Blac Power Couples

The name is Wilson Fulton. A lot has happened in my world recently. It's amazing how you can be on top of the world one minute and then crumble the next. Such is my reality. I'm an attorney with Fulton & Hanover, one of the top law firms in New England. It's black-owned, started by two African-American lawyers named Shawn Fulton and James Hanover back in 1977. Thirty two years later, the firm employs three hundred and forty lawyers and has offices in Boston, Massachusetts, and Manhattan, New York.

I felt proud the day I was hired, right out of law school. My father, Leonard Fulton, is a legendary attorney and the younger brother of the firm's owner, Shawn Fulton. Today, my uncle has terminated my employment. I'm twenty eight years old, and I'm an unemployed African-American attorney during the worst recession to hit America since the 1920s. It's not a situation anyone would envy. Seriously. I'm not sure what to do.

I head home. Just another brother in a suit riding the Red Line train from downtown Boston to Ashmont. I get off at Ashmont, and take the Bat Bus to Brockton. I've been doing this for a week now. My car got totaled thanks to some drunk driver, an Irish soccer mom, who rammed into me. I survived, she didn't. I feel no sympathy for drunk drivers, whether they're male or female, black or white. Idiocy isn't racially or gender biased in my book. I've defended enough morons to know this for a fact.

I sit in my living, trying not to think about tomorrow. I live in a nice house on Ash Street, somewhere on Brockton's West Side. I bought the house for one hundred and forty grand a couple of years ago. My bonus for winning a really big case. Millionaire Janet Richardson was accused of murdering her ex-husband Larry and his girlfriend Marianne Hawks. I got her acquitted. It was my first big case and I won. How about that? The fact that my wealthy white female client was guilty as sin didn't bother me one bit. I only cared about making the big bucks. Some attorneys will lie to you and tell you they care about the truth. I don't bother. All I care about is winning and getting my money.

Which brings me to my next point. I became a lawyer because I wanted to make money. My father and uncle were both lawyers, as were most of their friends. My mother, Elisabeth Stewart Fulton was a lawyer back in the day. She now teaches Criminal Justice to young women at Pine Manor College. I wonder how she's going to react when she hears that my uncle fired me. She probably won't be surprised. My uncle is one of the smartest men I know. He's also a complete psychopath. Yep, the man has no conscience whatsoever. Most people find him charming. I think he's a snake. I've met many men and women like him over the years. You'd be surprised at the number of psychopaths in the American criminal justice system. And most of them are lawyers and judges. Only a small number of psychopaths are in prison, believe it or not.

I sip on a glass of red wine while watching an old episode of Coach on cable. I loved that sturdy sitcom. Back in those days, manly guys appeared on television. Today, the only manly guys on TV are Axe Men and Ice Road Truckers, along with the NBA and NFL. Today's sitcoms and television commercials have gelded the American male psyche. It's a sad thing to behold. That's why I am very particular about what I watch. Something catches my attention. A flash of red. I pick up a picture from the living room table. It's an old picture of my ex, Martina Brown.

Back in the day, Martina Brown and I were an item. I remember those days fondly. I was on my second year at Suffolk University Law School. A six-foot-one, lean young black man with a dopey smile. That's who I was back in the day. The wide-eyed aspiring attorney who wanted to use the law to fight against prejudice and discrimination. I wanted to right social wrongs. I wanted to fight against the racism and sexism that fill the American criminal justice system. I wanted to end bias in the system, or at least put it on trial. Yeah, I wanted to do great things.

Along came what I thought was the gal of my dreams. Martina Brown. Five foot eleven inches tall, curvy, with dark brown skin, almond-shaped gray eyes and long black hair. She was a student at Wellesley College whose brother, Jonah, was one of my classmates. She brought him a birthday gift while he and I were studying on the campus library. That's how we met. You should have seen her, folks. She was really something. A beautiful young black woman whose intelligence, charm and wit seemed to radiate everywhere she went. Martina Brown and her brother Jonah were the offspring of Theodore Brown, the famous African-American congressman who put the Boston Police Department on notice during the 1990s for their racial profiling tactics.

