Daddy Long Stroke

by Cairo

  She let out a loud-ass moan, then started screamin’ and buckin’ her hips. Three minutes later, her nut oozed out into my mouth and onto my tongue. A nigga can’t front, that fat ho got some sweet, creamy pussy. And it’s hot, and muthafuckin’ tight. I finished suckin’ her hole clean, then flipped her over onto her stomach. “You ready for this big dick, bitch?” I asked, slappin’ her on her ass. I tried not to frown at all the dents and craters in her ass.

  “Yes, fuck me,” she moaned, archin’ her back and pumpin’ her hips. “Stretch my pussy with that big-ass, black dick, nigga.”

  I grinned, slidin’ on a condom, then pushin’ the head of my dick into the back of her pussy. Biscuit Heels gasped as I slowly entered her. I fed her this dick nice ’n slow. Reached ’round her and started squeezin’ her niblets—my term for teenie tits wit’ lil’ nipples. I fucked her wit’ six inches of dick, then let her twist ’n wiggle up on it, takin’ in the rest. And the whole time I was hittin’ it from the back, I was thinkin’, Damn, this bitch needs a back bra for all this muthafuckin’ back fat.

  But I gotta say big girl handled this dick. I had my hands on my hips watchin’ her ass jiggle ’n bounce. The more she bounced and shook, the more dick she took in. By the time I finished rockin’ her box, I walked up outta her spot wit’ not only the paper she hit me wit’, but wit’ her beggin’ me to come back through today to run up in her fat, low self-esteem-havin’ ass again. Bless her chubby lil’ heart!

  I pull open my laptop, then turn it on. And the minute I log onto my email account. Several IM screens pop up. Damn, these bitches are real thirsty, I think.

  ILoveSweetCum: Hey, baby. Haven’t seen you online lately, where you been, boo?

  DaddyLongStroke: Chillin’, ma. What’s good wit’ you?

  ILoveSweetCum: Missing u

  Yeah, right! How the fuck this ho gonna miss me. The dumb bitch doesn’t even know me. Hell, none of ’em do. And if I’ve fucked any of ’em, then the only thing they know is how I rock the box. Other than that, these bitches be straight bullshittin’. I shake my head.

  Daddylongstroke: Bring me them pretty-ass dick suckas, and prove it

  ILoveSweetCum: LMFAO. U a trip, nigga

  Daddylongstroke: Nah, baby. I ain’t trippin’. I got a bucket of thick, sweet cum for ya throat. Stop frontin’ and cum get it

  I switch to the next IM box, then alternate from one screen to the next, tryna keep up wit’ these hoes tryna get at me.

  ThicknDaHips: When you gonna stop frontin’ and stroke me up?

  DaddyLongStroke: Oh, so you think you ready for this dick?

  ThicknDaHips: Baby, I was born ready

  DaddyLongStroke: LOL, that’s what ya mouth says. U can’t take no real dick

  ThicknDaHips: CTFU. Try me

  Onmyknees2plez: Hey, big daddy; why u hiding from me? Stop acting like u scared of me, baby. I don’t bite

  DaddyLongStroke: lmfao. Baby, ain’t no body hidin’ from ya sexy ass. U da one runnin’ from this dick. E’ery time we supposed to hook up you backin’ out on a nigga

  Onmyknees2plez: ROTFL. Nigga, u got me confused with one of them other chicks. U ain’t said nothing but a word. What kinda condoms u use?

  DaddyLongStroke: Magnums, baby. XL. U know what that means, right?

  Onmyknees2plez: Yeah. That a big dick don’t mean shit if u don’t know how to use it

  ThicknDaHips: Hello, u still there????????

  DaddyLongStroke: Yeah, hol’ up

  ILoveSweetCum: U still there??

  DaddyLongStroke: Yeah, baby. Hold up, BRB. Gotta take a leak

  DaddyLongStroke: Well, I know howta use it. The ? is do u know howta take it?

  Onmyknees2plez: Sure do

  DaddyLongStroke: Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say. Stop frontin’ and show ’n prove

  Onmyknees2plez: Call me, TONIGHT

  DaddyLongStroke: what’s ya number again?

  Onmyknees2plez: 908-444-5533

  DaddyLongStroke: Aiiight, bet. I’ma get at u later tonight

  Onmyknees2plez: U better

  DaddyLongStroke: So, Thick, what’s good? When we gonna meet up so I can split that back down the middle? A nigga tryna pop ya spine out

  ThicknDaHips: Lmao@a nigga tryna pop ya spine out. U funny as hell

  DaddyLongStroke: Nah, baby. I’m dead-ass. I wanna fuck. But, you da one frontin’ n shit. Hol’ up. Gotta piss. BRB

  ThicknDaHips: Aiight

  DaddyLongStroke: Aiight, I’m back

  ILoveSweetCum: Oh, okay. I almost thought you forgot about me

  DaddyLongStroke: Never that. So when u tryna wet this dick?

  ILoveSweetCum: Call me. 973-555-3303

  DaddyLongStroke: Aiight. I’ma hit u up lata

  DaddyLongStroke: I’m back

  ThicknDaHips: Geesh. Took you long enough. Musta been one helluva piss

  DaddyLongStroke: Well, I gotta long dick so it takes me longer to piss

  ThicknDaHips: LMAO. U stupid

  I take a deep breath. All this back ’n forth IM’in’ is startin’ to give a muhfucka a damn headache.

