I wake up and my wife is screaming at me. Marc is there. He pull her back before she get to me, but she still screaming. I guess she should be mad. Is okay. I love her so much, but I did not told her the whole truth.
My cousin in the Bronx was helping getting me the sperm samples. We had a good business going. She is much smarter than me, very, very intelligent. So she pay for samples from men in the Dominican Republic, good looking men. She pay $100 a piece and then I sell them to women for $500, sometimes $700.
I’m good with people. The women I deal with like how I understand them. They have difficult time getting pregnant and people charge them ridiculous money for sperm. Is very expensive, the procedure. The companies who make this procedure for them overcharge by so much money. They also overcharge for the donor sperm.
I show them photos of the guys, friend and relative in the Dominican Republic who need help. One hundred dollars goes a long way for them. And they always make sperm. Jaja. Some move back to the island because is so hard here in the States. They want to make money to feed family same as me. No papers means no work. Dick Dancing at the gay bar, this is the only place you can make money. Cash. So we do it.
The competition is so much, so many people, so many Dominican people with no papers, there are more of us than patrons. We smile at them, flirt, make them believe we want to fuck them. Whatever you can to get them to go back to the booth with you for $20 per song. And when I really needing the money, I would let them suck me, maybe even fuck them. They pay me $50 a song to suck my dick, and $100 to put my dick in them. One day a guy ask to eat my ass. I charged him a $100 because I don’t really want to do it. But he had it. A hundred dollars cash on him.
His tongue felt good on my ass. I let him lick it for 20 minutes. His breath smelling like baby oil and sweat when he talked to me after; this is how much he ate me. When I missed so much money, though I realized I needed to do it off work, so that I wouldn’t be distract from cash.
I asked a dude who worked at another club to play with my ass. As long as I fucked him, he would eat my ass. Is hard to watch and know a dude sucking back there, pero making it feel so good. This happen only now and then, not all the time. Still fucking women. This guy is the only one and he knew we had to keep it secret.
We fuck for months. In the bathroom at the club before it opened, once in the park after I got off work. Fucking my wife still better than ass, but I love when he fuck me. My boss at the Monster give me Dilaudid to make it easier to take it, and once I relax it feels really good.
I love Martina. I love Martina very much. She knows that the money is to help for down payment for a new house. Martina did not know it was to help with prescription treatment for her mother and to buy a new house.
She did not know it is also to buy her a ring.
Her brother say “Martina ain’t conventional.” He is telling the truth. But she deserve a proper engagement and a good ring.
I sell more sperm. The money collected in a Dominican Republic account mi padre back home manage. Then my mi madre, she goes to heaven. Mi hermano dies visiting his son in Haiti during the earthquake some years ago, and mi madre cannot cope. She dies of sadness.
A while ago, a beautiful woman, 32 years old ask me for my sperm. I meet her at the gym and help her work out one day. We talk for a long time and she says she her boyfriend sperm does not survive. Also, she has four miscarriages. When I offer to help with other sperm, she says she want to know the person.
“You have good energy and I like you. And your dimples,” she say. “I want your sperm. Not from a bank, not from a random person abroad. Yours. You’re good-hearted. A bit too flirty but that’s okay too. Gorgeous eyes, older than you look—”
“You make me blush,” I tease her.
“I’ll pay you $250 thousand dollars if you agree to provide sperm until I successfully have a child.”
How can I say no?
Is why I get so angry when that dude fuck me today with no rubber.
Horny, so horny and I got the room at the Salvia to fuck all day. The first guy is good. Nice dick, fuck really passionate. He pretend not to enjoy too much, but I see it, feel it. But I don’t need to really look at the guy for this, only when I’m fucking, so my dick stays big. My dick gets hard from what I look at, more attractive guy makes me fuck more. This is why the next guy I don’t look at. I see his two apples tattoo on his neck and that’s it.
I was so angry. He disrespect me and it risk everything because if I have infection I cannot give my sperm. I would never risk her child coming out malformed.
“You didn’t ask to fucking cum in me, bitch.”
I remember I say this because I was so angry, angry with him for being so fucked up. After the seizure, when the other guy come, I realize that I was talking to the wrong person. The other guy, the guy who I didn’t see because I was in the closet. But then the seizure—maybe too much poppers with the Dilaudid.
Before they let Martina into my room, the agent I mess around with comes alone. I see his face and know that I need to tell him.
“I will never share what happened at the hotel anything,” I say.
“What do you want?” he say.
“For you to have your privacy. I will never share that.”
I see his face and I know he understands. He sees my face and he knows I understand how important to keep this secret from everyone.
“What’s your name,” I ask him. He sees in my face I like him.
