BROTHERS LIKE US by Lawrence Michael Martell
Chapter 14
He was born Yul Bennerman in Kingston, Jamaica but he was called 'Rasta' because of his long dreadlocks which hung down to his butt. He was an older man, about fifty, and he stood about 5ft 11in tall and weighed a trim and healthy 175 lbs. He was an avid soccer player and worked out everyday. He bore more than a passing resemblance to Morgan Freeman, if Morgan Freeman had long dreadlocks that reached his lower back.
To the general public, Yul Bennerman was a respected, wealthy and influential businessman. A widower, a father and grnadfather. I man who gave to all the charities and backed politicians whose platforms were to help the people, especiall African American people. A man who has broken bread with the Governor, help to elect Senator Dyson and was seen as the man who could get rid of the current mayor if he chose to do so. But to the public didn't know that Yul Bennerman was the equivolent of a Mafia Godfather. A man that created a vast crime empire and who now sits back and watch all his work make money for him. He was not a man to be crossed nor to get on his bad side. He lived in a palatial, gated 50 acre estate in one of the most exclusive communities in the city. It was impressive and intimidating even to Victor, who had thought he couldn't be intimidated by anything.
As he and Errol drove up the long driveway after clearing the security gate,the mansion came into view. It was a three story mansion, white and it reminded Victor of those mansions he had seen pictures of in Jamaica.
"This motherfucker got bank!" Victor commented. The SUV pulled up to the front of the house and before either man could get out, a man wearing a butler's uniform came out and opened the doors for them. He directed them to the front door, which was opened by another uniformed butler.
"Mr. Bennerman is expecting you," He said, "Let me take you to the study."
Victor and Errol followed the butler and as Victor walked past objects de art and all the grand finery of the mansion he knew that this is what he wanted and this was what he was going to get and nothing was going to stop him. They arrived at the study, which was a large room filled with shelves of books, a fireplace, a wetbar and a huge mahogany desk in the center of the room with a state of the art computer system sitting on it. The room gave off a feeling of great power even the air smelled of power and Victor was filled with jealousy and respect for the man called "Rasta".
"Mr. Bennerman is in a conference now but he said he will be with you as soon as possible and for you to make yourself at home. Would you gentlemen like a drink?"
Victor nodded his head but Errol declined.
"Gimme a scotch on the rocks." Victor remembered the drink from a movie he and Shane had been watching. The guy drinking it was wealthy and powerful and right now that was what he wanted to feel.
"Very good sir. My name is Jarrold and if you needed anything just let me know."
Victor watched as Jarrold went and made his drink and then brought it back to him. The butler excused himself and left the study closing the door behind him. Victor sipped the drink and made a face. Damn, scotch tastes nasty but he would learn to like it cause he was going to be a rich motherfucker.
It was fifteen minutes later when Yul "Rasta" Bennerman walked in wearing a light gray italian suit. He apologized to both men, shaking their hands and offering them another drink. Victor declined. He was mesmerized by Rasta. First, there was his accent, there was none. He sounded smooth and cool like Billy Dee Williams. Second, he gave off an aura of power and wealth that gave Victor goosebumps. He wondered if this was how the gangsters felt when they met the Godfather or something. Rasta fixed himself a scotch too and Victor smiled...yeah, it was the right drink. Rasta sat behind his desk, interlocked his fingers and he leaned back and smiled.
"So you are Victor "New Orleans" Du Bois." He said. "I have heard about you."
Victor smiled. "I heard about you too, Mr. Bennerman." Victor had never called anyone mister before but sitting in the room with the man he found himself overwhelmed.
"Please. You may call me 'Rasta'. We are among friends here."
"Okay...Rasta," Victor said trying it out. "This is my...associate Errol."
Rasta nodded at Errol. "Errol? I have a cousin named Errol. How are you my friend?"
Errol nodded. "I'm fine."
"Good." Rasta sipped his drink. "So you want the product that I have for you."
"Yes, Mr. Bennerman...I mean Rasta...yeah."
"Okay, well this is the deal. I get fifty percent of your profits. I get 20 percent in the first quarter, 15 percent on the second quarter, 10 on the third and 5 on the fourth. If you miss paying me my percentage even one quarter then I reserve the right to reclaim the product and you still have to pay me the fifty percent that is due. Is that acceptable?"
