Baltimore Chronicles (4 page)

After a while. Derek gave up the active search to find his mother and brother again. He didn't know the first place to look. Checking the foster care system had turned up nothing on Scar. The records were sealed on kids who aged out of foster care anyway. Then one day, as a highway patrol trooper, Derek walked into the squad room of the narcotics unit to get a white powder test done on a substance he had seized during a car stop, and right on the wall was a huge
WANTED
poster with his brother's face and name plastered on it. It read:
STEPHON “SCAR” JOHNSON, REWARD
$10,000.

Derek stared at the picture for what felt like ten minutes. He was so overcome with emotion; he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, scream hallelujah, or kiss the poster. When it had finally sunken in that the man in the picture was really Scar, Derek's little Scar head brother, Derek got so nauseated and weak he almost threw up.

“What's the matter, Fuller? You look like you saw a ghost in that mu'fucka Scar Johnson,” one of his colleagues asked.

“Nah, nah. Just looking around,” Derek said, quickly pulling himself together before anyone caught on to his interest in Scar.

After seeing that picture, Derek was hopeful again, and he set out to find his brother. It had never occurred to him before that he could use his police resources to try to find his brother and mother.

When he pulled Scar's criminal history, he learned just what his brother had been doing since he last saw him at five years old. Scar had a rap sheet as long as a city block. Derek learned that Scar had become the founder of the notorious Dirty Money Crew, a crew of killers that had murdered their way to the top of the Maryland drug trade.

Derek was on the other side of the law, but the fact still remained that Scar was his blood, and he had been determined to find him one day. Derek worked hard to prove himself as the best trooper on the streets just so he could get enough clout in the department to put in his application to join the drug team. He was a man on a mission.

After six months, Derek made the narcotics force. He had officially become a jump out boy. Every time Derek went on a jump out operation to pick up the hand-to-hand street pharmacists, he was hopeful he would run into Scar or get some information on him. Finally, Derek and his team jumped out on a set of corner boys, and it just so happened that the little dudes they picked up were down with the Dirty Money Crew. They were low men on Scar's payroll.

It didn't take long for Derek to get one of them alone and promise him freedom if he told him where to find Scar. At first, the little soldier was living by the street creed: No Snitching! But the longer the boy sat in a cell, unable to use the bathroom, get anything to eat, and with no phone calls, he finally gave in and provided Derek with the information he needed.

 

Derek sat outside of all of Scar's trap houses for weeks, but Scar never showed up. Being out there undetected, Derek had figured out every drop off and pick up time. He had numbered Scar's workers, and used logic to figure out the one who must have been a higher-up, which meant he was probably closest to Scar. Derek noticed that the dude was the one that was the most consistent player at all of the trap houses, and he never stuck around long. Derek reasoned he was the lieutenant in charge of bringing the re-up and picking up the profits. Finally, Derek decided to tail him. Sure enough, one night Derek followed the dude right to his leader.

Derek's heart thumped wildly when he covertly peeked out of his windshield and saw Scar in the flesh. It was his long lost brother. Derek could recognize that scarred face and huge head anywhere. There he was, his little brother all grown up and the leader of a crime syndicate. It made Derek proud and sad all at the same time.

He sat there and wondered what their lives would have been like had their mother not abandoned them that fateful night. His best guess was that the big-ass man that had beaten his mother unmercifully had probably returned and killed her. When Derek was a teenager, he had convinced himself that she was probably better off dead than running the streets chasing crack.

Derek watched Scar that first night and didn't reveal himself, although he wanted to rush out of the car and embrace his brother with a big hug and a sincere apology. Derek didn't know how his brother would react to him, or if Scar would even remember him.

Conflicted, Derek went home to Tiphani, who was then his girlfriend, and confided in her his secret: he was a cop and his brother was a wanted criminal. Tiphani told Derek she wanted him to do whatever would make him happy.

For two days, Derek changed his car and disguise and watched his brother. Finally, he felt he had grown the balls to reveal himself to his brother.

