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Timing Is Everything by Shooter3704

Timing Is Everything 

Timing Is Everything

Timing is Everything

Watching porn was something I seldom did but I watched the DVD with rapt attention. I didn’t attempt to analyze the emotions the disk produced in me.

The woman, a petite little thing, was being fucked by black men. One at a time, two at a time, and once a full blown gang-bang. From what I could tell she loved the experiences and she seemed willing to take everything they could dish out.

It was a raw production. There was no, or at least little, attempt to have a plot and the theme, if there was one, was to see how many black cocks the tiny woman could take.

The camera operator zoomed in close on the meeting of cock and pussy, cock and ass, and cock and mouth many times during the sixty minutes the disk used. I didn’t make it through the entire disk.


It’s true that timing is everything. I offer these examples as proof.

My name is Sam Crawford. My law practice was just beginning to make money. My wife left me, and my grandmother called me to her bedside to inform me she was leaving everything to some charity I never heard of.

My wife leaving had nothing to do with granny changing her will and Granny losing her feeble mind had nothing to do with Suzi leaving me. The fact that finally my practice started doing well had nothing to do with anything.

I came home from the office one afternoon about a year ago to find a note from Suzi that said she was leaving me. It went on to say it had nothing to do with me but she felt suffocated by marriage and wanted out. The divorce was conducted by mail and that has both an upside and a downside. The downside is the lack of face-to-face closure.

Suzi and I met while we were in college and we married right after I finished law school. We celebrated our third anniversary the month she departed my home and hearth. I had no idea where she went or where she might be.

Suzi worked for a while then her company went belly-up and she was unemployed. She had applications in everywhere within a fifty mile radius to no avail. I knew she was depressed and discouraged but I thought she would snap out of it.

Granny called for me about the same time my divorce became final to tell me she had gone crazy. She didn’t put it that way but that’s what it amounted to. She told me she was going to leave all her money and estate to some ‘save the cat’ foundation. I told her that was fine, patted her old wrinkled hand, and left. It was fine because at the time I had no idea just how rich the old bag actually was.

I found out a few days later when I was notified she had died and I had inherited her estate. Granny may have wanted homeless cats and dogs in upstate New York to get her money but she didn’t get the will changed in time. See, timing is everything.

When her attorney told me what I inherited, I nearly passed-out. The old bag was loaded. She owned property all over the country as well as several businesses. Her bank accounts were staggering. Fifty million and change in just one of ten or twelve accounts. Thank you Granny, you old bag of bones…make that, you old RICH bag of bones.

I paid the bill for a nice but inexpensive funeral. Not many people showed up because she outlived most of the people she knew. I aspire to that, myself.

Because I was suddenly too rich to work, I closed my law practice and spent my days taking care of the business of being in business. When my ex-wife crossed my mind, which was fairly often, I missed her. Suzi would love being rich. Me, not so much.

I suppose my problem is I am common. I like ordinary things. I could not care less if my suit cost fifty dollars off the rack at J.C. Penny’s or fifty thousand hand-tailored. A car to me is just transportation and not a status symbol. My twelve-dollar wristwatch works fine and does exactly what a ten thousand dollar timepiece does…tell time. I like plain food. A nice hamburger is preferable over rich fancy French fare. Well, except French fries. My point is I didn’t enjoy being rich as much as Suzi would have.

One afternoon I was on my way to one of the companies I owned across town when my old Toyota broke down. While I waited on Triple A to send someone, I looked around. I spotted an adult bookstore a few doors down and went in it.

I suppose I’m like a lot of men and some women. I like porn but only in moderation. My attention span for porn is only about fifteen or twenty minutes, tops. Anyway, I looked over the thousands of DVD’s, magazines, and the like.  I had been in the store for about fifteen minutes when something on the cover of a DVD caught my eye. It was the picture of a woman who looked remarkably like my ex-wife. This Suzi look-alike was standing between two large black men and she was holding both of their cocks.

The title of the disk was “Suzi in Wonderland”. Someone who looked like Suzi that was named Suzi? A coincidence? I found it hard to believe so I bought the disk.

“That flick is one of our top sellers,” the old man behind the counter told me. “Almost as good as her first one.”

“She has another movie?” I asked and he directed me back down the row of shelves and I eventually found the disk. It was titled, “Suzi and the Boys”. The photo on the front showed the look-a-like with three black men all of them were naked and she was sandwiched between two of the men. The third appeared to be waiting his turn.

