Encomium/Gangster Fairy Tale 01

"What you say we get something to eat. I know you are dying for a beer and a tasty, juicy steak, huh?" she said, pulling up before a fine restaurant.

"Definitely. Damn! You are heaven sent..." the young black man said. The mature white woman climbed onto the car seat to get her hand bag and her jeans slid lower, showing those thong straps cutting into her curvy hips and the back strap sinking into her nice deep crack. William smiled. Man, he hadn't seen pussy in ages. He was so horny...

In his gangster days, William had had his fair share of chicks that wanted to fuck a high roller; black, white, Asian, Latin, whatever. But they had all been young girls. He had never had a hot, mature white ma like her though. Mmmm! He felt so attracted to her suddenly.

He knew she was not for him, he was just a thug coming from jail, and she was a mature, attractive, sharp minded woman. And his PO. But damn!!! Hot-damn! Was it just a coincidence, that he was seeing that ass and thongs for the second time in one hour?

"Where you from? Karen?" he asked in a hoarse voice, gazing at her ass dreamily.

"Oregon. Stop leering at my old ass. Its disrespectful!" She wasn't annoyed though. She just wagged a playful finger at him and pulled up her pants.

"Nah! Its hot! Ha ha ha! Sorry. I haven't been around a lady in two years. But that beauty there is hot all the same. Ha ha ha." he laughed deeply, with humor, forcing his eyes to leave that ass.

"I can help you earn something even hotter. A life in freedom."

"Yeah, I dig that. Don't free Willy, free me."

"Lench Mobb, with ICE CUBE!!!!"

She chuckled.

Then her cellphone rang. He saw something wary creep into her. There was a stiffness that came to her posture. She checked the number, since to think twice and then she answered.

"Hallo, Cosworth."

William heard a loud, angry male voice. He couldn't make out the words but picked out the anger. Karen stiffened visibly now and her face was covered with worry. Then she forced herself to relax, and forced a smile and said, "hold on a second. Excuse me one sec, William."

She walked off stiffly, out of ear shot. One thing was clear to him, she was scared shit-less. And she seemed to be talking to the angry man in placating tones, but mostly, she was listening and looking very uncomfortable.

She hung up after ten minutes and he saw her inhale and exhale deeply and gather herself. Then she walked back up to him, smiling.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes. It was nothing really."

For a second, he thought of letting it go. But he didn't.

"Karen, trust me, I know when someone is scared? Maybe it will help to talk to someone."

"Thanks for your concern. But its nothing. I just got divorced. And things are kind of rocky, with my ex. But its nothing really. It will soon blow over. Lets go get a bite..."

She led him on. William did not even look at her rolling ass. His eyes were fixed on her neck and shoulders. They were stiff. He didn't know what was going on, but Karen was very shaken up and scared. There was definitely something happening there.

Chapter 3

They sat at a table in a cozy Italian restaurant, with soft music playing as they ate ravenously. Karen had never seen a man make a plate of steak, potatoes and gravy disappear so fast. And he had poured down half a liter of coke just like that. She ate a tasty salad and drank a glass of white wine. She noticed the usual unfriendly looks from some of the other diners, especially the elder ones, of course, labellings her as a horny, shameless white mom with a taste for young, black flesh.

Karen had been working with paroles for five years and not once had she cheated on her husband. She cared very much for their well being and rehabilitation, giving it her best, and it annoyed her to think that some people were so programmed as to think in this one track manner. But she knew she could not do anything about the people's poisoned thoughts.

But it was also gratifying, to know they got so mad, imagining her going off soon afterwards, to mount this young, hot black stud and ride the skin off his humongous black dick that they feared he had. Karen smiled sweetly.

As William relaxed and started sipping wine, she noticed his eyes roam around, gazing at the women. She could see the hunger for pussy in his eyes. She always saw it on guys that just came out of jail. If it had been up to her, she would give every guy a night with a hot hooker, just to help him relax.

Chapter 4

They had very rich, creamy tiramisu for desert. Then Karen drove William home. Karen felt good about William. He was smart. And he was a good kid, or young adult, that got seduced by the crime, gangster life. She had worked with many guys like him.

