by Cairo
I take a deep breath. “Julius, have I ever fuckin’ kept you away from Joshua?”
“Nah, you haven’t. That’s one thing I can honestly say, Cass. You’ve never been on that crazy shit when it comes to me seein’ our son.”
“Then why the fuck is you tryna finger-fuck me and take my son away from me, Julius?”
He sighs. “Cass, I’m not tryna take our son away from you. I want full residential custody. He can stay with you on the weekends, and alternatin’ holidays.”
My heart drops to my feet. I feel lightheaded. I’m startin’ to feel like I’ma throw up. I ain’t tryna be without my son. But I ain’t about to beg no niggah, either. But I feel myself on the verge of beggin’, pleadin’ for him to not do this. I swallow. It feels like I have a hard dick down in my throat, pluggin’ up my airway. And right now that’s what I wish it was instead of the shit this niggah’s tryna shove down my neck. “Niggah-bitch, boom! I’m not about to be no goddamn part-time mother.”
“Look, Cass. I don’t wanna beef with you about it. I know you’re upset. You should be. But, let’s face it. You brought this shit on ya’self with all the shit you keep going. Besides, you gotta enough kids to deal with. Joshua will be better off with me. This way he can get the attention he deserves.”
“Niggah, he deserves to be with his mother! And I don’t keep shit goin’, niggah. I mind my business. I don’t do drama. And you know it.”
He laughs. “Yo, Cass, stop. You have more assault charges and disorderly persons offenses than either one of us can keep up with. You stay in the middle of some shit. And I don’t want my son around it anymore.”
“Niggah, you a goddamn lie! I don’t stay in shit. Bitches bring they shit to me. I don’t go out lookin’ for it.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. Maybe you ain’t out there lookin’ for it. But you damn sure out shakin’ ya ass and fightin’. You spend more time at the bars than you do at home bein’ a mother. It’s for the best.”
“Niggah-coon, boom! You’se a goddamn lie. I’m home every damn day with my kids. I’m at every school function and parent-teacher conference. They come home to a clean goddamn house, and a house full of food. Don’t do me, niggah!”
“Cass, I’m not sayin’ you a bad mother. All I’m saying is, it’s time for Joshua to live with me. I know you do the best you can. But, I’m sorry. It’s not enough. My son needs a stable home; something you’re not able to give him. We can hash out all the details in court.”
Cop or not, if this niggah was standin’ right here I’d take it to his goddamn face. But I know goin’ upside his head would only make shit worse for me so I shake thoughts of clawin’ his face up and lumpin’ him up. But I swear, I wanna do this niggah real good. Big dick bitch!
I crumple the letter in my hand, then throw it across the room. “Julius, eat the inside of my ass, bitch. And eat it goddamn good ’cause I am goin’ to bring you down, niggah. If you think I’ma let you take my son from me without a good fight, you gotta ’nother thing comin’. And you know I love a good goddamn fight so buckle up, bitch.”
I hang up on his ass, then march out into the livin’ room. I stand at the bottom of the stairs and call out, “Joshua! Get yo’ . . . ” I catch myself from goin’ off on him ’cause I know he ain’t the enemy. His fahver is. “Joshua!”
“Yes?” he says, standin’ at the top of the stairs.
“Come here, boo. Come talk to Mommy.”
He looks at me suspiciously before comin’ down. He must think I’m tryna lure him into some kinda trap, then fuck him up or somethin’. I let him know he ain’t gettin’ a beat down. “Oh, okay,” he says, soundin’ relieved as he follows me to my room. I tell him to shut the door behind him.
I sit on my bed, then pat the space beside me. “Come sit, boo.” I wait for him to sit, then shift my body, tuckin’ a leg beneath me. I reach for his hands. “Do you know ya fahver wants you to live with him?”
His eyes widen, then he lowers them to his lap.
My heart drops. That dirty motherfucka! Tryna backdoor me, goddamn him! I lift his chin up and look at him. In my head, I’m smackin’ his damn face up ’cause he looks so much like his fahver. In my heart, I know he ain’t the problem. That motherfuckin’ Julius is! “You knew about this?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“So you knew that motherfu . . . ya fahver was gonna take me to court and you ain’t say shit, Joshua, why?”
“Daddy told me not to?”
“Oh, so you turnin’ ya back on me, huh? You choosin’ that coon motherfuc . . . I mean, ya fahver over me, is that it, Joshua? After all I’ve done, you tryna do me, too?”
“No, I’m not tryna do it to you, Mommy. I wanna live with you and Daddy. But Daddy said it’s better if I live with him, and come stay here on the weekends.”
“Do you wanna live with him?”
