The Perpetrator Part I
Copyright. By Larry Wilson AKA Dapharoah305 @ 2006.


In a fit of rage, and trying to keep it under wraps, I froze where I stood when I entered my home on Wiltshire Street, Miami-Dade County, Florida.

"Keep 'em off."

I kept the lights off.

"Come inside the goddamn house. Nonchalantly..."

Reluctantly, bile rising in my throat, I did what I was told..

Why was he whispering?

"Close the door."

Fright nearly coloring me blind, my hands trembling uncontrollably, I flinchingly closed the door, getting more eery and nervous as the hand on my grandfather clock by the start of the foyer steadily turned.

"Lock it."

I locked it. The sound of the lock jumped like angry moneys from every wall down to the start of the hallway in the form of an echo. I barely had any furniture in my home, just a simple love seat, low-table, black and white TV I bought from the Good Will and bedroom furniture. I didn't even have a refrigerator or stove because I still used my homeboy's resources at his crib. Kept my lightbill down fifty percent.

Scared and tired from a grueling day at work (and my throat parched 'cause I cussed out the Bank of America bitch at the Teller for giving me back two hundred dollars out my account when I asked for twenty) I sat down on the ottoman by the front door trying to fathom the idea of accepting this farce in my beautiful home in all black, ski-mask, black laced tightly boots and black silky gloves that shined with a certain zeal I never saw in diamonds.

"Stand up."

Hesitantly, I stood up, the niggah said it so silently I felt feathers turn to Medusa's eyes in mah blood stream transforming every vein, every artery, every pulse of my heart to stone, and now inside my soul there was suddenly the new Era of the Ice Age meets the Stone Age.

I shoulda felt like that when I hurt all those people...

The Perpetrator smiled. Smiled big, Cheshire cat smile. The eyes glittered dangerously close to diamonds. I could see the rays of the Sahara Desert sand oozing from a very wicked voice. He stood there so meticulously. So immaculately, the way he stood shot images of my ex-wife into my mind. She used to stand like that. With the head slightly slanted to the left. But this wasn't my wife, this niggah was try'na rob me. How long had he been in here? Why wasn't anything moved? Ravaged?

I surveyed my room so fast he didn't notice: six hundred dollars on my low-table, on the side of him, hadn't been touched, hadn't been moved, the crisp-feeling and smelling bills were just the way I left them. Three Rolex's on the TV, behind him, hadn't been moved.

It was then I realized he wasn't try'na rob me.

He just wanted me.

The Perpetrator kept the Beretta aimed at my chest, while I stood here, bloody and naked. My legs drummed together like a cracked out marching band sent to the wrong parade and now everything was drenched from a very unwanted summer rain in the fall of my life at the moment and now I prayed for solitude.

And I continued to turn into Winter. I could build Inca pyramids with the stone of my heart alone.

"Unzip my pants." Another harsh whisper. The words were rushed like a great, much-needed wind through my front door when I opened every morning, like I usually do, taking my 6 feet tall, 210 pound ass to work.

"Unzip..." I couldn't talk, I swallowed hard, frightened at the sight of that shiny pistol. That scary pistol. That life-threatening pistol. It was dark in this room, the glow of the moon shining through the open window housed with termite-infested wainscoting and absolutely no goddamn curtains ('cause when my wife left me two years ago, I was then 24 years old, catching me in bed with a man I told her was my Daddy's son, my brother, and he was anything but blood to me) she took our two sons, Dexter and Hector, who were Lil' Hot Boys in the making, and every piece of furniture and every article of clothing there was to take, she even took my clothes. And I never seen her again. She never called. She jumped the state of Florida and went to California where, over the next two years she got married and had two daughters, concreting her status as the Woman who Left the One Alfred Symone, one of the sexiest arrogantly-dressed niggahs in Florida. All the hoes wanted this dick. All the niggahs wanted this dick. Straight niggahs begged to fuck me or be my first. Confused niggahs just wanted to suck my dick and I never turned down free money or free head. Never. Stupid niggahs let me dick 'em down and leave 'em. Rich niggahs spent doe on me when I wanted cheddar. Crazy niggahs became fatal attractions.

Like the Perpetrator standing before me.

My so-called brother, James Black Love, was my secret lover who I wanted to be mine for a life time; I met him when I was thirteen. I fucked him when he turned fourteen. I claimed the asshole when I was fifteen when I met the beautiful Fran, who was to have both my sons and be my faithful wife. She had nine brothers and two sisters and I fucked EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM, even her delusional mother Maria. Maria with the Killer Pussy. I see why her late husband kept them babies coming: the bitch had good pussy. Goddamn. Make you yodel like Chester the Cheetah when you nut up in that shit, for real.

But this ain't about Maria. This is about her son. James. Who loved being Black. And was filled with Love. I shot niggahs over him. I never let a bitch or a man touch him. If he told me he gave up the ass to a niggah I found the niggah and beat his ass so bad I don't think the Coroner's wanted to be bothered. And then I took James to bed or a hotel room and fucked that pretty asshole so long, so hard, so fast, that he screamed out he would never give it up, I had the little bitch scared of dick after I was done. I nutted all over his ass, face, stomach, all down his throat, he swallowed my load eight times that night 'til I shot blanks. That's why the niggah got all that pretty dark chocolate Taye Diggs skin.