Victor ran it through his mind. It was a bit more than he wanted to give up but considering the potential they would have money to burn.
"Yeah, that's good."
Rasta smiled. He reached into his desk and pulled out a card and walked over and handed it to Victor.
"This man...his name is Lennox. You call that number and he will know what to do." Rasta explained.
Victor glanced at the card and then put the card in his pocket. The door opened and Jarrold walked in and whispered something to Rasta.
"Okay, Jarrold. Tell him to wait and I will be with him in a minute."
"Very good sir!"
Rasta turned back to his guests. "Gentlemen you will forgive me but I have another matter to address. Jarrold will show you out and I want to thank you for coming by."
"Thank you sir." Victor said as he and Errol rose and followed Jarrold out of the study.
The departed the mansion and once inside the SUV they were on their way. Victor pulled out the card and smiled with satisfaction.
"Errol, my nigga, we are bout to be the riches motherfuckers around."
"Whatcha wanna do now?" Errol asked.
"My brotha, I'm gonna celebrate with my baby so drop me off at the crib."
"Aight," Errol said with a nod of his head. "Oh...I almost forgot I got some info on that detective."
"Yeah? Whatcha got?"
"The detective turns out was working for Jamar."
"You shittin' me?"
"No. Word is that he was one of Jamar's enforcers."
"Punk assed nigga had a cop on his payroll. Damn!" Victor thought for a second. "So why wasn't the cop with Jamar the night we hit. I mean they were settin' up to take us out."
He was on duty that night." Errol said.
"On duty? Why would he be on duty when Jamar and his boys are plannin' a hit?"
"Don't know. I do know that your detective has been investigated by the police internal affairs."
"A dirty cop. Aight. Errol, keep an eye on him and let me know anything more that you find out."
"No prob."
"What about Bund? What is that nigga doin'?" Victor asked.
"Forming his own crew, right now."
"Yeah? What that nigga got on his mind?" Victor asked.
Errol looked at Victor. "Taking you out."
Victor laughed. "That stupid nigga. He must think I'm weak. He think he can take me out. I'll show that punk motherfucker who got the juice and who rules the kingdom."
"So you want me to make the plans for the hit?"
Victor thought for a second. "No. Let Bund think he's doin' something. Let him get his crew built up and when he does we take them all the fuck out."
"Aight."
"Errol, once we get this deal off and runnin' we will handle the unfinished business with Bund and then...The Detective."
"Bet."
"But right now, I'm gonna celebrate with my baby."
Shane was leaving for work and Sean was in his usual position in front of the TV watching 'One Life To Live' and eating a sandwich. He wasn't even dressed, he was wearing the same old pajama bottoms he'd been wearing since coming home. He hadn't shaved and he looked a mess. He didn't go out and he had taken an unspecified leave of absence from his job. Shane did not like what he was seeing with his brother. He rarily left the house and when he did it was brief and it was only with someone he knew like himself and Victor or Eric. Shane had tried to get Sean to get back into life but Sean didn't seem interested and the more he approached the subject the more agitated and angry he got. Shane had dropped the subject but not completely. When Sean was released the doctor's had wanted him to talk to a rape counselor, which he refused to do as well. Shane contacted the rape counseling center and asked them to call and speak to Sean at the very least. So far the call had not come and Shane was about to give up on the entire thing. Shane could only hope that they would call soon, before he lost his brother forever. Shane left a note for Victor telling him that he had to go to the gym for a bit and to join him there and he left not wishing to watch his brother's decline.
Sean heard the front door close and knew Shane had left the house and he was relieved. The since coming home Shane had been on him to see the rape counselor and to get back into life and go out and he was tired of hearing it. It was easy for Shane and everyone else to say that but they hadn't been raped and he had. He was the one having the nightmares, he was the one jumping everytime he heard a sound outside. He was the one who couldn't sleep at night until he had gone through the entire house and made sure the doors and windows were all locked. He was even looking under his bed every time he went to bed. Who was he looking for? Silk Mitchell. Yes, he knew he was dead but Silk was haunting his memories and dreams. He remembered looking at a piece of mail that was delivered to them by mistake and it was address to a S. Mitchell and Sean's heart stopped cold. Yeah, it was easy for Shane to give out advice, his life was perfect. He had a job, a boyfriend, a life. He wasn't being held prisoner by nightmares and fears. He hadn't been raped and violated. He wasn't the one that could still feel the hands and body of Silk Mitchell all over him. He wasn't the one who could smell Silk's breath and who could hear his voice. Who the fuck was Shane to give him advice? Who was anyone to give him advice. No one could tell him a goddamn thing unless they had been in his shoes and no one else could.
