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WMD Ch. 01

By: FinalStand



Editing magic performed by KJ24 and Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells

(WMD = Winter Men's Dilemma; My own irreverent spin on the BBC mythology)

This story is NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!

Once you go Black, you don't go back...unless you are an Amerindian, Arabic, Asian, Black, Indian, Latina, or White girl/guy who has tried Black, then found sexual fulfillment with a non-Black person and created a blissful relationship with them

Right off the bat, be warned that I'm using the 'N' words - nigger, niggah, my niggah, plus homie, thug, coon, buck, spook, spade and whatever other crude racial slurs that come to mind. This story plays to both Black and White stereotypes.

Lastly, this story is rather flippant with the entire concept of sexual assault. Those who have read my previous tales know this is not my attitude at all. For the sake of this genre I had to grapple with the concept of forcing a woman and 'making them love that dick'

Vlad ~ "You actually expect me to believe my Father, Brothers and I have the genetic capability to addict every woman we have sex with to our schlongs? That's nuts!"

Mom ~ "As opposed to thinking the color, length and girth of a phallus makes any woman lose all sense of loyalty, morality and decorum so she can become a man's sex sleeve - whore - bitch - property? Yes, I do."

*****

(The Family)

Father - Nikolay 'Nik' Samsonov; Mother - Gayle Fonteneau Samsonov; the Triplets - Alexander 'Alex', Mikhail and Vladimir 'Vlad' (POV character)

{Prelude ~ historical stuff; feel free to ignore}

My tale begins as the Winter Man Saga 1300 years ago (~ 700 AD). One small clan of my Swedish ancestors lost a brutal feud with their neighbors. Their farms were burned, animals slaughtered and their women and children taken as slaves. Only three young brother-warriors survived, wounded but unconquered. The victors chased them high into the mountains when a terrible winter storm struck.

The three brothers were trudging across a glacier between the mountain peaks in Whiteout conditions. The lead brother stepped into a crevasse and slid to the bottom of the glacier. Not giving up on their last kinsman, the other two slid down into the darkness after him. At the roots of that glacier they found an ice cavern formed by snow that fell 100,000 years ago.

They melted the ice for water with their body heat and in doing so, unleashed a demoness (virus) that no man had ever known and survived. The three men grew very sick, but their fierce desire for vengeance kept them from succumbing. When they emerged from their icy tomb, they discovered that several of their pursuers had frozen to death in the blizzard and the rest had returned to their stolen homes and purloined lands, thinking the three brothers were dead.

In the dark of the long northern night, they snuck upon the Great Hall of their enemies. When one of the brothers saw his 'former' wife doing a slave's work, he revealed himself to her. She rejoiced at the return of her love ... physically, then brought the three table scraps to survive on. In the process, they learned that their sisters were also alive and the sexual playthings of their male nemeses.

Due to the depth of winter, stealing back their womenfolk wasn't possible. They'd all freeze to death if they didn't starve first. To repay their enemy's wickedness, one of the brother's snapped and raped one of the chief's daughters. He was possessed with an unearthly desire and held her in a stable for hours. Only when he was utterly spent did he fall asleep.

She ran to her father and returned with many warriors. So the first of the brothers was taken. He was tortured and abused. For three long nights he suffered at the hands of his captors yet refused to admit any of his other brothers were still alive. After that third night, the chief's daughter sneaked past the sleeping guards of the chained man - and raped him.

For the next five nights, while her father, brothers and husband slept, she raped and raped and raped that brother. On the fifth night, a sister caught her at it. The daughter pled for the other to spare her ~ that the man's sexual prowess had ensnared her. She even challenged her kinswoman to sample the 'fruit' before turning her in. Five women later, the brother cracked and told the women how to find his brothers.

The night after the Spring Equinox Celebrations, the women of their enemy rose up and slaughtered all their adult menfolk at the behest of the three brothers - on the conditions that their youngest sons be spared and that the men continue to share their favors with all the womenfolk (who were not their kin).

The isolated region of the land of the Swedes kept my ancestors out of contact with the wider world for some time. Many generations later, a son of that clan came to lead a band of (female) Finns. His Swedish name is forgotten. The Finns called him Sami (the Exalted One - no shit). He and this band took to fur trading along the Eastern tributaries of the Volga.

In time, this group became identified with the Varangian. The Sons of Sami intermarried with the Slavs, becoming Slavicized and the Sons of Sami became Samsonovs. They followed the Rus expansion into the eastern tributaries of the Volga reaching Nizhny Novgorod in the 10th century.

Then came the Mongol Conquest, the Tartar Yoke, Rus reunification and the Russian drive across Siberia. The Samsonovs remained tightly clannish and uncomfortable in urban settings. That wanderlust led them across the Bering Straits into Alaska where their genetic abnormality, the gift of that ancient demoness (virus), slumbered in isolation and monogamy.

After a thousand years, the tales of mass orgies with strange women and protective female war bands faded into obscurity. Then my Mom, the brilliant, driven eccentric came along. Once she became enraptured with her own Samsonov lover, she had to know the secret of Samsonov men's sexual prowess.

With her burning intellect and educational background, she eventually figured it out. She was also amoral enough to keep the knowledge to herself and vengeful enough to plan to use our curse as a weapon.

(Genesis)

The lives of my family took an unexpected detour in the spring of this year. My great-aunt Matilda (Mattie) died and willed her estate to Mom. I had never met the woman while she was alive yet in death she would have a profound effect on all our lives. Mom's family was a mess; a crowded dingy with a madhouse of odd characters.

Lionel was my eldest maternal uncle. He was a Big, Bulging Brain working as a Chief Technical Advisor for NASA; a solitary crusader for all Mankind. What was he a technical advisor for? If anything left terra firma for more than fifteen seconds, he knew every detail about it. That included volcanic eruptions too. When we were younger, he invited us to various volcanoes (both above and beneath the waves). Great guy.

Cassius, my second uncle, was serving time in Indonesia for piracy. Mom said he was meaner than every saltwater crocodile that ever lived. The two times I'd met him, he'd been a lean, happy laconic kind of guy with a love for military history. Mom said he was a charismatic rebel who was possessed by an obsession to defy authority in all its forms.

Dido was child number three; my Mom's older sister, married to an Evangelical Televangelist in Nebraska under an assumed name - Paula Richmond. She also had a MD in Psychiatry and a Master's in Public Communications (under her real name), which she kept secret from the fundamentalist congregation. The few times we met ... she was the perfect mother. Secretly, we three sons wished she'd been our mother instead of our real mother. Mom said Aunt Dido was a master manipulator and wielded a cruel whip ...

Then there was Mom's twin, Uncle Theo, who never lived in one place, traveled all around the globe and had every law enforcement agency in the civilized world looking for him. We always receiving presents from him during all the normal holidays ... like Michaelmas, Holy Week, the start of Lent, Martinmas (his favorite) and our birthdays ... which arrived at random, unrelated times of the year and never from the same location.

He was the only one we'd never met, but the one Mom loved the most. Dad suspected he was a narco-trafficker while Mom insisted he was too paranoid to be considered reliable for that line of work. Mom told us he'd spent his formative years killing people for Uncle Sam until one day he simply walked away from Fort Bragg and became an independent contractor.

The Defense Department sent some fine, brave men from JSOC to talk to Mom every few months. They made sure not to trip over the CIA and Homeland Security types who occasionally staked out our house. We boys guessed they came around every time Uncle Theo assassinated people. Mom taught us how to appreciate them in an elaborate ritual she called 'April Fool's, which became an 'any day of the year' activity.

My Mom's father (I never met the guy) was a leader of a cult in Nevada. He went down, guns blazing during a DEA raid. Apparently his interests included both harems and marijuana production.

Mom's mom? She left my Mother outside a dive bar in San Diego and was never seen again. She had doctorates in Biology and Physics as well as the reputation for being a certifiable Space Cadet. Mom insisted her mom hadn't abandoned her - she'd simply forgotten where she left her youngest daughter who was 15 at the time.

After five days, Mom decided to join an Alternative Rock band instead of looking for the lady yet again. Seven years later, she was declared legally dead ... though all her offspring believed she was still alive ... somewhere ... doing something.

Then you had Dad's family. We had some characters on that side of the family, just not like Mom's. For starters, Samsonovs were bred for law enforcement. We'd been arresting bad guys since the 1500's. We'd been doing that in Alaska since the time of the tsars. When the Alaskan Territory was sold to the United States...well, my ancestors simply started writing their reports in English instead of Russian.

Over the centuries, we had bagged serial killers, smugglers, poachers, drug dealers, domestic abusers and thieves. Mostly they arrested drunks and wackos. My Great Grandfather Petrov was a law enforcement legend in Alaska. Alone, he ran down a pack of murderous robbers in the dead of winter before they made it to 'safety' in the Yukon Territory.

In the spring, they found them frozen solid, him leading five men - he recorded in his journal he'd killed the other three while apprehending the gang - back in chains. That pretty much defined the nature of my Father's family - no too many stellar geniuses, but always relentless past all norms of endurance and reason. The moment females were allowed enforcement, the womenfolk joined the profession.

My Aunt Iliana was in the Coast Guard - that made her the 'Black sheep' in this clan. Taking the law out to the high seas was about as wild as Dad's family got. Dad was pretty much the standard issue for my kin. Big - Dad was 6' 5" and 290 lbs. - and about as imaginative as a glacier. Why Mom married Dad had long been a mystery to his sons.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my Dad, but the man used a grand total of twenty different sentences his entire life. The fewer words he had to speak, the happier he was. He was a nice guy, never drinking too much and I'd never seen him lose his temper. He smiled, was unerringly polite and had always been helpful and playful with us kids from our earliest memories.

Grandpa, my great-aunts & -uncles, my aunts, uncles and cousins by blood were the exact same way. I mean that quite literally. We all pretty much looked alike as well. Those who married, married eccentrics. In our regular family get-togethers that translated over to the blood kin in one room saying and doing nothing (we were already cluing into some sort of primitive telepathy) and being very happy that way, while the married relations were in another room packing on the lunacy.

There was no middle ground; you were either a silent, brooding peak in the Samsonov mountain range, or the aurora borealis. That left me and my brothers - we were triplets, in a precarious position. We looked like smaller versions of our Dad (we were still growing) yet were totally at the mercy of our Mother most of our young lives. Recall what I said about eccentrics and lunatic behavior. Mom was the Queen of the Asylum.

Mom quickly fell in love with 'things' and she loved doing those things with family. Since Dad worked long hours, family meant my brothers and me. We could make passable pottery by age seven. Krav Maga? Screw this 'driving to some dojo in Anchorage' crap. Mom signed us up for a two week course in Israel and online lessons for a year. Archery - check. Rewiring our house and refitting all the plumbing - check.

The three of us were SCA squires at age 12. Pleading to Dad was pointless. He'd smile, mess up our hair and remind us these excursions made our Mother happy aka he wasn't going to help us have normal lives. We had some ex-Green Beret guys teach us outdoor survival skills in Wyoming. We could pull wool, make thread and knit a set of pants and sweaters.

I and my brothers had to memorize 1200 medically useful plants before we could get our Christmas presents when we were 14. We free-climbed mountains, ran 10Kms, kayaked, were proficient seamen on a sailing ship and learned how to navigate by the Sun, Moon and stars. Around the age of 15, we figured out that Mom had a ton of money squirreled away. There was no way Dad, with his civil servant's salary, could afford all this crazy shit.

By the age of 18 we had such a crazy patchwork set of skills, we weren't sure what we would end up doing with our lives ... though tracking down Uncle Theo and living a life on the run was looking more attractive every month. What we didn't have were great social lives. We all had girlfriends at one time, or another, but they never lasted.

Right before any of us were about to get serious with any girl in high school, my Mom dragged us off ... to things like a five day course on Renaissance artwork in Milan ... that's Italy. We had to learn to speak Italian in three days, plus during the flight over. Mom made it easy for us. We could only speak Italian the entire time. Doing that at school was 'fun'. Dad? He smiled and said nothing for three days.

{Welcome to the Fonteneau House, Kingston, Arkansas}

Anyway, Mom's Great-aunt Mattie kicked the bucket and left her vast fortune in northwestern Arkansas to my Mom. The old bird hated the rest of the nutjobs in the clan, but adored my Mom (and Theo). Upon receiving the news, my brothers and I began thinking the same thing: banjo lessons, redneck stunts and girls in Daisy Dukes. By 'fortune' we were thinking a ramshackle Ozark shack sitting on a mountain top.

Nope. Great-aunt Mattie was loaded. In fact, Mom's whole family had tons of money. They'd made a killing, quite literally, during the White expansion westward using various despicable means. They'd even been cursed by an entire Indian Tribe for bilking them off their land. Mom's family blamed that malediction for their bizarre behavior.

That Arkansas home was actually the summer residence for the Fonteneau clan from a hundred years ago. Along with the palatial residence came thousands upon thousands of acres spread over a quarter of the state (and some land in Texas, Missouri and Oklahoma too).

Tara, or the Biltmore estate, it was not, but it certainly had pretensions. It was a wide and roomy, rambling Victorian structure. The house proper (there were two barns, a stable, storage sheds, two garages [one attached and the other stand-alone], semi-attached servant quarters and four outlying hunting lodges) abutted the Kingston town limits.

The place was big enough to require Mom to employ six staff;

Phineas Cobb III, an angry, sullen old White guy and his carbon-copy son, Phineas IV, were our two Wardens. That meant they took care of the outlying property which included hunting down poachers, interlopers and moonshiners (the competition, no doubt) and seeing to the upkeep of the various lodges, roads, trails and bridges around the place. Phineas III and Mom ... well, he cried and hugged Mom when he saw her, so we didn't know what to think of him and his son.

Bebe Marston worked the stables and the twelve horses therein. She was a college dropout, White and 21; a woman at one of life's crossroads. Great Aunt Mattie brought her on a few months before she passed on. Bebe was a bit shy and distant around the menfolk. Mom treated Bebe like her long lost daughter; they got along fine.

Thomas Freeman was the groundskeeper. Thomas seemed nice enough - a polite and somewhat deferential older Black man. I liked him. Mom fired him the moment the lawyer finished reading Maggie's Will. She believed the man was a back-biter, liar and a thief.

Kamika Perry was the cook. She was a largish, plump Black woman with a large family in town. She was a tyrant in the kitchen but friendly and out-going everywhere else. She knew Mom from before ~ before what, we didn't know. She was close to Mom's age and was the niece of the former cook. She and Mom were cordial yet a tad formal.

Nefertiti Cooke was the upstairs maid. She was a whip-tin attractive Black woman in her late-20s and joined Thomas heading out the door. Mom discharged her due to Nefertiti's sour attitude and general unwillingness to adhere to a work schedule.

Anita Turner was our downstairs maid and overall manager of the other servants. Like Kamika, she knew Mom from her previous stay at the house, though Anita was already part of the staff back then. They acted like old friends though they understood the mistress-servant dynamics of their relationship.

Mom solved our labor shortage by bringing in Mexicans (Hondurans actually). The two families divided up the nine rooms in the detached servants' quarters with Bebe, since Anita and Kamika lived in town and the Cobb's had their own cottage somewhere on the property.

Hector Martinez became our new groundskeeper. He had a wife - Maria. Mom enrolled her in some online college courses so she could get a teaching license. They were both pretty young.

Consuela Castro was our new upstairs maid. She was a single mother with a son - Gustavo (10) - and a daughter - Isabo (6); they went to the local elementary school in town. Both families were very nice to us and seemed happy with their current circumstance. Since this job was their first go at being domestic servants, Mom told us to be patient and respectful while they learned the ropes from Anita and Mr. Cobb (only Mom could call him Phineas without pissing him off).

My brothers and I, our Father, the Martinez's and the Castro's couldn't have predicted the shit-storm Mom was creating between our house and the dominant Black populace of Kingston along the great racial divide. The Hondurans had spent half their lives learning to keep their heads low when faced with discrimination. We didn't, nor did we know that Mom was acting with deliberate malice of forethought at that time.

To help appreciate our understanding of the situation, we triplets had known a grand total of four Black people well enough to call them by their Christian names our entire lives. One was a crazy, older guy who had been a sniper at some point in his military career. By crazy, I meant he'd go off on tangents in mid conversation, or just stopping entirely. We all liked the guy.

He and Granddad Samsonov were real tight. They'd served together in Vietnam and we boys suspected something bad had happened to them both - something which scarred and bound them together closer than brothers. He and Alexander went hunting all the time back in Alaska. All I knew was Morris (Grandpa's comrade-in-arms) was treated like family.


WMD Ch. 01



That meant if Morris got in trouble, fifteen to twenty Samsonov's would show up to bail him out. That's what family meant. The other two were a retired Air Force couple, Parker and Mariana Carrington plus their infant William, that had moved in next door (that's 40 yards away in Alaska) when I was fourteen. They were in their early thirties and wanted to start a family. The woman had been pregnant with her second child when we left.

My Mom and another neighbor trundled her off to a clinic during her first birth. Dad had driven fifty miles in a blizzard to get her husband, so he could witness his firstborn come into the world. The man worked as a fishing boat mechanic and had gotten stuck at work when his wife went into early labor. It was the Alaskan way to look after one another.

I never much thought about minorities. There were nearly as many Native Alaskans attending my schools as White folk. The Natives knew my family going back eight generations. I had a few cousins who were 'First Peoples'. Minority? Majority? We were Alaskans and that was that.

Again, I didn't think much about there being a social and economic racial crevasse when I showed up in Kingston, Arkansas. I probably would have been totally blind-sided about it if Dad hadn't done his due diligence and went to the Kingston Police Station and Davis County Sheriff's Office to report his status as an Alaskan State Trooper and register his firearms.

Since we didn't know what to look for, we missed the obvious signs of trouble. The Black police officer that Dad talked to was ... impolite. He informed Dad there would be no 'courtesy' given despite Dad's professionalism - i.e. he wasn't permitted to carry any of his licensed firearms. The Sheriff's department was very different.

We met the Sheriff and the man got Dad to be about as verbose as I'd ever seen him. The Sheriff verified Dad's story, gave him a 90 Day permit for his sidearm and told him to make no never mind over the Town cops' hostility. He certainly seemed pleased Dad had three big, strong, strapping boys and gave Dad an application to join his department.

That night, Dad informed us all at the dining room table he was considering the Sheriff's job offer. Mom was secretly pleased (like her sister, she IS an evil mastermind and master manipulator). Anita, Bebe and Kamika were eating with us as well - Mom insisted all the help do so (the Hondurans weren't with us yet) - and I detected a hint of worry in their posture. I would have thought 'us' staying in the house, thus their continued employment, would be seen as a good thing.

That night, over some late night cocoa, Mom gave the family the regional 4-1-1. Kingston was 75% Black, 20% White and 5% other. The rest of Davis County was 95% White and 5% Black and other. In Kingston, the Blacks ruled the town. All elected officials and police officers were Black. The Sheriff's department had a few Black officers, but was mostly White.

It would have been all White except a combined lawsuit by Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) and NAACP forced the County to 'integrate'. I asked the logical question: why hadn't the town been forced to integrate too? Mom told me that wasn't how things worked in the Lower 48. Here, Blacks couldn't discriminate; they could only be discriminated against.

The Federal government said so. I was sensing shades of Uncle Theo in Mom's blanket assessment of things. My brothers and I were wrong. Mom was right. We were entering White Man's Hell aka Big Black Cock Country. Of course, Mom wasn't sadistic, or masochistic. She had a tidbit of knowledge no one this side of British Columbia was aware of - a Secret Weapon.

Dad applied for and got the job of Senior Deputy, which riled some of the other (read: Black) deputies, but Dad's extensive experience and easy-going manner eased his entry into the unit. Mom remained Mom - an unconventional, beautiful, free-spirited kook. She made no effort to make friends. I was the boldest of the triplets so I asked her why.

"Do you know how your Father's family would rather hack of a hand than go back on their word?" she gazed at me intently. I nodded. When she said 'Father' instead of 'Dad', this was our cue that this was a Major Life lesson we had best memorize. "These people aren't like that. They will take that which is not theirs, break trusts, sully families and lie to your face."

"These women are all bold-faced whores, cock-hungry tramps and sluts who get abortions because they don't know what color the daddy is. The males are either the kind of men who would sleep with those kinds of women, or gutless wonders who won't fight for their rights as boyfriends, brothers, fathers, fiancés and spouses."

"This is a colored thing, right?" I guessed. I wanted to be wrong.

"Got it in one," Mom patted me on the shoulder. "Most White men in town are spineless wimps, Black men jump on whatever pussy they can crack open and women of either color put up with it, even beg for it. I know because I was once like them."

"You and Dad?" I worried. Mom gave a deep, hearty laugh.

"That is not going to be a problem, I promise you. The only man for me is your Father," she smiled. "I had plenty of lovers before your Dad. Since one month after I met him, I've never been with another man, or woman, or even wanted one." More than I wanted to know, but good news none the less.

While we were moving in the small amount of belongs that had followed us from Arkansas, two Kingston cops stopped by to see what we were doing. I had spent my entire life around law enforcement who knew about me and my clan. They were always friends and people we could trust. Kingston PD was a rude awakening we weren't in Alaska anymore.

They were brusque and intimidating. Their real purpose was to remind my family the house was part of the town, even if the back acreage was not. Mom snorted at their pale deception. She asked to see their warrant. They asked if there was some reason they might need one. Mom politely asked them to leave as they were trespassing.

They basked in their defiance. What could Mom really do? If she went all redneck and produced a gun, they'd lock her up - pointing weapons at law enforcement was stupid. Sadly for the cops, familiarity breeds understanding too. Mom gave us the April Fools' signal. Alexander, our oldest triplet, moved the cargo truck so it blocked the officers' view of their patrol car.

While Mom looked peeved, feeding the Black cops sense of empowerment, my youngest triplet Mikhail and I (Vladimir) stripped their car of all easily removable parts; the dash-cam went first. They wanted to loiter around on our property? We let them behave stupidly. We dumped the parts and our work gloves in a packing box and carried it right past them.

We walked straight out the back too. There was a burning barrel which we made prompt use of - for the oily gloves and box. We had spares. Mikhail tended the fire as I picked up a broken cinder block, a heavy-duty trash bag and walked a few hundred yards to the bog near the creek that ran through our property - county land. The bag and contents went into the bog.

I used a branch to make sure it sunk deep before returning. Cleaning off my boots with the outdoor hose completed my destruction of evidence. Ten minutes later a member of the Arkansas Highway Patrol stopped by to see what the problem was. Mom had called them before the sabotage had even begun. She didn't know these two personally, but she knew from earlier visits to her aunt that these two were going to give us 'attitude'.

Calling the Sheriff's Department would only cause a standoff where the police had the upper hand - the whole town jurisdiction thing. By the time the HP arrived, Alexander had left with the truck so when the Highway Patrolman began expressing concern for my Mom's civil rights, the two buck butt-bandits made to leave. That didn't work out well for them.

First came the circus of the discovery they were missing key parts of their vehicle and the lack of an explanation of how that had happened. Mom wouldn't let the town cops search her place. She happily let the Highway Patrolman (who happened to be Black too) look around. We'd used the hose and the burning barrel because moving was nasty, sweaty work - especially in the Arkansas summer heat.

The two policemen blamed us - the triplets. Mom asked them when, in the cops thirty minute trespass, had her 'little angels' stolen the parts, why we would do such a criminal thing, and if they knew where the parts might be. The Highway patrolman was kind of curious about the length of their stay as well.

The cops lied, Mom went inside and brought back the camcorder that had taken in the entire event. They were caught in the lie and all they could claim was the cargo truck had been strategically placed to block a visual to their car ... as we unloaded our truck. Mom even got the Highway Patrolman to co-sign her complaint to the Arkansas State Police Criminal Investigations department.

Mom knew this one wouldn't go anywhere. She had lived with cops long enough to know the value of building up a case file. Alexander was off returning the truck in another county, so he was safe. Mom called him and Dad so they could hook up before Alexander came home. She counted on the cops to be petty and they were.

Alexander was on a motorcycle. When he got pulled, the city cops pulled in front of him. Dad stopped as well. Despite their continuing pressure to make Dad leave, they had no legal grounds to do so - he was Alexander's father, who would be responsible for Alex's ride if they took him into custody. Being an off-duty sheriff's deputy wasn't good enough, yet Dad's point was telling.

Cops always pull up behind a suspect, not ahead of them unless they want to ignore the dash-cam evidence. Dad had pulled up in his Sheriff's vehicle behind Alexander and his dash-cam was recording everything. They let Alexander off with a Warning Ticket and departed giving father and son dirty looks. School was five days off. We checked out the property for two days. The third morning my brothers and I, on motorcycles, decided to explore Kingston.

Having never before confronted such blatant racism, we weren't afraid - we were furious. We hadn't done anything to anybody. We were from Alaskan-Russian stock and had never owned a person ever, as far as we knew. We certainly weren't invested in this whole 'Black slavery - White guilt' issue. Those who gave us attitude about 'White privilege' didn't care for our counter, that saying all White people were alike was equally racist.

As Mom had warned us, Black people couldn't be racist ... just ask them. Mind you, many of the town's Black residents were friendly and helpful. They just weren't friendly enough to defend us from the 'haters'. At the end of the first day, Mikhail nearly got in a fight with five members of the Black post-high school crowd who were fucking with, and sitting on, our bikes. 

Where we came from, that was rude in the extreme. When he appeared to be alone, they were boisterous enough. When Alexander and I stepped out of the pool hall (we'd been made unwelcome there), they backed off from their threatening rhetoric. They still wouldn't leave, or get off our bikes. The three versus five odds didn't deter us.

It was the lack of faith in the local justice system that encouraged Alexander and me to hold Mikhail back. We had an answer to their intransience - crowding. It takes a great deal of cool to have three guys, all over six feet tall and 220 lbs. lean in on you while you are sitting down. When the current bastard was dealt with, we moved to the next. Before the group could figure a way to thwart us, we had retrieved our bikes and were headed home.

The next day, we took Mom's 2012 Shelby V8 Mustang out for a drive. We found the three spots in town the 'White folk' hung out in. We had the Country Western Redneck posse' section of town, pseudo-riche Southerner clique downtown region, and the movie theater (theoretically neutral turf). The saner White middle class had departed for safer pastures - they had established their own municipality a few miles outside of town).

The rednecks welcomed our physicality. We were attempting to fit in until they began talking about all those damn 'niggahs'. Alexander broke down after a bit and asked what a 'niggah' was. It was a 'coon'. Since that was of no help, we asked what a 'coon' was.

The regulars found our naiveté amusing. It took us three minutes of running a verbal obstacle course to piece together that 'niggahs' was their inbred pronunciation of 'niggers' (a term we knew from TV and movies) which was idiot slang for a Black person. We were 'crackahs' - idiot slang for crackers aka White people. Hispanics were 'beeners' ... yeah, right.

We also learned that the favorite activities for teenage rednecks was knocking over mailboxes as they sped down the road, beating up White girls who sucked Black dick and beating up 'niggahs' who touched White girls. My analysis was that these yahoos were long on talk and short on action.

I wasn't a fashion icon yet I could tell these boys could use a bath and some fresh clothes. The girls who hung around this crowd looked about as loyal as salmon during spawning season. At 18, we were hardly experienced, but we weren't desperate virgins either. Girls we had just been introduced to, flirting with us and suggesting later sexual rendezvouses were a definite turn-off because God knows who else they'd been doing it with.

That led us to the riche clique. Among the guys ... half were snobbish closet gays who weren't our thing. The other half were rich straight guys pretending to be rednecks. Rich White girls pretended to be friends with the rich Black girls. They were used to being pampered by their rich White boyfriends while eyeing every Black stud that crossed their path.

Until they realized Samsonov = Fonteneau, they were snide. After that, they tried to convince us we were all (distantly) related. Bloodlines and riches were not the basis for what we called friends so we politely postponed any celebrations.

The Cineplex was a hunting ground for all ages. White women I was pretty sure were married to someone else engaged in sexual liaisons with Blacks; be they teens, business types, or lay-abouts. We had no idea if these were random hook-ups, or affairs and we didn't really care.

Having wasted nine hours of our lives we definitely wanted back, we ended up rendezvousing with Mom and Dad at his boss's - the Sheriff's - place. Whatever else he was, Robert "Big Bob" Carson wasn't an underpaid county employee. His home was nice, expansive, relatively new and sitting on four wonderful acres of land - half woodland/half professionally maintained lawn and gardens. He had an expansive deck with a built-in grill, hot tub and pool out back.

My brothers and I had been under the impression this would be an office outing. It ended up being our two families; the five of us, Big Bob and his daughter, Brandy Crystal Carson. There was no Mamma Carson in sight and a lack of family pictures was noticed by us and our Mom. Dad and Bob (it was tough to call him Big Bob when Dad was bigger than he was) were deep in conversation at the outdoor grill when I arrived.

"Vlad, come out here," my Dad called to me in his easy going manner.

"Brandy!" Bob shouted. I promptly showed up. Dad wasn't a passionate disciplinarian. I didn't hustle out of fear. I hurried out because I wanted my Dad to look good in front of the Sheriff. "Hello Vlad," Big Bob greeted me. "You are a strapping lad - big like your Daddy."

That was a bit odd. I had only heard one person call my Father 'Daddy'. That was my Mom when she was feeling frisky. Mom walked around the house naked when the mood struck her (even when we had guests over) and had few compunctions about hopping into Dad's lap when she wanted attention. That was a common enough occurrence that 'us' boys had learned to sneak out of the room quietly before we were ten.

Only in the last two years had we figured out part of Mom's bizarre sexual behavior was caused by Dad being utterly clueless where women were concerned. He could spot a shoplifter at a glance, or an expired car registration at fifty feet on a moonless night. I had seen a car saleswoman hit on Dad when he was getting his newest pick-up. She did everything but flash her tits and do a striptease...it all went right over Dad's head.

"Brandy! Get your ass down here!" Bob bellowed. She must have been most of the way to us because she materialized five seconds later.

"Yes Daddy," Brandy sounded bored. I was too busy gawking to see Big Bob's reaction to his daughter's insolence.

Brandy was beyond gorgeous (according to my personal standards). She had pale-blonde hair in a ponytail that clearly went past her shoulder blades. Her caramel skin was the beneficiary of countless sessions with a tanning booth. Her eyes were the darkest blue I'd ever seen. Breasts - Jesus, they were large and firm. I could tell that because she had on a pink crop-top and no bra. I could almost see the bottoms of each orb.

Her stomach was muscled with a thin layer of fatty tissue to give her real womanly curves and she had curves to spare. Her waist was narrow and her hips were wide, complimenting her breast size. She had on super-short, cut-off, 'faded-almost-to-White' denim jeans that accentuated her dark skin. Her ass was to die for. A bit big but well-muscled - each a perfect hemisphere.

Her thighs and calves were the product of consistent exercise. Hot, hot, hot. She had on white tennis socks (no shoes) that finished off her delectable image.

"Brandy, this is Vladimir, Senior Deputy Samsonov's son. He's going to be your boyfriend this year," Bob announced. I had a feeling this wasn't open for debate - in his mind.

"What!" Brandy squawked.

"What?" I looked to my Dad.

"What the fuck?" Brandy turned and glared at me. I would have enjoyed her breasts bouncing more if I hadn't been eyeballing my patriarch.

"Dad?" I kept my voice calm. Brandy was fantastic looking, but I didn't want anyone dictating my social life - period. I was eighteen. Besides, Brandy was turning out to have a far less appealing personality - Pretty Princess syndrome.

