by Cairo
“No, it was six. Me and Bunz ain’t get a chance to do anything ’cause you kicked the door in on us.”
I frown. “So then his ass woulda been fuck partner number seven, right? And what kinda niggah calls himself ‘Buns’?’ ”
“It’s Bunz with a Zee.”
His long dick flashes in my head. I press my legs shut. “Whatever. So how many niggahs’ dicks you done sucked?”
“Ohmygod, Ma. Why you askin’ me all this?”
“See, you already done fucked up. I’m tryna have a civilized conversation with you, Asia, but you about to have me turn the ghetto switch on real quick. Don’t ‘ohmygod, Ma’ me. Answer the question, Day’Asia. How many niggahs you done sucked? I’m not gonna go off on you. So tell me.”
She shrugs.
“Bitch, what the fuck you shruggin’ for? You wanna do grown things, then be real with your shit. Now how many damn cocks you done shoved down in your goddamn throat? And don’t lie or I’ma fuck you up this mornin’ ’cause you know I’m still hot about you havin’ that cross-eyed niggah up in my goddamn house with his big-ass dick swingin’. Some motherfuckin’ Buns, Bunz, or whatever the fuck he goes by. So don’t have me set it off on your ass. Is that what you want, Day’Asia? You want me to stomp a hole in your ass this mornin’ ’cause you know I will.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I stare at her. “Then how many dicks have you sucked?”
She looks up at the ceilin’. I can’t believe this nasty-ass heifer is actually lookin’ up as if she’s tryna count the string of dicks in her head. “Ten.”
Well, I done heard it all now. I have a goddamn mini-super head livin’ under my roof. “Ten? Oh, so you a regular ole lil’ cum-guzzler, huh? You swallow, too?”
“Ewww! Ohmygod, Ma . . . no! That’s nasty. I spit.”
I-I-I’m shocked! How dare she? Oooh, I feel like slappin’ her goddamn face off. One: She’s suckin’ dick and wastin’ good nut; two: she’s sixteen and done already sucked off ten different niggahs and done let six niggahs fuck her; and three: she’s suckin’ and fuckin’ and don’t have a goddamn thing to show for it. This lil’ bitch gonna end up bein’ another damn Dickalina if I don’t school her ass, real fast.
I take a deep breath ’cause I done promised her I ain’t gonna go off. “Day’Asia, let me get this right. You done let six niggahs pound your pussy out already, right?”
She nods.
“And you done sucked at least ten different niggahs off, right?”
She nods, again.
“These niggahs you sucked, were they the same niggahs fuckin’ you or different ones?”
“Different ones,” she whispers.
“What? Speak up.”
“Different ones.”
I narrow my eyes. “So let me get this right. My sixteen-year-old daughter done had some kind of sex with at least seventeen different niggahs is that what you’re tellin’ me?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t ‘yeah’ me, ho.”
“Yes.”
“Mmmmph. You takin’ it in the ass, too?”
“Ohmygod, Ma! Noooooo! That’s goin’ too far.”
“So, why are you out here doin’ all this fuckin’?”
She shrugs, again.
I reach over and slap the shit out of her. “Don’t fuckin’ sit here and act like you don’t know why you’re doin’ all this fuckin’. You know exactly why ya nasty ass is fuckin’.” She grabs the side of her face. Balls her fists up. “Bitch, I wish you would. You better unclench those goddamn fists right now or I’ma take that as a sign that you wanna take it to the streets. And you know I love a good fight, so act like you wanna leap.”
She unclenches her hands. “I only wanted to know what it felt like,” she says, tryna hold back tears.
“And it felt good to you, didn’t it? That dick made your pussy hum, huh?”
She squirms. Tells me she got tired of hearin’ all the lil’ fast-ass girls she hangs out with talkin’ about how good dick was so she wanted to see for herself. “Mmmmph, so you a follower, huh? If them dumb bitches tell you they got HIV or AIDS, you gonna wanna see how that is too, I guess.”
“I’m not stupid, Ma. I don’t go out and do everything my friends do.”
I lean up in her face. “Lil’ girl, you are stupid. You stupid for fuckin’ and suckin’ a buncha goddamn niggahs in the first damn place. There’s no damn reason for you to be sluttin’ it up the way you are. You’re a pretty girl, Day’Asia. When I was your age, I had to ho it up to keep a damn roof over my head. I sucked and fucked a niggah because he had somethin’ I needed or wanted. And trust me. It had nothin’ to do with his goddamn dick. I’ve sucked and fucked a buncha niggahs to make sure you and your brothers never had to go without. Have you ever not gotten what you’ve wanted?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Exactly. So there’s no goddamn reason your dumb ass is out here ho-in’ it up for no damn reason.” I shake my head. “I feel like bustin’ you in your motherfuckin’ face.”
