CHAPTER 13
PORSHA
And just like that, my virginity was a blurred memory.
“Damn, you sure as hell worked my young ass out.” I could barely speak as Street rolled off my body. My legs felt like spaghetti strings, and my heart was racing faster than dough boys running from the Feds. If I wasn’t in love, my tingling pussy sure was feeding my heart lies. You could call me young and dumb. Fuck it, I was. I’d be that and more for this grown-ass nigga.
All the porno watching in the world couldn’t have prepared me for the sex session Street and I just came out of. My young ass had not been ready. But he’d thugged, fucked, and taken me like a savage. I was now a grown-ass woman. And from the way my body was feeling, I wished I had given him my innocence sooner. His stroke game had me dizzy. I couldn’t wait to tell Imani about my first time.
“Yeah, and as long as you keep it tight for me, I’ma keep working it out. The wetter the better.” He laughed, wiping his manhood off with a towel from the hotel.
Chewing at my bottom lip, I giggled, blushed, and grinned. I liked it when Street talked nasty to me. Staring up at the ceiling, I swore I saw stars. There weren’t any rose petals, candle flames flickering, or soft love music playing in the background when his first stroke broke my virginity, but he’d surely fucked me into a fantasy. Wasn’t nothing about nothing on my mind but cuddling up closer to him.
Tossing his shirt to the side of the mattress, he lay back on the pillow, then pulled my head down to rest on his chest. “It’s sexy as hell that you’ve got your own hair, P,” he said, touching my scalp. “It means you won’t be in my pockets for no bundles.”
“Yeah, whatever. Thanks for the compliment. But bundles or not, I still like my shit done once a week.”
“Well, if you keep ridin’ with a nigga and holding me down like you did earlier, you ain’t gonna have time to get ya hair done. I’m gonna be busy fuckin’ it up. I love a down-ass bitch. That shit turns me on.”
“Oh, well, in that case, let’s ride to the east one more time before you drop me off.” I was playing but knew he’d get the point. “But for real, if you have my back, I’ll have yours too, Street.”
I smiled, seeing myself waking up and falling asleep doing this every day. In my mind, this was what real couples did. I couldn’t wait until I was grown so I could do this all day and night.
Half my body was draped across him with my moist vagina pressed against his side. Street’s breaths started deepening when I started rubbing on his manhood again. As soon as I touched it, it hardened up, and pre-cum started oozing from the tip of it. Just like he’d told me to stroke it earlier, nice and slow, but with a firm grip, I was gonna be a pro in no time. Now that I’d gotten a taste of dick, I didn’t think I was gonna ever get enough. I went down to taste it, but he pulled me up with something else in mind.
“Shiiiiiit, roll over and brace ya’self up on ya elbows. I’ma spread that fatty and climb up in that one mo’ time.”
“Hmmm, do it then, daddy.” I was quick to roll over and prop myself up. Biting my lip, I buried my face in the pillow while he started tickled my booty hole with his finger. Never when I watched the porno earlier did I think I’d be letting him play anally, but I was. Still, though, I squirmed, slightly uncomfortable with the feeling.
I let Street do his thing. I wasn’t about to give him a chance to complain or bounce from this hotel room sooner than we had to. The view of the Detroit River along the boardwalk and Canada was really nice. I really wanted to do it in the window. After a few more sips of Cîroc and maybe his Rémy, maybe I’d work up the nerve.
“Tell me you want some more of this monster, girl.” Replacing his finger with his stiffness, he ran the tip of it up and down the slit of my booty. Street was obviously an ass man, because he had not paid too much attention to my breasts.
“I wa . . . want some mor . . . more.” My lips vibrated as I spoke. I couldn’t speak in a straight sentence if I wanted to.
“You want it up in you now?” Rubbing his finger gently up and down my walls, he then tapped on my clit, which drove me insane. He was stimulating me in too many ways at the same time.
It felt like electricity was flowing through my veins. I threw my head back and moaned, feeling hot all over. “Yes, yes, yes,” I shouted my response, panting from a simple touch. “Oh my God, yes!” So far, what I’d learned was that sex felt good, and so did getting teased. I was ready to climb up the wall. If he weren’t gripping my hips like a wino does to a whiskey bottle, I probably would’ve.