"Brandy, Vladimir's a nice boy. His father is 'good people'," Bob laid out his case.

How did he know I was a good boy? He was taking a lot on faith.

"I don't want to date this loser," Brandy shouted. 'Loser'? She didn't knew me either.

"If you don't keep Vlad as your boyfriend, then no cheerleading and no dance team," Bob glared at his daughter. This clash of wills made no sense to me.

"No way!" Brandy glanced back at her Dad, protested loudly and stomped her foot on the wooden deck.

"Well then, you need to be home at 3:20 pm every school day," Bob threatened. "And I'll make sure to check up on you." Before I could wonder about Big Bob's abuse of power, I noted the state of the art security system - cyber-nanny.

Brandy turned on me in a furor. Her face was screwed up with anger, her fists were clenched and I was working double-time to not ogle the cleave she enhanced by leaning forward. Man, she hated me for reasons I couldn't fathom. I disgusted her which I didn't get either. Plenty of non-relative women had called me good-looking and handsome.

I had a healthy, well-defined physique, nice thick, blonde hair and the common sense to keep my body and clothes clean and casual. My only downside I'd ever been told about was my size - I was tall for my age and 'cut'. Brandy was 5' 4". I was 6' 2". I had stormy grey eyes, light blonde hair the color of wheat and skin spared the ravages of acne.

"Brandy, I am as uncomfortable and surprised about this as you are," I tried to placate her. "Do you want to talk about it?" She forced herself to appear calm.




WMD Ch. 01



"Fine Victor," she grumbled. Worse than getting my name wrong was the look of viciousness that glimmered in her eyes. "We'll make Daddy happy and be a cookie-cutter couple."

"Dad?" I tried to exit this fiasco with some decorum.

"You'll do fine son," he responded. That wasn't helpful.

"I'll see you Monday morning, Victor," Brandy snidely mocked me before leaving. I turned to follow her thunderous retreat.

Running after her would have felt pathetic so my sedate pursuit meant she put some distance between us. She ran right into Mom, who grabbed her arm.

"I'm warning you right now," Mom hissed. "Don't have sex with any of my sons."

"That won't be a problem," Brandy snorted. I was filth in her mind and I didn't know why.

"You've been warned," Mom got out before Brandy tore herself away and stormed upstairs.

"Mom?" I looked for guidance from my other parental unit.

"Stick close to your brothers when you are at school," Mom cautioned me. From long experience, I knew that was the best explanation I was going to get. The cookout was chilly and it had nothing to do with the weather.

(Davis County Consolidated High School)

To better define the entrenched racial tensions we'd been dropped into; there had not always been a Kingston and a Davis County.

Back in 1977, the first time the Blacks seized the majority in the town council (and they'd never lost it since), they changed the municipality's name from Fonteneau (my Mom's ancestors had built the town so they named it after themselves) to Kingston, in honor of Martin Luther King. The County responded by changing its name from Parsons County to Jefferson Finis Davis County, after the only President of the Southern Confederacy.

For the first time in our history, my brothers and I had separate homerooms. I wasn't sure why, unless the faculty was afraid they couldn't keep track of which triplet was which if we were in the same room. We arrived early so we could scout out the terrain and determine which class was where. When I entered my first class - homeroom, I noticed we all had our names taped to our chairs.

I ended up on the far left side (if you were facing the dry erase board) with a window seat viewing the athletic fields. No sooner had I gotten comfortable when several other students came in. One was a girl with thick curly black hair and huge, round glasses that dominated her face. She was slight of build and had serious under-confidence issues. She headed for the seat right behind me.

"Hello, I'm Vladimir Samsonov," I extended my hand before she got past me. She gave me a limp hand to shake while stammering something. "I am a transfer from Alaska. Are you a regular?" I inquired as I let her hand go. More muttering. I noticed that a) the majority of my class was Black and b) they were shifting the seat signs around to suit their own personal cliques.

One Black jackass noticed me staring at him.

"Whatchya looking out, boy," he snorted with amusement. A few of his buddies joined in deriding me.

"Not much, you moron," I mocked him. "You think the teacher doesn't have a seating list in her possession?"

My resistance appeared to gather their ire. Three Black kids came my way. They were pudgy and stood around 5' 8" to 5' 10".

"You had better watch your mouth, bitch," he postured. He was in my 'space'. I didn't like that so I stood up and looked down on him.

"Bitch?" I mused. The enormity of his mistake was written on his face. I had six inches on him and my mass advantage was pure muscle. I was anything but intimidated. "Does your punk ass wants to be thrown down?" I grinned. Their proximity and stances screamed "amateurs".

"Hey man, we were just playing around," he and his buddies tried to retreat.

"Now put the seating assignments back where they belong. I don't want to waste the teacher's time with your juvenile bullshit," I demand.

"Or what?" one of his comrades felt that the expanding distance allowed him to be mouthy. I took one step and then drove my first- and forefinger into the muscles shielding his heart. Pain and fear caused the dude to recoil and crash into a chair before slipping out and slithering to the floor.

"Where I come from, we respect our elders - that includes teachers. You are going to do it because that's how the teacher wants it," I stated in a clear, even tone. "Are we clear, or do you want some more?" The class was dumbstruck. The three Black kids were especially fearful. "Now pick your ass up and make sure the seating assignments are correct."

I resumed my seat. The Black crowd was muttering, glancing my way angrily. They were also doing as I had told them. That poke was actually something I learned when my Mom had us take a 'Bodyguard' course in Las Vegas last summer ... sometimes ... that woman. It was 'back the fuck up and listen to me before I have to kick your ass' poke. It was painful and didn't raise a welt.

It was meant to get the person's attention without hurting him/her. It wasn't my fault the dumbass fell over.

"Hi, I'm Kaelyne Harlow," the girl, who I had tried to talk to, tapped my shoulder.

"Glad to meet you, Kaelyne," I turned and shook her hand again. Her grip was firmer.

"You are going to get in trouble for that," she looked worried. That expression was enhanced by the size of her glasses.

"How so?" I asked. 

"Vlad, who are you talking to?" Brandy's voice dripped with false affection. I had missed her entrance.

"Kaelyne Harlow," I turned back. Considering the reasonable population of our student body, the importance of race and the size of the White minority, Brandy should have known her.

"Kaelyne, he's my boyfriend this year. My Daddy says so, his Daddy says so and we have to do what our Daddies tell us to do," Brandy demeaned Kaelyne and me with her attitude. "Even if he would want someone like you, he can't have you."

Kaelyne wilted. The teacher's (Ms. Alice Thomas) entered the room cautiously and called for attention. She seemed somewhat surprised people were in their assigned seats. Brandy was on the front row and a Black girl next to her kept up a whispered conversation. The girl, Taliyah Malik, acted like she was Brandy's BFF and their disrespect was annoying.

It was also troubling that the teacher didn't call them to task over it. After we were dismissed to go to our first period classes, Brandy looked over her shoulder and smiled at me.

"Vlad, meet me in the men's locker room at the start of lunch break and I'll give you something special," she said. That was wrong on so many levels.

Worse, most of the Black students found that amusing. Not good, not good, not good. I caught Kaelyne's look of pity my way, but had another difficulty to deal with as I moved down the hall. The three asshats from homeroom had found two larger goons. They were coming at me, the hall crowd was expecting a fight and I was giving them a wolfish grin.

I wasn't seeking Valhalla, or a masochist. I was looking at my two brothers following those five.

"Problem?" I addressed my pursuers.

"Yo bitch, you are about to get jacked," the mouthy guy smirked. 'Bitch' again. Had someone slashed this school's insult budget?

"Problem?" Alexander grinned at me. Two of the guys looked over their shoulder at my twin.

"Problem?" Mikhail was positively feral. More looks of shock. Yeah, we were triplets.

"I'm not sure," I joked. "I think this gang of homosexuals was stalking me." I didn't give a crap about homosexuality.

The only homo I had ever knowingly met was a lesbian IDF (Israel Defense Force) hand to hand combat trainer (Krav Maga). She was one scary lady. I'd asked her what it was like being a lesbian. When it was translated, she asked if I was one of 'those' Christians. I told her I was OCA (Orthodox Church in America). She nodded; clearly I wasn't one of 'those'.

"Do you like girls?" she asked me in broken English.

"Yes," I nodded.

"So do I," she laughed and that was that. The issue at hand wasn't what I thought of homosexuality. Mom had informed us these Blacks found it insulting and an assault on their masculinity.

"Are you chasing my brother's ass?" Mikhail teased the biggest thug.

"Fuck..." he got out. He was trying to push Mikhail back. Schoolyard brawlers shouldn't pick on trained martial artists. In general, it's wrong to pick on people and it is moronically wrong to pick on people you don't know.

Mikhail was the most violently-inclined of us three. This bastard had screwed up. Mikhail channeled his attacker's momentum into the closest set of lockers. That blooded the brute's face.

"I think he tried to grab my pectoral, Bros," Mikhail belittled the guy.

"It looked that way to me," I agreed.

"Let's go to class," Alexander suggested and off we went. The four remaining guys were totally off their game. The first half of school followed that pattern. For some reason, we were supposed to put up with this Black bullshit. Grabbing girls, pushing the wimpy White guys around and beating up the rednecks who fought back (because the rednecks fought stupidly and were always outnumbered by the Black mobs they clashed with).

The Blacks harassing my brothers and I got bigger and had a game plan that involved keeping us apart. At third period I was introduced to a peculiarity I hadn't believed existed outside of Hollywood. Black men calling Black men 'niggers' and 'nigger'. To test the water, I joined in that jocularity and boy, oh boy, did they get pissed.

In this environment, White people couldn't call Black people 'nigger' to their face. The hypocrisy insulted my sense of fair play. I was making my way to the locker room date with Brandy when I got a text from Mikhail. He was going to the Vice Principal's office after a similar run in with the 'nigger' dichotomy.

Four 'homies' attempted to 'correct' my brother's word usage. From the pics he took, they looked pretty badly beaten. I would have gone to hell and back for either brother. That didn't blind me to Mikhail's mean streak. Mom said it was his Varangian ancestors calling to him. Mom was always coming up with that kind of poetic nonsense.

Alex checked in okay - we had code words - thank you Uncle Theo. Outside the entrance to the Men's locker room stood two rather impressive Black gentlemen, around my height but lighter built. They were kind enough to follow me in. That was a good thing because as I opened the door, all kinds of muffled sexual sound assaulted my senses.

For a moment, I loss perspective and, as they say, fools rush in. Two locker rows in, on the benches was an orgy. I had a feeling despite Brandy telling me to come here, it hadn't been to invite me to join. In the split second it took me to realize this wasn't rape going on, the two guys who followed me in grabbed my bicep and elbows on each side.

Brandy was in a somewhat awkward 'on all fours' position. A Black guy was beneath her, fucking her pussy and mauling her tits. Another was feeding his super-sausage-sized dick down her throat, face-fucking her, with his hands holding her head. It turned out to be rather stumpy, but I didn't learn that until later. There was a third Black guy with a truly impressive phallus pounding away violently at her butthole.

"You must be Vlad," snorted the hugenormous Black guy. "I just want you to know that Brandy is my slut. Now," he gave Brandy several hard thrusts, "you are going to be a good cracker-boy, or you are going to be a dead cracker-boy, you understand me?"

"Answer Darius," one of my two captors growled at me. Darius had to be the talker.

"What exactly do you want?" I asked cautiously.

"She's my fuck-slave. You are going to lie to her Daddy about what's going on, and you get by just fine. When I tell you to take her out on a date so I can fuck her - you take her on a fucking date. That's what you do to stay safe - you and your brothers."

Brandy was trying to say something but the guy forcing his dick down her gullet wasn't letting her. Darius signaled the 'brutha' to ease up. Brandy gasped for air and choked down the precum and saliva.

"Darius is my Man, Vlad. You play nice and no one gets in trouble," she smiled at me.

Maybe she was trying to look seductive, or triumphant, but all she looked to me was tawdry and used. She was about to say something else, but the guy getting his cock sucked didn't care. He shoved it past her lips though I doubted it reached much of her throat his rod went. That ended her participation in the 'conversation'.

I took several seconds to take in the larger scene. There were five girls here in some state of undress of their cheerleader outfits. Two girls were Black. They were getting the solo treatment. The two other White girls and Brandy were getting slammed. One big fella shot off over one girl's face and another took his place before she could even clear her eyes.

If there was love in this school, it wasn't in the Men's locker room at that moment. Brandy's BFF looked at the 'air tight' blonde with distain, sharing in some private joke with her confederates of color. Darius dumped a load in Brandy's ass. That set her off into orgasm. How sweet was that?

Before another guy took Darius' spot targeting Brandy's posterior, I could see that it was a gaping cavern filled with white goop. I was strongly convinced this wasn't Brandy's first, or tenth gangbang, or bout of anal sex. In a way it was a relief. Brandy was no longer my problem.

"You going to be a good boy?" Darius came up and grabbed my chin.

I would give him this much, he was fast. He blocked my knee, which would have been decisive if that hadn't been my distraction. My foot came down and stomped on the instep of the guy to my right. His hold weakened. While I broke free from the guy on my right, I pivoted behind the guy on my left. I let Darius' counterstrike hit that bozo.

Now I was free and here was my chance to not be Mikhail. I ran for it. There were twenty Black guys down there. I wasn't sure what level of threat the fucked cheerleaders would be, but I didn't need the hassle. The guys looked to be members of the football team (I guessed correctly). That meant strength training and endurance.

Run to someone in authority? Who could I trust? The Principal was this fat, old Black joker. The Vice Principal was some heavy-set White chick who was currently reaming out my brother. Fleeing school? Nah, I had to come back at some point so running away was delaying the inevitable. I decided that a crowded spot was my best bet so I ran for the cafeteria.

As soon as I made it, another conundrum revealed itself. Where to sit? My calculations were interrupted by someone calling my name. It was Kaelyne. She was at a table with a nerdy otaku chick and an overweight Goth girl.

"Are you okay?" was the first rush of words out of her mouth when I sat down.

"Sure," I nodded.

"Did you go..." the nerdy girl with the crimson haired pixie cut prodded. That pretty much reinforced what I suspected and feared.

"Yes. I went, I saw and I ran away," I grinned. "So, who is Darius?"

"Darius Pope pretty much runs this school," Pixie-cut babbled. "He's serious bad news. The Principal and the Coach worship the ground he walks on. He and the football team pretty much do what they like." I looked to Kaelyne for some help.

"Oh, this is Vicky - Victoria (pixie cut) and this is Leona (Goth girl)," she made introductions.

I seemed to need no introductions. Further confusion was curtailed by Alexander joining us. Another round of greetings came and went then it was down to brass tacks - relaying my locker room revelations and threats. Alex and I both knew we had no alternative. No one at school liked us, the biggest, both literally and figuratively, cult on campus was going to stomp us flat if we so much as squeaked and they wanted us to lie to Dad.

Knuckling under to tyranny and lawlessness wasn't the Samsonov way. We had a frozen stiff great-grandfather to prove it. Beyond some impressive genetics and a bloodline dedicated to bringing forth the light of justice into the darkness where inequities poisoned the soul, we had our Mom's crazy-quilt of skills to fall back on. Honestly, if all he had wanted was to date/slam-fuck Brandy, I'd have walked away.

Sadly for Darius, Alexander and I saw the look of fear in Kaelyne's and Victoria's faces (Leona kept her bangs over her eyes) when they talked about the school's biggest cock-monster. Worse, this malignant, weird sickness seemed to infect both the school and the town. If you were a sexy 'townie' White girl, Black guys fucked you whether or not your parents approved, or if you had a boyfriend.

Some cliques of Black girls were just as bad. In either case, the affair never ended well for the White students. If the girl got pregnant, it was either a back room abortion, or an unwed mother with no Black guy taking responsibility. White boys who screwed Black girls were living on borrowed time. When her father, brother, and/or boyfriend found out, the guy got a serious beating.

The teacher situation was just as malignant. Those who wouldn't willingly pull up their skirts and drop those panties were blackmailed to do so unwillingly. The Principal knew and didn't care. He was part of the problem, using trumped up demerits to force sex on girls, White and Black. He did the same to some of the mothers and teachers too. Coach was in the same sleazy league.

The Vice Principal? She was married to this tax professional in Kingston yet she was basically the Coach's cum dump. Occasionally he pimped her fat ass out for his star players to fuck as well. Alexander, Mikhail and I were alone in this...maybe Mom. I could tell that Kaelyne and Victoria wanted to do 'something' vaguely like resisting, but we couldn't afford it if they folded up under the pressure.

At the end of lunch break, we got a text from Mikhail. First off, he had recorded the VP's little put down session including her ignoring the reality that Mikhail would never pick a fight with four guys he had never met before. For better, or worse, the Principal had intervened and suggested that Mom showed up for a visit - just the two of them - after school.

I was kind enough to ask Mikhail if he'd warned the Principal about the can of whoop-ass he was about to open. He said he had and that the Principal gave him this shit-eating grin. We called Mom. She was aware of the setup and was coming 'equipped', whatever that meant. Darius caught up with us as lunch was ending.

He had five of his biggest plus Brandy and Taliyah. Darius had an arm around Brandy's shoulder. She looked to be as happy as a well-fucked clam could be.

"That was very stupid of you," he glared. It was a common intimidation technique to not use a person's name. It dehumanizes them. Me? I could care less.

"I'm not a fan of men putting their hands on me in locker rooms, Darius," I regarded him coolly. "If this is about Brandy; I don't want her. If this is about her Dad; that's not my problem. If she wants to lie to her Dad about who she's seeing, that's on her. Quite frankly, I don't want any part of this scummy mess."

"You shouldn't have hit my boys," Darius grinned wickedly. "You are going to have to pay for that."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I shrugged. "Do you want to handle this like men, or should I expect more of your nigger ambush bullshit?"

"I'll get to you in due time," Darius smirked. The 'N' word angered his crowd.

Darius let it slide this time. I guessed the 'men' angle was out. That was fine by me. Ambushing worked both ways. "Brandy, why don't you give your 'boyfriend' a big wet kiss," he directed her toward me.

"Ffhh," I scoffed. "I wouldn't let my dog lick her mouth. I'm definitely not kissing that latrine."

Brandy looked incensed. Darius was pissed, but not over Brandy's tiff. No, I wasn't afraid of him and I wasn't going to back down. That meant he'd have to find a way to break me and my brothers. His problem was he was smart enough to know we weren't the normal redneck dumbasses. You couldn't get at us through our sisters, aunt, or cousins; only our Mom (yeah, right).




WMD Ch. 01



Our Dad was the law and the school was outside the town limits. That meant the Sheriff and the Senior Deputy could answer calls to the school on criminal matters. Darius let us go. The day continued and I got plenty of black faces snickering at me over my perceived misfortune. The three of us waved to Mom as we drove home and she went in to see the Principal.

I noticed she had on her weighted, fingerless gloves. To the uninitiated, they looked like racing gloves. They weren't. Those gloves were the disguised equivalent of brass knuckles. We went home, did our homework and prepared dinner. Mom and Dad would be late getting home tonight.

There was the law enforcement inquiry, gathering evidence and the time it took for the ambulance to come and go. Crime scene stuff. We were used to it.

(That First Week)

I started out the next morning admiring the boarding on the window to the Principal's second story office. The ground and bushes beneath it were pretty trampled up too. That was a good way to start the day. In homeroom, I was talking to Kaelyne again when Princess Brandy announced her entrance and her 'power' over me.

"Hey Vlad," she greeted me with sugary sweetness. She was working out ways to get me for the whole 'dog not kissing her mouth' thing.

"Hey Skank," I grinned at her. Her face froze. Taliyah pulled up short.

"What did you say?" Brandy hissed.

"Skank. Are you hard of hearing?" I mused.

"I'm Darius' girl, asshole. You had better accept that right now."

"Girl? Sure. I imagine that Darius and seven other guys fucking you in all three holes until you are oozing sperm is your ideal dream date," I chortled.

Having the scope of her depravity openly discussed really pissed her off.

"You are jealous," she sneered. There was a hint of desperation in her voice. I chuckled.

"That's clearly delusional thinking," I laughed. "You look hot, just not enough for me to want to wash my dick in ten other guys' cum. You act like a skank so that is how I will address you, Skank."

She was infuriated. The start of homeroom ended the matter for the moment. The rest of the day was spent with a hundred slights and pin pricks. Darius' crowd would get in jabs from behind as we walked the halls, or projectiles tossed at us during class. We were fine with that. There was no fighting back. The 'niggers' didn't get it.

We were scoping out the faces of our enemies and finding blind spots in the school's security camera system. The truth about what happened to the Principal had also gotten out. Mom had already informed us of the series of events, including the spy camera video she took of the entire proceedings.

She'd kept up the 'dunce housewife' act even after he whipped out his cock and forced her to suck it - because he was a 'big Black stud' - his words recorded for posterity. Finally, he put his hand down her blouse to give her bountiful bosom a good squeeze while shoving his dick past her loudly protesting lips. That was all the excuse Mom needed. She portrayed the frantic housewife really well. We, her family, knew better.

She was hamming it up to allay any criminal charges. His pleas for mercy were ignored. It was hard to make out what he was saying after she bashed out half his teeth with his 'African-American Educator of the Year' award. She'd ruptured his scrotum, stabbed his exposed penis repeatedly with a letter opener and cracked half a dozen vertebrae and a dozen ribs.

We were pretty sure she'd broken his arms in multiple places, ground up both his hands and shattered his left wrist. She snapped his right leg in two, all the while screaming 'Don't touch me! Don't touch me!' Her last bit of sadism was to toss him out his second story window. The first try, he bounced back, but we were pretty sure he had a concussion.

The second try cracked the safety glass. The third time was the charm and down that rapist rat-bastard fell into a modest sized holly bush (ouch!). Mom completed the act by pretending to sob as she crawled into a corner of the office while she dialed 9-1-1. As she gleefully went over the play-by-play for us once home, we knew she was cool about the entire incident, even the groping and forced blowjob.

It was Davis County jurisdiction so they were in charge of the investigation. That didn't stop Kingston from sticking their noses in. The Mayor was all about the Principal being a pillar of the community, a Black leader and a church-going man. Then the School's video evidence came out. The Principle had been so full of himself and his immunity, he recorded his attempted violation of my Mom.

Did the Negro community accept the obvious? No. This was a racist White lady, from a racist family, framing a good Black man though how she accomplished that was unclear to most of us and undefined by the Black leadership. They claimed that the Principal had yet to give his side of the story. That would take a while. The man had lost most of his teeth and had his jaw wired shut.

Both eardrums were ruptured and he could barely see out of his right eye. His left was swollen shut. His nose was pancaked. There was even a rumor that his penis was so badly mauled they had to cut most of it off (which turned out to be true). Big Bob, some deputies (all White) and some Highway Patrol (both colors) raided the Principal's house and found a stockpile of tapes and DVDs depicting previous sexual encounters at school going back almost two decades.

Apparently that was nothing more than extra proof of the hateful, bigoted White man framing a decent, hard-working Black man. That any group could be so blinded by their own bigotry that they would embrace such a blatant fiction was appalling to me. At school, the Blacks were indignant and the Whites kept a low profile, as if they'd done something wrong.

The one grey cloud in this monsoon of misery was basketball tryouts were on Thursday after school. We picked up consent forms from a furious coach that slathered on the kind of negativity we had come to expect from him and his sick breed. White boys can't jump. White boys can't dunk. White boys can score inside the 'paint'...yep. No racism there (insert maniacal laughter).

The Assistant Athletic Director coached the basketball team. He was a short, thin, hyperactive White man and, as we were to learn, a race-hater. He hated White people, or at least White athlete wannabes. More on him later. There were two key developments on my front. First, Alexander informed us he had a side project he couldn't talk about yet.

The second thing was that Darius demanded, by way of Brandy, that I took Brandy to an 'after victory' celebration out by the lake Friday night. From 9 p.m. to whenever, I was to sit back and let Brandy be used like a drunk runaway at an outlaw biker rally. Personally, I didn't see how that could be an enjoyable sexual experience.

Brandy believed this made her Darius' lady. She certainly embraced the bukkake, sperm baths eagerly. I still chose to ridicule her constantly because I could tell she was having trouble rationalizing her sexual treatment with any style of romance, or affection. She hadn't been honest with me so I was now tormenting her and using her shame to stab at Darius.

We could see it in his eyes whenever we mocked his crowd. Darius was plotting out his revenge. His problem was we didn't care what he called us, we didn't care about the teachers he turned against us and we had no spies in our camp, or friends to turn against us. We accepted our social life, for the time being, would be limited to our home.

Mom hinted she had a 'plan' in the offing and proved the internet had rendered local belligerence impudent. All our supplies came by parcel delivery from out of town. We wired up a new home security system, engaging a Little Rock private security service instead of putting any faith in the local, Black-run firm. We signed a waiver for the self-install.

There were times when we could totally believe that Mom and Uncle Theo were twins. Technically, as the twin born last, Mom was the youngest of the five children. For unspoken reasons, Theo ended up at a military academy for delinquents at fifteen. She only publically saw him three times since then. Once when she broke into his school (and got caught), at his academy graduation and lastly when he finished basic training for the Army.

Yet they remained close in ways only multiple birth kids could understand despite the time and distance. It also meant Mom came equipped with (cough) healthy doses of paranoia and vindictiveness. Mom reminded us our battle wasn't limited to the school. We were fighting a secularist religion with a fanatic core.

Had Black Americans been fucked over by White America? Yep. That didn't end 150 years ago either. There was Jim Crow legislation after Reconstruction as well as uninvestigated rapes, beatings, whippings, lynching and even being burned alive. All horrors visited on the Black Race by the White Man.

Yet it was White men who passed the Voting Rights Act in 1965. Yes they did, but getting Black people to accept that there were White people who stood with them as equals was impossible. Since 1965, had there been Black councilmen/women, mayors, state legislators, governors, Congressmen/women, Supreme Court Justices and, dare we say - a PRESIDENT?

Why yes. Where there Blacks in every aspect of professional life? Damn right there were. Where there Black millionaires? Thousands of them, and even an African-American self-made Billionaire. So exactly what were White Americans supposed to feel guilty about? Crap our parents and grandparents did? Great-grandparents?

When was the cut-off date for being held accountable for actions you had no part in? There were poor Black people. There were poor White people and poor Latinos for that matter. As far as my Mom was concerned, racism was racism and it had no exceptions for color, creed, and orientation coming, or going.

She'd given the Blacks of Kingston their chance to make things right - to end the cycle of hate. They had declined to rein in their own, so she felt no obligation for her, or her sons, to give obedience to their injustice.

There was a pile of evidence that the Principal had done wrong, still Kingston treated him like a hero and martyr. Fuck that noise. Mom didn't want to start some wacked-out guerilla war. She only wanted to punish those responsible for this fucked up situation. Target #1 - Darius and by default, Darius' family. That, in turn, was Darius' biggest problem.

He didn't realize he was hunting people more than capable of hunting the hunters. We knew he and his supporters were coming for our family, they had tons of advantages and little fear of the four of us (we wouldn't involve Dad since he was enforcement and a straight arrow). We weren't aiming for a body count. Our goal was humiliation and breaking their wills to resist.

With that accomplished, we could install some truly impartial justice and social order. My family was aided in this quest by the clarity of our enemy's weaknesses. They were proud of their Big Black Cocks and their lack of restraint in using them on whomever they pleased. Basing their Black masculinity on a single bit of mythology rendered them painfully vulnerable to us.

They hadn't chosen to base their dominion on anything but their cock & balls. Solidarity, economic output and healthy competitiveness had been tossed aside. The Black community in Kingston accepted Black male predation as the natural course of things. It was revenge for the White Master/Black Slave Girl depredations that happened during Slavery. Did they humble White men by fucking their moms, sisters, wives and daughters? Yeah.

That disregard for social bonds and femininity meant Black women were under the same dominion, though they lied to themselves about it and the Black men comforted them in that lie. Black Mammas let their boys run around like dogs then were aghast when their husbands did the same thing. Big Black Cocks were eroding the basis for trust in this town.

If BBC wanted a woman, he stuck the dick in and that woman became his cock-slave. Had the woman started out resisting? That didn't matter because now they needed that dick to get her through the week. That was the score. The truth Mom laid out was confirmed by a week of school. How were we going to defeat the BBC menace?

Mom just smiled and said she had a 'Secret Weapon' to go along with her battle plan. We took that assurance into Thursday's basketball team tryouts. We rocked. We had the talent and the skills. That didn't matter to the Assistant Coach. He had six Black players returning from last year's team.

There was one White guy whose Mom was throwing gobs of new equipment the team's way, so he was on board. That left five spots to fill the twelve man roster. Up against us was one ambitious White junior, seven Black juniors and one Black female senior. Apparently she'd been denied a spot on last year's team based on gender alone and was still pissed about it.

The Ass Coach immediately set his sights on five of the Black juniors that fit the profile - Black top (that's outdoor courts that used asphalt) experience, tall, lanky and a willingness to dunk on a moment's notice. Our scrimmages were stupid and biased. The Black players could elbow, trip and punch us without repercussions. Mikhail almost got booted for threatening to toss the next blatant fouler into the bleachers.

We caught a break when Ass Coach got called away with a phone call which he couldn't understand because his 'chosen ones' wouldn't shut up and even attempt to be quietly considerate. I had an idea to create our own scrimmage team, but I had a problem. The two Black guys and one White guy not getting on the team sucked. I needed two of the other Black players.

I chose an alliance. I went to the angry, dispirited female player and made my offer. We would challenge the current team and, if we beat them, we made a pact that all of us made the team, or none of us did. I could see her weighing screwing me over. The whole school knew Darius was gunning for me and my brothers. She shook my hand. We needed a fifth.

The girl, Kaja Woodrow, went over to her cousin, one of the players from last year's team. He didn't want to join us. He had a guaranteed spot and he could blow it by joining his crazy female cousin and the three most hated White boys in school. Kaja threatened to bring their grandmother into this mess. I think that threat plus a strong sense of fair play changed his mind.

We were good. Shaquille, Kaja's cousin, knew it. Everyone knew it. He was shorter than us, around 5' 10". His ball-handling skills were phenomenal, he was a fairly accurate shooter and would happily pass the ball if someone was in a better court possession instead of taking a risky shot.

Passing the ball was key and not an art form shared by the rest of his current teammates. With Shaquille on our side, we put our proposal before the Ass Coach. He denied us, but we were ready for that. Our team took to physically and verbally mocking and denigrating the manhood of the current roster. They took our bait.

After a quick warm-up, we made our move. Everything worked in our favor. High School courts aren't black top. The courts are wider and there is no turning around at mid-court. You added to that our opponents were ball-hogs and suffered from terminal 'dunk-itis'. Mikhail made the 'paint' his bailiwick (bally-wick?).

Dunk attempt after dunk attempt were brutally rejected by him. By their logic, my brothers and I would also keep the ball for ourselves. We passed like crazy. This was doubly painful for them because the White boys and Kaja could nail a jump shot from 18 ~ 20 feet out - no problem. Shaquille would race behind their screen, catch a pass on the leap and dunk unopposed.

Our squad was making their squad and the Ass Coach look like idiots. The All-Black squad didn't regroup and create a new plan. No. We were belittling them. First came the fouls. When that wasn't enough to stop us from outscoring them, they brought out on the egregious fouls and still the Ass Coach did nothing.