When I caught her ass in that stairwell down on her knees she told me that was her first time doin’ it. But I saw the way she bobbed her head back and forth over that motherfucka’s cock. She was suckin’ his dick like she had a degree in cock suckin’. And now her ass is fuckin’ like a pornstar. Mmmph.
“Get your ass up. You’re gettin’ the Depo shot. You can get AIDS. And you can get herpes, and any other STD out there if you want. But the one thing you won’t do is get pregnant; not on my watch, boo. When you turn eighteen you can have all the babies you want. But until then, every three months you and I got a date down at the clinic to get that damn shot. And you better hope I don’t decide to shove an IUD up in your nasty ass, too. Now get up.”
She sucks her teeth, gettin’ out of bed. She snatches the EPT box up, stomping toward the door. I follow behind her. Tell her to use the bathroom in my bedroom. Tell her that she is to keep the door open while I watch her piss. She doesn’t like that. But I don’t give a fuck. “You can stomp all you want. But you better hope that test comes back negative, or you will be stomped down.”
Twenty-Nine
I eye Chunky Monkey—well, his name is really Christian, Chris for short—up in the deejay’s booth. Oooh, his ass is too fine for his own damn good. Light-skinned with fine silky hair that he always wears in a ponytail. Nice smooth skin, perfectly straight, white teeth. And he has beautiful green eyes. Oooh, and you know he done made himself a buncha pretty babies, too. Mmmph. Yes, Lawd! His nasty ass has about fifteen—no, excuse me, sixteen, damn kids by three different hoes. And two of ’em are hot ghetto trash. But you know I ain’t one for slingin’ shit up on anyone, so I’m not gonna say no more about them hoes; other than they love them some six feet tall, lil’ dick Chris. Mmmph, and I know for a fact that—him havin’ a lil’ itty-bitty, short dingaling—is true since I jerked it off up in the deejay booth a few years ago. That fine niggah is all balls, and no damn dingdong. Oh, it’s tragic! But he’s so fuckin’ sexy to look at. So I talked real dirty in his ear and let him finger-fuck me in my ass while I jacked him off with a smile.
Anyway . . . the niggahs in the streets call his sexy-ass Chunky Monkey, and not ’cause he’s all fat and nasty with it. Shit, the niggah’s body is all that. But the reason they call him Chunky Monkey is ’cause anytime you see him he’s eatin’ a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. Or he’s somewhere smearin’ it on some pussy and lickin’ it off ’cause the niggah loves eatin’ pussy. And I know that to be true, too, since I let him chunky my monkey with his long tongue twice. And oooh, he did Big Booty right, goddammit!
But that’s beside the point. Saturday night is his night to spin the beats at The Crack House. And it’s instrumental night. And his ass always serves it up right, okay. He catches my eye and grins, givin’ me the thumbs up. And I roll my eyes, givin’ him the finger, like I do Slick every time he’s up in the booth. Chunky gets on my damn nerves with
his pretty-faced self. He and Slick are always tryna set me off on the dance floor. Sexy-ass fuckers!
He laughs, then gets on the mic and says, “Aiight, Cass. I see you, baby. Lookin’ good, ma-ma . . . ”
Mmmph. Long Pocahontas braid swayin’ past my ass. Chinese bangs sweepin’ my forehead. Diamond hoops blingin’ in my ears. Python Birkin bag in the crook of my arm. Six-inch black Louie heels on my feet. Sexy black dress with the back cut-out and thigh-high split on both sides, showin’ off my thighs, smooth back and ass crack. I can give you a mouthful of nice titties, but it’s my greatest asset that does ’em all in. Ass ’n hips. Pow, Pow! Who shot ya? Big Booty, sugah boo! So you damn right I’m lookin’ damn good. No, motherfuckin’ damn good!
Shit, I hate to say it. But I really am that diva-bitch, sugah-boo. Even with my section-8 and EBT card havin’ self, I stay sponsored up. I’ma hood celebrity, sweetie. When I step through the door they roll out the red carpet. And everyone up in this bitch knows Big Booty likes to bring it, serve it, do it up right, goddammit!
“That’s right, sexy ma-ma, I see you,” Chunky says, grinnin’ as if he can read my thoughts. “We all know how you do it down here at The Crack House, baby, so I’ma ’bout to turn it up real quick; just for you.”
