Rita Casey turns to look at the clock, "5 a.m.," she whispers to herself hoping she doesn't wake Marvin. The near tearless wife had hardly slept, Marvin's summary of their marriage plagued Rita's mind, his words still haunting her, breaking her heart over and over replaying how she is the reason for their negative financial standing. “Until now I thought everything was fine,” Rita thinks to herself. “I know some weeks have been hard, but Marvin said there are going to be down times when loads are slow in some parts of the country. But he said it would turn around, and not to worry.” Rita turned to look at her sleeping husband. Marvin lies with his back to his wife, something he has never done. Rita's red eyes begin to tear again, thinking her husband hates his wife. “God,” the crying spouse asks. “Am I a bitch? Am I a selfish bitch?” Rita sniffs again as she looks up at the ceiling. Tears stream from her tired eyes down into the canals of her ears before dampening her pillow. Her nose is soar and red; it hurts to wipe it.
It was just before sunrise when Officer Margaret Flannigan arrives home. She kicks out of her sexy black 5-inch Aldo™ stilettos as she unlocks her front door, picking up her expensive shoes and tossing onto the sofa. The weary officer begins undressing as she drags her way through the living and dining rooms to her bedroom leaving a trail of her uniform. “The night was a total waste,” the exhausted officer thought regretfully. Still, she was excited to see Marvin; it was her thoughts about him that helped her with the long drive home, along with frequent stops to stretch and refresh and her break in Waco for coffee and some light conversation like she had planned. Margaret removed her lace panties, bra, and black sheer hose as she walked toward her bed, as she pulled back the comforter and bed sheets wishing “He” was there with her, his body is so strong she imagined the depths he would reach once inside her. As Margaret lay in bed waiting for sleep to take her she thinks of Marvin's eyes, “they are like two pools of caramel,” and considers his massive cock; she thinks about it all of the time. It is the largest member she has ever seen. As Margaret closes her eyes, she whispers her prayer.
“Lord, thank you for returning me home safely and your many blessings!”
She returns her thoughts to Marvin Casey, welcoming her big black man to her dreams, submissive to his commands. Marvin's gaze bores to Margaret's core. He fills her with his concupiscence, reaching places inside of her that has been virgin until now. The girth of the truck driver's hardened penis stretches and thins Margaret's hymen, his length seem boundless, with his thrust the bulbous head punches her cervix like a prizefighter looking to score a knockout blow. The pain from his pounding is excruciating, reminiscent of her first time, but the mechanics and precision of this encounter are baffling. Margaret's urethra works overtime to maintain her moistness; the squishy sound of moving fluid is audible, Margaret looks down to see her milky white goodness coating Marvin's shaft and tight curly black hair before her emerald greens roll back into their sockets as she celebrates each far-reaching stroke. “Deeper Baby! Take it Deeper!” she moans as she endures each plunge hoping he will take her further into her darkness. Margaret's clitoris ring, an ornament until now grabs at Marvin's nappy pubic hair. The smell from the mixture of their lust excites her, losing her reality as her mind races, “Fuck Me, Baby! Fuck My Pussy!” Margaret’s mind yells, happily grimacing through each punishing blow. “Oh My God Yes!” she whispers deliriously, “fuck me until I cum all over your massive black cock!” Margaret's muscles begin to restrict, “Yes, Yes, Take It Deeper,” Margaret closes her eyes, “there is something great coming, I can feel it!” Margaret holds her lover tightly, her nails planted firmly on his back. Breathing becomes a struggle, Margaret feels her calf muscles beginning to knot; her body starts to spasm. “Don't stop!” she begs as her body temperature rises. Marvin's thrusting has reached a maddening pace; Margaret can hardly stand the pain of his pounding cock as it works to rupture her. Margaret's reality is slipping; her head is hot; she is getting dizzy as her bedroom spins out of control. “Oh My God!” Margaret's outcries, nearly losing consciousness as she explodes and then again. Each orgasm doubles with energy, Margaret can barely breathe, her fingers squeeze the thick comforter as her body writhes climaxing to another massive orgasm. “OH SHIT!” the officer yells, her body stiffens as fluid squirts from her urethra unto her bed sheets and thighs. The release was overwhelming! Margaret's abdominal muscles tighten as they prepare to push the second discharge unto her thighs. The exhausted officer gasp for air trying to regain control of her sentiments, shivers run up and down her spine, she tries to relax her quivering body.
