by Cairo
Dear Reader:
It is once again my pleasure to present a novel by Cairo, one of the latest and hottest editions to the Strebor Books family. His first book, The Kat Trap, was so intriguing that it became an instant classic. His follow-up, The Man Handler, was equally a classic; both featured female lead characters. Now Cairo delivers a novel depicting the lifestyle of a womanizer.
Alexander Maples, aka Daddy Long Stroke, is a sex-crazed gigolo who has an insatiable desire to bed down as many women as possible. The story is told in raw, gritty language as we discover what whets the appetite of this outrageous character who seeks satisfaction from women coast to coast. Daddy Long Stroke successfully lures females into his tricky web not considering the pain and heartache it causes.
Hopefully, after you read this book, you will walk away analyzing your own sexual behavior, the decisions that you make in the name of love and lust, and how everything has its consequences. Cairo has once again penned a wonderful novel and we are all highly anticipating his future works. Stay tuned for his next adventure, Deep Throat Diva.
Thanks for supporting the authors in the Strebor family and for the continuous love and support that you have shown me over the past decade. I love and appreciate each and every one of you. To find me on the web, please go to eroticanoir.com or my social networking site at planetzane.org. You can find me on Twitter as PlanetZane, on Facebook as Zane Strebor and on Myspace as Zaneland.
Blessings,
Zane
Publisher
Strebor Books International
www.simonandschuster.com/streborbooks
ALSO BY CAIRO
The Manhandler
The Kat Trap
Strebor Books
P.O. Box 6505
Largo, MD 20792
http://www.streborbooks.com
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2010 by Cairo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.
ISBN 978-1-59309-278-8
LCCN 2010925105
eISBN-13: 978-1-43916-305-4
First Strebor Books trade paperback edition August 2010
Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com
Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Manufactured in the United States of America
For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected]
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the women who crave thick chocolate,
and the bad boys who serve it.
Open wide…this one’s for you!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With each passing day, I remain encouraged, determined and steadfast. I am progressing, evolving, growing, and learning to be better than the day before. I owe all that I am to the One who continues to guide me along my journey. I am truly blessed!
To all those who continue to believe in me, thank you for the never-ending love, support and encouragement.
To the growing fans, thank you, thank you, thank you! Please continue to spread the word. And be on the lookout for Deep Throat Diva coming at ya in 2011!
To all the reviewers, I appreciate all of your feedback/comments: good, bad and/or indifferent.
To the sexually liberated and the open-minded, I hope you get pleasure from reading Daddy Long Stroke just as much as I took pleasure in writing it. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride!
One luv—
Cairo
1
Damn, I love eatin’ pussy! ’Specially when a broad got that sweet ’n tangy, saucy-type pussy that sticks on the tip of my tongue. Or that juicy, gushy, peach-type pussy that squirts into my mouth, then drips down my chin as I slurp it all up. Man, listen…there’s nuthin’ like havin’ a chick squattin’ up over my face, sittin’ her pussy down on this long tongue, or havin’ her on her back wit’ her legs up over my shoulders and my face buried deep between them smooth thighs while I’m tongue-drillin’ her. Or havin’ her bent over a chair wit’ her ass spread open and my tongue deep-strokin’ her from her asshole to the back of her slit—while I’m beatin’ my dick, or got her throatin’ it.
Mmmph, mmmph, mmmph…I love the way it tastes, and smells—well, provided the ho isn’t a walkin’ fish market, smellin’ like sewage, or leakin’ a buncha shit that looks like snot or cottage cheese, feel me? A smelly bitch, forget it…no tongue, no dick, nada—it’s a muthafuckin’ wrap! But a chick who keeps that box right…mmmph, man, listen…finger-lickin’ good! There’s nuthin’ more intoxicatin’ than the savorin’ scent of a clean, excited pussy oozin’ wit’ hot, sticky juices. Gotdaaaaamn, talkin’ ’bout gobblin’ up a pussy got my dick bricked like a muhfucka, word up. And, on some real shit, I love eatin’ it almost as much as I love fuckin’ it.