Finally, after the fifteenth time Kaja humiliated the player supposed to be guarding her with a quick feint-step and a basket, he ran her over. He didn't shove her. He threw a powerful shoulder into her chest and followed up by stepping on her stomach. He smiled. His buddies laughed. Mikhail walked over and broke his jaw.

Remember, Mikhail was a big, strong, skilled fighter and had a temper. That message hadn't filtered through the mind of the All-Black squad. They rushed him. Their center took a piston kick to the gut (he had pathetic reflexes) and his closest buddy succumbed to a leg sweep. The Ass Coach went apoplectic. Shaquille rallied to Mikhail and Kaja while we went to our gym bags.

Out came the two recording devices (it is the freaking Information Age, you morons). Thanks to the internet, we uploaded the files and then we took the damning evidence to Ass Coach. He and most of his team were in deep shit. Their blatant fouls counted as assault in the real world. Mikhail wasn't in trouble. The dumbass who attacked Kaja was standing over the woman he assaulted when my brother intervened.

We also promised to show this video to every school on our schedule for the year as well as any and every athletic authority we could think of. Grudgingly he offered we three Samsonovs a place on the roster. We insisted on all five of our squad. He insisted he would never put a girl on the team.

I put my arm around his scrawny shoulders and forcefully walked him away for a private chat. I reminded him keeping Kaja off the team solely because she was female was discrimination. My brothers didn't like discrimination. My Mom REALLY didn't like discrimination.

Did he want my Mom to come to school and explain to him how much she disliked it? Kaja was on the team. Ass Coach announced the new roster and promptly uplifted our spirits by declaring this season would be a disaster because we had a girl and four White guys on the team. The next day, she and Shaquille received ten kinds of trouble from their racial compatriots.

Mikhail gave Kaja a 'First Alert' bracelet and cautioned her to wear it at all times. It was a testimonial to how screwed up this environment was she put it on without question. Shaquille ended up eating lunch with us as well. The razzing was bad enough. The cracks his former friends were making about Kaja made him want to commit violence on their persons.

Shaquille found out what comradery was all about as classes let out that first Friday afternoon. Eight big bucks ambushed him as he prepared to walk home - he lived about a mile way. Recall what I said about identifying our tormentors? We figured out who the 'shot-callers' were so when they started texting their plan around, the Samsonovs began taking counter-measures.

Darius was the Capo. Since we had a 'home' game tonight, he couldn't attend to this errand personally, nor could his football-playing associates. He had plenty of non-jock lieutenants to command. In turn, those bozos had the rank and file big and average-sized thugs to follow his orders. This wasn't an army. It was a loose vigilante herd.

They also were kind enough to joke about their target when they thought we weren't around. We had to keep out of sight until the eight made a move on Shaquille. We hadn't warned our 'buddy' out of concern he might not want to keep his role as bait. We waited for the shoving to end and the desperate grappling to begin before intervening.

We had to film them committing their crime to make our crime non-criminal, if you can understand that reasoning. We should have thanked Darius for giving us his eight best 'B-grade' boys to annihilate. Seven of them went down super-quick. The eighth bolted. We couldn't maintain our legal smoke screen if we ran him down.




WMD Ch. 01



Instead, we settled for stomping the fuck out of the seven we had. Keeping them on their feet was the key. Kicking a man when he's down looks suspect. Shaquille joined in the 'fun'. Our victims pleaded, cursed, threatened and cried like little babies yet we still beat them raw and bloody.

Their superior numbers and initiating the conflict pretty much allowed us to do anything we wanted to them, short of murder. Was this a White racist beat-down? You could look at it that way except for the first minute of the video showed eight Black kids surrounding and shoving around another Black kid.

Once we vacated the trashing, I leveled with Shaquille about our actions - we had known what was coming his way, used him to give us an excuse to kick ass ... and he was pissed with us. After a few minutes, he shook his head, snorted and agreed while we were total bastards, there had been no other way for that encounter to play out that left the four of us in a better position.

Those seven guys would be in no shape to bother him or Kaja for a week, or two, and the message of the pummeling those seven went through would reverberate throughout the school.

I touched base with Big Bob, who was attending the game, so that Darius and Brandy could see me being a 'good boy' thus foolishly playing my part in their deceptive scheme. That was living proof the worst deceptions was self-deceptions. Come on now, my brothers and I had beat up seven of Darius' flunkies and now they thought I was cowed enough to be led like a calf to the slaughter?

(Football Follies)

There was only one unexpected event on that nightmare first date. The score of 42-3 made sense. Darius was an epic running-back with all the natural talent and ambition to make the NFL. The rest of the team was pretty good as well and more than enough to manhandle the mixed race team opposing them.

The coach running up the score was par for the course as far as unsportsmanlike conduct went. By now, nil human compassion was what we expected from that crowd. They behaved like brutal thugs. The other team was suitably battered, broken and sullen. Every underhanded blow, discourtesy and disrespect our team exhibited reinforced my sense of my brothers' righteousness.

A tractor-trailer sized 'Humble Pie' was coming down the pipeline for those assholes and it was so well deserved. 'Our' team even had the gall to molest the other team's cheerleaders before they could exit the arena. A few dust-ups occurred when fathers and boyfriends of the attacked ladies tried to save their womenfolk. Their coach appealed to our coach.

Coach's look said it all; 'to the victors go the spoils'. Big Bob's deputies moved in. It took all of five seconds to see whose side the Black deputies were on. They gleefully aided the monsters struggling with the White men whose sole crime was wanting to get their women out with their virtues intact. All of these shenanigans were anticipated by Mom and us.

Three members of the defense managed to steal one terrified White cheerleader away from her side of the field. The boyfriend who tried to get to her was held back by a Black deputy. They would have been home-free except for one thing - my Dad's height and instincts. He spotted the trouble and headed those three off. First they blustered. Dad was unfazed.

Next they decided two would block Dad while the third dragged the girl away. They didn't know Dad. The second they put hands on him, out came his collapsible baton. He swung it up and into one antagonists' elbow. Trust me - that hurts. Of greater importance - no one saw it coming. Dad got in a blow to the other guy before he knew why the first guy was cursing in pain.

Then Dad fell on the third football player. My favorite lawman was finished talking. He shoved a thumb into the bastard's left eye - trust me; that hurts too. I can also assure you it is horribly distracting. Dad corralled the panicked girl and brought her back to her boyfriend - and the deputy who was arresting him. The White boy was freaking out and the Black officer was gloating.

I had never been the recipient of what came next, but I'd heard Dad's family talk about it and witnessed it a few times from a distance - like tonight. Dad, as Senior Deputy, asked the 'plain' Deputy to release the boy. The Deputy said something disrespectful to Dad. My Father grabbed the man's right wrist faster than a rattlesnake. I could almost feel those wrist bones grinding painfully together.

Dad, like all the men in our family, was big and bulky - not fat. We packed muscle mass upon muscle mass and I knew that Black man wasn't getting his wrist back until Dad decided to release him. Dad leaned in and whispered a few things to the Deputy. The Black man spat back then nearly crumpled over in pain as my Father ratcheted up the pressure, until the crying man acquiesced.

The girl and her boyfriend beat their feet out of there. Dad escorted the rebellious Deputy to a quiet corner to have a chat. That shithead immediately went for the racist angle - White cop picking on rambunctious Black youths. Dad replied that if he ever saw anything like what he saw that night again, he wasn't going to report the deputy, he was going to arrest him on the spot for facilitating an attempted sexual assault.

The Deputy made one more stab at the racist smear, proving he had never bother to get to know my Father. Dad's comeback was simple. If the deputy called him a racist one more time, he would bring the Black officer up on State and Federal Hate Crime statutes - creating a racial charged work environment.

The Fed would be a 'swing and a miss'. It was the 'Blacks can't be racist' bullshit. The State of Arkansas on the other hand...Dad, Big Bob and the White Deputies would gladly grease the wheels of justice. Nik Samsonov had a flawless 23 year record enforcement. All of that was of no surprise.

Dad had never come out and said there was a racial divide in the Sheriff's office, but it was clear to us that to a man, the Black Deputies kept the Black power structure in town abreast of all the goings on at the county law enforcement level. Until our arrival, the Black elite had their eyes set on litigating themselves into the office of Sheriff.

A man of Dad's background and caliber sort of curtailed those hopes and dreams. This was another reason for them to support Darius and his efforts were to make Dad look bad and even shame him into leaving. Fat chance of that happening. No, none of that was surprising to me. What caught me somewhat off-guard was...

"Why do you hate me?" Brandy asked me out of the blue. We were driving to the lake party site when she finally opened up.

"You've never given me a reason to do anything but hate you," I replied after some thought.

"That's not so," she protested. My first thought was to laugh in her face.

"Did it ever occur to you I didn't want to be in a relationship with you either? Did it occur to you that you could have been honest about this and I would have understood? Did you consider my feelings at all before you fed me into Darius' world?" I proffered up my questions.

"You wanted to date me," she rebutted. "I saw the way you looked at me on the deck last Sunday."

"Nope," I shook my head. "I thought you looked 'hot'. I never wanted to date you. Had my mind ever planned to wander that way, your attitude shut that down pretty quick."

Oh really?" she remained confident in her sex appeal. "If you behave tonight, I'll give you a blowjob when you drop me off at home. I'm really good."

"No thanks," I shrugged. "However Darius and his crowd rate your talent at fellatio is not something I consider reliable. If I want a blowjob, I'll get a pro whom I'm sure is disease-free."

"You are being such a bastard," she pouted angrily. I didn't care. "You are just jealous."

"And you are little more than three nameless orifices in a gangbang," I snorted. "If that's what floats your boat; good for you. I prefer to date a girl who doesn't need an orgy to feel erotic and desirable. My problem isn't with how you express your sexuality, Brandy."

"You deceived me and you don't regret it in the slightest. That's my problem with you."

We rode for a while in silence. Brandy couldn't let the matter rest until I acknowledged she was right...and she was the foxy babe I could never have because my melanin levels weren't high enough.

"You wouldn't have understood Darius and me," she spouted with certainty.

"Why?"

"What? Why what?" she asked.

"Why would you assume I wouldn't understand you wanting to date the star running back?" I explained.

"He's Black," she stated.

"So? I don't care about Black and White. Hell, I have cousins who are Native Alaskans - that's Indians to you people," I responded. "The few people of color I did know before coming here were my neighbors and nice people."

"Liar," she smirked. "White men always get upset when strong, Black men take their women."

"You are not my woman, so there was never anything to take. Until you and Darius decided to fuck with me and my brothers, we didn't care," I answered.

"We are not your limp-wristed rich boys, or your rednecks. You both exhibited a painful level of prejudice so here we are."

"Well...you can watch the party but you can't come down," she tried a different angle. "Darius may send you on a beer-run later."

"That ain't going to happen," I chortled.

"You had better do what he says," she threatened. I gave another amused snort. I drove us to the bottom of the parking lot near the lakeshore. Brandy got out, tried to give me a salacious look. I yawned. There were two other pseudo-boyfriends on the scene and a passel of empty cars most likely belonging to the football crowd.

I had taken into account that my family's resistance and Dad's actions had earned me some serious retribution in their minds. That was all part of our strategy. I cut off my headlights then backed my car toward the road. I waited for ten seconds then Alexander appeared at the passenger door of the Mustang.

"Hey Vlad," he teased me. "How are things going on your 'date'?"

"As expected," I chuckled. I put on the emergency brake and popped the trunk. Five minutes later, Alexander had taken Mom's car and split. I was in a dark maroon ski-mask, the same colored hoody and exercise pants (I already had on Black shoes and socks), night vision goggles and video camera with a really excellent audio system that would allow me to negate things like cricket noises.

Dark red and maroon were better than black, or grey, in hiding at night. I was virtually invisible in the darkness. After checking the wireless hook-up, I found my pre-scouted spot to watch and record the festivities. Thirty-two Black football players, ten Black girls and seventeen White girls filled the stage.

First came the drinking and pawing. Then came the rough-housing and the screams of the few White girls who were only now realizing they weren't on a 'date' in the classic sense. Then came the orgy. For the Black athletes who didn't bring dates, it didn't matter.

Every White girl had three holes - take your pick. Beers, whisky, Red Bulls and Viagra where the diet of choice. The last pleas for mercy were smothered so that only the moaning, groaning and the slapping of hands on flesh and flesh on flesh remained.

After an hour, two of the White chicks were fucked up emotionally and mentally. Their obvious distress didn't elicited concern from anyone else in that crowd. They had been turned into BBCock-slaves. The football players gleefully took pictures of their victims and partners in various sex acts.

Even for the girls who didn't want to participate, this was a license to shame. After the latest rounds of ejaculations, Darius gathered up some of his niggers and sent them to the parking lot...to find me already departed (my car not being there). The two other White boys hadn't a clue where I had gone.

That was their misfortune. They were dragged back down to the lake for Darius to interrogate. Their so-called girlfriends taunted them and added to their degradation. Since BBC's are never homosexually-inclined ... the team decided to ass-rape those two saps (yeah - right). Did I pity them?

A little, but barring retardation, what did they expect the likely outcome of events to be? Now those two could bask in their home-erotic fantasies while convincing themselves they weren't really gay. Darius and crew didn't view White people as human beings - Whites were subhuman, so the Blacks could do anything to them because sub-humans didn't deserve respect, or have rights.

I filmed it all and I wasn't alone in my voyeurism. Undoubtedly, this was blackmail for Darius to use in the future. He also decided to up his game in dealing with me. A Black Deputy Sheriff showed up and began calling my name and looking for me, shining his flashlight around.

He was pretending to be helpful, encouraging me to come out, so he could take me home. For fifteen minutes I switched my attention between his futile and false efforts and the (non-)rapes going on at the lakeshore camping grounds.

The Deputy eventually made his way down to Darius's area. The two chatted a bit, deciding I really had abandoned Brandy, then the cop partook in some of the party favors, ending his sexcapade with Brandy swallowing his load. He even declared it was partial vengeance against Big Bob (the niggahs laughed) and my Dad (since Brandy was theoretically my date).

The festivities died down after the second run at an orgy yet Darius was unsatisfied. First came the throwing of all the ladies into the cool lake waters despite their pleading screams. Then they tossed the two devastated White boys in. After some splashing around and some serious begging and pleading through chattering teeth, they let them out of the water so they could dry off on whatever was handy.

The wasted girlfriends of the two boys poured their false dates into their cars and drove away to the chorus of slights and general mockery. Darius had Brandy give me a call (actually Alexander) and requested I (he) come pick her up. I (he) said he would be there in forty-five (lie).

Darius' trap was simple but effective. He and four of his linemen would be waiting in a sedan parked at the far, upper-hand corner of the parking lot out of sight. Brandy would wait down on one of the bench-tables in the camping ground for me to arrive. Whether I honked my horn, or got out for her, Darius's team planned to roll down on me, block my car and deliver some well-deserved and overly-delayed vengeance.

Once again, Darius was behind in the game. We knew his resources and mindset - he believed he could get away with anything, he would always win and he could intimidate anyone he chose to. From my perspective, Alexander hadn't walked the nearly ten miles from school to get here. I secured my gear, put on my helmet, uncovered my motorcycle and rolled it quietly over to Brandy.

"Here," I surprised her as I stepped out of the darkness to hand her a motorcycle helmet. "Put this on."

"Vlad," she squeaked. "I thought you had left me." She was also fiddling with her phone.

"If you make that call, I'll leave you here," I threatened.

"Leave me here and my Daddy will make you pay," she countered.

"Brandy, try to think for once," I taunted her. "If I didn't leave, what have I been doing all night?" I let that thought sit there, but she wasn't approaching understanding. "I filmed this entire party from start to finish. I'm not the one in serious trouble."

Her fingers hesitantly stopped playing with the phone. I pushed the helmet her way again. She set her phone aside to put it on, allowing me to snatch it up. She hadn't called Darius yet. I pocketed the device then cut it off once she could no longer see it.

"Hey, give me that back," Brandy insisted.

"You didn't call Darius so I'm not going to toss it into the lake," I informed her.

"I'll return it to you when I drop you off," I added. That seemed to mollify her - that and the belief I'd be running into Darius soon. No such luck for her. Mom had spent some of her youth around this place and there were several hiking/biking tracks that also led out of the park the lake was situated in.

I lied to Brandy, telling her I had to pick up one more thing. That allowed me to push my motorbike far enough away to put a copse of bushes between me and Darius.

"Get on," I told her as I mounted and started the engine. She hesitated so I started rolling away. I let her jump on and off we went. Brandy held on tight.

Some of her death grip was from the dangerous route I was taking to exit this place. I knew part of it was also the combination of fears that she'd disappointed Darius and I would tell - show - her dad what had happened tonight. I was counting on Option A. I wouldn't tell Big Bob the truth until it suited us Samsonovs. What Brandy suffered for her numerous lies wasn't my concern.

"Here we are," I told her when I stopped in her driveway. She got off, clearly sore and worn out from her duties as a sperm trough. She gave me the helmet back then held out her hand.

"Oh yeah - phone," I nodded. I hurled it across her yard. "You can find it in the morning. After all, I would hate to run across any of your friends on the way home."

"Bastard," she snarled. I could see the clever spark in her eyes. "I still owe you a blowjob. You held up your end of the bargain." She would have succeeded in looking incredibly sexy except she'd already leaked fluids and semen from her over-used holes all over the back of my seat and I had the vivid memories of all the guys who had already made her swallow a gallon of cum.

"No thanks," I shook my head. "One of us needs to keep their self-respect and it sure isn't going to be you. Night-night," and off I went. My call woke up Big Bob. I let him know I'd dropped off his daughter on his doorstep. I didn't want her to find her phone quite yet. 'Us' triplets had already scouted out an overgrown old timber trail I could use to skirt the Sheriff's speed trap and the blind turn in the road the Kingston cops always used.

By my estimation, as I walked up my back steps, Darius was just figuring out I'd missed my forty-five minute arrival time and had called Brandy...and received no response because her phone was turned off in a darkened yard. He'd go looking around the camp site on the off chance her phone battery had run out of juice. No Brandy. As planned, I called Mom telling her I was home safe and Darius was probably hideously pissed at the moment.

She told me she'd be home in a few minutes. She had a few things she needed to clean up first. It wasn't until later Mom clued us into her part of the plan. Darius' older brother had been a drug conduit in the county and Brandy's dad put him away for seven years. That was why Darius was going after Brandy in such a bad way.

Worse for Big Bob, his wife (a taller, more lush, mature model of Brandy) ran off with a Black Senior Sheriff's Deputy - the man Dad replaced. Apparently he'd been porking the old lady behind Bob's back then been caught joking about it. Brandy had been dating Darius and Big Bob had her break it off - so they were sneaking around behind his back as well.

If underhanded was how Darius wanted to play it, so be it. The damage had already been dealt by his older brother. Mom got in touch with Uncle Theo. Uncle Theo knew all kinds of disreputable people and not just drug cartel members, mercenaries, arms dealers and other assorted killers. He also knew information brokers.

It didn't take too much money, or effort, on Theo's part, to let the DEA know that Darius' Mom was involved in her elder son's illegal enterprise. First, she went through Darius' parent's trash finding containers that could be used to house cocaine that had his mom and dad's fingerprints all over them.




WMD Ch. 02



(WMD = Winter Men's Dilemma; My own irreverent spin on the BBC mythology)

*Editing magic performed by KJ24 and Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*All the sexual participant in this story are eighteen, or older*

*This story is NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!*

* Vlad ~ "You actually expect me to believe my Father, Brothers and I have the genetic capability to addict every woman we have sex with to our schlongs? That's nuts!"

Mom ~ "As opposed to thinking the color, length and girth of a phallus makes any woman lose all sense of loyalty, morality and decorum so she can become a man's sex sleeve - whore - bitch - property? Yes, I do." *

*Right off the bat, be warned that I'm using the 'N' words - nigger, niggah, my niggah, plus homie, thug, coon, buck, spook, spade and whatever other crude racial slurs that come to mind. Due to reader feedback, I've attempted to tone things down this chapter. This story plays to both Black and White stereotypes. BBC stand for Big Black Cock, not the British Broadcasting system*

*Lastly, this story is rather flippant with the entire concept of sexual assault. Those who have read my previous tales know this is not my attitude at all. For the sake of this genre, I had to grapple with the concept of forcing a woman and the idea 'making them love that dick'*

*A Swing, a Miss and a Hit - that pretty much sums it up*

(Retribution)

Sunday was a family outing to Big Bob's for Sunday football. This time, seven other Sheriff's Deputies (with their families) were there as well. Even the scumbag Deputy who had face-fucked Brandy Friday night was there with his wife and three year old daughter. He had this big ole shit-eating grin on his face when his eyes lit on Big Bob's pride and joy.

It didn't take Clarence Peterson - that was the mother-fucker's name - long to corner Brandy in a bathroom. The hunters, not realizing they were the hunted, was a running epidemic in this burgh. I made triple sure I didn't fall into any sort of complacency.

"Hey Brandy," he sneered at my 'supposed girlfriend' as she tried to stand up from the toilet seat. "I need a little relief."

"I don't think..." she mumbled.

"Bitch, I'm not asking you to think," he grabbed her hair. "I want you ..."

"What?" I stepped into the room, closing the door behind us. "Dummy, you want what?"

"If you know what is good for you, you will walk the fuck out of here," he challenged me.

"Good idea," I snorted. "Why don't I go out to the party, trick that pretty wife of yours into a dark room and face-fuck her? How does that sound, nigger?" Yes, I was a White boy calling a Black cop 'nigger'. I had chosen my culturally bankrupt words carefully with the intent to incite. 

He stormed my way ready to put me in my place. He was equipped with law enforcement level basic hand-to-hand training. I'd been play-fighting that for half my life. I couldn't openly bruise him. An arm bar fit the bill for keeping in place while I landed punch after punch into his crotch until he was halfway to his knees and crying for his Mamma.

"Now before you decide to turn this misunderstanding into an incident," I whispered my threat into his ear. "You might want to consider Big Bob's new security system and how one of my Brothers is getting a record of what you just pulled (a lie)." 

"You came into another man's house and tried to rape his womenfolk," I cautioned him. "How would you like it if someone treated your wife that way?" I could see the complete lack of empathy on his part.

"From here on out, you don't touch Brandy," I continued. 

"As far as I'm concerned, the way you treat any woman is your permission slip to do the same thing to your wife. We might even make you watch, you cock-less piece of shit. Keep it sheathed around anyone but your wife. Got it?"

"Fuck off you bastard," he spat. Thank the Almighty for that BBC arrogance. 

I twisted his trapped arm up then planted two steel toed boot kicks into his already tenderized scrotum. He almost passed out from the pain.

"Vlad?" Brandy worried.

"It is okay Brandy," I smiled at her. "Go out and stand by your Daddy. I'll be with you soon enough."

Out she went, leaving me with the asshat.

"Boy," he hissed through his agony. "You are going to get ..."

"Cool enough," I shrugged. I leveraged him over to the toilet and shoved his face into the commode. Had he not interrupted Brandy, she would have had time to flush.

I let him thrash about a good deal before bringing his face out of the water. He immediately got combative so back in he went. It took four trips to the fetid pool for him to realize he was on the wrong end of police brutality.

"Just so we are clear, Clarence," I lectured him. 

"All I want is some respect and fair treatment. You've crossed Big Bob, my Dad and now me," I reminded him. "In my opinion we've almost balanced accounts. Act like a married man and like someone who swore an oath to serve and protect - EVERYONE. You cross the line again, you can bet we Samsonovs will find out about it."

"We will assume the incident is you serving notice that you've vacated the human race and you will be dealt with like the piece of trash you've become. We are not the fucking KKK, Butt-Monkey. I don't think any man is less than me until he proves it. You have a family - your dick stays at home. You have a daughter. Do you want her growing up happy only to get cornered in a bathroom by some asshole who thinks he has the right to violate her?"

I let him go and stood back.

"We are done unless you fuck up again. Make an issue of this and I'll make sure your wife is gobbling Big Bob's cock before Thanksgiving. Clean yourself up and enjoy the party, Clarence," I sneered. I left him there, kneeling on the floor before the porcelain altar.

He had hate in his eyes ... and he was scared too. Having broken both the law and the covenant of marriage, he'd painted himself into a corner. Things were going according to plan. Kick the BBCs in their masculinity. How we would defeat the sexual addiction angle was still a mystery to me.

I was looking for both Brandy and Clarence's wife. Mom had gotten to the latter first and was already insinuating herself into the woman's confidence. She was a born con artist. I found Brandy alone by the pool, rather shaken up. She gave a slight jolt when I wrapped my arms around her from behind.

"Oh, it is you," she sighed with relief. 

"You are my girlfriend, Brandy. You don't need to be afraid of me," I soothed her. 'That's right Brandy' was the message. 'You can have a boyfriend who fucks you silly yet doesn't treat you like crap and scares you.' Darius didn't have to be an abusive bastard. He chose to be. 

He choose to make Brandy the pawn in his rage against Whites in general and Sheriff Carson in particular. 'Black Rage'? That was an excuse for lashing out at the weak, defenseless, innocent and uninformed. Worse, it was insulting - to Blacks. Why would Black people be less emotionally mature than any other human beings? Just saying the phrase made me feel racist. 

By that reasoning, any person of any race could be excused for going nuts because their lives had been harsh enough. Funny; if a White man had spontaneous rage issues he would be committed to a mental health facility, or sent to prison, and then forced to take medicine and submit to therapy. 

Child abuse, torment, broken homes, poverty, drug abuse and persecution were all excuses used by serial killers too. I preferred to see Black people as people and accountable to that standard of civility I held myself to. In the same manner, they were worthy of all the respect I showed my Father as long as they didn't prove otherwise. The only person I could stop from being racist was me. The rest had to be held to their own standards - period - end of statement.

"Thanks Vlad," she pushed into me.

"You know," I rested my jaw on the top of her head. "Standing by the pool reminds me that I've never seen you in a bikini." She gave me a weak elbow to the ribs.

"You've seen me naked," she teased me. She twisted enough so she could look up at my face. "Have you forgotten that already?"

"Not likely," I bent my body so that I could kiss the tip of her nose. That caught her off guard yet she quickly rewarded me with a butt wiggle. "I take that back," I looked away. "I've completely forgotten about it. Maybe you could show me what I've been missing sometime soon." I got another butt wiggle.

"You are impossible," she remarked loudly. 

In unison we looked toward the grill in time to see Big Bob sending a satisfied smile our way.

"Parents," I protested to her softly. "Can't I just hold you without your Daddy making a big deal about it?" I had to head off her anger with her Dad from poisoning the gains I'd been making.

"Oh God, yes," she sighed. There was a long break in the conversation. 

"Are you going to give me trouble about still seeing Darius?" she questioned me. 

"I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not happy about it," I hugged her tighter. "But, I'm a man of my word and I said I wouldn't stand in your way. Don't ask me not to hate him."

"Why would you hate him?" Brandy prodded me. I knew what she wanted.

"I'm going to dislike any man who touches you, Brandy," I nuzzled her hair. "White, Black, Yellow, Brown, Green, or Purple - I don't care. I know I can make you happier than Darius can. I'm man enough to trust you to figure that out on your own." Another long pause. 

Big Bob was calling everyone over for their grilled meat of choice.

"What if he won't let me go?" she posed.

"Then I'll kick his ass and beat the crap out of every goon he puts between us," I pledged. Brandy wanted a brutal competition as confirmation of her perceived self-worth.

I took that sense of victory into Monday morning. I felt confident. I also had boarded up the proverbial windows and evacuated the low-lying areas because a hurricane was coming my way. There was no more confusion on Darius' part. I was the enemy he had to crush no matter what. My family would have to go down as well.

It wasn't the smart move, but it was really his only move because calling for a truce wasn't in him. A real man would have looked at the possible costs versus the intended gains. Instead, a mad delusion gripped the opposition - Darius didn't give a damn about any of his supporters. His BBC culture encouraged him to think of every woman as a token to be taken from any man.

It was insane for anyone to think they were safe from that toxin. What possible loyalties could have sprung from encouraging such insidious selfishness? It wasn't IF you would fuck a certain girl; it was WHEN. Was a girl with a guy? She wouldn't always be under his protection and then it was BBC time. Would the guy get pissed his girl was being boinked?

So? Girls were walking, talking sex orifices and that guy had just proved the girl who you thought was yours was really nothing but another cock-hungry slut. Very few women were truly respected anymore and those who thought they were safe had their heads hopelessly lost in the clouds. Wouldn't color save them? Why? 

The community had already given Black men a pass on predatory behavior toward Whites, forgetting they were people too. Exercising their BBCs gave them all the White pussy, lips and ass they could want. 'Want' being the key word. Black girls were just as sexually enticing as White girls. The boys were already skilled at violating their victims, willing, or unwilling. 

The same lies the BBCs told White girls work on Black girls too - because the truth they are nothing but hash-marks was too bitter a pill to swallow. Given his looks, natural talent and the thoughtless adoration of his community, Darius' blinding egotism was a given. The rest of the parasitical crowd had vested too much in their favored Son to restrain him now.

That attitude greatly simplified the Samsonov stratagem to under-cut his latest efforts before they even got off the ground. He had racked up four more blackmail victims Friday night. Mom was taking that leverage away once school was in session by taking the evidence to the parents of the students in question. Painful? Yes. 

It was cauterizing the damage before Darius' crowd could turn it into a long festering wound. Our position was aided by the fact we didn't require the White families to do anything except to bring their kids into the loop. No active resistance was required - yet. All that was still coming. For me, it was another day in homeroom, talking with Kaelyne about her weekend.

"Hey Vlad," Brandy's greeting had a bit more 'oomph' this morning. Taliyah was in her normal, tag-along spot with that accustomed slight smirk on her face. She was behind the times.

"Hey yourself, Brandy," I smiled my 'GF's way. "You look really nice today." Brandy had been a bit unsure about the state of our détente. Taliyah and Kaelyne were floored by my propriety.

"Thanks, Vlad," Brandy gave me a sultry twirl of her skirt before she sat down. She twisted to say something else, but my attention had already refocused on Kaelyne. I wasn't going to surrender my friendship with Kaelyne for Brandy. 

"What where you saying about that female Peshmerga fighting against ISIS?" I picked up our conversation.

Yep, petite Kaelyne was a gun-nut with a secret ambition to fight the patriarchal rapists of Mother Earth. She was enchanted by my tales of the Alaskan Wilderness and I found her ... well, kinda neat. Kaelyne kept stammering her response while looking over my shoulder at Brandy. I followed that path back.

"Brandy, is there a problem?" I regarded her somewhat coldly.

"I wanted to talk to you about the Basketball team," she kept shooting intimidation Kaelyne's way. The basketball angle was to remind Kaelyne I was a jock. Cheerleaders and jocks ran in the same social circles. Jocks and geeks didn't.

The local twist on that quaint social custom was all the other athlete/jocks were Black, except for the token - 'Mamma paid my way onto the team' White boy ... and now the Samsonov triplets. We three had no illusions about being welcomed by the Black athletic establishment. No matter what Brandy chose to believe, cheerleaders of both races were little more than easily accessible fuck-toys.

My brothers had already razzed me about putting my dick into Brandy. None of us wanted anything to do with the rest of the cheerleader corps, though Mom insisted we consider the opportunity if it arose. That and give them the disinfectant treatment before penetrating any of their whore holes - and, due to the BBC preference to deep-throat and tea-bag their bitches, that included French kissing.

"I'll catch up with you at lunch," I suggested. We knew that was Darius-time. There was nothing like creating a scheduling conflict with the onset of the new week and our new relationship.