Derek walked up to Katrina's, the bar and lounge that Scar owned and had named after their mother. It also housed Scar's office in a secret room in the back. Derek was stopped at the door and asked what his business was, since it was a bit early for patrons.

“I just wanna get a drink, man. Long fuckin' day,” Derek said to the goons protecting the front door.

The front door man surveyed Derek, wondering if this square could be a cop or a fed.

Since he was dressed like a typical street dude, Derek was allowed entry. He ordered a few drinks and built up his courage. “He's your little brother, li'l Scar head,” Derek whispered to himself.

With his liquid courage flowing, he walked to the back of the lounge. Derek encountered a tall, muscular dude, yet another layer of security.

“Yo, man, I need to see Scar,” Derek said to the dude, trying to sound as street as he could. Derek had lost that edge a long time ago, so it was a stretch for him.

“Who the fuck are you, niggah?” the goon asked, trying to intimidate Derek with his snarl.

“Tell Scar I got information on his family,” Derek said.

The goon crinkled his face in confusion. Everybody on the street knew that Scar always proclaimed he was born from the concrete. “No mother, no father, no family. Just a pure bred street niggah,” was what he proclaimed.

“Nah, Scar ain't got no family,” the goon told Derek.

“Everybody got family. Now, tell him I got information on his family,” Derek said forcefully, not backing down.

Scar's security guard reluctantly went behind the secret door, which was obscured with police grade double-sided glass. Two minutes later, the man returned and asked Derek a question.

“Scar wants to know, if you got information on his family, where was his mother's birthmark?”

Derek swallowed hard because his mother's face came flooding back to his mind's eye. He could see her brown sugar–colored skin and straight white teeth so clearly smiling at him. Those memories were from a time when things were so good for them. In reality, the last time he'd laid eyes on his mother, she was a gaunt skeleton with missing teeth and riddled with bruises.

Shaking his head, Derek got it together. “It…it was a heart-shaped, cherry-colored mark on her left cheek, and she used to call it ‘a mother's love' and tell us she got it from our kisses,” Derek said, barely able to get the words out.

The man was really confused when Derek said “our kisses.” He looked at Derek intensely then disappeared, armed with the answer. Within minutes, the man returned and Derek was allowed to follow him back to the secret office.

When Derek stepped into the room, it was like time stood still. Scar was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk like the CEO of a legitimate company. Scar's face looked much improved. His scar actually made him look dangerous, instead of ugly and deformed like it did when he was a kid. Who would've thought an ugly birth defect could benefit him? It was as if his deformity had dictated what he was to become.

Derek was at a loss for words. He stared at Scar, thinking his eyes were deceiving him. Derek's legs were weak and threatened to fail him.

“Ain't this a bitch! My little big brother,” Scar said, standing up and stepping from behind the desk.

Derek was still speechless. Like the first time he saw the wanted poster, Derek didn't know what to do—cry, scream, or say he was sorry.

“I know the cat ain't got your tongue, niggah. You ain't happy to see your little brother after a hundred years and shit?” Scar said, grabbing Derek for a manly hug.

“I'm just so fuckin' happy to see you, man,” Derek finally managed to say. “I'm so sorry I couldn't keep my promise. I was a kid. They snatched me away from you. I had promised Mommy…” Derek rambled, shaking all over.

“C'mon, man. I don't hold you responsible for nothin'. Them white people ain't care nothing about two black little niggahs try'na keep whatever piece of family they had together. I ain't never blame you, my nig. Besides, if shit didn't happen the way it did, I wouldn't be the king that I am today,” Scar assured, offering his dumbfounded brother a seat.

“I told Mommy I would always take care of you. I'm back, and I will keep that promise,” Derek assured his brother. And he didn't lie. Although he had pledged allegiance to uphold the law of the state of Maryland, his allegiance to his family was stronger. Derek had another chance to keep his promise to his mother, and he vowed he would forever be his brother's keeper—that is, if his brother wanted to be kept.

From that day forward, Derek helped Scar stay above the law. He made sure Scar was always one step ahead of the jump out boys and the Narcotics Unit. But when the heat got turned up on Derek to make some big busts, he spoke with Scar and they agreed to put on their little show. Scar agreed to take a fall to help his brother look good in the eyes of the department and the public. It had all worked out—or so they hoped.

