Ozark Race Wars: Part 3

Emptiness.

Based on a post by FinalStand, in 13 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

 

I was a bit of a loss what to do as our sexual congress had gone in a totally different direction from what I had foreseen. Brandy seemed physically happy with the outcome yet her mind was conflicted. She slowly slipped to my right side before propping herself up. She didn't look at me. Her vision was locked onto her scattered articles of clothing.

Dressing meant us heading back to my place then her having to confront Darius with all that had happened to her; and she'd liked being with me. She felt Darius was going to pierce any fable she created so leaving equated to pain and degradation for her. I believed Darius would punish her for his lousy planning. It was ludicrous to believe Brandy could entrap me.

That might have been sadistic back-up plan. He could get one up on me, or blame Brandy for failing at the task he shoved upon her. Darius would beat her up over the failure. Brandy was so infatuated with him, she would willingly accept the fault was hers. His cruelty didn't excuse her stupidity, not in my mind. Still, I reached out and ran my fingers from mid-thigh to her underarm. That tickled so she turned to me and smiled.

It was the first genuine sign of affection she'd ever shown me. I kept repeating the motion even after she put her head back on my chest. Brandy followed up her happy murmuring by stroking my cock. That turned into a hand-job. My pleasurable moans led to a blowjob and that graduated to a sixty-nine. I worked over her clit with my lips as I worked my fingers inside her vagina and ass hole.

I was positive she'd had some intense anal sex this morning with Darius. Mom's forced enema hadn't helped her sphincter relax much at all. I fit two fingers inside her anus with little effort and, by her reaction, causing her nothing but sexual satisfaction. I admit I got carried away, altering between vaginal/anal intrusions, spanking her ass and unleashing my vitriol.

I reminded her she'd treated me like filth beneath her heel, tried to have Darius bust me up, and he had failed, and I knew Darius had sent her to me today. He'd failed again, so had she and because of that I was going to own her ass multiple times before I let her go home. All of that blame and passion excited Brandy to a razor's edge.

She was choking down my semen in no time. While she was nursing my cock (we were still '69'ing) back to health, I tore another climax from her. She was wearily working toward my third round when I enforced a bathroom and food break. I let this play out in the reverse of my experience, Mom and Dad.

I followed Brandy around, hugging her from behind when she slowed down, or stopped. Initially she didn't know what to make of my snuggling affection though she quickly decided she liked it. She'd often lean back into my embrace. She also decided to open up a little bit. We were eating some Pimento Cheese sandwiches which she made while I poured us two tall glasses of lemonade.

‘I like it when you spank my ass,’ she mumbled around a mouthful of food. She wasn't being rude. She was giving herself an 'out' if I found her request annoying, or a cause for derision, a misunderstanding of what she'd said. I arched one eyebrow, stepped to her side, cupped her buttocks then gave the left one a sharp smack.

‘I like that too,’ I nodded hungrily. ‘You were right,’ I added. She looked at me with curiosity. ‘You do give a good blowjob. I really liked it.’ I didn't really know how to rate her. She was the second girl to ever give me fellatio, but the experience had been good for me. My simple praise put a spark back in her self-confidence.

‘I told you I was,’ she grinned triumphantly. I stepped up and gave her right buttock a quick slap.

‘Don't forget I'm still angry with you,’ I met her sultry gaze. A sexy side of her I'd never seen before shone forth. She was mixing fun and intercourse in a way new to her and she was finding the combination enjoyable.

Without a doubt, Darius had played mind games with Brandy. My games were on a more direct level. I was still sure she was going to return to being Darius' fuck-slave and for the first time I felt sorry about that.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Brandy snuggled into me.

‘I'm curious why you are still here,’ I countered. That put her back into our ugly reality. She should be pushing me to take her back home, but she wasn't. ‘Let's go back to bed.’ My offer evaporated her indecision. She took my hand and returned us to the bedroom. I spanked her exquisite ass a few more times on the way.

Brandy made it clear what she wanted next. She crawled up to the head of the bed, put one pillow under her breast and a second one beneath her head all the while wiggling her ass in my direction. Lube; in the bedside table. I almost discounted it. Brandy was fairly loose. I still decided to err on the side of caution. I lubed up while she buried her face into a pillow in anticipation of what was to come.

My trepidations were justified. Brandy's ass was an overly used tunnel. A few strokes verified that Brandy was only marginally enjoying the event all that much either. Diligence proved to be the most important Word of the Day. A dozen strokes in, Brandy gave a pleased grunt. I decided to alternate five slow, easy strokes followed by three rapid, hard and deep ones.

That was the correct choice. Brandy began huffing and panting, thrusting back and giving her ass a clever twisting motion that increased the stimulation for us both. She knew what she was doing while I was a complete novice. I took her instruction and suggestions well, leading up to a thunderous orgasm on her part.