He was a niggah I told, "Just call me Tyrese mah niggah 'cuz I'll be there when you need me...," a niggah I fucked from here and all through his Mama's house, Brother's condo, grandma's trailer (his grandma was deaf, dumb and blind and to secretly mock her handicap I dicked him down right in front of her while she sat there trying to watch the Golden Girls by moving her old, elegant-swinging, shaking fingers over the Braille on her lap); thirteen states in three years I fucked James while we were in college having the biggest freaky sex of our young lives (like we were supposed to).

And now my life was in danger. I zipped down the Perpetrators pants.

"Pull it out," said the stone-cold freak. I look up at him. Breathing hard. I didn't know I was pissing all over my rug. Expensive carpeting at that. $12 per yard. And that could feed the homeless.

I pulled out his dick...Hard. Rubber. Mocking. It was a dildo. Thick. Filled with jelly. And when the whisper told me to wipe my piss all over it and suck it off I jumped up and the butt of the Beretta came smashing down on my head and I wound up back on my knees.

Face to face with a five foot eight perpetrator with a dildo as a dick all in my face.

"If you think I'm just gonna let you jump up in my face then no, no, NO, NO, NOO I won't have it bitch," he whispered to me. and I withered like a fat bitch falling down four flights of stairs.

I put my hand in the warm, clear-looking piss.

The Perp smiled.

"Rub it on ALL THAT PLASTIC BITCH!"

The Perpetrator Part II
Copyright @ 2006 Dapharoah305



The Perp laughed at me, silently, a hearty chuckle. I was filled with fear. I started thinking of all the people I hurt in my life, who could this person be who was in my home doing this to me? I wiped piss on this dildo, slowly, staring at it like it was holding the Beretta. I hurt so many people in my life because I was selfish. It was all about my dick and making it spit pleasure back then.

"Suck it," said the Perp, with that goddamn whispering tone of voice that drove me crazy; and not in a good way. I had a thought and I hoped I was right. What if the gun wasn't loaded? What if he was just scaring me?

What if...

"No," I shouted, my voice filling my house at breakneck speed. I hopped up to my feet so fast the Perp took a step back and shot at my feet, sparks flying from the nozzle and impulsively I hit a perfect back flip over the low-table and landed on the couch, shaking like a great snow storm was terrorizing my living room.

"Get down." Showing great restraint, controlling the voice, remaining calm and this unnerved me..

I got down.

"Get on your knees."

I got on my knees, tears falling down my face, hands trembling, legs cramping, palms sweaty, scalp itching so terribly I was too afraid to flinch, too afraid to scratch it.

"Come closer to the dick."

I did.

"Suck the dildo bitch! Suck the piss off the dildo."

"Goddamn! Why are you doing this." I looked up and the smile returned, the glittering eyes, the danger. This was unnecessary. Uncalled for. Ridiculous. Crazy. Sheer lunacy.

And yet there was something.

Something about...

Something about that smile!!!

He put the Beretta on my nose. "Suck the fucking dick bitch or Coroners will decipher your brain cells from your buggers on the fucking wall behind you."

Whisper, whisper, WHISPER! Talk, bitch! my mind screamed. I was crazed. I had a feeling if the Perp started using his regular voice I would recognize it.

I hesitantly sucked the pissy dildo, my stomach, heart and bowels moving towards my asshole for one quick release and all that came out was gas, I farted so loud I nearly passed out.

The Perpetrator didn't care.

"Dick...dick is a powerful thang, isn't it? Dick causes men to cheat, steal, rob, kill, yearn, satisfy, pleasure, commit suicide...all that. Dick...will bring about your ruin. You hurt me really, really bad..." The niggah sing-songed, like a nursery rhyme. I shook with fear. The hair stood up on my body. For one quick second the Beretta dropped to his side and I jumped up and took a swing at him, for dear life, it was now or never and he ducked, rose the back of his head into my nuts, sending me to the floor and he stomped my chest.

"Bitch," came the angrily harsh whisper. "Get up, bend over the arm of the chair, its time to show you who do the fucking up in dis house, and it ain't your Mama cunt fuck!"

I was in so much pain.

"Alfred Symone, get the fuck up. Or mah little friend will show you how big of a man he is."

I struggled to get up. He took me by the arm, gently, and helped me up, the gun aimed at my ass. I couldn't believe this.

And yet.

And yet there was something...


And yet there was something about his touch.

Familiar. So recognizable.

But from who, and where?

