by Cairo
“Oh, word? I can’t tell. It took ya sexy ass long ’nough to hit a nigga back. I called you almost two weeks ago.”
“With this housing market the way it is, it’s been a bit hectic here. But, you know I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yeah, baby, you always do.”
“This fat pussy misses you like crazy.”
And I miss them fat cheeks. This ho’s paper is long as hell. She owns her own real estate company and the homes she sells are two million and up. “Damn, baby. And this heavy dick misses you, too, boo,” I tell her. “I’ve been dreamin’ ’bout suckin’ on that sweet, juicy clit of yours, and stickin’ this tongue deep in ya hot slit. Nobody rides this dick like you, baby.”
“Mmmm,” she moans into the phone. “You keep talking like that and you’re gonna have me catching the next flight out of L.A. to Jersey. You got me wanting to play in my pussy.”
I laugh, slippin’ my hand down in my boxers. “I done beat you to it, baby. I’m already strokin’ my shit, thinkin’ ’bout you ridin’ down on this dick. And it’s loaded wit’ thick, gooey cream—just for you.”
See, e’ery now and then, you gotta stroke a ho’s ego. Let her know what you think she wants to know. That you can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout her, that you miss her, that she has the best pussy you’ve had and you can’t stop dreamin’ ’bout it. Let her think she got ya ass hooked on that cock clamper of hers.
“When you coming to see me?”
I smile. “When you wanna see me?”
“Now,” she says.
I laugh. “Damn, baby, you horny like that?”
“You have no idea. I need to be fucked, deep and hard by a long, thick black dick.”
“That’s what it is. I’d be there to feed you this dick, on the next muthafuckin’ thing smokin’, if I had the ends. But shit’s real hectic, feel me? A muhfucka’s still not workin’.” I grin.
“Alex, baby, you know you don’t have to ever worry about money. All you gotta do is say the word and I’ma have a ticket waiting for you, along with spending money. You know how we do. I wish you’d pack all your things and move out here. You know I know a lot of people here, and have plenty of connections. I know I can get you hired somewhere. As a matter of fact, an ex of mine owns a large construction company out here. I could put in a good word for you.”
I frown. Construction? Is this ho serious? What the fuck a muhfucka like me look like doin’ some muthafuckin’ manual labor? The only work I’ma do that requires me to sweat is fuck. All that extra shit she talkin’ is out.
“Listen, baby,” I say. “I ’preciate you tryna look out. But what I look like workin’ for another cat who used to run his dick up in you?”
She laughs. “Baby, that man hasn’t had a taste of this in over fifteen years.”
“Still a muhfucka like me ain’t diggin’ workin’ for ya ex, or anyone’s ex, for that matter. But I definitely ’preciate you havin’ my back, that’s wassup. Anyway, wit’ my moms in a wheelchair ’n shit, I can’t just up and bounce on her like that, smell me? She’s not in the best of health, but I’m not ’bout to put her in no funky-ass nursin’ home. She’s always been there for me, and I gotta always be here for her, feel me?”
“I understand. But, you need a break, baby. You need some of Cherry’s good pussy and TLC. I’m sure you can sneak away for a week or two. Let Cherry rub you down, lick up them big balls for you, suck down that dick, and serve you up a platter of this hot ass and juicy pussy—the way you like it, rough and nasty.”
This bitch knows damn well she ain’t suckin’ down no dick, but I let her live in her fantasy. I squeeze my dick. Jerk it in long, deep strokes. I decide to gas her head up even more. “You ain’t never lied, pretty baby. I need to get away in the worst way. I’m sick of bein’ deprived. These lame chicks out here ain’t ridin’ this dick right, and they damn sure don’t know howta treat a muhfucka. You got ’em all beat, baby—hands down.”
I can see her smilin’ through the phone. I can’t front, though. The bitch is right—nice, thick body; pretty face; hot, fat pussy; deep ass. She’s the total package. And, at thirty-five, she’s makin’ power moves and really doin’ big things. The only problem is she got a forehead bigger than Vivica Fox’s, and the bitch is baldin’. All she rocks are weaves and wigs. And a muhfucka like me ain’t wit’ all that extra shit. I mean, it’s cool if you rockin’ it from time to time, but then you rockin’ ya own shit, feel me? You know, let ya muthafuckin’ scalp air out. But a ho who lives and breathes a buncha fake-ass hair, all the time…hmmph, you only good for fuckin’ ’cause I’d never wanna wife ya bald-headed ass. I don’t give a fuck how fine you are. You better take ya ass down to the muthafuckin’ Hair Club and get that shit grafted, or invest in a case of Rogaine.