"The Squad (cheerleading squad) has a practice meeting at lunch," Brandy reminded me...that she and the girls were required as cock-sluts during lunch.

"How about we meet up at the end of lunch then?" I offered.

"Okay," she turned her somewhat brittle smile to me. "As co-Captain of the Cheer Squad, I need to coordinate activities with all the athletic teams." We had three school teams: football, basketball, and Track & Field. The third group didn't get Brandy's support.

"He's not likely to be selected team captain," Taliyah pointed out. That was unfair. Very likely true, but still bigoted and biased.

"I'm hoping it will be Kaja," I responded. "She's a hell of threat plus she'd got a good head for the game."

"She's a girl," all three girls around me spouted. Ms. Alice Thomas, our homeroom teacher, called things to order. We got the regular announcements out of the way and one 'gem'. The School Board had hired a new 'interim' Principal. He was - surprise, surprise - Black (I was actually wrong about that - more later). This time, he was a Canadian Black man.

The morning was much the same as last week; more sneak attacks, slights and racial slurs. My brothers and I knew how the teachers would treat us. We had broken them down into three groups: the Racists (yeah, I know, Black people CAN'T be racists), the Cock-suckers (their BBC masters were pissed with us, so those teachers were pissed with us), and the Doomed (victims of blackmail forced to torment us).

The Doomed were the nicest. Their heart wasn't in their efforts to annoy us. All they did was make the minimally required dubious efforts to single us out for maltreatment. The first two groups came at us with some real hatred. Those 'educators' were openly disdainful. We didn't mind. Samsonovs respected authority until it stopped being fair and impartial.

On the way to lunch, Mikhail and I began our school counter-offensive. As two punks tailed him into a security camera blind spot, I cut off the lights so they could be highlighted by external illumination. Then the beat down began. We grappled them with one hand and landed body-blow after body-blow with the other. We'd split up and slipped back into the school crowd before anyone was the wiser.

"Vlad?" Taliyah yanked on my arm in the hall during the 5th/6th period break. When I turned around, "Vlad." She came close to me and pulled me into a door sill. "Vlad...umm...why don't you go by the infirmary?"

"What? Please don't think I like, or trust you, Taliyah. I see how you look at Brandy and that ain't love," I chided the Black cheerleader.

"I don't like you either, Vlad," she glared, "but ... Brandy ... she pisses me off at times, but we've been close since seventh grade and ... go see for yourself." With that, she took off. To go, or not to go; that was the dilemma. Taliyah's actions were unusual and out of character for the player she thought she was. I went with the bizarre and the belief that even bad people can be humane.

I found Brandy on the nurse's couch looking pretty damn miserable. She'd been crying and appeared distraught. The nurse was sitting in the corner, talking amiably on her cell phone.

"Brandy?"

"What are you doing here?" the nurse, Tasha Cooke, tried to block me.

Had she been paying attention to her sole patient she might have been effective at that.

"Brandy, I'm just stopping by to say 'hey'," I said as I hovered in front of her.

"Vlad," she sniffled. "Nothing is wrong." Clear lie. "I'll be okay."

"Now would you get out, boy?" Nurse Cooke grabbed my left bicep.

"I'm her boyfriend," I shot a furious look Cooke's way. "I'm going to call her Father and see what he says about Brandy and your treatment of her."

"Vlad, don't," Brandy grabbed my hand that was reaching for my phone.

"Boyfriend," Nurse Cooke snidely muttered under her breath.

"That's right," my voice took on a tiger's rumble. "I'm the one here when she is in distress, not some cock-sucking loser who things he owns her." Our eyes clashed. "Make sure you tell Darius I said that too," I taunted her.

"White boy, you don't know what's going on," Tasha taunted right back.

"Tasha Cooke - older sister of Nefrititi Cooke who was recently fired by my Mom for being niggardly," I fiercely grinned. "Mother of three. Never married. It was relayed to me you are more of a bitch than your sister, so no man wants to hang around after he's done his business. What exactly don't I understand, Ms. Cooke?" I wasn't calling her a 'bitch'. 

That would have been bad. No, I was staying I had heard someone called her a 'bitch' and was relaying that information.

"Ah," she stuttered. "Have you been stalking me?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "The 4-1-1 on you wasn't even difficult to obtain.

"Now give us some space before I start to think you don't like me," I added. She didn't like me. I didn't care. I wanted to talk to Brandy without this cunt standing over my shoulder. Tasha backed off, then mumbled something about going out for a smoke. With her gone, I hugged Brandy and kissed her on the top of her blonde head.




WMD Ch. 02



"I have to get to class," I told her. I kissed the top of her head again which resulted in Brandy pressing her head into my shoulder and her breasts against my torso. "I'll catch up with you later." I separated from her. I wasn't going to rip her about letting Darius get away with whatever happened. That wasn't an argument I could win.

Twenty minutes later the Samsonov triplets were sitting in the Vice Principal's office, listening to her bitching us out. She was going to roast our chestnuts on an open-fire, BBQ our ham hocks and exile us from school.

"For what?" I inquired.

"You beat up two nice, young, upstanding African-American men," she growled.

"Evidence would be nice," I grinned.

"They saw you three bastards attacking them. That's all the proof I need," the VP glared. Somehow, she sensed a trap.

"So, these two unnamed guys claim the three of us beat them up...where? When?" I kept at her.

"That doesn't matter, you little bastards. They made the complaint and I believe them. You are looking at a one week suspension and you are being booted off the basketball team," she turned viciously victorious. We three kept smiling.

"Wait, are you recording this conversation?" she gasped. Three phones came up, we all hit 'upload' and showed her the screens. "Give me those," she snapped. We handed her the phones - the 'burner' phones dedicated to this round. Mom was a prophetess for some Dark Pantheon - no doubt. "How do you delete those files?" she mumbled as she played with the buttons.

"That would require a password which I doubt any of us recall right now," Alexander informed her. The VP, Mrs. Janice Russell, looked ready to erupt. "I will make it easy on you, Ms. Russell. Ms. Blanchard can verify I was with her from 12:35 to 1:10 when you summoned me here. Before that, all three of us were in the cafeteria. Your cameras will prove that."

"That means, B...," Mikhail snarled, "The three of us couldn't have beat up anyone since before home room. That means those whiny, little natty-haired bastards lied to you on an official complaint."

"Yes, my brothers and I can't thank you and your 'boys' enough for getting overly-greedy," I added.

Vice Principal Russell's mouth gaped like that of a drowning fish.

"None of us are going to sweat about these false accusation," I smirked. "We three are going to drop hints to everyone who counts you were super-nice to us and let us off with a 'stern warning'. I'm sure so very many of your fans will be pleased with you giving the three most hated White boys in school a pass."

"I did no such thing," she protested. I could see that creeping fear in her eyes.

"Well, unless you want to be brought before the State Board of Education, you are letting us walk," I pointed out. 

"You have nothing," she shook her head.

"We have had several run-ins with you, we have you setting up our Mother by threatening Mikhail and we have you facilitating the Principal's attack," I reminded her.

"I did no such thing," she protested.

"Nice try. Either you are an idiot to not know what has been going on under your nose the past ten years as you handed female student after female student and concerned mother after concerned mother over to our former Principal, or you were in cahoots. Either way, you are toast," I countered.

"You can't tie me to that," she gobbled with some real concern.

"Like us, you are White, Ms. Russell," I snorted with amusement. "The Black community will rally around that fat bastard. Who has your back? If you think it is the Coach, you clearly haven't noticed how he looks at the female student body." The 'Ms.' was on purpose; an indicator she wasn't being much of a wife in our eyes.

"Hell, they might even pin his extracurricular activities - you manipulating a man with a sexual addiction he had no control over - on you because you pretty much made him a victim too," Alexander piled it on. "There goes any hope of a teaching job anywhere." 

"Your husband will lose all his Black clients ... and most of the White ones too," Mikhail grinned like a shark.

"No...no, that wouldn't happen," she muttered.

"You are having a rather indiscreet affair with the Coach although you are a married woman. Basically, both of you are liars, deceivers and abuse your authority," I continued. "If the Coach really wanted you, you'd be his wife by now ... but nah ... he's stringing you along."

"Yeah, that's loyalty for you," Alexander tagged in. "Except you aren't loyal to your husband, so why would any man be loyal to you?"

"Shut ... Shut Up!" she screamed. "Get out ..." Out we went.

"We beat that because of one little lie," Mikhail chortled. "One lie - had they stuck with the facts - stupid bastards." 

As we headed down the main corridor, classes let out for sixth period. As we passed Darius and some of his hoodlums, we laughingly chorused, 

"LOSER," at him in front of a whole crowd of students. Darius' face darkened with rage. We stumped him then by doing the unexpected - we ran for it.

The pattern for many basketball practices were set. The Ass Coach split up our alliance every chance he got - because we repudiated and ridiculed his style of coaching. It was hard for any of our group to score in individual scrimmages when our 'team mates' would never give us the ball. The guy whose jaw was broken by Mikhail was sidelined.

Every time one of the Black athletes popped Kaja, Mikhail tied a knot on a piece of cord and waved it in the direction of the offender. Curiosity finally got to one of the other guys.

"You practicing to be a Boy Scout?" he scoffed.

"Nah. When I get angry, I tie a knot. When the time comes, I'll remember what each knot was for and untie it ... if you get my drift," Mikhail didn't even bother to look up.

"You think that makes you scary, needle-dick?" he took a step toward my brother.

"I don't give a damn what you think," Mikhail said as he stood. "What I do know is that, unlike you and your buddies, I possess a personal code of Honor. I'm worthy of respect because of that. In turn, I show respect to those who show they've earned it ... people like Kaja. Your sorry ass? ... You don't matter," Mikhail's temper was simmering.

"I'm not afraid of you," the Black player postured.

"That's your mistake," Mikhail chuckled. "There is a world full of the graves of dumb-fucks who didn't know when to be afraid. By no means consider yourself unique."

"Yo, Raymond," Shaquille came over, "didn't Mik here break up your cousin last week?"

"He hasn't paid for that either," Raymond grumbled. We chuckled over that. Later, as we showered, we let Shaquille know Mikhail was never called 'Mik'. We avoided letting the rest of the team know because we knew they'd have been childish and annoying. 

Kaja caught up with us as we made our way out to our motorbikes.

"Mikhail," she groused. "I don't want you fighting my battles for me."

"Tough," Mikhail shrugged.

"Kaja, Mikhail isn't pissed because they are picking on a girl. He's pissed because they are picking on a friend," I clarified.

Neither response was what she expected.

"Oh ... Hey, I found something else out when I went to talk to our coach," she brightened up slightly. She showed us a few pictures on her phone. Raymond was standing up, feeding his BBC down our Ass Coach's throat, while the White man was on his knees before him.

Shaquille appeared to be embarrassed. Kaja was expecting some level of outrage, disgust, or confusion. Sadly, she was giving us old news. This was SOP for the cult of the BBC.

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Kaja inquired.

"Save it," I grinned. "Our time will come."

(WTF! And Killing Dreams)

[Yes, this is a parody of another author who shall remain Name-X-less]

Tuesday, we didn't have home room, we had Assembly. As it turned out, we didn't have a first, or second period either. And for that privilege, we had the Black-dominated School Board to thank. Fate put we three troublemakers and Darius only a few feet apart on the front row. Someone had decided the Cheer Squad would look cute sitting on the floor in front of us.

I had corralled Kaelyne and Victoria. Leona was up in the bleachers with her boyfriend. Kaja, Shaquille and Shaquille's GF, Monique, migrated our way as well. The Vice Principal did her thing then introduced our interim Principal. He was sternly erect and projected pride. That first impression worried me. I shouldn't have bothered. How to describe this train wreck?

He was a six foot tall, somewhat blocky-shaped, overweight and bespectacled Black man named Dr. Pierre O'Rourke Jean-Georges He had been born in Massachusetts, educated in the US and Canada and was here to heal the racial and social rifts in our community. Those sounded like lofty goals and I found myself wishing him luck. Then his rambling began. 

Why would we, his students, care what colleges he'd attended? Most of us had never heard of any of them before. Did we care what sports his schools excelled in? No. They were not NCAA Division I schools, so their championships were rather meaningless to us. Lacrosse was different from Field Hockey how? Tennis? Crew? Equestrian? 

About fifteen sports in, it dawned on us he wasn't talking about sports he'd actually participated in ... unless there was some freaky Yankee custom that allowed men to play on female teams that is. The revelation of this information was mixed. A few, like Victoria, were enchanted by this unforeseen turn of events, other were confused and the majority were zoning out, or falling asleep. 

Did he notice he'd deviated from any sort of coherent message? 

Noooo ... he was just getting started. Thirty minutes into this pointless exposition of information that had no relevance for anyone still listening, even I was about to nod off. That's when he dropped 'The Bomb'. He abruptly jumped back to his earlier pledge to heal the rifts and unite the community.

"See," he slammed down his hand on the podium, waking the sleepers, "I know about being White (huh?), I know about being Black (um ... okay?) and I know what it is like to be on the outside looking in." He was sounding pretty passionate. "I am not a Black man, though some see me that way. No, I am a bi-racial man. I am a bisexual man." 

"I know what it is like to face the patriarchal backlash fostered by ignorant and frightened Black and White American communities, trapped in their bigotry and race hatred."

I caught Darius looking my way with suspicion. I gave him an exaggerated shrug and shook my head in the negative. This wasn't a Samsonov ploy.

"My Father was NOT a Black man. He was Haitian - a free Black man who defeated the White colonial slave masters," he espoused. "My mother was a proud, White woman. She was Boston Irish and proud of her Irish legacy as they were oppressed by the British in the same way the Haitians were oppressed by the French. I was born into a world of hatred and misunderstanding." 

"To the Black community, I had a White mother. To the White community, I had a Black father," he preached. How this evolved into him being a good principal wasn't obvious to us. Then something occurred to me. Here was a man who 'looked' very (dark) Black, who had a quite extensive education and who had undoubtedly written many published works. And this man loved pontificating his ideas to the masses. 

I was now betting when the School Board offered him the job, none of them had actually read any of his published articles. He was big on talking about the 'fight against racism'. That was as far as any of them read into his background. Like all good citizens of Kingston, racism only mean White racism. They weren't racist. Besides how could a Black man become famous fighting Black racism?

And then came the 'bi-sexual' part of this calamity. Understand, my family's tolerant view of sexuality was not widely shared. Also understand that ass-fucking and face-fucking White boys didn't make a Black man gay, or even bi-sexual - just ask them.  

That's correct; there was no homosexuality on that side of the color divide. Rich White boys were all considered gays, closet-gays, or 'in denial'. Being a redneck gave you the extra options of being into bestiality and incest. Lesbianism is what White girls did to one another to excite their Black stud-muffins before the main course. Of course Black girls could contribute, but that was on the 'down low'.

"Now, I know Black men feel threatened by true sexuality. Victims of centuries of indoctrination by a hypocritical Christian religion and a repressive African male stereotype. White men are just as afraid of their desire for Black male companionship," he spouted. "I want you to know, my White and Black brothers and sisters, you can be free."

"My parents opened that road for me at birth," he declared. "They fought back against the White establishment and refused to have me circumcised. Yes, my cock is a proud ten inches of uncircumcised, bi-racial manhood." I was almost grateful that he got back to the regularly scheduled spewing forth of his own bigotry. 

"In my long quest for sexual fulfillment, I found the perfect mate - a bi-racial, bi-sexual woman who appreciates my confidence and my embrace of liberal feminist principles," he smiled at his 'captive' audience. "I am here to guide you all on that journey. Shed the shackles of the past and free your minds to the natural desires of brotherhood and toleration."

Had he ended it there, he might have made a lasting point. He didn't, instead going on for another twenty minutes about 'being sexually liberated' and the freedom gained by embracing non-Judeo-Christian religious ideals. Way past the point of coherency, the good doctor slammed down his hand on the podium one last time and eagerly declared he was going to make us all better than we ever were before. 

Abruptly, he stopped talking. It took everyone a few seconds to realize he was awaiting his ovation. Not only had less than ten people paid attention throughout this whole affair, he was ranting at the wrong target audience. This crowd was 99% Christian with 80% being part of regular congregations that embraced homophobia with a passion. 

Liberalism wasn't about the difference between democrats and republicans. It was about turning all the racial dirty dealings in this town into openly accepted practices. That meant Black women could actually hang out with White men! Oh no! Feminism meant ... the bitches would unionize and make the playas pay for their treats. 

'Repressive African male stereotype' was the college educated way of saying Big Black Cockery. Expunging 'cock-slavery' was the last thing these Black men wanted. What saved us from a riot then and there was the plethora of $10 dollar words he'd used.

Ms. Blanchard and the Ass coach stood up and started clapping first. With varying degrees of reluctance, the rest of the faculty joined in. Maybe a third of the student body made some noise before the silence resumed. A highly flustered VP Russell quickly stepped up and dismissed the assembly to what little time remained of our second period classes. 

We'd wasted 90 minutes listening to our new 'Academic Captain's' message. The scope of Principal Jean-Georges' failure meant our normal feud was put on the back burner as the real message was translated and digested by the brainer classmates, who then let it trickle down to the rest of the student body. Anti-Christian bias, endorsing homosexual behavior, female empowerment ... none of that was going to fly.

Darius's majority considered themselves Christians by default, and the 'Samsonov' faction practiced our faith in private and with an on-line congregation back in Alaska. The locally strong, rural Christian foundation was a huge stumbling block. Had Jean-Georges not clearly been a wack-job, our small group might have supported his policies of sexual tolerance and female equality.

Not only did we have no faith in his leadership, his declarations weren't educational - they were condescending. He was claiming to teach tolerance while being intolerant. Circumcision had what to do with any part of this? It was a widely accepted medical procedure. His long list of academic accomplishments included a PhD in Modern Spiritual Revisionism (whatever that was) from Ottawa. He was in no way, shape, or form an MD. 

More controversy boiled up around his wife. She had missed his diatribe, but showed up at his office afterwards and several students had snapped pictures of her. The two main questions were A) what was that Nubian Queen doing with this mentally maladjusted martinet? And, B) how bloody expensive was her get-up - clothes, jewelry, footwear, make-up and hair style?

Victoria's caption evoked its own firestorm - 'Guess who wears the strap-on in that family?' Kaja had to explain to my brothers and me what the problem was. See, in this pocket dimension, Black men fucked other people in the ass; they didn't get fucked - 'yes' to pitching; 'no' to catching. It hadn't occurred to the BBCs to think that way ... until Victoria kicked open the door.

A woman bending a Black man over and pounding away at his butthole was right up there with Satanism in their book. It got better. Mikhail added fuel to the fire by circulating the text 'I bet she makes him do Ass-to-Mouth too'. He might as well dropped fire ants on the BBCs. The threat of some serious role-reversal was stirring them up.

I thought they were worrying about nothing. Our new Principal had alienated everybody with his long-winded speech. He'd basically accused the student body, the faculty, and the community they all came from, of being brutish, backwoods bigots and announced he, and he alone, would be our Messiah. Truthful, or not, that wasn't the way to win minds and influence people.

After lunch, the old tempo reasserted itself. The Blacks came after us, the teachers created their own set of mischief for us and we convinced Kaelyne and Victoria to spike the football teams Gatorade with a powerful diarrheic which had the unexpected side effect of Brandy and Taliyah waiting by Mom's Mustang when Kaja, Shaquille and the three Samsonovs exited basketball practice.

We had expected the Men's locker room to be smelling pretty foul by the time Ass Coach dismissed us and it was. The whole team decided to forgo showering due to the stench.

"Brandy, Taliyah," I greeted the two, "What's going on?" Brandy shot me the strangest look. She was obviously unhappy, but I couldn't tell why.

"Hi Vlad, Alex, Mikhail, Shaquille and Kaja," Taliyah greeted the group. 

"Vlad, we were wondering if you could give us a ride home," Brandy requested. Where the girls' cars had been parked remained unclear. I looked over the crowd. Since it looked safe and the weather was fair, Shaquille would be walking home. We'd already promised to give Kaja a ride so things would be a bit tight with six.

"Sure," Mikhail spoke for us all. "Alexander," he tossed my other brother the keys, "you drive." What followed was a bit of emotional communication. Mikhail and I got in back. Brandy came next, aiming for my lap. Kaja and Taliyah collided over who would be on Mikhail's lap. Kaja was uncertain about her relationship with Mikhail so Taliyah ended up slipping past her. 

Kaja found herself in the front seat. That wasn't too bad as Kaja was the first stop. Brandy wasted no time pressing her body against mine. Taliyah didn't know what to make of Mikhail offering her the front seat after we dropped Kaja off. She gave the Alexander the address and directions, but ...

"Why don't we go by you guys' place?" Taliyah suggested before we were half way there.

"Because you are one of the fucking enemy?" Mikhail mocked her. Taliyah looked offended.

"What makes you say that?" she glared.




WMD Ch. 02



"You are a bitch in Darius' kennel, that's why," Mikhail snorted.

"It is not like that," Brandy spoke up. "Taliyah and I are BFFs."

"That's hardly an endorsement," Mikhail countered.

"Chill, Mikhail," I tapped my brother. "If Brandy vouches for her, she's good." This wasn't so much me trusting Brandy; it was exhibiting favoritism with zero cost to us. "Besides, Taliyah did let me know that Brandy was in trouble yesterday."

"That's right," Taliyah looked over her shoulder and beamed malice in Mikhail's direction. She was buckled in so the maneuver was awkward.

"Fine ... whatever," Mikhail conceded the point. When Taliyah turned back around, he shot me a wink. Good Cop/Bad Cop - our tactics weren't even all that original. 

FYI, Alexander was the 'good cop', not me. I was Brandy's boyfriend, so my work was already cut out for me. Once we got to our place, Alexander made his move.

"I'm sorry," he sighed to Taliyah. "Mikhail can be really hardheaded at time."

"I thought you twins - triplets would be more alike," Taliyah groused.

"Do you know many triplets?" Alex teased her playfully. He was our 'nice guy'.

"I ... no," Taliyah frowned at him. Alex lifted her book bag off her shoulder and headed inside.

Taliyah followed along. To prove this Battle of the Sexes was a contest, not a rout, Taliyah shot a big smile Brandy's way before racing to catch up with Alex.

"Nice house," Taliyah remarked as she passed from the entryway to the main hall.

"Alex," Anita, our downstairs maid greeted us in order. "Ms. Malik (Taliyah), Mikhail, Ms. Carson (Brandy) and Vlad. Young men, your Mother says you must finish your homework and complete one hour of practice before having any fun." Anita was fitting comfortably into the role of task-mistress in Mom's absence.

Most importantly, we knew better than to 'sass' her. Anita knew that one word of complaint from her would land us in hot water with Mom and Dad. I believed our parents' trust in her added to her enjoyment of her job. 

"By your command," Alex said as he put his right fist over his heart.

"I thought she was your servant?" Taliyah teased us.

"Ms. Malik, I'm the residence's downstairs maid which means I run the downstairs, except for the kitchens ~ that is Kamika's domain ~ greet guests and assign the children their chores. Consuela takes care of the top two floors. Ms. (Bebe) Marston takes care of the horses." 

"These boys know they had better behave and pitch in when we ask them to," Anita concluded.

"Why gosh, Michael," Taliyah turned on my younger triplet with a passable House Niggah sugary voice, "I thought you was the Massa of da planation."

"Hah," he refused to be baited. "In Russia, we didn't have slaves, we had serfs, which was pretty much as bad. Russia didn't free them until 1861. Since I don't want Mom to reintroduce the practice with her own sons, we do as we are told. And the name is Mikhail. The English mispronounce it as Michael."

"I wouldn't mind making you my 'serf'," she just wouldn't let go. She didn't know Mikhail. He was on her in a flash, pulled her up so that her belly rested on his right shoulder, and spanked her butt with his left.

"Ow!" she yowled. "Stop that."

"Mikhail, put that young lady down right now!" Anita snapped. He put Taliyah down on her feet. She pulled away too fast, tripped over her own feet and went crashing down ... or would have if I hadn't caught her. Taliyah pushed off me and launched herself at the smirking Mikhail.

"Miss ..." Anita started to referee. Taliyah went to slap Mikhail. He caught her right-handed slap by the wrist with his left hand. She tried to follow it up with a knee to his nuts. He blocked with his left leg. My angry triplet yanked Taliyah forward, raising her trapped right limb behind her back. 

Taliyah tried to get a punch in with her left with the same poor result. He had both her arms twisted behind her and the cheerleader's body pressed tightly to his.

"Let me go," Taliyah growled. That having no effect, she looked to Anita. 

"Girl, I made him let you go once," she was less than sympathetic. "You were the one who chose to attack him." 

Mikhail chuckled, then went in for a kiss. Taliyah turned away, so he tried again. No such luck. She wasn't scared - Taliyah was furious.

"Vlad," Brandy squeezed my arm, "do something." 

Since her tone was pleading, not demanding, I decided to act.

"Mikhail, let her go," I declared.

"No," he laughed at me.

"Two out of three falls?" Alexander suggested a combative alternative.

"Fine," Mikhail allowed. He let Taliyah go while deftly dodging another nut-shot.

"Wrestling?" I asked.

"Sambo," Mikhail grinned. Damn, I was the better wrestler while he was better at the Russian national marital art.

"After homework and practice," Anita reiterated the law. 

"I want to go home," Taliyah sulked.

"Taliyah, we might as well do our homework first," Brandy put a comforting arm around Taliyah's shoulder. There was more than a plea for help with her schoolwork going on, that was for sure. The Black cheerleader was clearly conflicted.

"Fine ..." Taliyah glared at Mikhail.

"Taliyah, I apologize," Mikhail offered out of the blue. "I over-reacted and I shouldn't have laid a hand on you." Taliyah tested the power of that apology by slapping him. This time, my younger triplet took it.

By the way Taliyah shook her hand, she had figured out hitting my brother felt a lot like punching a wooden support beam. He smiled at her while he rubbed his jaw. Taliyah snarled, snatched up her dropped book bag then grabbed Brandy's hand and stormed off to the ... dining room ... by pure luck.

"Smooth Bro," Alexander chuckled.

"I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her go," he bantered back. Taliyah's bestial shout let us all knew she had heard that. For the three of us, it was a clarification of our plans. Taliyah wanted the 'bad boy' Mikhail, not the calm, comforting 'good guy' Alexander. We were all good with that.

(The After-School Special)

Everything was as Mom predicted; Brandy was a randy minx, clearly hungry for my presence. She kept crossing her legs and sneaking peeks at me. Ten minutes before we finished, Mom came striding through the front door, diverted to the dining room to see if her boys were doing okay and stopped abruptly when she saw our two guests. She exhibited a rare bout of diplomacy ... oh, who am I kidding?

"Vlad, what is your skank and her buddy doing here?" Mom inquired politely. Taliyah was taken aback while Brandy cringed.

"Brandy and I are going over the ten most significant changes brought about by the Magna Carta. Her BFF's name is Taliyah Malik. She's co-captain of the Cheer Squad."

"Oh, I know her name. She's nothing but another fuck-hole for Darius' crowd," Mom clucked. "And Malik, your Daddy's birth surname was Baker, but he was such a useless piece of shit I am glad he stopped being an embarrassment to the English language and took on an Arabic name like the gutless coward that he is."

"What!" Taliyah shot out of her chair so fast it crashed over.

"Cum-for-brains," Mom sneered. "The door is right there (pointing out of sight to the front door). You are welcome to get out of my house the moment you can no longer handle the truth." None of us looked prepared to challenge Mom over that accusation.

"Vlad," Brandy whispered for some support. I shrugged then stood to face Mom.

"Mother, Brandy's my girl and I'd appreciate you not going all-out crazy on her best friend," I winked at my Mom. Normally, I'd never go against my maternal unit without a halberd, or a howitzer, because she was damn tough and mean as a hyena pack leader. Things weren't normal. 

"Fine Vlad. I'm disappointed in your desire to crawl through the sewers, but a man's got to learn the harsh realities of cum dumpsters eventually. You might as well start with the high school's premiere examples." 

"Bitch, you and I ..." Taliyah started marching around the table. None of us did anything though Mom's face developed a certain level of gleeful anticipation.

Taliyah clued in on the older woman's confidence and slowed down.

"Taliyah, my Mom can kick my ass," Alexander said. "She will dispose of you in ten seconds flat."

"Is your whole family filled with assholes," she spun on him angrily.

"Nah, mainly its Mom and Mikhail," he noted calmly. "Me, Vlad and Dad are pretty mild mannered in comparison." That answer didn't appear to mollify Taliyah much, nor was she inspired to take the attack to the mature woman who looked ready, willing, and able to put a beat-down on her.

"Whatever," Mom shrugged. "Brandy, when you've finished your school work, come find me in my office on the second floor."

"We'll be leaving," Taliyah grumbled.

"Not if she ever wants to fuck any of my boys again, she won't," Mom laughed as she strode away.

Taliyah's blistering retort died on her lips when she saw the look of near-panic on Brandy's face. Brandy had the look of a junkie dying for her next fix ... which made me feel sorry for her, damn it. Homework finished, the three boys headed out for some warming up before Mikhail and I had our bout. We had to get Bebe to referee because Alexander had 'someplace else' to be. 

Brandy headed up like one of the condemned, leaving Taliyah at loose ends. She got off on us being all hot and sweaty ~ it was September in Arkansas. She was even more thrilled to watch Mikhail kick the crap out of me in two Sambo matches. She vocally encouraged me yet her eyes were all over Mikhail. When he caught her at it, her response was particularly annoying to all of us.

"I don't do White guys," she snubbed her nose at my brother - all of us really. For me, it was back to 'The Plan' and that included some Brandy-time. Brandy had appeared behind Taliyah in the last minutes of our workout. She hung back nervously, her hair wet and her skin freshly scrubbed.

Mom was really working the 'sullied, dirty girl' angle on her. Alexander and I had already triple checked our mother for her own poisonous version of racism. Mikhail didn't really care. She assured us it was this town in particular, not Blacks in general, that drew her ire. That put things clearly back into her history here way before we were born.

"Hey Brandy," I gave her a toothy smile, "did you just get here?" Taliyah looked over her shoulder at her BFF.

"Ah, yes ... I was feeling a bit of the heat ... so I grabbed a shower," she lied. She'd been cleaned inside and out.

"Damn," I frowned. "I wanted to spend some time with you. Do you want me to take you home now?" Brandy blinked then blanched.

"NO ... I mean, I'm okay now," she reined in her fears.

"Do you want to go horseback riding?" I suggested. Not happy.

"We could take them up to the hunting lodge?" I added. Very happy. "That would be a great workout." Oh, she was thinking of working out, alright.

"Yes, that would be great," she babbled. Now Taliyah was getting really freaked out.

"Brandy, I'd like to go home now," Taliyah broke our line of sight.

"Taliyah, please," Brandy begged desperately enough to worry her friend.

"Fine," Taliyah huffed. "I've never been horseback riding before. It might be fun."

"I'll show you two the basics and pick out horses for you," Bebe delicately proposed. 

"Vlad and I need to take a shower if we are going to ride with you," Mikhail mirthfully noted.

"I don't want to go anywhere with you," Taliyah griped.

"I feel the same damn way," Mikhail shook his head. "The rule is never to send out a novice rider without a guide. Vlad will have to 'take care' of Brandy, so I'm stuck with you."

"Why can't Alex come instead," Taliyah questioned him.

