Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

by Cairo

  I step outta the closet wit’ my gadgets in hand, makin’ my way into the bathroom. I squeeze my ass, alternately slappin’ my ass cheeks, makin’ ’em pop ’n bounce wit’ each smack. I am so fuckin’ horny. I bend at the knees, squat down low, then lean ova the sink. I slap my ass harder; got the shit stingin’, causin’ my pussy to snap open and shut. It needs to be feed and stretched and worked over by sumthin’ long, black and thick.

  I slide my right hand between my thighs ’n massage the front of my pussy, lightly brushin’ my clit. “Bitch got dropped…skull got popped…ooooh, yes, slumped that ho…”

  I work myself into a frenzy, turnin’ on the vibratin’ butt plug, then slidin’ it into my ass. I keep playin’ wit’ my clit. The vibrations in my asshole gotta bitch’s pussy creamin’. I shift gears. My murderous thoughts go to the nigga, Jawan.

  “Yeah, muhfucka…you like beatin’ on women?” I ask, starin’ at myself in the mirror, pretendin’ I’m talkin’ to Juanita’s nigga. “You wanna stomp baby’s outta bitches? Well, I’ma stomp ya nut out, muhfucka. Open wide, bitch-ass muhfucka. I’ma ’bout to shut ya lights.”

  The thought of havin’ that nigga butt naked, then pullin’ off my disguise ’n lettin’ the nigga look me in the eyes makes me moan. I wanna see shock ’n fear in the nigga’s face when I cock back my piece. “Mmmmmm…aaaaaaah…”

  I slip my dildo into my gushy hole. Pop, pop, pop! “Uhhhhh, welcome to da Kat Trap, muhfucka,” I grunt, pumpin’ ’n windin’ my hips. I grind down on my dildo, squeeze my ass cheeks together, then lift my left leg up onto the counter and fuck myself into a delicious trance, yellin’ ’n screamin’ ’n moanin’ out shit I can’t even remember ’til my cream squirts outta me, and coats my dildo. I pull it out, then greedily suck on it while still workin’ the butt plug in my ass. I push the dildo back into my pussy, then nut all ova again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Don’t wanna hate ’im…ain’t tryna date ’im…nigga still pressin’…spendin’ time…chillin’…winin’ ’n dinin’…definitely diggin’ da nigga’s swagga…still…a bitch don’t know if she wanna let ’im bag ’er…

  I’m standin’ in the middle of the bedroom naked in a pair of red Jimmy Choo stilettos. My body is oiled. Candles are lit ’round the room. And a bitch is feelin’ real sexy. I wait for Tamia’s “Can’t Get Enough of You” to start playin’, then go into a slow-sexy hip wind. I run my hands through my hair, then twirl my hips. I wind it down low, then bring it back up, bend ova and grab my ankles. Shake ’n pop my ass; one cheek at’a time. Pull open my ass. Let the muhfucka see what he’s ’bout to get.

  Alex is sittin’ at the foot of the bed, butt-naked, rubbin’ his balls and strokin’ his hard-ass dick. I got the nigga droolin’. I been teasin’ ’im—and teasin’ myself, for the last thirty minutes. My pussy juices are already runnin’ down the inside’a my thighs. I’m ready to fuck this nigga. But I’ma make ’im wait for it. I want the nigga to beg for it.

  I haven’t seen ’im in three days, but he sent me flowers two days in a row—pink roses the first day, and birds-of-paradise the second. I ain’t gonna front. A bitch was surprised and grill-cheesin’ it extra hard. No nigga has eva sent me flowers. So when he called to get at me I told ’im to come through. Told ’im I wanted my pussy eaten ’n beatin’. Told ’im tonight, I was gonna give ’im sumthin’ he might neva get again. Thirty minutes later, he was at my door.

  So here we are.

  I gyrate and shake my hips. Lift my titties up to my mouth and start lickin’ each nipple slow ’n seductive. “You wanna suck on these titties, muhfucka?”

  “Word up,” he says, tryna reach for me.

  “Look. Don’t touch,” I playfully warn, pushin’ his hands down. I let my titties go. Then slowly run my hands all ova my body. I drop down in front’a ’im, start playin’ wit’ my clit, pat the front’a my pussy, then stick a finga in. I keep my eyes locked on Alex. I stick anotha finga in. Finga-fuck myself as he strokes his dick. “You wanna put ya dick up in this? You wanna feel this pussy heat, muhfucka?”

  “Hell yeah, baby. You see how fuckin’ hard this dick is? Stop fuckin’ ’round, yo, and let me taste that pussy.” He stands up. I tell ’im to sit his ass back down. Tell ’im if he gets up again, I’ma shut shit down. I let ’im know I’m in control tonight. He sits his ass back on the bed. “Yeah, aiight, you got that off. But be ready to take it when I get ya ass pinned down in these sheets.”

