This is a work of fiction representing the fantasy of the cuckold lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are drawn from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. l. This story contains some sex and violence, and racial stereotypes. If you have an issue with cuckoldry, humiliation, domination, or any other trope in such fantasies, you should read no further. If you like such stories, I hope you enjoy what follows. This story happened in 1983.
This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote any lifestyle. This is merely a representation of the fantasy of the cuckold lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are drawn from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental and unintentional. This story contains some sex and violence, and racial stereotypes. If you have an issue with cuckoldry, humiliation, domination, or any other trope in such fantasies, you should read no further. If you like such stories, I hope you enjoy what follows. This story happened in 1983.
Back Road Cop
In the Boonies of Oklahoma
“Fuck,” I said as the red and blue flashes filled the interior of my car.
“Were you speeding?” my wife asked; her question, in and of itself, wasn’t the issue. No, the way she asked hurt me. The condemnation in her voice stung. My wife can humiliate me with no effort. She draws enjoyment from my pain. This is a niggling thing, which drives me insane.
“A little,” I answered as I pulled onto the shoulder of the road. “Three miles an hour, no cop gives you a ticket for 58 in a 55 zone, does he?”
“Maybe this one,” she said with smugness in her voice, reminding me, without saying I told you so, she had warned me about my speed.
The spotlight from the patrol car shown inside of ours, bathing us in bright rays. The glare from my review blinded me. I glanced at the outside mirror. He walked toward us, his right hand resting on the butt of his revolver, the other clutched the sheathed handle of a nightstick. Standing at least 6 feet 6 tall, with impossibly broad shoulders, massive ape-ish arms, and a thin waist, the man appeared monster-ish.
“You better keep your cool, baby,” she said, handing me the registration and insurance. “I don’t want you to piss this guy off. He’s black, he’s a Deputy Sheriff, so don’t write a check, with your overcompensating mouth, that your sissy ass can’t fucking cover. Remember, we’re on a job. So, take your medicine, and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
This is the same song and dance she loves—Tina always puts me down. She can’t leave me alone, but her advice, this time, was excellent. At least, minus the insults, the advice would have been fine. She understood how niggers affected me. You don’t want to piss off a black cop on a power trip. A coon in authority, fuck that is messed up to the max. I dug my license out of my wallet and put two twenty-dollar bills with my driver’s license, insurance, and registration. Money always works with jigaboos.
“What are you doing?”
“Relax, he’s a nigger. He’ll take the money and let me off with a warning.”
“Oh, baby, you’re such a loser.”
I wanted to say something, but a light in my eyes interrupted my thought process. The cop walked around the car, pointed his flashlight inside when he walked across the front of my car. By the time he smacked his knuckles on my window, I was ready to offer him the bribe. I hit the down button and held out the license, insurance, registration, and reparation for his bullshit suffering.
“Thank you, sir. I bet you been stopped for crossing the centerline, speeding, and reckless driving before.”
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I didn’t cross the centerline, and I wasn’t driving recklessly.” My mouth raced ahead of my mind.
“Honey,” my wife said, “hear the man out.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said.
I glared at her; my darling wife had this grin on her face. She laughed at me, not aloud, but under her breath. Nonetheless, she enjoyed this. Her amusement at my predicaments in life was not at all a subtle criticism. On top of everything else, we’d been at odds about blacks for years. I never liked them, my parents never liked them, we considered them a threat to white Christians, to white lives.
He scowled at me, putting the bundle of documents and money in his hand into a shirt pocket. He opened my door, placed his swarthy hand on my shoulder.
“Sir, step out of the car, please,” he said. Remaining polite but insistent, he squeezed my shoulder with his gigantic ape paw of a hand, digging his fat thumb into the flesh just above my collarbone, his gargantuan, long fingers into the muscles of my neck.
“No,” I said. I shrugged my shoulder and lurched forward, trying to make the cop let go of his grip. “Write my warning, keep the money, and return the rest, so we can go home. I had a hard, long day.”
Clutching me harder, he leaned into the car, unhooked my belt, released his hold, only long enough to let the belt pass his hand. The deputy dragged me out of the vehicle by my throbbing shoulder. Throwing me against the rear window, he leaned his massive body into mine, wrenched my hands behind my back, and cuffed them. My face felt on fire, my heart burned inside my chest.