I paid for the two disks and got back to my car in time to meet the mechanic AAA sent. He was shaking his head sorrowfully while looking at my car.

“I guess you want me to haul it on to the junkyard,” the man said. “Ain’t worth fixin’ up.”

I told him to do that but I hated to see the old car go. It had been my source of transportation since I started college. It had well over two hundred thousand miles on it but it had been a good one. “So long old paint,” I said as the wrecker hauled it away.  I called Ruben to come get me.

This is a good time to tell about Ruben Jones. I met Ruben Jones by accident just after I started law school. Suzi and I were bar-hopping one night and happened to go to a seedy bar in a seedy part of town. Our meeting was not auspicious by any means.

Frankly I was more than a little drunk and I accidently backed into Jones and spilled his beer all over him.  I should have apologized profusely but drunks don’t use good judgment. His vast size should have been a warning but I ignored the warning my brain was trying to send.

“What’s the matter?” I said looking up at his face. Yes, I said looking up. He was six feet and eight inches tall and damned near that wide. “Can’t you see where you are going, fool?” Suzi was pulling on my arm trying to get me to shut the fuck up and leave. I stood my ground.

“Who the fuck you callin’ fool, fool?” he growled and advanced closer. If we had been outside in the daylight he would have blocked out the sun. He doubled his hands into fists that were as big as whole hams. I doubled my hands into puny fists and swung one of them at his massive head.

By rights, he should have killed me. One blow would have done it but he never landed one. The only blow I threw hit him high up on the left side of his head right where the jaw hinged. I put my full one hundred seventy-five pounds into the blow.

When the huge man fell to the floor, out cold, everyone in the bar was shocked and none as much as I was. I discovered that Ruben Jones had a glass jaw. He called it a sweet spot.  By dumb luck I hit that exact spot and knocked him cold.

I sobered quickly and let Suzi pull me away to the bar. When I backed up to the bar the bartender sat a draft beer down by me.

“What did you say your name was?’ the beer tender asked me.

“They call me Killer,” I said. To this day, I don’t know where that came from. No one had ever called me Killer.

“Right,” the man said. “That there man, beginning to come to is Ruben Jones and he’s likely to kill you when he gets up. Drink this free beer and haul ass, Killer.”

I should have drank that beer faster or left it on the bar and high-tailed it out of there but I was too slow. The big man slowly got to his feet. He stood swaying and shaking his massive head for a few seconds then came to the bar. He stopped in front of me.

“Why didn’t you finish it?” he asked me. “I was down and you could have stomped me so why didn’t you?”

“Truthfully I didn’t really mean to take a swing at you,” I told him fully expecting him to tear my head off.  “I had no reason to even hit you let along stomp on you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said after looking at me closely for a moment. “You are the second man to ever put me on the floor. The first man was my daddy and I was twelve. Are you some kind of Jap fighting man?”

“No, I’m a lucky man,” I admitted. “Let me buy you a beer.” He grunted and nodded.

I ran across Ruben a few times after that. When I started my practice, he was one of my first clients. When Suzi divorced me, Ruben spent two days and nights with me while I drank myself into a stupor. When I became a wealthy man, I looked up Ruben and offered him a job.

“Doin’ what?” he asked.

“This and that,” I told him being vague because I didn’t know. “Making a lot more than tossing drunks out of a strip joint,” I said.

Little did I know how valuable Ruben would become. I made him an executive assistant. Ruben got things done and I never inquired how he did it. Something you don’t want to know. Applying the principal that no problem is too great if you throw enough money at it, I got him a concealed-weapon carrying permit in spite of his arrest record.

I liked the idea of having someone close to me that was armed. Often I carry large amounts of money and if Ruben’s size didn’t scare them off his big-ass gun would.

I used Ruben as a fixer. If there was a problem I’d send Ruben to fix the problem. He had not failed yet. Ruben was also a getter. If I wanted theater tickets that were impossible to get, Ruben got them for me. If I wanted a hooker, Ruben would get one for me. You name it and Ruben could produce it.

“That old wreck finally died, huh?’ Ruben said when I got into the new Lincoln the company owned and he drove. “Bout damned time.”

“Do not speak ill of the dead, Ruben,” I said. I laid the two DVD’s on the seat and he glanced down and then took a longer look.

“Is that who I think it is, boss?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sure looks a lot like her, but I don’t know if it’s Suzi or not.”

“Can’t be,” he said. “She’s too much of a prude to ever pose like that, ain’t she?”