Karen knew she was doing quite well, compared to most other Parole Officers, that she knew were only too intent on sending the guys back to the slammer. Out of ten paroles, she averaged four, that became rehabilitated into society. Two usually ended up going back to jail for parole violations, two went back to crime after their parole periods, and two usually got shot before their parole period was over. Even though she knew she could whip a donkey to go to the river but couldn't force it to drink, the failures always caused her pain and anguish. She saw something in these guys that most of civil society, even other black people did not see.

As they neared his house, she said to him,

"Listen, William, you know your conditions, right, no drugs, no violence, no crimes, not even a misdemeanor. And you cannot hang with gang bangers. You need a job and a permanent place of residence. I will have your blood checked for drugs regularly. And I have eyes and ears in your hood and in the scene. We cool?"

"Uh huh! But, ah..."

"What?"

"I was smoking weed in jail everyday, so that will turn up in the blood test. And some of the guys I used to bang with are cousins. They will be throwing a party for me tomorrow. After that, I wont hang with them and I wont smoke weed."

"Make sure. And we cool. Now, I can help you enter a college and set you up with a partial scholarship. If you show me that you are serious. Do you need help finding a job?"

"As a black ex con? You kidding me?"

"A friend of mine owns a takeaway joint. It ain't the best job in the world, but when you are at rock bottom, the only way is up."

"Its all right."

William had inherited a three bedroomed house with a big yard from his mom. They lived in a better part of LBC, though it was drug and gang infested, with young, 14 year olds already riding, if their parents who didn't educate them better. Not many white people would dare go there, but Karen was not scared, people knew her here. She pulled up at his house and went in with him.

His cousin Amanda had kept the place clean and in shape. But it was half empty. What hadn't been repossessed had been sold off by Amanda, probably, he told Karen. But he wasn't bitter. She had two kids, with no daddy. Karen told him she could hook him up with some old furniture.

"All right then William, I think you have a very good chance of getting out. Now, its all up to you. I swear, if you fuck up, I wont hesitate to have your parole revoked. You dig?"

He nodded. He could see in her pretty eyes that she wasn't joking. And he had no intention of disappointing her. Jail had opened up his eyes, and made him realize that being a roller was not a majestic thing, like he had thought.

They shook hands. William gave in to an urge and slid his left arm around her shoulder. She came to him, hugged him, making him woozy from her perfume and feminine softness and warmth for a second. Then she patted his back and stepped back.

After Karen left, William did some press ups and then sat on his dark porch, sipping water from a bottle. His thoughts stayed on Karen.

He had known that coming back into the real world would be confusing, but hadn't thought that that would start so fast. Karen was confusing for him.

Life had taught him that things were never always as they seemed. The first, hard lesson had come from the hood. The lesson was, "Your best friends today can be your enemies tomorrow." This had happened, when he and his crew of ballers and high rollers had turned guns on each other, for money, power and pussy, resulting in several of his friends dying and him being locked up.

The second lesson had come in prison. When he was balling, he had hated black Muslims. They had been fucking up things for him and the boys in the hood, trying to instigate the community to rise and take action against the dealers, getting moms, dads and kids and old folk to march together and block the best drug spots and stuff. However, in jail, the same Muslims had taken him into their fold and helped him escape the fate that befell many a young, handsome buck doing his first bid. William had had to take and mete out some severe beatings, but he never was raped or forced to join the criminal gangs. The Muslims had taken him into their fold and given him books and conversation to open up his mind.

In jail, he had learned about the reality of his people, "Buffalo soldiers, stolen from Africa, brought to America, fighting on arrival, fighting for survival."

He had come out expecting his parole officer to be a mean, nasty guy, trying to exploit him and get him locked up again fast.

But Karen was not like that at all. She gave him the impression that she was on his side. True, she was known in his Hood. She had done much work there. And helped many a brother and a sister.

But he wondered at her motivation. Why? Why would a white woman from Oregon want to help black folk when her men folk in power were doing their damnedest to keep them broke, dumb and fucked up, using wood to build coffins instead of making school books, and using steel and concrete to lock them up instead of building nice houses in the hood, spending billions on wars and jet airplanes and space shuttles instead of raising the standard of living for his folk.

In the Hood, he had never had much contact with whites, except for young white gangster groupie hos, that were caught up in the gangster rap craze and wanted to ride with a gangster and suck and fuck black gangster cock and take drugs and feel like they were bad.

