you doin' now?"
"I work at a warehouse delivering windshields."
"Muthafuckas let you drive they shit? Unbelievable. Yo, you owe a nigga lunch or dinner or som'n got-damnit, as many times as I let yo ass walk." Derrick said fucking with Pookie.
"Shit, I can't be seen wit no police nigga, I got a rep to protect," he joked.
"You ain't give a fuck about no rep when yo ass was smokin' crack, nigga."
"Aww, that's cold D man," he said laughing, "but you right though. Gimme ya number or som'n and we'll get up. I'ma take yo ass to McDonald's for happy meal or some shit." They laughed and exchanged numbers. Derrick gave the nigga a pound and a hug and he was out.
Derrick was genuinely happy to see Pookie clean. He wished his boy Tyshawn would get clean. If Tyshawn got clean, he thought; he would probably be his nigga. Then the thought occurred to him to get them niggas together. Maybe Pookie could tell Tyshawn something that might help him. Maybe he could tap Pookie ass again. Maybe he could fuck both them niggas at the same time.
Derrick was a freak like that, always trying to get up in something.
Less than two weeks later, Derrick was down on Joy Road with Pookie waiting for Tyshawn. They were in Derrick's 4Runner and Pookie was feeling real uncomfortable in the hood, even though he'd been there many times when he was fucked up on that shit. Pookie didn't get okay until Tyshawn was in the truck and they were on their way out to Southfield.
"Yo, Pookie this Tyshawn. Tyshawn this Pookie." Derrick said, introducing them.
"Waddup, yo." Said Pookie extending his hand to Tyshawn.
"What's up." Responded Tyshawn as he took the Pookie's hand and shook it. Tyshawn thought the Pookie nigga was kind of tight. He was a dark skinned brother with a close cropped full beard and mustache, and a nice short trimmed afro. Tyshawn found it hard to believe that dude was ever fucked up on crack, but Derrick had told him stories that made even him think that it was a good thing dude got some help.
Pookie checked out Tyshawn and thought the nigga was fine as hell. The sexy ass high yellow cat with grey eyes and long nappy hair didn't look like he was as fucked up in the game as Derrick said he was, but Pookie knew plenty of people that managed to maintain a good appearance even though they were strung the fuck out.
When they got out to Derrick's house he let them niggas make themselves at home while he changed out of his suit and shit. Pookie and Tyshawn hit it off from the jump and started playing "Madden" on Derrick's PS3. By the time Derrick came back it was like they had known each other for years. While playing the video game, Tyshawn would strategically rub his dick in between plays and Pookie noticed Tyshawn's dick rising in his pants, which made his shit grow a little bit too. Both them boys was ready to get into something and Derrick just sat back and watched them niggas. Pookie's Randy Moss had Tyshawn beat for a touchdown and Tyshawn reached over to try and fuck Pookie up on his controller, but ended up with his hand on Pookie's dick instead. Pookie's shit jumped in his pants and Tyshawn kept feeling on that motherfucker.
For all intents and purposes, the game was over when Pookie took Tyshawn's hand and guided it along the swelling dick in his pants. Derrick stepped over to them and bent over and kissed Tyshawn in the mouth. Pookie saw them niggas french kissing and he wanted to join in, so he put his mouth in the mix and all three of their mouths, lips and tongues danced around in a triangle, from Pookie to Tyshawn to Derrick; locked in a three-way kiss. Derrick dropped his sweats and his smooth medium brown dick stood erect at ten inches.
