White Bitch Chronicles

White Bitch Chronicles: Episode 5: Brewster and the Bros from the Hood

(c)2017 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

Please note: this story depicts oral, anal, and group sex between males of different races. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of

18, read no further.

The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.

.oOo.

This is the fifth and final episode of the White Bitch Chronicles. The entire series covers a time span of nearly two decades. Each episode records the experiences and self-discoveries of a different white narrator who encounters authoritative black masters. In episode 4, Cochran had just been hired by Phil Johnson's law firm. In episode 5, four years later, Cochran instructs a lawyer from a different firm on dealing with his clients.

.oOo.

I asked to meet Phil Johnson at a nearby bar and grill. We asked for a booth where we could conduct our business in relative privacy.

"So, Brewster Graham, it's been a long time."

"Three years."

"As I remember, we were on opposite sides in that case."

"Yes, I admit, your were better prepared. But that's to be expected, isn't it. I mean you guys are a high powered firm. You were bound to win."

"We sometimes lose. But it's not for lack of trying. So what can we do for you, Brewster?"

"I'm working on a case, pro bono, and I'm not getting anywhere. I thought maybe your firm would be a better fit for my clients."

"Give me the lowdown, Brewster."

"There are these five street kids. You know the type. They have to wear hooded jackets. They talk jive. They got chips on their shoulders the size of cinder blocks. They're..."

"Black."

"Well, yes. But look, I ain't prejudiced or nothing."

"No, of course not."

"In fact, I really think they're innocent. I think the police framed them. I told them I was there to help them out, but they just won't cooperate with me. They say they got alibis, but they don't trust me enough to tell me what I need t know. I thought maybe you could reach them. You being..."

"Black."

"Well, yes."

"And what about the next time you got to defend a brother. You gonna quit on him too?"

"Look, I thought you'd want to help them."

"Since I'm black too."

"Well, yes. I thought you guys stuck together."

"Look, Brewster, you seem like you mean well. But I think you're going about this all wrong. You say you told them you were there for them."

"Yes."

"But have you shown them? Do they really understand that you want to serve their case."

"That's the problem."

"Look, Brewster. Number one, our firm is already full up with pro bono cases. But more important, if we did take this case, we would be robbing you."

"I don't understand."

"We would be cheating you out of an opportunity to learn. To learn how to work with your black clients. Even the ones who can pay you. I'm willing to help you learn that lesson."

"You mean you'll work with me on the case, Phil? That would be great!"

"No, not me personally. But there's someone on our staff who can show you how a whitey, pardon the expression, can convince black folk that he has their best interest at heart."

"Well, OK." I took out my pad.

"His name is Cochran."

"One of your partners?"

"No, he's an intern. Been with the firm for four years now."

"Four years, and he's just an intern?"

"Well, he won't be able to give you legal advice, Brewster. But I've seen you in court. I'm sure you can handle all the points of case law. Cochran's expertise lies in the fact that black guys really get that he's on our side."

"So, he's not black?"

"White as the sand. We'll lend him to you for three weeks. If he can't turn you around in that time, you're beyond hope, Brewster. I'll clear his schedule so he can start working with you. Call Gladys tomorrow morning."

And, so it was, that the following Monday, at eleven, Cochran appeared in my office. I would have a preferred a day other than Joseph's and my second anniversary, but I was desperate. Cochran was an unimpressive young man. Rather awkward in fact. I took him to lunch to try to find out what I needed to do, but he wasn't too forthcoming. Well, maybe he would have been more helpful if Joseph hadn't texted me five minutes after we had sat down:

"Hi, Sweetheart." He used the emoji for [heart].

"Hi, Pumpkin."

"Do u like my present?"

"I [heart] them. They're so comfy."

"100% silk. They f-ing beter feel comfy. Cost me enuf."

"Cause u personalized them."

"Only the best for my prety hubby? When u comin home? Have wonderful supper planned. Coquilles St Jacques. About to go to fish mkt now."

"Shd be there by seven. [heart] u."

"[heart] u more."

I ended the exchange. "Sorry about that, Cochran. Important client. Couldn't keep him waiting."