Holding my face to the window, he put his fat lips to my ear. My wife’s tickled expression made me nauseous. My head spun as the helplessness of my position sank into my mind. I gazed at her without seeing anything but her pleased smirk. The bitch enjoyed this. Eating up my distress and humiliation like a rich pudding.
His body was twice the size of mine. He had to weigh 250 to 270 pounds, all muscles, while I’m 5 feet 8 and 140 pounds. The man pressed into me, hurting my back, letting me appreciate the simple fact, I hadn’t a chance in a fight with him.
“Your ole lady’s a beautiful, little, white woman,” he said in a hushed voice. “Bet you’d love seeing a big, black cock splitting her tiny, white pussy open, wouldn’t ya, boy? blondes, like her, always open their legs wide for black men.”
He patted me down, running his bear paws over my body. When the black cop made his way to my crotch, the deputy clutched my junk, squeezing the balls and pecker tight. Against my will, my cock stiffened to his rough touch. My cheeks flushed. As best I may, I gazed away from my wife, not wanting her to sense my anguish, my humiliation. The burning on my face worried me; I might be blushing.
The weight of his body and the situation made my head pound. What had I done to him to treat me like a homo? I’m not gay, I’m not gay, you have to believe me, I’m not. Why doesn’t he kill me? I’d be better off dead than have an erection at a man’s touch. Especially not a niggers.
“Nothing hiding here,” he released me, rose, leaned into me again, whispered into my ear. “Closet faggot got a little, stiffy pee-pee, didn’t ya, boy?”
“Stop, I’m white. You can’t talk to me in such a way,” I said.
Reaching down, he touched my slight bulge again; precum seeped. Oh shit, this can’t be happening to me. This bastard would out me to her. I twisted my head down, fuck the pre-cum leaked through. I had this small wet spot on my jeans. Tears fell from my eyes, drops hit the window.
The bitch knew, my wife’s hands went to her face, and she laughed aloud. Laughed at me, she cut me, she stomped on my pride, my heart.
“Forgive him, officer. He’s a redneck hick and wasn’t raised well.”
He continued with his assault on my body, digging in my back pocket, laying the contents on the top of my car. The friction of my clothes on my cock kept me hard. Damn, he dug in my shirt pockets. Fucking Shit, I’d forgotten about the bag.
“Suspicious white powder,” he said. “Mister Cramer, you want to tell me what this is?”
I raised my head and returned my gaze to my wife. Her expression was no longer amused. A worry-wort darting of her eyes to the console, coupled with a nervous bite of her lower lip, signaled something important worried her. Tina tried to avert her stare, but in an all but inevitable way, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the leather lid covering the little box.
In a moment of inspiration, she did what she shouldn’t do, putting her elbow on the top of the box, rested her face on her hand. By hiding the box, she put the damn thing on display.
“Will this take much longer,” she said. The bored to tears attitude as she asked the question didn’t fit with her actions moments prior. What the fuck was wrong with her? A flashing neon sign would have been less noticeable.
The weight lifted from me, the cop leaned into my side of the car. He grinned at my wife and sat in my seat.
“You really don’t want me to peek inside your console compartment, do you, Misses Cramer?” he said.
We took this route for a reason. No one used this road this late at night, not even cops. Where he came from, why he was on this lonely highway at three in the morning, who knows? Who the fuck would expect him? We drove this back road on purpose, no entanglements with the law. This bastard was fucking up my routine.
“I…I mean…what I…” she stopped collected her thoughts, “whatever do you mean?”
The innocent act didn’t fool him a smidgen. Her eyes darted to me, to him, back and forth like she watched a tennis match. In the end, Tina would have faired better if she’d peered out the windshield with a blank stare.
“Step out of the car, Misses Cramer, keep your hands in the air, and walk around to the driverside,” he pulled his gun, pointed the barrel at my wife.
“Charlie, what’s this man talking about? I don’t understand?” she said, batting her eyes. “After all, Officer, you don’t have a warrant. Can’t we talk this out?”
Pulling the baggy from his pocket, he waved the dope for her to see, “Don’t need one.”
Shit, she’s trying to flirt with him.
“I haven’t a clue what you mean?”
