Ain't nothing like good head.
"Go slow," I instruct him.
He wraps his mouth around me and lets me get hard in his mouth, without any motion. He just lets me experience the warmth of his breath and the wetness of my tongue then gently begins to suck. There was this anticipation that he had that was making me heated.
"You're sexy as hell," he tells me.
He's a good looking guy but he is almost worshipping me and it's a bit of a turn-off. I think he's like Puerto Rican or something. He seems to be a bit older maybe in his 20s. I met the guy on Jack'd. It's a gay mobile app. I had my pics private and just had a body shot. He was willing to meet me without me even opening up my pics. It was kind of a turn-off. Usually, I didn't do this. In fact, I never did. He's sliding his hands up and down my stomach in an intimate way. He's using his hands to caress my chest, nipples, and stomach. All of that.
"Just focus on the dick bro," I tell him.
I push his hands away. He lowers them starting to massage my balls and even starting to go lower towards my taint area. It irritates me again as I adjust my leg.
"Man I want to ride that dick so bad," he tells me.
"Not interested man."
"I got a condom."
"I don't care."
"But it's so big and juicy. And it's cut. Damn, I would cream all over that dick."
He wasn't getting the point, "Yo bro just shut up and suck this dick or you're gonna have to leave man."
"Damn my bad. It's just you're so sexy. You remind me of this guy I used to watch on Youtube. This dancer...from the Bronx. What was his name...Sandman?"
"Don't know who you talking about."
"Really because that tattoo on your arm says Sandman."
He looks up at me. There is this look of recognition. No wonder he was sucking the dick so goddam hard like he was trying to prove something. I see this look that I used to get back in New York at that moment. This look of someone who is somewhat star-struck or something. His eyes are bubbling up. Drool damn near comes out of his mouth and dribbles on the tip of my dick at that moment.
"What the hell you doing here in the Bottom man?"
"The Bronx wasn't that much nicer, you know?" I tell him.
No point in hiding from him who I am...or who I was. He knows me. He's seen my videos. I tried to take them all down the other day but so many other people had reposted videos of me over and over. It was useless.
"I know but you were supposed to...be, somebody," he states with this scowl of disappointment outlined on his face, "What happened to you?"
I was supposed to be somebody. The words hit me like a ton of bricks to the fucking face. Almost immediately my dick goes soft. I don't want to do this anymore. The look of disappointment is etched on his face. Just at that moment, I hear the front door opening as well. I'm shocked, scared and relieved all at the same time. I'm relieved because this guy was doing the most just to give me a nut.
"Damn you got to go. Out the back."
"Can I see you again?"
"I'll text you."
"You don't got my number."
"I'll send smoke signals," I state.
I didn't care what I was telling him at that point. Anything to get him out of there. I didn't want to fuck him and I damn sure didn't want his fingers anywhere near my asshole. Truthfully it was a mistake to invite him to this place in the first place. I lead him out the back door. I never did this. EVER. I was still just so fucking pissed about the whole fight.
I still needed to relieve all this tension.
And for some reason, I was acting out.
My mom walks in at that moment. She not alone. She has my grandmother with her. I reach over to my grandmother first giving her a kiss.
"Hola Abuela, how was your appointment?" I ask.
"It was good, baby," my grandma states pinching my cheeks, "You want something to eat."
"He's grown ma," my mother tells her before scurrying her to the next room, "Give me a minute. I need to talk to Santana alone."
"Don't be too harsh on my baby."
My mother crosses her arms, "He's not a baby anymore. He's a grown man. Ain't that right, Santana?"
I knew the look. I knew what happened when my mother made my Abuela go to the next room. Ma was tough. She was that tough Dominican mother. I never knew my father. He'd ran away. My little brother got in a drive-by when he was 13. That made Ma even more protective of me. She took the role of my mother and father. For the longest time, it had just been me and her. So yeah, I knew that look. I knew the look she was giving me.
I sit on the table not ready to hear none of this.
"You bout to drive me nuts, ain't you?"
"You think this is funny?" she asks, "The school calling. They sayin' you acting up. You have been in that school one day. One day. What the hell can you do in one day that has them mentioning the word expel."
