NOTE TO MY READERS: I do not intend for anyone to be offended by some of the language and things used in this story. A lot of my characters are actually based off of real-life people, both in appearance and personality, and I just wanted to bring them into a fictional world. Also, because the main character is a deep thinker, there is much more detail not only in the sex scene, but in the events preceding and following the sex. If you love a really in-depth story, this is perfect.
Enjoy! Here's a more detailed version of Cody's description and personality: Now 22 years old, he is about 6 feet tall, and has a slim figure, but a muscular build. He looks much like his brother Chris, but something about his face seems to give him a slightly meaner look. His eyes are a deep dark blue, unlike Chris who has more gray in his eyes; in effect they look like two pieces of ice, hence the cold, unfriendly look.
He wears his hair long, and usually keeps it in braided locks. And he has spider bite piercings (two rings on either side of his bottom lip). Like Chris, he is covered in tattoos. He has a unique style; it's like half thuggish wigger, half crazy metalhead. So he likes to wear baggy clothes, but often clothes of his favorite bands or rappers. He's a hardcore stoner and a crazy party animal, but he takes his education very seriously.
Overall a really cool motherfucker, loyal, humble, unselfish, usually chill, and a REALLY deep thinker. But he has a serious temper and anger issues that can cause him to be anti-social sometimes; issues that intensified when dealing with his sister's boyfriend. Once that Irish temper gets hold of him, there's no telling what might happen… Dr.
Lattimore, the main antagonist, is a 50-year-old Black man, dark-skinned, and rather heavyset. He keeps his hair cut very clean and has a very professional look about him. But the professional look conceals his true nature, pure hatred of anyone outside his race… I could tell, going to a predominantly Black college, that I was gonna get some racism thrown at me one time or another. Surprisingly, I didn't encounter much from my fellow students, not to say that there weren't a few who were just simply jerks who like to harass the "crazy white boy on campus." But hey, sometimes I can let my fists do the talking, and if they came too hard at me, I'd meet them off campus and show them that I was about that life.
Some didn't like me after that, but most of them became cool with me, or at least had respect for me, you know?
But after two years there, there was one who just wouldn't let up on me, and it wasn't even a student; my American Literature teacher, Dr. Henry Lattimore, was as racist as they come. He never hesitated to make snide remarks about me, and occasionally I'd pass by him and I'd hear him make racial slurs, and bullshit comments about how white people were "the devil's work." As if that wasn't enough, he would never grade my work; he'd take it and in the next class announce that I "didn't hand it in," even when he, as well as the rest of the class, knew damn well I HAD handed it in.
Even the other students and teachers complained about him; hardly anyone liked him. But of course, the school chancellor wouldn't hear a word against him; Dr. Lattimore put up a pretty good show of being a "model teacher" otherwise. But for whatever reason, the man just hated non-Black people all around. So I had to deal with him for the spring semester of my junior year; four months of taunting and slurs from both him and his 21-year-old son, Stanley, who was just as bad.
Four months of watching him in his office, glancing at my schoolwork, seeing my name upon it, and casually putting it into his shredder, after which he would give me a sarcastic smile and say "Oops," leaving me there seething with rage. Needless to say, he flunked me on purpose. If only I could get away with just beating the shit outta him without fear of expulsion… So now in my senior year I had to take the fucking class again, this time with a fair teacher.
My advisor, Dr. Richmond, called me into his office to talk to me on the very second day of the new school year. "Good afternoon, Mr. Cavanagh," he said as I sat down in front of his desk.
"I'd like to have a little talk with you about your grade in American Literature last semester." Of course, he had to bring that shit up. Luckily I managed to just barely hold my rage in check.
"Dr. Richmond, listen, I don't know what Dr. Lattimore thought he was—" But he held up his hand to silence me. "I know," he said, and there was an expression of pity and regret on his face.
"I just want to apologize for putting you through all that mess." My jaw dropped and my eyes went wide. "You knew?" I said, shocked. "Yes," said Dr.
Richmond. "I knew he was going to give you a hard time last semester. Many of us teachers here know that he is very prejudiced. And some of us, when a non-Black student comes under our advisement, will try to humble him a little bit by putting them in his class for a semester. You, Mr. Cavanagh, have proven on several occasions that you are indeed a very intelligent young man who takes his education seriously.
I simply hoped that Dr. Lattimore would look past that rough, thuggish exterior and that pale skin. Once again, I was proven wrong.
So all I can do is offer you my sincere apologies." I sat there for a moment, filled with exasperation, and then said "Okay. Well I guess some people just don't change." "Cody…" And now I looked up surprised, for he was usually professional and called me by my surname; rarely did he call any of his advisees by their first name.
"Don't let it get to you. Every school has that one teacher who tends to be a jerk. You're not alone." "I won't," I replied. "But if that jerk son of his—" "Try to put it from your mind for now," said Dr.
Richmond kindly. "And focus on your education." I sat with a bitter grimace on my face. "Listen Cody," he said, "I know it's been a tough year for you, dealing with Dr. Lattimore, and then what happened over the summer with your sister—" He fell silent as I glared at him sharply, now feeling really angry.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I forgot you'd rather not talk about it. Umm, I'll just go ahead and let you go." "Thank you, sir," I said coldly, and I got up and walked out of his office. I could see a slight look of fear on his face as I closed the door behind me. Yes, I respected him as a man, but I didn't like people talking about what happened over the summer.
Many people knew a few of the details; my sister Donna was raped by her boyfriend, and I, along with my dad, my brother, and his friend ganged up and beat the fuck outta him.
People knew how dangerous I was after seeing the video of the first time I had to beat that fucker's ass for hitting her, and they heard that after she was raped, the family and I had nearly killed him, which was truth enough; we landed some pretty solid punches that night.
At least no one knew that we had also given him a taste of his own medicine, taking turns raping him (my first and ONLY time fucking a dude). But after hearing the story, a lot of people looked at me in a new light; some in fear, others in admiration… "What up, Cody?" I hadn't paid much attention to where I was walking, then I looked around and saw Travis, my roommate and one of my really close friends here at school.
I jumped out of my tragic memories and put a smile on my face. Travis was a really cool dude. I didn't have too many black friends, not that I'm racist or anything, but he and I got on pretty good from freshman year.
He was about an inch taller than me, with a slim figure, but not buff like I am, a bronzish skin tone, and an overall good-natured look about him. "Hey bro," I said, pounding his fist with mine.
"So what did Old Man Richmond want?" he asked. "Eh, just to apologize," I said the word with bitter sarcasm, "for puttin' me in Lattimore's class last year, knowin' that fuckface was gonna treat me like shit." "Ah," said Travis, frowning. "Yeah, man," I muttered. "Damn it, I don't know why the fuck that motherfucker—" "Cuz you a retarded ass, pale-faced bitch, that's why!" Travis and I looked around.
Of course, it was punk-ass Stanley and a couple of his boys, listening to our conversation a few yards away. I clenched my fists tightly, glowering at him. "Come on, Cody," said Travis, grabbing my shoulder to pull me away.
"He ain't worth it." "Fuck outta here, let that nigga fight his own battles!" said Justin, one of Stanley's friends. "Cody—" "Get over here and say that to my face, bitch," I snapped back at them. They laughed heartily. "This white boy think he's about that life?" said the other dude, Bernard.
