by MT Pope
Hustling on the Down Low
M. T. Pope
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Prologue - Corey
Chapter 1 - Avery
Chapter 2 - Leroy
Chapter 3 - Monica
Chapter 4 - Corey
Chapter 5 - Clayton
Chapter 6 - Avery
Chapter 7 - Leroy
Chapter 8 - Monica
Chapter 9 - Corey
Chapter 10 - Clayton
Chapter 11 - Avery
Chapter 12 - Leroy
Chapter 13 - Monica
Chapter 14 - Corey
Chapter 15 - Clayton
Chapter 16 - Avery
Chapter 17 - Leroy
Chapter 18 - Monica
Chapter 19 - Corey
Chapter 20 - Avery
Chapter 21 - Leroy
Chapter 22 - Monica
Chapter 23 - Corey
Chapter 24 - Clayton
Chapter 25 - Avery
Chapter 26 - Leroy
Chapter 27 - Monica
Chapter 28 - Corey
Chapter 29 - Clayton
Chapter 30 - Avery
Chapter 31 - Leroy
Chapter 32 - Monica
Chapter 33 - Corey
Chapter 34 - Clayton
Chapter 35 - Avery
Chapter 36 - Leroy
Chapter 37 - Monica
Chapter 38 - Corey
Chapter 39 - Clayton
Chapter 40 - Avery
Chapter 41 - Leroy
Chapter 42 - Monica
Chapter 43 - Corey
Chapter 44 - Clayton
Chapter 45 - Avery
Chapter 46 - Leroy
Chapter 47 - Monica
Chapter 48 - Corey
Chapter 49 - Clayton
Chapter 50 - Avery
Chapter 51 - Leroy
Chapter 52 - Monica
Chapter 53 - Corey
Chapter 54 - Clayton
Chapter 55 - Avery
Chapter 56 - Leroy
Chapter 57 - Monica
Chapter 58 - Corey
Chapter 59 - Clayton
Chapter 60 - Avery
Chapter 61 - Leroy
Chapter 62 - Monica
Chapter 63 - Corey
Chapter 64 - Clayton
Chapter 65 - Avery
Chapter 66 - Corey
Epilogue - Corey
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
Hustling on the Down Low
Copyright © 2017 M. T. Pope
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6228-6560-4
First Trade Paperback Printing July 2017
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
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“The trouble with loyalty to the cause is that the cause will always betray you.”
—Transformers: Age of Extinction
Acknowledgments
First, to God be the glory for the great things he has done.
Trying to sum up what I went through writing this book would take a book to explain . . . lol. Let’s just say it was a roller-coaster ride. One day up and another down. If you are reading this, I finished the book. This is one that I hope you will enjoy as I do with all the selections that are released through me. This is my seventh full-length novel and a slightly different type of read.
Again, I want to thank my biological family, spiritual family, and literary family, all of whom have given me the push that I need to survive and thrive in this life. Thanks again for taking a chance once more on M. T. Pope.
Prologue
Corey
“The choice is yours,” I heard my father speak. His voice sounded louder than normal, and it echoed throughout the room that we were in. I looked at him in his eyes and knew that he was serious. Very serious. I looked over at Dre, and my heart sank. His hands and legs were tied to a wooden chair. We were in the small room with two of my father’s men standing in two corners of the room with my father in the middle close to Dre. I was against a wall with my body positioned toward them and the only door to the room. There was only one sound in the room that I heard, and that was the beat of my own heart. I was speechless. I didn’t think that I would ever get caught. Now, here we are. I sat freely, unlike Dre. My father paced around Dre with a gun in his hand. All I could think about was the worst thing possible. Dre dying right in front of me.
“I can’t believe that my own flesh and blood was a dick and ass chaser. Here I am doing all that I can to provide for you and your mother, and this is what I get as a reward. A fucking faggot. You had me fooled.” He slapped Dre in the head with the gun, causing blood to splatter and run down his face. Dre didn’t show any signs of weakness, though. He didn’t budge at all. He looked at my father in the eyes the whole time. There was no sweat covering his face. No trembling or any such thing. He was the soldier that he portrays himself to be.
“And this was the piece of shit that you were sleeping with the whole time underneath my nose. You were supposed to be my right-hand man, and here you are dicking down my son, my own flesh and blood. You had me fooled. You had us all fooled. You all were fucking like rabbits, and then sitting at this table like all was right in the world. The ultimate betrayal in my book. I’m looking for a gay drug dealer with two right in my face.” He then spat in my face. The hate was real on his face. I was no longer his son right now.
“As I said before, the choice is yours. You are going to choose your boyfriend’s fate. A slow death or a quick one?” He looked at me, and then at Dre. Chills went down my spine. But I didn’t show the hurt that I felt on the inside.
