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‘Oh snap,’ thought the driver coming back from the grocery store. He slammed the brakes as he passed the tennis public tennis courts. He looked in the rearview mirror and spotted nothing behind him. He reversed and turned into the parking lot.

The two dudes playing tennis were White. One wore a pair of silver basketball shorts with no shirt. The other was wearing black performance pants and a gray wife beater. They were between points when they saw the sporty two-door, bright red 265-horsepower 2011 Porsche Cayman pull up.

“Look at that,” the tawny-brown haired dude yelled. His hair was cut very short around the sides and back of his head. The hair was longer on top and slicked back using gel. It worked well with his strong jawline and square, dimpled chin.

“Damn,” the other small town White boy called out. He scratched his bare chest. His flaxen locks were in a long buzz cut – short all over, but long enough to still be called hair. “That’s a sweet ride.”

The driver exited the vehicle and walked up to the fence. “Excuse me,” the slender dude with the milk chocolate complexion said.

“What’s up,” the one in the gray tank top walked over.
“I’ve just moved back here and I love to play tennis. Is there a league or anything here now?”
“Not really? But there’s a bunch of people that come out most nights about 6:30.”
“Okay! Thanks!”
“Nice ride!”
“Thanks! You guys playing tonight?”
“Yeah. We’ll probably be back.”
“I’ll bring my racquet then.”

The owner of the Porsche got back in the vehicle and drove away.

Lavar Dewberry crept up the driveway and brought his sports car to a rest in front of the L-shaped, red brick, 2,089-square foot, three-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath, one-story home belonging to his parents. He pressed the button to open the garage and went inside the house.

Lavar’s parents, Ira and Joyce, built the home when he was much younger. They moved in during the summer between his freshman and sophomore years of high school. Ira Dewberry was retired now after working for over 30 years as a power plant operator. Joyce was still employed as a machinist at a plastics manufacturing facility.

Ira and Joyce had worked hard together achieving their version of the American dream. The area where they made their home was close to 80% White. Around 17% of residents were Black like them. The remainder of the population was mostly Hispanic – Mexicans and Salvadorans. There were a few Filipinos and ethnic Chinese, but not many. The Dewberrys were special. While Lavar and Leland grew up, they were one of only 17 couples in the town that had a spouse each that worked at the two top paying plants in the county. And, there was only one other Black family in that 17.

Leland was Lavar’s brother – three years younger. He was currently living way out west running a large government-funded social service agency. Leland had a six-year-old daughter, Serenity, who was the apple of her grandparents’ and Uncle Lavar’s eyes.

Ira and Joyce were well onto their way of paying off their thirty-year mortgage when Lavar called seven years ago and asked what they owed. At the time it was around $30,000. Lavar told them he wanted to pay the remainder. He was shocked it was that much, but learned that institutional racism had made it so that his parents got a much higher interest rate than their white cohorts. Also, they had to use a second-tier mortgage lender versus a local bank. He was pissed, but wired the money to the loan company.

Lavar had worked as a stock broker. He made a very nice living trading. After working in Manhattan, he tired of the rat race. He decided to retreat to the quaint, albeit imperfect, north Florida town where he was raised.

He walked inside the house. He rounded the corner and went into the kitchen. He saw his dad watching CNN in the living room.

“Hey,” Ira said. “When you put that away, can you bring me a bottle of water.”
“Okay. Just a minute.”
“No rush.”

“I saw some folks playing tennis,” Lavar shared. “So I stopped and asked them if there was a league.”
“What’d they say,” Ira accepted the beverage.
“Apparently folks show up every night around 6:30.”
“You think you’ll go sometime?”
“I’m going tonight.”
“Oh okay!”

That evening, Lavar went back to the courts. There were a few people hitting balls. He shut off the car and joined them. He ended up playing against one of the guys he had seen earlier – the darker haired one. They agreed to play one set.

Lavar let his opponent serve first. The first game was close. Lavar let it go to three deuces. He got tired of toying with the due and won the next two points. The five-foot-seven-inch 38 year-old with the 27-inch waist and 33-inch behind ended up winning the set six games to three.