I abruptly started walking back toward them, jerking out of Travis's hold on my shoulder. "Y'all don't fuckin' know me like that," I snarled. Immediately they squared up. Travis grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me back. "Yo Travis, don't touch me right now, bro," I said, shaking with anger.
"I suggest you get off me." "I suggest you get off me!" said Stanley, mimicking my Northern accent. "Bitch, that's not what your trailer-trash sister told her boyfriend!" "Oooohhh…" "Oh shit…" "Uh-oh…" "He done fucked up now…" The words were going through the small crowd that had gathered around us.
My rage peaked with the speed of lightning, and I yanked my shirt off. "Cody, no!" yelled Travis, jumping in front of me to stop me jumping on Stan, but there was no need. Next moment, I was being restrained by someone much larger than me. "Cavanagh, please just calm down!" It was Mr. Gaston, one of the security guards, and he held my arms tightly behind my back, though I was putting up a fight, still trying to get at Stanley.
"BITCH I'LL FUCKIN' MURDER YOU! COME AT ME, HOMIE! I'LL FUCK YOU ALL THE WAY UP!" "CAVANAGH!" yelled Mr. Gaston, now starting to pull me away from him. "That's enough! Calm your ass down! Lattimore, go to the security office NOW. I shall meet you in there." Two other security guards who had come with him escorted Stanley away, while the students all around us yelled at him.
"That was fucked up, nigga!" "You lucky that white boy ain't beat yo ass!" "Just watch! He gone fuck you up next time he sees yo ass!" Security was dispersing the crowd, but I was still struggling against Mr. Gaston's grip.
"LET ME GO, GODDAMNIT! I'MMA FUCK HIS SHIT UP! TALK SHIT NOW, BITCH!" I bellowed at Stanley, who was still being led away. "CODY," said Mr. Gaston, in a low but firm voice. "Please calm down." I finally stopped struggling, but I was still shaking with fury.
It was bad enough that Stanley and his boys taunted me, and even worse knowing that if I did anything to Stanley, Dr. Lattimore had connections with people that I knew could totally fuck my life up. But that was a low blow, even for him, to bring up my sister, let alone for the second time in one day! "I swear to FUCKIN' God," I said, panting heavily, "If he says one more goddamn word about that—" "Cody," said Travis, in a slightly higher and somewhat more fearful voice.
"He's NOT worth the trouble, bro. Just let it go." Still snarling, I allowed Mr. Gaston to push me down onto a bench. I was so angry, I was almost crying, which is extremely rare for a tough motherfucker like me. "Here," said Travis, handing me a cigarette and a lighter. "Thanks, bud," I said, lighting up. Travis and Mr. Gaston managed to talk me down, and the cigarette was relieving my stress and anger. Mr. Gaston was one of the guards who was cool with me, not to mention he had experienced a situation similar to mine (a female family member getting raped), so at least he understood my rage.
"There's nothing you can do about what happened, Cody," he said sympathetically. "And I don't like people talking about things like that anyway. I'm going to see if I can get either you or Lattimore moved out of your dormitory building.
The best we can do is keep him as far from you as possible. I don't wanna see you thrown in jail for killing that bastard." He didn't like Stanley or his father either. Like most people at school, he hated the Lattimores' racist behavior. "Keep an eye on him," Mr. Gaston said softly to Travis, who nodded. I tossed my cigarette butt away and stood up as Mr. Gaston walked away. "You good, my nigga?" Travis asked, patting me on the shoulder.
"Yeah," I said hoarsely. "I'll be alright. Let's go to the room and burn a couple of blunts before dinner." And indeed, later, after smoking some good weed and getting my stomach full, by the time I headed back to the room that evening, I was in a much better mood.
What was more, Stanley was forced to move across campus to another dormitory hall and was banned from mine. I watched him with a cold grin on my face as he lugged his stuff across campus. The next day was the monthly student assembly, first Wednesday of each month.
Travis and I walked to the auditorium, frankly uninterested in anything the people visiting had to say. Serious about my education though I was, the assemblies were generally boring, and often I'd just sit in the back puffing on my hash oil pen and browsing Facebook on my phone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Dr. Jones, the school chancellor, "may I present Dr. Henry Lattimore." There was a light applause all around, except from Stanley and his gang, sitting farther up front, who cheered loudly and proudly. "Yeah that's right, kiss up to him, Daddy's little boy," Travis muttered beside me, and we both snorted with laughter.
Dr. Lattimore began to speak, and my attention wandered. I could give a fuck less what he said about anything. I hated the man nearly as much as I hated my sister's ex-boyfriend. "And as to that," said Lattimore, "I'd like to bring out a couple of people to assist me. Let me present my brother-in-law, Mr. John Murrey, and my lovely wife, Mrs.
Sylvia Lattimore." Mr. Murrey came out, and then Mrs. Lattimore, and I felt my jaw drop. I wasn't usually attracted to black women, just a sexual preference, but that changed when I laid eyes on the professor's wife. 45 years old, she was tall and slender, with long, wavy black hair, and her skin was the color of fresh caramel. She had big, light brown eyes and full lips, and very white teeth, the perfect beautiful face.
And her figure, man I had hardly ever seen a woman with such a perfect hourglass figure, her large, uplifted tits (she had to be at least a 32-D), her slim waist, and her ass… I'd never seen an ass like that! You could argue that it was an ass like Nicki Minaj, but I could somehow tell that Mrs.
Lattimore's ass was all natural. And her legs, her long, slender legs only emphasized it. She was wearing a tight black dress that made her look even more delicious… Lust pelted through my body like it never had before, and I could almost immediately feel my dick growing in my pants.
"Damn!" I whispered, a little too loudly, for a couple of people looked around at me. Travis snickered beside me. "My nigga," he said, amused, "Slow the hormones down there." But I was hardly listening. I couldn't stop staring at Mrs. Lattimore, thinking of the dirty things I could do to her, wishing that she wasn't married, and those thoughts kept me so distracted, that I barely felt Travis pulling my arm sometime later, and not until he gave me a sharp jab in the jaw, did I realize that people were getting up and starting to leave.
The assembly was over. "Oh shit, my bad homie," he said as I looked at him like he was crazy. But he was my bro, so I merely laughed and followed him out of the auditorium. But I kept glancing back at Mrs. Lattimore, who was now talking to Dr. Jones, while her husband put his arm around her waist. "What does she see in him?" I asked Travis a moment later, as we removed ourselves from the crowd. "Lattimore's wife? A beautiful woman like that married to an ugly, racist bigot?" "I don't know, bruh," he replied.
"Who knows, he might be forcing her to stay in the marriage. If you ask me, she don't look too happy." Looking back, I could see what he meant. Though Mrs. Lattimore was smiling, there seemed to be something forced in her smile, as though she was feeling anything but happy. I pitied her; perhaps she, too, was unhappy with her husband's bigotry and hatred, perhaps just not happy to be with him at all… "The fuck you lookin' at, whitey?" I looked around to see Stanley walking towards me.
I tensed up in defense, but I knew nothing would happen; we were right by the security booth, and Stanley wasn't fool enough to start a fight right there. And sure enough, Mr. Gaston came walking out a second later. "Yo, Gaston," he said, pointing at me. "Tell that fool to keep his eyes to himself!" I gave him a sarcastically puzzled grin. "Don't know what you're talking about, man," I said calmly. "Bitch, you was starin' at my mama!" he shouted back. "I swear if you go anywhere near her—" "That's enough, boys," said Mr.