He motion to the other officer and he comes in with my wife. Marc comes in too. He grab my wife when she start screaming at me.
Marc cannot believe any of what his older sister is yelling at her husband.
“You fucking kept it! From all of us! We’re struggling to make shit happen, my sister is driving fucking Uber and my mother needs a house with more than one bathroom and you’ve been sitting on help! Sitting on it in the Dominican Republic? Really vato? Really?...”
She is relentless. Marc works hard to contain Martina and advises Rafelo to say nothing.
“You’re only gonna make her madder,” Marc says. “We’re glad you’re still alive. Let’s go.”
“It was all for you Martina,” Rafelo says nevertheless.
“Oh yeah? Did you at least get paid for fucking the boys at the Salvia?”
Marc freezes. He puts it together, his proximity to the crime of almost fucking his brother-in-law. There is an exchange between Rafelo and the agent closest to him, Adam, that suggests Adam did not share this news with his wife. But the glance fails to distract Marc from the bigger initial shock. He almost fucked his brother-in-law.
Marc neglected to help him when he was…bound in a closet?
And what did the other dude do to put him in the hospital?
The shock will not let him get to these questions. Wishing Davia had not been banned from the hospital, wishing she were inside and not in the car waiting for this fiasco to end, Marc concentrates on the agents instead.
“Are you going to arrest my brother-in-law?” he says. “Are we all going to jail?”
The agent farther away steps closer.
“No,” he says. “We won’t bring you in this time, and we will have to deal with the money. But you have to stop doing this.”
Marc softens as Martina yanks herself from his grip, determined she is fine.
“Thanks, okay let’s all go. Martina come with me. Marc stay here with him and make sure the release with the doctor goes okay.”
Marc nods, understanding that he needs to get the family out of the hospital before the agents changed their minds. But he could not believe an app built on GPS still could not help him avoid almost fucking his sister’s husband. His sister’s straight husband.
People with ulterior motives always get nervous and start to fidget, even when they are Tom-Hardy-looking characters with 007 skill and expertise. Ole boy looked as if his watch might take out a whole freeway if need be. And even at this late hour, he had that skill and charisma that nobody should be able to have getting off a return flight the same day he left.
And there I was at elevator lobby of the 8th floor of the Intercontinental on Avenue of the Stars thinking to myself how I was nervous about not meeting in the lobby. But you know, sensitive material, front desk staff eyes, random people who can be nosey, and God knows I know about that.
“Say, thanks so much for doing me this favor.”
“No worries,” I said. “I guess it was the least I could do.”
“How was everything at the hospital?”
“It’s all good.” This is where the facial conversation started. He must have seen me look a bit furrow-browed because I was still trying to figure out why the Feds let Fel off the hook, completely. Because Colby asked me:
“Black people usually don’t get pardoned the way he did. My brother-in-law was running an entire jizz donor scheme in a state where it’s illegal to charge donors for cum. And yet he’s on his way home now.”
“Oh.” But Colby smiled, the small comfortably smile of someone self-satisfied with a job well done. I decided right away it was him.
“What? Spill it.”
“I just think, I mean, isn’t your brother-in-law Cuban or Dominican…”
“This was you, wasn’t it? Are you the reason that my Rafelo Torres is not in handcuffs right now?” He had that dazed and confused look on his face that would have appeared as bad acting if he weren’t so charismatic. But like I said before, 007. It only made me mad. “Oh and now this is the part where I’m supposed to thank you profusely for saving the day, for being the white guy who rescued all the black people? My brother-in-law counts as black in this case before you open your mouth to say something offensive that will get you cussed the fuck out in this nice ass hotel—”
He had already been walking carefully toward me. “Davia, I expect no thanks at all. I just want to thank you for coming here and giving me this.”
His hands were on my shoulders and somehow it felt good. Really, the hormones were raging out of control like some teenage boy and I couldn’t stand it.
The trouble with being honest and outspoken and the middle sibling by 12 minutes is that I am a novice liar. Maybe even a terrible liar. But what I lack in deceit I make up for in instinct. I could anticipate his next question and it freaked me out.
“Did you look at—”
Of course I looked at it. And he would have seen through any improvisation of No I came up with. So I kissed him. Okay maybe he was a little hot for vanilla crunch and maybe I was a little horny. But I promise I kissed him because I needed to figure this out.
He kissed me back.
Really? Shit. The one time you’re hoping that a white man will discriminate so that you can make a quick dash.
He kissed me all the way into his room and on to the bed, and dammit if my hormones didn’t get in the way of me thinking of some way out of this. That mouth, that tongue and lip combo was all over me the way they are in the desperate, mess-up-each-others-anglo-hair scenes. But I was enjoying it. Something about his mouth coordination… See, this was what the fuck I got for being horny and messing around with Johnathan all day. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.
