What's Really Hood!

by Wahida Clark

  “Look, you little piece of shit. You think you just offed some petty-ass dope boy, let me bring you up to date. That dope boy was an undercover DEA agent named Percy Smith. And the woman was his fiancée.”

  Crook stared at the officer unfazed before he finally said, “I guess y’all bleed too.”

  Losing all control, Green stood over Crook and kicked him in the chest as Crook fell backward onto the floor. As Crook lay there trying to come to his feet, Green began to approach. An excessive commotion outside the door made him hesitate.

  Going to investigate, Officer Green opened the door and as he did so he was greeted by a masked man wielding an assault rifle. “Back the fuck up,” ordered the masked man.

  Officer Green was no dummy. He didn’t know the identity of his attacker, but he could see his eyes. They were cold and without mercy. He knew that if he didn’t comply, his life would be over.

  “Cuff that pussy and take his shit,” ordered the masked man. Crook stared at one of the twins in disbelief. Unlike Green, he knew exactly who was under the mask. After standing, Crook threw a right punch square on Green’s jaw, causing him to fall to his knees, following through with a kick to his face. Green lay sprawled out on the floor, lying in his own blood and piss.

  After paying Green back, Crook did as the twin told him and walked out into the common area only to see eleven other masked men with guns ready for war. Jihad had already been retrieved and the unsuspecting officers had been bound with their own cuffs and stripped of their arms. They had taken over the police station with military and strategic hood precision.

  “Let’s go,” ordered one of the twins as the young army turned and exited the station.

  Once they were in the cars, things were no less tense as the threat of opposition still hung in the air. They were almost at the garages when Crook finally looked at Jihad and said, “That nigga we killed was a Fed.”

  “What?” asked Jihad unbelievingly.

  “You heard me,” replied Crook. “He was an undercover DEA agent.”

  “Fuck it,” replied Jihad nervously. “Ain’t shit we can do about it now.”

  Finished talking, the crew arrived at the garages and once inside, Crook and Jihad were loaded into a waiting truck where Teku and Tree’s sister, Love, waited anxiously with a smile on her face.

  “Y’all niggas is crazy!” she said, not able to believe they had pulled it off. When the twins had first told her their plan, she tried to reason with them but they weren’t much for reason. When they left the spot and told her to go to the garages and wait, she truly believed the next time she would see her brothers would be through bars or in a casket.

  “You gonna drive?” asked Jihad as he pulled Love out of her trance.

  Without answering Love began the drive toward one of the safe houses, located up the river about thirty minutes away in Donora. By the time they reached the house, both Jihad and Crook were high-strung. The trip had seemed to take an eternity, which gave them time to realize the predicament they were in. In a rush, the three of them hurried inside and collapsed on the sofa.

  Love looked at the two best friends and asked, “What now?”

  FOUR

  While Jihad, Crook and Love thought of their next move, Tree and Teku were busy trying to clean up any evidence that might link them to the assault on the police precinct.

  Once nightfall came they sent three soldiers to get rid of the cars used during the breakout. Each drove in a different direction so that the cars were scattered all over Pittsburgh. The next move the twins made was cleaning out their crib. Eventually the police were gonna come knocking and warrants would be issued and served. Nobody wanted to get caught slippin’. And just a little over three hours later the twins’ door came crashing down as a full SWAT team entered the premises, preceded by a barrage of tear gas canisters.

  Although expected, the police’s sudden entrance startled the two brothers as the tear gas caused them to suffocate. As they clutched their throats and gasped for air, the intruders beat them viciously with their batons.

  Eventually the attackers relented and the twins were escorted into separate rooms and interrogated. However, instead of being questioned, the twins were threatened and given demands. When they didn’t cooperate they were beaten. And still they didn’t break, so they were left for dead.

  No arrests were made. The police didn’t have any evidence to hold Teku or Tree, but things were personal. As the officers filtered out of the twins’ home, they vowed to break the crew “one way or another.”