"He has an afterschool project he is working on," he sighed. "I'll let him know you asked about him." Taliyah looked stormy even while she relented for her friend's sake. Brandy wanted to help me bathe. I had to remind her that she and Taliyah needed some preliminary work with Bebe before we could head to the hunting lodge.

I still hurried through my shower, as did Mikhail. Mom briefed us on our strategy. Mikhail could touch and taste, but his dick remained sheathed. I could tear of chunks off Brandy til my heart's content. The louder, the better and all designed to break Taliyah down. Mom wouldn't let Mikhail do the deed until she was 'cleaned up' in the same way Brandy had been.

It seemed a bit needlessly cruel ... for Brandy, Taliyah and Mikhail, but listening to our Mother seemed the prudent thing to do in this case. By the time me and my brother got to the stables, Brandy was ready to bust a gut. Bebe had already saddled up our mounts to ease our passage.

The second we hit the trail, I leaned over and exchanged saliva with Brandy. She was raring to go and I could smell her sex wafting toward me already. I made sure to kiss her during every turn where I had room enough to bring my mare beside hers. 

Taliyah had started out snickering. By the time we made it to the hunting lodge, she was anything but amused. Taliyah was still operating under the assumption Brandy was Darius' obedient little sperm receptacle, so Brandy's lust for me unsettled her.

"I've got this," Mikhail chortled as Brandy and I leapt off our mounts and ran inside.

She sprinted straight for the master bedroom, scene of our first frolic, like a woman with the Hounds of Hell at her heels. I raced to catch up. She jumped, spun in mid-air, and bounced on the mattress twice. She didn't need to urge me in shedding my clothes. She applauded my failure to have on any underwear.

"Please ... please, please I want you," she begged. She was on her back, her legs spread wide open and her arms were reaching out, ready to pull me in. In I went and off she went. I slammed a powerful penetration deep into her womb and Brandy orgasmed - loudly.

She clung to me as if I was a life preserver and she was being swept up in white-water rapids. Her breathe came in labored huffs. Previous experience had taught me to give her a chance to recover after a climax. I decided to try a trick my Mom had suspiciously suggested 'might be good for her'.

I sucked on two of my fingers, getting them good and slick with my saliva. I snaked that hand between us until I found her pronounced clit. I few little plucks and it was a VERY HAPPY clit and Brandy went off again. I felt like a spectator to a one-woman sex show. Had her vaginal walls not been trying to my milk my prostate down through my urethra, I'd have thought she was faking it.

She sounded like ... ugh ... Mom when she in the midst of 'private time' with Dad. Not where I wanted my mind to be going right then. Brandy finally stopped trying to hug me to death and let herself gently fall back on the comforter. Her look said it all: ~ more. More was what I gave her.

I was peripherally aware of Taliyah sneaking to our open door, watching for a few minutes then leaving. Brandy wasn't paying attention. Her focus was completely absorbed by me - my eyes, my tongue, my fingers and my cock rocking in and out of her vagina. 

My glans caressed every inch, every fold and ridge of her vagina as if we were physiologically designed for one another. I could ravish her, tease her and go every speed in between and she loved it. I was having so much fun, and feeling I was doing such a masterful job, I lost track of her orgasms and didn't really snap out of my sex-frenzy until I ejaculated.

I felt I had run a 5K and Brandy clearly looked like she'd shared every step.

"Don't ever leave me," she whimpered as I rolled off of her. She sluggishly pulled her body atop mine then repeated that declaration. There was no question in my mind she was stating a heartfelt desire far greater than a plea for companionship.

"Water," I gasped. "And something sugary sweet ... besides you," I teased her. Brandy was super-pleased with herself and temporarily sated. She was so aglow with her happiness, she totally forgot we had company until we were both in the kitchen. The bar separated us from the den and dining room (an open concept) while offering a clear view of both rooms.

The television was on. Taliyah was in a leather recliner, rear to us, while Mikhail was slouched on the sofa, its side to us, with his long legs stretched out over a foot stool. Taliyah was twisted in her seat, looking around the head-rest.

"Umm-huh?" Taliyah murmured. 

Brand had been cuddled up to me, her back against my front, both of us naked, when she recalled her friend.

"It is about time," the BFF frowned. "Now that you are finally done, can we go?"

"Are we finished?" Brandy turned around in my arms so that she was looking into my eyes.

"Nope. I still want my sugary treat ... and desert," I emphasized that last part by reaching down and grabbing a double-handful of her scrumptious ass.

"Let me get you something to eat," she perked up. She tried to get away - twice - yet each time I pulled her back into a French kiss. The third time she was able to fend off my advances. First came the bottled water from the refrigerator. Next, she stood on her tippy-toes to look into the above-the-counter wooden cabinets.

She found several cans of peaches the first time out. She pulled one down, looked over her shoulder, shot me a wicked sultry look then retrieved two more rapidly. A drawer search revealed a manual can opener. Getting to the peaches became a whole new ordeal for Brandy as I was relentless in my hunger for a touch of her and more than one taste.

The third can found her squirming her butt against my achingly hard cock ~ she was really that hot looking. I reached around her, moving my hands down between her legs then lifted her up until my cock sprang free from the tight valley of her buttock.

"Ooohhh..." she whimpered.

"Put it in," I rumbled into her ear. A little repositioning, rolling her hips forward and resting her palms on the counter allowed me to surf her channel from behind. This was a careful, easy screwing this time around. 

Brandy hooked her metatarsus behind my knees allowing me to support her weight with one hand while I soaked the other in saliva. The first went to her clit, making slow circles around its base. The left hand went to her right breast. I kneaded it like warm, fresh dough, running along the sweat trapped beneath each mammary before raking my fingernails up to her teat.

She screamed ... and I mean SCREAMED out her passion. Later Mikhail told me that utterance crushed any plans Taliyah had for cutting Brandy's and my intercourse short.

"Do it again," she yelled. I obliged. Brandy was gyrating and humping me all on her own.

Before she could boil over, I manipulated her body until I had her butt resting on the edge of the counter and the back of her knees resting on my arms. Brandy was proving to be exceptionally fit and limber. She ran her fingers through the back of my hair, true happiness radiating forth from her aura and intense pleasure originating from our fucking.

The open cans of peaches caught my eyes. I was seized with a brainstorm, or an unexplored food fetish. I picked up a can, slowly dripped the thick peach syrup onto her right breast then licked it up.

"Yes, yes, yes," she muttered. Her lips were next then her left teat.

Neck, lips again and chin followed, all with near-similar results.

"Bro," Mihail chided me, "take it to the bedroom." I heeded his advice. With one can of opened peaches and Brandy on my rod, we staggered back to bed. I didn't stagger because of Brandy's weight. It was her ferocious attentions that kept me unbalanced.

"Baby," Brandy purred. "Let's give my poor pussy a break."

"Don't call me 'baby'," I teased her right nipple with the cool can. "Think of another pet name." She knew what I meant - I wouldn't accept any name she'd used with Darius. She bit her lower lip, using that erotic cuteness of the gesture to buy her some time and forgiveness.




WMD Ch. 02



"Prince?" she hazarded.

"Prince Vlad?" I arched an eyebrow. I didn't normally associate 'Brandy' with 'clever'. She nodded and repaid my smile with small kisses on my lips. I put the can aside before falling on the bed with her.

I opted to give her 'poor pussy' a break, by rolling over on my back with Brandy on top, looking down. Brandy pumped her eyebrows, 'dismounted' then rubbed her belly over my soaked, sticky penis while she reached for the peaches. Instead of Peaches and Cream ... well, after some work on her part, it was Peaches and Cream. Clever girl indeed.

As we were relaxing, Brandy on her belly while I lavished attention on her fit, fleshy ass cheeks with kisses, licks and nips - no anal play - we began hearing noises from the front of the lodge. Taliyah was trying and failing to control her mewling noises.

"I wonder what they are doing?" Brandy giggled. I knew what they weren't doing. No penetration. No kissing. The rules for the three of us were clear. We weren't going where another man dumped his semen until that stuff was flushed, or washed away. For some reason, Mom believed any prospective dates would put up with that level of humiliation.

She'd been right about Brandy, but we'd had Brandy's back to a wall with Darius sending her into our Bears' Den (we were Russian-Americans, so we were bears, not lions). There was no way Taliyah would put up with that. As it turned out, Mom was right. I was a novice when it came to women and their sexual desires.

"Prince ..." Brandy grew hesitant.

"Yes Brandy?" I decided I didn't want a pet name for her.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," she refused to look at me when she confessed that. Oh Hell NO! She was still Darius' sex sleeve. Time to twist the knife.

"You told me you are Darius' girl," I threw her words back at her. She buried her face in a pillow and started to sob. I would have been aghast except Mom, the presentimental witch that she was, had warned me about this feminine tactic to avoid responsibility.

"Stop that," I grew stormy-serious. "You don't get to cry, Brandy. I keep showing you I care for you and I certainly want you. You are the one with another man."

"That's not fair," she turned her tear-streaked face my way. Yep, it was an act. "You know that Darius and I are ... complicated."

I sat up. Two could play this game. Besides, there was another girl I truly was interested in and by Brandy-logic, I was free to play the field. 

"No," I shook my head in denial. "It is not complicated. You want to fuck us both ..."

"No Vlad," she protested. "I only want to have sex with you ... it is just ... Darius has this hold over me."

"You are not asking for my help breaking free," I pointed out.

"Vlad," she reached out and stroked my bicep, "You know it's ..."

"Oh fuck yeah!" Taliyah sang out. Apparently those internet tutorials on 'finger-play' and non-penetrative erogenous zones had paid some vital dividends for Mikhail. I had delivered fuck-all orgasms to Brandy already today, yet she suddenly looked jealous. I could deal with that. I slid off the bed to some urgent pouting on her part. She didn't have to wait long. 

I pulled her off the bed by her left hand and into my arms.

"Ow," she squeaked as I put a stinging, cupped hand to her bottom. She tried to maneuver away and the chase was on. If she tried to face me, I tickled her. When she tried to avoid me, her butt got a good spanking. She squeaked, squawked, giggled and yelped playfully as I hunted her down.

Brandy proved shameless, nimble for such a full-figured dynamo and athletic. She went squealing down the hall, passed the kitchen into the den. When she vaulted the sofa like a pommel horse, she finally was able to put some distance between us. I could get over the sofa just not as fast as she could. She took the momentary reprieve to spin around and shake a scolding finger at me.

"Stop taking me for granted," she surprised me.

"What?" it was my turn to squawk. "I'm not taking advantage of you." Brandy looked up at our ten inch height differential defiantly. "Fine, I'm not taking advantage of you this very second." She countered by poking her chin forward, putting her hands on her hips which caused her tantalizing succulent boobs to bounce.

"Brandy?" Taliyah panted. We both finally looked over at the kitchen bar counter. Taliyah was on her back, her head tilted back so she was gazing at us upside down. Her shirt was rolled up, as was her bra. Mikhail had her legs pushed up with her ankles on his shoulders. He looked wickedly pleased with himself.

"Taliyah?" Brandy returned the questioning tone. "You hate Mikhail." Taliyah turned her head forward and to the side.

"I still hate his cracker-ass, but his tongue ... the bastard refuses to fuck me though," she complained. "It isn't fair that I'm not getting what you clearly ARE getting." Mikhail was sticking to the rules so no tongue-fucking either.

"Taliyah, their Mamma doesn't let them have random sex," Brandy informed her. "You need to talk with ... ah ... Mrs. Samsonov before you get any of the really good stuff." Mom was three ~ four miles away, yet I could still make out the reverberations of her maniacal merriment. Her wacky plan was working for no sane reason I could understand.

"No way," Taliyah grumbled. "I'm not asking their Mamma for shit." Mikhail shrugged then let her legs fall to his sides abruptly.

"I can get tail elsewhere," he snorted.

"You fucker," Taliyah's grumbling turned to a snarl. "At least help me clean up."

"Why should I? I'm not your boyfriend and from what I hear, he treats you like a whore too," he mocked her. Did I mention my brother could be a cruel, pompous ass? Alex was the nice guy of the three of us. I was glad I had Mikhail for this episode because I bet Alex would have gone off-program. 

Alex didn't need to start having feelings for a girl who'd feed him to Darius' crowds without a hint of regret.

"Vlad, do something?" Brandy demanded with a pout for extra oomph.

"Like what?" I countered. "You are the ones who are cheating on your boyfriends and using us for your dirty-little-secret, sexual pleasures. We could be with girls that give a damn about us."

"Stop being such a bastard," Brandy slapped me in my left pectoral. She followed that attack up by rushing into my arms, wrapping her arms around my waist and holding me tight as she pressed her ear to my heart. What?

I was beginning to wonder if I had been lucky never having a serious girlfriend before. For that matter, I was reconsidering whether my Father's blasé attitude toward women might indeed be the right way to go.

"Frankly, Brandy ... I don't give a damn," I adopted my best Rhett Butler. "I haven't had this," I squeezed her ass so strongly she had to rise up against me.

"I thought ... thought you would be different," Brandy was somewhat shocked by my raw, brutal demands. She meant she thought I'd be more like one of the spineless limp-dick White boy she'd grown up with. I fucking hated stereotypes.

"I am different. I don't have to dress you in a dozen men's semen to mark you as my own." 

"I'll take you when I want, how I want and where I want ... unless you run away ... really, really fast." I spanked both cheeks at once. "Wench - bedroom - NOW!" Brandy gasped in pleasure, struggled free and beat her little wench-feet back to the bedroom. I strode after her like the Captain of my own World.

"Why can't you be more like him?" Taliyah complained to Mikhail. He had other things on his mind. "Hey ... stop that ... I'm not Brandy. I don't ... aaahhh ... take it up the ass ... I said ... aaahhh ... stop that."

"Bitch, the horse is outside. Make up your mind right now, or I'm going to make it up for you," he growled back.

"I'll bite your dick off, White Boy," she snarled in response. Since I didn't hear a door slamming, I assumed she chose to challenge Mikhail. I don't understand women. Back in the master bedroom once more, Brandy was trying to hide beneath the comforter.

"Vlad, can we talk for a ..." she balked when I ripped the comforter out of her 'frightened' hands and off the bed on one mighty yank. "Vlad!" 

I was on her in a flash. I didn't go straight for the anal intercourse. First we wrestled around. She nipped and I kissed her and suckled hard enough on both nipples to give her hickies.

She didn't claw me, nut me, or hit me all that hard so I figured this was what my Mom had called 'aggressive foreplay'. What I did know was by the time I had rolled her onto her stomach, her butt was pressing and wiggling against my cock with persistent need.

"Lube," I exclaimed. She froze up, figuratively (she was slick with hot, sticky sweat), and waited for me to 'prep' her with one finger ~ she'd felt a lot tighter this time out ~ and only reinvigorated her urgent writhing once I'd returned to my dominant spot over her. Even with lube in her anus and a generous coating on my phallus, it was tough going.

In hindsight, I should have taken it easier on her, but I was inexperienced and Brandy was willing to scream into the pillow instead of telling me to slow down.

"Damn," I grunted. "That's ... tight ..."

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Does it hurt?" I stupidly inquired.

"Yessss ..." she whispered.

"Good," I growled. I pulled back until my glans dilated her sphincter, then slammed in hard and fast again. It hurt my cockhead, but I did it again and again anyway.

I could make out her sobbing. While I was formulating a new plan, her thighs and ass began to quiver. The vibrations reverberated over her entire body and then she howled like a Lost Soul discovering Paradise. It was hardly something I could call a human noise. It was definitely jubilant. 

"Ha ... ha ... harder," she wheezed. "Fuck me ..." and I started repeatedly pile-driving her butthole. The first time I had been using my hips. This outing I worked all my brawn and weight into my thrusts. Her vaginal secretions made a mess of the sheets, coated her thighs and my scrotum and made this oddly erotic squelching noise every time I bottomed out in her rectum.

I kept going, despite all-over muscle cramps, both of us being drenched in sweat and finally Brandy losing her voice until I shot-gunned a full load of cum deep into her intestines (perhaps an exaggeration). Brandy lay there, motionless after I rolled off. After two, or three, minutes, she mumbled something.

"What?" I rolled onto my side and petted her spine from the nape of her neck to the small of her a back. She mumbled something again. I kissed her behind the left ear, nibbled on the lobe then repeated my question.

"I really do love you," she moaned. Shit.

"Ah - ah- aha - yeah - bi - bitch - ah - ha - is that all you - ah - got White boy," Taliyah was getting progressively louder from the front area. I could hear the recliner creaking and imagined it rocking back and forth. This I had to see. Brandy was dead weight as I tried to drag her with me out of bed. I doubled back, swept her up into my arms bride-style and quick-footed it toward the noise.

Taliyah's shoulders and head were evident over the back of the leather recliner. Her face was a mask of pleasurable pain, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her muscles strained whenever she rocked back. Mikhail was behind her, rhythmically pushing her forward then letting her rock back. His countenance was one of intense concentration. They were both naked and working up a sheen of sweat. 

My bet was on him trying to not be sadistic more than stopping himself from coming too soon. We Samsonov men had some incredible stamina to go with our bulky size.

"Mikhail, I knew you couldn't turn Taliyah away for long," Brandy heaved with amused exhaustion. Mikhail shook his head in the negative.

"How's that ass, Bro?" I teased him. Brandy looked up at me uncertainly, then back to Taliyah. The Black girl's head hung in shame but that didn't stop her form giving back as good as she got.

"Taliyah!" Brandy gasped. "You gave up your ass ... your anal virginity to Mikhail? I thought you would never give it up?"

"He held me down," she grunted. She was clearly lying about my Brother overwhelming her as well as her raunchy gratification. Against all reason, Brandy began licking my neck and rubbing her torso, ass and thigh against my chest and arms.

"Mikhail, take her to the sofa," I suggested. He looked up quizzically so I hefted Brandy high enough to cause her to 'meep'. I took Brandy to the sofa, placed her knees on the cushions and bent her chest on the back rest. Taking her by the hips with one hand, I pulled her rump back as I impaled her sphincter on my reanimated cock for one more ride.

Eight strokes in and Taliyah and Mikhail appeared beside us. Brandy was in pure bliss. Taliyah squinted at her, then slowly gave into her own rapture. I'd always considered anal sex to be painful for the 'catcher' and not something a person could get into. Then I made allowances for Brandy's individual kink. Now I had Taliyah giving her asshole up to my brother and going wild.

I seriously began accepting my novice status and the sad reality: Mom must have been a highly proficient slut to be giving such good advice to her nearly virginal sons. Her awkward (for us) verbal lessons, so hard to believe at the time, were proving timely and terribly accurate. The last trick, she said, was to treat a woman like you owned her while not to treating her like some random orifice.

When I picked up the pace on Brandy's tight bunghole, Mikhail matched me. What was ecstasy for Brandy turned out to be too much for the anal virgin Taliyah. She bit down on the sofa cushion in order to stifle her scream. Taliyah vibrated up against him as her climax rocked her in a series of savage tidal surges.

Brandy soaked in Taliyah's fuck-stunned look while Mikhail's gaze was one of frank appraisal of my girl's physical sensuality. She didn't press back to meet my thrusts, instead presenting her ass for the best angle of attack. Brandy squeezed her anus, and rotated her hips to give me as much stimulation as I was giving her.

"Damn Vlad, your bitch has it going on," Mikhail laughed. Brandy shot me a quick look. Taliyah looked downright insulted by the comparison.

"Her name is Brandy - not bitch, Mik," I glared back, "and your woman is looking unappreciated." Calling him Mik told my brother I thought he'd crossed the line. Brandy's response was immediate. 

She arched her back up until her body was parallel to mine. Brandy kept up her gyrations allowing me to fondle her bodacious bosom while engaging her in a deep, soul-draining French exploration of the Lost Continent. The sexual act was a never-ending journey. Sensing she wanted to keep that pose for everyone's benefit, I slipped two finger from my right hand into our mouths.

Those slick fingers went down to her clit and pinched that mighty nub between them. That really set her off. My left hand migrated from nipple to nipple, giving each areola a spirited slap. Her whines became orgasmic.

"Why won't you kiss me like that?" Taliyah griped.

"Because I don't feel like picking some other guy's pubic hair out of your teeth," he mocked her. They started struggling, but Mikhail wouldn't let her turn around. He did make a concession to her amorous desires by planting kisses on her neck and ear. That mollified Taliyah somewhat, though she didn't stop trying to break free. One titanic exhalation brought Brandy crashing down from her latest climax.

She hung limply in my embrace while I cradled her in my arms.

"Take a look at your brother," Taliyah moaned. "He knows how to treat a lover, you Neanderthal. You could learn something."

"I like my Black Bitches quiet," he teased. "Why can't you learn that? Is it too complicated for you to understand?"

That new bit of outraged allowed Taliyah to break free. As she spun around, Mikhail wisely (and stunningly) retreated.

"I ought 'a smack some color into you, Asshole," she glared.

"That's only fair," he raced behind the sweaty recliner. "I sure pumped a whole lot of white into you."

"Rashaan is going to kill you when he finds out what you did to me," she screamed. That was her boyfriend, the starting quarterback of the football team.

"Unless you want to visit him in the hospital, he'd better bring help," Mikhail kept mocking her. "I'm sure he'll love you giving up the hole you wouldn't give him."

"ARRRRRRRHHHH!!" Taliyah screamed loud enough to give me and Brandy a start. "You forced me and I'll let him know it."

"That's two people lying and two telling the truth, Taliyah," he generously insinuated the Brandy would back her friend over her fuck-buddy. "Besides, this is redneck Davis County, not niggah-loving Kingston. The law is on my side."

That was one 'N-word' too many. Taliyah kept chasing Mikhail who kept taunting her. Playtime had to end. The Sun was starting to set outside. Brandy seemed fascinated with the exchange of barbs mainly because I doubted she'd ever seen a White man openly confront the Black-White divide so fearlessly. This wasn't rednecks throwing empty beer cans and insults from the back of a moving pick-up truck. 

Mikhail was absolutely confident in his ability to withstand any retribution the Black high school power structure could throw his way. I was more worried about Dad and Mom - Dad wouldn't approve of our promiscuity - Mom had yet to bust up Taliyah to her satisfaction. How she'd handle Mikhail's butt-plugging solution was unknown to me. 

The immediate problem: Mikhail couldn't resist sticking verbal barbs into Taliyah and Taliyah always rose to the bait. My solution was to have Brandy get Taliyah back to the master bedroom while I gathered up her clothes. As Mikhail handed me her bra - he'd thrown it across the room when stripping her,

"I didn't ham it up too much, did I?" he winked.

"Nah. I think she thinks you are a complete and utter bastard," I replied in a low voice.

"Damn, I really wanted fuck her today. She's smells great and she's fierce - a real tiger," he kept smiling. Ah crap. Maybe he was smitten too. There was no way I could clue either Brandy, or Taliyah in on that. As fun as fucking Brandy was, as well as me enjoying being in her company, we had a golden opportunity here.

Tomorrow a vengeful Taliyah would unload on Rashaan. He'd want payback. Darius would stop him until he found out I'd banged Brandy all over the place as well. Then we'd let the avalanche take its course. Letting slip our Dad was going to come see us at basketball practice ~ Mom would talk him into that for us ~ would guarantee a fight during school hours.

Tomorrow was Thursday and Friday was an 'away' game so the football team couldn't get us after school then. That meant the team would be leaving school before the end of seventh period on Friday and there was no way they could wait to beat us up until next Monday. I had little doubt Darius would smell a set up. Convincing his minions of that would be the impossible part.

In the bedroom, Taliyah was giving me a rather peculiar look.

"Are you afraid I'll steal something?" she sniped.

"What do you mean by that?" I was puzzled.

"He's not like that," Brandy defended me ... from what, I wasn't sure.

"He's White, you're White and his family are a bunch of thieves anyway," she spat. Again ... huh?

"Brandy?" I inquired. She gave me a confused look back. "Okay, both of you should remember I'm from Bumfuck Alaska, before I came here I knew precisely four Black people and one of those was an infant ... and go from there."

"Oh," Brandy nodded. Clearly I was a simpleton. "Taliyah thinks you don't trust her back here with only me because she's African-American and you believe she'll steal something."

I laughed loud and hard, my restive cock bouncing along with me. Both girls appeared pissed at my reaction, so I felt I needed to explain.




WMD Ch. 02



"Taliyah, you are the second hottest girl in school. I'm back here because I like seeing you naked as well as in various forms of undress. You are smoking," I chuckled. "It is nothing more complicated than that."

"Oh," said Taliyah. She was both embarrassed about missing the obvious as well as loving a helping handful of padding for her ego.

"Oh," pouted Brandy. "Second?"

"Yeah. I've got this thing for Amy Hutchinson," I nodded seriously. Amy was a nice, sweet-mannered girl. She was also a sophomore, a late bloomer and flat as a board.

"Oh!" Brandy unleashed her faux-fury, ran up and slapped both my triceps. I was mesmerized by mammaries straining to break free of her frilly beige bra. Her beige panties were doing a good job of being transparent as well. She spun around like a ballerina and attempted a getaway. I was having none of that. 

I tackled her to the bed, press her chest down on the rumpled bed. She struggled sensually. I began nuzzling the back and left side of her neck. Then I began tickling her. She was helpless before my adroit fingers.

"Please," she begged. "Please stop. I'm about to pee on myself."

"Fine," I withheld my torture, "but you owe me a two minute make-out session at your front door when I drop you off."

"No," she declared. Butt thump. "Never." Hip shimmy. "Not happening," she giggled while rapidly rubbing her panties over my unprotected cock.

"Let her up, Vlad," Taliyah cooed softly as she ran a manicured hand from my right shoulder to my right buttock. She gave my butt a light pat to 'enforce' her command.

"God damn it," I grumbled as I rolled off Brandy. 

I stared up forlornly at the ceiling fan. Brandy 'harrumphed', shot Taliyah a poisonous glance then went to all-fours next to me.

"One minute is all you're going to get, Mister," she compromised. I leapt off the bed.

"Hurrah!" I fist pumped. The rest of the redressing went off quickly enough. I stripped the bed, rounded up the sheets and hung the comforter on the back veranda to let it air-out. It smelled like pussy juice and sweat, after all. I would put fresh sheets on the bed later. On the trail, I took point since I was the most familiar with the path. Brandy followed then Taliyah with Mikhail taking up the rear.

Once we broke out into the bottom land, Taliyah moved up side by side with Brandy and began a sneaky conversation behind my back. According to my brother, they studied me a great deal while whispering. Occasionally, Taliyah shot vile looks back at him. He responded by sticking out his tongue and licking the tip of his nose. 

We Samsonov men have long, strong, agile tongues. I wasn't sure what genetic malformation was behind that. Upon our return to the stables, Brandy and Taliyah made to leave, but Mikhail stopped them.

"First rule of horse-riding: tend to your mount before tending to yourself."

"Vlad," Brandy looked my way. She nibbled on her thumb. "Is that a rule you follow ... tending to your 'mount' first?"

"Only if I plan to ride her later," I winked to her. "Then I know I'd better pet her, comb her flanks, feed and water her and make sure she is well refreshed before the next ride."

"Give it a rest!" Mikhail scoffed. "She's already fucking you silly. You don't have to sell it."

"Neanderthal," Taliyah sneered at him as she shoved past him and back to her mount. Brandy sashayed back into the stables as well. If I wasn't careful, I was going to be picking straw out of my underwear.

"Brandy - what the idiot said - you don't need to convince him," she teased her blonde friend. Taliyah and Mikhail waged a relentless skirmish resplendent with verbal barbs and rough, handless shoving. Before Brandy and I could get similarly distracted, her phone rang. A fearful flash of her eyes gave away the ID of the caller.

"Hey Darius," she sounded upbeat. "What's up, Baby?" Darius wasn't screaming, so I couldn't make out what he said. I went back to putting away our tack and bridles. "I'm ..." I mouthed 'tell the truth'. "I'm at the Fonteneau House (Mom's family's last name) with Taliyah. Mr. Baxter wanted me to help Alexander and Vladimir with our first Civics project." Not a total lie.

"What? Isn't what you think ... of course, Baby ... hold on ..." she handed the phone to Taliyah. 

"Get us out of here," Taliyah preempted Darius - almost. "We've been ... listen Darius ... no," she grew sulky, then, "Don't be a Jerk!" she spat. Brandy gasped. Mikhail looked impressed and I was torn between the two reactions.

"I'm not your property ... and I'm not your bitch either," Taliyah grew more belligerent. "I don't give a fuck ... if Rashaan gives a fuck, he can ... fuck you," she blasted Darius before she killed the connection.

"Taliyah ..." Brandy mumbled fearfully. The magnitude of her rebellion began dawning on the Black Cheerleading co-captain.

"Shit Taliyah, if you wanted to sit at our lunch table so bad, I could have told you a half dozen safer ways to do it," Mikhail chuckled. She backhanded my brother in the chest which only made him laugh harder. Six blows later, he raised his hands in surrender. "Fine ... you can sit on Alexander's lap next time."

"Bastard," Taliyah muttered. Her phone rang. It was Rashaan. "Hey Sugah, how's ... yeah ... with Vlad and his shithead brother Michael." Mikhail took the opening to grab a breast and squeeze it. "Mother-fucker!" she yowled. Mikhail was already running around the horse to escape her.

"What ... no ... he grabbed my tit ... what do you mean?" she dove under the mare and kicked my rambunctious kinsman. "Mikhail! No, the other one!" she screamed because Mikhail was starting to wheeze he was laughing so hard. "No, that's Vlad ... yes, the one with Brandy. Damn Rashaan, you are as dumb as a stump. The Mean ONE!" she meant Mikhail.

"Triplets means three," she sounded exasperated. "No, that's twins." Swing and a miss. "I'll call you back. I'm making Vlad and Alex twins ... NO! They are not ... BOY!! I'll call you back." Mikhail was howling so loud he fell over on his side, gasping for air. She leapt on him, legs straddling his hips and began wailing on his head and shoulders.

"Shut up you ..." Taliyah berated him.

"Excuse me," Mom's voice snuff out hilarity with all the force of a glacier dropping on a candle wick. Even Taliyah's fury was quelled.

"Ah ..." Taliyah stammered, taking in their awkward situation.

"I heard it all ..." Mom glared. "Mikhail had it coming. Continue if you so desire." Four sets of eyes blinked in surprise.

"Mom!" Mikhail protested. Taliyah tested these uncharted waters by smacking Mikhail's left arm - the one he was using to shield his head. Mom didn't protest, oh no.

"Bebe, let's get the horses taken care of," she called over her shoulder. Bebe had been hiding just out of sight. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, Vlad. Take your guests home and hurry back." Bebe and Mom took our places while Brandy and I retreated hand in hand. Taliyah stood up without moving away. Mikhail extended a hand up, expecting her to help him out. Why? I wasn't sure.

"You fell down. Get yourself back up," she mocked him. Mikhail chuckled, rolled onto his stomach then launched himself into a standing position. She was out the door and striding away when Mom spoke.

"Taliyah, if you want to fuck Mikhail, you'll have to stop being a whore to the football team - non-negotiable."

"I don't want to fuck your son, Mrs. Samsonov," Taliyah retorted as she spun around. "I hate him." Mom's responding laughter was cavalier and of a remarkable caliber.

"We all hate the best men for us at some point and time," she chortled. "You'll learn. All of us Samsonov women figure that out eventually." Taliyah was rendered speechless. 

"Now Bebe, get me that curry comb," Mom truncated the conversation. We'd been dismissed and even the strangers knew it. 

Back in the house, "I hate you," Taliyah reiterated.

