Prologue
Blind as a Bat
James
Summer 2005
“Stop calling me, BITCH!” he yelled at me through the phone. I was devastated because this nigga was the first guy I fucked with on a serious tip and he screwed me over big time.
“Where’s my fuckin money at, muthafucka?” I yelled back at him with fury in my voice and tears streaming down my face.
Click.
“Hello, Hello.”
“If you would like to make a call please hang up and try again,” the automated message played in my ear. I looked at the phone in disbelief. “I know this muthafucka ain’t just hang up on me.”
Tyrone and I were in love and had planned on moving in together. I trusted him since the first day we met. I meet him while working at my job at Target. We worked in the same store but in separate departments. I stumbled on to this down low brotha that worked in the music section of the store. His ass played me from the beginning. The first week we met, his ass said he needed money to get his car fixed and if I did we would drive to work together everyday. So I forked over two hundred and fifty dollars from my next paycheck. His car never got fixed and the mass transit bus services continued to be my mode of transportation. I was green as the grass on the lawn of the white house but, I was “in love” so I ignored the red flags that were being waved in my face.
After a short while this nigga just up and quits working and started collected money from me like he was on social security and I was his beneficiary. I gave him three hundred dollars every other week to save for our love nest. After a while the only time this nigga would call me was the day before payday and that was just to butter my ass up with statements like “you my baby,” or “I love you so much.”
Man, I was a dumb ass fool. Eventually, my giving him my money caused me to get evicted from my own spot and I had to shack up in my aunt’s house on one of her kids’ pissy ass twin bed. Her house was kid and roach infested, but I stayed because Tyrone said we would be “moving” into our own place very soon. He said he was going to hold me all night and we could fuck any time we wanted to and shit like that. I sucked that shit up like a Hoover vacuum.
This nigga had a three-inched dick and he didn’t even know how to fuck. When I looked back on the situation I shook my head because, I musta been blind as Ray Charles in a blackout. This nigga said he lived in his “sister’s” house but, he had my ass sneaking in the house after she went to work and her kids went to school. He would make sure I was in and out of the house in less than a half hour so no one would catch me leaving his house. Shit, we didn’t even need that much time. His ass would cum after only a couple of pumps in my ass. He then would make me clean myself up in a couple of seconds, literally, and then push my ass out the door. Sorry ass muthafucka didn’t even say goodbye most of the time. I had a better time fucking my mother’s big black plastic dick she had under her mattress when I was a teenager.
After about a year of this-merry-go round shit, some of my close friends began to tell me things like “I was getting played” and “that nigga spending ya money on some other chick or dude.” I still didn’t wanna believe my friends so I kept on “dating” him. I even walked to work a couple of times, which was about an hour and a half walk. And that was because I was giving this nigga my money to put in a bank account and he said he couldn’t go to the bank to get me bus fare, out of our money. I just brushed it off because he said he was teaching me how to be responsible with money. Yeah, his ass was schooling me good. His ass took me for about nine grand in about a year and a half time. I finally wised up and saw what was before my eyes the whole time. He was a low down dirty bastard that played me like I was a puppet. I was a lemon being squeezed for all I was worth.
Come to find out that muthafuckin Tyrone had his own place and a car the whole time we were “together”, while I was moving back and forth from my aunt and my sister’s house because they took turns putting me out. And to top it off this nigga had somebody else on the side, his wife. I was devastated, so I called him on all of it and he denied all of it. So I broke it off and demanded my money back. He tried to act like he was too hurt to give me my money back and that he really loved me and wanted me back. He would call my cell and work phone and try to convince me that I was making a mistake of dumping him. I finally realized that this nigga was living off of my money, which happened to be all gone, the whole time. This nigga had a wife and kids and he couldn’t keep a job. That was why he was calling me because he wasn’t working and his bills were becoming due again. His wife must didn’t know about his sorry ass, but I did. I had my mind made up and his ass was ancient history.
Tired of the life in San Francisco I decided to move cross the country to Baltimore in search of a new life and revenge on any unsuspecting man that crosses my path. Whoever he was he’s going to pay and pay big. I’m taking revenge on all the down-low brothas I meet. I am going to get my money back, plus some.
“Hello,” A strange but polite female answered Tyrone’s house phone. I had Googled his ass on the Internet and I found his house phone number and when I finally found it decided I was going to do a hit and run. I was sitting outside their happy home waiting to make my move. “Yeah, this muthafucka is going to get payback one way or the other.” I thought to myself
“Who am I speaking with?” I asked in a tone matching hers.
“I’m Michelle,” she said in an upbeat manner.
“His wife?” I quizzed her.
“Why yes, and you are?” She questioned me.
“Oh, I’m Jerry.”