I had scheduled a meeting with the gang for two that afternoon downtown at the detention center. We were taken to one of the private rooms. One without bugs. One for lawyers and their clients to discuss their case in confidence. We waited, and after a few minutes, the five sauntered in, sprawled out on the folding chairs, crossed their arms and scowled. Jerry asked, "Who's this guy, Brewster?"

"This is Mr. Cochran, Boys." They all winced. I didn't know then why. "He's going to help me try to clear you Boys." Another wince.

Cochran leaned in to whisper something in my ear: "Could I have five minutes alone with them?"

"That's highly unorthodox, Cochran."

"You want my fucking help or not?"

"Boys, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of with the corrections officer. Mr. Cochran will ask you a few things so he can be up to date on your case. Please cooperate with him, Boys." I left the room.

About seven minutes later, Cochran emerged. "OK, they're going to work with us. But there are several things you have to start doing first."

"Like what?"

"Number one, they aren't Boys. That's a derogatory term."

"I didn't know."

"Now you do. In fact, remember you work for them. Even though the state is paying your fee, these five men are still your bosses. Show them respect."

"How?"

"Always call them Sir. And if they start calling you Boy, accept it as your new role. You'll get used to it. They're already calling me Boy Cochran."

"Really?"

"Yes. And by all means, learn their fuckin names. It isn't Jerry. He is Sir Jeremias. The others are Sir Avondré, Sir LD, Sir Tyrice, and Sir Wilber."

"I guess I can remember Wilber."

"No, Boy Brewster, it's Sir Wilber, and learn them all."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. When we go in there, I want you to do exactly what I do. It's going to be, as you say, highly unorthodox. But it's the only way you'll get their cooperation, trust me."

"Frankly, Kid,..."

"You can call me Boy Cochran."

"OK, frankly, Boy Cochran, I'm not sure I do trust you. But I have a lot of respect for your employer, so I'll try to go along."

"Now when we go back in there, this is what you're going to say." He spelled out what my opening line was to be.

We re-entered the room. Cochran coughed and looked at me. I cleared my throat and recited. "Boys, No, no, I mean Sirs, I apologize for my previous condescending attitude. I didn't mean to offend you, Sirs. I'm all yours."

"Yo is ours?"

"Yes, Sir LD." He snickered.

"What part of yo is ours, Boy?"

"I said I am all yours, Tyrice." Cochran coughed. "I mean Sir Tyrice."

"Boy Cochran told us his mouth is ours. Is yo mouth ours?"

"But of course, Sir Avonder." Cochran coughed. "Uh, what is it, oh yes, Avondré, No, Sir Avondré."

"Yo is learning, Boy Brewster. Boy Cochran, you got yo-self a nasty cough, yo know."

"Yes, Sir Avondré, please forgive me."

I wanted to impress my sincerity, so I went on. "Sirs, you own my mouth. You own my mind. You own my education and my skills. You own all I have."

"So, Boy Brewster," said Sir Jeremias, "that means yo sweet lil lily white ass is ours also."

Immediately the image of my husband's anniversary gift flashed into my mind. "Well, now."

"Boy Cochran said his sweet lil lily white ass is definitely ours. Fact is, he didn't just say it, he showed it." I stared at Cochran. "Is yo ass ours or not, Boy Brewster?"

Cochran nodded at me. I muttered, "Well, yes, I guess so, then, Sir Jeremias. Figuratively, of course."

"Boy Cochran, you can now teach yo Boy Brewster what he need to do."

"Yes, Sir," said Cochran. Then he whispered to me, "Do what I do." He got down on his hands and knees. He looked up at me and jerked his head. I got down on my hands and knees.

"This is a Ralph Lauren suit," I whispered.

"Forget the fuckin' suit. You want to win this case, don't you?"

"Well, ain't that nice?" said Sir Jeremias. "Two honkies that know how to show a brother a little respect." The others laughed. Well, not Sir Wilber. He's the silent one.

Then Sir Tyrice got out of the chair he was slumped in, stood in front of Boy Cochran and opened his fly. "My, God, Man, the cameras."

