Big Booty

by Cairo

  I kiss his lips, then his neck, then lick down his chest, over his nipples, then slide my way down to his abs, slowly strokin’ his dick. It starts to come alive. I lick it.

  He moans.

  I glance up at him, then suck him down to the base, wet it up with a buncha spit, then climb up on top of him and grind my pussy all over his dingaling. Oooh, I am so wet ’n slippery.

  He reaches for my titties, pinches my nipples. I lean in and whisper in his ear, “I need you to handle somethin’ for me, boo.”

  I reach back and slip the head of his dick into my asshole.

  “Aaaah, shit . . . mmmm . . . anything you want, ma . . . I got you.”

  I grin, slowly rockin’ ’n rollin’ my hips all the way down on his dingaling. “Fuck me deep in my ass, first. Then I’ll tell you what else I need, later.”

  Once I am all the way down on him, I slowly lift up, then speed fuck up and down on his dick; my ass clappin’ ’n ’bouncin’ with every stroke.

  He closes his eyes. “Aaah, shiiiiiit . . . ”

  I smile. Oooh, we gonna do these niggahs real good.

  Forty-One

  “You ready to crank it up?” I ask, shiftin’ my cell from one ear to the other as I’m walkin’ outta BJ’s over in Linden, pushin’ the shoppin’ cart toward my truck. I done spent over three hundred dollars in groceries this mornin’. I tell you, thank Gawd for EBT cards; otherwise I’d have to spend my own money.

  “I am more than ready. It’s time.”

  I grin, disarmin’ the alarm. I open the back door and start puttin’ the groceries in. “Yessss, it is, goddammit. And I have that list for you, too. Signed, sealed and ready to be delivered.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Ooooh, they ain’t gonna know what hit ’em.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for,” the caller on the other end says.

  “Good. I have everything all lined up.”

  “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  “Oh, trust me. If all goes as planned, you’ll have more than enough money to do so.”

  “You know it’s gonna get messy.”

  “Ooh, but I live for this kinda messy,” I say. “These bitches gotta get it.”

  “Then let the games begin.”

  “Let ’em, boo.”

  I disconnect. Two minutes later, my cell rings again. I glance at it. It’s Vernon. “What, niggah?”

  “Yo, I wanna see you.”

  I frown. “See me for what?”

  “Yo, what you think?”

  “Uhh, I think ya ass is crazy, that’s what the fuck I think. I know you ain’t callin’ me tryna get some’a this pussy, ass, or throat and ya black ass don’t even keep up with ya child support payments. So let me spell it out for you: No, motherfucka, I ain’t fuckin’ you. You can see ya sons, but that’s it.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I know you still love me, Cass.”

  I laugh, shuttin’ the door, then pushin’ the cart over to the side. “Niggah, I ain’t never love you. I loved the dingaling, boo.”

  “Yeah aiight. Tell me you don’t miss all’a this dick, Cass? I want some pussy, Cass.”

  I slide into my truck. “Well, that’s too goddamn bad. Where’s that flat-back, ugly bitch of yours?”

  “Fuck if I know. We beefin’. I ain’t feelin’ her no more.”

  “Oh, I get it. She done put ya sorry ass out and now you wanna try ’n leech ya way up on me, huh?”

  “Cass, I ain’t gotta leech off’a you, baby. I already gotta ’nother spot I’m at. So I’m good. I just wanna see you. I miss you, yo.”

  I turn my lips up in disgust.

  “Vernon, you been drinkin’, niggah?”

  “Yeah, a lil’ sumthin’. I had a few shots.”

  I glance at the time, backin’ outta the parkin’ space, then headin’ outta the lot toward Route 9. “Niggah, it ain’t even eleven o’clock and ya ass already tossin’ back yak. Mmmph. You fuckin’ pathetic.”

  I hear him blowin’ into the air and know the niggah’s blazin’. “I ain’t tryna hear all that, Cass.” He grunts. “I wanna fuck.”

  I frown. “Niggah, I know you ain’t playin’ with ya dick, is you?”

  “Yeah, a lil’ sumthin’. I wanna see you. I wanna put this dick inside’a you, baby. Beat that pussy up real good.”

  “Niggah-coon, boom! You can beat ya’self to death, then go bury ya’self and see the inside of the grave. I’m done fuckin’ you, Vernon.” He wants to know why we ain’t work out. “Niggah, that ain’t no mystery. ’Cause you ain’t shit. You don’t wanna hold down a job, ya ass ain’t got good credit, and you don’t take care of ya goddamn kids.”