"These black kids were starting wit me," I state, "It's your fault."
"Oh, my fault. Los cojones on this one here. My fault?"
I smile and give her a wink, "I mean you produced a sexy ass son, mama You shouldn't have made me so fly. Maybe I wouldn't be getting so many haters."
I laugh a little. I'm trying to brighten to the mood. It's not working. My mother's face is stone. She crosses her arms.
"You go looking for trouble, Santana. We can't afford trouble down here. You know that. You know why..."
I look down at the table.
"I know why."
"There is a brand new guidance counselor. The school agreed not to suspend you if you go see him tomorrow."
"I'll think about it..."
"Think about it?" she asks, "Think about it. Why don't you think about the fact that we are on the run and you have a secret identity so you wouldn't go to jail? Why don't you think about that? Are you trying to bring attention to yourself? You trying to hang with the same bad people you were hanging out within the Bronx aren't you?"
"Ma, not today aight. I'm not in the fuckin mood."
I get to my room and take off my shirt. I throw it off and try to lay down on my bed. I'm shocked when she barges into my room. She didn't use to do that shit in the Bronx. I guess she was really fucking mad!
"If we get caught you going to jail for a long time. You know that right?"
"It was your idea to come down here. It was your idea to run as soon as you got me out on parole," I remind her.
"Because I know you're a good kid."
Laughable. A good kid? Is that what she thought?
"You don't even know me."
"I know more than you think. I know when you got caught with those drugs in your car with Matais that you weren't the drug dealer. Matais was. So why did you protect him? Why take the fall?"
I remember the day we were caught. I can still remember his face. His fucking face.
"Tell me the truth."
I pause. I'm so angry. I want to cry. My entire life was ruined in a day. I remember what that kid earlier had said. He had said that I was supposed to be somebody. I was supposed to be someone, but I wasn't. I was a nobody in a place called the Bottom. My life would mean nothing. I'd grow up to be nothing, just like my father and his father before him. Just like my future son and his son after him. We'd all be nothing. We'd all be in the bottom. It would never end. I was a fool for believing anything different.
"You want me to tell you that I was in love with Matais?" I ask my Mother, "You want me to tell you that he was the love of my life. You want me to tell you that I was stupid in love. And your son was in his first gay relationship with a drug dealer. And when I asked him to help you out with my parole money he was nowhere to be found. You want me to tell you all of that? Nah...why you so quiet Mama? That ain't what you want to hear? You didn't want to hear that your son was dumb? Or you didn't want to hear that your son was a dumb, gullible fag? Which one?"
My mother's face changes. She swallows. She's so quiet. She's so disappointed. I can almost read her face in those moments. I was supposed to be someone to her. I was supposed to be someone but I wasn't. I was no one.
I was nothing but a disappointment.
She shakes her head, "Go see that guidance counselor Santana."
It's the next day when I go to the office. I do it at lunch. It's the only time the office is goddam open without appointments. I walk into the office and realize that the new Guidance Counsellor is a wide-eyed man. He was n't old. He had to be in his 30s or so. He gives me a warm smile when I walk in. It's warmer than all the teachers that have given me so far. And maybe that's why it all makes me feel so fucking uncomfortable. I fucking hate it.
I barely recognize my own last name. It was my mother's maiden name. She had given it to me as an alias. Luckily for me, I had two birth certificates. I was Santana Reyes first and then my mother had changed to Vasquez when my father decided to come back around for a few months before he left again. I still carried his name though even though I never knew him. Maybe being on the run and having a fake alias wasn't so bad. I didn't have to carry that deadbeat motherfucker's name.
"Yessir?" I ask.
"Come in here and take a seat next to the other gentleman. I'll be in there in a minute."
I walk into the counselor's office. As soon as I walk in there I see the guy who took the cheap shot at me while we were dancing. Prince. I'm beyond pissed when I see him. He has his arms crossed when I walk in. He looks pissed.
"Wassup?" I start.
I'm trying to be nice. Trying.
"Fuck out my face," is his reply.
"That's how are you feeling, bro?" I ask, "It's cool, I can't even blame you."
He is curious. He looks up at me, "What?"