I wave him on as Rick Ross’s “9 Piece” starts blastin’ through the speakers. Fuck a damn nine-piece. Give me a nine-inch—long and hard, and I’m good. I strut over toward the bar, iggin’ the few niggahs tryna get my attention. Ain’t no need to be eyein’ me ’cause I’m not doin’ ’em unless they buyin’ drinks, or they one of my sponsors. Otherwise, I ain’t got nothin’ for none of ’em. Not tonight.
But I do stop and talk to a few of Darius’ boys, with their fine, fuckable selves. It’s three of ’em sittin’ at one of the tables near the door, poppin’ bottles of champagne. I can see it in their eyes that they’re all blazed ’n bubbled up real nice from blunts and bubbly. “Damn, Miss Simms, you stay lookin’ fly; for real for real,” the one everyone calls Scooter says. He’s tall—exactly how I like, maybe six-three, thin and chiseled. And you know what they say about them thin, boney-ass niggahs, don’t you? Mmmph. They all dick, shugah. And so far I ain’t been wrong yet.
I eye him. “Scooter, boo. I’ma always keep my sexy on high, baby. I’m too damn fly not to.”
I see the lust in his eyes. “I heard that. And you doin’ it, ma-ma.”
Beyoncé’s “Ego” starts playin’ and before I know it, I’m swayin’ side to side to the tempo, then droppin’ down low and poppin’ it back up. Shit, I have a lot to celebrate. Day’Asia’s ass ain’t pregnant. And hopefully she ain’t got AIDS. But, her pussy’s all crusty ’cause she gotta bad yeast infection. Mmmph. Whatever. Ain’t my pussy. I told her stank-ass to take them pills and keep her goddamn legs shut.
I twirl it a taste, then two-step and finger pop it. All three of these niggahs got they eyes locked on my body. Scooter slowly licks his lips, makin’ my pussy clench. He knows he’s some kinda sexy with his rugged, tatted-up self.
Oooh, I gotta hurry up and get away from this niggah before I forget I’ma lady and give his ass a lap dance up in this bitch.
“Look, let me get movin’ along. I’m tryna keep it classy tonight. And I ain’t about to have none of you fine-ass niggahs sidetrack me and have me out here turnin’ up the ho-meter.”
They laugh. Tell me I’m shot out. But that doesn’t stop any of them horny niggahs from eye-fuckin’ me. I know, and they know, I could fuck every last one of ’em—down, if I wanted. I turn to leave and can feel their eyes bouncin’ up ’n down like lil’ ping pong balls tryna keep up with the shake in my ass.
Chunky, I mean Chris, plays Lil’ Wayne’s “6 Foot 7 Foot” as I hoist my ass up on an empty barstool and bop to the beat. Big Mike comes over, smilin’. “Wassup, Cass? What can I get you tonight?” I ask him what tonight’s specials are. He tells me Wet Drawz and Dirty Drawz.
I frown at the thought of tossin’ back a pair of dirty draws. And I know there’s a few hoes up in here wearin’ a pair of cum-crusty, pussy-juiced drawers right now tryna be cute; just like Day’Asia’s ass. Stink bitches!
“What’s in those Wet Drawz?”
“Absolut Peach Vodka, Peach Schnapps, and a splash of grenadine syrup, shaken then poured over ice.”
I smack my lips. “Ooh, that sounds tasty. Let me try one of them Wet Drawz, then. And hopefully by the end of the night, my drawers will be wet, too.”
He laughs, shakin’ his head. “Yo, Cass, you somethin’ else, ma-ma.”
“I know I am. Now hurry up and bring me my drink so I can wet my throat.”
“I got you,” he says before walkin’ off to handle thangs behind the bar.
I decide to hit the bathroom real quick to make sure all things are in place. Face, hair, waist and ass. I sashay my hips into the four-stall bathroom. Give myself a once-over, then blow myself a kiss. Oooh, I’m so sizzlin’ hot. I can’t stand the heat! I fuss with my bangs, then apply a coat of gloss up on my cherry-painted lips. I like to keep my lips sweet ’n juicy at all times.
I step outta the bathroom and start headin’ back toward the bar when someone grabs me by the arm. “Aye, yo. What’s good wit’ you? You lookin’ damn sexy tonight.”
I yank my arm back, and black, “Niggah, do I know you? Did I suck your dick? Did I fuck you? Hell no! So don’t put ya goddamn hands on me.”
He puts his hands up. “Aiight, aiight . . . my bad. I ain’t mean no harm, ma.”