  I pull my finga outta my hole, standin’ up. I slip my fingas in my mouth. I moan. “Mmmm, this pussy’s soooo good.” I greedily suck ’em dry.

  “Damn, yo…I’ma fuck da shit outta you. I’ma beat them muthafuckin’ walls up, ya heard?” He’s grabbin’ and shakin’ his dick side to side, then strokin’ it. “Fuck. I’ma wear ya lil’ ass out, girl.”

  I ignore the nigga. Stick two fingas back into my pussy, finga fuck myself some more, then scoop out some’a this pussy cream, walkin’ on ’im. “Open ya mouth, muhfucka.” He does. I stick my fingas in. His horny ass slurps my fingas up. “Keep poppin’ shit, muhfucka, and you ain’t gonna get none’a this kitty-kitty, bang-bang. You wanna bang up this wet kitty?”

  “Yo, you fuckin’ wit’ me, girl. You ’bout to make this dick spit.”

  “Yeah, muhfucka…bust that dick.” I push my titties up. “You wanna shoot that nut all ova these pretty titties?”

  He rapidly strokes his dick. “Aaaah…ohhh yeah, baby. Fuck…”

  I tell ’im to stop jackin’ his shit. Tell ’im not to nut yet. Tell ’im I wanna coat it wit’ my spit. Tell ’im I wanna milk the nut out wit’ my mouth. I walk up on ’im. Tell the nigga to stand up, then I drop down low. I take his dick in my mouth; start suckin’ it off all slow ’n sweet, then start gulpin’ the shit. I got the nigga dippin’ at the knees. Got ’em moanin’.

  “You like that shit, muhfucka?”

  “Ohhhhh fuck yeah.”

  Then a bitch starts gettin’ real nasty wit’ it, spittin’ and slobberin’ all over his cock, makin’ a lotta smackin’ and poppin’ sounds wit’ my lips and mouth, then lickin’ up the spit from ’round his balls.

  “Gotdaaaaamn, you nasty, baby. You suckin’ da fuck outta this dick. Fuck, yo.” His leg starts shakin’. I reach up and start squeezin’ his smooth muscular ass wit’ my hands, swallowin’ his dick balls deep, like only a true dick suckin’ bitch can. This muhfucka’s big-ass dick got my eyes waterin’, but I keep on rockin’ his top. My clit throbs for his tongue on it.

  “Damn, nice, big, pretty lips…”—I continue slurping and sucking and gulping him—“…slap them lips with it, baby…” I give the muhfucka the throat work just how he wants it. Let the nigga beat up the tonsils. “…aaaaah fuck…bounce that shit on ya wet tongue…yeah, ohhh, shiiiit…suck that shit, baby…take it all the way down in ya throat…suck on that muthafucka…”

  I increase the suction, rapidly bobbin’ my head. All this cock washin’ has my pussy achin’ and wet and horny for a dose of dick rammed deep in it. His knees start to buckle as he lets out a loud moan and grunt.

  I pull up off’a his dick and start jackin’ it, lappin’ at his balls. Yeah, muhfucka…I’ma fuck the shit outta this big-ass dick, nigga. You gotta bitch’s pussy blazin’…you wanna sink ya dick in da fire, nigga?”

  “Yeah, baby…ohhh, fuck…” I slip his dick back into my mouth and let ’im knock my throat back. I breathe in, extend my tongue, then let the nigga stretch my neck out. A few minutes later, the nigga starts shakin’ as his nut gushes outta his dick. I smile, knowin’ a bitch’s throat skills are mad crazy and can put any porn-star bitch to shame. Say what you want. Bottom line, I’m that bitch!

  TWO DAYS LATER, WE’RE IN THE CITY WALKIN’ THROUGH TIMES Square. As usual, it’s mad packed out here. The energy and all the niggas in the streets makes my pussy hot. I feel like tossin’ my hair in the breeze and poppin’ these ass cheeks real extra while I strut. But I don’t. Alex is all up on’a bitch like he owns ’er. He
grabs my hand, slippin’ his fingas through mine. I ain’t gonna front. I’m diggin’ the attention.

  We just finished seein’ the musical Fela! on Broadway. And the shit was fiiiyah. Crazy thing, this was my first time eva goin’ to a show. Concerts, yeah; but a musical…who woulda thought a bitch would enjoy some shit like that. But I did.

  “Yo, ma…lookin’ good,” some young nigga hustlin’ a CD says as we walk by. I grin at ’im. A few minutes later, anotha muhfucka says the same thing. I grin again.