“Good, that’s what I wanna hear. I don’t need to be trying to compete for any of your attention.”
“Nah, baby, it’s all you. There’s no competition. When I’m wit’ you, you have my undivided attention.” My focus is right on ya muthafuckin’ bank book. “I’ve been missin’ you, Boo.”
“You gotta sista over here blushing,” she says. “I’ve been missing you, too. Baby, you just don’t know. My whole body aches for you. I haven’t been fucked right since the last time you were here.”
“Me either, baby. I’m so ready to bust this nut,” I tell her, pumpin’ my dick in and outta my hand, fast and furious. “I wanna put this big dick all up in you bad, baby.” I scoop some Vaseline into my hand, then smear it all over the head and shaft of my dick. I feel like nuttin’ so I decide to speed jerk a hot one out.
She moans. “You’re makin’ my pussy wet talkin’ like that.”
“Yeah, baby, just how I like it. You got that big, wet pussy… mmmm.”
“Why you teasing me? Do you know how horny I am?”
“Yeah, baby, I know…ah, shit…” I pinch my left nipple. “Aah, fuck, baby…”
She laughs. “OhmyGod, how you gonna jerk off and not let me get off, too?”
“Sorry, babe. I couldn’t help myself. You know anytime I hear your voice, I brick up. You make me horny as hell. Oh, shit…I’m gettin’ ready to spit this nut.”
She moans again. “Oooh, I wish I was there, or you were here, so I could catch that hot, gooey cum in my mouth.”
“Damn, baby…you gonna let me smear this nut on ya tongue?”
“Mmm-hmm…”
The head of my dick swells as my nut rises. “Open ya mouth, baby…catch daddy’s nut…you ready?”
“Yessssssssss, baaaaaby, yesssssssss…”
“Here it comes…mmmph…aaah, shit…I cummin’…Aaaah, aaaah…” I cup my heavy balls, pull ’em, then bust my nut. It spurts out, shoots up in the air, then lands all over my stomach and chest. I keep strokin’ it, milkin’ the rest of this nut outta it. “Aaah, fuck…mmmph …” I rub my nut into my skin, wishin’ I woulda had someone here to feed it to instead of wastin’ it all on me. I smell my fingers, gettin’ up from the sofa to wash my hands in the bathroom. While at the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror, flexin’ my chest and stomach muscles. I gotta hit the gym later today, I think, dryin’ my hands. I shut off the water, then go into the kitchen, pullin’ out a stool and takin’ a seat at the counter. I shuffle through the stack of mail. Mostly junk, but a few bills. I make a note to pay my cable and water bills, then toss the shit back on the counter.
“I’m glad you got yours. Now when are you coming here so I can get mine? And how long can you stay? And, please don’t tell me only for the weekend. I want you here for at least a week, two if possible. And you know I always make it worth your while.”
Although I ain’t really beat to be out there more than two days, three at the most, I know she’s good for at least five or more gees, and a new wardrobe. And I’m guaranteed nonstop fuckin’ and suckin’. I think and consider my options, knowin’ there ain’t any. None of the other broads I’m smashin’ at the moment are passin’ a muhfucka any major paper, so�
��fuck them peanuts they shellin’ out; I’ma let it do what it do. Of course there’s no guilt for nuthin’ I do, but I decide to let her think there is. “You know this shit fucks me up, right?”
“What, big daddy?”
“Havin’ to lean on you for plane tickets ’n shit like that. I wanna be able to handle wit’out you comin’ outta ya wallet all the time, feel me? A muhfucka wants to be able to show you my ’preciation.”
“Oh, please. I told you don’t ever sweat stuff like that. I make enough money for the both of us, and I don’t mind sharing any of it with you. Life is too short. I want what I want when I want it. And I don’t care what the cost. And right, now, I want your fine, sexy, chocolatey-self and that long, black horse dick of yours here in my bed, between my legs, fucking this pussy inside out. I’m booking you a flight. It’ll be an open ticket. You want to show me your appreciation, then be on that flight and come here and fuck me down.”
I grin. “Book the flight, baby.”