"Thank God," Mikhail guffawed. "I don't think I could survive you being affectionate." She swung and missed. The chase was on again, except this time they were both laughing.

{Meanwhile, back at school}

Alexander opened the door and walked into Ms. Blanchard's room. Five disinterested black faces and a nervous Ms. Blanchard looked his way.

"Whatchya doing here, Boy?" the leader of the male class sneered.

"Ms. Blanchard," Alex handed her a note on official school stationary, "I've been assigned to your Augmented Benchmark Examinations Retest Group."

The Augmented Benchmark Examinations (ABE) Retest Group was for second-year seniors with special circumstances [read: athletes] who had failed to pass the exam last year thus didn't graduate. If the school failed to pass a certain percentage of student-athletes, the Arkansas Department of Education would suspend all school athletic programs until the school's graduation rate exceeded 85% (of incoming freshmen).

For years the big fast bastard of an ex-principal had falsified records, but in 2008, Davis County took over the administration of the tests. After that, Davis County Consolidated High School had been barely limping along academically. Oh, our school had the best 10 year football record in Arkansas and two All-State Championships, but we'd been under academic warning for five of those years and for the past three years we'd been avoiding suspension by the skin of their teeth.

How had that Black Fucktard handled the issue? He handed out incentives. In this case, the incentive was Ms. Blanchard. Andrea Blanchard had been fired from her first teaching job out of college in just two months and she took the job here out of desperation. When she arrived, she was given the worst of the worst students both grade- and discipline-wise.

Then the principal put the screws to her. She'd been dodging the BBC's for her first year. At the end of the spring semester, her English and Social Studies classes were scoring at the bottom of the rankings. She was given an (unpaid) special assignment. She had to help the team's star player (the QB that year) pass his ABE's, or she would be fired 'for cause'.

That would have ended her hopes of a teaching career. The jerk she was teaching had scored in the bottom ten percentile because he didn't give a shit because he thought he had a scholarship to some school in California. Now he needed summer school to graduate. Did he knuckle down and hit the books? Nah. He was smart enough to pass without much effort.

What he did do was dial up the pressure on Ms. Blanchard. Bit by bit, she sold her soul to the super-star until she was a confirmed alcoholic and surrendered up her pussy (and a bit more) when he finally did pass the final exam. He went off to college out west and she got handed off to the next group of hideous under-achievers. Her abuse went on and on.

Her retention was continuously based on her ability to motivate raising and repeat seniors to get off their asses and fill out the circles on a 'my IQ is at least 85' test. From the founder of this noxious fraternity, the BBC's developed an interesting ritual to confirm their dominant status. 

Anal and vaginal sex was forbidden on school grounds, during school hours. The 'students' settled for taking pictures of her sucking their cocks, their cum pooled up in her mouth and her masturbating. Every graduate was allowed to witness her having a gold star tattooed on her buttocks as a constant reminder of her degradation plus all her holes were fair game. How civilized was that?

Had she not been half in the bottle most of the time, she might have been able to salvage some sort of academic career. Instead, she was coasting down toward a bitter end with her liver and sanity racing to see which one gave out first. Then Alexander Samsonov stepped into her life. He'd overheard two jocks joking about it when he first took Ms. Blanchard's English class the first day of classes.

Since then he'd been slowly getting her to open up a tiny bit. She didn't know the full scope of what he knew about her fate, but my brother's sense of chivalry couldn't let this humiliation continue. His problem was how could he separate her from her tormentors? Neither the Principal nor the Vice-Principal would assign him the class. Not only were his grades far too high, those two knew the deal about Ms. Blanchard's servitude and disability.

Exit the Fat Bastard Cocksucker and enter the Nutty-nutjob, Dr. Pierre. One impassioned speech about how Alex wanted to enter one of the doc's alma maters and eldest Samsonov triplet had his new, after-hours class assignment. Classes met from 4:30 to 6:00 pm every Monday and Wednesday with a prep test from 4:15 to 5:15 pm on Fridays.

The schedule was built to work around sports training and game days ~ even away games. Alexander didn't meet the (low) requirements to be in the class, but then Dr. Pierre wasn't qualified to be an educator, so it all even out in the end.

"Oh," Ms. Blanchard subconsciously pouted. "I wasn't aware you needed the help. You are ..." she looked over the sea of hostile Black faces, "welcome to ... join us," she petered out feebly.

"I will do my best to see all of us get through the ABE together," he smiled at her, then met the hateful glares of his fellow academic refugees. "I want everyone to know the idiocy is going to stop ... right here, right now." 

"What was that?" Ms. Blanchard shook away some of her post/after-school vodka haze as she tried to remember what was going on.

"Nothing, Ms. Blanchard," he smiled at the educator. "I'll just take a seat."

Ms. Blanchard returned to her lesson plan for the day and after a few minutes, the boys got boisterous. Alexander had a pre-planned response for that. He took out a blue racket ball from his backpack and a leather-bound addition of 'War and Peace' in its native Russian.

The moment Ms. Blanchard seemed truly distracted, with her back turned, he threw the ball at the farthest troublemaker. He let the guy know it was coming too. What happened next was the normal human reaction. The other four momentarily looked over to see if the fifth guy caught the ball. He did. Alex was being obvious about it. 

That also meant only the ball-catcher saw Alex smash W&P into the back of the closest moron's head. He blasted his fellow student out of his chair. The book's follow-through placed it back into Alex's backpack before anyone else was the wiser. The victim crashed violently into the Black guy next to him and the both went to the floor.

"What's going on?" Andrea asked when she turned around. She found two of her students on the floor (one cradling his cranium) one with a blue ball, two staring at Alexander with a 'wtf?' expression on their faces and an angelic Alexander staring at her.

"He hit Darnell with a book," Devonte (aka the ball guy) exclaimed.

"This book?" Alexander motioned to the open ABE paperback book he had open in front of him, on the desk.

"No," he grumbled. "The one you just hid."

"Mother-fucker," Tucker, (aka the Collateral Damage guy) pulled himself up. "I'm going to kick your ..." he threatened.

"My head," the target moaned. "I think he dun broke ma head wide open."

"Everyone calm down," Andrea wavered.

"Of course, Ms. Blanchard," Alex remained civil. "I must point out that Darnell appears to have been hit in the back of his skull. He must have been facing forward, listening to your lecture, so his attacker had to be someone behind him and that means it certainly wasn't me."

"Bitch," Tucker balled up his fists.

"Are you implying you want to view my testicles," Alexander mocked him.

"Please everyone sit down," Andrea pleaded.

"Your brothers aren't here to back you up," Jase (the other guy closest to him) menaced. His buddy, Lamar, stood as well.

"I said 'please sit down'," Andrea turned shrill.

"Bitch," Jase turned on her. "Sit your ass down!" He emphasized that by driving his first and middle finger into her sternum. Threatening the teacher brought Alexander out of his chair. Until that point, he'd been in the wrong.

"Care to try that on me?" Alexander challenged him.

He had four ... three actually (Darnell still hadn't gotten off the floor) buddies backing him up and they were all football players. Jase rose to the bait.

"Bitch," he did the finger poke on Alex, "I told you - OW!" he screamed as my brother grabbed his two fingers, twisted his palm upwards then bent the fingers down toward the back of his hand.

The others looked ready to rush in.

"Do it and I'll pop two of his fingers off and feed them to the next in line," Alexander growled. He bent the two fingers farther down forcing Jase to rise up on his toes.

"Stop it," he pleaded in general. Alex stopped trying to rip the digits off and the other students stopped advancing.

Having made his point, Alex released Jase's fingers and shoved him away.

"Am I the only one who needs this course?" he stared down the Black kids. "If you don't want to listen to Ms. Blanchard's lesson, you can always leave and drop the class."

"Mutha-," Jase whined as he nursed his bruised digits.

"I said, 'PLEASE SIT DOWN'," Ms. Blanchard screamed. That got everyone's attention. "Sit down," she panted. "Now." For the moment, her students obeyed. That was it for the roughhousing that session. The next round of posturing and non-verbal threats came at the end of class. For a few seconds everyone was seized by a state of confusion.

"White boy," Lamar sneered. "Time for you to go."

"I'm walking Ms. Blanchard to her car," Alex met him hate for hate. "From this day forward, I'm always going to be walking her to her car when we are done here." Andrea paled, even trembling slightly.

"I ... ah ... Alexander, I'll be okay," she mumbled.

"Ms. Blanchard, that wasn't a request," my brother turned to her. "I'm going to see you safely to your car every night until the end of the school year. Please gather your material so we can both head to our respective homes."

"Don't be hoggin the whore," Devonte chortled. Andrea deflated.

"I wasn't planning to touch your mother, Devonte. Thanks for warning," Alex taunted him right back.

It was still five on one ~ good odds, or so they thought.

"By the way, gentlemen," the Russian voice of reason spoke forth, "if any of you don't pass the ABE this semester, my brothers and I are going to hunt you down and skin you alive. That should be your motivation for passing from here on out. Test me at your peril."

They mulled that over. There were ten (the seven who attacked Shaquille, the two in the darken hallway and the basketball teammate with the busted jaw) Black kids who had fought the Samsonov triplets and they were all in various states of recovery. Alexander's fear factor was backed up by the bloody facts.

"I'll catch up with you later, Ms. Blanchard," Devonte leered her way.

"No you won't," Alexander sighed in annoyance. "That shit stops now and that isn't a request either. It is the damn law. Violate the law and you will get to see what passes for civil justice in Alaska." That was a complete and utter fabrication. No Samsonov had ever been found committing summary justice, much less been involved with vigilantes. He didn't feel the need to share that family fact with Andrea's abusers.

They filed out leaving Alex with a stunned Ms. Blanchard. This was the time normally spent on her knees giving hand- and blow-jobs. Instead, she was leaving unmolested. The big, Russian-American and his desires had her worried.

"Thank you," she hesitantly spoke as she locked up her classroom. "I'm not sure what brought on this ..."

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Blanchard. I would like to formally ask you to eat at my family's home tonight. My Mother would like to meet you," Alexander invited her out. She flushed, then shot him a worried glance. Was she changing one group of tormentors for another?




WMD Ch. 03



(WMD = Winter Men's Dilemma; My own irreverent spin on the BBC mythology)

*Editing magic performed by KJ24 and Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells*

*This story is NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!*

* Vlad ~ "You actually expect me to believe my Father, Brothers and I have the genetic capability to addict every woman we have sex with to our schlongs? That's nuts!"

Mom ~ "As opposed to thinking the color, length and girth of a phallus makes any woman lose all sense of loyalty, morality and decorum so she can become a man's sex sleeve - whore - bitch - property? Yes, I do." *

*This story is rather flippant regarding the entire concept of sexual assault. Those who have read my previous tales know this is not my attitude at all. For the sake of this genre, I had to grapple with the concept of 'forcing a woman makes them love that dick'*

*Lastly, from the Great Ravine that is the source my creative output, this story has sort of crawled out on its own. I've been trying to work out the next chapters of my other extended storylines - and that effort goes on. But since I started this story before I ... 'ran into difficulties', I've decided to press forward with it when the urge is upon me.*

*****

{Rendezvous by night}

It was past 1 a.m. when I woke up. It took me a several seconds to recall that I was on Dominique Malik's sofa. It took me a few more seconds to realize I had been woken up by the sound of someone in the kitchen. I got up and stealthily snuck off in that direction. Riley was using the open refrigerator for light while she opened and put aside the various Tupperware containers. She had boldly projected her 'I don't do White guys' attitude. I wanted to test her misconceptions.

She had already put one with the ribs aside and was looking to see if there were anymore. She was still wearing her black halter top, but her jeans and pumps were gone. Instead, all she had on below the shirt was a red fishnet cheekini ~ basically it left her vulva covered by a very sexy mesh, her cheeks covered by a wide-open lattice and two strings linking the front and back patches. 

The lattice made indentions in her plush posterior. Her love handles swelled around the upper band that held the whole garment together and when she bent over, I could see straight into her pussy from behind. My cock went from half-mat to full sails in an instant. I moved up behind her quietly, bent down and,

"It is the red one," I said softly.

Riley jerked up against my body and almost knocked us both over. I wrapped an arm around her waist to keep my balance. Her tummy felt warm and giving under my touch. She tried to turn around. I didn't let her.

"Vlad," she gasped.

"You are searching for the other container with the ribs, right?" I continued as if my rod wasn't pressing her ass cheeks apart.

"Ye - yes," she whispered.

"I'll get it for you," I offered. I bent her forward with slow, but irresistible force. She half-heartedly tried to wiggle past me, which only made my sexual arousal more obvious. Riley had to grasp the side of the refrigerator to keep from falling face-first into the food.

"Here you go," I handed her the ribs. She took it in her hand.

"I've got it," she said after a few heartbeats. "You can move," she said a few seconds later.

"Okay," I chuckled. I stood up, but let my hands fall on her hips. "I was getting a bit too comfortable."

"Oh," she remarked. When she stood up and looked over her shoulder, she was smiling. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen ... old enough," I hinted, "and ready."

"I see you are," she teased me. She pushed back with her butt. That allowed her to shut the refrigerator door, plunging us back into darkness.

We separated. Riley stumbled around for a few seconds as her night vision returned.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"A plate. I want to heat up some ribs. I'm hungry."

I had seen the plates when Taliyah had been getting the setting for our dinner. I pulled down one and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she smiled. She worked her way over to the microwave. It was one of those 'over the oven' kinds. She opened the door. put in the plate and began trying to figure out the controls.

"Put a paper towel over them, or it will splatter all over the place," I advised. I also pulled down one sheet from the roll and came her way. Once more I pressed into her from behind while I worked.

I had the plate covered before she figured out how to work the timer. This time I started out with my hands on her hips.

"Thanks, I've got it now," she looked over her shoulder. I moved my hand along the top of her panties, cupping the swell of her belly and squeezing it with my fingers. "I said...," she murmured. I planted a kiss on her ear. When she turned her neck farther around, I kissed her lips.

She left her mouth slightly open so I scoped out her lips, teeth and tongue with my own. She didn't respond, but she didn't pull back either. I gingerly moved my fingers up her side. My right hand cupped her right breast from below and began to fondle it. My left pulled her billowing hair aside so I could work my oral skills unimpeded.

"Ooohhh," she moaned. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"You are about to get fucked in his house," I stated firmly. "Doesn't that turn you on?" She moaned some more. I could feel her nipple harden under my touch. I moved my left hand back down to her panty line, drawing gentle circles upon her stomach going higher - and lower - with each circle.

"Dominique will kill me," she protested weakly. All the fear and frustration of the past few hours had eroded what self-control and self-respect she had, so she was so much putty in my hand - or so I told myself.

"Neither one of us can get in that much more trouble, now can we?" I whispered in her ear. My left hand rubbed against her gusset.

"Noooo," she emitted to no real purpose. She began gyrating her fleshy hips, coaxing my iron to exceedingly painful hardness.

"Pull your panties down," I rasped. "I want you here and now."

She fitted her thumbs into the side bands and wiggled them down her hips. I dipped my fingers into her snatch where she was already exceedingly creamy and wet. My right worked under her halter top and manipulated her breast flesh to flesh.

"I'm not a slut," she lamented.

"I bet you don't do White guys either," I taunted her. "Now bend over."

"Why are you doing this to me?" she whined even as she complied with my wishes. Riley even spread her legs apart and angled her hips so that her ass was thrust back. I pulled my left hand back to guide me between her labia. My cock slapped her cunt lips twice, then I shoved my member into her steamy cavern. My left hand grabbed her hips to give me traction. My right mauled her tit with greater vigor

She was loose, but no worse than Brandy was when we first had sex. I wasn't sure that initial session counted as love-making. I preferred the passion of our second bout much more. With Riley, I was fucking a woman who wanted to be fucked. I made two - three - four - slow intrusions, then slammed in as hard as I could. She gasped, then moaned like a wanton whore. The microwave chime sounded.

"Aaahh ... like that," she pleaded. I pulled out, then slammed in again. Soon her pussy was making these quaint squelching noises as I worked her over. The eighth or ninth time, I began to feel her vagina beguile extra sensations for my penis. Riley's back-thrusts picked up with their speed and energy. She was beating up my hips while I busted up her pussy. The microwave sounded off its warning once more that her food had been heated up. We didn't care.

"You like this?" I panted in her ear.

"God yes!" she exclaimed. "Fuck me - fuck me," she insisted. I had to grip her shoulder with my left hand to keep pace with her efforts. Whatever resistance she had put up against Chine must have been half-hearted because this chick certainly loved raw and nasty sex. I could barely keep up.

"Fuck yeah - fuck yeah - fuck yeah," she grunted louder and quicker. "Fuck ya - fuck yaaaaa," she screamed. She got her hand up to her mouth at the last second so there was still some hope that the whole house hadn't heard us. I moved my hand from her shoulder and grabbed a large handful of her coppery locks. I yanked her head back while I plunged in yet again. I was unrelenting and based on my performance earlier today, I was unlikely to get soft anytime soon.

"Red Wolf Bitch?" I taunted her. I punctuated that by taking my right hand off her breast and slapping her ass hard enough to leave an imprint.

"Yes-yes-yes," she exhaled with glee. "I'm your bitch."

"You like sex, don't you?" I continued to tease her. I also rained down more spanks; left, right then back to the left. The sound of my cupped hand was a counterpoint to the sound of her sweaty, meaty behind impacting my crotch.

"Love - love it," she huff.

"Like it rough?" 

"Yeeessss," she exhaled. 

"You were dressed to fuck Chine tonight, weren't you?"

"Yeessss ... oh ... nooo," she gulped.

"Did you fuck him today?"

"Nooo ... Noooo," she howled.

"I don't care," I chuckled. "I'm fucking you now." What I did know was that I wasn't breaking Mom's rules about where my cock should and shouldn't go. "Come here," I coaxed her up, making her take over more of the 'fucking' work.

I went back to her breasts, pushing her halter top over her left breast as well. Riley bent forward, placing one hand on the stove while the other began feeling her labia and my cock as it drove into her. I could feel her fingernails scratching along my cock as it pistoned into her. Absent the spanking, I opted to squeeze her tightly-aroused nipples, plucking and twisting them.

"Ga-ga-ga," she choked. "God yes-yes-yes - give it to me."

"Gladly," I ground out. She was pushing me to my limits. Fortunately for my ego, she was failing physically first. Her next orgasm was a deep, guttural series of grunts, punctuated by her tipping forward, her full weight falling on my arms.

"Ha ... ha ... ha," I puffed, struggling to regain control of my pulse and breathe. "How did that feel, Riley?"

She didn't respond for nearly a minute.

"What," she gulped, "brought that on?"

"Looking the way you do, with that body, you have to ask?"

"Oh ... ah ...," she giggled. "I was hoping to get that response tonight ... just not from a kid like you."

I pulled my cock back until my glans was the only part left inside. My next intrusion was more sedate.

"Now what?" she looked over her shoulder at me and gave a weary, sated smile.

"I believe you came her to eat something," I grinned. Riley looked up to the microwave then back to me. She rotated her big ass on my rod.

"Well, I can't eat unless you move," she gazed at me salaciously. I eased back enough for my cock to exit her snatch ... slowly, letting me drink in her lusty physique, her full-fluffy breasts and womanly curves. Her smile was positively lewd and shameless. Riley went to her knees, wrapped one hand around my cock while the other rested on my hip.

"Hey big boy," she addressed my juice-covered pecker. "Where have you been?" She finished up that little 'pep talk' by giving me the most promiscuous, slutty countenance I'd ever been confronted with. Her eyes were begging for my cock.

"What are you waiting for ... you cock-hungry slut," I stole Chine's words. Riley's smile grew, then she licked the base of my cockhead before sliding it along her lips. She had to twist her head sideways to accomplish that and still keep eye contact.

Her extended tongue slid along the underside of my cock from tip to scrotum. She then began licking each testicle in turn, sucking them into her puffed up cheeks. 

"Mu mich?" she slurped. I thought she was asking me if I liked it. I put my hands on either side of her head and guided her back on task. Her free hand reached around and began feeling up my buttock, testing its firmness.

Riley sucked on my nuts for a while longer. When I let out my first groan, her eyes lit up and she returned her attentions to my cock. This time, she opened her mouth wide and stuck my glans in. Her lips closed on it, then she moved her head back with a resounding 'pop'. I tried to maneuver her mouth back into action, which she willingly obliged.

This time she rolled her tongue along my length as it passed her lips. Riley murmured something so I relented on my hand pressure.

"Tasty," she purred. She licked her own juices before getting back to work pleasuring my nob. Riley knew her cock-sucking. My cockhead and about two inches of shaft went down her throat in one fluid gesture. She kept looking at me, judging my reactions to her actions.

Bobbing came next with the titillation of my penis rubbing against the back of her throat. At the same time, her tongue worked along the base and sides with great vigor. Next came the slurping, slorping and pre-gagging. She didn't relent, even when there was some resistance, taking more and more of me until her nose was buried in my pubs. At that moment we both knew I was being fucked by a more experienced woman than I'd ever had before.

Riley moved her head back until her mouth made another 'pop' and my cock sprang free. A line of saliva and pre-cum stretched from my tip to her lips. She caught it up with a fingertip then licked said finger clean.

"Time for some ribs," she smiled up at me.

"Motherfucker," I mumbled, but I let her stand.

Mind you, she didn't bother putting her panties back on. She turned around, retrieved her plate from the microwave and took the first rib into her lips. She did a wonderful reenactment of her earlier oral techniques with me.

"I'm not done with you yet," I promised.

"I was hoping you would say that," she snickered.

{Upstairs, at the same time}

Pssst ... pssst," Taliyah hissed at Mikhail. "Wake up."

"I'm awake," he replied, though his eyes remained closed.

"I can't believe Vlad is cheating on Brandy."

"Brandy keeps telling him that she's Darius' girl. How long is he supposed to hang around waiting for her to decide?" Mikhail questioned.

"I ... I warned her ... he had better not be fucking my Mother."

"Do you want me to go find out?" he finally opened his eyes. Taliyah's head and shoulders were visible from his horizontal form as she looked from the bed. She was still dressed in her cheerleader's uniform.

"Don't be stupid," she spat. "I'll go look."

"Yeah ... because that couldn't possibly turn out wrong," he chided her. 

"Damn it. Stop making sense. I prefer you being an insensitive jerk."

"Default setting - gotchya," he laughed softly. A few moment's passed.

"I can't hear anything," Taliyah closed her eyes and strained her hearing. Mikhail rolled up into a sitting position then stood.

"I'll be right back."

"I'm coming with you," she slid off the bed as well. Mikhail took in the girl-becoming-a-woman before him. Taliyah Malik was taller than Brandy by a good three inches. Her skin was mocha with a dark birthmark under her right breast. Her eyes were dark, intelligent and sparkled when she was angry, as he could well attest. 

Her lips were full and very little acne scared her face. Her thick, kinky black hair was pulled back in a woven ponytail with beads on the last few inches. Her arms were firm and strong, as were her legs (she'd punched and kicked him with real force), her breasts were hemispherical and pert, with long thin nipples that poked through her clothes when she was aroused. Her stomach was soft to the touch, curvy yet tightly muscled beneath the surface. She was a true athlete.

Her thighs and calves were muscular, as was her curvaceous ass which stuck out of its own accord and was sturdy to the touch. Mikhail knew. He'd played in depth with that ass just this afternoon ... and loved it. Her full, rich lips were upturned in her normal sneer.

"Where did your clothes go?" she hissed. Mikhail was down to his boxers.

"I don't sleep in my clothes. It is uncomfortable. Besides, we've seen each other naked, so what's the big deal?" he countered.

"It will be a really big deal if Momma finds you like this - in my room."

"I'll tell her you beat me up, took my clothes and made me sleep at the foot of your bed like a bad serf, or a good dog," he chuckled. She smacked his chest.

Together they went to her room door which had been left partially open when they fell asleep. Taliyah was still disappointed that she hadn't made more progress with the terribly annoying, yet definitely attractive youngest member of the Samsonov clan. He seemed immune to her status at school, or her mother's critical position in city government. He was the most exasperatingly independent man she'd ever met. She was also oddly drawn to his muscular frame, pale blonde hair and crystal blue eyes that reminded her of a raptor.

Taliyah couldn't quite accept that she was also drawn to the man's brutality. There was a barely contained beast dwelling behind those crystal orbs ... and she wanted to see more of it. She wanted to test it and she wanted to make that challenge because she sure that was exactly how he would see it - a one on one fight for dominance.

She couldn't gain dominance in Darius' power structure. The whole cheer squad had been reduced to play toys for the football team. Being a girl meant she was a vagina and little more despite all her personal ambitions. Brandy barely cared, she was so far under Darius' spell. Mikhail was different though. She'd heard about how he treated Kaja; how Kaja was part of his team and was treated as if her ambitions mattered.

It wasn't until the car ride home [last chapter] that Taliyah realized that Kaja hadn't hooked up with Mikhail yet. At first, she had thought Kaja was showing stunning wisdom for not dating one of the three most hated White boys in school. The hunting lodge had changed all that. He'd abused her, fought with her and taken control over her and she'd made him pay for every step ... and it had been fun. He didn't belittle her efforts nor insinuate that his success was anything more than a temporary victory for either side.

She'd verified that in the stables when she'd wailed on him good. Even his scary/crazy mother had thought Mikhail need a good thrashing. How he had ended up in her bedroom when the lights went out was still a mystery. Mikhail hadn't once looked at her funny, or tried anything. After their earlier tussle on the floor and the resulting make-out session, he'd rolled over and gone straight to bed. She'd heard Vlad come in, their whispered conversation and then they were alone.

"I'll go first," he said.

"Why do you ...," she got out before he interrupted.

"If I'm seen, I'll be dismissed. If you are seen, there could be a long explanation you don't want to hear," he told her. "I go first."

This time she didn't fight him on the point.

As they sneaked down the stairs, Taliyah could make out the noises were coming from the darkened kitchen. From the echoes, some serious screwing was going on. 

"Red Wolf Bitch?" they heard Vlad taunt her followed by the sound of a hand slapping an ass hard.

"Yes-yes-yes," she exhaled with glee. "I'm your bitch."

"Bitch," Taniyah whispered. "He's fucking Riley, that tramp." She was relieved it wasn't her mother ... it was the woman her dad had been cheating with now cheating with the man who was fucking Brandy silly ... which was confusing.

"We can go back now," Mikhail advised her. "Nothing to shock us, or make us want to stop them."

"You like sex, don't you?" Vlad continued to tease her. He was also raining down more spanks. The sound of his cupped hand was a counterpoint to the sounds of her sweaty, meaty behind impacting his crotch.




WMD Ch. 03



"Love - love it," Riley huff.

"What a slut," Taliyah seethed. "I hope he fucks her so hard she can't go to work tomorrow. I hope it hurts."

"Like it rough?" Vlad said.

"Of course she does, Bro," Mikhail said quietly. "Listen to her howl."

"Yeeessss," Riley exhaled. 

"You were dressed to fuck Chine tonight, weren't you?" Vlad led her along.

"Yeessss ... oh ... nooo," she gulped.

"Whore," Taliyah hissed yet again.

"Did you fuck him today?"

"I bet she did," Taliyah was getting steamed.

"Nooo ... Noooo," she howled.

"Lying cow," Taliyah grumbled.

"Let's go back upstairs," Mikhail gently tried to turn things around.

"I don't care," Vlad chuckled. "I'm fucking you now. Come here," I coaxed her along ~ out of sight of the two on the stairs.

Reluctantly, Taliyah let herself be corralled and taken back to her room.

"Ga-ga-ga," Riley choked. "God yes-yes-yes - give it to me."

Once inside, Taliyah began pacing angrily.

"He's fucking that sow," she grumbled. "He's fucking her good and that shit belongs to Brandy, not that cheating whore."

"He's fucking her so she won't be a BBC whore anymore," Mikhail said casually. "In the same way Brandy isn't Darius's pet bitch, Vlad is going to rip Riley apart and fix what ails her on the sexual front. Trust me. That is how it will work out."

"Trust you? You barely know anything about sex and women," she blasted him.

"Mom was a far bigger slut than anyone in this burgh and she knows all the tricks, lies and deceptions ... and she is confident that Vlad can get the job done."

"She's crazier than you are and that's saying something," she retorted.

Mikhail went back to the blanket and pillow he had on the floor, making ready to go back to sleep.

"That's what you are going to do?" Taliyah sounded bitter.

"What I plan to do is shut you up, fuck you, curl your toes and make you scream out my name while I force you into climax after climax," he said as he lowered himself to the pillow.

"I won't let you," she snarled.

"'Letting' wasn't part of the program, remember? You'll do it because you want to put me in my place and you think you can."

"Not likely," she groused. "You are never having sex with me again."

"That's okay. I'll have those precious memories to put me to sleep. The sweat pooling on your lower back, the muscles around your sphincter pulling back along my cock as I pulled out of you and then that sucking noise when I pushed back in. I owned your ass and that will never change."

"Son of a bitch," she snarled as she jumped on him. She was playing his game yet she was sure she could win it and shove her victory in his face. One of her knees hit the carpeted ground while the other drove painfully into his hip. Taliyah hauled back to slap his upraised left arm with her right. Her left hand landed on his right triceps, trying to keep him pinned down.

'Smack', came the first blow. The second one, he caught by his wrist and held tight. She shifted to her left, only to have that one snatched too. Foolishly, Taliyah went for the head butt, learning rapidly Mikhail had a head as hard as stone.

"Ow," she gasped. She was so distracted she missed him rising up and kissing her on the lips. He tried again, so she tried to bite him.

Taliyah kept struggling, but couldn't stop Mikhail from rolling them over so that he was on top. He paid for that advantage as he felt her stabbing her manicured fingernails into his right hand.

"Hrrrr..." he grumbled. He didn't let go, though. He tried to kiss her again and got a bitten lip for his troubles.

"Next time I'll bite off your tongue," Taliyah promised. She was also keeping her voice low so that this fight would remain just between the two of them.

"I'm willing to test that promise," he gave his best wolfish grin. Mikhail pressed his groin into hers. Taliyah had her legs around him, her ankles pressing into his ass. She was also dry humping his steel pole.

"Get the hell off of me," she glowered.

"Make me," he chuckled. Taliyah thrashed about, tried to bring his capturing hands within bite range and endeavored to buck him off with up thrusts of her hips - all to no avail. What she did accomplish was to get both of them very horny. Their quandary was Taliyah couldn't get him off of her and Mikhail couldn't further manipulate her unless he let go of an arm.

He let go of her left arm. She immediately slapped him with it, but that allowed Mikhail to roll them back over to where the painful leverage caused her to let go of her leg-lock around his hips. Mikhail also had a free hand. He used it to land a resounding smack on her clad bottom. A slap-for-spank exchange erupted between the two with Taliyah getting more turned on by the second. She knew he was getting into it.

She changed things up first, grabbing him by the chin.

"I am NOT your bitch, Boy," she taunted him. Mikhail's counter-ploy was to grab hold of one scrumptious ass cheek and give it a good squeeze.

"Yes you are," he laughed.

"I'm on top," she snarled.

"This gives me better access to your tits," he kept chortling. "I'm enjoying the view."

"I'm going to kill you," she seethed. Her hand dropped from his chin to his throat as she tried to throttle him. Mikhail's throat muscles flexed, giving her poor purchases. Mikhail took the opportunity to move his hand between the two cheeks and probe her anus through her shorts and panties.

"No you don't," she rumbled. "We are not doing that again," but her insistence sounded a bit weak, even to her ears.