Gaston, moving between us. "Lattimore, remember that little talk we had yesterday? You go about your personal business and stop harassing everyone. Cavanagh, I don't know what he's talking about, but try not to give him a reason to start a fight with you, kid." "Is there a problem here?" It was Dr. Lattimore, and he was staring at me with a cold expression. "Ah, of course," he said with relish.
"It smells like someone's been eating crackers." I glared back at him, anger and shock coursing through me. It was one thing to whisper bigoted remarks behind his hand, but to openly be racist in public? "Hey Lattimore," I said loudly, fixing him with my mean mug, "I was done with your sorry butt back in April.
Why don't you find yourself another guinea pig to pick on?" Dr. Lattimore's eyes went wide; this was the first time I'd actually talked back to him and gotten really mad. Stanley threw down his bookbag and stood beside his old man. "Don't you talk like that to my pops!" he yelled, his face contorting in rage. "It's okay, Stan," Dr. Lattimore said, his face relaxing into a cold smile, putting his arm around Stan's shoulders.
"I'm not worried about his honky behind. He has that big old 'F' on his transcript to remind him who I am." "Gentlemen, please!" said Mr. Gaston sharply. But I was grinning. "Yeah, sure," I said, looking at the two of them with no fear at all. "Say what you will, it ain't gonna bother me. I'm just gonna leave it all to karma." Giving a low snicker and turning to walk away I added, in my most dangerous voice, "I really pity you guys.
One day, you'll wish you'd never met Cody Cavanagh." As I walked away, I heard Dr. Lattimore say, "What could that pale-face punk possibly do to hurt us?" with a humorous laugh… For the next few days, I didn't have much problem from Old Man Lattimore or his punk-ass son. In fact, they totally ignored me, which was perfectly fine by me.
I didn't need their negativity in my life. So I went into the weekend in pretty high spirits. That Saturday, there was going to be a welcome-back-to-school party at the local nightclub, Kalyptik.
Travis didn't feel much like going, so I decided to go and party it up, maybe get a few numbers from some fine females. Saturday evening came, and around 7:30 I had gotten in my car and made the 15-minute drive over to Kalyptik, dressed in my favorite outfit: black boots, baggy dark gray jeans with red seams and a studded belt, my favorite badass rings on each finger, a fresh black Hed P.E.
T-shirt, and a black bandanna wrapped around my head just below my braided hair, my trademark "crazy white boy" getup. It was a while before the club was to open, so I sat in my car and smoked a blunt while I waited. Finally the doors opened at a quarter past 8, and I went in, stoned off my ass.
This was no problem, since the club was one of the few "420-friendly" clubs I knew about. I didn't feel much like drinking, mainly because I'd come by myself and didn't have a designated driver. So I figured I'd just smoke and dance… By 10:00 the party was in full swing. I was high as fuck, and had already danced with quite a few girls.
I was sitting at a table talking to some of my other local homies and smoking another blunt, when I noticed a woman sitting at a table all by herself. A moment later, I realized that it was Mrs. Lattimore. She still looked as beautiful and sexy as ever, in a tight red dress that fell to just above her knees. But what was she doing here alone? Perhaps she wanted to get the fuck away from that loser husband of hers?
I couldn't blame her. What was more, she looked miserable, less radiant than I'd seen her at the assembly. I stared at her for a moment, then her eyes flashed over to mine. I felt an odd lurch in my stomach and quickly turned away from her, feeling myself going red. "Dude, who were you staring at?" said my buddy Steve, looking at me with a grin. "Too many sexy women around here, bro," I replied, smiling myself.
His brother Terrence looked around to where I had been looking. "Lattimore's old lady!" he said with a cackle of laughter. "Forget about it, Cody. I don't think she's too willing to give up that pussy." "Not to mention," said my other friend Darius. "Old Man Lattimore would probably kill you if you even thought about her, no matter how much of a MILF she is." "You know how he is," said Steve.
"The bastard's all about puttin' white boys in a bad light. Imagine what he'd do if he found out his wife was talkin' to a white dude. Nothing against you, of course," he added, seeing my eyebrows contracting.
"But come on, my nigga. If he saw you anywhere near her, he'd—" "I could give a fuck less, man," I snapped, getting to my feet, and walking toward the bathroom. I liked my homies, but it didn't take much to set me off nowadays, and sometimes I just needed to get away.
I was in the bathroom, smoking a cigarette, thinking really deep. If Mrs. Lattimore was here by herself, she might have been looking to hook up with someone. And judging by the look she had given me, I could tell she was interested. And I can't lie, those titties and that round booty had me thinking, if I could nail her, THAT of all things would make Dr. Lattimore and his bitch-ass son sorry they ever met me… "You good, cuz?" Steve had come in to check up on me.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said, taking a hit from my cig. "Just too much shit runnin' through my mind." "My bad, yo," he said as he lit up a smoke too. "Sometimes me and the boys just don't know when to shut the fuck up." "You're cool, bro," I replied with a slight smile. We finished our cigarettes and went back out into the club.
I had barely reached our table when I saw that Mrs. Lattimore was staring straight at me in a way that said quite clearly, 'Why don't you come sit with me?' "Yo, I'll catch up with you guys later," I said to the boys, and I walked over to the other table, ignoring their questioning looks.
"Well, if it isn't the famous Cody Cavanagh," Mrs. Lattimore said in a low, velvety voice. "Rapist beater extraordinaire." To my surprise, I actually didn't feel angry at this. It was like I could hear exactly what she was thinking; it wasn't a "you're-dangerous-so-stay-away-from-me" tone. It was seductive, as if she was saying "you nearly killed a rapist; that is SO hot…" "Um, hey Mrs. Lattimore," I replied. Her voice was so smooth it was sending chills down my body.
She gave a short laugh. "Now you stop with that formal mess; we're all grown in here. You can call me Sylvia." "Well Sylvia," I said, sitting down in the chair beside her. "What brings you here? And all alone at that?" "Oh, my husband went out of town for the weekend," she replied.
"Doing all sorts of business." "Hmmmm," I said. And at that moment I noticed her left hand on the table. It was bare; there was no ring on her finger. "So I decided to just have a little night out," she continued. "I've been working hard too; handling a bunch of preschoolers at daycare." I wasn't paying her much attention. I was distracted by the fact that her finger was naked of a ring.
There could only be one reason behind it; her marriage was seriously on the rocks. She wasn't here to take some time off; she was hellbent on cheating. Now I'm not exactly a supporter of cheating, but in Sylvia's case, I didn't blame her. That husband of hers was a piece of shit anyway… "Hey Sylvia," I said, "Are things alright between you and—" "Everything's fine," she said in a somewhat constricted voice. "What makes you think they aren't?" I fixed her with my shrewd gaze.
"Well for one thing, when I saw you earlier, you looked a little down. And for another, I noticed you ain't wearin' a ring on your finger." "I well." she said, hesitant. But before she could continue, there was the sound of glass breaking and an outburst of yelling and cussing, and a scrambling up by the bar. "Aw, hell," I said, shaking my head. Of course, a fight had broken out, just as I thought would happen eventually.
Then the fight started steering in our direction. Glasses and bottles were being thrown in every direction, people were pushing and shoving each other to get out of the way. Sylvia and I stood up to avoid the crowd, then I saw a glass fly through the air, and land hard on the crown of Sylvia's head. She ducked down, clutching her head, then some drunk fool deliberately shoved her onto the ground. Jumping onto a chair, I dived and Superman-punched that fool right in the face, knocking him to the floor.