“And you don’t mean me no good either, lil’ niggah.”
“Yo, I’m not tryna disrupt ya night. I only wanted to say wassup to you.”
“Then say ‘wassup’, but don’t touch me ’cause you were about to have me turn the gas up in here, niggah, comin’ at me like that. I was about to take a torch to ya ass.”
“Oh, nah, nah . . . it ain’t that serious. I don’t want no problems, ma. I spotted you when you walked through the door and wanted to holla at you, that’s all. Let me buy you a drink.”
I eye him up and down, tiltin’ my head. Pink Polo shirt, baggy jeans, crisp white Louie V sneaks. Dreds done up right. Oooh, and the niggah got the nerve to be lookin’ real tasty in his pink.
I decide to lower the gas a taste, since I wanna know more about this niggah. “AJ, right?”
He grins. “Oh, you remembered. That’s wassup.”
“Niggah, puhleeze, don’t go bustin’ a nut over it.”
He laughs. “Nah, never that.”
I twist my lips up. “Uh-huh, that’s what your mouth says, lil’ boo.”
“And that’s what it is. And for the record, ma, e’erything on me ain’t little.”
“Prove it. I don’t usually fuck short niggahs but tonight might be ya lucky night.”
He grins. “And it’ll be a night you’ll never forget, ma. I fuck hard, believe that.”
“And you probably nut quick, too.”
He laughs “Nah, but I nut a lot.”
Oooh, this lil’ niggah real cocky with it. I step into him, then lean in and brush my glossy lips against his ear. “Niggah, I. Will. Fuck. The. Shit. Outta. You.” I flick my tongue, then whisper my number into his ear. “I’m gonna give you a chance to prove ya’self. Make sure you have ya dollars up, niggah.”
He grins. “Yeah, aiight. I got you.”
I get ready to open my mouth to tell him to pull his dick out and let me see it since he wanna talk so much shit. But I see Jasper and Stax headin’ this way and decide to let it go.
Whew, Stax is dipped and rolled in sexiness. Yes, Lawd, Big Booty wanna do him right. But I know the niggah has eyes for Miss Pasha on the low, so I’m not even gonna waste my time fantasizin’ ’bout havin’ his dingaling stuffed in my holes.
Stax smiles at me. Oooh, this fine niggah better be glad I ain’t real messy ’cause I’d lean in and tell his ass if he doesn’t give me some of that dingdong that I’ma tell Jasper how he stays eye-fuckin’ his wife.
“What’s g
ood, Cass?” he says to me, steppin’ up and givin’ me a hug. “I see you keepin’ it sexy as always.”
“I sure am,” I coo, runnin’ my hand over his rock-hard chest, although that’s not really where I want my hand to be. Shit, Big Booty wants to run her hand between his legs and grab his dingdong and cup them balls. But, I ain’t tryna play myself like some thirsty slut. Now I might toss back a few gin ’n juices every now and again, but slut-juice ain’t ever on the drink list.
I lick my lips. “And you’d know how good I was if you stopped playin’ games, Stax, and get with the program.”
He laughs, releasin’ me from his hug. “Yo, Cass, real shit, baby. You a real trip.”
I peep Jasper and the AJ niggah choppin’ it up, givin’ each other dap. Then catch Jasper whisper some shit into his ear. Bells and lights start goin’ off in my head. Mmmhmm, Jasper’s no-good ass got this niggah pushin’ weight, I bet.
Jasper eyes me. “Aye, yo, wassup, Cass?”
I look him up and down, then sweep my bangs across my forehead. “You tell me. Where’s Pasha?” He tells me she’s home where she’s supposed to be. I blink, twistin’ my lips up. “Mmmph. Poor thing. Well, look. It’s been cute, but I need to bounce it back on over to the bar ’cause all this chit-chat is startin’ to cut into my drink time. Y’all niggahs do what you do.” I shoot a look over at Sneaky Ass. “And I still want that drink, niggah.”
He laughs. “I got you. And I still want what we talked about.”
“Niggah, puhleeze,” I say over my shoulder, catchin’ all three of them with their eyes locked on my ass. “You wish.”
Chunky starts playin’ “Ether” by Nas and I’m too through. Now this niggah knows I’m ’posed to have my tank full before he starts doin’ me. I put a hand up on my hip, then bounce and sway to the beat, just a taste ’cause my tank’s on E and I’m still tryna keep it hood classy. But, damn him! I love me some instrumental night down at The Crack House. Yes, Lawd! They do me right!