16
So, here it is almost six o’clock in the evening, the house is quiet as hell and I’m up in my room, chillin’—kicked back in my boxers, blazin’ a blunt and burnin’ incense ’round the room—watchin’ the flick The Kinsley Report when there’s a knock on the door. Thinkin’ it’s Pops, I put out the blunt and get up to open the door. Although Pops has never cared ’bout me blazin’ in the house, outta respect I don’t do the shit ’round ’im. I swing the door open, and almost pass the fuck out. To my surprise—and muthafuckin’ dismay—Sherria is standin’ on the other side of the door, scowlin’.
Fuck! First of all, how the hell she know where to find me? And, second, how the hell she get in? I’m the only one up in this piece, so I know Pops couldna let her in. Or did he? Nah, dude wouldna let her come upstairs like that. I start buggin’ and thinkin’ this crazy-ass trick done broke in. That’s the last thing I fuckin’ need, word up. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, what, you thought it was one of ya other bitches? Well, surprise, surprise, nigga. It ain’t.”
“Yo, how the fuck you know where to find me?”
“Don’t worry ’bout that,” she snaps, foldin’ her arms ’cross her juicy double-D’s. Images of my dick in between ’em pop in my head, and I feel my dick startin’ to awaken. I quickly shake the thought before I forget the reason I’m not fuckin’ wit’ her ass anymore. She’s one of those controllin’, miserable bitches who got wrapped up wit’ a few muhfuckas that cheated on her, lied to her, and pushed her biscuit in one time too many in her life. So she’s angry wit’ e’ery livin’, breathin’ muhfucka on earth. “I told you I knew where you stayed. A bitch like me did her homework. I asked around and followed you. Now are you gonna let me in, or what?”
I clench my jaw, keepin’ my body between her and the door. “I wanna know how you got in here, first.” Please tell me this nutty, stalkin’-ass bitch didn’ break in.
She rolls her eyes, suckin’ her teeth. “No, I didn’t break in,” she says, readin’ my mind. “I’m not that fuckin’ crazy.” I give her an “oh really” look. She glares at me. “Your father was on his way out and let me in. Nice-lookin’ man, too, I might add. I hope he isn’t as fucked up as you are.”
I frown. Why the fuck would he do some dumb shit like that? Man, Pops is really slippin’, I think, eyein’ her. I make a mental note to check him on it. I feel myself gettin’ agitated. “Yo, what the fuck you want?”
“First of all, don’t come at me like that…”
“Yo, check this shit out. I’ll come at you however I want when you standin’ up in my muthafuckin’ grill uninvited, unexpected, and unwanted. So, again, what the fuck do you want?”
She glares at me. Nostrils flare. “You’ve been fucking avoiding my calls for the last two months, and I wanna fucking know why. I opened myself up to you, let you into my heart and this is how you fuckin’ treat me.”
I sigh, starin’ at her. I already know there’s no fuckin’ way I’ma let her up in this bedroom. I’ll never get her outta here unless I fuck her to death, and that ain’t ’bout to happen. Pops done let this nutcase in. Now I gotta be the one to try ’n figure out how I’ma get her ass the fuck up outta here wit’out her bustin’ up shit, or tryna claw me up. Some bitches can’t handle rejection, and she’s definitely one of ’em. The last thing I need is to be hemmed up on some domestic violence-type shit, feel me?
Fuck what ya heard. You can pop all the shit you want. But don’t get up in my space, talkin’ wit’ ya hands. And do not put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me. And this Looney Tune has already proven the last time I was wit’ her that she likes to get it in when shit ain’t goin’ her way—like when she threw an ashtray at my head for tellin’ her not to fuckin’ question me ’bout where I’ve been.
“Hol’ up, let me get some clothes on,” I tell her, shuttin’ the door in her face, then lockin’ it. She bangs on it.
“I’m not fucking goin’ anywhere, so you might as well open up this door, Alley Cat. Otherwise, I’ma keep fucking banging until you do. I wanna talk to you.”
I need a fuckin’ blunt. I snatch up the half-smoked blunt in the ashtray, and spark up. I yell at her through the door. “I said I’ll be out in a minute. So stop bangin’ on my muthafuckin’ door.”
“Well, hurry up.”