He then walked away from me and over to the table where a cooler was sitting on top of it. My mind raced with curiosity of what was in the cooler. It seemed like it took him forever to open the top to reveal what was inside.
“Here, we have slow death.” He held up what looked like a syringe with blood in it. “This is a fresh dose of slow death or what is known to most as HIV.”
My heart sank once again.
“Now, how do you want your boyfriend to die? His death is in your hands.”
Chapter 1
Avery
Trophies
There was a cold silence in the room. Only the breath that entered and exited the bodies of those in the room could be heard. Fear had made its way in the room as well. I sat in the shadows and spoke from the darkness that covered my identity. Several other people were in the room, but they were irrelevant now. We were at a secret location that was in the middle of the city; out in the open but very well hidden. Fear was in his eyes. He knew why he was here. We all knew. One would think that my reputation for the ruthless acts that I’ve dealt out would speak for me, but there was always and always will be a nonbeliever. Someone to try your motherfucking hand.
See, they knew that I was gay and proud of it. They called it a weakness. Sissy, f
aggot, come catcher, shit chaser: those were the nice names they called me . . . us. I lived with it, thrived in it even. They were just names. They had no idea what it was to live in my world. They didn’t care. Just call it a name and hope it goes away. Yes, those names hurt before, but I was numb now. Like I said before, they are just names.
So, this straight guy in front of me came in under the guise of a flaming sissy. I had to admit that he played the part well. He must have watched hours of RuPaul’s Drag Race and the likes of it. One flaw, though. He wouldn’t take or give up the dick or ass. He was close, but his ass bowed out at the last minute. See, to be a part of my crew, you had to be a top, bottom, or versatile. Gay was a must to be with me. He almost made it. I let him float around like I usually do when new recruits come into the fold. Let them get familiarized to their new environment. Then they must prove themselves. No, they didn’t have to kill anyone . . . at first. But they had to be good in bed in their prospective positions in bed. At the least, they had to give good head. This guy couldn’t and wouldn’t do either.
When I first had my suspicions, I put him in the room that I use for testing a person to see if a person is who he says he is. You can’t fake being gay. Putting them in this situation only has one of two outcomes. Either way, I loved the show and got some good nuts out of the positive outcomes, which were most.
In this scene with the infiltrator I had in front of me, I had him sleeping in a room that was his own “private room.” I had one of my guys that was very easy on the eyes go into the room while he was asleep and seduce him.
I watched as the scene played out.
My boy crept in like the pro that he was, stark naked and ready for whatever, even an ass whipping if that was what it came to. My men were loyal and ready for anything.
There was sound being recorded as well for my pleasure. I wanted to experience it all. Sick bastard, you say. Yes, that was me.
The guy was asleep in the full-size bed that was pushed against one side of the room, wearing only a tee shirt and boxers. His body was spread-eagle on the bed as if he was at home. He snored and grunted in his sleep.
My boy eased onto the bed with him. He didn’t even flinch. I watched my boy crawl on the bed and immediately went for the guy’s dick. I watched as he reached his hand into the boxers and began to massage his manhood with his mouth. I was hard and horny just watching as it all played out. He feverishly began to go up and down on the guy’s dick. Then dude woke up. He popped up out of the position he was in and then began to beat my boy like a savage. I had men posted on the outside of the door waiting for my cue if the situation went left. In this case, it did. I signaled them to go in and break up the situation, and that is how I ended up with this guy standing before me.
“Who do you work for?” I asked him in an even-toned voice. He was already scared. I didn’t have to push him to fear me or the situation.
There was silence on his part. He was an average-built guy, not too heavy or thin, and he was very easy on the eyes. The person who sent him thought that we were as superficial as many gay men lead folks to believe. They were wrong. Dick and ass had no face, and most men would fuck or be fucked by anything that could pleasure them. Most lied and said they had standards, but they didn’t. Many would let you poke them in any hole, including a nostril.
Anyway, since he didn’t want to talk, I motioned to my men a signal that they all knew. They began to fully undress him. I had some big brute gay men on my force, but he didn’t care. He fought even though he was thoroughly outnumbered.
When my guys first brought him in the room, they threw him into the middle of it.
“All of y’all are just a bunch of faggots.” He then spit at one of my men. It infuriated my guy, which caused him to step to the phony. The guy positioned himself to fight. I smiled from the shadows. I loved fighters that I knew were going to lose in the end.
“Take your best shot at this faggot.” My guy taunted him like he was a bull. The guy didn’t hesitate and threw a blow that landed and could be heard. But my guy didn’t even flinch. Instead, he laughed.
One of my other men repeated the last scene with the same results, leaving the guy baffled and angry, so he charged one my men, and then the inevitable happened.