The telephone rang just as 'One Life To Live' was going off. Sean ignored the ringing phone. Five minutes later the phone rang again. He ignored it. Three minutes it rang again. He ignored it. Another three minutes it rang and Sean was getting annoyed. Finally after another series of rings he snatched up the phone.
"You know if no one answers the damn phone then perhaps they don't want to be bothered." Sean snapped hotly.
"I'm sorry. I may I speak to Sean Jackson please?" was the response from the caller.
"Who wants to talk to him?" Sean asked, suspicious of this man.
"My name is Matthew Siad Muhammed from the Rape Counseling Center but you can call me Matt."
"Well listen, Brother Siad Muhammed, I'm not interested in talking to a rape counselor."
"Are you sure?" Matthew asked, "Rape is a violent act and it can be traumatic."
"OH REALLY? You THINK?" Sean snapped back. "I had no fucking idea!"
Matthew was undetered. "Yes and I know you are trying to deal with this all by yourself."
"Oh yeah? And what do you know, Mr. Matthew Siad Muhammed? Huh? Tell me since you know so much?"
"I know your upset. I know that you are afraid to leave the house. I know you are having nightmares...that you think the man that raped you is hiding in every corner of your house and is lurking around the corner."
"And I know that you are getting on my last fucking nerve, Mr. Siad Muhammed so I'm going to hang up now. Goodbye!"
"So this is what you do? When someone is right you hang up on them and run away? That's fine but I should let you know that I will call you back."
"You know what? Save your damn dime. You don't know what I'm going through so you don't need to call back here...ever."
"Really?"
"Yes, You are trained to know what to say but until you have been raped you will never..."
"I was raped."
Sean was silent for a second. "What did you say?"
"It was five years ago. I was twenty five years old."
"W...What happened?" Sean asked.
"I was on a date...a blind date with a man that was definitely Mr. Wrong. We didn't hit it off...or at least I didn't hit of with him and I was ready for the date to be over. Finally, after spending a boring hour with him he took me home or at least that is what he said he was going to do. But we ended up at his house. He said he had to get something and he would be back in a minute. I sat in his car and waited and after about fifteen minutes I knocked on his door and asked him what was up. He claimed he was on the phone and was finishing up. He invited me in to and offered me a glass of wine and he went back to his phone convo. I accepted the wine and the next thing I knew I was feeling light-headed and dizzy like I was on a major buzz and no alcohol had ever done that to me. Then Mr. Wron came over and had this weird smile on his face and the next thing I knew he had his hands all over me. I tried to fight him off but he said that he paid alot for the date and that I owed him for it. Before long he had my clothes off and there was nothing I could do. I tried to fight but my hands and feet just weren't working. I couldn't think, my head was fuzzy and by the time I could think he had raped me, dressed me and had the nerve to take me home and leave me on the front step and left."
"What...What did you do?" Sean asked.
"Well, I broke down and cried like a baby. I went inside and I took a shower and I scrubbed my body so hard that my skin was stinging with pain. I stayed locked away in my apartment for weeks. I had nightmares of him coming back and raping me again. I was afraid to leave the house for anything. I stopped working. I cut off my family and friends...who didn't know I was gay then. I was a total mess and then one day. One day I was looking at myself in the mirror and I said Enough. It was time to get things right again. I had to live. I was not going to let that sonofabitch control my life."
"So what happened?" Sean asked, engrossed now.
"I called the police and told them what had happened. I pressed charges against him and told the police where he lived and where to find him. I pressed charges but I had made a mistake. When I was raped I should have went straight to the police but by me cleaning and scrubbing my body there was no evidence they could use to convict him for raping me."
"So he never went to prison?"
"No but Allah works in wonderous ways and he protects his children from evil. Two months after this happened he was at a male strip clothes trying to pick up this young dancer. Well, he did pick him up and they were going to the parking lot when he was robbed by the dancer/stripper/trick and two other brothers. He was robbed for a little more than $150 dollars and a watch. He went into a coma after that serious beating and he never came out of it. He died three days later."