I started thinking about all the people I hurt in my life. All my brothers, sisters, parents, friends, family, foes...I was a selfish prick back in the day, drop-dead good looks, a die-hard body I worked on like Picasso on the regular, all the pussy I got, all the niggahs I fucked and left, left, left. Like Howard, a niggah with sickle cell (but fine as a bitch) that was my best friend since first grade. We were closer than close, we knew everything about each other. One day the Selfish side of me, when we were in the 12th grade, made me fuck the niggah. I wanted his sexy ass, 'cause all the bitches wanted him, bitches I wanted at that and he was cock blocking so I unblocked my cock and did what I had to do. I drugged his soda when we went out to eat, lured him to my Ford pick-up truck I bought for three hundred dollars from a cluck, drove him out into the wilderness, fucked the niggah in that tight asshole every which way, making him moan and scream. I raped him basically. He was fine like that. He begged me to stop, telling me some sob story that he trusted me, he was drunk anyway, and I said, "Naw niggah you gotta let me get dis asshole niggah I want this shit ! Every niggah in school wanna fuck you, you pretty bitch!" and the crickets heard him when I tore through that asshole without no lube and left him bleeding to death. I changed schools, moved out of the state with a relative and never heard from him again.

And now karma was in my house as I bent over the arm of the chair, about to shake out of my skin from the ignorance of the unknown.

What was about to happen to me?

The Perpetrator Part II
Copyright @ 2006 Dapharoah305


"Spread that beautiful ass, bitch. I remember this ass, how sweet it looked from the reflection of the mirror. I won't say what mirror, but I watch that ass wiggle when you fucked me..."

My face was pressed on the leather, the sweet-smelling leather, cold leather. I spread my ass and he traced it with the Beretta. I felt like a WHORE!!!

He slid the dildo into my asshole without any lube. I'd never been fucked before and this killed me, it was too big I squirmed.
"Take this dick, bitch! Take all of it, take all fourteen inches of this dildo fucker! I'ma show you you can't hurt me and get away with it."

He pounded my asshole, making my legs buckle, my body was on fire, this shit hurt, all the pain abashedly killed me, and then pleasure came, all this pleasure and my torso started to move against the dildo, opening me up, this shit felt good and I started to smell shit and I remember I had to shit when I came into my house and I froze 'cause I felt shit all over me, stinking the goddamn room and he kept fucking me and fucking me, grabbing my ass and spreading it, sticking all that dildo in me and it hurt and I started screaming. "Scream!" came the harsh whisper. And then it was over. I fell to the floor, covered in shit, sweat and I wanted to die, this must be hell, I was unnaturally hot, I wanted to die.

The Perpetrator looked over me. This had to be Howard. Getting his revenge, though I didn't see him for over ten, maybe eleven or twelve years. How did he find me, there's no way he coulda found me. Payback was a bitch.

The Perp began stripping. Oh God! It wasn't over. My tired eyes widened, I felt wetness oozing from my ass. I then realized I was bleeding, blood was all over the carpet, I seen it. I rolled over and pleaded. "Please let me get to a doctor."

Off came the Perp's boots. He was sitting next to me. I kept my narrowed eyes on him, I was in so much pain. Now I know how my wife felt when she found me in our bed fucking James. I met fucked James before I reaped Howard hoe ass and Howard was in my home returning the favor. He fucked me senseless. But why did he use a dildo? Was his dick too good to issue out to me? Did he think I had AIDS? A rubber woulda been just fine.

He set the gun on the chair. I was too tired and drained to move. Plus pain shot through my body. He stood up. Off came the pants and I realized he had on a strap-on dildo. Nice ass. Pubic hair sprouting from around the base of the dildo wildly. Off came the black coat. There was a fake stomach and chest on him. Why was that? What was this? Hide the body parts? Off came the ski mask. He had on a hairnet. He was looking at the floor. Off came the extra padding and the hair net and when my ex-wife Fran's titties popped from the silicon tape and her beautiful hair fell all around her face she shook it like Barbie, dropped the padding on the floor and stroked the shit off the dildo, wiping it all over my face, squatting by me so evilly. "Surprise, surprise. You think you can hurt me, screw some niggah in my bed and I let you just get away with it." She used her normal voice now, but it was different, full of darkness and evil. She looked really psycho right now, the wide eyes, the plain-looking expression on her face..."No, no, no, no, no, no..." She was shaking her head feverishly. "Naw playah, you've just been served but this ain't a summons to court, no jury, no bailiff, no fucking judge. How this shit taste?" She forced it in my mouth and slapped me across the face, repeatedly, with the flapping dildo after she snatched it off her hip. That thing sting. Badly.

I spit repeatedly, I didn't wanna taste shit!

"My husband, my loyal husband, who is the father of my daughters, told me his life story. He opened up to me, he thought if he told me about some significant part of his life I would leave him, but he told me to get revenge on you because you hurt me, you used me, you married me knowing full and goddamn well you loved men! "

She bit my dick so hard, gnawing her teeth into my skin and I screamed so loud, grabbing her head and trying to choke the crazy bitch but she bit harder, I felt the blood gushing out. She pushed my hands off her and slapped me. Hard. "I gotta call my husband and tell him what I've done."

"Why, who..., why are you doing this?"

She stood up, the woman who used to love watching my ass when we fucked, she loved the mirrors in our old bedroom...and all I remembered before I passed out was, "'cause, honey love, Howard, my husband, told me to do so, the way you brutally raped him in an open field surrounded by bushes but honey, ain't no crickets in here to witness the hysteria of your downfall, playah. After all, what are...best friends for?"

I fainted...