"Listen, I get it. You're used to being the handsome guy in school who the ladies love. You're used to being the guy who has all the moves. But here comes the new kid. He looks better than you. He dances better than you. Poof. You're number 2. Just like that. Fuck, I can't even blame you. I'd hate me too."
I swear I think Prince would reach over and try to fight me right then and there if the counselor wasn't walking back in, but the thing is the counselor does walk back in and we both get quiet. My mom was right about one thing. It was the first day of fuckin school and I had already gotten into beef. I could have at least given it a little bit longer than this.
"So you boys like to throw hands?" the counselor asks.
We both get quiet. Real Quiet. Neither of us was going to answer him. That much is clear. The only thing I wanted to do is beat the rest of Prince 's pride off of him. I had a big head and he had a big head. As far as I could tell we were too much alike and I didn't do well with competition. The awkwardness in the room is tense, to say the least.
The counselor continues when he notices that we are not talking.
"Seems like you like to throw feet too. You like to throw your bodies in general."
"Yo---what `chu talkin' bout?" Prince asks the counselor, "I got shit to do man. I ain't trying to be in here all day. Get to the point."
The counselor looks at us.
"The point. The point is you boys have talent. Real talent. Someone recorded the videos on their cellphone and I got a look."
"Listen I got talent. I don't know what this nigga was doing..."
"Yo who you callin a nigga SPICK?" Prince spits on the ground, "All ya'll papis think you can use that word. You steal our word. You steal our dances. I will outdance you ANY day."
I roll my eyes at the dude. He was all BLACK Power and shit but the guy didn't even look full black. He probably brighter than I was. I guess he saw Black Panther a few too many times and now he thought he was in Wakanda or something. I sigh blowing it all off. I could say the n-word if I wanted. Spanish folks were minorities too.
The counselor adjusts himself in the seat, "Save the passion. You boys don't need to be dancing in the back of Algebra class. You need to be dancing on stage. I'm starting a dance team. And I want you both to be on it."
"Fuck outta here," Prince grunts, "I ain't joinin' shit with no dance squad. The Fuck is this: America's Got Talent, or some shit? My balls don't hang like that. I'm a gangsta."
Prince is straight disrespectful.
"So you trying to say gangsters don't dance?" I ask him.
"Fuck naw. I'm too DOPE for that. Gangstas don't dance we BOOGIE! You want to see how big my dick is, my nigga? Fuck I look like joinin' a dance team?"
He was disrespectful as fuck, but he had a point. I feel bad for the counselor. Who was this guy anyway? What made him think this school even had dance team money? We were dead broke. We didn't even have a basketball team.
"It's not a good look. Not in this city," I tell the counselor.
The counselor doesn't seem to care. He shakes it off immediately, "I wasn't giving you boys an option. I already had it added to your syllabus."
"Can you do that?" Prince asks.
"I had your parents' permission."
What the hell was my mother trying to do? I sigh a little bit. This was fucking ridiculous. A dance team? Really? Here?
"Yo who the fuck you think you are, my nigga?" Prince asks the guy.
"Cornelius Harsh," he responds, "I ran the best dance school in New York for 5 years. I am the winner of the Carl Alan Awards and the Chita Rivera Awards for Dance and Choreography. I am somebody...in the dance world. And I think maybe you boys are supposed to somebody too."
We're sitting at the lunch table. I look down at the shit they say they are serving us for lunch. I try to move the shit around and I swear the shit don't move. It looks like some jello, pudding, rice, and bean crossbred with pure shit. Let's just say it didn't look edible.
"Yo---this shit can't be FDA approved," I grunt.
"It's all good," my cousin Prissy butts in, "I'm notating all of our complaints and plan on writing a letter to our local Legislator."
I watch as a few of the girls who follow Prissy around like she shits gold raise their eyebrows immediately impressed by the shit that was coming out of her mouth. She raises her eyebrow and sits up straight fixing her posture like she was in court or some shit.
I'm not convinced, "Bitch who you fuckin in your Civics class?"
Everyone breaks out into laughter, even Prissy because I'm sure it's probably true. Almost everyone laughs. I look next to me at Prince. Prince would usually be the first one to laugh at a dig at Prissy but he's quiet. He's completely quiet. He's just looking at the other side of the lunchroom.