Lavar went to the bench and grabbed his towel. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

“You’re good,” the brawny White guy opined.
“Thanks! You’re not bad yourself,” Lavar praised him.
“You said you was from around here,” the country-bumpkin-esque dude checked.
“I grew up here.”
“That’s casino oyna what’s up, man! Why’d you come back.”
“It was time. I’ve been away for a minute. I got tired of the hustle and bustle of the city.”
“Where’d you live?”
“New York.”
“And you came back here? Crazy.”
“It was time. I needed to reset.”

“You got a sweet ride,” shared the defeated person.
“How long you had it?”
“Two years. I’m Lavar by the way.”
“I’m Tyler.”
“Nice to meet you, Tyler! May I ask your age.”
“I’m a senior.”
“Okay. How old?”
“Eighteen next week. And you?”
“I’m close to 40.”
“No way. You look young as fuck.”
Lavar giggled, “I get that a lot!”

“Can we do best outta three,” Tyler asked. It ain’t often I play somebody good as you.”
“I have some time. Give me a second.”

The others began leaving the park. Soon, it was just Tyler and Lavar going at it.

Tyler battled hard. He won the second set seven games to five.

Lavar was feeling irritated. He had every intention of schooling the young whipper snapper. He was serving. He opened with an powerful ace. Then they got playing on his next serve. They were both sweating and panting.

During one of the side changes, a gold 2012 GMC Terrain SUV drove slowly past the tennis court. Tyler made a big waving gesture. He saw Lavar looking at him out of the side of his eye. “That’s my mom! She probably thinks I’m out drinkin’ or somethin’.”

“Do you need to go,” checked the stock market whiz.
“Naw! I’m finishin’ this match,” the six-foot, athletic guy with hazel eyes declared.
“Suit yourself!
“You ready old man,” chuckled Tyler.
“Yep,” Lavar postured.
“You’re cocky!”
“Just confident,” laughed Lavar.

Tyler served this game. Lavar returned.

When the match came to an end, Lavar was the victor. He won 6-3; 5-7; 6-4.

“By god, you’re good,” Tyler admitted.
“Thank you! We should play again.”
“Gimme your number. I can hit you up so we can set up matches.”
“Good idea. You play on the varsity team here?”
“We ain’t got one. I play football and baseball though,” bragged the hunky Caucasian.
“What positions?”
“Wide receiver. Shortstop or first base.”
“You must be good,” smiled Lavar.
“I am!”
“I can tell you’re athletic. I need to get home.”
“Aw-rite! I’m gonna hit you up soon.”

Lavar got in the two-seater. Tyler hopped into his yellow crew cab 2009 Dodge Ram Pickup 1500. They drove away.

That night, Lavar received a text from a number he didn’t recognize. He tapped it to see who it was and what they wanted.

-This is Tyler. I want a rematch.
-OK. Let me know when.

Lavar went back to watching the sitcom on his laptop. A picture message came through.

-Suck it!
-Excuse me?
-My bad. Meant that for my gf.
-Oh OK. I was about to say. LOL
-Were you gettin happy when you seen it?
-Go to bed.
-You’re not my mom. LMAO
-No. But I could’ve been your daddy. HAHA
-Yeah right. You’re a faggit!
-Oh my. That’s harsh!
-I’m messin wit u. Chill out,
-Don’t you have school tomorrow?
-Don’t worry about me. Next time I’m gonna whoop your ass on the court. LOL

Lavar tossed his phone to the side. And continued watching the program.

The next day, he went to the bank. He explained to the teller that he wanted to open a new account. This branch was the only national chain in town. The other banks were local to the area. He waited until a woman he faintly recognized stepped out of small office and called his name.

He walked into the room and took a seat. The employee had pictures of a boy and a girl on her desk. There was a beveled glass name plate that read, ‘SHANNA ROBB’.