Then came his arrest, and the white inquisitor of a DA who did his damnedest to convince a stone faced pale jury that he was a dangerous beast and a menace to society, which he was, though he wondered why the white folk cared. He never went to their suburbs. And then there was the evil judge who sentenced him to three years with hard labor, for possessing much less cocaine than they could find on Paris, Britney, Tommy Lee or even senators on any day.

Then came the sadistic guards in jail, who took pleasure in humiliating and knocking the patch out of a black man's ass, limiting their visits and putting them in solitary just for the fuck of it. Like, they came to let you out in the yard and would say, "What's up, Nigger! Time to walk the dog. Catch!"

All those people had fanned his hate and distrust for white people.

But Karen was different. He could feel it. She cared. But could he trust her? Or were the Muslims right? Were these people really all his enemies.

Yeah, he didn't know. Jail had taught him patience. Still, his pain, anger, hurt and fear made his heart quick to want to see an enemy in her. However, his mind decided to be patient. He would give her a long rope and see if she would hang herself with it, or throw it at him and help pull him up. And he would not give her any excuse whatsoever, to wanna turn on him. That, he was determined.

Chapter 5

His cousin Derek, that they called Big D, and the boys from his former crew, were glad to have him back home and threw a fat party for him. They were laughing about all the dumb shit he had pulled before the slammer, and talking about riding again. They had a couple of hot chicks that he used to fuck way back, a black booty ma from the hood, and a tall, slim white blond that had rich parents but only wanted to be a dangerous black gangster's bitch. He disappeared in his bedroom and got some nice, wet, deep, hot pussy for the first time in two years. It felt good, just like in the old days, having two hot chicks, young, sexy, wild, getting freaky with it, one sucking his dick as the other licked his balls and ass, one sitting on his face and riding his tongue with her hot, tasty pussy as the other rode his dick. One holding the other's ass cheeks wide apart as he fucked her rectum, and then pulled it out and gave the other to lick.

After two hours of hardcore, 10 X rated sex, he returned to the party, well and happily fucked. The boys cheered, just like in old times, just like was traditional.

His cousin, Big D took him to his big ass truck and they leaned against it, passing a forty and a joint back and forth.

Derek was bumping some new gangster rap shit.

"That's that Nigga Game! Nigga banging yo! He bringin the West Coast back up in this bitch! Check this out!"

"This is how we do, We make a move and act a fool while we up in the club, This is how we do, Nobody do it like we do it so show us some love"

"...You don't want, none, Nigga betta, run, When beef is on, I'll pop that, trunk, Come get some, Pistol grip palmed, If a Nigga step on my white Air Ones... Ready here I come, Compton, unh, Dre found me in the, slums, Selling that skunk, one hand on my gun, I was selling rocks when Master P was saying "Unnnh", Buck pass the blunt, Its G-Unit, girls just wanna have fun, Coke and rum, Got weed on the ton, I'm banging with my hand up her dress like, unh, I'll make her cum, purple haze in my lungs, Whole gang in the front in case a Nigga wanna, stunt..."

William said he liked the beat and the flow but the lyrics were tired. Derek was like, "No Nigga, das da real!"

Then Derek said to William, "When you coming back to the fold? We been missing you. We need to ride again."

But William told him he had to lay low. And they could not hang together for he did not want to violate his parole conditions and go back to jail.

Big D was like, "Fuck that. Let Mo handle it."

"Damn, D, give me time cousin. I mean, I am twenty four, you 33, ain't we getting too old for this gang bang shit?"

"Nigga, I am riding till the wheels fall off!"

"Listen, Derek, shit ain't a joke!" William sneered, feeling pissed off. "We killed Yello, P and Lo Lo."

"It was them or us, cousin. WTF!"

"Listen man, I am out."

"You crazy! You know how many people will be after you once they hear you on your own? Nigga wont last a day."

"I survived jail, I got a good PO and I don't wanna fuck things up. Respect mine. I need to lay me down..."

William left the party and went into his bedroom. It was the first time in his life he ever walked away from a room full of his homies, drugs, brew and hot ass chicks, willing to fuck.

As he lay back in his bed, hearing the muffled voices music and happy laughter, William thought back to how he had ended up going to jail.

