She sucked my cock for about 10 minutes, slurping and gagging on the shaft like a porn star. “Ummmmm yeah, now give me that big juicy dick!”
Then she laid back and spread her legs, and I started working it in. She was crying and moaning, as I stroked her back and forth and sucked her nipples.
She had these huge areolas, and her titties were smooth and soft like silk. Her pussy was so tight, I never wore a condom. If I wore a condom it would just pop after a few strokes. She told me she was on the pill, so every time we had sex, I would cum all in her hot pussy. But this time, it was different. I came harder than ever before. I felt like this was a super baby making climax!
We both laid there breathing hard, and she started kissing my chest and sucking on my cock again. I asked her, “Are you still on the pill?” She replied, “Don’t worry if I get pregnant my daddy will get me an abortion, like he did before.” I sat up and yelled, “Like he did before?”
She laughed, “Silly you got me pregnant twice! You can’t cum all in me and think it won’t happen. I forget to take my pill a lot.” I said, “What the fuck!” She sat up, “Baby he didn’t know it was you! I swear! It’s that weed got me fucked up, I’m running my mouth too much.” I got up and told her, “Get the fuck out of my house. How could you kill two of my babies and not tell me until you fucked up and got too high today?”
She started crying and climbed out the window, “Shawn you gon be sorry you did this shit.”
I said, “Bitch if you tell your father, I’m gon fuck you up, real talk.” And for the first time I can recall, she really looked afraid of me. I think she believed I would do it; as she ran to her car and took off like a bat out of hell! Ironically, her father, Ole Sarge called me early Saturday morning with enough enthusiasm to make me jump out the bed.
I was sleepy and still thinking about that little encounter with his daughter, but I was still happy that Sarge called me on that morning with good news, instead of accusing me of fucking his daughter. I really needed some good news. Sarge told me that I could come in the recruiting station on Monday evening to take the practice exam, so I agreed.
After I got off the phone I decided to get up and start my day. I went to the kitchen and made a big bowl of Captain Crunch, which has been my favorite breakfast since I grew my first four teeth. My mother was still in bed, she worked the midnight shift the night before and I knew she must have been tired. Because she normally tries to get up before me so she could inspect my room while I was sleep. My mother always thought the worst when she left me in the house alone at night. I think she must have believed I had drugs in my room. But I was never stupid enough to keep anything illegal where she could find it.
As a matter of fact, I kept my pistol under the couch in our living room. I used a hole in the bottom of the couch and stuck my gun on a little piece of wood in the frame of the couch. I knew my mom would never think I was courageous enough to try some junk like that. I started picking things up off the floor and slowly I cleaned up the living room. After an hour, my mother awoke and saw what I had done. She looked like she was going to cry for a moment, but maybe she was yawning. I just yelled out a quick “Hey Mom” and bounced out the door to go on a little jog.
It’s a shame that I never realized how much damage cigarettes and weed does to your lungs. Although I was built, my lungs were very weak. I could only run about two city blocks before I was completely winded! I pushed myself to the limit that morning and ran 1 mile. Then I walked around the city for hours, like I was lost.
I felt a sense of accomplishment that morning,
I decided to go home and take a nap instead of looking for trouble. I was tired as hell when I got home, and still sweating and dehydrated.
My mom was in the living room talking to one of her friends on the phone. I wanted to tell her about my plans to join the Army, but it wasn’t time yet. I had to wait until I was sure the deal was going down.
She looked up when I walked in, “Where in the hell have you been, Shawn have you been doing drugs?” I gave her the mumble treatment, “Nawl Mom, I don’t do drugs, they burn your brain cells.” She looked away and said, “Yeah right, I know you out there doing something wrong. You sneaky Shawn, I know you boy! So what is the deal with this Job you supposed to have? I heard you been hanging around some street corner on the West side!”
My mother started getting ghetto on me, I knew she was pissed! I felt a chill run up my spine. I was wondering who saw me on the corner, and most importantly, how much did they see?
