by J-Blunt
“Oh, shit!” Shanice moaned, grabbing the back of his head as he sucked her clit. When her orgasm began building, she bucked her hips and smashed his face against her pussy, and then she came. It was loud. “Oh, shit! Oh, shit, C-Note! Oh, shit!”
When her body stopped shivering, C-Note smiled, wiping the cum off his mouth. “Damn, girl. You taste like candy.”
Shanice sat up and began sucking and kissing her juices off his lips. “You right. I do taste like candy. Now put that rubber on and let’s make the neighbors know yo’ name.”
After putting on the protection, C-Note slid between her legs and into her promised land. Every time he pushed inside of her, Shanice threw it back at him, matching his strokes. His first nut came quickly. After changing rubbers, he flipped Shanice over and hit it from the back. Her ass bounced and jiggled like crazy as he fucked her. Shanice continued matching his stroke. Every time he thrust forward, she threw her ass back at him. He slapped her yellow ass cheeks, leaving red handprints across her booty. Shanice loved it, growling and moaning.
C-Note could feel his second nut coming on. He prolonged it for as long as he could. His body got stiff as he filled the rubber. In the back of his mind, he knew he had to have Shanice. He didn’t care what Nitty or Pop Somethin’ had to say.
Chapter 5
“Pop Somethin’! What it do, nigga? Welcome home!” Smoke grinned, opening his arms for an aggressive bear hug.
“Smoke! What up, nigga? Look at chu, boy. You fat as fuck!” Pop Somethin’ grinned.
“We don’t work out and lift weights in the real world. Plus, I ain’t neva met a nigga big enough to stand in the way of some hot shit.”
“Chuch!” Pop agreed.
“Look at chu, nigga. Damn! What, you on some Incredible Hulk shit? You know that extra-large t-shirt is way too small,” Smoke cracked.
Pop Somethin’ had stuffed his six-foot-six, 240-pound frame into a 2X black Robin t-shirt, Robin jeans, and black retro Jordans. “This a 2X, nigga. And where my food at?” Pop asked, looking through the windows of the 2010 Magnum.
“That’s what you worried about, nigga? You ain’t had no pussy in eight years, and you worried about some food? Yo’ priorities sound fucked up.”
Pop ignored the dig and opened the car door. There was a bag on the backseat. “I know it betta be some food in this bag or we fightin’.”
“Didn’t I just tell yo’ muscle-bound ass I don’t fight?”
Pop didn’t answer. There was food in the bag, and he climbed in the backseat to bust it down. BBQ ribs, macaroni and cheese, fluffy buttermilk biscuits, coleslaw, and apple pie.
Smoke laughed when he seen how Pop reacted to the food. “You know when it’s two people in a car, you s’posed to take the passenger seat.”
“Quit it wit’ the jokes, nigga. You got what I holla’ed at you ‘bout?” Pop asked in between bites of the food.
Smoke reached into the glove box and handed Pop a brown paper bag. “I see you still serious as fuck and don’t know how to laugh.”
“Niggas get killed for playin’ too much.”
“Yeah, you still the same nigga. Just bigger. So, what you wanna do? Hit the hood? The mall? Find some hos? See the fam?”
“Nah. Lemme see yo’ phone. I need to get up wit’ Deso. I told that nigga I was gon’ holla at him my first day out.”
“Deso stay in the hood. Hoodrat-ass nigga. All he do is bleed the block.”
After making a phone call, Pop Somethin’ directed Smoke to an abandoned parking lot. A silver Infinity truck was already parked there. Pop checked the contents of the paper bag as Smoke parked next to the truck. A pistol, lighter, and small bottle of gasoline were inside.
“Ain’t nobody in that truck. Deso lost his shit,” Smoke said, looking around the lot for signs life.
“Put the car in park and put cho hands on the steering wheel,” Pop ordered,
Smoke looked in the rearview mirror and seen the Glock 40 pointed at his head. “Pop, what the fuck you doin’, nigga? Put that muthafuckin’ gun down!”
“I ain’t gon’ tell you no more. Park the car and put cho hands on the steering wheel.”
Smoke did as he was told. “This fucked up, bruh. I been knowin’ you since we was in grade school. This how you do me? Fuck is this shit about?”
“You got some money, nigga?”
“You know I do. I s’posed to take you shoppin’. That’s what this about? Some money?”