One forceful punch to his midsection and all his fight abruptly ended. I watched in delight. Two of my men held him up as he was now dazed and weak. He was naked, and his head hung low. He was now silent.
“Lift up his head,” I instructed one of my men.
His eyes were glossy and struggling to focus, but he tried.
“Are you going to answer me, or am I going to have to persuade you?”
Spit laced with blood flew toward me but fell just before reaching me, giving me his answer. I was seething on the inside, but I didn’t let it force me to respond. I just reached for the remote on my desk that opened a secret compartment in one of my walls. It was my “trophy case.”
I pushed the button and watched as it opened and revealed my cherished collection. I let the doors open fully, and then I spoke.
“Sit him in the chair and turn him toward the wall.”
His eyes were now fixed on the dozen jars that were on my mantles. Six large jars sat on each mantle with dates written underneath them. I smiled. They brought me great pleasure to look at them.
“Bring one close to him so we can see if he can guess what’s in the jar.” I motioned to one of my men, who carefully retrieved a jar. I saw the horror and fear cover his face instantly. His reaction was like most. First, he lost his bowels, and then he collapsed. My men hoisted him back to his feet. He was now willing to talk. But it was too late. He took the assignment to try to infiltrate my business, and there were always repercussions for actions. They say life is a gamble. I had the dice, and he was out of luck.
I pressed the button on my remote to release a screen from above, and then one of my men hooked up the video of the hour. I loved this video. We all did, but there was one person in the room that wouldn’t enjoy it at all.
I pressed PLAY and the movie began. The sobbing began, and then the crying. This wasn’t the sound from the movie, though. This was live theatrics from my latest infiltrator. Then there was the sheer shrieking of his voice that let me know that he knew his fate would be sealed. You see, I was a special kind of maniac. I wanted you to remember me for a lifetime. So early on, I enlisted the services from one of Baltimore’s best plastic surgeons, one who happens to be gay, and brought him on my team. He showed up when I called without hesitation or fail. He was very good at what he did, and I had the proof on my mantles, and pictures too.
“You see, I hate wasting a good piece of dick, and God surely blessed you in that area.” I looked at his plump and ample manhood savoring it for a moment; then I continued, “But I have ways, and those ways will not be aborted for one person. I don’t give second chances. So off with the head,” I laughed; then he began to beg and plead like any man would when threatened with the loss of their family jewels. There are a few men walking around with flaps like real live Mattel Ken dolls because of me. I’m sure they aren’t talking about their situation because what man is going to reveal that type of information? Yes, some have killed themselves, but most just live on in shame and pain-filled flashbacks of what used to be. A memory of their last ejaculation did keep some alive.
The doctor came in and with the assistance of my men, wheeled him into the room that would forever change his life. It didn’t take long, for the sounds of his pain could be heard throughout the compound. I had speakers in every area so I could make announcements and play warning sounds such as this one, reinforcing fear in the hearts of the ones that have pled loyalty and those with envious eyes. There is always someone waiting in the wings for your demise or a slipup, even the ones you trust.
Too many have come up against me and tried to take me and my organization down, but I won’t be stopped. I had just about every illegal entity and activity on lock. Yes, there was a gay m
an on top, and that’s how I intended it to stay. I would fight until the end. Nothing was off-limits to me or my crew. Baltimore was in for a rude awakening. We were taking dicks, and the city with it.
Chapter 2
Leroy
Pumped
“These dick chasers are fucking everywhere.” I banged on my steering wheel as I pulled in the gas station. A car full of them was right at the pump in front of me. Music was blasting in the car, and they were gyrating and shaking their bodies. It made my stomach twitch. Other people around found it amusing, but I didn’t. It was downright disgusting to me. Nobody wanted to see that shit.
I blew my horn, alerting them to my presence. They paused and looked at me, and then burst out into laughter. They commenced to continue their show and paid me no mind. I was seething on the inside.
I unbuckled my seat belt and went to unlock the car door when my wife reached over and touched me on the arm.
I turned and looked at her.
“Roy, what is up with you and gay people? They’re not doing anything to you. Let them live,” she said with pleading eyes.
“What the fuck you mean let them live?” I spat back at her. “This shit is just disrespectful. I don’t want my son growing up seeing this shit. Shit is wrong as fuck.”
“Roy, all of that tension and anger is not good for our son either. What about that?” She looked at me like she just checked me.
“Who the fuck side are you on?” I looked at her like she was crazy.
“Side? There are no sides, Roy. They just like you and me. Human.”
“That shit ain’t human or natural. That shit is nasty. They not real with all that shit going on. Real men don’t act like that. Real men carry themselves with some fucking dignity and go hard for their family. Like I do and shit.”
I unlocked the door and got out of the car and proceeded to do what I was about to do before she interrupted me.