“Don’t act like a dumb cunt,” he said, adding, “bitch.” Waving the gun, indicating to her the direction he wanted her to go, “Step out of the car, and do what you’re, fucking, told.”
“Do what he says, Tina.”
In a few moments, Tina did as ordered, walked around the front of the car. Her short skirt threatened to show her ass as she strutted to the front fender, turned from him, her hands above her head. Returning the gun to the holster, the cop body-slammed my wife over the fender, her face kissing the hood of the car.
The rough treatment of my wife should have pissed me off, should have outraged me. Instead, my dick got stiffer, my mind rushed to terrible thoughts of him manhandling Tina like a two-dollar whore. The words he’d used about fucking her, about her willingness to abuse at the hands of blacks because she was blonde, filled my head. Electricity arched through my body as I imagined his black cock violating her petite frame.
In seconds, his massive hands searched Tina’s body. Under her skirt, copping a feel of her cunt. Her gasp told me he’d stuck one or more of his massive fingers up inside her. The bastard massaged her tits through her blouse, mangling her tiny A-cups. She squealed from the pain and probably some pleasure.
My little wife glanced about, her eyes darting around, refusing to make contact with mine. Her cheeks were beet red, and I realized he’d started a fire she didn’t want me to know about. But I fucking realized I didn’t care. Tina’s teeth bit into her lower lip. Squeezing her breast, he put his body against her, crotch to ass. Tina’s eyes widened when his massive bulge made contact with her.
With a baseball-mitt-sized hand wrapped around her slender neck, he led my wife to his patrol car. Opening the back door, the creep forced her to sit with her feet outside the prowl car. Unbuckling his belt, he tossed his gunbelt on the dash. The nigger fidgeted with his pants. Fucking A, he took the back of Tina’s head in his hand, guided her down toward his stinking ape cock.
“Stop, you fucking nigger,” I said at the top of my lungs. I didn’t want her to suss out the truth. Oh, god, what he is doing to her. A dreadful violation of her, and I’m fucking hot for this to happen. What the hell is wrong with me?
Turning his head to me, he leered, letting me in on the fact, he face-fucked her. Taking her head between his two colossal hands, he backed away from the car. The man kept Tina tucked into his body, hunched over, cock down the back of her throat; she took quick steps to keep up with him.
He forced my wife to kneel on the hard asphalt. This nigger pig gouged her throat with brutal force. His massive black cock glistened in the light of the full moon, sliding deep inside her, then out for me to see. The dark, fuck rod, wet with her spit, sliding deep inside her mouth, down her throat, he used her head like some fuck sock. Soon, he dumped on her face, her neck, and blouse.
I couldn’t believe how hard and turned on I was.
Holding Tina’s neck, he guided her back to me, forced her to kneel, then pushed me down on my knees. Tina’s cheeks were red, pupils dilated, breath ragged, the veins in her neck were showing the wild beating of her heart. Tina was either angry or turned on. I believed more turned on than angry.
I don’t think she gave a fuck if I knew, either.
Pressing my face to her, he barked out an order.
“Clean her face and neck, panty-waist, boy.”
“You can’t do this,” I said. “You’ve got rules.”
“Rules, you see anyone here, anyone at all, to enforce any, fucking, rules? Who the fuck gonna believe your sissy, pasty ass about anything, boy?”
My heart pounded, my mouth turned to cotton, and my bladder screamed at me. Clutching my neck harsher, he pushed me closer to her face. The deputy shoved my lips to Tina’s cum drenched face. My body shook.
“Do what you’re told, boy. Clean my black cock spunk off your woman,” he said. The grip on my neck increased, pain shot through my neck and down my spine. I feared he might snap my neck. Warmth flooded over my crotch, ran down my leg. A stream of my piss pooled under my knee on the black pavement.
He laughed aloud, Tina gulped.
I closed my eyes, refusing to see my wife’s eyes, the revulsion in her stare. The hatred of me she had would worsen with all that’s happened. I licked his nasty black man lacquer from her face. I wished his seed made me sick, caused me to puke. It didn’t. The dirty little secret I kept from her, I liked eating his cum.
The cop’s grip loosened. I kept licking his thick cum from her out of fear and craving. The warm man cream rolled down into my belling, a satisfying warmth filled me, not unlike a good hit of booze does. While I cleaned her, his footsteps sounded as he strolled away from us.