  “Damn, my man, you gotta real beauty right there. She’s definitely a keeper,” a dark-skinned muhfucka says to Alex. He smiles and nods at the nigga like he’s all proud ’n shit to have me on his arm. I act like I don’t peep the shit. But the nigga’s walkin’ wit’ his chest all puffed out like he’s the muthafuckin’ man.

  As we walk down the blocks toward 44th and Broadway, most of the niggas cut they eyes at me, or make it obvious they tryna get my attention, but I don’t pay the shit no mind. Of course Alex peeps the shit tryna act like he feelin’ some kinda way ’bout all the attention muhfuckas givin’ a bitch. Shit, ain’t my fault I’m so damn fine. Hell, I ain’t payin’ the hoes who are snappin’ they necks peepin’ his ass no mind. I already know the nigga looks good. He wraps his arm ’round me like he’s my man. I let ’im get it, though. The nigga can front if he want. I can tell his ass is diggin’ the attention, too.

  “Damn, these muhfuckas all over my baby,” he says as he kisses me on the side of my head. “I need to get ya fine-ass up outta here.”

  I smirk, teasin’ ’im. “Maybe you shoulda been walkin’ wit’ a booga bitch instead of a buttery bitch like me.”

  “Nah, it’s all good. I don’t wanna have’ta go in anyone’s mouth; that’s all.”

  “Oh, puhleeze. Let me find out you jealous,” I say, laughin’.

  “Nah, ain’t nuthin’, yo. I’m sayin’, though. Niggas real extra tryna holla at you, that’s all.”

  “Boy, stop…you don’t hear me sayin’ shit ’bout them hoes I peeped eye-fuckin’ you.”

  “I ain’t beat for none’a them. But you know what. I want muhfuckas to see what they can’t have.”

  I laugh. “Oh Lawwd. Here you go. And what makes you think you can have me?”

  “Yo, don’t front. I already got you. You just need to admit it.”

  “Wrong answer. You only fuckin’ me. You don’t have me.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Go ’head wit’ that dumb shit. You already know what it is.”

  I smirk, shakin’ my head. “What I know is when you walkin’ the strip wit’ a fine-ass bitch like me on ya arm, you gotta ’xpect muhfuckas gonna look and say what they say. Now if that’s gonna be too much for you to handle, then maybe you might need’a downgrade.”

  “Downgrade hell. Fuck outta here.” He pulls me into ’im tighter. “I already know my baby’s a problem.”

  I suck my teeth. “See, here we go wit’ this ‘baby’ shit, again.”

  When we finally get to Virgil’s restaurant, he holds open the door for me. “Yup-yup; so get used to it.”

  I walk in. “Whateva. I ain’t tryna hear that shit. You need’a hurry up and feed me. I’m hungry.”

  “Yo, I got you. This here’s only da appetizers, so it should hold you over ’til we get back to da crib.”

  I look up at ’im, smirkin’. “Oh really? And then what?”

  He grins, leanin’ into my ear. “I’ma feed you this big-ass dick.”

  I roll my eyes, followin’ behind ’im and the maitre d’ to our table. But, trust and believe. Him whisperin’ that shit in my ear done got a bitch’s pussy poppin’. Nasty muhfucka!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Ice on my neck, wrists and hands…Hermès Birkin bag draped on my arm…diamond stilettos on my feet…don’t be mislead… I’m from the hood, baby…shit ain’t sweet…do me wrong… end up dead…

  For some reason, a nervous energy fills me as I walk through the funeral home’s doors. I have no intentions of sittin’ through this bitch’s funeral service, but I thought it only right to make an appearance at ’er viewin’. I peep the ivory casket up at the front of the room and the few flower arrangements, then glance ’round the room to see who’s here. Not many. Most of my cousins are here; some I’m cool wit’, othas I don’t give’a fuck ’bout. My grandmother is sittin’ up in the first pew, Patrice is on one side’a ’er and Rosa’s oldest son, Arturo, is on the otha side. They are both huggin’ ’er, tryna console ’er. Elise is standin’ up at the casket wit’ Rosa’s youngest son, Javier. They are all cryin’.

  I take a deep breath. Oversized black Dior glasses on my face and chunky diamonds in my lobes, a bitch struts down the aisle toward Rosa’s casket in a sexy black, long-sleeved Diane von Furstenberg silk beaded wrap dress wit’ plungin’ neckline and a slick-ass pair of Jimmy Choo double-banded, five-inch shimmerin’ booties. My Hermès bag hangs in the crook of my arm. Yeah, a bitch is bringin’ it high-fashion—and overdressed. So da fuck what! Any chance I get, I’m servin’ it to these hoes. Besides, the only ho who I knew would be tryna bring it is Patrice, so a bitch had’a be two steps flyer than ’er even if I was only makin’ a brief appearance.