He nods. “Yes, sometimes I do. But I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
I gasp, clutchin’ my chest. I feel like someone has set fire to all my Louis heels and red bottoms, then opened all of my handbags and tossed hot shit in ’em. “Why, boo? Why you wanna live with that motherf . . . ya fahver?”
He shrugs. And I feel like shakin’ the shit outta him ’cause I know he knows why he wanna abandon me. “Don’t do me, Joshua. I’m not gonna go off on you. I only wanna know why you wanna leave ya brothers and sister. I wanna know why you wanna leave me.”
“I don’t wanna leave you, Mommy. I wanna stay the weekends with you and some of the summer. But . . . it’s too many kids here. And Isaiah and the twins are always goin’ in my stuff.”
“Well, that’s what brothers do, boo. They ’posed to go through ya shit and get on ya nerves. But you ain’t ’posed to wanna turn ya back on ’em and wanna move out.” I squeeze his hands tighter. “You ain’t ’posed to do this to us, goddamn you. All my life I’ve fought to keep all’a you together ’cause I’m ya mother. You ain’t ’posed to wanna break us up.” Oooh, I feel so goddamn betrayed. Now I’m shakin’ him. And he’s lookin’ at me like I’m crazy. I catch myself before I swing him into a wall, then grab him and pull him into my arms. I hug him, tight. “That ain’t what brothers do, Joshua. They stick together. They ride or die with each other. Not run off. But I ain’t mad at you. If you wanna go live with ya fahver and leave us, then you go right ahead.” I choke back my anger at that no-good motherfucka. Oh, he’s fuckin’ with the wrong one!
“You promise you not mad at me, Mommy?”
I take a deep breath. Push back a tear. And you know I don’t do drama or goddamn tears. “No, boo. I ain’t mad at you.” His eyes water with tears. I wipe them as they fall. Then kiss him on his forehead. “Mommy loves you, boo. And anyone tryna take you from me gotta pay. I don’t give a goddamn who it is. But if you wanna go live with ya fahver, then I ain’t gonna stop you.” I let him go. Tell him he can go on back upstairs. He gives me another hug, then walks off toward the door. He opens it, then turns back to me.
“I love you, Mommy. And I’ma call you every day, okay?”
I nod, forcin’ a smile. That’s all I can give him. He done sliced me open, then snatched my heart outta my chest with this shit. And that motherfuckin’ fahver of his gave him the blade to do it. He quietly closes the door behind him, leavin’ me sittin’ on my bed, starin’ at the shut door.
“Cass,” Dicklina says, snappin’ her gum in my ear. I am layin’ across my bed on my back starin’ up at the ceilin’. “That’s what you get for havin’ babies wit’ a motherfucka who wanna be a daddy. Shit, all these no-good, deadbeat niggahs you coulda had and you get one who wanna play fahver of da year. Shit don’t make no sense.”
I blink. I’ve been on the phone with Lina for the last two hours, ventin’. But now I see that this bitch is extra special and severely retarded and I had no goddamn business callin’ her with this shit. “Lina, I’m glad the niggah wants to be in Joshua’s life. I just don’t want him tryna take him from me. I like things the way t
hey are. But now this niggah wanna play dirty. And I’m not havin’ it.”
“Boo, and that’s why I’m sayin’ you shoulda got knocked up by a bum niggah. Bum-niggahs got that good dick, too, Cass. Shit, look at Candy and Tina’s fahvers. They ain’t seen’t their daddies since they were two or three months old. And they don’t want nuthin’ to do wit’ ’em either. And that’s fine by me ’cause I ain’t gotta worry about the dumb shit, or my girls bein’ around they other bitches.”
I frown. “Lina, you sound cuckoo crazy, boo. Kids need they fahvers in their lives. They just don’t need the motherfuckas tryna take ’em away from good goddamn mothers.”
“Mmmph. I guess.”
I take a deep breath. This bitch ain’t gotta clue. Both of our mothers were junkie-hoes. Hers to dope, mine to crack. She didn’t know her fahver, but at least I knew mine. He was in my life. And I remember him givin’ me a hug, and tellin’ me he was gonna come back to take me for ice cream. But the niggah never did. A bullet got ’im in the head, first, for gettin’ caught fuckin’ some other niggah’s wife. I was eight. My junkie mother didn’t want him in my life ’cause he ain’t wanna be in hers. I swore I’d never be like that. I promised myself that when I had babies I was gonna make sure my kids at least knew who their daddies were, even if the niggah didn’t wanna know them.