“She was a bit of a prude,” I admitted, “but it’s been over a year since I saw her. Things can sure change in a year. Look at you and me for example.”

“Yes sir,” he said, “me and you is shitting in tall cotton for sure. Especially me,” he said cutting his eyes at me. “I wear nice high dollar suits, drive a luxury car, live in an expensive condo, and drink imported wine and beer.  You still dress like a bum, you drove a fifteen year old piece of shit for a car, and live in a low rent apartment.”

“What’s your point?” I snapped. I knew what his point was. We had had the discussion before.

“Sammy, you just don’t know how to enjoy what you got. You forgot how to have fun, if you ever knew how.  Spend some of that damned money, boy. Have yourself some fun.”

“I have fun,” I said knowing it was a lie.

“Okay, you are a riot,” Ruben said. “Give me your credit card.”

“Why would I want to do that? You have a company card, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m going to buy you a new car and I damn sure don’t want that old bitch in accounting giving me the stink-eye.”

“You can buy a new car with a credit card?”

“One like you have you can. Might want to pay off the balance when it comes due. Interest on a car would be murder. How long you goina be in your meeting?”

“I don’t know, an hour…maybe an hour and a half. Why don’t you just wait for me and I’ll go get the car.”

“Bullshit, boss,” Ruben said. “You’d go looking for a used Le Car or something you could buy for a hundred bucks. Wait for me outside but if I don’t show up soon, call me. I best keep them disks for you. They might distract the other big shots you are meeting with.”

I should have told him I was the boss and we would do it my way but the simple truth was I just didn’t give a shit.


I’ll have to say, Ruben picked a nice vehicle for me. It was a black Lincoln Navigator with more bells and whistles than I could figure out.  I had never owned or driven a new car before and I have to say the smell is wonderful.  I didn’t ask what it cost. I didn’t much care. The “old bitch”, as Ruben called her, would pay the bill when it came in and then come to my office and demand an explanation. I should have fired her but the truth is she knew what she was doing and I didn’t.

Lois Hollingsworth was the old bitch’s name. Actually, Lois was not old but she was a bitch. I guessed her age at somewhere in her middle forties. She ruled the accounting department with an iron hand. Grown men cried when she raked them over the coals for careless spending or for not having receipts.

After Ruben took me to pick up the new car I drove to my apartment taking my time to get used to the fancy SUV. I would never admit it to Ruben, but it was one hell of a car and I loved it.

Once in my apartment I took a long appraising look around. There had been little or no changes since Suzi left. Her nick-knacks were still scattered about and the used furniture she and I selected was still in place.  It was a perfect starter home for a young attorney and his wife with a college degree and no job. I finally admitted to myself that I could live better.

I got myself a can of domestic beer and settled in to watch the disks I bought. It took almost ten seconds to ascertain the woman was indeed Suzi. Not the conservative Suzi I knew, loved, and married but it was Suzi. No doubt about it.

I watched alternating between high arousal and feeling sick to my stomach. My Suzi would give me head but she took no pleasure in it. Anal sex was absolutely out of the question. The porn star Suzi took large black cocks in her ass, pussy, and her mouth and appeared to get a lot of pleasure from it. I turned the player off, sat in the semi-darkness, and contemplated it.

What on earth had changed in the brief time we had been apart?  What possible set of circumstances could have developed to change Suzi into a wanton slut? A lot of questions rattled around in my brain but no answers were forthcoming.

I left the apartment and walked down the street to a pizza place. I got a couple of slices and ate them there, my mind still in a whirl. Later after walking around a bit I went home and watched the disks again.

The next morning Ruben came into my office.  He took a seat and waited for me to say something. I told him good morning.

“Yeah,” he said. “Was it her, Sammy?” I nodded. “I figured it probably was. Sure looked like her. You watch both of them?” I nodded again. “You want to talk about it?” I shook my head no and started talking.

“She did stuff I couldn’t believe, Ruben. Stuff I begged her to do but she wouldn’t. She acted like a slut that enjoyed what she was doing. I need to find her.”

“Why you need to do that?” he asked. “That thing about letting sleeping dogs lie comes to mind, Boss.”

“Can’t let this lie, Ruben. Can you locate her for me?”

“I guess I can if she’s still around town.”

“The company that made the disk is local,” I told him. “Sunny Mac Productions on East Sixth Street.”

“Okay, I’ll dig around and see what I can find out. How high is the priority?” I looked at him. “Oh, that high. I’m on it, boss.”