“Ma I was just out there seeing one of my boys, who you got spying on me?”
She replied, “Shawn I’m grown, I got friends all over, I been in this town all my life, which is twice the time you’ve been here.” Then she looked away and continued listening to the person on the other end of her phone. “He was doing what? No, not my Shawn, nawl you don’t have the right, what? Girl I got to go he’s standing right here! Oh okay, bye!” Then she stood up and looked at me like she wanted to whip out a belt and beat my ass, and I knew this look very well.
She screamed at me this time, “Shawn have you been selling dope?” I looked at her shamefully and kept walking toward my room, “Mom you know that’s not me, I may be in the streets, but I’m not a fool, you know your son better than that don’t you?
She quickly picked the phone back up and called the same person she was talking to previously so she could finish her conversation. My mom always wanted to believe in me. She was trying to defend my honor, because my mom loved me. That’s why I had to do something good. Because I loved her too much and she deserved at least one success story in her life!
I remember once my mom told me this Bible story about The Prodigal Son. He was a son of a rich man or something. Anyway, he ran away and blew his inheritance money on partying and wild living. So I guess, after he blew all his money, he had to get a terrible job, so he changed his mind and went home.
I think his brother was mad or something because his father decided to bless him and hold a feast for him, instead of cutting him off.
I remember thinking, I would do anything in this world, to get Barry out of Jail and keep him out of trouble. I would be happy for my brother. I didn’t even get the meaning of the story back then. It was about how GOD will forgive us the same way, no matter what we do, or how bad the situation. My mom tried to tell me stuff and show me the right way, from time to time. As a result of all that drama with my mom, I decided to stop smoking weed. I think most people smoke dope because of peer pressure. When everybody else you hang with does a particular thing, you just get with the program to avoid looking like a lame. The next morning when I got to school I was sober as a Sunday school teacher.
But I still couldn’t concentrate to save my life.
I kept thinking about my Army test throughout the whole day. I barely heard three words that my teachers said. I was looking beyond school.
During lunch I saw Damon, and he just walked past me like he didn’t know me. That was the first time I saw him since I whipped his ass. I got the feeling that he was avoiding me by the way he wouldn’t make eye contact. Damon didn’t look so tough today, as a matter fact he looked kind of scared. I sat down by myself and tried to mentally recall some of the things I had learned this school year.
I was just sitting there, flipping through pages of my high school textbooks and trying to recall the important stuff. I started to stress over the army test, and that’s rare for me. I normally didn't give a shit whether I passed a test, or if the teacher used it for a coffee coaster. But I always seemed to make passing grades.
I held on to the hope that I would somehow and in some way pass my army exam and make my mother proud of me! I thought about the conversation about selling drugs my mother had with me the other day. I was wondering about so many things that day.
I kept asking myself, who in the hell did she talk to? I obviously had a leak in my little white lie. You never know who’s watching you when you’re doing dirt.
The rest of the day flew past like a time warp. As soon as the last bell rang, I was headed straight to the Army recruiting station.
Their facility was located in an old professional plaza on the east side of town. It was quite inconspicuous to the naked eye. I had driven past it many times not knowing what it was. The building sort of looked like an abandoned medical office. As I walked in the building I saw some Army guys huddled around a computer.
After they saw me, they all dispersed and pretended to be busy. The guy on the computer logged off as if he had something to hide. Maybe they were looking at an X-rated website or something?
Sgt. Scott was the only person that I didn’t see right away. One of the recruiters approached me. “What can I do for you Sir?”
I replied, “Well, I’m looking for Sgt. Scott; I have an appointment with him.”
He squinted his eyes and said, “Well, he’s a little busy, can I help you?”
I blurted out, “I’m here to take a test.”
He looked confused, “The ASVAB isn’t administered at this location.”