"What are you saying?" he grew serious. "That was the best sex I ever had."

"I hope you enjoy the memories. That hurt and I'm ... stop that," she protested. Mikhail had moved his questing hand from outside the clothing to inside. He had a finger probing her sphincter in a flash.

Taliyah's hand went back to his jaw.

"I said stop that," she insisted at the same time she stopped trying to wiggle her ass away from the intrusion. Mik drew her higher up his body so that Taliyah's face was above his and her breasts were in his face. The real motive behind that action was revealed when he dipped his fingers further beneath her butt and penetrated her cunt with a finger.

"Oh, now you think you are going to get some of my pussy," she sneered. "Ain't happening. You had your chance this afternoon."

"Afraid you'll like it? Afraid you'll like it as much as you loved me forcing you this afternoon?" he teased her.

"Bitch ... I'll make you my Bitch, Mik. I don't need your dick," she countered.

"You know I like my Black Bitches quiet," he snorted. "You talk ..." Taliyah pressed her lips down on his, shoved her tongue between his teeth and waged war with his tongue before pulling back.

"You talk too much," she mocked him. Mikhail took his slick finger back to her puckered hole. This time he penetrated. Taliyah flinched, gasped then groaned.

"I hate you," she panted.

"I'm not particularly fond of you either," he grinned up at her.

"Liar," she huffed. "You are getting off on my body. I know your brother does."

"Vlad's got good taste in women," he radiated masculine charm. "I think mine is better."

"Damn right she is. This still doesn't mean I'm going to let you fuck me."

"You had better step up your game if you plan to stop me," he challenged her. Taliyah thrust down on his blood-filled tool and ground her vulva in. Mikhail could then switch up his hand so that his thumb was pressing into her bunghole and two fingers were pumping her twat. She was sticky-wet.

"Fuck you," she growled. She let go of his jaw, supported her weight with her free arm and propped her midsection up. That forced her shorts and panties down since Mikhail wouldn't release his finger-holds in her nether regions. Mikhail, sensing the change in her stratagem, let go of her right hand. Taliyah smirked down at him at the same time she shimmied out of her clothing. Mikhail quickly shed his boxers.

"Right pants pocket - condoms," he told her. Taliyah drew up short.

"When did you get them?"

"Vlad gave them to me," he answered. "I guess he keeps a supply around in case Brandy gets frisky." That was a carefully crafted lie. He knew they came from his mother. But telling Taliyah that would curtail his upcoming sexual romp.

"I'm on the pill."

"Do you trust it?"

"Your sperms not that strong," she countered.

"I'll have to give you a double ..." he got out.

"Shut up," she taunted him. "You talk too much. I like my white boys doing something else with their tongues."

"That's date three material," he chuckled.

"I'm not going to give you the choice."

"You talk too much. Less lip - more action."

She settled down on him, his cock pressed against his lower stomach while she wriggled over the base.

"I'm not sure I want to fuck you now," her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I don't do White boys." Mik shrugged. That flummoxed her, until he seized her lapse in caution to flip them back over, mounting her before she could push him off.

"Bastard," she grumbled. He still wasn't inside of her because his hands were too busy keeping her hands pinned over her head. That didn't stop him from humping her. When he went in for a kiss, she decided to get fierce instead of resisting. She chewed on his lower lip, twisted and wrestled with his tongue against his palate. They exchanged a soulful kiss that caused her to shiver from neck to tailbone.

Slowly, Taliyah's right leg worked its way up his left side until her knee passed her waist. She was now wide open and ready for some serious screwing. Mikhail released one of her hands and was promptly slapped. His hand went between them so he could line up his penis for penetration.

"I don't think so," she teased him. "This isn't going to happen."

With that declaration, Mikhail's cockhead rubbed up against her labia, teasing it from hood to perineum.

"Not my ass, you bastard," she glared.

"Fine, take off your shirt."

"Why should I do ... ah ... anything for you?"

"Woman, is it going to kill you to show me your tits again?" he complained.

"What is the magic word?" she taunted him.

"You are a sexy bitch," he rumbled.

"I was looking for 'please', but that will do," she snorted. Mikhail let go of her other hand allowing Taliyah to take off her top and bra together.

"Damn, those are some sweet ta-tas," he remarked.

"These?" she tantalized him by bringing her upper arms together, squeezing her bountiful mounds together and pushing them up.

"Yeah," Mikhail studied them.

"Get to licking," she demanded. Mikhail shot her a devilish look. He couldn't pump her and take in her boobies at the same time, so he had to slide down to take them both in. His suckling was ravenous, toothy and full of vigor. He not only lavished attention on her thick, dark brown nipples and areoles, he licked every inch of them, especially the bottom where she was salty with sweat. 

Quickly she was writhing beneath him. She released her breast augmentation to pull him in tighter by grabbing his ear and using it like a steering wheel. Her left hand went between them and began stroking his aching cock, giving it a brutal yank every time his teeth got too sharp against her tender flesh.

"Yeah ... wooo ... yeah ... nice. Rashaan won't do this for me," she cooed.

Mikhail took that insinuation of a comparison to smoothly transition his hand back to her flank, gripping and kneading her perfect, muscular buttock.

"Oooohhh ... ahahhh ... that's it ... yes ... this is ... so wrong. I ... hate you."

"Hate - love - fucking is fucking, woman," he answered. "You are sensual," they maneuvered him into her molten, slippery folds, "and I'm hot for you. That's enough for me."

"This isn't going ... to become a ... aaahhh ... habit," she chuffed.

"I don't think so," he rebounded. "I kind of like this and I'm faster than you."

"Next time ... oh yeah ... I'll rip your nuts ... aaahhh ... off," she swore.

"I'll ...ugh ... take that under ... (grunt) ... advisement," he countered. "You feeling fucking awesome ... I have to do this again."

"Nooo you won't," she groaned. Mikhail began to delve deep into her depths, swiveling his crotch to make sure his cock rubbed as much of her vagina as possible. The more he fucked into her, the more Taliyah rebounded. She'd also finally shut up. She was having the best sex of her short life. None of the gang-bangs and private sessions with Rashaan could compare. She didn't know how to handle this.

Slowly the looks Brandy gave Vlad made haunting sense. If Vlad could fuck as well as his brother ... that would explain why she didn't want to give that White boy up. Taliyah feared she could get used to this. She already found Mikhail intriguing - strong, vicious and combative - fearless. He didn't give a fuck about what anyone thought. He wasn't even worried about what his brothers thought and did.

She really liked that - him not giving a shit - living up to his own expectations and those alone. Even his scary/spooky crazy mother didn't hold him back. Mikhail's rod was caressing, massaging - loving every inch of her vaginal love box. 

"You are being awful quiet," he teased her.

"I thought you liked your Black bitches quiet, asshole," she shot back.

"I want to hear you scream," he laughed. Taliyah grabbed Mikhail's right shoulder and dug her fingernails in enough to cause him pain.

"How about you screaming, bastard?" she huffed. She was getting close and she took some of her erotic tension out on his flesh. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she covered her mouth and gave Mikhail the squirming and climax he wanted. He barely lasted seconds beyond her, his body tensing up as he drove into her harder and harder before his balls unleashed his torrents of cum.

Four - five - six times he erupted. They lay coupled together, both struggling for breathe, sweaty and exhausted.

"Get off me," she moaned. "You are heavy."

Mikhail snaked an arm underneath her then rolled over so that her weight was now on him.

"Oh, you think you are being clever," she griped. "I still hate you."

"I didn't fuck you to win you over. I fucked you because you are a cock-tease that I had to have. I could care less about your attitude," he zinged. She hit him on the chest. He laughed, so she hit him again. Finally Taliyah propped herself up, her elbows on his pectorals and her chin supported by her linked hands.

"Are you ever not a jerk?"

"I aim for consistency," he chuckled.

"I don't know how I'm going to put up with you," she mused.

"I imagine you will be constantly kicking my ass when I piss you off. That works for my brothers," he told her.

"Are you one of those masochist - a freaky jerk?"

"Not particularly. If you weren't so damn hot, I'd have dumped you by now."

"You are an infuriating ass," she sizzled. "Am I just a fuck toy for you?"

"I'm in your room in the middle of the night with your mother just down the hall ... yeah ... I'm so hard up for a screw that I'm putting up with all this fucked up shit," he remarked.

"A simple 'no' would suffice," she leaned in until they were nose to nose. Mikhail tilted his head slightly so he could lick her nose.

"Ewww ... now I have your slimy spit on my nose," she complained.

"You have another form of my bodily fluids in your cunt, Taliyah," he pointed out.

"You are about as romantic as a spit-cup [for chew tobacco]. Vlad gives a crap about Brandy. Why can't you give a damn about me?"

"Taliyah," Mik hesitated. "I'm sleeping on your God-damn floor. We are having sex on your God-damn floor and not your far more comfortable bed. If you are expecting sappy words, you are fucking the wrong Samsonov. You should have picked Alexander. He'd treat you like a lady."

"I would have, but he left," she lied. Alexander did nothing to engage her spirit and Mikhail resonated with her soul. Mikhail shrugged, rolled onto his side and let his penis slip out of her sex sleeve. She could feel some of his seed leaking out so she moved up, grabbed a Kleenex and cleaned herself off. She even took the precaution of hiding it beneath some other trash. There was no sense in having a fight with her Mother over her raping Mikhail on her bedroom floor.

She gathered up her panties and bra, putting them on while sitting on the edge of her bed. Mikhail took the break to retrieve his boxers. She wanted to lie down and try to order her thoughts about her Father - and Rashaan - and bitterly, about Mikhail. Mikhail took her by the hand and pulled her to his kneeling form.

"Lay down with me a bit," he demanded. She wanted to resist, except she was both physically and mentally tired.

Taliyah settled in by Mikhail's side. She rested in the crux of his arm, her head using his shoulder as a pillow. As sleep took her, she worried about what her Mother would say when she found them this way. She nodded off deciding she didn't care. Brandy had stolen her bit of happiness so why couldn't she seize some of her own?

Dominique leaned her back against the wall next to Taliyah's door, controlling her own breathing and recalling much of what had passed between her daughter and her enemy/lover. Woken up by the same erotic noises made by that slut, Riley, fucking that Samsonov boy, Dominique had stepped out into the hall just in time to see Taliyah leading Mikhail back into her room. 

She had listened to most of their exchange, twice coming to the verge of storming in, acting offended and throwing Mikhail out on his ear. Both times, Taliyah's feisty retorts caused her to pull up short and silently urge her daughter on, to dominate the son of Gayle Fonteneau and make him perform. Instead, she and Mikhail had given as good as they each got, coupled like they belonged together and matched each other sexually.

Now her daughter was cuddling on the floor with the son of her family's nemesis, softly snoring her way to post-coital bliss. Dominique was wet between the thighs and had an itch she couldn't scratch. Had she not been so furious with Chinedu, she would have called him. Instead, she was alone ... and then the noise from downstairs picked up again.

{Riley's Ass and Dominque's Pleasure}

I had been working over Riley's labia and clitoris while she attempted to eat her plateful of ribs. She was huffing and puffing as she ripped through the last three.

"Let's go to the sofa," I said then licked her fingers clean.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to do it one more time - as long as Dominique doesn't find out." 

I led her to the sofa. She was expecting to recline on the furniture while I had other plans.

I pushed her behind so that she fell over the arm rest. Riley giggled.

"You like my ass?"

"There is a lot of you to like and I have something special in mind," I informed her. I knelt behind her, ran two fingers up her inner thigh and delved back into her sloppy cunt. I began kissing each butt cheek, working my way into her crack. With my left hand still working over her vaginal canal, I opened up her buttock with my right.

Running my tongue from her sweet secretions to her anus brought forth wanton moaning and hip gyrations. I went back and forth for several minutes until I sensed her on the cusp. I rapidly pumped my fingers into her cunt, pressing up with all my dexterity while driving my tongue into her rectum. She jumped, groaned loudly then flopped back down on the sofa.

"Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh," she labored on and on until her teeth clenched and she began grunting loudly. Her eruption caused her whole plump body to vibrate and quiver. I punctuated her latest outburst with a resounded pop to the ass. That spurred her on to greater vocalizations. I had her going for over a minute until she lay utterly helpless to my predations.

I went back to her sphincter, drilling in one finger slowly to the second knuckle. When that became less constrained, I worked in a second. When I went for the third, she mumbled something I couldn't make out.




WMD Ch. 03



"What was that?" I inquired.

"I don't do anal," she pleaded.

"Chinedu already told Dominique and me that he did ... and you liked it," I deceived her.

"He did?" she hesitated then, "Oh - okay," and she submitted to my advances. I had to wonder why she lied to me. Did she not like it, or had she thought I would think less of her because of it? I worked her over with my three fingers until her anus relaxed. Next, I took it easy with my cock, tested her physical frontiers with my cock and her emotional waters with my efforts.

"Hmmmm," I rumbled as I worked my full length in at a steady pace. As I pulled out, I saw Dominique looking at us from the foyer. She must have just come down the stairs. I drove my cock back into Riley's butt while keeping eye contact with Dominique. I was kind of curious why she wasn't ripping us both a new asshole.

"You want this dick, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes ... I'm a slut," she sobbed.

"Hey, at least you are honest," I allowed. "And you are good at it too."

"Oh ... ummm ... thank you," she hiccupped. 

"You're welcome," I pounded her butt for a minute, silent except for Riley's gasps, grunts and moans. It was positively glove-like by this time and every thrust drove her farther into her own sensual euphoria. Hey, she really liked dick.

"So, what do you think of Dominique?" I surprised them both.

"I - huh - what?" she tried to order her thoughts.

"Is she a good boss?"

"Ya - yes," she panted.

"You find her sexy, don't you?" I tossed out there. This was one of the lessons I was supposed to use on Brandy, except the recipient of the sexy was Taliyah.

"I ... a little ..." she huffed. She was getting close so I slowed my pace.

"Have you ever brushed up against her ass - touched it?"

"Once ... well, a few times."

"Nice," I stroked her tramp stamp. "I bet is it luscious and warm to the touch. I bet she knows you do it, too."

"Really?" she gulped.

"Oh yeah," I looked Dominique's way. "She's got to be a sexual volcano. I bet she's got great, silky thighs too. I bet you'd like touching them."

"May - maybe ..."

"I'd go down on her if I had half a chance - if she didn't despise me," I led her on. "I bet she tastes like molasses." 

"I don't know. I guess so ... I've done girls before ... I kind of liked it," she murmured.

"Good for you," I gave her a light spank. "If you had to go down on Dominique to keep your job ... and if you promised to nut Chinedu the next time he propositioned you, would you?"

"You mean eat her out?" Riley looked over her shoulder. I gave her three quick pummelings to get her back on track.

"Yeah, tongues and fingers - really tear her up - to keep your job?"

"Yes - yes," she moaned.

"Yes, you'll fuck her, or yes, pound your butthole harder?" I teased her.

"Both!" she hissed loudly. "Tear me up!"

"Wish granted," I murmured. I dug my fingertips into her ample thighs and pulled her into each thrust. Her tunnel spasms pushed me to the edge and I shot first. My scolding semen caused her to rattle off like a steam kettle.

"Fu-fuck," she ground out from deep in her diaphragm. I bet she expelled every bit of air from her lungs. She was spent and relatively helpless.

"Well Dominique," I addressed the darkness, "do you want your apology?"

"What?" Riley mumbled. Dominique stepped out of the shadows fully into the room.

"What makes you think I'll participate in this farce - Vlad?" she regarded me brazenly. I could have sworn she removed a hand from inside her robe as she entered the room.

"Dominique," Riley groaned. "It wasn't me. He forced me."

"Yeah Girl, I saw how hard you were fighting him off," she glowered at her underling. "I heard you telling him how you would tongue my snatch to keep your fucking job. How much more of a slut can you be?"

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't know what I was saying."

"I'm tired of your 'sorry'," Dominique spat. She stormed over to Riley, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head up so they had eye contact. "I want to know what you are going to do to make it up to me!"

"I ... I ..." she sniveled.

"Vlad, get over here," Dom commanded. "Riley, clean him up. I don't want him going to sleep with a dirty cock."

"Whoa, don't I have a say in this?" I protested.

"She's made a mess of my arm rest. God knows what mess you made in the kitchen. You had better do what I say, Boy - right now!"

Well, I knew what side of the family Taliyah got her fight from. Dominique was bristling and ferocious ... and raunchy.

I stepped beside Riley's upraised head and presented her with my cock. Dominique didn't wait for her to reposition herself, instead grabbing her hair by the roots and guiding her mouth over my rod. Riley went straight for the suction with a healthy dose of tongue action.

"Mmmm - mmmm - mmmm - yummm," she muttered around my glans.

"Take it all, you whore," Dominique insisted. She pulled Riley's head toward my pelvis with her left hand while pushing me forward by the small of my back. Riley's gag-reflex proved to be virtually non-existent. I had the stimulation of my glans' edge rubbing against her throat as she swallowed my full length in one diligent effort. Saliva was drooling down her chin. By her efforts, my retiring rod found a new, though painful, life.

"Damn girl, you can choke down some snake," Dom gave grudging admiration. She pulled me all the way out so Riley could speak.

"Yes," she coughed up more spittle. "I love cock." Dom shoved my cock back down her throat.

"You had better be staying away from Chine's 'black snake' from here on out," she insisted. Riley nodded, partially in lust and partially out of fear.

I reached my left arm around and circled Dominique's waist. She arched an eyebrow my way. My hand then worked down toward her ass.

"Mind yourself ... Vlad," she cautioned me. I pressed her patience by patting her butt. She stopped looking at Riley and began staring me down. I refused to wilt, but I did deceive her momentarily by pulling my hand back.

She gave a sliver of a superior, smug smile, only to have it frozen by my undoing her robe tie. She tried to still me by her will alone. I wasn't intimidated by bitchy. I had a crazy mother to scare the crap out of me far more effectively - though I knew she loved me. Underneath her robe was a thigh-high, purple satin nightshirt that was tight around her healthy, rubenesque form.

Mom had given me the impression that coaxing a woman along could overcome initial frigidity. I pawed her bare, upper posterior without going for her cleft, or down to her thighs - keeping it sensual instead of overtly sexual. That kept Dominique from slamming a halt to my efforts. I was going with a game plan because I had no personal experience. Right on cue, Dominique took a deep breath and let the tension go from her shoulders.

I put my hand on the small of her back to hold her in place as I leaned in for a kiss.

"I'm a married woman," she stated firmly. I kissed her anyway, a butterfly-light affair. Her lips twitched upwards at the corner. I kissed her again, a bit stronger. Riley's slurping made a sexy counterpart to our playful interactions. Kiss three had my tongue tantalizing her lips with no response. The next one had her tongue coming out to play and the fifth one was rich, intense and left her panting.

"You are delusional if you think we are having intercourse," she promised.

"We'll see about that," I looked down on her. She didn't stop me from another French kiss and couldn't stop herself from a moan when my other hand came to rest on her stomach.

"Watch those hands," she defied me. Our bodies moved so that we wedged Riley's head between my crotch and Dominique's torso. That caught both women's attention and allowed me to cup Dom's left breast from beneath. "Careful now," she cautioned me again, but it turned out she was warning the wrong one. On her own initiative, Riley placed a hand on Dom's thigh and moved it up, under her nightshirt and began making a twisting motion.

Dominique huffed, shot a violent look to Riley without verbally stopping her. Seconds later, Riley withdrew her fingers. They were covered with fluid which she sucked off while still gobbling my cock.

"Mmmm ..." Riley giggled.

I gambled that I'd hit the 'tipping point'. My hand on the small of her back walked down, steering for her cleft. My first finger pushed right, my ring finger pushed left and my middle one went right down the middle.

"Mind that finger," she exhaled. I was. I didn't play with her anus, going right past it and into her vagina from behind. She was honey-thick and drenched. I leaned into her, covering my finger activity with more kissing, migrating from her lips to her neck. That allowed my three fingers to start gently penetrating her vulva and searching for her 'G-spot'.

"AH!" she yipped when I found it. Her right arm grabbed hold of my left bicep with an iron grip.

She began huffing and puffing and shivered when I felt Riley's fingers launch a return invasion. She tried to wedge another finger in while working her clit with a thumb. Next thing I knew, Dominique pulled my mouth up for another tongue-twisting kiss hungry with need.

"Highly neglected?" I whispered to her.

"Damn right," she grinned. Dom took her fingers out of Riley's hair, pushed the copper-headed girl's forehead away and grabbed my sloppy wet tool. She was squeezing and stroking in equal measure. We stayed that way with finger intrusions and a hand job going on all at once. Riley feebly pushed herself up and slid off the sofa's arm, falling back on wobbly feet.

I took things a step further by working my hand off her breast, down beneath the hem of her shirt and pulling it up. Dominique gave off a deep growl as she struggle to keep up with my advances. She answered my quest by shifting out of her robe and letting me pull off her shirt over her head. Pushing her on to the sofa was a given. I followed her down, went to my knees and slid right into her vagina. She was tighter than Brandy or Riley, which aided my diligent and determined efforts.

"Don't make me regret this," she grumbled. I pushed her left leg up and to the side so I could get easy access to her cunny. That put my weight on my arms. I was glad I worked out because I really needed that stamina now. Dominique put her hands on my shoulders, linking her fingers behind my head. We kept the kisses rolling on and on while I ramped up my action.

Her pussy made an incredibly humid, sloshing noise as I drove my cock home, pumping deep into her cunt. The harder I worked, the wetter she got and the more she moaned and hummed. I had to pace myself. It had been a long damn fucking day. I didn't have to wait too long, thankfully.

"Ooooohhhh ..." she howled. Dominique's legs trembled, her big, droopy boobs bounced and her stomach jiggled.

"Damn b - Vlad, who taught you to screw?"

"If you want more, turn around. My lower back is killing me," I leered at her. She weighed over the concession versus the promised reward.

"Don't get creative back there," she warned.

"Oh, that will come later," I pledged. She shot me an evil look as she turned around, her folded arms on the back of the sofa, her butt thrust out and her back bowed for easy access.

I slid back in. I was having that old sensation again - the ridges and crevices of her vaginal canal and cervix. She emoted pleasure. Her eyes shut and her head came to rest on her arms as she thrust her big ass back my way. It rippled as I penetrated her cunt. There were slight dimples over the surface of that beautiful physical feature.

"Oh - ah - oh," she kept murmured. She was no longer trying to keep quiet, or the pretense of being a lady. I couldn't easily reach around and play with her sway tits as tired as I was so I had a sinister insight.

I motioned to Riley, who was leaning against a chair to our side. She focused on me.

'Suck her breast', I mouthed. Riley shook her head. I repeated my request. Again, she refused. 'Do it, or else,' I threatened aloud. Riley caved and came my way. She fell to her knees, tilted her head and cupped Dominique's right tit. The matron's eyes remained shut. She must have thought it was me. All that changed when Riley pushed her body forward so she could take Dominique's nipple into her mouth.

"What?" Dominique jerked. "Riley, what do you think ..." she looked down at her underlining. Riley hesitated so I gave a stinging slap to the slut's ass. That got her back to suckling with a vengeance. "Vlad, don't think this makes everything okay," Dom gazed over her shoulder at me.

"If you really don't like it, make her stop," I suggested. Dominique glared at me. Riley's tongue was that damn good.

I went back to my piston strokes into her pussy. Within seconds, I felt Riley's fingers working over Dominique's nub and petting my cock and balls as they plunged in. The tightness of Dominique's vagina coupled with Riley's fingernails tantalizing my shaft drove me toward the edge.

"Grrrrr..." I snarled. Seconds later I began pumping seed into Dominique's moist womb. It didn't take long to exhaust my cum supply, or my penis to grow soft. Today had been way more fucking than I was used to, or prepared for. As I thought earlier, this was way off 'The Plan'. My eruption didn't stop Riley from working over Dom's pussy or suckling on her tit. A quarter of a minute later, Dominique gave off a squelched squeal and vibrated erotically. 

I fell back on my ass, exhausted, worn out and utterly spent. Riley sat back on her haunches while Dominique rolled over on her left side so she could examine us both. I imagined she was looking for sign of conceited conquest. Neither Riley nor I exhibited that delusion. We had all given our all this evening.

"Riley, get your ass to bed. Vlad, we need to talk," Dominique commanded with bated breathe. Two orgasms after such a stressful night had pressed her to her limit as well.

"Hold on a sec," I intervened. "Riley, get to lapping."

"What?" both women voiced their disbelief.

"Riley, you still owe Dominque an apology," I reminded them both. Riley shot Dominique a fearful look. The Black woman felt the power she held over her underling.

She scooted forward and opened her legs.

"I'm waiting," she glared. Riley went onto all fours and crawled between those chocolate thighs. She went to licking my cum from Dominique's snatch with gusto. I started out getting behind Riley and playing with her ass. I tested her gooey bunghole with my thumb while two fingers wiggled around her pussy.

"Don't fuck the bitch," Dominique commanded. "She's had enough pleasure for one night."

"That's hard to do," I let a fey light twinkle in my eyes. "She likes soft loving and rough sex. It ain't easy not making her happy."

"Riley, you really are a slut," Dominique ran her hands through those coppery locks. Riley nodded her head.

She also began twisting her tongue into a point and stabbing deeper into her mistress's vagina. Dominique grabbed a second handful of hair and ground Riley's face all over her cunt.

"That's it, Bitch. That's it," Dominique groaned.

"Like the taste of my semen?" I asked while I raked fingers down Riley's back from neck to tailbone.

"Num - num - num - num," she mumbled. "I like it a lot."

"What about my pussy juices, Whore?"

"Good. You are tasty," Riley smiled up at Dom, her face glistening with juices.

"What are you going to tell Chinedu the next time he comes on to you?"

"You two taste a whole lot better," Riley gave a feeble grin.

"Spank this slut," Dominique glared at me. I complied with two sharp, stinging blows to each buttocks. Riley squealed - with pleasure.

"Vlad, I am going to need you to keep this bitch in line," Dom demanded.

"I'm Brandy's guy ... if she chooses to dump Darius," I qualified.

"That's not likely to happen," Dom shook her head. I gave Riley's labia one last spank then sidled up to Dominique. I sat on the sofa and leaned in for a kiss. It got steamy real fast. Dominique really had been neglected, both sexually and romantically. She left one hand on Riley's head while running another hand through my hair. Gently, she guided my lips to her right tit. I suckled like a pro. The matron of the Malik clan rolled her head back and gave a deep-diaphragm moan. I began to pinch, twirl and pluck at her left tit. 

"Ah, ah, ah, ah - aaaahhhhhhh," she exhaled loudly. Undoubtedly the couple upstairs heard that. No one seemed to care.

"Enough," Dominique pushed Riley back on her thick haunches. "You too, Boy." I stopped sucking on her nipples while starting to stroke her stomach from pubic mount to the base of her mammary. Dominique positively purred. "Riley, go to bed. As I said, Vlad and I need to have a chat."

Riley staggered to her feet, wove her way to the kitchen and scampered off to the guest room.

"What am I going to do with you?" she tried to sound strict, but came across as hedonistic with two fingers twirling my hair.

"I'm Brandy's boyfriend. This was a one time thing," I shrugged. "I'm not going to darken your doorway late some night."

"I'm glad we've got that straight ... and before you think you are really Brandy's boyfriend, you had better take care of Darius. That buck isn't the kind to share, or give in to a boy like you." She meant 'White'. I doubted a Black student would have had the gall to attempt to steal Brandy away.

"I'll figure something out," I grinned. She snorted, got up, gathered her things and went off to bed.

In the morning, Taliyah and Mikhail woke me up. I took a towel bath, ate some cereal and the three of us went to pick up Brandy on our way to school. After all, Brandy had a decision to make if we were going to be an item. I should have been looking at the big picture instead of my own personal desires. We got sloppy and would pay for it.

{Fonteneau House in the morning}

Andrea Blanchard woke up with the smell of coffee assaulting her nostrils. It took her a few muddled seconds to recall what had happened to her last night. She had been drinking and talking with Gayle Samsonov and Bebe, the stable hand. She'd loosened up, talked about music, college and fantasy beach vacations. Andrea loved the Gulf Coast beaches and had spent all of her college Spring Break at one resort or another.

"What ... what ... where am I?" she sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around. Her ocular orbs quickly latched onto Gayle's eyes.

"Good morning, Andrea," she pushed a steaming cup of coffee her way. "We all drank a bit too much last night. You fell asleep on the sofa so my husband brought you to the guest room and I undressed you and put you in one of my husband's dress shirts. It is clean."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I'm not normally ..." she babbled.

"Don't you worry about it," Gayle smiled warmly ~ motherly. "I also took the liberty of going by your place earlier and picking out some clothes for you along with your toiletries. I hope you don't mind."

"You went into my house?" Andrea paled. She couldn't remember how many liquor bottles haphazardly decorated the place.

"Yes. You need a maid. Anita and I will go over today and clean it up while you are at school."

"You don't need to do that," she squeaked.

"Oh, it won't be a problem. I'm having Mr. Cobb's son change all the locks anyway. Yours are old and you never know who might have had a key before you moved in."

"Ah ..." Andrea was swept up by events. Her mind was a whirl. Why was Gayle doing this for her? Why had Alexander invited her over for dinner?

"Drink up," Gayle urged her. "You can come by after school and get your new keys. That will give us an excuse to have a BBQ."

"You don't have to ..." she blathered on.

"Of course we don't have to, Andrea. We want to. Consider us just being neighborly," Gayle comforted her. "I'll leave you to get dressed. The bathroom is down on the left. Breakfast is in twenty-five minutes if you feel like taking a shower. Good morning now," and she made to leave.




WMD Ch. 03



"Thank you," Andrea managed weakly. Gayle shot her one more happy look then was gone.

Andrea took in her circumstances. She was in an old-fashioned, four-poster, queen-sized bed. At the foot, clothes had been laid out and there was her travel back as well. She checked herself. She was in a nice, pressed her white dress shirt half buttoned up. Her bra was gone, but she still had on her panties on. She shivered at the thought of Gayle striping her down while she was passed out. What must the lady think of her?

There was nothing she could do about it now, she decided. A shower felt like a good idea as it would help her pull her thoughts together. The water was hot and the soap was lavender. Andrea used her own shampoo. She dried off with fluffy, white terry cloth towels and hot-footed it back to her room, dressed and made it downstairs in time to gather around the table for the morning meal.

"Is there anything I can do?" she offered.

"Not today," Alexander grinned. "Mikhail should have been here to help me, but he had a late night, so I kept it simple - bacon, cantaloupe, French toast and grits. I'm still not sure what a grit is, but Kamika swears by them."

"I think it is corn meal," Andrea offered.

"It is filling," Mr./Deputy Samsonov spoke. He had a very deep, serene voice. She couldn't recall hearing it before. Once more she was caught up in the family atmosphere as Gustavo and Isabo got ready for school, Gayle went over the schedules of the various staff and her husband, who nodded. This time Andrea pitched in and helped Consuela wash the breakfast dishes. She even got to further brush up her Spanish skills.

"Have a good day at school, you two," Gayle said to her son and guest. For the first time in over a year, Andrea didn't have to take a stiff shot of vodka to start off the school day. She still was apprehensive because she didn't believe the school dynamic had changed. There would still be the looks, the knowing gleams in their eyes, thinking about what they would be doing to her later. Instead of that gauntlet, Alexander met her when she pulled into her parking space and walked her to her class. They chatted about the day's assignment as if they were nothing more than student and teacher. It felt ... hopeful.