“He’s in the car,” she said. “He has the remote. He is opening all the doors and the trunk. You realize he’ll find the compartment with the remote. You pathetic worm, you had to anger him, had to offer him money rather than let him write you a ticket.”
“This isn’t my fault,” I said. “The remote is a garage door opener. How’s the porker pig figured out it’s important, your fault, all your fault, bitch.”
“No, it isn’t. Never your fault. Not your fault, he pounded my face, not your fault the man spewed cum on me. Not your fault you’re eating another man’s jizz. Whose fucking fault is it then? Yeah, baby boy, all your fault, always is your fault. You’re a weakling, a ludicrous worm.”
Her assault paused. A foolish hope of her dropping the insults shattered. “You can’t deny that cops a real man.”
The ding from the remote signaled his impending find of the drugs. I opened my eyes, glanced over at him—he bent into my car trunk. The police officer pulled a kilo of the coke from the secret compartment. The deputy ambled toward me, long steps, with his boots striking the pavement with some force.
“Your wife has a sweet, tight throat. What’s yours like?”
He slapped my face so hard I fell to the pavement. He grabbed my neck and yanked me to my knees. Closing his fingers around my throat, he squeezed, leered into my face.
“What we have, is enough coke to bring you a minimum of five years. I’d go so far as to say, you got enough junk in that trunk for life in prison. Now, what’s your lily-white throat like to fuck?”
“I never did anything like sucking a dick.”
“You’re a lying faggot, boy. Here’s the deal, I fuck her, fuck your throat, and fuck her again, and when I’m done fucking the two of you up, you give me 5000 bucks, and the two of you go scot-free.”
“I don’t have that kind of money,” I said.
“Lying little faggot, boy. Where you coming from?”
“Anadarko,” I said. I tried to think of a convincing lie to give him.
“No, we came from Hinton,” my wife chimed. “Fifteen hours ago, we picked up the stuff near El Paso. So, we stayed off the main roads. We took a break in Hinton, ate some food from a convenience store, stretched our legs, pulled out of Hinton a couple of hours back. For now, we are heading home. Should’ve been doing 55 miles an hour, but mister big shot had to push our luck. Tomorrow night we go across the state line to Wright Town, outside Fort Smith, deliver the merch, and get paid.”
“How much you two earning?” the pig asked her.
“Ten G’s,” she answered.
What the fuck is wrong with her. The stupid bitch gave him everything. Damn it, she may have signed our death certificates with her confession. The Columbians don’t fuck around.
“Faggot, you’d begrudge me five to keep your sorry, honky ass out of jail? No, you gonna pay.”
“You bitch,” I said. He smacked me with an open hand, and I hit the pavement again. My cheek burned, my chest constricted, and my eyes only concentrated on the black pavement. I didn’t dare to cast a glance in his direction. The man hit me like you hit a woman, didn’t have the decency to close his fist.
“She’s polite, appreciates her position,” he said. “You need to learn some manners, cracker boy. We’re all going to your house. She’ll drive the car, and you’re gonna ride with me. Drive slow, miss, don’t lose me. If you do try and lose me, won’t go well for you, worse for cracker boy.”
He helped her up. When he’d shut the doors, the compartment, and trunk, he handed her the keys and said something to her. I had no idea what, but she turned her attention in my direction. She smirked her shit-eating grin, the one which clues me to my worthlessness. Always this smile cut to the quick, emasculating like a knife through balls.
Fucking county-mountie pulled me to my feet, slammed me into the fender of his car, and then tossed me in the front seat. The pig got into the driver’s seat. He picked up the mic, put a finger to his mouth, and then opened the mic.
“This is Deputy Weller, signing off for the weekend.”
“Alexander, I’m supposed to remind you about the ceremony on Monday,” the disembodied voice was soft and sexy.
“I don’t like this fuss,” he said.
“Don’t win the medal of valor every day, Alex. One of the perks is attention. I’ll certainly be paying attention to you.”
“And what would your husband say.”
“He won’t say jack all,” she laughed. “He’s scared shitless of you.”
“Yeah, one of these days, Angela, I’m going to test you out. Will Ralph be present when I do?”