As Margaret begins to recover she opens her eyes as she extends her hands wanting to grab her lover. But she finds no Marvin; only the rays from an intrusive morning sun searching for its way into Margaret's bedroom to bring a new day. The weary officer sits up in her bed panting, her eyes frantically survey the room finding no one, nothing was out of place. Margaret looks at the clock to learn that she has been in bed 42 minutes. She returns her head to her pillow and exhales. Margaret takes her left hand to place her fingers into the puddle of fluid rolling down her inner thighs. Her dream replays in her mind, “so real!” she thinks as she brings her fingers to her mouth to taste her juices. The smell and taste of her goodness roll her eyes in her head. “It's so good!” she says to herself as she lies licking her fingers. Back and forth her hand travels, as she feeds on her discharge like a vampire for blood. Margaret devours until there is no more. She thinks and a smile covers her face, “I could feel him inside me!” She says as her finger rolls over her hood ring and dips into the pool of moisture saturating the pink area inside of her inner labia. Margaret again closes her eyes; she concludes there is not another man for her.
Cody Brunson is suddenly awakened from the reflection of the bright headlamps of an 18-wheeler as it passes his black Ford F-150 pickup. The mirrors seem to intensify the bright beams of light; he looks around the rest area where he is parked. The sun is just on the horizon. Cody picks up his phone to see the time; he finds a text from an unknown caller. “Call me when it's done,” the message reads. Cody exhales as he places the phone back in the passenger's seat. “Fuck!” he shouts as he allows the back of his head to slam backward against his headrest.
“If I could do it all over...” Cody says out loud. The purchase of his parent's house and land, to save it from foreclosure. He voluntarily opts to pay his father’s medical bills after his heart attack. The arrest that should have happened, but didn’t. And that lapse in judgment created the opening to be blackmailed into working for The Lion. “I should have stayed in the Army!” he thought, “life was much easier when my only fears were roadside bombs and suicide bombers.”
Cody thinks about his parents and their financial issues.
The Brunson Farm has endured its share of challenges. The property neared foreclosure twice in the last ten years. Flooding has destroyed both their sorghum and corn fields two years in a row after a long drought. “Dad has sold nearly all of their livestock,” he said to himself. “The bank will no longer loan them money, they have no collateral.” It was Cody’s mother, Amanda Jean, who admitted their dire straits one night while she and son enjoyed her apple pie. His Dad, Matthew Dean, who also suffers from arthritis, continues farming with faith that God will turn things around. Cody remembers that day like it was yesterday, “talking to his Dad about their money woes was the hardest thing I’d ever done,” he said to himself.
“Dad,” he opened, “If you are what I have to look forward to in thirty years, I don’t want to grow up!” He jokes as he makes his cast. “Ha, Ha!” his father replies sarcastically. “This is why your mother and I wanted you to go to college, farming is hard on your body, and it’s a crap shoot! You never know what’s going to happen. A flood or drought; sick or diseased livestock. I’m praying every day for not too much of anything.” He grimaced as he swings his arm to cast his line, Cody winced as he watches. “Dad, if fishing hurts so much why do it?” he asks. “Son, everything hurts!” his dad confessed, “This is how it is when you have spent your whole life farming. I have worked this land since before you were born, your grandfather farmed this land and so did his father who was a sharecropper who eventually purchased the land. I wasn’t at first but, now I’m glad you will not follow in our footsteps.” Matthew Dean is silent for a moment. “Cody, we may not have the farm much longer. I’m sure your mother has made you aware that the flood washed away all of the seed, and ruined the crops. We can’t repay the loan, the bank has begun proceedings to place the house and land into foreclosure at the end of the month. If we can’t raise the money, everything will be auctioned on the courthouse steps in ninety days.” “Yeah...” she told me, Cody admits, “Dad, why don’t you let me take care of it.” His father wipes his eyes, “Cody, Son...” “No Dad!” Cody interrupts. “It’s my turn to take care of you!” Cody Brunson is an honorably discharged US Army soldier and wartime veteran. His rank, E-4P (promotable), MOS, 31-Bravo (military police). He had aspirations to achieve the rank of “E-5, “Buck Sergeant,” he earned the needed points to make the cutoff list, even attending and graduating the US Army NCO Academy in Batolz, Germany, but his Platoon leader would not recommend his promotion unless he reenlisted for another tour. Specialist Brunson declined wanting to get back home to his parents after learning of his ailing father, also there was a girl he hoped was still waiting for his return.