Unfortunately, Alexander had forgotten one of his Mom's initial pieces of advice - stick close to your brothers. Walking to his home room he found Darius and seven other big Black characters waiting for him. A quick look over his shoulder revealed three more had been stalking him.

"Alexander, right?" Darius grinned. "I wish you were Vlad, but his time will come." He looked to his boys. "Get him."

Darius had a football game and couldn't risk police action so he left the beat down to ten of his 'friends'. Was this public? Yeah - so? This was Darius' school, the Principle was clueless and the coach and Vice-Principle were in his corner. What he hadn't counted on was the fury of Alexander. He put his boys in a world of pain and because of that, his beating was far worse than Darius had originally intended. As he lay on the ground, bloody, curled up and groaning, his attackers spit on him then made their way to their classes. No one had stepped forward to help Alex.

{Acceleration}

Brandy was still working through as many words as she could because she was afraid to tell me she hadn't decided a damn thing about the Vlad-Brandy-Darius triangle when we drove into the school parking lot. Mikhail was darkly amused while Taliyah was pissed with her friend. Sometime in the past sixteen hours, she had done a complete three-sixty on what was best for Brandy.

In my opinion, a long-running resentment of Darius had boiled to the surface. Darius had chosen Brandy, not her. Then, he had degraded her childhood friend, and the Cheer Squad, into property - cum dumpsters. Until the arrival of me and my brothers, voicing her discontent was worst then pointless. I was counterproductive to her precarious social status. Now ... now she had options.

"Trouble," Mikhail muttered to me. I had been distracted by Brandy's blubbering and excuses so I had missed the plethora of lookouts waiting for us. This was bad news. I had to get out so that Mikhail could exit the car too. Brandy was followed by Taliyah on the other side. I gave Alexander a quick call to warn him of the situation. It took him several rings to respond.

"Brother," he mumbled. "Got my ass kicked outside of Ms. Blanchard's room. I think I'm ... busted up." He sounded really bad.

"We are on our way," I told him.

"Be careful. Darius is out to finish us off," he warned me through clenched teeth.

I weighed my response. I decided to call Mom then 9-1-1. Mom gave me an odd directive, which made sense in retrospect.

So I began with, "Brandy, you and Taliyah need to distance yourself from us. Darius had jumped Alexander so we can expect the same treatment," and they knew it was a command. "Mikhail, let's go." By the reaction of our school mates, they either knew what was going on, or knew something unknown had gone wrong. It wasn't like the whole school was wired to hate us. They weren't. The important people did and that was all that mattered to most of them.

"Vlad?" Brandy gulped.

"Vlad, I've got this," Taliyah said. "Brandy, let's take a long walk around the parking lot while the men take care of business."

"Vlad?" Brandy repeated. "You don't have to do this. Go home."

"Alexander is inside. We can't leave him there and they know that. They are planning on it."

"Bye," she said in a small voice. Clearly she believed I was done for. Mikhail and I made a bee-line for Ms. Blanchard's room. Before we got inside, I had Mikhail surreptitiously give me his wallet. As we expected, Darius had put a wall of Black between us and our brother. We kept up our forward progress, took our beatings as we shoved our way through and kept our mouths shut. I imagine Darius was hoping for a grand melee where he could surround us and beat us up. Maybe he hoped we'd start whaling away.

He had no clue how cold and emotion-free the Samsonovs will could be. As violently inclined as Mikhail was, he loved us much, much more. Getting bogged down in a pointless brawl wouldn't do Alexander any good. We had to get to him before Darius' crowd came around for a second beating. When we got to him, Kaelyne and Victoria were kneeling beside him, dabbing his cuts with wet Kleenex. 

"How bad do I look?" Alexander tried to laugh. His sides were in too much pain. From experience with brutal wounds, I suspected that he had cracked, or broken ribs. He certainly had collected numerous bruises and cuts.

"Kaelyne -Vicky - you need to get out of here," I stated. "They will be coming for anyone who hangs out with us next. I can't protect you right now."

"I'm not afraid anymore," Kaelyne protested. I had already decided that Vicky was somewhat unhinged. Kaelyne should have known better.

"You should be. They might very well rape you two. Darius is certain that he is bulletproof."

I knelt beside my brother and deftly switched his wallet with Mikhail's. 

That was our new tactic. Alexander had made inroads with Ms. Blanchard and Mom didn't want to toss her back to the wolves, so one of us had to stick close to her - had to pretend to be Alexander. I had to stay near Brandy so that left our youngest twin. Just as important, we were not to utter one threat, one promise of vengeance, or even an overt display that we had been deeply wounded.

To Mikhail and I, that meant justice was coming down the pipeline in a big way. Mom wasn't an 'eye for an eye' type of woman. You plucked out her eye, or the eye of someone she loved, she would cut off your damn head. Until that moment, Darius had been an obstacle to Mom's desires, just a player we had to remove to enact her greater plan. A healthy dose of humility was our goal.

She hadn't planned to destroy him. Alexander's beating changed that in her ... and us - his triplet brothers. In a way, we Samsonovs had been operating under the delusion that there were still some rules both sides had to cleave to. Darius had clarified that for us. Paraphrasing an old movie, he had sent one of us to the hospital, so we were sending someone(s) to the morgue.

We weren't going to murder anyone. That was an extreme that Mikhail and I wouldn't go for. In a way, what Mom wanted was much worse ~ she wanted to make an object lesson out of our chief tormentor. In our current dilemma, all we could do was stick by our sides until our parents and EMT's arrived. Mom and Dad made it first. Mom had waited in the parking lot for him because she didn't want to go into "kill the first jackass who threatened her" mode, she was that mad.

Dad was an island of calm. A few of Darius' hardest characters tried to harass him to no avail. He knew how to move through a crowd without overtly manhandling them. When they tried, those few were confronted with his in depth expertise and indomitable strength. The disrespect they showed Mom was even worse. How she managed not to murder anyone was a mystery to me.

I should have known better. Every man who retarded their progress, or touched her, she took their picture as she gave them a cruel, heartless smile. The smart ones realized they had just pissed off a borderline psychotic. Most of them simply saw her as a bigoted old White chick.

Around Alexander's body, Dad made the student body give them space. He didn't ask Alexander what had happened. At the moment he wasn't my Father. He was Senior Deputy Sheriff Nikolay Samsonov and the site of his son's beating was a crime scene. My paternal parent wasn't without sympathy. He was a believer and order. Being our Father meant he had a conflict of interest when seeking justice for us, so he waited for the closest deputy to arrive. 

The EMT's arrived the same time our Principal did (no one had bothered to clue him on the incident earlier). He started to disperse the students. Dad stopped him. Some of these people were witnesses. Two other deputies arrived - neither one current enemies. Big Bob showed up as they rolled Alexander - now Mikhail - out. He had Dad escort mom to the hospital. The Sheriff would be by to take Mikhail's statement later.

We finally were dispersed to our 1st period, having missed homeroom. Mikhail and I detoured to Ms. Blanchard's class first. A few of the 'fellas' had stopped by to tell her about Alexander's demise. We came by to rectify any misconceptions. Nothing had changed. 'Alexander' would be showing up and escorting her home as planned.

"But you are not Alexander," she whined. "He's been ... because of me."

"That doesn't matter," Mikhail rumbled. "Alexander told them the shit stops here and that hasn't changed."

"They won't stop coming," she shook her head.

"Leave that to us," I assured her.

"Now there are only two of you," she reminded us.

Mikhail laughed.

"You've got it wrong. Now there are three of us and Mom is far more vicious than Alexander could ever be."

"They put her oldest boy in the hospital," I added. "That was a mistake whose depth they can't even begin to comprehend. Trust us."

"Okay," she said in a fearful voice.

Getting to our classes was eased by us being late. My teacher declared me 'tardy' despite my protestations that my brother had just been taken to the hospital. A few of my Black classmates snickered over that. 'Alexander' was given a 'pass' by his far more understanding teacher. That teacher was one of the 'haters', but Mikhail figured that hospitalizing one of us had gone way overboard in that man's eyes.

That wasn't the only sign that things had changed. Darius and his crowd were prepping for the next attack. The rest of the school ... they sensed something terrible was on the horizon. Our lack of response was a warning sign all its own. We weren't cringing, blustering, or glowering. Vicky said we were the 'eye of the storm' and wanted in on whatever vengeance we had planned.

We told her we didn't have one. At lunch, Taliyah was torn up at first because she thought that Darius and Rashaan had Alexander beaten up over her. They'd even taunted her about it between classes, warning that worse was in store for her and Brandy at lunch. Those two women had gotten a measure of revenge by changing the location of the Cheer Squads 'lunch meeting'/gangbang, then forgotten to inform the football team of the change of venue.

Darius came looking shortly after the fact. The other eight members of the Cheer Squad looked perplexed. Had Brandy not humiliated him (by dissing his BBC), he might have not decided to assume the whole group was in on this policy of denial.

"Brandy, get your ass over here," Darius seethed.

"Taliyah, you had best correct yourself," Rashaan added. A few other players who pretended they were BF/GF with a cheerleader added to the commotion.

"No," I stood up and confronted him. He was looking for something more. 'Alexander' took up a position on the far side of the cheerleaders. People were clearing out the space between the football team and us.

"Brandy," Darius stressed his authority. She was wavering. Fortunately for us, Taliyah was not.

"Back off you Mother-fucker," she screamed. 

"Taliyah?" Rashaan mumbled.

"You really want to be on their side?" Darius' eyes narrowed.

"I want to kick you and your fellow cowards' asses," she seethed. Darius shot Rashaan a mocking glance, shaming him. His 'woman' was getting mouthy.

"Taliyah," Rashaan asserted himself. "You are asking for a world of trouble."

"What?" she spat back. "How many bruthas are you going to bring when you try to shut me up ... cause I know you aren't man enough to do it yourself."

"Bitch," he stepped forward. I tried to move to her - Darius interposed himself. Mikhail had three guys on his flank so any move he made would put him in a nest of trouble.

Rashaan grabbed her arm. My past twenty-four hours around that girl taught me that was a mistake. I didn't know if Rashaan was slower than Mikhail, or just caught off guard. Her slap resonated across the cafeteria. Before he could respond, she put a knee into his crotch, doubling him over. Multiply guys winced at the power of that nutting. Rashaan hissed like a punctured balloon and slowly slumped to the ground.

Darius decided that was the indicator for the final showdown and settling of accounts. Kaelyne kicking a chair into his path was unexpected by both of us. Darius was far quicker on his feet than Rashaan. He was able to jump back before he could get clipped. The mob was so dependent on Darius for leadership that they froze up when his charge was truncated. Kaelyne had saved a whole lot of people a whole lot of pain.

"I'm done with you," Taliyah sneered. "If you had wanted to be a real man, you would have fought Mikhail one on one, not like a pack of chicken shit jocks." There was another hush and a 'no she didn't'.

"Brandy, get the fuck over here," Darius glowered.

"I'm ... I'm with Taliyah," her voice wavered. "What you did was wrong. I thought you would be more of a man about this."

"You'll pay for that," he promised.

"Shut up. You are done. Brandy is with me now," I challenged him. "I once offered you the opportunity to settle this like a man. You declined and now the whole school sees you for what you really are - a big, Black narcissist who doesn't care about anyone, but yourself."

There was a third pause in the murmuring.

"I don't think the football team knows what a narcissist is?" Kaelyne said in a low voice. Brandy let out a hysterical giggle.

"Samsonov!" the coach bellowed from across the room.

"Which one of us?" 'Alexander' shot back.

"Both of you," he growled.

"No," we said in unison. 

"What?" he blustered. We were screwed no matter what we did.

"I need them to move some things in my class," Ms. Blanchard spoke up from behind him. Alexander - the real Alexander - would have been so proud.

"Get some other boys," Coach spun on her. She began to wilt.

"Coach Thomas," a voice behind Ms. Blanchard emoted softly, "you are getting on my last damn nerve."

"This ain't your school, Fonteneau," he turned on Mom.

"My boy says you were one of the people that beat him up. I'm here to let the Principal know. On a personal level, I'm suing you and the school for what happened."

"I didn't do nothing," he groused.

"Funny, the only one who claims to have witnessed my son's beating is my son," she purred like a Mamma Tiger stalking her prey. "I may be a Samsonov now, but I still have all that Fonteneau fortune to fight that court battle with. One more mishap for my other two boys, I'm going to have the best law firm in Little Rock crawl so far up your rectum that they know what you are going to eat before you bite into it."

"I'm not afraid of you," he puffed himself up.

"Really? None of these cases will take place in Davis County, Tobias (the coach). The previous school principal assaulted me, I have three sworn complaints against the Kingston PD filed with the Arkansas State Police, and a lawsuit pending against this school and the school board. A change of jurisdiction is a given. I'll be dragging you down to Little Rock to settle this mess."

"You are lying," he gulped.

"Test me," Mom sizzled. I still couldn't see her over the crowd, but I knew those steely eyes were boring thru his soul. He might not have been guilty of beating up Alexander yet he was guilty of so much more that he was already rotten to the core. Everyone knew he had given his tacit approval for the beating of a student theoretically under his care.

As an educator, he was sworn to better the lives of his charges, not use them for his own aggrandizement. No matter how entitled he felt he was, he knew the outside world wouldn't see it that way. Worse, he knew, deep down, he could have done so much better for his students. Sportsmanship, grades and fraternity were all his to dispense. Instead ...

"Darius," Coach Thomas called out. "You and I need to have a chat."

Darius turned his back on me and walked over to the Coach. Undoubtedly they were going to have a planning session. Alexander's fall had turned out to be a mixed blessing. Now the Sheriff's department had their eye on the place. Big Bob himself was chatting with the Principal and was inviting the man over for dinner. Big Bob was getting involved. It would take a few weeks before it became 'race-based harassment.

"Vlad," Brandy hugged my left arm tightly. "Prince, how bad is this going to be?"

That was unlooked for by multiple people. Two linemen retrieved Rashaan before the team made their departure.

"Brandy, take care of the Cheer Squad. If the team gets their hands on them, there is going to be some serious suffering. I'll be okay," I smiled down at her.

Taliyah gave me a thumbs-up before joining with Brandy. Mikhail told me later that she gave him a wink. After all, she knew that it was Alexander in the hospital, not her 'man' yet she had played her outrage so well. I'd almost been convinced. I was sure she'd made an impression on Rashaan ... and Darius. They rounded up the Cheer Squad and the arguments and accusations began. The majority of their squad-mates didn't mind being BBC cum-sluts. That Taliyah and Brandy had broken the spell was seemingly impossible for them to grasp.

As it turned out, with Taliyah giving Brandy some spine, Brandy was able to work her charismatic magic on the others to make them agree to a new program. Lunch 'workouts' were a thing of the past, as were after-scrimmage play times. From this point forward, the girls would be driving themselves to and from away-games - no more communal bus rides. To stress their point, Taliyah only had to point at Mikhail/Alexander's beating to show them how out of hand things had gotten.




WMD Ch. 03



Darius' opening offensive had backfired in more than one way. I was sure he only saw this rebellion as a temporary thing he could soon correct. After all, he had blackmail material, his dominant mystique and his super-impressive BBC that would bring any woman to heel. His only concern was how much hell to put Brandy through before he disposed of her in one colossal gang-bang then dumping her mind-broken slut body on Big Bob's stoop. It was the 'asshole' thing to do.

The rest of the day was still torturous. I developed several bruises and scrapes. Darius was still going with his full-court press to wear us down to the point we lashed out ~ suddenly there would be dozens of witnesses to our infraction. To add to our problems, Kaelyne also became a target of their aggression. I was as surprised as anyone when I learned she had been sent to the Vice Principal's office.

Some muttonhead had grabbed her tit in the hallway between classes. She stabbed him in the face with a metal mechanical pencil while screaming 'rape' at the top of her lungs. This was not the 'Bad Ole Days'. Big Bob was keeping his eyes on the place and Principal Jean-Georges wasn't that 'Fat Old Bastard'. The 'assailant' had six inches and a hundred pounds on Kaelyne so the idea that she randomly attacked him was ludicrous.

From what I heard, Big Bob was in a downright arctic mood too. Only later did Mom tell me she'd shown him the video of that first night at the lake ... bukkake Brandy, Clarence getting some, and the general degradation handed out. Big Bob turned out to be NOTHING like my Dad. Mom had to hold him back from going all 'redneck' on Darius and his crew. What did she offer?

Revenge ... at the hands of the Samsonov's. Dad could never find out. Big Bob was okay with that - bending the law to the point of breaking, covering up a crime and inventing evidence as needed to make sure that the crime would go unsolved - all those evils were absolved by the wickedness visited upon his daughter. Even then Mom had to promise an epic ass-whooping to keep him in line. 'How soon?' he had asked. Mom asked him if 'Alexander', Taliyah, Brandy and I could spend the night at his place Friday night after the game.

"No problem," he grinned savagely.

That afternoon we had to set some of Ms. Blanchard's students straight about how the wrong Samsonov had been beaten up and how Ms. Blanchard had a permanent escort to and from school for the foreseeable future. I had to admit, beating the crap out of the five of them felt good. Mikhail was positively euphoric. Big Bob had a reliable deputy hanging around the football team after school so that the Cheer Squad could go and come unmolested.

Friday was more of the same - running the gauntlet between classes, dealing with collateral damage - Kaelyne was beaten up by some Black girls in the restroom - Vicky got more of the same when she tried to rescue her - and general crap at lunch. After lunch we were expecting a last, major push - some effort to remove us from the picture before the football game, leaving Brandy and Taliyah vulnerable far from home.

It didn't work out that way. As lunch ended, the Brothers Samsonov, Kaelyne, (Vicky simply cut class) and the cheerleaders were all requested in the Principal's office. From there we were handed off to my Mom's tender loving care. See, she'd rented two luxurious vans for the team to be taken to the game, but we had to leave early to pick them up. Darius had fucked with the wrong Samsonov alright. Mom was a freaking psychic, or a satanic prophet.

The game was the standard beat down. We won 30-14. Dad, currently off-duty, helped Mom shepherd the now horny cheerleaders off the field after the final play. I caught Darius glaring hate my way. He was counting on our inevitable defeat. What happened instead was indeed inevitable. Rattlesnakes that bit Mom, died. Killer whales turned away out of common courtesy shown to apex predators. Ten minutes alone in a room with my Mom had hardcore 'Lifers' calling their Mommas begging forgiveness ... and I was assured that Theo was even scarier.

After the game, we drove all the cheerleaders home, deposited the vans at our house, then Brandy, Taliyah, Mikhail and us went over to Big Bob's house. The girls grew sleepy, so Taliyah called her mother and told her she was spending the night at Brandy's. She didn't mention us being there. It was okay. The girls and Big Bob nodded off soon enough. Ground up sleeping pills in their drinks will do that.

At nine o'clock, I woke up Big Bob from his recliner and suggested he go to bed. After he left, I erased the pre-recorded TiVo he'd unwittingly been watching, changed the clocks back to the real time - midnight - and then joined Mikhail on floor of Brandy's bedroom.

"Did you cut Big Bob's phone back on?" he asked. With the scope of the disaster we had enacted, he was bound to be called in.

"Yeah. Alibi established," I yawned.

My post-combat adrenaline rush was still keeping me awake. Twenty-three minutes later, Big Bob knocked on the door before coming in.

"Daddy?" Brandy rose up on her elbow and rubbed her eyes.

"Just checking up on you," he scanned the room. "Taliyah - boys ..."

"Is there a problem?" Brandy pouted.

"It seems there was a big fight at school and some boys got really hurt," he shot Mikhail and I a curious look. 

"Sorry we missed it," Mikhail snorted.

"Vladimir, step outside and talk to me a second," Big Bob motioned. I complied. It seemed prudent at the time. Once in the hall, he shut the door.

"This didn't have anything to do with you, or your brother, did it?"

"What happened when?" I tilted my head. Big Bob chuckled.

"Roughly nine o'clock tonight," he grinned.

"As I recall, I went downstairs for a soda around nine, saw you asleep in your chair and suggested you go to bed," I kept a straight face.

"I would have helped," he whispered.

"With what, Sir?" I wondered. He looked at me steadily. Dad would have known something was up - seeking the truth was in his genetics. Big Bob ... was as a diligent public servant who wove the delicate balance between law & order versus what was best for the public welfare. He just nodded, gave another chuckle then left.

Over breakfast the next morning, Big Bob gave us the 411 on what had happened. Between nine o'clock and nine-ten last night, Darius and six other football players had been drinking in the parking lot after the bus ride back to school when two (maybe three) armed and armored assailants ambushed them. The attackers had been wielding big sticks/staves and proceeded to beat the seven students into unconsciousness.

Darius had gotten the worst of it. Both of his knees were shattered. He was already being transferred from Davis Memorial Hospital to the one attached to the University of Arkansas Sports Medicine program. Even with that, the doctor at the hospital worried that the young athlete would ever walk again, much less run. Any hope of a career in football was gone. Even if he made a full recovery, it would take years. By that time ... a college scholarship followed by some time in the NFL was a distant, impossible dream.

My brother and I were immediate suspects except we had three witnesses to say we were otherwise occupied. The key one was Sheriff Big Bob Carson's himself. He recalled the time as well as what was on TV when I woke him up.

Who else could it have been? Darius and the rest of Davis High's football team had spent all last season and the start of this season building up a huge roster of teams who hated their guts. Enough to hurt them? Darius' buddies had sidelined a fair number of student-athletes in their time. It could be drug related too. Darius' big brother was a known local drug figure.

A peculiar aspect of the crime was that the security cameras around the crime scene had been knocked out with an air rifle while we were all at the game out of town - I had no idea that Kaelyne was that good a shot. There was no video evidence of the crime and, unless you believed in a massive conspiracy, it pretty much cleared the Samsonov's (Dad had been with us at the game and 'Mikhail' had been in the hospital ~ where people unknown/Darius had put him).

Mom's alibi didn't start until she was seen by my Dad around 9:45 that night. She'd gone to visit 'Mikhail' at the hospital (he would be coming home this morning) then gone for a walk on the property. The Kingston PD had launched a raid on the house despite the crime not happening in their jurisdiction. They did illegally cross into county land, yet didn't find any incriminating evidence. Phineas Cobb III had taken care of that for her.

A five person (me, Mikhail, Mom, Kaelyne and Mr. Cobb) conspiracy had given Darius far more retribution than he could have possibly considered. Mom had insisted that we destroy his legs, thus ending his most potent weapon in the BBC arsenal - his status as a sports star. His dominant shadow would no longer cast itself on the halls of our school.

Had he not put Alexander in the hospital ...

But he did. Threatening my brother's life had cost him his future. The most insidious part of Mom's plan was that whatever the Black community of Kingston thought, they would never be sure it was the Samsonov's behind it. We had never verbally threatened anybody over what happened to 'Mikhail/Alexander'.

To believe we did it was to accept we had some sort of serious grievance. We did. Everyone knew we did yet they had denied the crime when it happened and were now trapped in that denial. In the investigation of the beating, the name 'Darius' had never come up. In fact, 'Mikhail/Alexander' hadn't named anyone, not even the coach. Mom had bluffed about that.

Publically, if we had any issues to work out, it would have been with the coach and he was just fine - not a scratch on him.

None of that stopped the Kingston PD from stepping up the pressure on the Samsonovs. It didn't stop the Mayor from calling in the State Police to take over the investigation. We weren't sure on what grounds it was being requested. After all, her talk with me about Darius had happened under circumstances she definitely didn't want to make public. Dad wasn't part of either investigation. Big Bob being our alibi didn't automatically exclude him.

The outside investigators came by Bob's on Sunday to talk with him about it and he'd agreed on a concurrent investigation. The biggest question for the men (women actually) from Little Rock was why did anyone think it was 'Alexander' and I. What was our motive? Brandy had dumped Darius to be with me, so why would I want to punish him over that fact? Brandy hadn't been publically, or privately, threatened by him.

'Alexander' and I? We Samsonov boys were good kids, making good grades with no recorded history of violence of any kind, neither in Arkansas, or Alaska. I hadn't liked Darius, but that hardly made me, or 'Alexander', unique. Most of the White student body hated his guts - after the fact. The showdown last Thursday? The only one who committed violence was the mayor's daughter on her former boyfriend ... who wasn't among those hospitalized.

Rashaan had been saved punishment because his teammates so shamed on the bus ride back to Davis H.S. he'd left early. Had he been wise, he would have thanked Taliyah for that accident of fate. On the plus side for that cocksucker, he was now the head of the football team as well as its star player.

The two showdowns in Ms. Blanchard's class? Those students would have to explain why it had happened, thus what they had been up to over the past few years. That was sexual assault, rape and blackmail and taking that wrap to avenge Darius wasn't in them. The beating up of the kids around Shaquille? Precisely what had those seven been up to jumping our basketball teammate anyway? 

The carnage on the basketball court? That would imply one of the player confessing to stomping on Kaja. Both the team and the Assistant Coach were opposed to that exposure. No, it was the very erosion of trust that infected the BBC culture. Darius had gone from the Crown Prince to a 'what might have been' overnight. His former cronies felt zero loyalty to him anymore. Darius Pope had lost his luster. He was yesterday's news in the high school halls.

At this point in the inquiry had the Kingston elders admitted to the outsiders Darius was a scumbag, abusing women and men for his own selfish ends - a blackmailer and bully - the investigation might have gained traction. But they didn't. He was their flawless native son - utterly without fault. That led the investigation away from us. It turned out that other teams DID have a motive for hurting the football team in general, not just Darius. The coach had to admit to that - there was video evidence of his team's barbaric behavior.

The whole team were bastards on the field - half a dozen opposing coaches claimed as much and were vocally happy that such misfortune had befallen the evildoers of Davis High - karmic payback for their unsportsmanlike behavior. Did they know who the two (or three) 'agents of karma' had been? No idea. By that time, we had other worries. When the weekend was over it would be time to return to school - for all five of us.

{Not like any other Monday}

Monday, school life was adrift in the chaos left by Darius' abrupt departure. There was no clear successor, yet there were several contenders eager for the spot. None of them were White, but considering the school's racial makeup, it wasn't too surprising. There was also a sullen resentment against us, tempered by fear. It didn't take a first place winner at a school science fair for the students to figure out what had really happened.

Darius had put Alexander/Mikhail in the hospital and now he and six of his closest confederates were in various states of serious disrepair. Everyone knew that Darius wasn't going to be carrying any footballs this season, or maybe ever again. He had crossed the unspoken line between harassment and serious damage. Sure, the Black student body had participated in those punches, pokes and slurs.

Punishing 'Mikhail' had initially appeared to be justified ~ I had purloined Brandy and had gotten what I deserved for daring to dare. It had never occurred to anyone the meaner dogs in the fight weren't Darius Pope and his boys. Clearly, Darius had raised the level of 'acceptable' violence and they had blindly accepted his choice.

Monday morning, Darius was no longer among them and the whole school society was experiencing 'continental drift'. Even teachers were uncertain what to make of us. Only Ms. Blanchard looked openly relieved that today was no longer more of the same. We found that out right before we had another school communion under the tutelage of Principal Dr. Pierre O'Rourke Jean-Georges.

It was another exposition of what was wrong with this world and how he could fix it. The African-American Male Stereotype (aka the Football Team) had begotten violence from the entrenched White Establishment (even though there were no suspects, white or black, charged in the incident) in a never-ending cycle of brutality and suffering. The world would soon see the advent of the Brown Man ending the tyranny of White European cultural imperialism; not thru conflict, but thru the colored people's inherent spiritual superiority. Huh?

"I think we po' White folk done been insulted," Vicky whispered to our small group. She had spunk. She was also Kaelyne's best friend, which would be of more importance later today.

"Why doesn't he rail against patriarchal tyranny?" Kaelyne added.

"Because he's a man?" I offered.

"Exactly," she hissed.

"If there is so much White tyranny going on," Alexander coughed, "why am I in so much pain?"

"Because you don't know how to dodge, you knucklehead," Mikhail smirked. Dr. Pierre let his imperious gaze fall upon us, so we quieted. The rest was more of the same. We were idiots for solving problems with our fists and dicks ... blah, blah, blah. What were we supposed to be? Men with pussies? The Student Body was left largely in the dark about our fates, though it did take him an hour to lead us there.

Shaquille was at our lunch table once more, as was his girlfriend, Monique, and our teammate Kaja. That was comforting in more ways than one. Whatever had happened, they weren't ashamed, or afraid, to be seen with us. They didn't ask, so we didn't have to lie. We talked about upcoming tests, basketball practice and perhaps doing something this weekend. It was almost as if we were living in the 'new' normal.

A few cheerleaders slipped away from Brandy and Taliyah that day. It wasn't like the BBC had lost its magic. Addicts remained addicts, that cock was too good to pass up and once a girl had the taste ... they couldn't turn it down when offered. Mom's answer was a fuck-fest ... which was an idea we three boys balked at. That was when Mom had her first glimpse that Mikhail had a problem of the heart.

Only after she had pulled me aside for a chat/interrogation did she realize her own stupid mistake. Yes, Mom confessed to making an error in judgement. She'd realized that Taliyah was wild-spirited while not taking into consideration was exactly the type of woman my brother needed. That is what she said - 'needed'. That was so scary that I contemplated going behind Mom's back to warn Mikhail - almost.

I had been a good boy Friday night and criminal goings on had kept us apart Saturday and Sunday, so by Monday, Brandy was about to bust a gut. Taliyah had her own bonfire burning behind her eyes, even while she exhibited more self-control. Kaelyne and Vicky staying after school, trying to weasel in a ride, was a bit unlooked for.

"I thought we could hang out together," Kaelyne beamed. Vicky was not-so secretly amused. I repeat; she and Kaelyne were BEST friends.

"NO!" snapped Brandy. Everyone was looking at her. "I mean, we really need to do some studying. Really bad ..."

"I can help," Kaelyne refused to be dissuaded. 

"Not with this, you can't," I muttered to myself. But I couldn't come up with a viable excuse to deny her, considering her rallying to our cause last week. "Sure," I said in a louder voice. Brandy shot me a desperate visual appeal. 

"Taliyah, are you and Brandy still planning to spend the night to help us with that project?" Mikhail intervened.

"Well ... maybe," Taliyah smirked. "Brandy?"

"Hell yes," she glared at Kaelyne.

"Then we are all agreed," Kaelyne grinned. Off we went, packed in like sardines. Alexander had gone home with Ms. Blanchard. That still left us with Brandy, Taliyah, Kaja, Mikhail, Kaelyne, Vicky and me in a four person Shelby Mustang. 

I dropped Kaja off first, as always. The trip home was more suspenseful than eventful. Victoria was unashamedly upbeat while Kaelyne was terribly high-strung. How she could miss the romantic situation between Brandy and I was a mystery. Only after homework, when we were getting ready for our workout and Mom got home, did any of it make sense. Instead of appearing as the majesty she normally projected to outsiders, she sneaked up on us all. She really was the Wicked Witch of the Ozarks! She must have been standing there for five minutes before she made her presence known by noisily clearing her throat.

"Brandy," Mom stated with authority.

"Yes Ma'am," she meekly responded.

"It is good to see you today. You too, Ms. Malik. Kaelyne and Victoria, it is nice to see you coming over as well. I hope my sons are making you feel welcome."

"Hello," Victoria and Kaelyne chorused. Taliyah settled for a wave.

"Kaelyne," Mom nodded, "why don't you come with me and get some drink for the company?"

"Me?"

"Unless you know of another girl in the county named Kaelyne?" Mom mused.