Big Booty

by Cairo

  “Damn, do that shit, ma,” one of the regulars sittin’ at a table not too far from the door yells over the music. “You workin’ that shit, baby.”

  “Whew, goddamn! She gotta ass on her,” I hear someone else say. I glance over my shoulder and see that it’s a niggah I ain’t never seen before. From what I can see, he’s a tall, brown-skinned niggah, rockin’ a pair of baggy jeans, a red and white striped button-up with a red fitted on his head and Timbs on his feet.

  I spin around and give them a little extra treat, shakin’ it all fast and nasty-like. He’s sittin’ at a table with two other niggahs. They howl and clap, egging me on.

  Buddha spots me as I dance. I pretend I don’t see his frontin’ ass. Niggah still hasn’t called me. And all that does is make me wanna get in his boxers even more. He’s sittin’ up at the bar, alone. It’s still kinda early so there are still a lot of seats empty around the bar. Buddha’s eyes roam my body as I dance, stoppin’ every so often to twirl my hips, then booty clap it a bit. Once it gets packed up in here, I’ll turn it up on blast and really work the floor. And by the end of the night I’ll have every motherfucka up in here droolin’. And ready to make it rain up in this bitch. I always do.

  As the music fades, I pop my hips over to the bar, sittin’ my Chanel bag—compliments of another one of my young sponsors—up on the bar.

  “What’s good, Ms. Simms?” he asks as I saunter over to him. “You lookin’ real good tonight. How you?”

  I ease up on the barstool, then lean into him. “I’m good; very good. But you wouldn’t know that ’cause you keep runnin’ from me.”

  He laughs. “Nah. I’m not runnin’, ma.”

  I roll my eyes. “Niggah, quit. When you gonna stop playin’ games and lick my pussy and eat this ass?”

  “Nah, no games, Ms. Simms; real shit. I’m sayin’ . . . you sexy as fuck. But I told you I don’t want no heat from Jah. Even though we ain’t cool like that anymore, me and Jah used to be mad tight, feel me? I mean, if you wasn’t his moms, I’d definitely be wit’ it.”

  “No, that’s what I’m tryna do. Feel that dick. And I already told you Jah’mel’s ass is locked up. So what that got to do with you and me? Besides, he ain’t my pussy’s keeper. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  He nods his head. “True, true. But you know muhfuckas stay runnin’ they mouths.”

  “Well, they can’t run their mouths unless a muhfucka’s givin’ them somethin’ to tell.

  He grins. “True.”

  “Whatever, muhfucka,” I say, playfully mushin’ him in the side of his head. “You actin’ like you’re scared of pussy.”

  “Nah, never that.”

  “Well, then you’re scared of all of this pussy?

  “Oh, damn. You think?”

  “Niggah, I know.”

  “Yeah, aiight. I already told you what it was. What you drinkin’ tonight?”

  “Hmm, I wanna sip on some cock cream, yours for starters.” I lick my lips.

  Big Mike, one of the bartenders, catches my eye and gives me a head nod. I wave him over, eyein’ him as he makes his way over to us. They call him Big Mike ’cause everything on him is big—big head, big eyes, big nose, big lips, big hands and fingers, big feet, big balls and an extra big dick. The only reason I haven’t fucked him is because he’s my third son’s daddy’s relative.

  Big Mike smiles at me. “Wassup, Cassandra? Where’s ya girl tonight?”

  I flip my wrist. “Where else, sniffin’ up underneath Knutz’s musty balls.”

  He laughs. “Yo, you ain’t right.”

  “Well, I ain’t wrong, either.”

  “I heard that. What can I get you tonight?”

  “Let me get a Cum Cannon. Go heavy on the nut tonight.” Code for extra Bailey’s and Crème de Cacao.

  “Comin’ right up. Oh, I got that new Crack Pipe on deck if you wanna hit that, instead.”

  I snap. “What? I know you’re not standin’ here tryna play me, Mike. You and I go way back, niggah. I smoke weed. Not crack! Take that shit on somewhere else, comin’ to me with that. Your motherfuckin’ fat-ass mammy and stank-ass sister smoke that shit, niggah.”

  Buddha laughs. “Oh, shit. She just went in, son.”

  Big Mike starts laughin’ too. “Yo, Cassie, yo’ ass is crazy as hell; for real, baby. Now you know I wouldn’t play you like that. I already know how you get down. I’m talkin’ about the new drink we’re featurin’ tonight.”