I said, “No I don’t mean the ASVAB; I’m talking about the practice exam.” He quickly walked over to a file cabinet. I looked at his name tag and at first it looked like he had a strange name like “Zoogle” or something. He didn’t have the same type of rank on his uniform as Sgt. Scott; this guy had a yellow bar on his collar. I wasn’t sure what he was, but the rest of the recruiters called him sir and he seemed to be the guy in charge. He walked over to me and said, “Here you go, what’s your name?”
“Umm my name is Mister, I mean Shawn”
He chuckled, “Okay Shawn, you know, to be a teenager, you have incredible muscle tone. Have you ever taken anabolic steroids?”
I said, “Hell no Sir, this is all natural.”
He replied, “Ok great! Take this form and go into that room on your left, you have approximately 15 minutes to complete this portion of the practice test. When you are done let me know.” This recruiter seemed to be a really cool guy. He was more laid back than Sgt. Scott. He was a young white guy, with a curly high top fade. He kind of looked like Vanilla Ice, the white rapper. He had a narrow shaped head and a nose like an eagle. His outstanding feature was his dramatically pale colored skin. He also had a lot of those stress lines on his forehead. He looked like a guy who was stressed and slightly aged beyond his true age. He didn’t walk like a robot, like Sgt. Scott, he was more relaxed and had a swagger to his step. I could tell that he knew he was the man in charge.
He said, “By the way, my name is Lieutenant Ziegler. I’ll let Sgt. Scott know you’re here.” I nodded my head and walked in the room closing the door behind me. The room looked really sterile, like a science lab in some futuristic movie.
There was even an observation window directly in front of the single desk placed in the middle of the room.
I felt kind of intimidated as I sat down in the hard metal desk. It was like I was being watched. The recruiters gathered around and a couple took a glimpse at me as they were talking, as if they were placing bets on how I would do. I must admit, I probably looked like a joke to them.
Here I am, a white boy with braids down to my shoulders, gold bracelets on both wrists and baggy sweatpants sagging on my ass with a wife beater t-shirt on. I was wearing a gold Gucci link chain that hung down to the top of my chiseled stomach. On my chain I wore a charm in the image of the head of Jesus. My charm was about the size of a Nokia Cellular phone.
I probably looked like a drug dealer to these guys. But hey, that’s not some outrageous assumption. I really was a true to life drug dealer only a short time prior to that day. But as I reflect on this time period, I realize this was another huge turning point in my life.
Chapter 4: Thug Life Interlude
I was introduced to the streets at a young and tender age. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my brother. Before he got locked up, he was the head gangster in charge of our neighborhood, even though he was white. Barry was a strikingly handsome dude. He had long fine hair that hung to the small of his back. He was really tanned all the time, like our father, and he stood about 6’4. Barry was naturally muscular and had broad shoulders with an almost disproportionately small waist. He was built like an NFL football player too.
He had tattoos all over his body. A panther on the left side of his neck, an AK-47 on his chest and two large tattoos on the bottom side of his forearm that read on the left, “I win some” and on the right, “I loose none.” On his back he had an eagle stretching across his shoulder blades with full wingspan from the top of one shoulder to the top of the other in perfect symmetry. On the back of his neck, beneath his hair he had a tattoo of a hand grenade. On his stomach he had a Tattoo that read “MURDERER”. And Barry was indeed a murderer. He was the type of dude that walked quietly and carried a big stick. Everyone always said I looked like Barry’s twin, without the tats.
We were all naturally built that way.
Barry moved out the house when I was a little kid. Because once he got in an argument with my mother and he called her a bitch. That was the straw the broke the camel’s back. She kicked him out without remorse. I think he scared her that day, because he sounded just like our father, and he looked like him too. Barry had about 10 grand in his pocket the day he left. He was a Captain in the Thug Gangsters, a street gang that populated most of the south side of Chicago. He got his rank from killing rival gang members without hesitation. He got the nickname “Grenade” because you never knew when he would explode!