  “Fuck outta here. I take care of all’a my kids, Cass. It ain’t always about money. I spend time wit’ ’em. That’s more than I can say for some niggahs wit’ kids who they ain’t beat for. Least I wanna be in my kids’ lives, even if I can’t always give money. But yo. You gotta lotta nerve, yo. What shit you got?”

  “Niggah, what you mean, what shit I got? I gotta truck, a house, and my GED, niggah.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, a truck some niggah bought ya ass ’cause it ain’t some shit you could ever afford on ya own, and a house you rentin’. You on section-eight actin’ like you doin’ it big. How ’bout you buy ya own shit. Own ya own spot, then pop shit. And, yeah, you got ya GED. Good for you, baby. But, you ain’t doin’ shit wit’ it.”

  “Niggah, you crazy. I ain’t gotta do shit with it. The fact is, I have it. And what the fuck I wanna own a house for? I ain’t tryna lose my section-8. You dumb as hell.”

  “Yo, whatever. Let me get some pussy, Cass.”

  “Uhhh, how about this: Let me give you the dial tone.” I end the call. Another call comes through. It’s Da’Quan “Hey, boo.”

  “Wasssup, Ma. You aiight?” I tell him yes. “I got the money you sent me. Thanks. It came right on time.” I tell him as long as he does well in school, I’ma make sure he gets that gee a month. But if those grades drop to C’s or he fails a class or flunks outta school, then he’s on his goddamn own. “Ma, c’mon. You ain’t raise no dummy. I got this.”

  “And I ain’t give birth to no ugly niggahs either.”

  He laughs. “Yo, Ma, you shot out. You got all my boys here on you hard. They stay all up on my Facebook page starin’ at ya flicks.”

  I laugh with him. “Mmmph, well, I can’t help it if ya momma gotta lotta back and good black don’t crack. I was wonderin’ why I kept gettin’ all them friend requests from Howard niggahs. But you know I ain’t accept ’em. Well, I can’t even if I wanted to ’cause I got too many friends up on there already. So they gonna have’ta subscribe to my page.” He keeps laughin’, callin’ me a hood celebrity. I don’t tell him that his boys are all followin’ me on Twitter and Instagram. Big Booty got them followers, boo.

  “Ma, when you comin’ down here to see me?” Although I know I told him the last time he called that I’d be down there in a few weeks with his brothers, I keep gettin’ sidetrack with other shit. I tell him I’ll definitely be there one weekend next month. “Aiight, cool. But I wanna come home for da weekend. I spoke to Darius last night and told him to make sure he keeps his eyes out.”

  “Why? You know he still ain’t talkin’ to me. And that niggah know he ain’t ’posed to go this long without speakin’ to me. I can see a few days or even a week, but two weeks is ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, I know. But he’ll get over it, like we all do. Still, you could call him.”

  “I did. And he ain’t return my calls. And you know I don’t do no beggin’.”

  He sighs. “Ma, you still should apologize. You and Day’Asia was dead wrong.”

  I frown. “Oh, so now you tryna do me, too, huh, Da’Quan? Darius had no goddamn business punchin’ his sister out like that. I don’t give a fuck if she was lumpin’ him up. You don’t do that. And now you wanna defend him. Niggah, boom! You wanna bring it, too, huh?”

  “Aiight, Ma, chill
. Ain’t nobody tryna bring nuthin’. I’m sayin’. But, whatever. That’s y’alls shit. All I care about is if you aiight. I got at Big Mike and told him to keep an eye on you, too.”

  I blink. “Boy, you actin’ like somebody done sent you my death notice.”

  “Ma, real shit. I keep thinkin’ sumthin’s gonna pop off and you gonna get hurt; that’s all. I want you to chill for a while. Don’t be hangin’ down at the bars so much wit’ all them niggahs, aiight? And don’t start frownin’ ya face. Do it for me, Ma.”

  I smile, suckin’ my teeth. “Niggah, puhleeze. I ain’t frownin’.” Of course it’s a lie and he knows it. Still, I ain’t gonna front. Hearin’ Da’Quan talkin’ like this kinda got me worried ’cause this boy don’t never call tryna do me. But I play it off. “Boy, stop. Ain’t nothin’ bad gonna happen to me and niggahs on the streets not gonna handle it. You know I got a team of goons always on alert, and always ready. All I gotta do is press the panic button and it’ll be fireworks all through the streets and you know it.”