Tyshawn immediately pushed the meat back from Derrick's uncircumcised head and placed his tongue between its slit and licked it. Pookie continued to play with Derrick's tongue his mouth while they kissed, and Pookie's dick was hard as hell. He watched Tyshawn sucking the shit out of Derrick's dick, and then Tyshawn started fumbling with Pookie's zipper until he released his dripping hard penis from its restraints. Pookie's shit was just as long as Derrick's, though not quite as thick and it was shiny and black. Then Tyshawn, the nigga that always tried to act like he didn't like sucking dick, came up off of Derrick's shit and wrapped his lips around Pookie's. By that time Derrick had lost all of his clothes and was butt naked. His body was a firm specimen of muscle and Pookie began to lick and suck on Derrick's nipples and shit, while coming completely out of his clothes. Tyshawn dropped his drawers and shit too without missing a beat, going back and forth sucking both them niggas' dicks. At one point he even tried to get them dicks in his mouth at the same time. Then Pookie bent down and took Derrick's dick to his brain while Tyshawn was on his and Pookie could taste Derrick's pre-cum. As Pookie bobbed his head up and down Derrick's shit, he felt Tyshawn savoring his dick, moving and sucking slow, and getting it all down his throat. Soon, Derrick was ready to fuck. Pookie was too. He wanted to fuck Tyshawn's light brownish yellow ass bad, and Pookie took his hand and placed it on Tyshawn's booty while Tyshawn was bent over sucking Pookie's dick. Pookie grabbed that ass and squeezed it, then he probed Tyshawn's bootyhole with his index finger. That shit felt good to Tyshawn and he started rolling his ass all up on Pookie's finger.
Derrick saw that shit and wanted to do the same thing to Pookie, while Pookie was sucking Derrick's dick, but when he got a good look at his pretty black ass, he had to eat that motherfucker instead. So he pulled his dick out of Pookie's mouth, slipped behind him, opened his booty cheeks up wide and shoved his face up in the nigga's ass.
Pookie went crazy behind that shit and was shoving his dick in Tyshawn's mouth.
Tyshawn took every inch of that motherfucker down his throat and didn't gag one bit. Tyshawn decided that he wanted some head too and got off of Pookie's dick and put his dripping nine and a half inches in Pookie's face. Pookie gobbled that dick right up, while Derrick ate Pookie's ass like it was chocolate booty ice cream or some shit. At that point Pookie wanted to get fucked, but he had never had no dick up in him without smoking crack; and he certainly wasn't about to do that dumb shit. Pookie started playing with Tyshawn's asshole while he was sucking Tyshawn's dick. First one finger, then two and then three of his fingers were tickling inside and out of that yellow bootyhole. He had Tyshawn's ass ready for some dick and the yellow nigga turned his ass around and commenced to backing that motherfucker up on Pookie's long black dick. Pookie felt the sweet sensation of his dick sliding up in Tyshawn raw at the same time that Derrick was fucking Pookie's booty with his wicked tongue.
Pookie was fucking the shit out of Tyshawn and Derrick was eating the fuck out of Pookie's ass. When Derrick and Tyshawn had the nigga ready, respectively with their tongue and ass, Derrick stood up, spit on his dick and ever so gently eased that thick brown motherfucker into Pookie's ass while Pookie was fucking Tyshawn. Tyshawn's tight ass was gripping Pookie's shit as he pumped in and out of him, and Pookie felt nothing but good when Derrick's dick prodded slowly inside of him. Derrick looked over Pookie's shoulder and he could see Pookie's dick moving in and out of Tyshawn's pretty ass yellow booty.
That shit made him thrust deep up in Pookie and Pookie took that dick like he wanted it. Tyshawn was throwing that ass back at Pookie and Pookie was throwing his ass back at Derrick. Tyshawn could hear both those dicks slipping and sliding in and out both their asses and Tyshawn started jacking off. Derrick pulled no punches on Pookie's near virgin-like booty, tearing that motherfucker up and Pookie would thrust forward into Tyshawn every time Derrick hit the bottom of his ass, almost from reflexes. Pretty soon they were all in one rhythm; Derrick fucking Pookie, Pookie fucking Tyshawn and Tyshawn jacking his dick. The rhythm started to build and them niggas were going faster and faster. Pookie cried out first, "Oh shit niggas, I’m 'bout to bust!" And then he came up inside of Tyshawn who in turn shot his nut out onto Derrick's floor.
Derrick on the other hand, kept fucking.