I take a look at who he's looking at. He was late coming back today and I noticed he returned with the new boy. Santana.
The boy had a lot of people talking about him. He had moves and he damn sure had the looks. As I look across the room I'm not surprised when I see the Dominicans have flocked to this kid like he was the Dominican Chris Brown or something. If it wasn't for his moves, then it was for his face. He was...
I take a deep breath.
He was fucking handsome as all fuck.
"Yo, that nigga disrespected," Prince states.
Prince is fuming on the low. I can tell.
"He ain't beat you, daddy," a girl name LaKeisha states.
"LaKeisha shut the fuck up girl, you're not helping," Prissy checks her almost immediately.
I'm glad when Prissy does it. LaKeisha knows better then to argue with Prissy too. She keeps her mouth closed. LaKeisha was just Prince's Monday Thru Wednesday. That's why she was going so hard. It's Tuesday. It's probably the day she would be getting Prince's golden dick. Those were her words, not mine. She made sure to post it on Twitter so everyone knew (in case they were wondering) she got good dick from Prince three times out of the week. What's fucked up is sitting next to Prince is Amiyah who was his Thursday Thru Friday. Walking up was Shawnna who was Prince's weekend. Let's just say Prince had a lot of hoes. They were all gorgeous in hood terms and they all pretty much knew about each other. Last year they were all fighting but I guess that kind of gets old when they realize that none of them were willing to cut off the dick. So now they are pretty much like sister wives. Prissy likes it. They all listen to her. She's kind of like their madame.
"You win some, you lose some," I shrug.
"Nah nigga. Fuck that. I'm bout to call Tone."
Oh fuck. I was SO tired of being the voice of reason in my family. When I hear the name Tone I can see that Prince is about to try to take this to a whole different level. Prince fought. He fought a lot. We all did. This was not the kind of fight to get Tone involved in. There was no real beef with the new boy.
"Yo this ain't even gang-related," I state, "He ain't even M83 yet. He ain't wearing their colors yet. Why bother Tone?"
"I don't give a fuck. He needs to be checked. Look at him. Who the fuck does he think he is..."
I have to admit the boy was Cocky with a capital C. I look over at him and I admit this new kid just had an aura about him. Hood famous. That's what we liked to call it. The truth is it didn't matter. He'd be popular for a few more years at most. Then he'll knock up a pretty Dominican girl or two. He won't marry her. They never do. Then he'd probably cheat on her and have another baby. Then he'd leave both of them and skip town to find some fat chick with low self-esteem to live off of until his previous baby mothers track his ass down and hit him with child support. It won't matter though because the fat chick will pay for it. That is his destiny. That's the destiny for 99.9 percent of the men in the Bottom. I wasn't psychic. I just wasn't dumb.
"Yo, I love you kid, but you sound a little jealous," I state.
Tone was nothing to play with. Getting Tone involved in some shit was serious. Prince is looking at me with a pissed off face. It's beyond pissed off.
"Yo whose side are you on?"
"I'm on your side but I'm if you acting like a jealous bitch, I'm gonna say you acting like a bitch. The dude disrespected. We fought. If you feel salty fight him again. But what we won't do is get crazy ass Tone involved."
"Man fuck you."
"Y'all chill..." Prissy states, "It's not that serious."
"Listen to your sister. Cause we can take this shit to the bathroom bro like the old days and leave bloody."
"I'm bout to beat your fuckin ass..."
"Guys," Prissy pleads.
It's too late. He's storming off clearly all pride and ego. I get up off the lunch table and follow up after him rolling up our sleeves. I can almost hear him breathing hard. This was how people handled it in the hood especially when it came to family. You didn't fight your family in public. Aunt Tonetta told me that and when Prince was adopted into the family she made sure he knew all the rules too.
And we followed the rules.
And before I know it I see him in the bathroom and I can see this pissed off look on his face.
"So you gonna take his side?" he asks.
"Like I said. I ain't taking his side, but I am going to check you when you acting dumb."
"Then I'll just have to make you regret that shit."
"You can try. You may be bigger Prince, but I ain't no bitch. You know that."