Recalling her earlier request for post-climactic care, I took my penetrations nice and slow while she built back up her stamina. I couldn't explain it. Her anal passage was becoming just as snug as her vagina was, a perfect fit for my cock. The movement of my glans upon her back passage was driving her nuts.

A few minutes of compassionate union saw Brandy forcing herself onto all fours. The look she gave me over her shoulder expressed an unspoken desire for my assistance. I took a stab at what she wanted by wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back up to my chest. My guess was almost what she intended. Brandy moved my hands to her breasts.

Our height difference kept my kisses to the top of her head. I compensated by mauling her breasts, twirling her nipples and keeping up a rigorous breast play. She loved it. Brandy rocked back on my rod repeatedly, raising up then impaling herself with a downward push. I became absorbed in the sexual moment, losing track of whether this was one more orgasm for Brandy, or two.

All I did know was when I finally came for the third time in this marathon coitus session, Brandy screamed like a banshee, shook as if she was having a seizure and then passed out. I couldn't immediately rouse her, so I quick-stepped (on my wobbly legs) to the bathroom, wetted a washcloth and rushed back to her side.

I rubbed the cool cloth over her neck and cheeks until she revived. The collision of emotions in her eyes imparted a look I didn't then understand and would never forget. It was starting to get dark, so I recommended a shower before heading back. Brandy's silent depression wasn't something I could understand.

She did hug me tight all the way home and made no protest when I snuck an arm around her waist as we went inside. We ran across Anita Turner, the downstairs maid, first.

‘Ms. Carson, you need to call your Father,’ she informed Brandy. She exhaled deeply, looked to me so I gave her my phone. Big Bob wanted confirmation that she was where she claimed to be.

‘Yes Sir,’ I stated. ‘We messed around the house for a bit, we have some swords, bows and stuff here; then we went out to the hunting lodge to make sure that it was habitable. You know, in case you, my Dad and my brothers want to go hunting when Deer Season comes around,’ I bent the truth.

That soothed Brandy's Dad though he did insist Brandy come straight home. She let him know her phone was kaput. I promised to give her a spare my Mom had. As I gave Brandy the phone, I reminded her that her father might check her phone log so she shouldn't make any other calls. I neglected to teach her how to clear that log, I was still fucking with Darius.

Mom was sitting on the front porch swing as we stepped out the front door. I was planning on walking her to car because that felt like something a guy should do.

‘I told you not to fuck any of my Sons,’ Mom taunted Brandy. Her voice shocked us.

‘I; ah,’ Brandy stammered.

‘Mom, is this really the time?’ I intervened.

‘Yes it is Vlad,’ Mom informed me kindly. To Brandy she was less kind, ‘You stupid, insipid tramp. Do you regret doing my boy yet?’

‘No,’ Brandy protested.

‘You will,’ Mom chuckled. ‘You will.’ I had no idea what she was talking about. Brandy flashed me a concerned look. My face held no answers so we headed to her car in silence. I gave her one unexpected kiss on the lips. She responded with a ravenous French kiss. I remained standing, a prisoner of my uncertainty, as she drove away.

‘Mom?’ I asked when I got back to the porch. ‘What are you talking about Brandy 'regretting sleeping with me'?’

‘Vlad, you are a big boy,’ Mom began. ‘You know I like sex, right?’ I nodded. ‘Your Dad is the best fuck I've ever had, period, end of statement.’

‘It is not just him either,’ Mom chortled. ‘All of us Samsonov husband and brides feel that way about our mates. Despite my experience and willpower, I couldn't get away. The first time we had sex, your Dad and I, I knew it was the best cock I'd ever had and ever would have.’

‘Gee; thanks, but no thanks for that crumb of information,’ I grimaced.

‘Vlad, you know I like to get my way in all things,’ she made sure she had my attention. ‘I told you one month after that night with your father, I came back to him and have never been with anyone else. That's because after your Dad, all other sex was boring and pointless. I couldn't have an orgasm without your Father's help. It is like that with all the Samsonov's, men and women.’

‘That's your Secret Weapon?’ I scoffed. ‘Magic Dicks?’ Mom laughed at me.

‘You'll see. Wait until Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. Brandy's not all that strong-willed. She'll be begging you for a second round. I have no doubt,’ Mom smiled knowingly. Why my Mom had finally wander off to fantasy land was my source of worry for the rest of the weekend.

The further adventures of the Samsonov boys in Black Racist Tyranny.

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 cock 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 an ass 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 ass 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 cunt, 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 girlfriend’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 cock 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 and 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.

‘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 S O P, standard operating procedure, 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.’

And Killing Dreams.

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 N C A A Division 1 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?

No; 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 red any of his published articles. He was big on talking about the 'fight against racism'. That was as far as any of them red 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 asshole 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.

‘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.

F Y I, 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 ass 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 cock 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 ass 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.

‘Oh; ‘ 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 ass 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,’ Mikhail 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 cunt 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.

‘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 cunt' 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 cock 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.

To be continued in part 4, based on the work by FinalStand for Literotica.