"DON'T YOU FUCKIN' HIT A WOMAN, PUNK ASS BITCH!" I bellowed, dropping punch after punch onto his head until he was unconscious. Then I reached down and pulled Sylvia up. "Come on, let's get outta here!" I yelled. She took my hand and we both dashed through the raucous crowd and outside onto the sidewalk. Sylvia rubbed the top of her head where the glass had struck her, and her eyes were wet. "You okay?" I panted. "Yes, I'll be fine," she whimpered, leaning against a wall. "Just let me catch my breath.
Oh dear," she said, looking at the parking lot. "The girls forgot about me. They must have been quick to get out of there." "Well, I suppose I could give you a ride home," I said pointedly. "Anyway, I don't think I'm diggin' this party too much anymore." "Oh, that's sweet of you," she said, smiling through her tears.
We walked over to my car and she got in the passenger side door. As I opened my door, I saw Steve, Terrence, and Darius at the window, looking at me with stunned disbelief. I raised my eyebrows at them and got into my car. It took about 15 minutes to get to her house, which was only a few blocks away from the college. She and her husband lived in one of those big luxurious houses, just like my family's house; spacious with several rooms.
"Well, good night," I said after I pulled up beside her house. She smiled, parting her plump lips to show those brilliant, straight white teeth. "Don't be silly. Henry's out of town for the weekend. You're more than welcome to come in; we can have a glass of wine or something." "Ah well," I said, faintly registering her behavior. "I suppose…" I immediately felt completely out of place upon entering the house.
While my family's house was typically somewhat messy, and decorated with weapons, weed stuff, and all things brutal, badass and manly, the Lattimores' house had a much cleaner and more dignified, upper-class look about it, covered with pictures of kittens and other domestic animals, and a lot of religious artifacts. Sylvia walked over to a wine cabinet in the wide open living room and pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. We sat down at the table and she poured some out.
It wasn't too bad as I took a drink. I wasn't much of a wine-drinker; I preferred my European beer and malt drinks myself. But I figured I'd be polite. "I'm honestly thinking about getting a divorce," Sylvia said suddenly. I looked over at her. "Why?" I asked. "This marriage is nothing like I thought it would be," she said, a forlorn look in her eye. "Nothing. I kind of… acted hastily. I mean, Henry's always been the successful one, making loads of money at work, going places.
Whereas I'm only working at a daycare. Hours a day looking after smelly, spoiled, loudmouthed brats. And then once I get home, I only have time to cook and clean." "Damn," I said in a low voice.
"And not to mention," she continued, "I'm getting sick of his attitude towards people like you. And the fact that he's brainwashed our son into thinking the same thing just makes me sick.
We're ALL equal on the inside." She had tears in her eyes now. "He wasn't like this when I first met him, you know. He was such a gentleman, a very nice person. I don't know what happened to him to change him; all of a sudden it's 'cracker this, honky that,' even when he KNOWS that I'm the product of an interracial marriage, a successful one at that.
But now he and Stan are convinced that 'God hates white people.'" "That," I said, glowering, "is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard. But since I'm an atheist, I can't really complain." "Yeah," she said, disregarding the latter statement. "It makes no sense. But his pro-Black racist mess isn't the only thing." A tear flowed from her eye as she said "He's been abusive towards me in the past." I choked on the sip of wine I had just taken. "He's hit you?" I said, in the furious snarl I adapted when hearing about men laying hands on women.
"Yes" she said in a choked voice.
"On a few occasions. No, several. But I was scared to leave him; you can see why, can't you? I'm the trophy wife of a well-known, rich, and successful teacher, so just leaving would have cast me into a bad light.
But I don't think I can deal with it anymore." I was looking at her with a scowl on my face. Not that I was annoyed with her, but she had me thinking about my sister; how Donna didn't want to leave Tyson because she was the hot girlfriend of a "cool dude," how he started hitting her when she wouldn't do what he wanted, and how he finally went too far and forced her to have sex with him.
As I realized that Dr. Lattimore was becoming just as bad (I now hated him more than ever), I squeezed my wine glass so hard that it shattered. "Oh shit!" I yelled as the white tablecloth was suddenly soaked in wine, and some spilled on the floor. "I'm sorry, Sylvia!" "Oh, don't worry," she said, smiling slightly. "This thing's had worse stains on it." "Nah, I'll get it up," I said, and I took my shirt off and hurriedly wiped the floor and table. "Sorry about that," I said, sitting back down in my chair.
"It's okay," Sylvia said, now looking at me in a different way; there was definite lust in her eyes now. "Wow," she said, staring at me. "You've got so many tattoos." "Well thanks," I said with a smile. "I'm damn proud of my ink." "Henry thinks tattoos are a sin," she said, and I felt a stab of anger at the man's religious fanatics.
"He thinks everyone who has tattoos is going to hell." "But what do YOU think?" I inquired. "I think that's bullshit," she said. "I don't think they're sinful. In fact, they're really…" And now there was a sultry expression on her face as she looked me up and down. "…HOT," she finished breathlessly. "Oh yeah?" I said. And now I tensed up my body so that my muscles looked more defined, and I fixed her with a piercing look that I gave certain women, a cold, seductive glower that said, "I wanna fuck the shit outta you." I was staring her up and down, taking in her silky caramel skin, her big, luscious boobs, her large, brown eyes.
Her eyes said clearly, "I want you to take me and do dirty things to me." "You're so sexy," she said seductively. "And my husband was never good in the bed." I stood up and advanced slowly toward her, still fixing her with my intriguing scowl and flexing my muscles slightly. Her eyes went wide, not in fear, but in anticipation, as if she had fallen under a spell cast by me. Now I was in front of her, and she reached out and ran her fingers up and down my ripped stomach, up to my chest, then slightly squeezing my biceps.
I could feel my 10-inch dick growing in my pants, and light sweat starting to seep from my pores. "So hot," she muttered, licking her lips. I reached down and put my hand under her chin, lifting her face up, while lowering mine toward hers. "Why don't I show you what a crazy white boy can do," I whispered, giving her a shrewd grin.
She started playing with my braids, and I leaned forward and started lightly nibbling her lips. She moaned for a few moments, then she grabbed the back of my head and started kissing me fiercely. I returned the kiss with twice as much vigor, one of my hands at her back, and one in her hair. Our tongues worked so hard I wondered if they'd get tangled together. Her hands were rubbing my back as well, and occasionally feeling my chest and stomach.
Then I took my hand from her back and firmly grabbed one of her breasts. She stood up and turned me around. "Just sit there and relax," she said. And as I sat back down in the chair, she reached behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress.
Shrugging out of her shoulder straps, the dress fell to the floor, and now I stared at her with punch-drunk lust; she stood there in a hot-pink bra and a matching thong. "Holy shit," I said as I could feel my dick straining against my jeans. She picked up a remote from the table and pointed it to a stereo. Slow, dirty rock music filled the room as she advanced on me.
She removed an ornamental clasp from her head and shook her head so that her long black hair fell around her shoulders. And then I sat there as Sylvia gave me the freakiest lap dance I'd ever gotten in my life, grinding her ass against my crotch, rubbing her boobs in my face, lightly biting my neck. "Oh baby…" I growled, low and lustful. The way she was shaking her fat ass right up against me had me nearly ready to bust a nut right then; it was a sight to behold, man.