“You wanna feel it raw? I know I do. I wanna see how warm and wet ya pussy can really get around this muthafucka.” Street wasn’t playing fair. The tip of his dick was already pushing its way inside of me without a condom on it.
I started wriggling so it wouldn’t go in, but not enough for him to think I didn’t want him sexing me at all. “Stop, no. I don’t wanna get pregnant,” I finally spoke out with some sense after catching my breath from panting.
“I’ma pull out,” he promised, a lie my dad said all niggas told.
Going forward with what he wanted to do, he pushed it halfway in. I gulped a big ol’ gulp. My pussy muscles contracted on their own, letting Street know that I liked it in spite of my mouth saying otherwise. With him pushing it in slowly, one centimeter at a time, and me easing away like a crippled snail, Street and I were having peek-a-boo sex.
Even though Trinity wouldn’t necessarily approve of me having sex, she didn’t keep me shaded from the details of how boys and men talked good games. I got schooled about hormones, sex, and even how boys got wet dreams about girls when they hit puberty. She wanted me to know how frisky they really were so I’d know how savage-like they’d be when it came to some real poo-poo kitty.
What she didn’t lecture me on was that my whole body would sync up with a nigga once I felt him raw. I didn’t know how good my juices felt on Elvin, but feeling his dick with a condom on it fa damn sho’ had me about to pass out. It did feel different. In a very good way. It was hard to pull away, but when he slammed into me, howling because I twerked and it squirted, I reached back, pushing him out.
“Naw, you can get preggers off of pre-cum, nigga. You can hit this again, but you gotta put a condom on,” I demanded.
For the first time tonight, I’d spoken up for myself. The thought of Trinity’s reaction if things went far wrong and I did get knocked up pushed me to make sure the accident didn’t happen. Even if I was 18 by the time I delivered the news, she’d calculate from my due date back to the gestation date and deliver her own grandchild on site. She’d make me miscarry, then pour me a drink to drown my sorrows in.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
When I heard my phone vibrating, the grip he had on me didn’t mean shit. I jumped damn near to the ceiling. I knew it was one of three people, because the only other person who called my phone had his hand on my behind.
“A’ight, I’ll throw a rubber on. Get back over here.” He tried pushing me back down and raising my cheeks back up.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
“Get off of me, Street! Back up! It’s either my dad or mom calling.” I was panicked.
He grunted, then fell back on the bed. I paid him no mind. I leaned over, scared to look at my phone for good reason because it was my mom. I was praying I didn’t pick up the phone to her saying she was home. In a rush to get booed up with Street, I had not even thought about Trin and Cal getting home early and finding Imani and Benzie there without me.
Bzzzz!
With a shaking hand, I finally slid the bar over, answering the call. “Hey, Ma,” I muttered, half groggy for the play off.
“Wake yo’ ass up to open the door when me and your father get home. Some fools were shooting outside of the cabaret. We’re on our way dropping Fame off now.” Her words sent me in a frenzy.
“Okay, Ma, okay.” Panicking, I leaped out of the bed and started putting my clothes on. I was so nervous and rushed to get out of the hotel
room that I’d slipped on my shorts inside out. “Street, come on and get up! I’ve gotta get home like five minutes ago,” I yelled at him.
He grunted, then climbed out of bed, still jacking his dick. “This is what the fuck I get for fucking with a kid. You either gonna take this nut while I’m speed racing you home, or I’ma hit Jamika up.”
“Nigga, don’t play with me,” I yelled even louder. “Cumming is the last thing you need to worry about. If you don’t get me back to the crib, Calvin is gonna kill me after making me watch him kill you. And if you call Jamika, I’ma make good and damn well I tell my daddy you popped my cherry.” I didn’t care how much of an immature little girl I sounded like. I was serious about throwing both of us underneath the bus if he called my nemesis after dropping me off.
I saw how he was looking at me, like I was disloyal by nature, so I paused and corrected him. “Well, I don’t know what the hell you expect me to do. If it’s fuck me, it’s only right for it to be fuck you, Street.” I put things into perspective.