“Did you used to be Shanna Brewer,” inquired the customer.
“Yes, Lavar! I was wonderin’ if you’d recognize me,” giggled the bleach blond lady.
“How have you been?”
“I’m good. Just raising these k**s you know. What are you up to?”
“Well, I’m relocating back here.”
“Why,” she laughed.
“Time for a change.”
“I can understand that. How can I help you?”

“I wanna take some money out of my savings account and open one for my niece,” he advised.
“How old is she?”
“Great! We can do a custodial account. Do you know her social?”
“Yep! Are those your k**s?”
“Yeah! Tyler and Madeline.”
“Nice,” Lavar remarked neglecting to say he had bested her son in tennis last night. “Who did you marry?”
“Do you remember Brock Robb. He was older than us. He played football.”
“Yeah I do.”
“Well, I got pregnant right after I graduated and we got married.”
“I guess,” she rolled her eyes. “What’s your account number, Lavar?”

Lavar gave the information.

“Your balance is $28,762.83. How much do you want to open the new account with,” Shanna checked.
“Fifteen,” the Wall Street veteran advised.
“Okay! Fifteen hundred.”
“No. Fifteen thousand.”
“Can I be your niece,” she chortled.

Shanna tapped her keyboard. She had Lavar sign the forms via the electronic pad. She printed copies for his records.

Lavar went back to the tennis courts that evening. This time he played one set of doubles. Tyler and a butch-looking, off-duty female cop. Against him and canlı casino siteleri the other guy Tyler was playing the first day he stopped to ask about a league. The obvious lesbian was good. Lavar, and the guy he came to know as Devin, were beaten 7 games to 6 with a tiebreaker of 7 points to 3.

“Suck it, Devin,” crowed Tyler.
“Retard,” yelled Devin.
“Good game,” the police woman said.
“Yeah! You play well,” Lavar complimented her.

As Lavar walked to his vehicle, Tyler called out, “Hey, man!”
Tyler jogged over. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Buy me some beer?”
“Just buy me some beer. You seem cool.”
“I can’t do that. I know your mom.”
“You do?”
“I had to go to the bank today. She helped me. She was a year behind me.”
“Oh fuck! Did you tell her you know me.”
“See you are cool. Please buy it. My cousin ain’t textin’ back.”
“That’s i*****l.”
“It’s a victimless crime. Come on!”
“Maybe I can buy a six-pack and leave it on the side of that building up there.”
“Yeah! Here’s some money.”
“I can’t accept money from you. I gotta run to the store.”

Lavar drove to a gas station. He bought some beer and dropped it back off at the spot he said.

Later he was on the phone talking with an ex. “You’ll never believe this.”
“What, sexy,” inquired the older Dominican man.
“There’s a k** I met through tennis here. Turns out he’s the son of this White guy I had a crush on when I was a high school freshman.”
“Did you fuck him?”
“No, I was too afraid to say I was gay back then. Small town in the Nineties.”
“Oh,” chuckled the salt-and-pepper, handsome janitor. “Gonna fuck the son instead.”
“Shut up! You’re crazy. The k** turns 18 this week.”
“He better watch out!”
“Let me get off this phone with you. Have a good night.”

Lavar hung up. He checked the text from Tyler.

-Thanks for doing that

-Another mistake?
-Nah. I meant to send that to you. I like your lips.
-You’re silly. Nite!

The weekend rolled around. Lavar, Ira, and Joyce drove the 50 miles to a mid-size city that had a shopping mall and a number of eating establishments. He treated his folks to dinner at a steakhouse. His mom was dying to stop by a department store so his dad navigated the graphite 2014 Nissan Armada to the door. Joyce ran inside. Ira and Lavar waited in the vehicle.