See. Pussy eatin’ is an art. It’s like paintin’ the perfect portrait, feel me? It’s all in the brushstroke—or, in this case, the tongue-stroke. See, it’s all ’bout technique. When a muhfucka like me has his head between a bitch’s legs, I’m puttin’ in work. I’m aimin’ to bring her the greatest, most intense orgasm she’s ever experienced. And I do it by usin’ my mouth, tongue and fingers—simultaneously and alternately. The first ten minutes, or so, I’m teasin’ her. I’m kissin’ and lickin’ her hips, her legs, her inner thighs. Then I slowly begin lickin’ her pussy lips—right side, left side…mmmph, damn. Then I lick her clit, flickin’ it wit’ my wet, long tongue before circlin’ my tongue ’round the edges of her asshole. Seein’ that sweet brown eye pucker up in excitement turns me the fuck on, word up. And the more turned on I am, the more turned on she’s gonna be.
Fuck what ya heard. Tongue-fuckin’ is sumthin’ a muhfucka should take pride in when doin’ it. Just like I expect a broad to handle this dick like she loves it, I expect the same shit from myself when it comes to eatin’ her pussy. I make love to that shit wit’ my mouth, lips, and tongue, eatin’ it like there’s a chocolate-covered cherry stuck dead in the center of her pussy. And the only way to get to that sweet muhfucka is by mountin’ ya wet mouth ’round it, then plungin’ ya tongue deep in it, lickin’, lappin’ stickin’, and flickin’ that hole ’til she starts buckin’ them hips up. See. A nigga like me is a greedy pussy eater, real talk. I ain’t tryna stop ’til a bitch’s walls start to shake, her asshole starts to ache, and she’s chantin’ to a higher power. That’s when I slowly slip these big-ass fingers in her, swirlin’ ’em ’round the inside of her cunt, pressin’ up on that G-spot while I’m suckin’ on her clit. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ma make sure she gets hers. And when her breath quickens, her body quivers, and her moans escalate, I start wildin’ out on the pussy—suckin’ and lickin’ her clit like a frantic, crazed-ass muhfucka ’til she nuts all over my tongue, hard. Then I ease up over top of her, slip my tongue in her mouth so she can taste her creamy juice on it, while I’m slidin’ this dick up in her. And by the time I’m done slayin’ her wit’ this wood, nine-times-outta ten, the bitch done forgot her name and address, done tossed me the keys to her whip, or done begged me to move in. So be clear. If a muhfucka like me is tongue-fuckin’ you, you best
believe it’s ’cause you either got sumthin’ I want, there’s sumthin’ I need for you to do, or there’s sumthin’ I know I’ma get from you in the future. Otherwise, no extras are comin’ at ya. I’m straight-dickin’ you and that’s it.
So, to my niggas who eat pussy: keep ya tongues wet, playas. And to those lame cats who act like they scared to taste the pussy, or who can’t eat no pussy: You’se some whack-ass muhfuckas, word up! Get ya minds right, my niggas, and step ya tongue game up ’fore another muhfucka takes ya spot, real talk.
Nah, hol’ up! I ain’t sayin’ e’ery ho deserves to have her pussy eaten ’cause some of these broads out here are straight nasty. That’s why a muhfucka gotta use some discretion. But for the ones who keep that pussy lookin’ right and feelin’ right, a muhfucka gotta learn to let it do what it do, feel me? ’Cause trust me. I’ve had plenty of bitches drop major paper, or lace a muhfucka wit’ some wears, after I done served ’em a night of tongue lickin’, followed up wit’ a pussy beatdown wit’ this long-ass dick.
Like this trick I got holed up in my room right now. Shakeeta’s her name; a brown-skinned cutie from Irvington—wit’ a lil’ waist and one hundred and forty pounds of ass ’n titties. And, of course, she’s a ho I met offa Myspace. We been fuckin’ off and on for ’bout three months now, and she’s already sucked down my dick and swallowed my nut ’bout eight times. And I’ve fucked her ’bout three. Now, she’s actin’ like she’s in love wit’ a muhfucka. But tonight’s the first time I’m givin’ her this tongue treatment. And the only reason she’s gettin’ it now is ’cause she laced a muhfucka wit’ four pairs of 7 For All Mankind jeans and two pair of Gucci loafers for my birthday. Well, it ain’t my actual born day, but she doesn’t know that shit. Yo, relax. Sit tight. I’ll explain later.