“Well Jerry, how can I help you?” she said, following up with another question.
“Well, I just called to tell you that your husband Tyrone and I have been fucking for about a year and half now and I just wanted to let you know where your husband was when he said he was away on business trips.” I blurted it out without any care for her feelings.
“He…he…what?” she stammered in disbelief. “Tyrone, my Tyrone?” she said for clarity.
“Yeah Bitch, ya faggot ass husband Tyrone Jenkins, was at my house in my bed eating my ass and sucking my big black dick while you was at home taking care of his kids” I made it crystal clear. She let out a loud gasp.
“What kind of sick joke is this?” I just continued on talking.
“This ain’t no joke, cunt, and just in case you don’t believe me, here’s proof, bitch.” I yelled in the phone as I threw the DVD and pictures of me and Tyrone fucking tied to a brick through their front window. His ass didn’t know I was a freak by nature and recorded our little sex sessions. I even took pictures of him sleeping after we fucked. I was doing this so I could keep the memories, but I never knew I would have to use them too pay him back for the ultimate betrayal.
I pushed the gas peddle in my rental car and peeled off. I looked through my rear view window. I could see a woman in the door holding the home wrecking package in her hand. I still had my cell phone on so I added more salt to the open wound.
“I loved the satin comforter set on your bed. It felt so good and soft against my skin as Tyrone fucked me in every position on it,” I said, knowing she still had the phone in her hand, because I heard her heavily breathing. “Oh, and give Tyrone and the boys a kiss goodbye for me.”
“How could you, how could you, you fucking no good bastard!!” I heard her yelling in the background at who I assumed was Tyrone. She dropped the phone and all hell broke loose, I heard loud noises like shit crashing and being thrown. I let out a loud cackling laugh as I hung up my cell phone and headed towards the airport. I walked through the airport to my gate and got on my plane to Baltimore, leaving all my shit behind. I burst out into laughter to myself all through the flight knowing Tyrone’s ass is probably still getting fucked up by his wife as I made my way across the country. I know people thought I was crazy, but I could care less. I was deeply hurt by Tyrone and he walked all over my heart like I was a door mat. He was the one that I thought would give me the love I so desired, the love that I needed so bad to live off of. It was also the love that my father and my uncle took from me when they took my manhood.
As I got off the plane and headed to the baggage claim area I thought to myself about the hurt I endured at the hands of a heartless man in California. My anger had boiled over to rage and I knew for sure that these niggas in Baltimore better watch the fuck out. A new bitch was in town and I was gonna get mine. They say ain’t nothing like a woman scorned. Fuck that shit. How about ain’t nothing like a bisexual-down-low-brotha-who-was-fucked-over- with-no-grease scorned. The women in this city better hold on to their men tight, cuz I’m taking brothas for all their money and their hopes and dreams too. Fuck families, get money. Holla!
Shawn
Freaks Come Out At Night
“Um yeah Suck Daddy’s big ass dick, ya slut,” I moaned and thrusted my dick as this queen was going to town. My dick was close to nine inches long and five inches around curved to the left with a mushroom shaped head and this bitch ass nigga was taking in all my meat like a shelter in the winter that was housing the homeless. Slurp, slurp, slurp, was the sound of him going down on my dick after he spit on it making it, easier to bob up and down on. He was slurping, sucking and licking my chocolate stick while squeezing at my balls at the same time.
He was sucking my prick so good that I was thinking “This nigga musta taught that ‘Superhead’ bitch her moves”. He was treating my shit like it was a Tootsie roll pop and he was trying to see how many licks it was going to take to get the center. He was bobbing up and down my pipe for about fifteen minutes and my shit was about to pop. This faggot had my ass drooling and foaming at the mouth he was so good. “Damn this shit feels good.” I moaned as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
“Ah shit, ah shit, man. I’m about to cum,” I yelled as he pulled up and let my dick explode like a volcano that has been dead for centuries. As my cum squirted in his watering mouth he swallowed all my man juices like he was a fat girl drinking Slimfast and needed to lose fifty pounds by next week.
“Ahhhh milk does a body good,” he said as he licked his lips catching the little bit of cum that oozed from the side of his mouth with his tongue. This guy was a total queer. I had to get the hell away from him and fast. I zipped up my pants and handed him his forty dollar fee. I had to make up some excuse to get this faggot out of my car.
“Look man I need to go home I gotta feed my dog, and if I don’t get home soon he’s gonna start tearing up my shit,” I lied knowing good and well I don’t own any fucking pets.