"So he got what he deserved."
"Perhaps, but I had to get back into the land of the living and that is what I did and you can too."
Sean was silent as he thought and considered what he had heard. Matthew Siad Muhammed, a total stranger, had just revealed to him that he had experienced the smae thing and everything he went through was what he was going through right now. The nightmares, the fear, the isolation, feeling unsafe and like a prisoner in his own home. The feeling that his body was no longer his. Matthew had experienced it all and he knew what Sean was going through and he began to cry and the cries turned into deep, strong sobs that just overtook him and he sank to the floor of the livingroom and cried and sobbed and held onto the phone, where Matthew was on the other end listening and understanding it all. He knew it felt good for Sean to have someone to talk to who shared the same thing and would not be sitting in judgement of him. Everyone had said they understood but they didn't but Matthew did know what he was going through and what he needed and what he was feeling.
It took Sean fifteen minutes to stop crying and sobbing and he felt foolish for crying like a baby to a stranger.
"Thank you, Matthew." Sean had said.
"What for?"
"For the story and for understanding and listening to me. It helped more than you will ever know."
"I'm glad," Matthew paused for a bit before going on. "Sean there is a group that meets together every week to discuss just what we have discussed and to support each other."
"Is this one of those rape survivor groups where women sit around and talk about the rape and how they have overcome and stuff like that?" Sean asked.
"Well sort of. Actually it's a group of men who sit around and talk about the rape and how they have overcome and stuff like that."
Sean could help it and broke out laughing. God, it felt good to laugh.
"There is a meeting tonight. Would you like to attend?"
Sean paused. He had not been out on his own since the rape muchless being around a group of strangers discussing what had happened. He wasn't sure about this idea at all.
"My bad Sean," Matthew apologized. "I didn't mean to rush you or anything."
"No, that's okay. Actually, I think it's time I got back into the game of life." Sean took a deep breath. " I would like to come."
"Really?! That's great Sean." Matthew said. "I will get some information to you in the mail and get you in the next group meeting next week or as soon as you are ready to go."
"I would like to go tonight." Sean said.
"That's good that you want to go but maybe you should wait just a bit. I mean this has just recently happened to you and..."
"My granddaddy use to say," Sean interrupted. "When you fall of a horse you need to get back in the saddle...immediately. I'm riding to get back in the saddle and ride."
Matthew smiled. "Okay, well if you feel like that about it then how could anyone stop you."
"No one can." Sean answered with a smile. "You will learn that about me."
"I see that." Matthew agreed. "I guess I need to give you the information to get there and then I will see you tonight."
"See me tonight? Do you run the meetings?"
"Me? Oh no. Dr. Patrick Segars leads the groups."
"So why are you going?" Sean asked.
"Because I'm a rape survivor...just like you." Sean smiled again. A survivor. Yeah, that's what he was, a survivor.
Mohammed was sitting by the swimming pool reading a book. The XWF had arrived in Los Angeles, California for the final leg of the tour that would end in Las Vegas for the big Pay Per View event. They had been giving the day and night off but tomorrow night they were live and it was on at the Staple Center and it was going to be non stop all the way to Vegas, so having this little bit of time off was great. Mohammed actually needed it as he had to think about what he had to do with his personal life. Since the kiss and almost making love to Sonny and the fact that he had yet to get in touch with Brett and then the incident when another man had answered Brett's phone...well, he knew what he had to do and he would do it. He had to admit that whatever he felt for Brett was not love and it probably hadn't been that for a long time. Things between he and Brett had seemed to be going down hill but then they would have sex and it would seem that everything was okay when actually they weren't and he to admit that he was guilty of what a lot of men are guilty of in the same situation. Instead of admitting that it is over and moving on, they rather put on blinders and stay in an unhappy situation and fool themselves into believing that everything would be okay. Well, something was wrong and it was time for him to do something about it. It was something he would have to do regardless of what may or may not happen between himself and Sonny.