Chapter 6

William's story:

If William didn't have money growing up, it wasn't because he didn't want it. Hell, he wanted the paper, the cash. And money could be made in the hood. You just had to be a gangster. That was the problem though, his mom didn't think it was a nice occupation.

"I'll kick you out my damn house, if you cut school and sell poison on the street! By Jesus of Nazareth, you will be out on your own," that was what his mom said. And she meant it.

And she was ill too, so he couldn't just move out and go hustling. She had a bad heart condition and high blood pressure, because the number one killer of inner city black women was stress.

William knew many people that were not involved in drugs and gangs. In fact, most people weren't. But to him it seemed kind of boring, stupid and corny. The decent folk, hell, they didn't have the gear, the cars, the jewels. Shit, they didn't have a shine, and nobody feared them. They were bitches, if you asked him.

His mom's brother, Uncle Pastor Bester told him,

"Young pardner, you got it all wrong, gangsters don't live that long."

But he answered, "F that. Gangsters live large."

"No way are you becoming a gangster! You will kill your mom with that!"

Therefore, William had to stay in fag ass school, and for what? Lessons, so one day you might grow up to be a teacher or office worker. Fuck that. William was more like,

"When I grow up I wanna be a bad ass gangster. And you woozy ass bitches can just kiss my black ass from here to right across the street, biii-oo-eee-tch!"

At eighteen, he was just a boy in the hood humming along to Nas Escobar's Sweet Dreams, like,

"Sweet dreams are made of this, Niggaz push Beamers and Lexus, 300cs, Who am I to disagree, Everybody is looking for something."

One sunny afternoon, his mom was at work and he was chilling with his girlfriend, Nathalie. Nathalie was a hot, chocolate beauty with a real pretty face, mesmerizing, doe eyes, and such lush, kissable, pouting lips. She had a body like a ghetto guitar; thick tits, slim, tapering waist, wide flaring hips and a gorgeous, firm round ass you could see from the front. Damn! Ma was hot. Banging!

However, she had an attitude and he didn't like, not one bit. There he was, trying to get his fuck on, while his mom was at work. They were in his bedroom, on top of his bed covers. Nathalie's hot, chocolate brown booty was spread out under him and he was was pumping his thick, long cock to the hilt in her hot tight, soaking, slick pussy. She was moaning softly, pearls of sweat shining on her forehead, her sexy, brown, bedroom eyes all dreamy. Her nice, perky tits were heaving to her labored breathing, and her juicy thighs were raised and spread wide open. She was so wet that her entire crotch and inner thighs were soaked. Beads of her pussy juices were glistening in her soft, crinkly thatch of pubic fair like tiny jewels.

He was pumping his cock in and out of her tunnel, smoothly, rhythmically, loving the feel of her soft, thick ass cheeks as he ground into her. But Nathalie was just laying there and gobbling like a turkey and enjoying the dick, letting him do all the work to make her cum. Again! After refusing to blow him, and forcing him to put on a rubber, as usual.

"Yeah baby... That's it. That's my spot. Hit it baby..."

He thought, "WTF!!!" and so he smacked her, snatched her by the throat and told her matter of fact like, "Bitch! Move that fat ass. Work for your pleasure goddammit!"

William pulled almost all the way out and then rammed his big dick deep inside her tight hole. She got mad as hell and tried to shove him off, but he pinned her down by the throat and pounded her pussy, his young, strong hips pumping lustily, rhythmically. Nathalie went berserk, baring her teeth like an angry tiger and sinking her talons into his ass cheeks as she fucked him back like she wanted to break his back.

They literary carried their on going fight to the bed, the fight between an intelligent, proud, young black woman in love, and a young buck with ambitions as a nasty, freaky rider and high roller. William loved her, but he wanted her to get down like a nasty slut, a cross between a porn star and a video ho. His head was too filled with trash from Hip Hop videos and the exploits from his cousin Big D and his gangster friends. In fact, William didn't want a girlfriend, he wanted a gangster bitch!

But Nathalie would not give him that. Not ever. So now, he was punishing her with his big, black cock, trying to beat her into submission. And Nathalie was giving back as good as she was getting, wrapping her powerful thighs around his waist, sinking her talons into his ass cheeks and biting his shoulder, as she threw her hips up at him with an angry passion.