Scammers MxM (Staten Krown)

2

It's crazy the things you think about when you realize your life is going to be over. I should have been prepared for this. I had done my research. I had always been prepared. At least I thought I was. I knew the basics. Home invasion was a first degree felony. It carried with it 15 years.

I'd be out when I was 45.

That is if I was lucky. I knew these people were rich. I can see the Montreaux family paying someone off. Special punishment for idiot who would steal from them. They'd probably get me double the time. Triple the time.

I should have been prepared for all of that. The alarm is going off. I always knew one day I'd be caught. I'd have to answer for all of my sins. I knew one day it was coming but for some reason I just didn't think it would be soon. For some reason I didn't think I would be so afraid when this day came.

So I sit down, locked in a cage. An alarm going off all around me.

That's when I see him.

"You hit hard."

Bashir Montreaux is standing there. He's in a robe. It's halfway open revealing his dangling dick still semi-hard somehow from the moments we spent together before I knocked him out in an attempt to rob his house. I can see his abs, his washboard abs. They look like hard pebbles hidden underneath his skin. His v-section is like a target pointing and aiming at his big buiging cock. He moves slowly, comfortable in his own house. His dogs have recovered. They stand by his side. His head is bleeding and he has a towel on it. He walks up to the cage in a way to show me he isn't afraid of me.

"Don't take it personal," I tell him.

What else do you say to someone who just caught you robbing them? Don't take it personal.

"I don't. I know it's been hard. A boy with a background like you. Coming in here just had to happen huh?"

"You don't know shit about me."

"Oh I don't."

"You don't know shit!" I respond, "You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I had to work for what I got. So don't sit there with that perfect face, looking like Zayn Malik or some foreign pop singer. Don't fucking judge me with your perfect hair and your perfect face. You'll never understand."

"Silver spoon? Funny."

"You can laugh all you want. You deserve what you got," I state shaking my head, "All you rich assholes do."

"I didn't get anything but a lump on my head," Bashir Montreaux states shaking his head, "The cops are on their way. You do realize that right?"

He was gloating. I guess I should expect it from someone like him. He has a smile on his face pleased at whatever the fuck was going on in his life.

"Fuck it."

I look away. The last thing I want to do is deal with this asshole with his smirk and his condescension. I can't believe I feel sorry for myself after all the shit I've done in my life. I can't believe I'm sitting here depressed.

"You giving up that easily? That's out of character for you."

"YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW ME!"

I get on the gates and shake them. The dogs start barking. I startle them but Bashir isn't even shaken up a litlte bit. He just raises his hands and his dogs stop barking. He looks at me and walks up to the gate. He's so close that if I wanted I could reach through those gates and strangle him with my bare hands. A part of me wants to do it. I hate the cockiness this guy has. The rich boy attitude is coming off of him like steam from a shower. Everything he's ever wanted has been handed to him. Everything.