Shit. I may have a buncha baby daddies, but at least I know who every last one of my kids’ fahvers are. I know who I let nut up in this pussy and when I let ’em do it. Unlike Lina’s ho-ass who had to pick a name outta a hat ’cause the bitch ain’t know which niggah she was fuckin’ was Candy or Clitina’s fahvers ’cause she was fuckin’ the fahver and his two sons. Sometimes they fucked her at the same time. Mmmph. Lina was a nasty bitch back in her day. Anyway, come to find out Candy was the old-ass fahver’s baby. And Clitina’s daddy is one of the sons. So they sistahs and cousins, too! Oooh, that ho was messy back then.
“Well, I know they don’t. I could see if I was a triflin’ bitch who ain’t take care of her kids, but this niggah tryna do me like I’m hot trash or somethin’.”
“Well, I ain’t wanna say nuthin’, Cass, ’cause I know how you get. But he kinda gotta point. You do be out in da clubs a lot. And you always complainin’ about how bad they asses is. Maybe it’s best Joshua go live wit’ his daddy. Look on da bright side, that’s one less child you gotta worry about feedin’ and clothin’ and hollerin’ at.”
“Bitch, ain’t no goddamn bright side to that dumb shit you talkin’. That’s my baby that motherfucka’s tryna take from me. I don’t give a goddamn how bad my kids might be, I ain’t never wanna give ’em up to no-goddamn-body. And I ain’t about to give ’em up now. And on that note, before I curse ya black ass out, eat the inside of my ass, bitch. I’m done with ya black ass.”
I disconnect. That bitch done gave me a headache. I lift myself up from the bed. I feel so weak. I wanna call Julius’s ass back and bring it to him good. But I know all he gonna do is not answer his phone or hang up on me.
I need a blunt and a good goddamn lawyer!
“I gotta get this money up,” I think, pullin’ out a blunt, then walkin’ into the bathroom to get my get my head right. I spark up, take three pulls, then start scrollin’ through my cell to see who I can call. Yeah, I got a couple of dollars I could use to pay for a lawyer, but why should I have’ta dig in my stash when all I have to do is lay on my back, or drop down on my hands ’n knees and arch this back. No. A smart bitch holds onto her change, and finds herself a niggah who’s willin’ to spend up his.
I go through my list of sponsors in my head. At the moment, I only have two. JT and Born. And JT has more money than Born. But Born won’t be on no extra shit. He’ll fuck me real good, drop them dollars, then bounce. The niggah JT is gonna wanna put more claims on me. I blow smoke up into the air, then call Born.
“Yo, wassup, ma? How you?”
“I’m okay, I guess.” I sigh, then pause. “Umm, no, I’m not. I’m all fucked up, Born. I gotta get lawyered up, boo. And I need you to finance me, if you can.”
“What you need?” Shit, I don’t know since I ain’t called around for one. But I know they pricey. I tell him ten grand. But I ain’t ’bout to give no coon ten grand for shit. I’ma find me a lawyer for under five gees, then use the rest of the money to buy Marquelle, Isaiah, and Joshua new iPhones, then get me a new MacBook and a fifty-inch flat-screen for my bedroom. But he ain’t gotta know all that. He whistles. “Daaayuuum, ma. I ain’t got ten grand. But I can prolly hit you with like thirty-five hunnid.”
I smile. “Okay, boo. Thank you. You always come through for me.”
“You know I got you, ma. You my peoples. I can have that to you tomorrow mornin’ sometime, aiight?”
“That works. And I’ma have you a dish of wet pussy for you when you do.”
He laughs. “Aiight, that’s wassup. I can always use some’a that.”
“Uh-huh. I know you can.” We talk a few minutes more. He tells me he’ll text me in the mornin’ when he’s ready to meet up, then disconnect.
I wait ’til I finish smokin’ before I call JT’s ass. Crazy or not, the niggah’s stacks are heavy, his dick is thick, and he don’t ever tell me no. But fuckin’ this devil-ass niggah and takin’ his money comes with a price. And it’s only a matter of time before the niggah tries to collect.
Twenty-Two
“Who else you givin’ this pussy to, yo?” JT asks, throwin’ me down on the bed, then pinnin’ my legs back. I don’t answer him. He rips my thong off, then slaps my pussy and clit. “Yo, you hear me fuckin’ talkin’ to you, yo? I asked you who the fuck else you fuckin’?”
Although a mixture of pain and pleasure shoot through me, I frown. This is the first time he’s ever man-handled me like this. “Niggah, I don’t answer to you and you don’t own me. I fuck who I wanna fuck.”