There was a moment's silence, then they started laughing again. Sir Avondré said, "Those fuckin things haven't worked in months. They got a work order in, but you know city hall. Takes forever. Don't worry, ain't nobody watchin' us, Boy." Now I was more worried than ever! Those cameras were there to protect me! What if one of these guys got angry and sliced me? I turned from Sir Avondré back to Boy Cochran to see if he realized the gravity of the situation. What I saw was Sir Tyrice's cock going in and out of the Boy's mouth. My God, what a cock! It seemed a foot long when he pulled it out. Yet Cochran managed to swallow it without choking. Of course, as a gay man who had seen plenty of porn online, I'd always been curious about black cocks. About their mythical size. And about their taste. But Joseph and I were monogamous, even for the five years we lived together before we wed. We speculated about other men. Fantasized about them. Men like our pool boy, the FedEx delivery man, the fish vendor, some of my clients, some of our cousins. But we remained true to each other. We trusted each other, even though we spent all those hours apart each day. And we were rewarded every night with spectacular sex. So as curious as I was, I knew I wouldn't yield to temptation this day. Then my nostrils were bombarded with an overwhelming reek. I stopped staring at the blow job going on beside me and turned forward. There pointing right at my face was Sir LD's cock. I didn't know then it was Sir LD. All I saw was this erect cock protruding from an orange jumpsuit, pointing at my face. Maybe not quite as long as the one Boy Cochran was swallowing, but definitely thicker. A rich chocolate color; not milk chocolate, dark chocolate. A cut cock, with a slightly pink helmet even thicker that the shaft itself, which had huge pulsing veins running its full length. An enticing cock. An alluring cock. A beguiling cock. "No," I muttered, remembering Joseph. Remembering our anniversary.

"What did yo say, Boy?" I didn't repeat myself. "Come on, Boy. Show a little respect. Give me some head. Yo know yo want to." It was true. "Yo know yo been waitin yo whole life for a taste of dark meat." True again.

I closed my eyes and prayed, "Joseph, forgive me." Then opened my mouth. Wide. Just as I had thousands of times for Joseph. But now his pale cock paled in comparison to Sir LD's in every respect. It wasn't as long. Wasn't as thick. Wasn't as delicious to smell. In short, it wasn't black. As I began to suck, Joseph's image grew fainter and fainter, until it disappeared altogether. Even Boy Cochran was no longer beside me. Now I was alone with Sir LD.

"Damn, this here Boy knows how to suck cock!" I smiled. Thank you, Joseph, for preparing my mouth for this one moment. My lips ran laps back and forth along it. My tongue cradled it. My saliva lubed it. If I pulled back for a moment to relish the experience, to lick it from helmet down to ball sack, it responded with liberal strands of precum. But I wanted cream. That mysterious legendary black man's cream. So I continued to give it 110%.

I was so enthralled, at first I didn't feel the hand on my crotch. My Ralph Lauren pants had been unbuckled and my fly unzipped before I realized it. Keeping the cock in my mouth, I glanced over at Boy Cochran. He was bare assed. Bare legged. Barefoot. How did that happen? No riddle really. The other men in the room had stripped him from the waist down and now they were starting on me. They wanted to see our pasty white asses. They were as curious about our caucasianness as I was about their blackness. I kept sucking contentedly as they lowered my pants to my knees.

"What the hell is this!?" Called out Sir Avondré. The others stared at my upturned butt. The butt which all day had been caressed by the soft silk fabric of Joseph's anniversary gift. The black silk underwear with the red heart over the fly and the incriminating red personalized inscription on the butt. Hearing Sir Avondré, the others all had to look at those words on my butt. Sir Avondré spoke for all. "Boy, you lied to us." My eyes shut tight. My lips shut down hard on Sir LD's cock. I opened my eyes to seek comfort from my fellow honkie. Boy Cochran just looked at me, questioning, frowning. "Didn't this Boy tell us his ass belonged to us?" The other men mumbled concurrence. I had indeed said so earlier. Of course, I had tried to qualify it with the word "figuratively." But that didn't diminish the fact that I had indeed ceded my ass to them. "Yeah. He told us that, but he lied. Lawyers always lie. Just look at what his honkie ass says to us in big clear red letters." He read each word individually: "This. Ass. Belongs. To. Joseph."