Shit, hol’ up…let me introduce myself to ya’ll, first, before I start suckin’ the nut outta this broad’s fuck-box. Aiight, check it. I’ma six-foot-four, 215-pound—lean and solid, for the record— slightly bow-legged cat with dark-brown eyes, thick full lips, a chiseled chest, strong muscular back, and big hands. My government name is Alexander Maples. But my mans ’n ’em call me Alley Cat, ’cause a nigga like me is always prowlin’ ’round for some new pussy. However, on some real shit, I shoulda been named Hershey ’cause I’ma dark-chocolate nigga that melts in ya mouth and all up in ya guts. Yeah, that’s right. I’m ya sweetest, most dangerous addiction. And I’m here to feed ya cravin’s—one stroke, one slurp, at a muthafuckin’ time.
So I’ma let you know from the gate. I’m the type a cat who loves to fuck—all day, e’eryday. Just like the U.S. Postal Service, I’m always ready to deliver. Rain, snow or sleet—I don’t care if it’s in ya face, ya mouth, or ya muthafuckin’ ass—I’m ready to skeet. That’s not to say that e’ery chick I get at is willin’ to give up the pussy after seein’ all this beef hangin’. ’Cause eight outta ten times, the ho’s gonna run scared. But, for the hoes who do try, it definitely doesn’t mean that they can actually handle all this dick. It only means they done bit off more dick than they can chew—or fuck, I should say. So they usually grin ’n bear, beg ’n pray, or cry ’n scream, hopin’ their well-fucked, overstretched pussies snap back for them average-dicked niggas they fuck wit’.
However, for those ambitious freaks wit’ them bottomless, unlatchable pussies, the ones who take e’ery inch of this dick, they call me Daddy Long Stroke ’cause I gotta long, thick, chocolate stick that heats up and beats up the pussy. Nice ’n slow, long ’n deep, fast ’n hard, all muthafuckin’ night long—anyway, anywhere, anyhow you want it, I give it. Ya heard? You want it rough, you want it rugged. I’ma slay ya muthafuckin’ ass ’til ya shit-hole starts to smoke. You want it slow, you want it gentle. I’ma rock ya box ’til ya eyes cross, real talk. Fuck wit’ this dick if ya want, a nigga like me’ll have ya ass crawlin’ ’round tryna find ya way home. Have ya soakin’ ya swollen pussy lips overnight. So, I’ma tell ya some real shit. Fuck at ya own risk. And be prepared to get rocked inside out ’cause I’ma slam it, grind it, and wind it, all up in ya. Deeply, savagely, tenderly—whatever, this dick is made for stretchin’ that sweet, tight, wet pussy to the limit. And there you have it.
Anyway, back to the bitch I got in front of me. I have her legs up over my shoulders, my face is buried between her thighs, and I’m tongue-fuckin’ the shit outta her pussy, alternatin’ between eatin’ her pussy and lickin’ her asshole while jerkin’ my dick. I got her wrigglin’ and squirmin’ and moanin’. “Oh, yes…ah…ah… oh, yes…ohmyGod, you gonna make me cum…aaaah…aaaaah… oh, shit…I’m cuuuuu—” Now guess what the fuck she does while she’s creamin’ on my muthafuckin’ tongue?
This nasty bitch lets out a loud, hot-ass fart! And it’s one of them rotten-ass, lingerin’ kind. Now I don’t know ’bout you, but this kinda shit ain’t acceptable. Keepin’ shit real, a few times I’ve had a chick fart while suckin’ on my dick. But, I have never—and I mean muthafuckin’ never—had no shit like this happen. It feels and tastes like I’ve just sucked in a mouthful of horse shit. This bitch is lucky I’m not into smackin’ up a chick, ’cause if I was… man, listen, I’d peel her muthafuckin’ skull back. I can tell she’s embarrassed. But…I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. I’m sorry, it’s a wrap. Game over! This bitch has to go!
“Yo, what the fuck?!” I snap, yankin’ my head back and jumpin’ up. “You’se one nasty-ass bitch for real, yo. How you gonna bust off in my muthafuckin’ face like that?”
“I’m so sorry,” she says apologetically. “Sometimes I cum real hard and, when I do, I pass gas unexpectedly. I tried to hold it in, but it crept out. You had me feeling so good. I really didn’t mean for it to happen.”