Once when I was a little kid, a new dude moved to our neighborhood, trying to sell crack on our block. Of all the blocks in The City, this fool had to come around our set. He wasn’t out there but three hours before my brother got the phone call. Barry picked the phone up like he usually did, and in a cool and calm baritone voice he mumbled, “What up?” I was sitting on the floor watching Spiderman when he snapped and started cursing. He was yelling and squeezing the phone so hard, I swore he cracked it.
Barry had these big ass hands like a farmer or somebody who use their hands a lot, kind of like my father’s hands. Barry was yelling into the phone, “What the hell that fool doing on my block?
He trying to take my motherfuckin business? Nawl my nigga, he gotta go right now!” Barry slammed the phone down and walked in his room. He rambled around in the drawers of his dresser. Then he went in the living room and lifted up the couch. He kept his pistol in a hole in the bottom of the couch, the same hole that I would use when I got older. My mother never lifted the couch up for any reason, not even when she vacuumed. So Barry kept this sweet ass chrome 9mm handgun, with a pearl looking handle hidden there. Damn that gun was nice He ran out the house with his pistol shoved in the small of his back under his shirt.
When Barry walked up on that dude he immediately changed his demeanor and was calm when he said, “Hey bruh can I get a bag of weed?”
The dude replied, “Nope, I only got cocaine, weed is for them motherfuckin kids, get with this grown man shit right here!”
Barry played along, “Let me see what them rocks look like, Damn my nig, you holdin it down out here huh?” Barry looked him over, sizing him up. The guy said, “Yeah pimp!” Then Barry pulled out a wad of money that was twice the amount this small timer probably had in his pocket, “Hey I wanna buy about 400 dollars’ worth!”
The dude almost freaked out when he saw all the money Barry was handling. “Hold up homie put all that money away, hey lets walk behind that building over there.” Barry walked with him behind the building, making sure that nobody saw him. When they got behind the building, that drug dealer turned around with his back to Barry and tried to pull a 22 pistol out of his front pocket. He was fumbling around like he was digging in his pocket for rocks. But he was stupid; Barry didn’t come to buy any drugs from him. Before he could even turn all the way around Barry already had the 9mm shoved in the guy’s back.
Barry growled, “Turn around real slow player, and drop the pistol!
” As the dude turned around, he stuck his little 22 caliber pistol under his armpit and shot through his coat striking Barry in the ribcage. Barry doubled over and the guy punched him in the eye. They struggled over Barry’s pistol for a short time before Barry overcame him, stuck the 9mm in this guy’s mouth, and blew his brains out. Barry emptied 5 rounds into that motherfucker’s mouth.
When Barry came back home he was holding his ribs like they were about to fall out of his chest. He walked into the bathroom, closed the door and stayed in there for about 20 minutes. Then he came out, made a phone call and left the house again
I don’t think he went to the hospital, because he was smart enough to know that the police would be calling hospitals looking for gunshot wound victims. Barry was a titan. I didn’t think he could be killed. A few weeks later he was shooting basketball with a bandage around his ribs.
That’s the type of thug Barry was. The other guy was found with his scalp smoking for about 15 minutes before the police got there. Barry was a man to be feared. I remember once he took me to his Spanish girlfriend’s house, and she had this crazy ‘baby daddy’. Barry didn’t give a damn about the baby’s dad though, Barry felt like he was the man to be respected, not the one to bow down. I remember sitting in this girl’s living room playing video games with her little brother before I heard an argument brewing on the front porch. The girl’s ex-boyfriend came over and was cursing her out from the sidewalk, calling her bitches and whores and stuff.
Her ex was this guy named Nester, a Cuban gang related dude from the suburbs. Nester was known to be a crazy idiot. Barry and Nester were in opposing gangs, and they had shot at one another on several occasions. Nester walked up and immediately showed disrespect, “Bitch why you fucking with that Cracker for?” That’s when Barry stood up and pulled his pistol out. Nester just stood there like he was fearless. Barry then placed the pistol down on the porch and walked down to the sidewalk.
White Heat Beast Page 3