That's when Prince comes at me. He comes at me hard in the bathroom. He grabs me up and slams me up against the wall. He slams me so hard that my face hits the wall. I elbow him in his ribs causing him to shuffle backward. Then all of a sudden he reaches over and I think he's going to headbutt me but he doesn't.
He doesn't headbutt me.
Prince kisses me. He kisses me hard.
"Damn I missed this," he whispers.
Prince's tongue is in my mouth. He presses his hands up against the side of my face. I'm looking at his face. His high yellow skin tone almost contrasts against my own. His pink lips press against my lips. He's kissing me roughly. I can tell he's pissed. He's so fucking handsome when he's pissed too.
"Yo hurry up nigga...the bell's about to ring," I state.
I turn around as we head into the bathroom stall. It smells like piss in here but then again, so what? The fuckin hallways and stairwells smelled like piss too. I hold my breath and press bend over above the toilet. I hear Prince spit on his hand. He's desperate to feel me. He spits in his palm and almost immediately he pushes his hard dick in me.
There was a reason girls went crazy about Prince's dick. It was 10 and a half inches. Oh, and you felt that half an inch too. He was thick and when he got up in me I swear I was reaching for everything in near view. The thing was Prince wasn't just all about the size either. He was a dancer. He knew how to dance inside of the pussy. In my case, he knew how to dance inside of the ass.
He's going back and forth. Slow...steady rocking his hips and kissing me with that handsome face of his so that I was well aware of how lucky I was.
If Lakeisha, Amiyah, and Shawnna had him on special days of the week, I was the one who had him all the times in between.
"This my ass, you know that?" he asks, "Always..."
This isn't the first time he's said this. He's said it before when we were kids. We were 6 years old. My Aunt hadn't started dating his dad at that point. He wasn't adopted. We were playing around and before I know we were kissing. Back then of course when he told me that my ass belonged to him, I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. It wasn't until we were a little older when he demonstrated. It quite eye-opening.
And even as he got all his girlfriends, I didn't really complain. I think he liked that about me. Truth is, I liked the dick. What was there to complain about?
We weren't in love but hell we were always together and his dick was pretty damn big. Plus even though he messed with three females, he was always horny. It was just fuckin convenient, to tell the truth.
All of a sudden the door opens.
I hop on the toilet and he hops on there with me. We're doing a balancing act on the toilet. What's odd is that I'm scared as fuck someone is gonna catch us in the stall but this seems to turn Prince on a little bit more. Maybe that's why he continues to thrust slowly, slightly until I feel his warm, wet nut filling my asscheeks. I'm in the squatting position so the stuff goes real deep up in there. I'm shocked at the amount of semen Prince delivers that he hasn't had a baby yet. I know for damn sure if I was a female I would be pregnant by now. I would have conceived right here on the toilet seat.
"Chico thinks that nigga Santana got the juice."
It's the Spanish boys. M83.
"I don't know. He's too much a pretty boy-man. I'm not trying to have anyone in M83 stealing all the bitches."
"Suwoo gang got that Prince motherfucker. They seem to be doing just fine. Maybe the pretty boys bring the chicks. Besides, he supposedly got some good information."
"What kind of information?"
"A reason to break the truce."
I turn. I look over at Prince. Were these motherfuckers trying to break the truce? They were looking for a reason to break to the truce. This definitely was some shit that we were listening to.
"Hell yeah. If Santana is right, we can get at Prince. Hell...maybe we can even get at Tone."
"Nah, Prince may be the face of the Suwoo gang and Tone may be the muscle but you know what they say. To kill a snake you have to chop off its head. Chico wants to get rid of the brains in that operation. Once the brains are gone, the Bottom will officially be M83 territory...completely..."
"Chico wants to kill Desta."
If I wasn't getting fucked by my adopted cousin at this moment I would be running down on these dudes to find out who it is. I can't though and truthfully it didn't matter.
One thing had become clear. Maybe I was wrong about the Santana threat not being a real threat.
Prince gives me a look.
It's a look that says, "I told you so."
Santana was helping Chico set me up to kill me.
To read the next chapter in advance go to www.crushedcrown.com