In response to my reasoning, Street cut me a menacing expression I’d never seen him give anyone other than cats in the street. I felt like I’d said the wrong thing, or he’d taken it the wrong way, but I wasn’t taking a word of it back because I could and would drop a dime on him if he called Jamika. I said what I meant, so he ought to respect it.
He finally broke the cold stare with words. I was sure they weren’t the ones he really wanted to say. “Bring ya ass, little girl,” he growled, sneak dissing me like Pete Rock. Swooping his keys off the nightstand, he put the blunt I’d snuck from my mom’s room behind his ear. It had not even been lit.
Walking out with his jeans on, no drawers, and putting his white undershirt over his head, the thought crossed my mind about him calling Jamika for real, and my mood got sour. He wasn’t shit for throwing the comment into the air after I’d just given him my virginity. It haunted me our whole silent ride to the place he’d picked me up at. Although I’d been texting back and forth with Imani that I was on my way, as well as asking her if anything happened that I needed to know about, my mind was too caught up in Street playing me like a random bitch to truly think straight.
After breaking every law put in place about speeding, yielding, and abiding by traffic lights, Street pulled up to the same spot he’d picked me up from, then looked over at me like I repulsed him. “What the fuck are you waiting on? I got you back on time, right? Now you ain’t gotta go snitching to ya daddy.” This time, his words were probably dead on as to what he was thinking.
I smacked my lips. “Stop tripping, Street. You are the one who said you’d call that thirsty, broke ho. That was wrong, especially since we just had sex for the first time,” I explained, hoping he’d stop being a baby about the situation. I saw my mom was right: a nigga’s age didn’t make him grown.
“Yeah, whatever, li’l P. Like I said, hop on out and get on home. We oughta be good, so I don’t expect to hear shit different from Cal.” Street was firm on making me eat my words.
So I did. I didn’t have a choice. Racing against time, I had to beat my parents home. Me and Street would have to pick this conversation up later. When I hopped out of the car, I tried saying one last thing. “I’ll call you in a few so we can talk. Don’t blow up what I said, Street. Not tonight. Not after what just went down between us.”
“You should’ve thought about all that before you got to runnin’ ya mouth. Please shut my door. I ain’t cuttin’ up on you, ’cause I don’t wanna give you a reason to tell on me and shit.” He had jokes at my expense, several of them. From the screwed-up expression on his face, though, he wasn’t playing.
“Street! Don’t flip this on me. You mad, fine. But you’re the one who brought Jamika up in the first place, not me! You know how I feel about her.” I was wasting my time, because he wasn’t trying to hear a word I had to say.
“Cool. Close my door, Porsha.” He was impatient yet calm, which was irking the shit out of me.
“You better answer and not be making plans with that bitch, Street. I mean it,” I barked, then slammed the door, determined to have the last word. Unfortunately, my grandstanding meant nothing.
Elvin did the unthinkable and pulled off.
CHAPTER 14
ELVIN “STREET” THOMAS
No sooner than Porsha climbed out of my passenger seat pissed, Calvin called about the shootout and the moves he wanted to make behind it. He wanted me to inform our crew, make sure I kept my eyes open, and keep my ears to the streets for any buzz about some dudes whipping a red Trailblazer. I was kinda mad that I wasn’t still grinding up in his daughter while he called himself runnin’ orders to me and being a boss. It was a waste of time listening to his old ass tell me shit I already knew to do.
“Cal, yo, chill.” I was cool with it. “Like I told you earlier, I’ve got shit sewn up and under control. That’s what you’ve got me over here for.”
“A’ight then, Street. I hear you. And sometime in the very near future, we’ll revisit our earlier conversation. I recognize ya hustle.” He was trying to pacify me.
“It ain’t no thang, Cal. Holla at me when you’re ready. I’ll be trappin’ and tappin’ this trigger finger ’til then.” I let him think his li’l manipulation was working. Whether he picked up on it or not, my whole tone and demeanor wasn’t as passive as it usually was to him.
“My boy.” Calvin sounded proud. “You got it.”
“No doubt, C. No doubt at all.” Grabbing my cock, I smugly grinned, wondering if he’d sound just as proud knowing his daughter’s virgin pussy juice was still drying on its tip.