“Nah, nigga. It’s about loyalty.”
Smoke looked confused. “Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, nigga?”
“Clutch and Scrap.”
Surprise showed on Smoke’s face. “I don’t got shit to do wit’ them niggas.”
“Them niggas tried to off me. I heard you told them niggas where my people stay so they could get the jump on me and get me out the way. Niggas popped me up, and I went to the pen for baggin’ Clutch. It’s yo’ fault.”
“That’s some bullshit, Pop! You know you my nigga. I wouldn’t do that. Who told you some shit like that?”
“Deso. And a couple niggas I was locked down wit’. Deso wanted to off yo’ ass a long time ago, but I told him not to touch you. Only reason I ain’t pushed yo’ shit back yet is ‘cause I wanna know why you set me up. If you lie, I’m killin’ yo’ whole family. I love yo’ moms like she birthed me, but if you lie, I’ma put a bullet in her face.”
Smoke hung his head. His life was over. He didn’t bother pleading for forgiveness. It was no use. He had crossed the devil and failed. The only thing he could do was save his family. “Clutch and Scrap said you hit ‘em for some birdies and fifty sacks. They gave me a brick to tell ‘em where yo’ aunty stay. At the time I was fucked up and needed the money.”
Pop stared in Smoke’s eyes through the rearview mirror. He seen the truth and fear. Everybody was scared to die. “You know the love of money is the root of all evil? I almost got knocked off, and them crackers took eight years of my life for baggin’ Clutch. All because you wanted some money.”
Smoke mugged Pop Somethin’. “Fuck a sermon, nigga. Do what you gotta do.”
Pop!
Blood, brain, and skull fragments splattered the windshield. Smoke slumped in the seat, dead. Pop Somethin’ closed his eyes and took a big sniff. The smell of fresh blood and gun powder filled his nostrils. He smiled. The beast was out of the cage.
He searched Smoke and found five Gs in his pocket. After taking the money, he poured gasoline all over the car’s interior, then took a few steps back and tossed a lit match toward the car. Pop retreated a safe distance away, then stood and watched the car until it was fully engulfed in flames. When he was satisfied all evidence of him being in the car was gone, he hopped in the Infinity.
***
Pop checked the piece of paper one more time. The address matched what was written in the letter. The house looked like a mini-mansion: manicured grass, trimmed bushes, nice paint job. This wasn’t what he was used to, and he felt uncomfortable in the upper-class neighborhood.
After tucking the .40 Glock in his waist, he got out of the truck and walked up to the house. The doorbell sounded like a song playing on a church piano.
A couple of seconds later, somebody spoke behind the door. “Who dat?”
“Pop Somethin’.”
When the door opened, a tall, skinny nigga appeared. He had dark skin, a nappy fro, and a chip on his front tooth. “Look at dis nigga! Damn, Pop! You got big as fuck!”
“Deso! What’s good, boy?” The men hugged like they were long-lost brothers, Pop Somethin’ swallowing the smaller man up in his arms as they embraced.
“You got them dreads and beard like them Muslim niggas. Don’t tell me you went in and got all religious an’ shit.”
“Stop playin’, nigga. You know I’m ‘bout that Rasta life!”
“Fo’ sho, my nigga. C’mon in. Come meet the squad.”
“Look like you doin’ good, nigga. How the fuck you get this house?”
&nbs
p; “My bitch got this from her granny when she died.” Then Deso stopped and got serious. “Where that fag-ass nigga Smoke?”
“You know I don’t play. That nigga in the parkin’ lot.”
Deso nodded and smiled before leading Pop Somethin’ through the foyer. The inside of the house was a lot different from the outside. Liquor bottles, clothes, and old food containers were strewn over the living room. Lounged around on couches were three grimy-looking niggas who looked ready to take anything with value.
Deso introduced everybody. “This Pop Squad. Drama. Yae. Snot. Y’all, this my nigga, Pop Somethin’.”
Pop nodded at everybody.
“We know who you is,” a light-skinned nigga with nappy dreads spoke up. “I’m Yae. You a legend in H-Town. I love meetin’ real niggas. Too many pussy-niggas out here in da way.”
“Dat’s why we fuck dem pussy boys!” Drama laughed, showing a row of gold teeth.
Snot pulled a bag of lime-green weed from his pocket. “You smoke?”
Pop reached for the bag. “Hell yeah!”