Derek had daydreamed about his childhood and his reunion with Scar all the way home. He looked at the bag of dirty money he held and asked himself if it was worth it. It gave him an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach. That was a lot of fucking money, and the old street credo—more money, more problems—was about to ring true for Derek Fuller.

Shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs of the past, Derek pulled into his driveway. Thoughts of his wife and her warm hugs, kisses, and hot sex motivated him to snap the fuck out of it.

Derek crept into his house. He knew Tiphani would be in the bed, and he wanted to make everything up to her—the court thing, his recent shortcomings in the bedroom, and some of the lies he told her about where he got some of his extra money from.

Derek slowly pushed open the French doors to their bedroom. Tiphani was already asleep. He went into their walk-in closet and put his loot in the wall safe. He took off his weapon and all of his clothes.

Derek planned to wake his wife with a stiff dick and a good pussy pounding. At least he hoped that he could keep it together long enough. He got himself mentally ready. This time, he wasn't going to let himself cum too fast. He told himself he would fight the urge to ejaculate as long as he could stand it—at least until she came first. Derek stroked himself to get ready. He let a glob of spit fall into his hand, and rubbed it up and down on his dick.

“Mmm,” he moaned as his manhood came to life in his hand. When he was satisfied that he was hard enough to rock his wife's world, Derek went over to the bed.

Sliding onto the bed behind Tiphani, Derek noticed that all his sexy-ass wife was wearing was a short lace cami-sole, no panties. Derek smiled.
She knew I was coming home to freak her
. Derek slid one of his knees between his wife's legs from behind to make room for him to get to her goods.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, acting like he was disturbing her sleep.

Derek wanted to laugh. He knew she was only playing hard to get. He never knew why women did that, acting like they were asleep when they knew damn well they wanted to jump up and ride the dick.

When Derek wedged his way between her legs and had them wide enough, he slid up behind her, licked his fingers, and searched blindly under the covers for her opening. When Derek touched her, she was already wet.

“You been waiting for me, huh?” Derek whispered, even more excited now.

At that, Tiphani knew the gig was up, and she turned over, smiling. Derek climbed on top of her and took a mouthful of her left breast into his mouth. Sucking roughly at first, than softening up, Derek pleasured her. She grew even more excited, letting small gasps escape her lips.

Derek was ready, mentally and physically. He reached down and grabbed his dick. It was time. He was determined to fuck his wife like she needed to be fucked.

Derek rammed his dick into her. “Urghh,” he grunted when he felt Tiphani's warm, wet flesh around his meat.

“Ohhh,” she cooed, wrapping her legs around his waist and pushing back at him.

Derek lifted his ass and came back down into the soft wetness. He grunted with labored breaths. He was excited now. The smell of sex, the sounds his wife made, the tingling he felt in his loins; it all came rushing back to his mind again. These were the same things he had experienced when he was too young to understand it.

Derek tried to hurriedly push the images of his adoptive mother's face out of his mind. But the images of her face, contorted with prohibited pleasure, kept flashing in his head.

“Yes, fuck me,” Tiphani whispered.

That was enough. They were the exact words that wretched woman had said to him when he was eleven and twelve and thirteen. “Ahhhhh!” Derek screamed out as he fought a losing battle with his mind. His body involuntarily bucked and jerked against Tiphani's, and she was left disappointed.

She knew right away that Derek had ejaculated prematurely again. Tiphani looked at the clock when they'd started, and it had read 11:43. She looked at it now, and it read 11:53.

Ten fuckin' minutes, and subtract about eight for the tittie sucking and pussy touching,
Tiphani thought. She rolled her eyes.

Derek lay on top of her, trying to get his dick hard again. “I'm so sorry, baby,” he apologized as usual.

“Just get my toys. I need to cum,” Tiphani said flatly, annoyed.

Derek felt like shit, but he jumped up and got his wife's vibrating dildo from her treasure box. He turned on the little device, wishing he could make her cum like the little plastic toy did.