  The twins lay on the floor in pain, knowing they had started a war. However, neither man cared. As children they had seen the police murder their father during a simple traffic stop, having mistaken him for a stickup boy who had just robbed a local convenience store. Since that day the twins had rebelled against any type of authority.

  Tree was the first of the two to find his footing and make his way into the living room to check on his brother. He then cradled Teku’s head in his lap, promising revenge. At the sound of his brother’s promise, Teku opened his eyes and began to smile.

  As time passed the twins realized they would live. With lots of bumps and bruises to mend. Teku took a trip to the emergency room to have his head stitched up, but most of the injuries were minor.

  That night in the hood, all hell broke loose as any brother affiliated with Point Blank Mob was snatched off the street and questioned about Jihad and Crook’s whereabouts. In all, twenty-seven brothers were arrested for firearm and drug violations due to the searches that were performed prior to questioning. By the time KDKA aired the eleven o’clock news, Jihad and Crook were the city’s most sought-after criminals. The anchorwoman said, “Today, a new precedent was set in the criminal world as two men, arrested for the murder of an undercover DEA agent named Percy Smith, were broken out of jail by members of their gang, known as Point Blank Mob. Deshawn ‘Jihad’ Williams and Michael ‘Crook’ Drake of McKeesport…”

  The anchorwoman went on to explain that sources stated Point Blank Mob had been the target of a yearlong federal investigation. However, no indictments had been handed down as of yet.

  As Tree and Teku sat and watched the report, Jihad, Crook and Love did the same.

  “We need to get out the state,” said Jihad nervously.

  “Fuck the state,” retorted Crook. “We need to get out the country.”

  Jihad couldn’t believe how fast shit had gotten fucked up. There was plenty of money, so relocating wasn’t an issue. But now he realized that everything he knew and loved was gone.

  He thought about Monique. They had been together since ninth grade. When Jihad got a year in juvenile, she wrote him every day. At nineteen he spent fourteen months in the county fighting a murder case and she never missed a visit. Can I walk away? Jihad thought as he turned to Crook and said, “I need to see Monique.”

  Crook understood. He knew that he couldn’t deter his friend, so instead of arguing he turned to Love and asked, “Can you make it happen?”

  “Yeah,” replied Love. “But you know you’re taking a chance.”

  FIVE

  The day after the breakout, Monique sat in the passenger seat of Love’s ride as tears rolled down her face. She hadn’t slept and her eyes were swollen. However, all the tragedy in the world could not conceal her beauty. She had deep chocolate skin with a natural radiance that illuminated any room she entered. At five foot six, 125 pounds, she was that girl. And that girl belonged to Jihad.

  As the two women drove, the tail was obvious, but they continued on without a care as they pulled into the Century III Mall’s parking lot. Once out of the car they proceeded into the mall and began to shop.

  As they walked in and out of the stores, Monique kept asking, “You sure this gonna work?”

  Love continued to reassure her friend, but deep down inside she wasn’t sure. It was time to find out, as they entered Kaufman’s Department Store and walked toward the women’s clothing.

 
; While they browsed through the aisles, Love finally spotted the female who resembled Monique. Their eyes met and Love ducked into the dressing room. Five minutes later Monique followed.

  In the dressing room there wasn’t much time as the two women quickly switched clothes. After getting dressed, Monique exited the dressing room and headed to the register with the other woman’s choices.

  After paying for the clothes, Monique walked to the exit and into the parking lot, where a brand new beige Pontiac Grand Am sat waiting, just as planned.

  She was a nervous wreck as she fumbled with the keys. After extensive effort, the car turned over and she pulled off.

  She had no written directions because Jihad had not wanted anything in writing that could lead to the only safe place he and Crook had. Monique prayed she would find her way. Love had been pretty clear and as Monique manipulated the car through the small city streets of Donora, she became confident that she would be all right.