It was an unusually chilly early Sunday morning in November when Texas State Trooper Cody Brunson stopped Leo Alvarez and Jose Gonzalez in an old, but pimped out Honda Civic EX™ sedan with fresh paint, customized upholstery, and big, gold wheels near New Braunfels, Texas. The men were driving north on I-35, the reason for the stop, “Blown or Tail lamp Not Working.” As Trooper Brunson introduced himself and began to explain his reason for the stop, he noticed the nervousness the two men displayed, their level of anxiety was attention-grabbing, the men reminded the state trooper of the unlikely couple who was later found to be suicide bombers he came in contact with his eight month in Pakistan. Cody reacted quickly and drew his weapon, “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR, NOW!” he ordered before either of the men could become aggressive. “NOW ASSHOLES!” the trooper demanded. “YOU TWO FUCKS UNDERSTAND, “NOW” DON’T YOU?” he barks his question.
Cody Brunson’s first rule in the life lesson of “Saving Your Ass” is, “Intuition Will Save Your Life!” Draw your weapon first! Put everyone on their stomachs, with their hands visible and then figure out what’s wrong with the picture. You can apologize afterward. Leo Alvarez and Jose Gonzalez looked at each other, before acknowledging Trooper Brunson’s request, Cody locked and loaded his issued Sig Sauer P226, moving the weapon into the driver’s personal space. The two Hispanic men raise their hands in defense. “Officer?” Leo Alvarez begins, what’s the...” “SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE! WHO TOLD YOU TO TALK?” the trooper yells, the driver and passenger freeze in their seats. “I WILL END BOTH OF YOU WORTHLESS ASSHOLES RIGHT NOW!” the trooper shouted. “Sir, I..” the driver spoke again, his voice was just above a whisper. Cody could only see that he was outnumbered. “WHAT PART OF, “SHUT THE FUCK UP” DID YOU MISS, ASSHOLE!” Trooper Cody Brunson operated under the assumption that the young Latino’s were both armed and dangerous and he had no intention of dying. The sun had just risen, the war zone experienced policeman inhaled deeply. He could smell the car engine’s hot motor oil, he figures the car has been running hard for hours. The men probably came from Laredo, maybe Brownsville; both border towns were three or four hours away. He suspected there were drugs, guns, possibly both in the backseat or trunk.
Trooper Brunson snatched the driver door open with his left hand while maintaining his aim with his right, “Get Out Of The Car!” the trooper says and shouts, “GET OUT OF THE MOTHER FUCKING CAR!” Cody grabs a large portion of the collar of driver Leo Alvarez’s denim jacket, with a smooth downward motion the military veteran pulls the smaller driver from his driver’s seat and throws him hard to the ground. “FUCK!” Passenger Jose Gonzalez grabs at the door handle, turning to look at the grassy field to the right of him, thinking now would be an opportune time to run away. Trooper Brunson moves his aim to the passenger, “DON’T MOVE HOMES!” Cody Brunson’s vicious stare and the sound of the “click” halted Jose. He raises his hands higher into the air afraid to look away. Trooper Brunson placed the barrel of his revolver at the temple of Leo Alvarez, “I Didn’t Do Nothing!” the driver confessed, Cody Brunson’s voice was cold and deadly as he replied through his locked jaw and clenched teeth. “Get your God Damn Ass Face Down On The Concrete.”
The driver repeated, "I did nothing! Sir, I did nothing!" As he slowly lowered himself to the asphalt, The trooper continues his threats. “I will blow your fucking brains out, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!” It took all Leo Alvarez had to keep from pissing his pants. “Yes Sir, but I didn’t do nothing.” the driver whispers. Jose Gonzalez witnesses Trooper Brunson as he places his knee in the Leo Alvarez’s back, without taking his aim from the passenger's face, the ex-wartime military policeman used his left hand to remove and single-handedly cuff the driver. “Passenger!” the officer warns, “Fuck around and try some shit and “Homie’s” brains will be all over the shoulder of the interstate! Then, I am putting three holes in the center of that number eight of the “Aikman©” jersey you are wearing! I don’t give a shit about either of you! I can stage it so it looks like you dumb fucks made me kill you!” the trooper slowly raises.