Martina Brown was beautiful, smart, and wealthy. She was also the daughter of a man I considered my own personal hero. How could I not fall in love with her? We became friends, and eventually started dating. I was in love with her. I introduced her to my family, and even my stern father had to admit we were a good match. Martina's father and brother were friendly to me too, which surprised me. Usually, when you're dating a woman, her father and brother are the people you must fear the most. They normally can't stand any guy who wants to date one of the women in their families.

Everything was going well. Ours was a passionate relationship. I remember one particularly steamy lovemaking session we shared in a restaurant bathroom. And we had guests with us too! Martina told me they could wait. Yeah, my lady and I had it going on. We liked to keep things fresh between us. Martina was really aggressive. She kissed me passionately, and basically shoved me against the bathroom wall before we began to do our thing. I had never seen a woman who wanted it this badly. I mean, I like a passionate woman but Martina was borderline insatiable!

She unzipped my pants, and took my member in her hands. Martina looked into my eyes as she stroked my manhood. My eight inches of long and thick, uncircumcised rod of power. Gently, she eased it into her mouth and began sucking on it. I watched, amazed as she went down on me. She'd only done it once or twice and assured me it wasn't her thing. So I was quite pleased that she seemed eager to slob the knob that day. She sucked my dick and licked my balls as if she were on a race. Worked me over damn well, until I was just about ready to burst. And when I came, my sweet lady drank my masculine seed. I screamed in pleasure as she flicked her tongue over my sensitive rod. Wow. I hadn't known she could do that. Martina smiled, and told me I hadn't seen anything yet.

And truly speaking, I hadn't. We went around the world in half an hour, folks. Soon I had her on all fours and was pumping my cock into her pussy. I fucked her hard, just the way I knew she liked it. A lot of ladies like the tender lovemaking thing. Not Martina. She liked to get fucked hard. So I gave her what I knew she wanted. She got really wild, and even asked me to take her in the ass. I was surprised, but went for it. She produced a can of hand lotion from her purse and we used it as lube for my cock and her ass. Then I placed my cock against her backdoor and pushed it inside gently. I had never fucked anyone in the ass before and it was an experience to remember. Martina's ass gripped my dick like a vise. I placed my hands on her hips and pumped my dick up her butt. Martina squealed, and told me to fuck her harder. I gave her everything I had. All eight inches. And she took it all. As it turns out, I was the anal virgin, not her. We had a lot of fun that night. I wonder what stories our guests told their friends when the evening ended. Honestly, I didn't care. If more people had spontaneous sex, the world would be a better place.

I loved my lady and I thought we were going to be together forever. After graduating from Suffolk University Law School, I asked Martina to marry me. In front of the entire graduating class, of which I was valedictorian. She turned me down. To say I was crushed would have been the understatement of the century. Nothing can prepare a man for having his marriage proposal turned down. Nothing. I was humiliated, in front of my school, my classmates, my family and my friends. I was almost catatonic for the next three days.

Eventually, I moved on. I was determined to become the best lawyer I could be. I passed the bar exam with flying colors, and started working for the family firm. I met some interesting women. I dated an endless variety of them. After the fiasco with Martina, I decided not to limit myself by dating only within the race. I dated some Hispanic women, a few Asian chicks, and even an Arab woman or two. I found the white chicks in Boston to be too fake for my taste but I did have a lot of fun with a biracial woman in Cape Cod once. Just a matter of preference, that's all. I'm a young man with time, energy and money. Got to sow these wild oats sometimes. In time, I came to look at Martina's turning down my marriage proposal as a blessing. Most married guys I know dreaded coming home because their wives were real domestic tyrants. And as an attorney, I've seen enough divorce cases to feel disgusted by the institution of marriage altogether. No thank you.

Yeah, looking at Martina Brown's picture sure brought back some memories. However, I got better things to do. I'm an unemployed lawyer. My bills aren't going to pay themselves. I've got thirty grand saved up. I don't have a mortgage since I paid for my house in full but I have a lot of other things to take care of. I'm one of the biggest donors to the local YMCA and NAACP. I have a reputation to maintain. I need to find some work and quick. If not, I just might take a certain buddy of mine on his offer to join his dinky little law firm. Hey, anything is better than nothing. We're in a recession, after all.