  I place a hand up over my mouth, feeling bad that I called his mother and sister out like that. “Oops. Well, why you didn’t say that shit in the first place? My bad.” I ask him what’s in it. He tells me Wild Turkey, 151, and Rumple Minze—a peppermint liqueur. I frown. “Uh, I’ll pass. I can think of somethin’ a whole lot more excitin’ to get strung out on.”

  He laughs. “It’s all good, baby.” I apologize for gettin’ at his mom like that. “Yo, you know I don’t sweat shit like that, baby. We cool. How’s my lil’ cuz doin’?”

  “Da’Quan’s fine.” He’s my nineteen-year-old. And Big Mike happens to be Darryl’s nephew. “I’m tryin’ to keep him from lettin’ them fast-ass hoes out there get him caught up. I keep tellin’ him to keep that long dick of his in his pants and that head on his shoulders in them books.”

  “That’s wassup. He’s still at Howard?”

  “He sure is. He has two more years to go. And I’m not about to let him fuck it up on some wet pussy.” Out of all of my boys, Da’Quan and my seventeen-year-old, Marquelle, are the two who I know are gonna do somethin’ really good with their lives. I am so proud of ’em both. And I will stomp a hole in any bitch who tries to bring either one of ’em down. Then I’ma stomp their asses out for lettin’ ’em.

  He smiles. “Yo, that’s wassup. Stay in my lil’ cuz’s ass.” He digs in his pocket, pullin’ out a wad of money. He peels off three bills, then slides them to me. “Give him this. And tell him I said to hit me up when he gets a chance. I wanna rap to him.”

  “I sure will,” I say, foldin’ the Benjamins in half, then again. I stuff the money down in my bra. “Now hurry up with my drink. I need my throat coated with somethin’ thick and creamy.” I shoot a look over at Buddha.

  Big Mike laughs, shakin’ his head as he walks off.

  “Yo, you wild for real for real,” Buddha says. “You spazzed out on dude real quick.”

  “Mmmph. He’ll get over it. Big Mike knows how I am. And if you got ya mind right, you’d know too.”

  He slings back his shot glass. “Aaah. I know how you get down; you real thorough with yours.”

  “And you know I like the young boys, too.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I heard.”

  I eye him as he tosses back another shot glass, then licks his lips. He chases it back with his Heineken. “Uh-huh. And what else you heard?” He shifts in his seat. I can tell I’ve put him on the spot. I smile. “It’s cool. You can tell me.”

  “Nah, you cool peeps. I’ve never heard anyone say anything sideways about you. Know what I’m sayin’?”

  “Buddha, baby. It’s okay. I know niggahs talk. They’re worse than bitches.” I lean in closer, slide my hand between his legs on the sly, then whisper in his ear. “I know you’ve heard I have some real good pussy, and a deep, fat ass. You heard I like to be fucked in all three holes, haven’t you? Keep it real.”

  He rubs his chin. Openin’ and closin’ his legs. “Yeah, sumthin’ like that.”

  “And you not curious?”

  “I ain’t sayin’ that.”

  I rub his dick until it thickens. “Then what’s the problem?

  “You already know what it is.”

  I suck my teeth. “Niggah, man up. And handle this pussy like I know you can. I don’t have on any drawers.”

  He grins. “Damn, ma,” he says, glancin’ around the bar. He takes a swig of his beer. “Why you fuckin’ wit’ me like this?”

  “I wanna fuck you. Don’t you wanna feel your dick deep in
my ass?”

  He fans his legs open and shut. His dick is extra bricked. “Word is bond, you got me wantin’ to get into sumthin’. Shit.”

  “Let me make you feel good,” I say to him as Big Mike walks back over with my drink. I slide my hand up on the bar.

  Red Café’s “Fly Together” starts playin’. I hop off the barstool and start hoppin’ and droppin’ it. I grab my drink from off the bar, and pull him by the arm. “Dance with me.”

  He glances down in his lap. “Nah, no dice, ma; not yet.”

  I laugh, shakin’, bouncin’, and poppin’ my ass to the beat with him takin’ in my every move. The way he is looking at me, I can tell I got the niggah thinkin’, got him wonderin’, about burying his dick in me. My pussy and ass are on fire! I dance up a light sweat, slowly twirlin’ my body. He watches me watchin’ him. Then tosses back another shot of Rémy, chasin’ it with another swig of his beer. I lick my lips, purposefully, when he slides his hand down in his sweats. To handle that hard-ass dick, I’m sure.