“Passenger, you will climb over the console and exit through driver’s side door.” The passenger complies with the directions given to him by the agitated officer. Trooper Brunson enlists a long white zip tie to couple the wrist of Jose Gonzalez. Placing his Sig Sauer™ P226 back into its holster. “So, gentlemen,” he asks with a confident smile, “what’s in the car?” As the lawman expected the men were silent. “Do you mind if I a take look? No Sir, Mister Policeman! Go right ahead!” he answers himself before the driver could oppose him. “Thank you, Driver!” Cody Brunson replied with a smile. “Sir you don’t…” Cody steps on the side of Leo Alvarez’s face with his black spit-shined Cocoran™ Jump boots, applying pressure, the young Latino screams from the pain of his head being mashed into the pavement. Jose Gonzalez looks on in horror at the face of State Trooper. “He enjoying it!” the young realized, “Okay Man! he yells hoping to save his friend.
State Trooper Cody Brunson began his unauthorized search of the classic Civic 4-door. There was a Walther™ Model P22 pistol between the console and the driver’s seat. “What the Fuck!” Cody laughs as he picks up the .22 caliber firearm. “What are you going to do with this? Kill squirrels?” The war veteran laughs at his own joke, “Ring? Hello... Hey Homie, it’s your mother. She says she wants her squirrel gun back! Ha! Ha! Ha!” His insane laughter triggers Jose’s funny bone, he begins to snicker with the crazed officer.
Cody taps the trunk release, “Sir..” Leo Alvarez addresses but is cut short by the inspecting trooper, “Shut-Up!” Officer Brunson replies. He lifts the trunk lid to only find a duffle bag of clothing. Cody smiles as he dumps the contents onto the ground. His smiles drops when he sees only jeans and shirts, there was no contraband. “See Sir,” Leo states again, “We have nothing!” Cody looks at the trunk, he knows intuitively there is something there. “No Asshole!” the investigator replies, “You have a weapon.” Officer Brunson continues his study of the empty truck. He pulls the carpet mat away to see the thin particle board hiding the spare tire. “DAMN!” he shouts at the many bags of uncut cocaine. He lifted the bags, each felt like they weighed more than five pounds. “Holy Shit!” he says realizing there were at least twenty bags in front of him. The street value is nearly half a million dollars.
“Don’t say a shit! Not a fucking word!” Cody Brunson instructs as he paces. “This could be the solution!” he says to himself optimistically, “But how do I capitalize on it?” Cody looks at the man he pulled from the car, “Driver, where’s your phone?” Leo Alvarez looks at the cop, “I ain’t no snitch!” Officer Brunson kneels, planting his right knee in the driver’s left temple and adds his weight. Leo Alvarez feels his skull is about to crack. The grimacing driver groans inhaling through his teeth and exhaling by blowing. “Let me tell you what’s about to happen tough guy, passenger listen closely because you’re next.”
“Driver, in less than a minute I am going to turn you over and shoot you in the nuts with your momma’s gun, have you ever been shot with a twenty-two?” The grunting driver is speechless but, continues breathing heavily. The officer explains, “The bullet is going to rip through the soft tissue of your nut sack without slowing down until it hits your pelvic bone. The hot bullet will ricochet upward burning through your lower and upper intestines, he turns up his upper lip with a nod and shrug of his shoulders. “Your stomach, liver, kidneys, maybe until that small lead projectile hits your rib cage. Then!” he says excitedly, “that bullet plays pinball with your chest! Puncturing your lungs and heart. Hopefully, it will stop in your neck. Otherwise, the doctor won’t risk removing it. So... tough guy,” Cody lifts his knee from the driver’s head, he stands and takes his right foot to push Leo Alvarez onto his back. “Where’s your phone?”
Cody takes the small smartphone from Leo Alvarez’s front left pocket and opens the call history. “What number am I looking for?” “Ricardo...” Leo admits.“Que Paso?” the voice was deep and muffled. Cody was gambling with his career and livelihood. “If this goes wrong I will go to prison for years.” he thought. “I need to speak to your boss.” Cody Brunson’s voice was direct. There was no authority in the tone of the voice he was speaking too, there has to be someone else. “Wrong number, no Ingles,” the voice said quickly and ended the call. “Hello? Hello? SHIT!” Cody yells. He looks down at the two transporters who lye silently. He redialed the number, no one answers and a voicemail greeting in Spanish played. The idea of not being taken seriously was insulting, it pissed the young trooper off! The phone beeped so Cody Brunson left a message that would command a response.
This is the Texas Highway Patrol and Department of Transportation Officer you just hung up on! I have your homies, “Heckle & Jeckle©” in handcuffs, lying facedown on the ground on northbound I-35 and maybe a half million in snow. If you want to deal have your boss call me!”
The phone rings twenty seconds later.