Back at home, Lavar settled into his bedroom. His phone was buzzing. “Hello?”
“Hey! It’s Tyler!”
“How are you?”
“Bored. Kinda drunk.”
“Yeah! I’m drinkin’ some beer.”
“What do you want?”
“Come hang out with me. Bring some more beer?”
“I can’t do that.”
“My dad’s a firefighter. He’s at the station until 6:00 a.m. My mom and sister went to visit my cousin for the weekend.”
“Call your girlfriend.”
“She’s a prude. She don’t put out.”
“What am I supposed to do.”
“I know you’re a sissy. I just want my cock sucked and maybe fuck you.”
“But you’re…”
“I’m home alone. I’m legal. Let me feel them lips. Come on! Do me a solid. I got a nice cock. You seen it!”
“Text me the address.”

Lavar could not believe what he was doing. He had been back in his hometown for almost two months and had not had sex at all. He was horny. And, Tyler was an attractive guy. He left the house telling his folks he would be back later. He stopped off and picked up a case of beer. He arrived the 1800-square-foot clapboard ranch house.

Tyler let him in. The 18 year-old was wearing a pair of camouflage Bermuda shorts and a black Milwaukee Bucks Giannis Antetokounmpo jersey. “Thanks, man,” he smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Lavar said. “You don’t have anybody else to call over?”
“I wanted to chill with you! Is that a crime?”
“No it isn’t. Why me?”
“Cause you got big soft lookin’ lips and and li’l onion booty.”
“Oh wow!”
“Yeah! I also seen some dudes online fuckin’ sissies like you. I wanna try somethin’ different.”
“So, you’re not a virgin.”
“But you never been with a guy?”
“Nope. Been wantin’ to try.”

They went into Tyler’s unkempt bedroom. It smelled like a mixture of corn chips, sweaty socks, and butt.

Lavar scrunched his face.

“My bad,” chuckled the strapping young man. He sprayed some air freshener. “My room says my room stinks.”
“It’s just part of being a teenage boy,” Lavar tried to seem less put off.
“I guess.”

They each opened a can and started drinking. It wasn’t long before Lavar was on his knees. The newly minted millionaire pulled out the host’s thick 7½-inch pink prick. He sucked it like a pro.

Tyler grabbed a fistful of Lavar’s neat, thin dreadlocks. “Goddamn! This is best head I ever got! It’s true what they say!”

“What do they say,” Lavar said after extracting the dick from his mouth.
“That dude’s suck the best cock!”
“That IS true,” opined Lavar who quickly went back to work.
“Look at that round booty. That’s why I like Black girls.”
“Oh you do?”
“Is your girlfriend Black.”
“Nah. But the girl I took to prom is. She didn’t put out. Suck this dick so I can fuck you!”

Tyler had Lavar bend over his bed. He smacked the cheeks canlı bahis and went inside.

“Oh, damn,” whined Lavar. “Be gentle!”
“My bad, sexy!”

Lavar worked his tail in circles accepting the sex.

“Your ass is tight as fuck,” remarked Tyler.
“Your dick is big!”
“You like this White cock, sissy boi?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Take this redneck dick, Black bitch!”
“Oh my god! You’re so nasty!”
“Fuck yeah, fag!”

WHAP. WHAP. WHAP, Tyler slapped the bare jiggly ass cheeks.

“I could fuck you all night,” the teen declared.
“Fuck me as long as you want,” wailed Lavar.

Across town, Tyler’s father, Brock, was sneaking out of the fire hall. He was meeting up with a brown sugar cutie named Jacinta.

Jacinta was a busty, five-foot-five, chick with big brown eyes and a voluminous ghetto booty. She had a long honey-blonde weave.

The fireman with the buzz cut and slightly graying goatee, had been fucking the bad ass bitch for almost a year. Her pussy got super wet and she loved his 7¾-inch rod.

Brock got into Jacinta’s little hatchback. She drove down the street and parked behind the elementary school. Brock banged her juicy pum-pum.

“Oh shit, baby! Take this White cock,” Brock commanded.
“Yes, sir! Fuck me, zaddy,” she purred.
“Love fuckin’ yer big ol’ ass. Yer my li’l chocklit drop, girl!”
“I love that dick! Give it to me!”