  “Yeah, I know, Ma. Still . . . I’ma come home this weekend to see for myself. Maybe I should transfer to a school closer to home.” I tell him no. Tell him to keep his ass right where he is. That I don’t wanna hear that shit. I promise to go see him in two weeks instead of next month as long as he keeps his ass there. He sighs. “Aiight, Ma. But if you ain’t here in two weeks, I’m comin’ home. I’m too far away to keep an eye on thangs.”

  “Boy, that’s what Darius and Jah—well when his ass ain’t in the county—are here for. You worry about finishin’ college. Let ya brothers worry about the streets, boo. And you know ya momma can handle herself. I’ma Brick City bitch, and you know we don’t take no shit.”

  He laughs. “Yo, Ma, you shot out; for real for real.”

  “Yeah, niggah, I know. Listen, boo. You and Marquelle gonna be somethin’ great one day, you hear me? Hell, y’all already are. And I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to me so I can’t see my babies graduate. You my first baby to go away to college, and Marquelle gonna be my second. I ain’t missin’ that for shit. Dead or alive, ya momma’s gonna be there with tears in her eyes. Oh, and a new handbag and goddam bangin’ heels ’cause I’ma serve ’em up right when I step up in there, goddammit. Yes, boo, I’ma do ’em up right. Now get on up off this phone.”

  He tells me how much he loves me and appreciates me. And I know he does. I know all my boys do. Mmmph. It’s that damn Day’Asia who don’t ever appreciate shit. She ain’t been tryin’ me lately, but I’m ready for her ass when she does. But I ain’t goin’ there ’cause then I’ma get pissed and wanna fight her ass again.

  We talk a few minutes more, then disconnect. I take a deep breath, then slowly exhale. He got me thinkin’ now. What if someone does try ’n do me. Hatin’ ass bitches are scandalous. And ain’t no tellin’ what a nutty-ass niggah might do. I feel a tightness in my chest.

  I call him back. “Boo, if somethin’ does happen to me I want you to make sure you finish school no matter what. I want you to sell all my handbags, heels, jewels—oh and my minks. I don’t want Day’Asia slidin’ her stank-ass in my shit ’cause she ain’t ready for no high-end wears. You can do whatever you want with the money, okay?”

  He is quiet on the other end.

  “Da’Quan?”

  “I’m here. Ma, you talkin’ like you know sumthin’ is gonna pop off. What’s good? Is there sumthin’ you ain’t sayin’?”

  “No. All I’m sayin’ is, that I wanna be prepared. You got me thinkin’, that’s all. Shit, I know I live on the edge. Big Boo . . . I mean, ya momma likes to have a good damn time. And I ain’t ’bout to change who I am for no one. That’s not to say that I might not cut back on the drinks or goin’ down to The Crack House. But I ain’t about to stop poppin’ ’n droppin’ it from time to time. Shit, haters gonna be haters whether I’m out or not. So fuck ’em, boo. But if somethin’ does ever happen to me, then I want you to be prepared. Darius and Jah will probably start wildin’, but you’ll make sure shit gets handled. I wanna make sure you know how’ta lay me out right.”

  He sighs. “Ma, I ain’t tryna hear all this right now.”

  “No, niggah, you gonna hear it. You the one always worryin’ about somethin’ happenin’ to me so you need to be the one to hear it. When Beulah died ain’t nobody tell me shit about layin’ her out. I just tossed her ass in a box, then went on my merry way. But I don’t wanna be buried like that. I want you to do me right, goddammit. You hear me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I don’t wanna buncha tears ’n shit, either.” I tell him I want my casket carried in one of them glass hearse carriages pulled by two white horses. And I want him to have a big block party in the hood and have Chunky and Slick deejay. “I want them to play all of my Crack House classics and I want Big Mike to work the drinks. And make sure he makes a special drink in my honor. Big Booty. I want e’eryone at my funeral drinkin’ me, goddammit.”

  “Aiight, Ma,” he says, soundin’ uncomfortable hearin’ all this. Oh, well. He’s the one who got it crunked. “You done?” I tell his ass no. Tell him I don’t wanna be in my casket on my back, face up. That I wanna be on my stomach, ass up.

  “I want my ass the only thing niggahs ’n bitches see when they walk by to pay their respects. And I wanna sign that reads, Eat my Phat Ass carved in black marble.”

  He cracks up laughin’.