Sonny Devine was a different matter all together. He was sexy, gorgeous, charming, and great to be around. He had a wonderful sense of humor, he enjoyed life, he was thoughtful, playful and it was obvious that he wanted to be with Mohammed and Mohammed enjoyed being with and around Sonny. He had always tried to keep his person/sexual life away from his work. Never get your honey where you get your money was what his uncle Mitch had always said. Getting involved with Sonny while working with him in the XWF while trying to keep their privacy would be a hard task and Mohammed had to think if that was what he wanted. He did learn a great deal about Sonny in the past few days. He learned that Sonny was actually born Sionne Taui Dexter on the Island of Hawaii to an African American father named Red Dexter and a Hawaiian mother named Priscilla Taui. He learned that Sionne became Sonny since most people...mainlanders pronounced it that way as opposed to 'Say-On-nee' as it is pronounced. It was his grandfather's name. Sonny was an all out athlete...baseball, basketball, football, tennis, track, rugby, soccer. Sonny had known he was gay since he was very young as did his parents, who supported their son and loved him for who he was. He did have a son, a strapping seventeen year old named Keilani, which is Hawaiian for Glorious Chief but he preferred being called Kei, which in Hawaiian meant dignified. Sonny had never married Kei's mother but they had shared custody of Kei and were raising him very well. It also turned out that Kei was gay too. That had floored Mohammed when he heard that. A gay father and a gay son. He couldn't help wonder if Jamal, his own son maybe gay and if Jamal was how would he feel about it. Mohammed couldn't think about that but he vowed to be there for his son if he every were to come to him and tell him that. Sonny was devoted to his son and family just like Mohammed and that appealed to Mohammed even more. Mohammed had to admit that he was impressed with Sonny and that there was an obvious attraction and sexual tension that could not be denied and as much as he wanted to explore that with Sonny, he had to be free of Brett first.
Sonny was at the top of the high dive when he saw Mohammed sitting by the pool reading a book and as a mischievous smile spread across his lips. He leaped into the air and then curled up into a tight ball and when he hit the water Mohammed was sprayed. But when Sonny came to the surface, laughing, there was no Mohammed. He looked around confused and wondering what happened. Where did Mohammed go? The answer came from below the water. Mohammed had seen Sonny at the last minute as he was airborne but he could not get away without getting splashed. But being prepared he had dove in right after Sonny had hit the water. Underwater, Sonny was stalking Sonny like a shark. Right above him were Sonny's very, very ticklish feet and he was going to make him pay.
Sonny was still looking around for Mohammed wondering where he had gone. Then suddenly he felt something grab his foot underwater and before he could pull away he felt fingers attacking his soles and he yelped, wiggled and squirmed as he erupted into wild laughter. Mohammed came up holding Sonny's foot and tickling it with no mercy. The handsome African-Hawaiian tried to free himself but it was useless he couldn't get away.
"Ahhhh HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LET ME....GOOOOOO....OH NOOOO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Say uncle then!" Mohammed ordered.
"No! No! NOOOOOOO!" Sonny refused as he roared with laughter.
"Say uncle or I will keep on tickling your feet!" A crowd of people were watching with bemusement at the display but neither man seemed to care nor notice.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!....NO! NO! OOOH PLEEEEESE!....PLEEEESE!"
"Okay you asked for it!" Mohammed went underwater still holding onto Sonny's foot. He reached up and grabbed Sonny's knee and squeezed. Sonny erupted and screamed with laughter.
"UNCLE! UNCLE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! UNCLE....DAMNIT!" Sonny gave in. Mohammed surfaced letting Sonny go. "Now who is THE MAN?" Sonny looked at Mohammed with a sinister look of revenge on his face. He lunged at Mohammed but Mohammed was able to get away and make a safe escape to poolside. Sonny vowed revenge as he pulled himself out of the pool.
"Ofcourse you know this means war." Sonny threatened.
"Hey you started it and I finished it." Mohammed answered. "But if you think you really want to go there...we can too but think about the consequences especially since I'm not as ticklish as you." Sonny seemed to be considering that. He flashed his big bright smile at Mohammed, the smile that Mohammed loved to see. Mohammed picked up his book and laid back on the lounge chair and Sonny laid in the lounge chair he was sitting in earlier. He laid on his stomach and let the sun begin to dry him off.
"You better put some sunscreen on." Mohammed said as he read his book.
"I just need some on my back. Will you out some on me?" Before Mohammed realized it he was squeezing sunscreen from the tube and applying to Sonny's back. As he rubbed the sunscreen into Sonny's African-Hawaiian lighter complexioned skin.