Now I decided to take the lead; I stood up and lowered her onto her chair. I fixed her with my trademark look of angry pleasure and grabbed either side of her face, looked straight into her eyes, and bit down on her lip. Then I started kissing and licking her neck, making my way slowly down, and all the while, her eyes were closed and she was moaning very lightly.
I put my face between her breasts, running my teeth and tongue along her skin. I looked up and gave her a sinister grin, then reached behind her back and yanked her bra clasp free, pulling it off, and now her voluptuous breasts stared me right in the face. The beast inside me was fully awake now, and animalistic instinct took over.
I bit down hard on one of her dark brown nipples. She gave a small squeal of pleasure as I began sucking and licking. Meanwhile I was running one of my hands down her stomach, and in between her legs, gripping her inner thighs. I could almost feel heat coming right from her pussy, and still sucking on her tits, I yanked her thong off to reveal the hairless, moist cave of love.
She moaned as I ran my long fingers along the slit of her cunt and finally slipped a couple in there. "Oh Cody, Cody!" she moaned as I started wiggling my fingers inside her wet pussy, still nibbling her nipples, running my tongue around her areolas. I grinned sadistically up at her. "Tell me you fuckin' want me," I growled in a low whisper. "I want you," she moaned as she began trembling with pleasure. "I want you so bad, white boy." Now I started fingering her more vigorously, shoving my fingers in deeper, and she moaned even louder.
It wasn't long after that before her moans had risen to squeals of delight. I could feel her tight twat convulsing and gripping my fingers as an orgasm took control of her body, and hot juices soaked my fingers. "Wow," I whispered with a smile. I took my fingers out of her pussy and licked her delicious, sweet-smelling juices off. "Ooh, that pussy is MINE tonight." "I'm all yours," she whispered, still quivering with pleasure.
I looked up and saw the doorway to the master bedroom standing ajar. "Oh yeah, come on," I said, picking her up and carrying her in there. Closing the door behind me, I laid her on the bed and got on top of her, kissing and licking every inch of her torso. This sexy cougar was bringing out the freaky side of me that rarely came out, even with other hot, beautiful women. "You just relax," I murmured, moving down. Then I pushed her legs apart and stared at her shaven cunt with bestial lust.
"I'm gonna make you feel like you never did before," I said, and I darted forward and buried my long tongue inside her pussy. "Oh my God!" she squealed. I had no intentions of taking it easy; I ate that pussy like there was no tomorrow, savoring the taste of her fluids. I ran my tongue up, down and all around, trying to taste every bit of her womanhood, biting her clit and her pussy lips. I reached up and grabbed her tits as I slurped her cunt.
She grabbed my wrists and moaned and begged me not to stop. And I didn't stop; I prided myself on being a pussy-eating champion, and I was determined to make her cum. She gripped my hands tighter as my tongue found her G-spot, and she was moaning even louder now; you'd think she was in an endless orgasm or something.
And on and on I went, tonguing that super sensitive spot until… "Aah! Ohh! Ohhh I'm cumming, I'M CUMMING!" I pulled my tongue out of her, and next second, she squirted; juices came spraying out of her pussy, dousing my face and hair. I felt like I was in paradise. But no sooner had the spray of cum ceased, than I shoved my tongue right back in, determined to please her in ways that I doubt her husband ever could.
I could hardly stop; that was how damn good her pussy tasted! And over and over again she soaked my face in those juices. Then after at least a minute, I finally stopped.
I grinned up at her, and her eyes were rolling, a look of intense pleasure on her face, and her body was shaking and jerking in the aftermath of getting her pussy eaten out. I climbed back on top of her and put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh," I said as her moans began to die down, and I leaned in and kissed her again. "Oh your pussy tastes TOO damn good." "Oh my God," said Sylvia hoarsely. "No one's EVER done that before. You're a beast!" I laughed and kissed her again.
"Now let me return the favor," she said, and we rolled over so now I was on my back. Her long black hair brushed my skin as she made her way down, tonguing at my nipples, licking the deep creases in my muscular torso, running her tongue slowly along the V-line of my abdomen. Then I felt her hand against my cock in my pants. "Oh damn!" she said, smiling up at me. "I didn't know white boys had dick like this!" Sylvia unbuckled my belt and undid my jeans, pulling them down with my underwear, and my thick 10-inch dick popped out, standing proud in her face.
"WOW!" she said, wide-eyed. "It's so BIG!" "Yeah?" I said with my evil grin.
"Why don't you— ohhhhhhh!" She wrapped her long fingers around my dick and started stroking it slowly up and down. The feeling of her smooth hands was incredible.
She wasn't lying when she wanted to return the favor; she wanted to give me as much pleasure as I'd given her. I was nowhere near busting a nut, but she was so sensual with it. Then she started kissing the tip, making me groan in ecstasy. "Suck it, you fuckin' dirty little freak," I snarled through clenched teeth. "Mmmm yeah, talk dirty to me, Cody," she muttered, and now she was licking it up and down. Her tongue on my dick had me feeling higher than some chronic. Then she wrapped her lips around it and lowered her mouth down.
"Fuuuuuuck," I growled as I felt the tip hit the back of her throat. But she didn't stop there; she took a few more inches in. Now she was gagging slightly, trying to accommodate the whole thing.
I was starting to breathe heavily now as her throat gripped my dick. "Oh you dirty bitch." She looked up at me, taking her mouth off my dick. For a split second, I feared I'd gone too far. But she was smiling. "I'm YOUR dirty black bitch tonight, white boy," she whispered. And in one move, she lowered herself back down, and her lips were at the base of my dick.
"Whoa!" I gasped. And now she wasn't taking it easy; she was sucking my dick almost as hard as I had eaten her pussy, deepthroating it almost easily, and her throat was tight, but that just made it better for me. Up and down she bobbed her head, and she was playing with my balls too. Every now and then she'd stop deepthroating and just swirl her tongue around the head of my cock. It was the most amazing feeling ever; just as she'd awoken the freaky beast in me, I seemed to be revealing a freaky side that she never knew she had.
I reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair, holding it tightly in my fist, and started thrusting myself upward, fucking her throat. She gagged and choked, but made no move to pull away from me. She'd called me a beast, and I was hellbent on living up to her words.
"Oh baby you're gonna make me bust!" I said after a while. "I'm gonna nut down your fuckin' throat!" Sylvia started sucking as hard as she could, and the tingling in my groin grew and grew… "FUCK YEAH, OH FUCK I'M GONNA—OH SHIT! OHHHH!" My dick exploded like a volcano in her mouth. I could feel jet after jet of cum shooting out and into her throat. My whole body shivered with the force of my nut, and for a while, all I could do was lay there, trembling and groaning from one of the best blowjobs I'd ever gotten.
I looked down and saw her smiling up at me, licking my sperm off her lips. "Damn woman," I panted. "I've never gotten sucked off like that!" She laughed and said, "I've learned a few skills, watching other women." I gave her a grin.
"I want that fuckin' pussy now," I snarled. She started playing with my dick, which had gone limp, while I reached down into my jeans and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. I smoked as her hands and lips worked my dick, getting it hard again. I was ready to beat the fuck out of her tight little cunt. By the time I was done with my cig, my dick was once again standing firm.
"Get up here and ride my fuckin' dick," I growled at her. Smiling, Sylvia made her way up and kissed me again, and her hips were straddling my crotch, her dripping pussy lips teasing the head of my cock. "I hope you're ready for this," she whispered, and spreading her lips, she began to lower herself down onto me. "Ohhhh shit," I moaned as the walls of her twat slid down, squeezing around my dick.