  “Boo, I ain’t laughin’. This shit ain’t funny. You need to be writin’ this shit down. Do me right, Da’Quan, or I’ma haunt ya black ass for the rest of ya life. And you know I will.”

  “Aiight, aiight, Ma. Enough already. You made ya point. I got you.”

  “Mmmph. Well, I’m makin’ sure. Niggahs don’t wanna talk about this kinda shit ’til it’s too late. I want you ready, boo.” I tell him where I keep my hidden stash. Then I tell him about the million-dollar insurance policy I have. The one I pay on every month, faithfully. I take good goddam care of my kids while I’m alive. And I want them taken care of if somethin’ happens to me. “But you make sure you put the twins money in one of them trust-thingys ’cause them lil’niggahs might drink and smoke they shit up or be out trickin’ my money up at the titty bars.”

  He keeps crackin’ up. “Yo, Ma, you wildin’, for real.”

  “I ain’t laughin’. And I only want Day’Asia’s ass to get five-hundred dollars a month allowance. That ho gonna need to learn how to get out there and make her own paper ’cause I ain’t about to sponsor no triflin’-ass broad. She don’t respect the power of a dollar. And she don’t get shit if her ass flunks outta school. I def ain’t sponsorin’ no retarded bitch who’s too dumb to at least finish high school.”

  “Ma, aiight. You done?”

  “No. One more thing.”

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Ma.”

  “Niggah, I know you do. But don’t have me fuck you up.”

  He laughs. Makes sure I’m definitely comin’ to see him in two weeks. I promise him I am. And I will. We disconnect. And this time when I pull in a deep breath, I ain’t feelin’ so heavy in my chest. I exhale. No matter what might or might not pop off, Big Booty done lived a good life, goddammit. I done had me some damn good dingaling, been fucked deep in my ass, and have squirted out some damn good pussy cream. I ain’t got shit to complain about.

  I reach for my cell and call Darius. I ain’t surprised when he doesn’t answer. That niggah’s stubborn like that. I don’t know where he got that shit from, but it ain’t cute. I leave a message. “Boo, I know you still pissed at me. But I’m ya mom and we been through too much together, so I know you ain’t gonna stay mad at me forever. I love you, niggah-boo. Call me when you ready to talk. And tell that bald-headed bitch of yours I’ma fuck her up ’cause I know she’s the one who got you iggin’ ya calls from me this damn long. I promise you. I’ma tear her ass up, Darius. I mean it, goddammit. I’ma do her face in real good. Call me, boo.”
>
  I hang up, then call back. “Okay, niggah. I’ma keep it classy and apologize for jumpin’ on yo’ ass like that. But you ain’t have no goddamn business jumpin’ in me and Day’Asia’s fight like that. And you ain’t have no business punchin’ her out like she was some niggah on the street. You her brotha, you not ever supposed to put ya hands on her like that. I’m the one who pushed her outta my cootie-coo so if I kill her or beat her ass into the ground, then that’s on me. I can ’cause she’s my child. Anyway, if you don’t call, then you don’t. Shit, I ain’t gonna be holdin’ my breath for ya black ass to do me right. But you know I love you. Always have, always will, niggah.”

  I disconnect, then head into the kitchen to get dinner started.

  Forty-Two

  “Heeeey, Miss Pasha, girl,” I say, walkin’ toward her workstation. Thankfully, it’s a not too crowded up in here. She has one of her regulars sittin’ up in the chair. I ain’t seen her since the weddin’ either. But I can’t think of her name right now. I only know her from here but, every time I see her, she’s always lookin’ cute in her wears. “You think you can squeeze me in today? I need to be done up right for this school meetin’ tomorrow.”

  Miss Pasha is servin’ me hair and face. She done tapered the back and sides of her hair real close and has the front swept across her forehead and the ends are pointed to perfection. She has her luscious lips coated in pink lipstick and has her long lashes thick ’n curled. Oooh, she’s doin’ me good. Now I ain’t no pussy licker, but Miss Pasha could get this ass plopped up on her forehead while she workin’ them lips all over my pussy. Mmmph.

  “I have two cancellations,” she says, turnin’ Miss Cute around in her chair. “So if you can hang around I can take you as soon as I finish up with my next client.”

  “Oooh, that sounds good. Where’s Miss FeFe today?” She tells me she’s runnin’ late just as Miss Messy’s walkin’ through the door with Jasper and Stax right behind her. I eye Miss Pasha. “Oh, here she is now. And ya man.”