“Que Paso, Home’s!” Cody Brunson says sarcastically. “We can work a deal!” the voice responds optimistically. Cody recognizes the caller, “Isn’t this the asshole who hung up on me? No, we can’t do shit! The officer scoffs. “I said have “your boss” call me!” Cody taps the “End Call” button. The phone rings immediately. “Do you realize who you are talking to? the agitated voice inquiries, I am Ricardo Dejesus Trejo!” “Do you know who I am, Ricardo Dejesus Trejo?” Cody questions, “I am the fucking cop who has your shit, and the two idiots you paid to deliver it!” “Sir, I can...” Jesse begins but, is swiftly cut off by the officer. “There’s no bass in your voice, I doubt this much dust would be assigned to you, especially when you don’t sound any older than these two worthless assholes. So, tell you what, “Day-Jesus!” have your dad or someone with some bass in their voice or some “man-sized balls to contact me. Fuck me around and call me again, and me and your “crows” will make the delivery and I will drop them a finder’s fee and send them on their way and keep the rest for myself! I doubt these two “nut sacks” are coming back to Meh-He-Co, not after fucking this up. How much is this much snow worth, a half million?” “You don’t want to do that, Mi Amigo! You don’t want to cross us!” Ricardo warns. “And who’s gonna stop me? You? Cody laughs. “Bitch! First... Fuck you! Let me tell you something, “Home’s!” I just completed two tours in Iraq, there is nothing you chicken shit, burrito-eating bitches can bring to me that I’m not ready for! No, that we have an understanding, have your fucking daddy call me!” Cody ends the call.
Twenty-five minutes had passed before Leo Alvarez’s phone rang.
“Hello?” Cody addressed. “Mr. Police Man, my name is Eduardo.” The voice was distinguished and professional sounding to the young officer. “Sir, are you the boss man?” Cody asked. “No…” Eddie looks at Tony Trejo who was listening to the call he nods,
Eddie returns to the police officer, “He has other matters to attend to,” Eddie replied, “but, Sir I have The Lion’s confidence. Now, what can we do to get our order to our client?” “Well, Ed...” Cody Brunson smiles, “I want ten thousand dollars! Ten Grand and I forget I saw your transporters.” Eddie is silent, Cody considers, “Ten grand will not satisfy the loan, but it will take the farm out of foreclosure. Another fifteen and I could buy the deed!”
“Sir,” Cody Brunson adds, “I was just thinking, who’s to say your guys won’t get pulled over by another State Trooper or Texas Ranger?” Eddie could hear the pitch for more money coming; he expected it. “So, Mr. Police Man, what is your proposal?” Cody smiles, “Sir, for an additional ten grand I will escort them to where they need to go personally.” Tony looks at Eddie, “ask him what he would do for thirty?” “And for thirty…” Eduardo asks directly. Cody paused, “Sir, for thirty grand…” I could buy the farm and place a down payment on that black truck I saw.” Cody was beginning to like this negotiating. “Sir, for thirty grand, I will deliver the product myself!” Tony nods his approval, Eddie signals and returns to the call. "So, how do we pay you?" "Wire transfer!" Cody said quickly. "I will give you the account and routing numbers when you are ready." “Mr. Police Man,” Eddie explains, “I am prepared to pay half of your fee now, I will pay you the remaining portion when I receive confirmation that the product has been delivered to my client.” “No can do, Mr. Ed!” Cody laughs to himself; “I want my money now! Like Elvis said, “It’s now or never!” Eddie looks at Tony, The Lion nods with a grin, “I like him!” “Okay, Mr. Police Man, I am ready for your routing information.” Cody looks down at Leo Alvarez. "I am going to need that duffle bag."
Cody Brunson remembers quickly paying the balance on the loan and transferring the remaining money to his savings account, as a safety precaution. He figured people with that kind of money could take money as fast as they give it. Cody released Leo Alvarez and Jose Gonzalez. He delivered the product without incident and the following day he stopped at the bank to pick up the deed for the farm to deliver to his parents. That afternoon while on patrol he received a phone call on his personal cell phone, it was Ricardo Dejesus Trejo.
"Officer Brunson, this is Ricardo Dejesus Trejo, how are you today mi amigo?" "Who the hell is this?" Cody snapped. Check your messages and call me back." the call ended. Cody looked at his messages to see photos of himself delivering the cocaine to the buyer in the university parking lot in Waco, there was no denying the images, it was clearly him. Attached to the photos was a message. "I have a job for you."