She was almost as tight as a virgin, but that was fine by me. Tight pussy was always the best, because I loved fucking girls totally loose. She moaned with pleasure as she slid down further, engulfing nearly six inches.
Now she began riding it slowly, and the pressure within her pussy was incredible. I leaned up and grabbed the back of her shoulders for leverage as I started sucking on those huge tits bouncing in front of my face. Lower and lower she rode my hips until finally I was in her pussy to the hilt.
She started grinding back and forth, still squeezing her walls. We were both moaning and sweating now. I never imagined her pussy would be this awesome! Now I was thrusting myself upward slow but hard, kissing and biting her boobs, leaving red teeth marks and hickeys. I kept moaning "Oh baby," and she was leaving hickeys on my neck as well. After a few minutes she spun right around on my dick, facing away from me, and now I was lying there with a perfect view of her round ass.
She leaned forward, propping herself up on her arms, and she was doing a full split on my dick. Then she started twerking on it, and it was truly a sight to behold there, watching her ass bounce up and down on my hips, feeling her pussy walls clench and relax, almost as if she was sucking my dick with her pussy. Truly an experience I'd never had before. And between snarls of pleasure, I was talking dirty to her, repeatedly spanking that round bubble butt, loving the way it jiggled.
"Oh fuck yeah, you freaky bitch! Twerk that ass on me! Yeah harder baby! Ride that big white dick!" "Yeah white boy, you like that black pussy?" "Fuck, I love it, I love it… oh Sylvia, Sylvia!" The heat was rising from our bodies as she continued to bounce up and down, smashing her ass against my hips with wet smacks.
The feeling was overwhelming, and it wasn't long before I felt another burning in my nads. My low groans were increasing in volume as she kept at it, until finally I couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck I'm gonna nut, baby! Fuck fuck FUCK!" She hopped off just in time; a split second after my cock popped out of her pussy, a huge jet of cum erupted from my dick, landing on my stomach.
I roared with pleasure as again and again my cock pulsed, spraying jizz onto my torso. As my spasms subsided, I looked up and saw Sylvia looking at me with a wide smile on her face. "Looks like someone got a little too excited," she teased.
"I don't give a fuck," I said, eyeing her with my seductive scowl. "That pussy is mine now." And I wasn't lying; when the pussy was THAT good, I always had to have some more immediately.
Using a corner of the bedsheets to wipe my cum off my stomach, I stood up, my dick still hard, and grabbed Sylvia by the hair. She winced slightly, but made no resistance. Her eyes said it all; she wanted to be dominated. "You think you're ready for this for real now?" I said through gritted teeth.
Without waiting for an answer, I pushed her down onto the bed, grabbed her legs, and pulled her toward me. Her ass was hanging off the bed now, and I spread her legs wide, glaring down at that pussy that I was about to murder.
"Fuck me, Daddy!" she begged me. Oh hell yeah! Now she was calling me "Daddy," I knew she wanted it hard and rough. She raised her legs and I began to slide my cock back into her twat. She moaned as her wet walls were stretched back out.
In one slow move, I buried all ten inches into her cunt. I leaned in and bit her neck as I slid in and out slowly, giving her time to loosen up a little before I went ham on her.
She gave high-pitched moans as I humped her, and now she had reached behind me and was digging her long nails into my back. I winced slightly, but I loved that little bit of pain.
I started fucking her more intensely now, my balls slapping against her pussy, and her legs trembled, and her breath was coming in short gasps as I warmed her up. "Daddy, Daddy, oh God!" she breathed. "Give it to me!" I looked deeply into her eyes with my wicked smirk, then leaned in and bit her lip once more.
I pulled myself almost all the way out and WHAM! I slammed myself balls-deep with full force. She gave a loud scream of painful pleasure and her body jerked and her nails pierced my back again.
I waited a couple of seconds, then I pulled out and rammed myself in again. She screamed again, and her face was scrunched up. I gave a few more long, hard thrusts and now she was squealing. I took a break, hoping I wasn't hurting her too bad, but she made no move to push me off. "You like that, ya filthy fuckin' slut?" I whispered in her face. "Oh give me more!" she moaned. And now I started truly beating that pussy up. I was pounding her as hard as I could. She was screaming and yelling my name as I fucked her, leaving more scratches on my back.
I continued to talk dirty to her. It was one of the best feelings ever, this sexy woman beneath me begging me to fuck her like a dirty slut, her pussy growing wetter and looser as I pounded as deep as I could, making sure she felt every thrust not only in her pussy, but throughout her whole body.
It was one of those things I was a pro at, fucking a girl to the point that each orgasm took her entire body over. "YEAH, YOU LIKE IT ROUGH, HUH?!" I screamed at her. "Oh YES! YES! YES!" she squealed. I leaned in and wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed.
I was gonna make damn sure she'd never forget this fucking. The combination of getting fucked harder than she ever had been, getting her G-spot rubbed against repeatedly, and getting choked made her cum hard; she squirted those hot juices all over my cock, and her whole body was rocked with spasms; her back arched off the bed and her legs shook violently.
To this day, I have no idea how much time passed. All I know is I fucked Sylvia in every position I could think of. Missionary, doggy-style, rabbit-style, you name it. Either way, I was SLAYING that pussy like there was no tomorrow, and her wails of sexual pleasure filled my ears as I pounded her, choked her, pulled her hair, bit down hard on her titties, sucked on her neck, and every other freaky, beastly thing I could do.
And she kept cumming and squirting everywhere, unable to stop her body from jerking when I pounded her into an orgasm. I was on her as though I had been sex-starved for weeks, and before long, her tight little pussy was anything BUT tight now.
She lay on the bed, gasping and moaning as more orgasms rocked her body. I had finally slowed down to a gentle rocking motion in and out of her pussy.
"Oh God," she gasped. "I've never had any dick like that." She had an expression on her face like she was going through an exorcism. "Yeah?" I panted. "Here's something else you've probably never had either." And I flipped her over into a doggy-style position, brought her hips up to mine, and pressed the head of my cock against her tight pucker hole. "You said you wanted a beast, didn't ya, bitch?" I said teasingly.
"Do it, Cody," she gasped. "Put your dick in my ass." My dick was still wet with her pussy juices, but as she'd never been fucked in the ass before, it was a REALLY tight squeeze. She groaned in pain as I slowly pushed myself into her hole.
She began pushing her ass out, relaxing her hole to take the whole thing. I reached around and stuck a couple of my fingers into her pussy to excite her. Before I knew it, my dick was in her ass to the hilt.
We were both groaning, she from the pain of losing her anal virginity, and I from the pressure her rectum was forcing upon my dick. Well, I'd loosened up her pussy good enough, now it was time to do the same to her ass. I moved myself in and out slowly, warming her up, reaching under her and fingering her pussy, fondling her boobs, leaning in and biting her earlobes and the flesh of her neck (What can I say?
I LOVE biting). Then little by little, I fucked her ass harder and faster. "Yeah baby, that big dick in your ass feel good?" I panted, grabbing her hair. She was moaning so loudly that I doubt she even heard me. But now she started squeezing her anus around my dick, which told me she loved it. "Get it, white boy!" she moaned.