I felt my face turn red. Hell, I felt my ass turn red. An intimate love message put on display for all the world to make fun of. "Any of you brothers named Joseph?" They all mumbled to the negative. "Then this here document, I believe, is null and void. Ain't that right, Lawyer Boy?" Without releasing Sir LD, I found myself nodding yes. "Yo ass don't belong to Joseph no mo, do it?" I shook my head no. I felt something inserted into the waistband of my lover's gift. Something sharp. My God, someone had a shiv. What was he going to do? Cut my fuckin dick off? I was tearing now. There were no cameras to protect me. I heard a ripping noise. Then I felt the cool air on my naked butt. My dick hung down free. Someone had cut my silk underwear off me.

I opened my eyes. They were passing the torn material from man to man, considering it soberly. "LD, pull yo dick out. I gotta hear the lawyer Boy say in his own words." Reluctantly, I let go of my treasure. "Now, Boy. Answer me true. No lawyer talk. No lies. Who yo ass belong to now."

I was shaking, but my words came out surprisingly clear: "Sirs, like I told you before, my ass belongs to you Men."

"Now is that for real, Boy, or is it what yo say, figgertive."

"For real, Sir. No obfuscation. I swear."

"Yo hear that, Brothers. No ob-fuckation. Guess that means he ain't fuckin with us. Guess that means he mean what he say, for once. LD, I heared enough. Plug up his mouth again." I returned to giving head, relieved. Relieved I was still breathing. Relived I still had all my Boy parts. Relieved it was over. Well, no, not quite over. Someone spit into my now exposed asshole and used his finger to spread it around. Again I glanced over at Cochran. He was already getting fucked from behind by Sir Jeremias, all the while continuing to suck off Sir Tyrice. Then I felt it. My asshole was being penetrated. I looked around me. I knew damn well where three of the cocks were: Sir Jeremias, Sir Tyrice, and Sir LD. I saw Sir Avondré, back in his chair, beating off. So that meant Sir Wilber was behind me. Silent Wilber. For the first time in over seven years, a cock other than Joesph's was entering my anus. And, you know what? I was enjoying it. Sir Wilber made me feel full, much fuller than Joseph could. Sir Wilber was pounding me hard, much harder than Joseph would. Sir Wilber didn't need to say a word, unlike Joseph, whose coital talk, I now realized, was just plain tiresome. So I continued to suck while getting fucked. Sir LD held my head tight. Sir Wilber held my hips tight. Both were now pistoning me fast and furious. They both erupted at once. I felt the cream in my ass, on my thighs, on my tongue, on my chin, in my nose.I had been treated by these kind men to generous amounts of their precious black Man jizz. I thanked them and opened my eyes. Boy Cochran was already up on his feet, pulling his pants on. He smiled at me approvingly. But it wasn't his approval I needed.

"Yo done good, Lawyer Boy. Now we's know yo a man of yo word. Get up. Get yo pants on. We got work to do." I was smiling when, clothed, I opened my brief case and pulled out my pen and yellow legal pad. They opened up, and told me everything. On the night in question, each of them had a pretty decent alibi. Sir Jeremias was in court answering a warrant for failing to meet his parole officer. Sir Avondré had hired a prostitute. The motel they used had security cameras. Hopefully, a run-down fleabag of a motel had better cameras than a city jail. Sir LD was visiting a friend in the ER. Gunshot wound. He had signed in. Sir Tyrice was making a drug deal. The buyer was a politician who stupidly had invited him into his home to transact business. Tyrice would be able to describe the rooms in any detail necessary. And Sir Wilber was at the YMCA, assisting the instructor of an American Sign Language class. I went to the judge and informed him I had enough evidence to get all charges dropped. He denied the request. But I managed to get their bail reduced. I could now meet them in the 'hood, to discuss progress on their case. They kept the silk "broken contract" as a souvenir. In two months, the charges were dropped. But I continue to do pro bono work for these men and their friends. They pay my fee in black man's cream. I am their Boy. Their White Bitch.

When I told Joseph what had happened to his anniversary present, he suggested we take some time apart. I said OK. We're now in the midst of divorce proceedings. I had learned the truth of the saying, once you go black, you can't go back.

.oOo.

This is the final episode of White Bitch Chronicles. Perhaps you enjoyed them. Perhaps you were enlightened. Or perhaps you were enraged. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.