“You can have dat. Shit was free. Fucked a pussy-nigga over for a couple pounds of dat shit.” Snot laughed, tossing Pop Somethin’ blunt wrap.
“You got some pussy yet, nigga?” Deso asked.
“Nah. I only been out for ‘bout an hour.”
“We got some stripper bitches in the back. Dey wit’ da team, and dey know how to treat a real nigga,” Drama said.
Pop gave Deso a look. “What he talkin’ ‘bout?”
“They my bitch-bitches. They valid.”
“And they fuckin’? Just like that?”
“They wit’ the team, my nigga. Follow me.”
The house had four bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. It also had a pool out back and a den in the basement. Pop Somethin’ puffed the blunt as he followed Deso into a bedroom at the back of the house. Two females slept in a bed. “Dis Princess and Queenie. They twins,” Deso explained before slapping one of them on the ass. Pop could see her flesh jiggle under the sheet.
“Aye! What the fuck!” she snapped. Angry eyes opened, mean-mugging Pop and Deso. “Damn, nigga! What the fuck you doin’?”
Even though she had sleep in her eyes from just waking up, Queenie was bad. Reddish-blonde dreads hung to the middle of her back, dark chocolate skin, chinky eyes, high cheek bones, full lips, nice teeth.
“My nigga just got out,” Deso said, looking at Pop. “Give him some pussy.”
She mugged Deso again, and then Pop Somethin’. “Is you niggas crazy? Don’t be wakin’ me up for no fuck-shit. Leave me alone!”
Pop Somethin’ took a couple steps toward the door. “I’m good, Deso. I ain’t forcin’ nobody to give up the pussy.”
“Nah, Pop. It ain’t like that. Hold on. She trippin’. Fuck yo’ problem, Queenie? This my nigga, Pop Somethin’. He wit’ the team. You know how we do.”
When she heard his name, an apologetic look showed on her face. “You Pop Somethin’? For real?”
He noticed the change in her demeanor. “Yeah. I know you?”
“Nah, but I know who you is. Shit, e’erybody in Houston know who you is. Sorry for the attitude, but I was gettin’ my beauty sleep. Damn, you big and sexy as fuck. When you get out?”
“Just now.”
“I’m outta here, Pop. Do you,” Deso said, leaving the room. Pop moved to close the door.
“You don’t gotta close that. I mean, you can if you want, but it don’t matter. We do what we wanna do ‘round here, whenever we want to do it. We ain’t shy about shit,” Queenie said. And to prove her point, she climbed from under the sheet and stood up to let him see what she was workin’ with. She wasn’t wearing any clothes, so Pop checked her out. She was short and thick, big titties with large, black areolas, flat stomach, small waist, wide hips. She had tattoos from her neck to her ankles and an ass that made Pop’s dick jump.
“This might take some getting used to,” Pop chuckled, staring at her ass.
“Don’t worry about it, baby. We got time. Get in the bed. Take yo’ clothes off.”
Pop Somethin’ stripped like he was in a race to see who could get naked the fastest. Queenie walked to the dresser to grab a pack of condoms.
“Damn, nigga! Look at all those muscles. You sexy as fuck.”
“I work out a li’l bit,” Pop laughed. “What about her? She ain’t gon’ trip if she get woke up?”
“Nah. She prolly won’t wake up. She fuck wit’ dem pills, and they be havin’ her ass out. But fuck her. She good. I want some dick. If she wake up and see yo’ sexy ass, she gon’ want some, too.”
Pop Somethin’ lay back, puffing the blunt while Queenie attacked his dick. She slurped on him like it was a popsicle, deep throating as much as she could. What she couldn’t fit in her mouth, she jerked with her hand. She gagged and slobbered as she went to work. Pop grunted and moaned as she slayed his dragon. His nut built up quick. It had been eight years. He tried to hold off, but couldn’t.
“Ooh, shit!” he grunted, feeling lightheaded.
Queenie looked him in his eyes as she pumped the nut out of him, sucking him dry. When she was done, she kissed the head of his dick and smiled. “And you still hard. How you want it, Daddy?”
Pop took another puff on the blunt. She was so sexy, and her ass was so fat. “Face down, ass up.”
After putting on the rubber, Queenie assumed the position. He got behind her and slipped in slowly. She was hot and wet. It felt like he was about to bust again, so he paused.
“Nuh-uh, nigga. Fuck me hard!” Queenie said, slapping her ass.