Tiphani climaxed from her toy. It wasn't the same as the orgasms she had from a real flesh and blood dick, but she had to settle.

Tiphani turned over and gave Derek her back. She lay awake for the next two hours. She didn't know how much longer she could take it. It was fine when they first got together; it was easier to handle, and Tiphani was more willing to overlook certain “short-cummings,” so to speak. She thought it would get better, but this shit was getting ridiculous. So, she lay there holding out hope that someday soon there would be a light at the end of the whack-dick tunnel.

 

The next morning, Derek was up extra early. Still feeling guilty, he busied himself with making Tiphani and the kids a huge breakfast of grits, bacon, sausage, eggs, and biscuits.

Tiphani had not said many words to him since the night before. After the whole embarrassing court episode, she planned to take a few days off, and didn't feel like getting out of bed. She felt that no amount of money was worth the embarrassment she had received at the hands of Scar's lawyer.

Trying to make it up to her, Derek brought Tiphani's breakfast to her. “I'm going to take the kids to school for you. You can stay in bed all day if you want,” Derek said, trying anything to get her to smile so he would know she wasn't still mad.

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

“I love you, Tiphani. It's going to get better,” Derek said, not even sure himself. He kissed her on the forehead then turned and left.

She lay back down and pulled the comforter over her head. He had never told her about his molestation as a child. His pride wouldn't allow it. The same with his thoughts on Viagra:
Don't need no pill to make my dick hard,
he thought. Because of his silence on the subject, Tiphani did not understand the mental effects that sex had on him.

Tiphani didn't know how long she would be able to take this bullshit. She was at a real crossroads in her marriage. If she had known the true reason behind her husband's sexual failure, she would have been much more supportive, but she didn't. All she knew was that her clit throbbed all day, every day, and she needed good dick in her life.

“C'mon, you two. It's time for school,” Derek said, rallying his kids and ushering them out the door.

Derek pulled out of his driveway, oblivious to the eyes that followed his every move.

As soon as she heard the car pull out of the driveway, Tiphani threw the comforter back and jumped out of the bed. She was free from that limp-dicked excuse of a husband, and now able to take care of her needs. She walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

Stepping inside, she let the water cascade down her sculpted, muscular body. Tiphani placed her hands on the beautifully tiled shower walls as she took the massaging showerhead down from the holder and placed the pulsing head up against her clit. Throwing her head back, she rotated the showerhead up and down against her swollen clit until she came.

It's a damn shame the showerhead can make me cum, but my husband can't,
she thought to herself.

When she was done, she lathered her body, cleaned up, and turned off the water. Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from downstairs. Stopping in her tracks, Tiphani listened intently. She didn't hear anything else.

“Maybe I'm losing it,” she whispered, turning back toward the sink. She reached down to turn on the faucet and
Clang!
The bathroom door flew open.

Tiphani screamed. She had no place to run. She was trapped in the bathroom. Her eyes popped open in sheer terror, and a second scream got caught in her throat as someone grabbed her forcefully from behind, placing a huge hand over her mouth.

“Mmmmm!” she tried to scream as she struggled to see her attacker. The apparent assailant ripped her towel off of her and pushed her up against the sink in a doggie style position.

She moaned, barely able to breathe. The next thing she felt was a sharp pain stabbing through her vagina as the stranger forcefully penetrated her from behind. He drove his dick into her with brute force, and then removed his hand from her mouth.

“Oh shit!” Tiphani moaned in sudden ecstasy.

“You like when I fuck you rough?” he growled, banging up against her over and over again.

“Oh, Scar, you fuck me so good,” Tiphani huffed out as she gripped the sides of the sink. She didn't have to look at his face; she immediately recognized the feeling of his dick.

Scar pumped her from behind like he wanted to send her through the vanity mirror that hung over the sink. Tiphani loved every minute of it. She inched up onto her tiptoes so Scar could get a better angle into her soaking wet pussy.

Scar was able to sex her without coming in two minutes, and that's all that mattered to Tiphani. She was a fucking woman with needs, she reasoned, justifying her betrayal each time.