“Yeah, all eyes will be on you and that magnificent body of yours.”
“You guys find a goddamn room, will ya. And Weller, keep away from my wife.”
“Well, signing out,” the black cop said. “I’ve fucked the other deputy’s wife, at least, a dozen times.” He reached over, grabbed my neck, and pulled my face into his crotch.
He honked the horn, put the car in drive, and fished his cock from his pants. The crabapple-sized prick head touched my lips. Switching hands on the wheel, he clutched my neck, squeezed, and pushed me onto his cock.
If I’m honest, I craved his nigger cock. I opened my mouth, acted unwilling, but took his leviathan way down my throat and tried to best my wife’s sucking of him. This monster god throated me in a brutal assault. I had to close my eyes. Things just moved too fast not to make me sick. The force he used humiliated and thrilled me.
The first stream exploded when his cock had drawn back. The chunky spooge blasted across the roof of my mouth, a viscous glob struck my uvula. More streams filled my mouth before he shoved my head down and his cock disgorged the heavy glop down my throat.
“Good girl,” he said. Yanking me off his cock, he tossed me, like a used sack, against the passenger door. “I’m not going to mix words, bitch, give me trouble, and your wife pays a bad price. Your ass belongs to me; you’re my little snitch, boy.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t do this to us,” I had worded my protest in the poorest of ways. His humongous black hand grabbed the back of my head. Without any effort, he slammed my face against the dash of the car. Blood dribbled from my broken nose, “I’ll do what you want. Don’t hurt Joan.”
“You’ve a generous wife. Don’t let her down and find her ass beat when you get back, you fucking, faggot pussy.”
“You’ve no idea how hard this is for me.”
“Yeah, really hard for an inferior redneck looser, whose a pretend racist. You dream of blacks fucking her, fucking you, you birdshit cuckold.”
“I’m not a cuckold,” I said, trying to sound tough.
His face turned toward me, his eyes glowered.
My insides went mush, my head tingled, a thin tendril ran down my spine, spreading to my chest, which tightened, and this shard found a home deep inside my crotch. Moisture trickled down my right cheek, my eyes burned, and I trembled like a streamer on an AC vent.
“You piss yourself in this car. You’ll fucking clean up with your mouth.”
I attempted to calm myself but found it impossible—a strange, intoxicating mixture of fear, anticipation, self-loathing, and excitement harassed my brain. In quick, furtive glances, I drank in the sight of the Deputy. Muscles strained against the clothing, his darkness shown in the light of the dash. Niggers were sub-human. At least, according to my parents, I understood their attitude, for they feared them being our betters.
How might Deputy Weller be anything than my better? Strong, intelligent, able to control people. He owned me, with a harsh glance and rough treatment, I’d pissed myself. His magnificent prick held my attention and affection. His pecker lay on his pants, my glorious master.
“You won’t hurt her, will you?”
His lip curled into this cruel smirk. He’d do to my wife, whatever he wanted, and I’d like what he did, even if she didn’t. My mind only thought of him pounding the hell out of her. Thinking of his cock splitting her tiny pussy open, filling her to overflowing with his pungent, salty, spicy seed kept me on edge.
At last, we pulled into the drive of my home, the garage door swung up, opening the two-car parking area for us. Our other car was in the garage, getting the trunk tricked out for transport. He slid into one spot, my wife the other. He opened his door, stepped out, and wagged his finger for her to come to him.
“Stay put,” he said to me. His cock hung halfway to his knee. Soft, fat, darker than his skin. My petite wife stood in front of the cop. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor. She knelt, reached her hand to his cock, took his flaccid pecker in her soft, small hands, rubbed him. he glared into my eyes, this evil smirk on his face.
“Show your useless, boy bitch how to suck.”
While she worked on his limp cock, he took her blouse in his hands and tore the fabric from her body in two quick jerks. Leaning into him, my wife rubbed her firm, tiny breasts against his black dick. Moving her small mounds against the hot flesh of his member. His prick swelled, growing, and stood as an angry, black club ready to beat her into submission.
His eyes locked to mine, he told me, with his hateful scowl, she belonged to him. I’d glance at him and move my eyes to her sucking him. Amazed at her mouth and throat filled with his incredible shaft. Jealous of her. I’d never understood how inadequate I was. I thought all men had four or fewer inches. I’d always believed porn was fake.
