Date: Wed, 31 Jul 2002 20:10:59 EDT
From: Wyzman34@aol.com
Subject: Brothers Like Us Chapter 14

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.