"Take me!" Determined to finish her off like a champ, I grabbed her hair and started slamming myself into her asshole as hard as I could. Our flesh slapped together, she was squealing in pleasure, and her ass jiggled and bounced every time it smashed against my hips. With my other hand, I was spanking that fat ass hard, making her cry out between moans. Meanwhile she was furiously fingering her pussy, trying to keep up with my thrusts in and out of her ass. It wasn't long after that when she started cumming again.
Over and over she twitched with orgasms, and with each one, I pounded her ass a little harder as she clenched her anal walls around my cock. She was almost hoarse now from the constant moaning and screaming, but I wasn't stopping that easily. Oh no, not till I was done… And finally, a particularly powerful orgasm made her squeeze so tightly around my cock that it sent me to the point of no return. "I WANNA BUST A NUT ALL OVER YOU, BITCH!" I screamed as I felt my cock swell, and on the very brink of nutting, I yanked myself out, turned her over on her back, and gave a bellow of release as rope after rope of cum landed on her face, her boobs, and her stomach.
My body was jerking too as I expelled my jizz, pleasure in every pore. And Sylvia was still recovering from her final orgasm, her legs shaking violently, her breath coming in gasps… She smiled up at me as soon as she caught her breath, and I grinned back. "THAT'S how a crazy white boy murders the pussy," I said. "Mmmm yeah, that was so—" SLAM! The bedroom door flew open with a snap, and almost immediately— "YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!!!!" Dr.
Lattimore was standing in the doorway, and he looked beyond incensed. Sylvia screamed in horror, I merely gasped. Lattimore dived for me, and I tensed up, ready to fight, despite being jay-bird naked. But Sylvia jumped in between us, and he collided with her, and they both fell on the bed. "GET OFF ME, YOU STUPID, WORTHLESS WHORE!" shrieked Lattimore, and he forced himself out of her grip, now with a disgusted look on his face as he realized he had dived onto his wife, who was still soaked in my cum.
He turned to face me, walking closer. "You disgusting little honky," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "How could you do this?! My wife!" I gave no sign of fear, but Sylvia grabbed hold of his arm. "Leave him—" SMACK! He turned around and landed a forceful slap in her face. Instinctively, I made a beeline for him, drew my metal-clad fist back, and landed it as hard as I could into Lattimore's stomach.
Barely had he doubled over in pain, than I wound my arm back again, and gave him as hard an uppercut as I could muster. He fell to the floor, knocked completely silly. "You okay?" I shot at Sylvia. "I'll be fine," she replied. "You'd better go before he gets back up. Hurry!" I rapidly put my jeans and boots back on as Lattimore struggled to get to his feet, still dazed from my punches. Then I grabbed Sylvia on the ass, pulled her toward me, and gave her one big, wet kiss, with which she responded vigorously.
"Go!" she urged me when we broke apart. "He could do anything to you!" I saw that he was crawling toward a cabinet, which looked like it could hold a couple of big guns. I dashed out of the room, snatched up my shirt from the dining table, and sprinted out of the front door to my car. Before getting in, I hollered at the open front door: "Hey Lattimore! You can call me Tyrone now, cuz I just fucked yo wife, long dick style, BITCH!" I wasn't even aware that the yard was nearly full of people, students mainly.
I just knew that I had to duck into my car, because next second, Lattimore appeared in the doorway holding a shotgun. "Oh FUCK!" I yelled, scared for the first time. I started my car quickly, and reversed out of the driveway— BANG!
Screams filled the air, and for a second, I thought the worst had happened, but then I realized that Lattimore had only gotten my passenger rearview mirror. Not a problem though, I had money; I could get that fixed in no time. But I needed to get back on campus as soon as I could.
A few minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot beside my dorm building. Grinning about everything that had just happened, I lit up a cigarette, got out and started walking towards the door.
Looking around, I saw several students gathered together in small groups, apparently surrounding someone holding a cell phone and watching a video. One group of guys stood right outside the door to the building. As I approached, one of them looked up at me. "Yo, there he is!" he exclaimed. His friends looked around at me, and they burst into applause.
"Bruh!" said the one holding a phone. "This can't be you, for real?" He held up the phone, and I now saw what they were watching; a video of me fucking the shit out of Sylvia. "You're one BOLD ass nigga," said another one of the guys. "But how—?" I began. I was torn between pride and slight embarrassment. "Some of your boys saw you leaving Kalyptik with her, bruh," he said.
"They were talking about how you went to go talk to her and then yall left together. Nigga had a feeling things would go uphill from there." He laughed. "But yo, how was it?" said the first dude. "You were DESTROYING that pussy!" "Man," I said, smiling broadly, "it was some of the BEST pussy I've ever had. And you know what's better?" I added. "Her husband caught us just as we had finished. Sweet, sweet vengeance." The guys looked at me in awe.
"Well, that must explain why you ain't wearin' a shirt," said one of them. "Yo back all covered in scratches and shit. Musta got outta there in a hurry, huh?" "Yeah well," I snickered. "A ninja ain't tryin' to get shot, you know what I—" "CAVANAGH!!!!!!!" We all looked around.
Stanley was walking towards me, shirtless and looking livid, clearly seeking a fight. I looked at him, feeling absolutely no fear; he was a lot bigger than me, no doubt, muscled up like a bodybuilder. But he was a lot stupider than me too. "What up, Lattimore?" I said conversationally. "I'm surprised I didn't see you at Kalyptik tonight, man." "YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, CRACKER!" he bellowed, walking faster. I laughed. "Your vain insults are totally fuckin' immature, bro," I said, shaking my head.
"You might not wanna come this way, though. I remember you getting banned from this building." I was completely calm, but I stuck my hands in my pockets, slipping my rings off; I knew a fight was imminent, but best not to fight on campus with my rings, since that would surely get me expelled, no matter how much that fucker deserved a metal-clad fist in his mouth.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" he roared. "Hey, congratulations!" I said sarcastically. "For once in your life, you actually got something right. I guess Sylvia didn't raise such an airhead after all." He looked angrier than I'd ever seen him. "You keep my mama's name outta yo motherfuckin' mouth, honky!" "Well, that would be a little pointless," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "seeing as how that's not the only thing of hers that's been in my mouth.
Why didn't you tell me your mother's pussy was so damn delicious?" He screamed in fury and lunged at me, but I was too fast for him; I stepped out of the way, and he tripped over his own shoes and fell flat on his ass. The groups of people I had seen while I walked up to the building were gathering around now, and they roared with laughter upon seeing Stan fall.
"Slow-ass punk," I said calmly. "You think you can take me just because you're all jacked up and shit? Did you forget I'm Irish, bro? I got that natural fight in me." "Man, fuck yo Irish!" he shouted at me, and I was pleased to hear his voice crack with embarrassment.
He scrambled to his feet. "Dude, back off now while you can," I warned him, tossing away my cigarette butt. "You really don't wanna fuck with me. I know how to fight, and I know how to FUCK YO MAMA!" "You—" He couldn't think what to say, so he spit at me; I felt the loogie brush against my hair slightly, but it didn't quite get in it. The crowd gasped and groaned. I was distracted by disgust at this, and just barely dodged as Stan threw a sucker punch at me; his knuckles grazed my temple.
But I caught his arm, spun him around, and held him tightly as anger pulsed through me and I started landing body blow after body blow, tearing up his stomach and ribs. Stan doubled up in pain, yelling and whimpering as I beat him up. Girls were screaming, and guys were pulling out their phones yelling "WORLDSTAR!" I gave Stan a few more punches and then Sparta-kicked him to the ground. "Get to steppin' ya little bitch!" I snapped, walking towards him again, but next second, Travis was beside me, grabbing my shoulder.