"MMMMM!" Sonny moaned. "Your hands feel good." So did Sonny's body, Mohammed thought as his hands glided over his muscled back. He could feel the heat coming off Sonny's body and his smooth, soft skin felt so good to touch. He continued rubbing and massaging Sonny's body and when Sonny began moaning again Mohammed popped back to where he was. He stopped and went back to his lounge chair.
"That was nice. Thanks." Sonny said.
"Welcome." Mohammed said returning to his reading.
"Can I ask you a question?" Sonny asked.
"Yeah."
"Do you love me?" Mohammed almost choked. "What?!"
"I said, DO...YOU...LOVE...ME?!" Sonny said
"Sonny...why would you ask me that?"
"Why won't you answer me?"
"Sonny, I don't...I don't know what to say."
"Say yes that you love and then we can go back to your room and make love."
"Sonny!"
"Okay my room, I don't care."
"Sonny stop it!" Mohammed said. "Look Sonny...there is nothing more than I would like to do is be with you but you know why I can't."
"Yeah...Brett but can I ask you something? Why haven't you told him to hit the bricks yet?"
"Sonny this is not something you do over the phone. He deserves better than that." Mohammed stated.
"Wait a second," Sonny said sitting up. "He's back home doing god knows what and you want to tell him face to face?"
"Yes," Mohammed said. "Sonny...I know this is hard for you to understand but just because he treats me with disrespect doesn't mean I have to stoop to his level. That's just who I am." Sonny smiled and reached over and lightly touched Mohammed's hand. "Damn! That's why I'm falling for you more and more." Mohammed smiled.
"Does Brett know what he has lost?" Mohammed looked around. The pool was getting crowded. Much to crowded for his tastes.
"You wanna go back inside? It's getting crowded out here." Mohammed said.
"Yeah but what are we gonna do?" Sonny asked.
"What do you wanna do?" Mohammed asked.
"Well, hell if you asking. I wanna make love to..."
"Sonny!"
"Aight...aight."
"If you behave maybe I will consider giving you a massage...again." Sonny glowed like a little boy. "How about a foot massage. I like those...but no tickling."
"Okay, a foot massage and no tickling." They both got up, grabbed their towels and headed back inside while the guests at poolside enjoyed the water and the day.
"Wassup lil niggie?"
Jamal had answered the front door and standing there was the man he knew as Dalziel, Brett's 'friend'. This was the man that he was cheating on his pop with and they weren't even trying to hide the fact either. He had heard them all over the place and even walked in on them in his father's weightroom. Brett was not trying to hide this from Jamal and he was getting the sense that Brett was somehow daring him to tell his father knowing that he wouldn't. But there were times when he just wanted to tell his father everything despite the pain that his father would experience. One day it would all come out and then Brett's days would be over for sure.
Dalziel walked past Jamal and into the house as if he owned the place. Brett soon appeared and the two men embraced and held each other tight. Then Brett kissed Dalziel. Long and deeply.
"What's up?" Brett asked when the kiss ended.
"My dick now!" Dalziel said. "But you can handle it."
"And I love handling it." Brett replied. He looked at Jamal and then took Dalziel's hand and lead him off to the livingroom. Jamal was furious and stormed off to his room.
"Damn boy. You just off the hook. Kissin' me like that in front of that lil niggie."
"Don't worry about it. He won't tell anyone what he saw."
"Well, you playin with fire with that lil niggie." Brett smiled and slid his hand between Dalziel's thighs and began rubbing his balls and dick.
"Shit!" Dalziel hissed. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick which was growing rock hard. Brett smiled and he went to licking his dick.
"Damn!" Dalziel hissed again. He put his hand on top of Brett's head urging him to do more than just lick it. He wanted him to suck it and Brett did just that. He opened his mouth and swallowed Dalziel's huge dick, deep throating the entire thing. Dalziel slapped the sofa, thrusting his hips and arching his back while a growl escaped his lips. Brett went to work sucking and pulling hard on Dalziel's dick and enjoying what he was doing to him. The sounds he was making and the way his body felt and the way he tasted.
"Suck that dick!" Dalziel demanded. He kicked off his shoes and pulled down his pants, with Brett's help. As he sucked Dalziel's dick he breathed in the sexy, heady, sweet musky scent of his pubic hair. As he feverishly sucked the saliva covered dick, he let his hands massage and move up Dalziel's thighs moving toward his buttocks. Dalziel leaned back and slightly arched his lower half as he felt Brett's hands massaging his thighs and then his butt.