Their affair had happened so suddenly. Once she had gotten a taste of Scar's dick, she was hooked. Tiphani had to admit that Derek was the more attractive brother, but what Scar lacked in looks, he damned sure made up for in bedroom skills and dick size.

Scar pulled his dick out of her sloppy hot box and turned her around. He buried his head in her chest and licked and sucked her nipples like a baby trying to get milk.

“Oh yeah,” she groaned.

Scar lifted his head to look into her beautiful face. He felt powerful. Lifting her small frame, he cupped her ass and placed her legs around him. He positioned her onto his dick and pulled her ass into him so he could bury his dick deep into her sloppy wet pussy while he carried her. Bouncing her up and down on his thick pole, Scar fucked Tiphani all the way to the bed she shared with Derek.

Tiphani was so hot and horny she forced her tongue into Scar's deformed lips and licked his tongue. She closed her eyes tight and relished the feeling of all ten inches of his swollen manhood filling the void her husband never could.

Placing her on the bed, Scar put his knees on the bed for leverage and proceeded to drive his pole in and out of her dripping wet hot box with forceful, even pumps. Her pussy made loud slurping noises. “Ah, ah, ah, ah,” Tiphani called out, loud enough to wake up the neighborhood. That dick hurt so good, and she was in her glory.

“You…like…fuckin'…ya…brother…in…law?” Scar pumped into her with each word, his muscular legs and ass flexing as he used all of his strength to dig her back out.

 

Derek had gotten all the way to the kids' school before he realized he had rushed out and left his service weapon at home in his safe. That wasn't like him at all. He had been so preoccupied trying to make things up to Tiphani. “How the fuck did I leave Bessy at home?” he asked himself out loud as he made a U-turn and headed back home.

Derek didn't bother to pull into the driveway; he just pulled in front of the house and figured he'd run right inside. Twisting the lock and entering the house, Derek heard his wife's voice in a high-pitched tone, like she was in distress.

What the fuck?
He furrowed his brows and listened. The sound was coming from the direction of their bedroom. Derek started rushing toward the stairs, but quickly realized it wasn't a distress call his wife was making. He had definitely heard those sounds before when he was with her.

He stopped in his tracks and listened for a long minute that seemed like an eternity. Flexing his jaw with each moan and grunt, Derek balled his fists so tight his fingernails dug half-moon-shaped craters into his palms. His heart was pounding wildly, but he seemed to be rooted to that spot. He was in shock, and his heart thundered so hard it felt as if it would rupture.

Derek did not move until he heard his wife say the words “Scar, fuck me! Fuck me, Scar!” Spurred into action by her words, Derek bolted up the remainder of the stairs as if someone had strapped a rocket to his ass. He kicked open his bedroom doors so hard one of the doors flew off the hinges.

“Oh shit!” Scar yelled out, jumping out of Tiphani's pussy with one hop.

Tiphani fell off the bed and scrambled around on the floor, searching in vain to find something to cover herself. “Derek, wait!” she screamed, but it was too late.

Derek bulldozed into Scar with full force. Scar was caught off guard and naked, so he couldn't really defend himself properly. “Arrrggggghhh!” Derek growled out, swinging wild punches into his brother's face and body. Scar tried to gain some leverage, but Derek was a man possessed.

“You dirty mu'fucka! You traitor!” Derek screamed, landing more punches to Scar's face.

Finally, Scar had his bearings. He bucked Derek off of him and put Derek in a headlock. Scar landed some punches to the top of Derek's head.

Struggling to free himself, Derek thought back to his police academy training techniques. With his heavy work boots, he stepped on Scar's bare feet with all his might.

“Ahhh!” Scar shrieked, loosening his grip on his brother's neck.

“I'm gonna fuckin' kill both of you stinkin' mu'fuckas!” Derek bellowed, his voice a thunderbolt of anger.

“Derek, please! Let me explain!” Tiphani cried, trying to calm her husband.

“Explain! Bitch, what is there to explain?” he screamed. In all of his fury, Derek swung around and slapped Tiphani so hard she flew almost clear across the room. Blood squirted from her nose and busted lip.