  The trip from the mall was uneventful. Monique wasn’t the paranoid type. Dealing with Jihad over the years had given her the ability to overcome stressful situations. She pulled up in front of the small yellow house on Allen Avenue. Overwhelmed with emotion she saw her man open the door.

  Hurrying from the car, she made her way up the few steps as Jihad stood there waiting. Without thought she fell into his arms and opened the floodgates of emotion that she had been keeping at bay until she could see for herself that Jihad was truly safe.

  Inside they walked down the hallway into the bedroom. Monique wasn’t stupid. She knew that this might be the last time she would ever see her man. She couldn’t follow him, he wouldn’t allow it. She was in her last year of college, studying to be a teacher, and he always made her promise to graduate. It was important to Jihad that she succeed and he would help her no matter what. During her freshman year she had come up almost ten thousand dollars short on her tuition and when she explained that she would end up having to attend community college, Jihad left, only to return ten minutes later with the money, saying, “I want you to take this money and do right.”

  If it had been any other man, Monique would have been surprised. But with Jihad, nothing was a surprise. He had taken care of her since the first day they met and given her everything, and now she would return the favor. She looked at him and said, “Tonight there ain’t no limits. I love you more than I love anything in this world and I never want another man to say I was his first anything.”

  Up until that point in their relationship, the sex had been relatively reserved. Monique had always been conservative when it came to sex. If needed Jihad always had a woman ready to handle his fetishes, because he never pressed her into doing something that would make her uncomfortable. But tonight would be different. Monique stepped back and began to remove her clothing.

  As Monique undressed, Jihad sat back on the bed as he felt his manhood rise to attention. He had watched her undress a thousand times, but never had her demeanor been so erotic as she caressed her firm breasts, running her fingers over her fully erect nipples, which were shaped like gumdrops. Then, almost as if she were reading his thoughts, she pushed her right breast up, taking the dark, thick nipple inside her mouth and sucking it lavishly. Jihad couldn’t believe it. He sat and watched, feeling as if the swollen muscle between his legs would burst at any minute. Knowing she had her lover’s attention she walked closer to the bed and lifted her leg, placing it on the bed and giving him a clear view of her most intimate spot. Unable to control himself he began to rise up off his elbows to meet her. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

  “You want this pussy?” she asked as she began to run her well-manicured finger over her clit.

  Jihad was speechless as he watched in pleasure and pain as his woman played with her pussy, teasing him.

  “You know this is your pussy, don’t you?” Monique stated more than asked. “I want you to see that I don’t need no man.”

  He was screaming inside as he watched Monique open herself up and curl her finger deep inside, stroking her G-spot. He watched as the nectar of her fruit reflected the dim light of the room. He wanted to taste her. To consume her taste buds with her warm, sweet juice.

  “Let me taste you,” he begged.

  Wanting to satisfy her man, Monique climbed on top of the bed and straddled his face as Jihad pushed his tongue deep inside her. The sense of hunger he felt overwhelmed him as he sucked feverishly on her pussy.

  As he pulled her lips apart he ran his tongue along the walls of her pussy. She bucked and pressed her pussy firmly against his face while grabbing the back of his head, trying to pull him inside her. She was about to explode. Her first thought was to back away so as to prolong her pleasure, but her body’s need to release won out as her core shuddered and erupted with an explosive orgasm.

  For a moment she was dazed and silent as she held on to Jihad’s head for support. Never had she cum so hard. Never had she felt so free, and in an attempt to make it last she began to lower herself from Jihad’s face, saying, “Now it’s your turn.”

  Monique wrapped her warm, soft hands around his dick and began to stroke him. In the past they had satisfied each other orally but Monique had always been somewhat apprehensive about it. Tonight she was anything but as she took him in her mouth, stroking and sucking him until his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he warned her, “I’m about to cum.”

  His words didn’t deter her and being afraid that she hadn’t heard him he repeated himself. This only made her more determined as she took him deeper in her mouth. Unable to hold back, Jihad grabbed her by the roots of her thick black hair, pushing himself deep inside her as he released his hot load in her mouth. Never missing a beat, Monique savored the taste of her man, making sure she didn’t leave a drop.