  The closer I get to the casket, the louder e’eryone’s cryin’ gets. Elise reaches into the casket and lays ’er hand on top of Rosa’s, then grips it. She kisses Rosa on the forehead, then starts hollerin’ and grippin’ the side of the caskets all broken up. Poor thing, I think, makin’ my way to the front of the room. I watch as Javier helps ’er back to ’er seat. Arturo scoots down so she can sit on the otha side’a ’er mother.

  All eyes are on me as I stand at the casket, starin’ down at Rosa. I lift my shades up ova my head. Oh well. It didn’t have’ta be like this, Sweetie. All you had’a do was stay in ya lane. But nooooooooo, ya crackhead ass wanted to get funky wit’ it and try ’n bring it to a bitch. Now look at you. All boxed ’n ready to go. I feel like spittin’ in ya face, ho, and knockin’ you otta that casket for havin’ me have’ta body ya dumb-ass. All you had’a do was fall da fuck back. Oh well. Rest in peace, ho.

  As I turn to walk off, Arturo comes up to me and gives me a big hug. “Hey, cuz, glad you came.”

  I hug ’im back. I haven’t seen ’im in over four years. I take ’im in. He’s ova six-feet tall wit’ bronze-colored skin wit’ jet-black curly hair and almond-shaped eyes. The nigga’s all grown up and fine as fuck. “Sorry ’bout what happened to ya moms,” I say, tryna sound as sincere as I possibly can.

  “Yeah, it’s all fucked up. If I ever find out who did this to ’er it’s on, feel me?”

  I nod, peepin’ my grandmother starin’ me down. The old ho is burnin’ a hole through me. I roll my eyes. Bitch, you can get it, too, I think, shiftin’ my attention back to Arturo. His eyes start to water. “I can’t believe she’s gone.” He wipes tears as they fall.

  Bitch, keep it cute. Don’t say anything reckless. “You gotta stay strong” is the best I can say to ’im. “Ya moms wouldn’t want you gettin’ caught up in no extras. You gotta keep ’er memory alive by stayin’ focused.”

  “Yeah, you right, cuz. Still, the shit’s hard. She’s been in this neighborhood for years, ain’t never had no issues. And all’a sudden some punk-ass muhfucka pops up ’n just snuffs ’er out. Shits crazy, man.”

  “You keep ya head, cuz. It was good seein’ you.”

  “No doubt. You bouncin’?”

  “Yeah, you know I ain’t got no real love in this room.”

  He shakes his head, smilin’. “I can’t believe ya’ll still beefin’ like this. Kat, life is too short, ma. Look at us. We all scattered ’round. This half ain’t fuckin’ wit’ this one. The other half and fuckin’ wit’ the others. Shit’s crazy. We ’posed to be a family.”

  I take a deep breath. Bitch, hurry up ’n get da fuck outta here ’fore he says sumthin’ and you gotta crank it up in here. “The only ones I eva had beef wit’ is Patrice ’n Juanita. But ya moms ’n ’em had’a
make they beef, too, instead’a stayin’ outta it and let us handle it how we were gonna handle it.”

  “I hear you, cuz, but you gotta let that shit go. I miss seein’ you ’round when we have family functions ’n shit.”

  “Trust me. I’m lettin’ it go,” I say, givin’ ’im anotha hug. “I’m not a part’a this family; neva was, neva will be. And I’m cool wit’ that. I came to pay my respects, but I’m so ova all’a them.”

  “Yo, I’m sorry ’bout what popped off wit’ ya moms.”

  I shrug. “She brought it on ’erself.”

  “That nigga gotta get it, yo.”

  “Oh, trust. He will.”

  “You gonna take da baby?”

  “I’m thinkin’ ’bout it. I’m not sure, yet.”

  “I know Abuela was talkin’ to my moms ’bout ’em takin’ da baby and raisin’ it.”

  I frown, feelin’ myself ’bout to kick it up a notch. I wanna walk ova to them hoes and snap on ’em. But I don’t. Javier comes ova and gives me a hug. He looks almost like his brotha; a few inches shorter, and stockier. His hair is freshly braided in cornrows that zig-zag and criss-cross.

  “I almost didn’t know who you was,” he says, eyein’ me. “Aunt Pat had’a tell me it was you. You lookin’ real good, cuz. Still keepin’ it on ten; fly as ever.”

  I smile. “That’s da only way I know how’ta do it. You lookin’ good ya’self.”

  He smiles back at me. “Where you been?”

  “I’ve been ’round; just keepin’ it real low-key.”

  “I feel you. You know some’a us do miss you, Kat.”

  I glance ova at Elise, Patrice and my grandmotha, then back at ’im. “I wish I could say da same. This family neva cared ’bout me.”