I finish gettin’ my smoke on. Then when I’m done, I open the door—ten minutes later—and this pigeon is still standin’ in the same spot wit’ her arms folded. I lock the door, closin’ it behind me. “Aiight, let’s talk,” I say to her, brushin’ past her goin’ toward the stairs. She follows behind me. Now, had I been thinkin’, I woulda had her go down the stairs—first, just in case she had a weapon and tried to stab or shoot me in the back, feel me? The bitch is one screw from crazy so anything is possible wit’ her. But I’m so pressed to get this ho outta the house in case she goes off and starts bustin’ up shit that I jump dead in front of her and race down the stairs.
I open the front door. “Let’s sit outside and talk.”
“Why can’t we talk in here?” she questions, stoppin’ in the middle of the livin’ room and puttin’ her hand up on her hip.
’Cause I wanna talk to ya unstable ass outside on the muthafuckin’ porch in front of witnesses, that’s why. “’Cause I need some fresh air,” I tell her, double-checkin’ my front pocket to make sure I have my cell on me. I stand wit’ the door open, waitin’ for her ass to walk out. I’m relieved when she does.
I step down from offa the porch, then take a seat. She decides to stand in front of me wit’ her arms folded tight ’round her chest, like she’s scared to let sumthin’ go.
“Okay, so talk,” I say, ice-grillin’ her.
“I wanna know why you stopped calling and returning my calls?”
Umm, you dizzy-ass ding bat that should be obvious: ’Cause ya ass is muthafuckin’ craaaaazy! I sigh. “It wasn’t workin’ out.”
“Oh really, since when?”
What the fuck?! Uh, duh, since I stopped callin’ ya dumb, lazy, dick-suckin’ ass. “Look, like I said, it wasn’t workin’ out.”
“Humph. Mighty funny it was workin’ out when I was lettin’ you ride around in my car and come in and outta my apartment, but the minute I check you on something, it’s not ‘working out.’”
“No, the minute you tried to get at me on some rah-rah type shit, throwin’ ashtrays ’n shit. That’s when it was no longer workin’. I ain’t wit’ all that extra ghetto bullshit.”
“So, you just stop fucking with me, instead of talking it out.”
I tilt my head. Stare at this fuckin’ broad long and hard. “Are you serious? Talk what out? A muhfucka who’s tryna build wit’ ya ass is talkin’ it out, not a nigga who is straight smashin’ you.”
I feel my cell vibratin’ and pull it outta my pocket. Lahney texts me: Cum through and ram that big, black cock up in me.
“I let you into my heart and this is how you fucking treat me…”
I text back: LOL,
you don’t really want it. This dick’ll have ya ass cryin’ again.
She sucks her teeth. “I can’t believe you’d pull out your fucking phone and start texting while I’m standing here trying to talk to you. How fucked up is that?”
Lahney texts: Whateva, punk! U cumming to beat this pussy up or what.
I shrug. “You tell me. You the one actin’ like a desperate housewife, huntin’ a nigga down ’n shit.”
She tsks me. “Desperate? Nigga, puhleeeze. I’m coming to you like a grown woman, trying to resolve whatever has gone wrong between us.”
I text Lahney back: Yeah, I got ya punk, aiight. 11.5-inches worth. What time u want it?
I look at Sherria. “Yo, check this out. There’s nuthin’ to resolve. How many times I gotta tell you, there was no us. We was fuckin’, that’s it. You wasn’t my girl. I wasn’t ya man. And I never promised you a future wit’ a rose garden. It was straight dickin’ you down. If you allowed ya’self to catch feelin’s, then that shit’s on you. So don’t come at me wit’ all the extras. If you wanna come at me like a woman, then take it for what it was, a fuck. And…step.”
Lahney texts: NOW!
“I know all that. But still, I thought you were different.”
I look out into the street, let what she’s said linger in the air, while she’s standin’ in front of me lookin’ all pathetic ’n shit. I thought you were different. I almost wanna laugh at her ass. Hell yeah, I’m muthafuckin’ different! Let’s see. I ain’t ever spit on her, smack her up, or use her face and body as an ashtray, puttin’ cigarettes ’n shit out on her. I ain’t ever fuck her sister—not that I would ’cause the bitch looks handicapped to me. I know, I know, you think a muhfucka like me will fuck anything. Well, news-flash: A nigga got standards. I might fuck a buncha hoes, but a bitch who looks like she belongs in the Special Olympics ain’t my flava, feel me?