It felt great. This brotha was a freak and he knew how to work a dick with this thick lips and hot mouth. Dalziel could not pass up any chance to kick it with Brett. He was off the hook. Suddenly he felt something tickling his asshole and he sat up.
"What?" Brett asked.
"Hey man," Dalziel warned. "I done told you about that, shit!" He wasn't cool with giving up any ass.
"I'm not trying to plunge you. I just want to make you feel good. You do like when I make you feel good, don't you?"
"Oh hell yeah!" Dalziel said. "But whatcha gonna do?"
"Just trust me." Brett said with a smile. Dalziel nodded and leaned back. He was nervous about this. Brett went back to work and he could tell that Dalziel was not relaxing. He spread Dalziel's legs a bit wider and returned to lightly licking Dalziel's ass...tickling the little hairs around it and then letting his tongue go in a bit deeper and worked it into the hole.
"OOOH SHIT!" Dalziel moaned as he spread his legs wider. Whatever Brett was doing felt crazy wild and he didn't want it to stop.
Brett smiled and went in for more. He licked and lopped, slurped and slopped, sucked and soaked. Dalziel moaned and groaned. Squealed and squeaked. Growled and Grunted. Soon Dalziel had his thighs resting on Brett's shoulders thrusting his hips and ass into his face and Brett let his mouth and tongue go to work. Dalziel rolled his head side to side and whimpered and whined and begged for more.
"AHHHHH SHIT....AHHHH SHIT.....EAT THAT ASS!" Brett went deeper and deeper and let his teeth and tongue and lips and mouth nibble and nip Dalziel's asshole. Dalziel gripped the sofa cushions trying to rip them apart. This was unbelievable and unbearable but he didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to end. His dick was rock hard and with each and every nibble and nip, lick and lap he felt himself getting closer and closer to a climax and he wasn't even touching himself. The he felt a new sensation...something he had never felt before and as it slipped in and invaded his ass he let out a howl and screwed his face up in pleasure and ecstasy beyond belief. He glanced down and saw that Brett had his middle finger deep in his ass and just the sight of it sent him over the top.
"AHHH...AHHH...AHHHH...DAAAAAAAMN!....I'M...Gonna...I'm...Cummmmming!" Dalziel wailed again as his dick erupted and thick hot cum shot out and all over his chest and up to his neck. He had never come that hard before. He laid there panting and shaking as Brett laid between his legs lightly stroking Dalziel's sensitive cum covered dick causing him to twitch and jerk.
"DAYUM!" Dalziel blew out. "That has never been done to me before." Brett smiled.
"You are just out of control." Dalziel said with his thighs still resting on Brett. He didn't want to move. He felt too damn good and he wanted Brett to do it again. Fifteen minutes later Brett performed an encore on Dalziel and then Dalziel did his work on Brett's ass like he never did before. They laid on the livingroom floor covered in sweat and smelling of sex. They were wrapped in each others arms and drifted off to sleep.
Jamal had come downstairs, he was going out. He didn't want to be in the house while Brett and Dalziel were up in his pop's room fucking. He didn't expect to see them in the livingroom on the floor butt assed naked and asleep. He glared at them and he hated Brett. He hated him for what he was doing to his pop and he was not going to let that happen. This was it. He was telling his father and getting Brett out of his life. This was the last straw. Jamal ran out of the house and jumped into his car and roared off. He had to find Uncle Eric and see if he could stay with him. He would tell him what was going on and then they would call his pop and deal with Brett at long last. Jamal was angry. His blood was boiling and his mind was racing. His head was throbbing and he had nothing but hatred for Brett. After all his pop had done and after all the love he had shown to Brett and this was how he was going to repay and treat him? This was now going to end and it was going to end...today...this was it.
The little dog trotted out in the street. Jamal didn't see him until it was too late. He slammed on his brakes and jerked the wheel to the left to avoid the little dog. The car spun, tires squealed and smoked. Jamal realized too late that he had lost control of the car and as he fought to regain control it was too late. The car rolled up onto the sidewalk and smashed into a telephone pole. Jamal's head whipped forward and hit the steering column just as the airbag deployed. There was an errie silence and the little dog trotted on.