“Then I’ma pull it in with the fam and holla at you in the morning. Do ya thang.” Calvin was mistakenly at ease, a quality he taught me never to feel about another nigga in the game.
“Yup, yup. Holla.”
Trust is a weak quality that a man in the game should never portray. Cal and I didn’t share the same blood. That was why he never referred to me as his family, but some low-level shit like boy and son. I ain’t had nobody but me. I’d looked up to his let-a-nigga-down ass long enough.
The moment I’d stepped foot out of Calvin’s house earlier was the moment I stopped needing his confirmation or green lights. I’d gotten tired of being forced to stay stagnant. He wasn’t about to control my money, the way I lived, or the way I started my own monopoly in these streets. Too bad for him that he trained me to be a boss instead of a lackey. Even if Nuggs and Lenny didn’t come through on that sack or started hustlin’ up underneath my reign, I’d still do my own thang. I wasn’t worried about coming out on the other side or on top.
As I made a sharp turn on to the block, my cell started jumping again. It was Porsha calling, and when I sent her to voicemail, she texted. Shorty was desperate to get a response from me. The messages went from her apologizing about threatening to bump her gums to her father about us, which I knew she’d never do, to messages about how I ain’t shit but a dog because she was salty over me threatening to call Jamika after taking her virginity. Porsha wasn’t texting me nothing different from any other broad I’d gotten with who’d slipped up and caught feelings.
Up top, being honest, I knew li’l chicks got emotional about dudes popping their cherry. Even still, I didn’t give a fuck and never had. Girls didn’t speak out of turn to me just like men didn’t, and Porsha’s spoiled ass was not on the throne in my life. She could run circles around her aging pops, but I wasn’t warranting Porsha to spit reckless to me on no given day. She could play like she was Trinity with her peers and Imani. Just like I’d whipped off on her ass a few minutes ago, I ignored every call and message Porsha was blowing me up with. I’d take her off punishment when absolutely necessary. Maybe like when I needed someone to break down Cal’s baggies or when I felt like climbin’ up in something tight. As I grabbed at my cock again, my grin got wider. I was feeling mighty arrogant.
Real talk, ego speaking for me or not, I had her exactly where I needed her to be. Esp
ecially since I was her first. If anything, my plan was to have her scheming and scamming for me more. She’d already shown me she was down to ride. Since Calvin didn’t want to break me off with a chance to expand, his daughter would. Porsha might be a sweet parting gift if she bowed.
I didn’t have much of nothing as a kid. The soles of the worn shoes my mom got me from the Salvation Army were superglued down, and the raggedy stitch job she had my arthritic grandma patch up my holey clothes with always came apart. It was the constant teasing and suspensions I received from beating up on my wannabe bullies that turned me into a ferocious nigga. I might’ve been poor, but my pride was always rich.
Once I earned the title of being the troublemaking boy who’d knock a sucker out, I didn’t waste any time building my reputation up as being the kid who’d steal the clothes off your back as well as the shoes off your feet. My momma got tired of cursing other parents out for coming to her house about me. However, when one of the other drunk moms went over her head with a beer bottle because I’d snatched some high-priced frames off her son’s face, I spent my last night under her roof. After I slept on the porch, fanning off insects and with one eye open for ruffians or rodents, I found my permanent place in the streets, becoming an around-the-clock menace to society.
Being a delinquent but getting what I wanted from those a little more fortunate was a better way of life anyway. I broke into houses, robbed old women as they left church Sunday morning, and stole mail from people’s mailboxes every first of the month. The backdoor thieves at the scrap yard, who knew I was snatching copper pipes and furnaces up outta damn near every vacant house in the hood, put me on to stealing valuable home furnishings from occupied homes while folks were at work, on family vacations, or even on simple store runs. A slumming nigga like me didn’t have a phone, but I had a pair of wire cutters and a back built muscular and strong like an ox. In seventy seconds flat, I’d clip a fence to scrap and be hauling ass with on my back to the yard. I survived, in spite of how I did so. The streets fed me. That was how I got the nickname.
Shorty Gotta Be Grown Page 10