“Oh, okay honey” he said in a feminine voice. “If you ever need me again here’s my card,” With that, he climbed out the car. I know his trick ass ain’t’ got no card. “Slurpologist”. I said reading his card. “What the fuck.” His number is 410-eat-meat.” I said to myself in disbelief. “Let me get the fuck out of this place, before someone I know sees my ass.” I put my car in reverse and turned around and I got my ass outta dodge, leaving the man-whore in my dust.
I can’t believe I was just in Druid Hill Park getting my dick waxed. During the day Druid Hill Park was a family park where joggers jog around the reservoir carefree and pet owners walked their pets in crisp cool air, while teenagers shot hoops on the various basketball courts scattered throughout the park. But at night deep in the secluded parts of the park cars were lined up waiting for as the songs goes “the freaks too come out at night.”
Men and women waited for tricks to pull up to make some quick cash performing various sexual acts for any willing “John or Joanna” that displayed interest. I was supposed to be at work, working late, but here I am in the woods. I need to leave this shit alone.
As I was driving my phone started to ring. I looked down and noticed it was my wife calling. She was probably wondering what was taking mo so long to get home.
“Hey, baby,” I said, answering the phone with my Bluetooth.
“Hey baby, it’s eleven o’clock, are you on your way home?” she asked. “Yeah I just left the office.” I lied.
“Really, I called your cell phone twice and it just rang.”
“Oh, I left my phone in the car.” I lied once again knowing I couldn’t just tell her that some queen was giving me some bomb ass head and I was ignoring her calls.
“Well, I called your office phone and that phone just rang as well” She quizzed me again. “Oh I was working in my bosses’ office, because my pc was on the fritz.” I lied again.
“Oh, Okay.” she said with a hint of unbelief. “Anyway I was just calling to tell you to stop by Shoppers and pick up some milk for the kids breakfast.”
“Sure, Baby. Is there anything else we need?” I said feeling guilty for messing around on my wife. And to make it worst it was with a man.
“No, babe that’s all,” she said her loving tone.
For as long as I can remember I had been fighting off the raging monster in me. I finally gave into my urges one day in high school with another down low dude that was in my gym class. He gave me my first blowjob in the locker room and I have never been the same since. I mean I love my wife and all, but I got this beast in me that gets hungry and doesn’t quit until it’s been fed.
I am a good husband and an even better father to my two kids, Ashley and Alex, my six-year-old twins. My family is my world and I would lay down my life for anyone of them. I just need to get some counseling or something so I can get rid of this demon. I know I can beat this and get my life back on track.
“Let me get to this market and get home to my wife,” I said out loud as I made my way to the market and then home.
Chapter 1
Shawn
My First Mistake
3 years later… Spring 2008
I looked out the window of my twelfth floor office, admiring the view of the city of Baltimore. It’s my home and I loved it. Yes, it was one of the nations leading cities in crime, but hell it was home to me. It was the home of tens of thousands of people. Drug addicts, prostitutes, drug dealers and many other degenerates. But on the up side, we have a bustling Harbor district filled with shops and attractions that makes us a thriving city. We have summers filled with tourist that flood the city with hopes of getting to feast on the best crab cakes and beer and enjoy a good baseball game at Camden Yards.
We had some of the top colleges and universities right within the city limits. It was a beautiful city when you really looked around and took advantage of the sites. But, if you were a stranger just moving here, watching the news just might scare the shit out of you. Sending you packing back to where ever you came from. Yes, this city wasn’t for the faint of heart. And the crime was almost unheard of, but it was my home. And you couldn’t tear me away from it.
I was a criminal defense lawyer and I loved it. It wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but it was a living. A six figure living I might add. I lived in an upper-class three bedroom detached house in Randallstown, so I really didn’t get to experience the “city” life, until I’ve commuted into the city for work.
I work with what most people would call the “low-lifes” of the city and I was happy to do it. Guilty or not, I got you off. I had a high success rate and was making my way up the ranks. I was pushing to make partner at my firm. Grueling hours and multiple cases were worth providing for my family. It was the reason I woke up everyday and pressed my way to work. I lived and breathed family. So why is it so hard for me to look in the mirror some days?
To start I was deceiving my family and it was killing me inside. I lived and breathed deception and I was taught it at a young age. It’s probably why I am excelling so well at my job. I specialized in lying to other and mostly myself.
My life was torn into two lives and no one knew that I am living a double life. Most called it the down-low lifestyle, but I called it the low-down lifestyle. Because most days I feel like I am more corrupt then the people I represent. You wouldn’t know that if you looked at me, because I get away with a lot of shit. You couldn’t see the pain and anguish that I masked so well. But again, that was because I learned to hide it well at an early age. In my house as a child, no always didn’t mean no. I learned to dress in fine clothes and shoes to hide my reality. So I covered my pain in Versace and Fendi.
This is my life on….. Both sides of the fence.
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