"Come on, Cody, you done fucked him up already, he's had enough!" "Yeah," I muttered. "Maybe now he knows what the fuck I'm about." I turned to head inside and get to my room, but a few seconds later, there were screams. "CODY, LOOK OUT!" I turned back just in time to see Stan swing at me again.
I ducked, barely noticing the blur of silver that came with his fist. A second later, I realized that he had a switchblade in his hand. "I'MMA FUCKIN' KILL YOU!" he screamed, still swinging the knife wildly, in danger of slicing some of the people gathered around. I backed up quickly… "LATTIMORE!" Mr. Gaston and several other security guards had arrived at that moment. Stan looked around and dropped the knife in horror.
"Well well well," said another one of the guards. "What do we have here? Weapons on campus? I guess you know what this means, young man." "No!" said Stan. "Please no! You don't understand!
Cavanagh—" "Save it, Lattimore!" snapped Gaston. "We warned you what would happen if you started any more trouble around here. And a knife on top of that? You might as well get back to your room and start packing your shit now!" "But—but—" "Beat it, punk!" Travis and I shouted together.
Stan flinched, his face screwed up in misery, tears leaking from his eyes as Mr. Gaston and another security guard grabbed him and forced him into one of their cars.
The crowd broke up, talking excitedly about what had just happened. And I watched, a broad smile on my face, as the security car drove away, with Stan sobbing in the back seat… Back in my room, Travis and I were smoking more bud; I had just finished telling him about my wild and kinky evening with Sylvia.
"You, my friend, are the luckiest nigga on campus," he said, grinning. "Fuck yeah, bro," I said, blowing smoke out. "I told you Lattimore and his pussy-ass son would rue the day they met me." "That's an understatement if I ever heard one," he chuckled.
"Man, I'll be back, I gotta take a shit." "Fuck outta here then, before your ass explodes," I replied, and we both roared with laughter as he walked out.
Then my phone rang. It was my brother. "Hello?" "Yooo! What's good, little bro?" "What's up, Chris!" I said. "How you been doing, man?" "Never better," said Chris. "Just gotta ask ya something." "Oh yeah?" "One of my niggas that goes to yo school posted something on Facebook not too long ago.
Did you really fuck yo teacher's old lady?" "Goddamn," I said. "Good news sure as hell travels fast around here." "So how was it?" "Well, I don't know how many times I made her cum, but she definitely didn't get all that from her hubby." "My nigga!" Chris laughed.
"You're officially one of the BADDEST motherfuckers on this planet!" "Yeah," I said.
"So how you been, bro? Heard anything from your fellow jailbirds? How's that fuckboy doing?" "Oh, HIM," he said bitterly. I was, of course, referring to woman-beater Tyson. Then he gave a harsh laugh. "My nigga Donnie wrote me just yesterday. He said that nigga's first day in there was pure fuckin' HELL.
Apparently, about 20 dudes got hold of him at the same time." "Oh yeah? And did they take kindly to him?" "Well, put it this way," he said.
"It makes what we did to him look like all we did was wiggle our pinky fingers in his ass." "HAHA!" I roared. "Well, serves that fucker right." "I know, man," he said. "Well bro, just thought I'd call ya and see if that rumor was true.
Good shit, little brother. I'm gonna smoke one for ya." "Hell yeah, brother," I said. "I'll hit you up soon." Sunday passed with a different atmosphere. The news that the crazy white boy on campus had thoroughly dicked down the racist professor's wife had traveled through the school in no time, mainly because the video had been passed around, sent around and whatnot.
Now guys were clapping me on the back, calling me one badass motherfucker. Girls were looking at me, clearly wondering if my dick was really THAT good; as if all of a sudden, they all wanted to fuck me. But hey, as much as I love pussy, I wasn't keen on fucking too many girls; many of them were straight up whores, and I didn't have time for STDs, you know?
On Monday, I was just getting out of class in the afternoon, when I looked down the hall, and saw him; Dr. Lattimore was coming out of the bathroom. He looked a real mess; his usually neat, crisp clothes were wrinkled. His bloodshot eyes had shadows under them, like he hadn't slept in days.
In fact, his overall impression was of someone who had aged at least 10 years, someone who had fallen into a deep depression. Indeed, his wife's infidelity coupled with his son's expulsion had really done a number on him. But now he had to contend with students making snide remarks about him, as had happened all morning. I grinned to myself, thinking 'How's it feel to be on the receiving end of a bunch of teasing, you dumb bastard?' The hallway was full of people, and two girls ahead of me were having a louder-than-necessary conversation as we walked down the hall, closer to where Lattimore was standing with his head bowed.
"So do you think he'll do it?" the light-skinned girl said. "You think he'll stop being a slacker?" "Well gee, I don't know," said the darker girl with heavy sarcasm. "Maybe he will, maybe he won't. But if he doesn't, he'll need to be punished." "Really? How?" "Hmmm," the dark girl replied, and she glanced back at me. "Maybe I'll just get that nigga Cody to fuck his wife! I hear he's EXCELLENT at that!" The people around us burst into laughter, looking over at Lattimore, whose head had jerked up at her words.
"Oh yes," said the fair-skinned chick. "That Cody kid could make her moan loud enough. But I'm scared he might accidently call her 'Sylvia!'" More laughter, until— "YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!" Lattimore grabbed the girl by her shirt, drew his hand back, and slapped her in the face hard enough to knock her down.
"SON OF A—" I roared, making to throw a punch at him. But before I could get anywhere near him, three other guys were on him, beating the shit out of him. "ENOUGH!" roared a voice, and we turned to see two of the campus police officers making their way toward Lattimore.
People shouted them down at once. "He's a woman beater!" "He just smacked the hell outta Bianca!" "Throw his ass in jail!" "It's okay, I saw everything," said the officer, and he knelt down beside Lattimore, who was whimpering, a bruise forming under one eye. "So, assaulting students, are we?
Females at that? AND drinking on the job?" The officer pulled from Lattimore's pocket a silver flask and opened it. I could detect the faint smell of rum. "Well now," he said. "This just won't do, will it? I think it's safe to say your days here are OVER." The officer forced Lattimore's hands behind his back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, then pulled him to his feet. Now his face was shining with sweat and tears.
He looked straight at me as the officer hauled him away. "Look what you've done to me," he sobbed. "How could you do this?" "Hold it," I said to the officer. He stopped, holding fast to Lattimore.
I walked up to him and got right up in his face. His breath smelled like rum as well. "I told you, Lattimore," I said in my coldest, calmest voice. "You AND that kid of yours would regret the day you met me. Now look where your bigotry's gotten you. I think it's safe to say, karma has caught up with you. Goodbye, HENRY." I accented it with relish; calling him by his first name to his face gave me immense satisfaction.
I gave my cool grin as he was led away by the cop. People were staring at me in admiration, and I took my exit. Like something out of a movie, I put my shades on and walked out the door, lighting up a smoke.
"He is so COOL," I heard people whispering behind me. I smiled as I walked away. I had gotten some of the best pussy I'd ever had, gotten rid of the Lattimores, and gained the respect of every student on the yard. From then on, people looked at me like I was above human status, almost like I was a god. My senior year of college had gotten off to an EXCELLENT start…