Brock nutted and Jacinta drove him back. His relationship with her was an open secret among the firefighters. They didn’t tell on him. He didn’t snitch on them and their shenanigans.

“Fuck my boipussy,” screamed Lavar.
“Yeah, bitch! Take my cock,” Tyler howled thrusting speedily.
“You fuck like a jack rabbit, boo!”
“You like this shit, punk! Take it!”
“Yes, sir!”

Tyler pulled out and soaked Lavar’s rump with his baby batter. “I like fuckin’ that ass. You wanna stay for a while.”
“Come on. Chill with me. My cock is gettin’ hard again.”

Lavar stayed. He gave his ass to Tyler three more times during the night. Both were passed out from drinking when Lavar heard the rumble of an engine. He jumped up. Tyler grunted and rolled on his stomach.

Lavar searched for his clothes. He peeked out the window and saw Brock getting out of a jet black 2016 Ram 1500 Quad Cab truck.

Brock entered the house and yelled, “Ty, whose car is that outside?”

Lavar crept away without being seen.

A couple of days later, Ira decided to burn some leaves. The fire got a little out hand spreading throughout the yard. He let it go for a while then put it out. “Lavar, I’m running out for a few. Will you keep an eye on the back to make sure the fire doesn’t kick back up?”

“Yeah, dad!”

Lavar was making a sandwich when he heard a loud pop. He looked outside and the back of the shed was ablaze. He called 9-1-1. The fire department was on the scene in less than eight minutes. One of the firefighters was Brock Robb. He was a little thinner than Lavar remembered him from school, but still built like a stout lumberjack.

Lavar called his parents. Each rushed home.

After the fire was put out, Lavar said, “Thanks, Brock!”
“You know me,” asked the man.
“I was like 3 years behind you in school.”
“Wait. You’re that smart Black boy. Lavar, right?”
“Is that your Porsh out front?”
“It is.”
“It was at my house the other morning.”
“Yeah! Was my son up to no good,” he grinned.
“I don’t care. He’s gonna do what he’s gonna do.”
Lavar snickered, “Boys will be boys.”
“And men will be men,” winked the former linebacker.
“Very true! Do you like whiskey?”
“I have some really good Japanese whiskey you should try. So, I can thank you properly.”
“Bring it by my house tomorrow. I’m off. Wife’ll be at work. k**s got school.”
“What time?”
“8:45. Too early?”
“That’s perfect!”

The next morning, Lavar headed out to the Robb residence. He carried a bag containing a bottle of s*******n-year-old Hibiki.

“Come on in,” grinned the handsome rugged White man with blue eyes. “We can down to the rec room.”
“Great! I brought the liquor.”

Brock produced two glasses. Lavar poured some in each. They sipped experiencing the smooth, delicate flavors and subtle intensity of sweet plum and sherry.

After a couple shots, Brock spread his legs and scratched his crotch. “Did Tyler fuck you?”
“Huh,” Lavar was startled.
“Did my son fuck you?”
“I’m gonna assume he did. He likes Black girls. And you got a butt like one.”
“It’s cool. He’s 18. I wanna try you out.”
“I used to see you checkin’ me out in the hall. I woulda fucked you back then. I was a horny bastard.”
“You were?”
“Still am! Come suck it!”

Lavar studied the meaty dick. He licked it from the base to the mushroom head. He wrapped his lips around it and went to town.

“Sit that ass on my lap, bitch,” ordered Brock.
“Ooh, daddy! It’s big! You ever fuck a fag before?”
“Once. Best fuck I ever had.”
“Oh wow!”
“You’re hotter though! Fuck this booty hole is tight!”
“Your dick is so fat!”
“Yeah, you Black sissy. Take this big White cock!”

Brock held onto the effeminate bottom as he delivered deep, full length strokes.

“Owwwww,” whined Lavar.
“Your faggy pussy feels good.”
“Fuck me, Brock!”
“Gimme that nigger boipussy!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Ahhhhhhhh,” Brock grunted and released his load.

He planned to fuck the bitch again in a few minutes.

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