He rams his dick in my slit, pressin’ his right hand into my neck. He squeezes. “Yo, fuck outta here. I own this shit . . . ” He bites the side of my neck. “This pussy’s mine, Cass.” He rapidly bangs up my walls. Oooh, the dingaling feels soooo damn good. But I ain’t diggin’ him tryna choke me out.
“Get off . . . mmmph . . . my . . . uhhh . . . neck, niggah.” I dig my nails into his hand. Slap him with my free hand. This only seems to make his dick harder.
“Oh, fuck, slutty bitch . . . I own this shit, yo . . . mmmm . . . good-ass, muthafuckin’ pussy . . . aaah . . . you gonna fuck ’round . . . mmmm . . . and have me . . . uhhh . . . kill ya muhfuckin’ . . . mmmm, shitfuck . . . ass, yo . . . ”
This niggah has a nutty look in his eyes. Everything about this niggah looks crazy. But he’s fuckin’ me so damn good. I try not to moan, but he’s hittin’ my spot. He pulls his dick out as I’m skeetin’, slingin’ me over onto my stomach. My pussy juice keeps shootin’ outta me, then streaks down the inside of my thighs.
“Get on ya muhfuckin’ knees, yo.” He slaps my ass, hard. Makes it bounce ’n jiggle, then pulls my cheeks open and rams his dick back in. “I don’t want nobody else hittin’ this shit, yo.” He yanks me by hair. “You hear me, yo?”
I hold back a loud moan. “Fuck you, niggah! I do what . . . . w-want with . . . t-this . . . mmmph . . . pussy.”
I throw my hips back at him. He stops pumpin’ in and outta me. Tells me to fuck his dingaling. And I do. I give the niggah a good fuckin’. Watch him over my shoulder toss his head back, shut his eyes, and grunt. He has his hands planted up on his waist. Sweat is drippin’ down his face and chest. Shit, for the ten grand this niggah done lined my handbag with the least I can do is give him his money’s worth. The fact that—when this day with this niggah is over—I will have collected, between him and Born, over thirteen thousand dollars makes me hornier than usual. I coat his dick with my cream, makin’ my ass clap. I wanna hurry up and make this niggah nut so I can get the fuck on with my day. I wanna get down to the salon and get my hair, nails, and feet did. Then buy me some new heels and a handbag for court.
>
“Fuck me in my ass,” I tell him, knowin’ he’ll nut in five minutes . . . in two if I talk real gutter-slutty. “Give it to me good, niggah. Spit in my asshole and prison fuck my ass, niggah. Show me how they do it in prison, boo.”
He reaches over and plays with my wet clit as he pounds in and outta my pussy. His sweat drips on my back. “Aaah fuck . . . mmm . . . you want me to bust ya ass open, huh? You want this big-ass dick in that phat ass? Mmmph . . . you’se a nasty freak bitch . . . ”
“Yeah, Ja . . . uhh . . . oooh . . . give it to me . . . ”
“I wanna keep fuckin’ this pussy . . . aaahhh, shit . . . ”
He presses my head down into the mattress, clamps his thighs around my hips and bangs my pussy up like a set of drums. “You like this dick slidin’ in and outta you, huh? You like it when I’m fuckin’ you deep in this wet pussy?”
In a flash I go from purrin’ to full-fledged growlin’ like some foamy-mouthed wildebeest. “Yesss, goddammit! Fuck me deep in it, motherfucka! Do me right, goddammit!”
“Yeah, baby . . . I love this dick in you . . . yeah, you love this dick, bitch . . . ?”
“Yesssssssss, motherfucka, yesssssssssss!
He pulls it out to the head, dips in and out nice ’n easy. Then speed-pokes my slit, causin’ juices to splash out. I grab it, slurp it, with my muscles. “Ohhh, fuck . . . pussy so muthafuckin’ good.”
He slaps my ass, then rams back in, deep. The niggah wants me to beg him to feed my asshole his dingalaing, stretch it open ’til it whistles. He wants me to whimper and plead for the dingaling. But I ain’t beggin’ no niggah for shit. I don’t give a fuck how good the dick is.
I moan. “Motherfucka . . . you ain’t shit . . . uhhh . . . long dicked, bitch . . . ohhh, yessss . . . mmmm . . . ”
He goes in with long, deep strokes, then pulls and short strokes my hole, then plunges back in deep. He keeps hittin’ my spot. His dick strokes are relentless. The motherfucka is doin’ me right, goddammit! He pulls back out to the head, sirs the tip in and out. Slllurp, sllllurp, slllllllurp! Swish, swish, swish! Jucies keep splashin’ out. I am cummin’ and cummin’ and cummin’. I glance over my shoulder at him. The niggah is lookin’ down, watchin’ as his hard dingaling disappears inside of me.