Crept out? Nah, fuck that. Who the fuck she think she’s talkin’ to? I done fucked her pussy inside out, makin’ her nut ’til she shakes on more than one occasion. And not once did this bitch ever bust outta her ass. But, okay, maybe she does cum hard and farts at the same time from time to time. Yeah, whatever! If that’s the case, then why the fuck didn’t the slut warn a muhfucka? Crept out, my ass! This bitch is literally full of shit—word up. The way that fart roared the fuck out, the bitch pushed it out purposefully, feel me?
“Well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me to move outta the way, or somethin’, instead of havin’ a nigga’s face all pressed up in your ass like that, suckin’ in ya funky-ass fumes?”
“I got caught up in the moment,” she offers, sittin’ up. “And wasn’t thinkin’.”
“You wasn’t thinkin’?” I repeat. She tries to keep from laughin’. But, a muhfucka like me don’t find shit amusin’ ’bout someone bustin’ they ass in ya muthafuckin’ grill. Stupid bitch! “Well, guess what? You not thinkin’ done got ya funky ass put the fuck out. So, get ya shit on, and get ta steppin’.”
She looks at me like I have boogers ’n snot hangin’ outta my nose or some shit. But fuck what ya heard. I ain’t the one. She frowns. “Are you serious? I said it was an accident.”
“Yo, I’m dead-ass. Get the fuck out.” I walk over and start pickin’ up her clothes and tossin’ ’em at her.
She gets up offa the bed and starts snatchin’ her shit up. “That’s real fucked up. You know that, right?”
“Bitch, I don’t give a fuck,” I hear myself sayin’ in my head. But I igg the ho instead; stare at her as she puts back on her bra. I pick up my cell, scroll through my address book ’til I get to Carla’s number. I hit the call button, then wait for her to pick up.
“Hey, boo,” she answers. “You finally got around to calling me.”
“Hey, baby, what’s good?”
“You,” she coos.
I cut my eye over at Shakeeta. She got the nerve to be icegrillin’ me while gettin’ dressed. I keep my eyes locked on hers. Stare her down. Stupid bitch! Who the fuck names their child Shakeeta any damn way? Fuckin’ ghetto-ass bird.
“That’s wassup, baby. Yo, you feel like suckin’ this dick tonight?”
“Always,” she respond
s. “Just let me know when.”
“Bet. I’ma swing through as soon as I toss out this trash.”
Shakeeta slams her hand up on her hip. Her neck starts rollin’. “Nigga, I know your black ass is not tryna call me trash. And how the fuck you gonna call another bitch up and I’m standing right here…”
“Who’s that in the background?” Carla asks. “Sounds like—”
“I’ll see you in a half-hour,” I say, cuttin’ her off and snappin’ my phone shut.
“…That’s some real foul shit, nigga, for you to disrespect me like that,” she continues as she puts on the rest of her shit. “But, not to worry, muhfucka, I ain’t hard-pressed for no nigga, or his dick, especially yours. Trust me.”
I laugh at her ass. “Mighty funny ya ass is always blowin’ up my line talkin’ ’bout how much you need this dick, how much you love this dick, how much you don’t wanna stop gettin’ this dick. But now you ain’t pressed. Yeah, okay. That’s what ya mouth says.”
“Fuck you!” she yells, swingin’ open the bedroom door, and stormin’ down the stairs. I follow behind her, holdin’ my breath, hopin’ like hell Pops ain’t here to hear this shit. That’s all I need right now. “You ain’t shit, nigga, for real.” She gets to the front door, swings it open, then stops before walkin’ out. She turns to face me. “I shoulda shitted in ya motherfuckin’ mouth.”
“Ho, get ya stankin’ bum-ass on up outta here.”
She gives me the finger. “Fuck you, nigga! I’ve been thrown outta better places.” She storms out, leavin’ the front door wide open.
I walk over and shut the door, lockin’ it. Then stand in the middle of the livin’ room for a minute, listenin’ to see if I hear Pops stirrin’ ’round up in this piece. I can’t front, a nigga’s relieved that it’s quiet. Pops done warned me hundreds of times ’bout bringin’ this kinda shit up in his spot, and the last thing I need is for him to walk in on it. Dude would be up in here snappin’ for sure. Nigga, you know you shoulda handled that bitch better than that, I think, headin’ back up the stairs to slip on some sweats and a T-shirt. What if she woulda started bustin’ shit up in here? How the fuck would you ’splain that?