While he was locked up, Pop Somethin’ read that if you thought about bullshit while you fucked, you could last longer, so he thought about all kind of sports as he dug her guts out.
“Oh, hell yeah, nigga. I’ma fall in love wit’ cho dick!”
Pop continued puffing the blunt as he fucked her. She didn’t even notice when the ashes fell on her ass, just kept throwing it back at him and moaning his name. He held off the second nut for as long as he could. After he busted, Queenie changed his rubber and climbed on top.
“Suck my titties,” she told him as she rode the pipe.
Pop slapped ass and sucked her nipples as she went to work. Queenie was a real freak. She talked shit and cursed while she put the pussy on Pop. She started playing with her clit, too, then she came. She continued riding through her orgasm and didn’t stop ‘til Pop busted his third nut. When done, Queenie lay next to him, rubbing his body.
“Damn, I can’t believe we just fucked. You know you a fuckin’ legend, Pop?”
“People keep tellin’ me that.”
“I was twelve when you got locked up, but I remember how you had niggas shook. A nigga wit’ that kinda power is an aphrodisiac. Get the pussy wet.”
Pop laughed. “You wild, shawty. You sure yo’ sister a’ight? We fucked good, and she didn’t move.”
“That’s that pillhead sleep. She good. Bet if you start fuckin’ her she wake up.”
“Nah. I just ain’t neva seen no shit like that.”
“Don’t trip. She good. But what up wit’ chu? You gotta bitch?
Pop smirked. “What kinda question is that?”
“A real question. You just got out. Was a bitch holdin’ you down, or do you need a bitch?”
“We fucked one time, and now you wanna be my woman?”
“I didn’t say yo’ woman or girl. I said yo’ bitch. I know how niggas is out here. I ain’t stupid. But if you need somebody to ride wit’ chu or ride for you, I’m yo’ bitch.”
The look in her eyes told Pop she would worship him. Whatever business he needed handled, she would do his bidding. But he had a problem trusting strangers. “How you wanna ride wit’ me and you don’t even know me? What about dem niggas in the living room? They say you part of they team. Pop Squad.”
“Is you with the team?”
“Nah. Deso my nigga, but I don’t know them other niggas. Or nobody that’s down
wit’ ‘em.”
“We call ourselves Pop Squad. Four niggas and four bitches. Deso named the team after you. He told us how real you was, and you was his mentor before you got locked up. Kept him fed and showed him how to hit niggas. He showed us the game, and now we all eat and sleep together.”
Pop knew Deso started Pop Squad, but he didn’t know the depths of the clique. He also didn’t want to be a part of it. He trusted Deso, but he didn’t know or trust anybody else, and he couldn’t eat with niggas he didn’t trust. “I ain’t trynna come between what y’all got goin’ on. It seem like a happy family. I just did eight years because I got set up by a nigga I thought was all the way down wit’ me. I don’t hand out my trust. That shit earned. I don’t know yo’ niggas, so I can’t eat wit’ em.”
“And that’s why I wanna fuck wit’ chu. We burnin’ up H-Town. If I stay wit’ Pop Squad, I’ma die or go to jail. I ain’t scared of either. Shit, when it’s my time, I won’t cry. But I wanna see more and do more. You not fuckin’ wit’ us tell me you got cho own plans. You smarter than Deso an’ ‘em. He wanna be like you. He yo’ shadow. You the real thing. Why would I stay fuckin’ the shift manager when I can fuck wit’ the boss?”
Chapter 6
“Deso, I need some heat,” Pop Somethin’ said, sliding into his t-shirt as he walked into the living room.
“What you want? Choppers? Pistols?”
“Shit, lemme get a chopper.”
Drama pulled a black AR-15 from under the couch. “This bitch got two fifty-round clips. You need more than that?”
Pop Somethin’ took the gun, staring at it like he had fallen in love. “Nah. This bitch is perfect.”
“So, what the move? You need the team?” Deso asked.
“Nah. Me and Queenie got this. Is it cool if she fuck wit’ me? She don’t got no obligations, do she?”
“Shit, y’all both Pop Squad. Whatever you need her to do, she gon’ do it.”
“Look, Deso, you my nigga. I fuck wit’ chu the long way, but I ain’t wit’ this Pop Squad shit. I got my own plans. Once I finish doin’ what I gotta do, I’m movin’ outta town.”