He was jamming his shit up in Pookie like a maniac and the dick was starting to hurt Pookie because he had already nutted. But Derrick continued to crush that phat black ass. He was grunting and sweating, and the shit sounded so good that Tyshawn had to turn around and watch the nigga pound the fuck out of Pookie. Finally when Tyshawn stepped over to Derrick and tongued him deep in his mouth while he was fucking Pookie, Derrick blasted his nut up in the nigga. All them niggas was spent after that shit and they collapsed down onto Derrick's floor and just laid there.
Corey hated being on the Southside, and having to get up at four o'clock in the morning to go out and work in the fields. He thought he knew exactly how his ancestors must have felt back in the day, with all the weeds and trees and shit they had to chop down. He was on a crew with two old heads, a racist white boy and a fine ass young nigga named Zandré. Zandré was almost nineteen-years-old, but he had been locked up since he was fifteen and he had the body of a grown ass man. He was six feet seven and a good two hundred and thirty pounds. If he hadn't been locked up for possession of a controlled substance with intent, attempted murder and aggravated assault; he probably would have been on his way to the NBA. The sexy young boy was reddish brown skinned with a free flowing semi-fro that he occasionally wore in cornrolls. He had hazel-brown eyes, flared nostrils on a flat triangular nose and thick red lips that affirmed his dominant African gene pool. Without much working out his body was exquisitely well defined with only two or three percent body fat. Whenever he took off his shirt and exposed his perfectly flat and chiseled abs, Corey had to leave the area so he wouldn't stare at the motherfucker. Dude always seemed to be up in Corey's face. Whether they were at work or back in the dorms.
Bernard wasn't feeling Zandré at all.
He was jealous of him being around his nigga so much and Bernard was ready to step to Zandré about his, but didn't want to put him and Corey's shit out there like that. So he just grinned and bared it.
Corey liked hanging out with Zandré. Not only because they were the same age, but Zandré was playful and childish just like Corey's best friend growing up and Zandré sort of took him back to a better time and place. And Corey never really thought about having sex with the motherfucker. That was different. Zandré had been there for Corey after the rape. Even though Corey never told Zandré the real story, Zandré helped him nurse his wounds and helped him get around when he couldn't walk on his own. As far as Corey was concerned they were just friends.
But Zandré had other ideas.
He knew that Corey and Bernard were "kicking it", but he didn't give a fuck, because he wanted Corey regardless. Zandré started doing little shit on purpose; both to let Corey know what was up and to make that nigga Bernard mad. Shit like, giving Corey commissary and cigarettes in front of dude; and touching and feeling all on him whenever Corey made him laugh or something. One night Zandré waited until he saw Corey going to take a shower and went to take one too. Making sure that Bernard, who was playing dominos at a nearby table, noticed him follow Corey into the shower as if they had planned it and was trying to sneak or something.
Corey had no clue what was going on. Zandré innocently walked into the shower and went to the opposite end to watch Corey. When he saw Corey's beautiful ass all wet and soapy, Zandré's dick started to rise.
Corey caught a glimpse of Zandré out of the corner of his eyes.
That was the first time he had seen Zandré's shit and the thick perfectly cut dick was standing erect at close to ten inches. Dark cherry brown, rock hard and demonstrating an unmistakable power and supremacy, the motherfucker invited Corey to absorb its magnificence and Corey found himself being drawn to it. The water beading off of Zandré's gorgeous dick and stunning body in the shower made him irresistible, and Corey found himself moving toward Zandré without even thinking about it.
The next thing Corey knew, he was on his knees sucking the sexy nigga's dick in the shower, the worst place to be doing that shit. He slowly engulfed it with the warm moisture of his mouth and softly sucked teasingly as he moved up and down Zandré's enormous shaft.
Bernard had crept up on them while the whole thing was jumping off and he fumed with rage at the entrance way to the shower, watching his nigga suck Zandré's dick. Of course this was all going smoothly according to Zandré's plan. He had already killed for Corey once and Zandré couldn't wait to do it again.