  I dance over to him and whisper in his ear, “I want your balls deep in my ass, Buddha. Let’s stop playin’ this game. I know you wanna fuck me. So let’s do this, tonight.” He grins. “I’m not playin’, niggah. I want some dick—yours.”

  He glances around the bar, guzzles down the rest of his beer, then brings his attention back to me. He grins, standin’ up. “Aiight. Fuck it. Let’s roll.”

  Twelve

  Buddha and I can barely make it through the door of the nasty little hole in the wall motel he’s rented out. But, who cares? Big Booty’s here for the dick. Not the décor. And I plan on fuckin’ this young niggah down.

  I watch as he reaches behind him and lifts his shirt up over his head, then slides outta his sweats. I take his body in. His arms are muscular and toned. There’s a curly patch of hair in the center of his chiseled chest; strands of hair around his dark nipples. Heat shoots through my pussy as I glance down at the trail of hair that runs down his rippled stomach into his boxers. I lick my lips. This motherfucka’s body is sick. And now for the moment I’ve been waiting for, I think as he steps outta his boxers. My eyes light up as his long dick swings and bounces, freely. It is a big, juicy beef sausage that hangs over balls the size of extra-large brown eggs. And tonight, a bitch wanna scramble ’em up right!

  My asshole and pussy clench in anticipation. “Oooooh, that’s a nice, big dick,” I say, walkin’ over to my handbag and pullin’ out a bottle of Astroglide and two condoms—one for my ass and the other for my pussy. I will let him fuck me in all three holes because I know, understand, the art of fuckin’ a niggah so good that you not only have him beggin’ for the shit again, but willin’ to do almost anything you want to get it. When I am done riding Buddha’s cock, I will not only have him eating my ass, but outta the palm of my hands, too.

  He gives me a cocky grin like, “Yeah, bitch. I gotta big dick. Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

  “I’ma call you lil’ daddy tonight,” I tell him, walkin’ up on him, then droppin’ down to my knees.

  “Oh, word? I got ya lil’ daddy, aiight”—he grabs at his dick—“right here.”

  I take his dick in both hands. “You better hope”—I kiss the tip of his dick—“you”—twirl my tongue around it—“can”—lick along its right side—“hang”—lick the left side—“with me, lil’ daddy”—I look up at him, cuppin’ his balls—“ ’cause I’ma fuck and suck the shit outta you.”

  He palms the back of my head, winds his dick into my mouth. “Aaah, shit . . . I got you, ma.”

  I take the niggah by surprise and swallow him whole. All eight inches down in one gulp. His knees buckle. After all the men I’ve had to use to get what I’ve needed, I learned how to suck and fuck a niggah outta his mind, and his money. I press my nose deeper into the curly patch of pubic hair, allowin’ my throat muscles to massage the head of his dick.

  “Aaaaah, shit, baby . . . damn, suck that dick . . . oh, shit . . . godddddddddamn . . . uhhh . . . ” The niggah starts to stutter. “Fffffuck . . . aaaaah, shit . . . ”

  I moan. The sweet, musky man scent from his pubic hairs is turning me on beyond belief. My pussy is wet and drippin’ juices. I take my right hand and reach in back of me, sticking a finger into my ass. I moan. Bob my head back and forth, pullin’ his dick up outta my throat every so often to tease the head with my tongue, then gulp it back down. He squats, thrusting his hips into my face. I moan again. My pussy skeets as he skull-fucks me. I suck him harder, creatin’ a vacuum while makin’ wet, sloppin’ sounds. Hoover, Bissel, Dirt Devil, Eureka . . . none of them vacuums on the market could suck a dick up better than me.

  I make the niggah sing out. “Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Uh. Uh. Uh, shit.”

  My pussy is aflame. I’m ready to fuck. Ready to feel him stretch this ass open. I pull off his dick slowly, suckin’ all the way up, lickin’ the shaft, then tonguin’ the slit and lappin’ up the precum oozin’ out. When I finish, I smack my lips, pullin’ my mouth off and standin’ up. I grab him by the neck and bring his lips to mine. I kiss him. I can tell I’ve caught him off-guard with this. But I don’t care. If I suck your dick there are three things you will do. Eat my pussy, eat my ass, and kiss. Lucky for him he responds back; his tongue slippin’ deep into my mouth.

  I push into him, forcing him to walk backward toward the bed. I shove him, and he falls back on it. “Oh, shit . . . it’s like that?”

  “Shut up, niggah,” I say, crawlin’ on top of him, pinnin’ him down. “Yeah, it’s like that; makin’ me wait for this dick, niggah, like I’m one of them dumb, silly bitches you fuck.”