  Unable to move, Jihad lay there as Monique curled up next to him and lay in his arms. “I know you ain’t done?” she whispered as Jihad looked at her unbelievingly.

  “I don’t think I can move,” he responded.

  “Turn over,” she said.

  Unable to disobey her, Jihad turned lazily on his stomach as Monique began to massage his shoulders and back. Her touch was draining him of any energy he had left as she ran her tongue lightly across his skin, taking time to kiss each and every muscle. Jihad was almost asleep when Monique descended below his waistline and gently placed kisses on the cheeks of his ass. Slowly manipulating the area, she worked her way down until finally she spread his ass apart and ran her tongue through his crack.

  He was fully awake now as he tried to crawl from her touch but she wouldn’t be denied as she slid her tongue in his forbidden hole.

  More than a few females had licked his ass, but to have Monique do it heightened the pleasure. It wasn’t the act itself, but the standards she set for herself as a woman, that gave him an exhilarated sense of power. At this moment Jihad knew that she was living out her fantasies and the fact that it was with him made him feel supreme.

  By the time she finished Jihad was rock-hard as she turned him on his back and mounted his hard long pulsating cock.

  “You ain’t never gonna forget this pussy,” she said as her hips pulsated up and down. Never before had a woman exercised this much control over him. For the moment he was her slave. He had to do something. Her demeanor challenged him and his pride couldn’t allow her to be in complete control as he pulled her leg underneath him and threw her on her back.

  Unwilling to yield to his power, Monique continued to buck under his weight until he lifted himself up on his hands and thrust himself deep inside her.

  “Oh, now you want to fuck me,” she taunted, but the taunts turned to gasps and moans as her pussy expanded, allowing him to enter her completely.

  “Turn over,” he demanded as he pulled himself to her.

  Eager to have him back inside her she quickly turned onto her elbows and lifted her ass so he could enter her.

  Without hesitating, Jihad slid his manhood
deep inside her as she backed into every stroke. The ecstasy was unbearable and Jihad knew he was losing control, but instead of slowing down he pushed harder, filling her with his cum.

  Knowing that he had just spent himself inside her, Monique ground and gyrated her hips while squeezing her vaginal muscle, trying to hold her man inside. Surprisingly, she felt him start to rise again.

  Monique was determined to not stop now as she hollered out, “I want to feel you in my ass.”

  Jihad pulled himself out of her pussy. He lifted her ass up roughly as he spread her cheeks apart. He licked her hole, tongue-fucking her tight virgin ass as she hollered with pleasure, “Fuck me. Fuck me now!” she demanded.

  Jihad raised up and mounted himself behind her as he began to work his large cock into her ass. She was so tight he had to grit his teeth against the pleasurable ache as he penetrated her tight, juicy ass. She screamed out in pain as he buried his dick deep in her ass. Her screams caused Jihad to push deeper inside her as her muscles gripped his dick like a vise. A look of pleasure crossed Monique’s face as multiple orgasms started to rock her body.

  “Don’t you ever forget this ass!” she screamed out. “I want to feel you cum in my ass.”

  As if on cue, Jihad shot his load deep inside Monique.

  SIX

  Three days had passed since Monique’s arrival, but now the time came for her to leave as they stood holding each other. No words were spoken. They knew this was good-bye and words would only complicate things. It had been years since Jihad last shed a tear but now his stomach turned and his vision became blurry as he pulled Monique close to him and said, “You gotta live for both of us.”

  Knowing that was Jihad’s way of saying good-bye, she kissed him one last time, saying, “I’ll always love you.”

  With that she turned to leave, but before she went Jihad grabbed her arm, pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to her, saying, “That’s twenty-five thousand dollars. I’ll try to get you something more once I get situated. You know I can’t keep in touch, but somebody will. Just do me a favor and graduate. Then get the fuck away from here.”