The creamy body was lovely under that shirt. Rome ripples I didn’t expect, although it was more a swimmer’s build with more back back there than I expected. Wings AND pushing power. This man was like 007 for real.
But if I was going to shag the white dude, even to save my ass, I needed to do it on my terms. When he tried to mount me in the bed, I rolled him over, getting on top.
“Nope,” I said. “You don’t get to do anything. Tonight, since I made the trip, you are going to be my bitch.”
He gave me that look that asks for confirmation of seriousness. I was dead ass. I put his hand on my wet cooch.
“I’m not playing,” I said.
He grinned for a minute first, but he put his hands down in surrender.
The goal was to assault him with my pussy. He was going to get fucked tonight, not me. After I got out of my clothes, I took my weapon and rubbed it up and down his entire body. His jaw dropped so by the time I made it back to the point of origin, I put my pussy right in his mouth.
The eating was good, dear God in heaven. I wanted to melt and cum right then, but I still had to maintain the upper hand. I slid on to his nice thick meat, happy as a drunk with Nyquil, that it was worth sitting on but not going to puncture my lung.
“Tell me you like this shit,” I said. “Tell me you like this shit!”
“Yeah. Yeah oooooh fuck…”
I start to moan a little. It came out of me softly but it was there.
The hands he put on my shoulders earlier were on my ass. I grab his wrists and push them on to the bed.
“Nah player, this my game,” I said, and rode him harder. Activities happen: I smack his chest. I lick his face, I smack his chest harder.
“Thinking you can fuck me. You can’t fuck me. I’m gonna fuck you.”
It did not matter in the least that I had not inhaled a penis in over two years. In order to feel the power in this occasion, I had to run it the whole time. Like a carousel, I rotate on his dick to face his legs.
“Thinking I care what’s on your toys. I don’t care about a mothafucking flash drive, just this pussy, my pussy, punk.”
Now he was ready to cum. I dismounted and landed on his face, my ass to him.
And I came when he did.
You’ve never seen a sister more anxious to get out of somewhere. The post-cum men’s shake was still in the vibrating stage when I was putting on clothes. It was like leaving early from the concert to beat everybody to the parking lot.
“Thank you,” he said, handsome as fuck.
“Don’t call me. I’ll hit you when I’m ready.” I said, and left.
As soon as I got out of there and in my car it sank in that on some levels, I had been sleeping with the enemy. There I was, over weeks denying the smiley black hunk any proximity of penis to pussy but letting him service mine, and with no hazing, I was giving Colby full squeeze. Granted, I needed to also save my life, but still. Johnathan deserved better.
So I called him to the car when I got to his house. I told him to bring a condom. Yes, unthinkably, I gave Johnathan some partially handled cooch. All this because of black guilt.
And I gave it to him in my car.
Thursday (two months later)
It had taken a long time for him to wake up, but I was willing to wait. There were small pleasures to be had in watching his eyes bulge when he realized he was chained to a beam above him and that the bind on his mouth made it impossible for him to beg. He knew right away when he saw me sitting there with the paper cup of to-go coffee that not only would begging be futile, I was uninterested in the effort.
I made it a point to wear a tighter pair of jeans, brighter in color and skinny fit in the most stereotypically gay way ever. He still managed to protest a lot, enough for me to discern the pleas. He looked around, no doubt trying to sort out where he was, and then saw the television and VCR and got mad. The writhing to get out cut his wrist a bit—I added a few barbs for decoration.
It’s funny, I always loathed the moment in movies when there were speeches and small talk during the execution of a punishment. Nobody needs all that. He knows why he’s here. I know he knows why he’s here. Talk is sort of extraneous. And he had already done enough talking, words to bash gays, slurs chanted on ogre spit. All that.
And yet he is smart enough to know that none of this was the reason he is here, bound, naked, his knees on the seat of a chair.
He figures out that it’s better to stand on your knees than sit when you need relief from the tug at the wrists. At the arms, for the matter.
I grab a small white trash can that was on sale at Bed Bath and Beyond and I move it right under his dick. He thinks its to pee. The television and VCR are on wheels and easy to roll in front of him.
From my pocketbook I retrieve a small razor blade. He protests, screams beneath the tape, begs for mercy. He thinks I will remove his dick.
I pick up his heavy dick and point it to the sky. With the edge of the blade I make a shallow incision an inch wide.
I check to see that the blood is dripping into the trash.
I walk over to the television, push the cassette in and press play.
He is screaming beneath the gag as I leave.