  “My bad, ma.” He opens his mouth to say somethin’ else and I shut him up with another kiss, savorin’ the remnants of booze and weed on his tongue. His dick is pressed up against his stomach. I position my pussy along its shaft, then slide back and forth; up and down its length. I wet his shaft up, then grind on the head.

  He grunts. “Yo, you ’bout to make me nut.”

  “Grab my ass, niggah.”

  He does. I lean forward and kiss his neck, his shoulders. Breathe in the mixture of cologne and weed that clings to his skin. He closes his eyes and quietly moans in the back of his throat. “You feel how wet my pussy is?”

  “Yeah, ma . . . ”

  “You like how I’m grindin’ it all over your dick?” I slide the mouth of my pussy over the head of his dick, again, and milk him.

  “Oh, shit yeah . . . goddamn, ma. Aaah, fuck . . . that shit feels good . . . Aaah, shit. Pussy real hot, ma. Feels like that shit’s suckin’ my dick . . . ”

  “You think you can handle this big, wet, pussy?”

  He groans. “Fuck yeah . . . ”

  “I’m about to give you somethin’ them young bitches will never give you.”

  “Oh, word? Mmmph . . . I wanna fuck, ma. You got me horny as fuck . . . got my shit hard as hell . . . I wanna feel my dick in that pussy.”

  I keep grindin’ and slidin’ up and down his cock until I coat it with a thick, creamy nut. I lick and suck his shoulder. Then run my tongue from his shoulder to his muscular chest, feeling another nut buildin’ up in the back of my deep, steamy asshole.

  I finally let go of his wrists, slidin’ one hand between my legs, using two fingers to press on my clit while my other hand pinches his left nipple and my tongue circles around his right one. I stop what I’m doin’, lookin’ up at him.

  “Be clear. I usually run a niggah’s pockets before I give him any of this sweet pussy and ass, but I’ve had my eye on you since you were sixteen, niggah. I’ve been waiting a long time to fuck you.”

  He grins. His eyes are half-closed, enjoyin’ the wet slide and glide my pussy’s doin’ over the head of his dick. “That’s wasssup, ma.”

  “Mmmhmm. Yes, it is. But know this. You will eat this pussy and ass before you put your dick up in it. And if you don’t know how to do either, you’re gonna learn tonight.”

  “Nah, I got you, m
a. I love eatin’ pussy . . . ”

  “And ass?”

  “No doubt.”

  “Good.” I shift my body around into the sixty-nine position. “Then start eatin’, niggah.” I lower my pussy down on his lips. And his mouth opens wide, welcomin’ its sticky heat. He sniffs in its honeyed scent, stickin’ his tongue in my slit. I purr and smile. My pussy hums; my heart racin’ with anticipation. “Slap my ass, lil’ niggah,” I urge before slippin’ his dick back into my mouth.

  He smacks it, softly.

  “Harder! Make it shake, niggah.”

  He smacks it again. “Oooh, yes, that’s better. Slap it like I stole somethin’ from ya bald-headed, crusty-ass momma! Make my ass pop, motherfucka.” He hits it again, this time hard. And my clit jumps. “Beat that ass up, niggah. Make it sting.”

  He smacks both of my cheeks, causin’ me to wiggle my ass. My pussy makes swish-swishy sounds as he slurps it, jabbin’ his tongue in and outta it. “Yeah, lil’ daddy . . . you’re a good pussy eater. Now work on my asshole. Get it nice and wet.”

  He moans, flickin’ his tongue across my hole.

  I moan back. And swallow him again, suckin’ harder than before. He bucks his hips upward, gruntin’ as I swallow his dick balls-deep. He has a mouthful of ass in his mouth, his tongue teasin’ and relaxin’ my hole.

  “Yeah, lil’ daddy . . . get that hole open nice and wet for this dick.” I spit on his cock and jerk him off. “I’ma bury this big-ass dick, niggah deep it my ass. You wanna stuff this dick in my ass, niggah?”

  He grunts again, grabbin’ a handful of ass and pullin’ it open as wide as it will go, darting his tongue in and out of it. My pussy starts to bubble up and boil over. Steam and juices splatter out onto his chest as I press down on my swollen clit.

  A few seconds later, he slips a finger into my ass, then pulls it out and slides in two. Twistin’ and pumpin’ them in and outta me. As Buddha finger-fucks me, I bob my head up and down on his dick while humpin’ his face. Waves of pleasure vibrate in the pit of my pussy, then explode, causin’ my body to jerk.