After a bit, he fucked her face with a savage fury. Bucking his hips, jerking her head back and thrusting down as he lunged into her. With a quick enraged wrench, he tossed her face down on the seat, tore her skirt off. The ripping of the fabric ran inside my ear right to my small cock, making me hard as a pebble.
With one swift jerk, he ripped her thong from her body. Taking his mammoth log into his hand, he rubbed her pussy, moving the fat head around, and pushed into her. His dark eyes, gawking into mine.
Emotions welled inside me. I wanted to puke, fix my eyes somewhere else, to be elsewhere myself. My cock grew harder. Drawn to the cop as he fucked my wife, I analyzed each thrust of his hard body, driving his snake deeper into her with each lunge. I absorbed her moans, sympathized with her cries of pain, and understood the pleasure mixing with the hurting.
“He’s so much larger than you. Shit, he fucks good. Why can’t you fuck me like this?”
The insults rushed from her mouth. Cotton covered the inside of my mouth, my throat went dry, and my skin crawled. My eyes refused to sate into hers. They darted between the two, pausing on his, craving a kind glance or cruel grimace. I wanted, so desperately, to jack off, but the cuffs prevented it. Turning my wast to the seatback, I rubbed my cock against the seat. Humping and taking in his pound of her.
I lost my load, kept on humping the seat.
The black adonis pounded into her, never for a moment taking his eyes off me. Yanking her hair, squeezing her ass, or reaching under her and mangling her tits. He fucked like a wild animal, pounding balls-deep into her snatch.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, baby, oh my God, you’re my god,” she screamed.
If any of this was for her pleasure, I caught no indication in his gawk at me. He pushed her face into the seat cushion, pounding her harder than I believed she possibly would stand. He hit her pussy so deep and so harsh, so rough, I feared she’d break.
Her orgasms hit her hard, one after another. Her legs shook, her body undulated under him. My wife screamed, cried, begged him to stop, followed by please don’t stop. She paid no attention to the fact I was present. Nor did she seem to notice me fucking the car while she got fucked by him.
All this overwhelmed me. My cock spat for a small spray assisted only by my squirming about on the seatback. Again, I lost my nut. After he’d fucked her for twenty minutes, he reached over, grabbed my cock through my pants, squeezed without mercy. I lost a new load as he grunted and groaned, and she begged him to cum inside her.
“Yes,” she screamed as he filled her, “Oh, my, fucking, god. You’re a god, my god, oh, my god.”
A deep, grunting groan came from his lips. The cop pushed himself deep inside her. I understood he shot his nut. Long shudders of his body lasted for a full minute. When he pulled his cock out of her, a viscus stream oozed out of her cunt.
“Little bitch is a great poke. Too good for a maggot like you.”
Our Master, yes, I said Master. Our Master picked my wife up and flung her over his shoulder like a trophy. Turning to me, he scowled at me.
“Come on, now, step out of the car and march your ass to that door.” He reached into our car, got the keys from the ignition, gazed at the cluster of keys on the ring, “Which one opens the door?”
I had to watch him fuck her, in every possible position, until late afternoon. Our master was fucking machine, capable of lasting longer, fucking harder, and pleasing my wife more than I might hope possible.
Now to keep her safe from his wrath, I had to deliver the drugs, bring him back the money, and do so in time to please him. My meeting was scheduled at midnight, more than a three-hour drive, and I’d have only four hours after midnight to return with the cash. As I prepared for my journey, he gave me my instructions. Endning in an ominus warning.
“Bring me every fucking dime,” he said.
“That wasn’t our deal,” I said.
“It’s the new deal. If you don’t bring me the Ten Grand by four am, your old lady will pay the price.”
He ran his hand over my chest, unbuttoning my shirt. He put his hand on the peck, squeeze me so hard, I winched in pain. Callused hands, rough like sandpaper, ran over my body, making my dick hard. My head spun, dizziness overtook me, I tried to breathe. My heart pounded in a wild rhythm. I averted my eyes from his piercing leer.
“I get it, you want my cock, well, any fun to cum requires you to bring me my money by four in the morning. Now get your ass there and back, faggot boy.”