  DaddylongStroke: Nah, baby, ain’t nuthin’ stupid ’bout me stick-in’ this Mandingo cock up in ya

  ThicknDaHips: Then let’s have at it

  DaddyLongStroke: U talk a good one, baby

  Another IM screen pops up. I shake my head. On some real shit, I can’t tell you the first thing ’bout any of these bitches, other than the fact they gotta pussy. And wanna fuck. I hear the garage door open, I log off the computer, abruptly cuttin’ all them cock-hungry hoes off.

  My cell rings. I shake my head, glancin’ at the screen. It’s Candy; another one of them chunky-monkey bitches. She’s one of those tight-pussied chicks who borders between ugly and beasty, dependin’ on how the light shines on her. Her long, fake eyelashes and wide, pudgy nose makes her look like a chocolate Miss Piggy. Actually, the bitch kinda reminds me of a much thicker and wider version of that funny-lookn’ chick, Tiffany sumthin’. You know, the one who played New York on that busted-ass reality show, I Love New York. Anyway, ugly and fat or not—wit’ the lights out, she’s a damn good lay, a greedy cock sucka, and she knows howta lace a nigga.

  “Yo, what’s good?”

  “Hey, baby. You know it’s almost that time, so what you want for your birthday?” she asks. Damn, when did I tell her my birthday was? Shit, I have so many of ’em I forget which ho I done told which date to.

  “My birthday?”

  “Yeah, fool. Isn’t your birthday on the eighteenth of next month?”

  “Right, right,” I say, chucklin’. “I got so much shit on my mind I almost forgot.”

  She laughs. “You need to lay off the trees, baby. They got you forgetting your own birthday.”

  Shut ya Samoan ass up wit’ that dumb shit! I think, sparkin’ a blunt. She’s been givin’ me a birthday fuck, along wit’ a few gifts, for the last four years. I haveta laugh ’cause chick really thinks she’s doin’ me a favor and givin’ me sumthin’ special. But, I let her fat ass think it’s the nicest shit anyone’s ever done for me. It makes her feel good that she’s makin’ a muhfucka feel special, so who am I to steal her joy. Besides, once a year is ’bout as much as I can stomach from her linebacker ass.

  “Well, you know I ’preciate you always rememberin’. I can always count on you to come through to make a muhfucka like me feel special. That means a lot.”

  “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

  “Not as sweet as you and that tight pussy,” I tell her. Yeah, it’s a small lie, but it makes her feel good, and gets me what I want. “You need to let me come through so I can stretch that shit out for ya, now.”

  She laughs. “You stay tryna fuck somebody.”

  “And?”

  “And, nothing; I’m just saying.”

  “Well, what you sayin’? Can I beat that shit up, or what?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Oh, aiight. That’s wassup. Tonight?”

&
nbsp; “No,” she says, suckin’ her teeth, “on ya birthday when I see you, like we always do.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know. You can’t knock a nigga for tryna get some pre-birthday sex.”

  She laughs. “Whatever. I know you got enough bitches keeping your dick wet the rest of the year. But as long as I’m the one fucking that big-ass dick on ya birthday, it’s all good.”

  I laugh wit’ her. “I feel you, baby. Yo, you votin’?

  “Are you kidding? Hell yeah, I’m voting. I’ma be at the polls bright and early. Me, my mother, grandmother and three sisters.”

  “Oh, aiight. That’s wassup. ’Cause if you weren’t, I was gonna haveta cancel this dick on you.”

  She laughs again. “Well, that’s not about to happen, so I’ll see you on ya birthday.”

  “No doubt,” I tell her, hangin’ up.

  21

  I’m layin’ ’cross my bed playin’ wit’ my dick. A nigga’s in the mood for some hot, nasty phone sex. But I don’t really have anyone I can hit up ’cause most of these bitches wanna fuck after ’bout a minute of me talkin’ this good shit to ’em. And all I wanna do is beat my dick, bust this nut and chill today. I grab the baby oil, wet my dick up wit’ it, then close my eyes. I long stroke it, usin’ my other hand to grab my balls, creatin’ a scenario of voices in my head.

  Yeah, baby, you like this big dick, don’t you?…

  Oh, yes…

  You a nasty lil’ bitch.

  I’m your nasty bitch, nigga…fuck my pussy.

  Yeah, you want daddy to bang up that tight pussy; don’t you, you slutty bitch?

  Yeah, nigga…fuck me with that long-ass dick. You nasty, black muhfucka.

  Damn, you wettin’ a nigga up, baby. Hmm…this pussy’s good…let me take this dick out and slap it across them big-ass, slutty-dick suckas…

  Oooh, yes, slap my lips with that heavy-ass dick, muhfucka. You gonna let me suck all over that thick-ass dick, nigga?

  Yeah, I’ma let you suck ya pussy juice all off this dick…you gonna let me spit in ya mouth, then run this dick down in ya throat?

  Nigga, if you spit in my mouth, I’ma smack the shit outta you.

  I got both hands on my dick now, double strokin’ it.

  Yeah, bitch, that shit turns me on…smack me, slut…I wanna bust this nut in ya hot-ass pussy. You gonna let me creampie you, then suck that shit outta ya?

  Mmmmm…oooh, you a nasty, freaky muthafucka…I want you to slap ya dick on my ass, then fuck me deep in it…

  I quicken my strokes, “Uh…uh…aaah, shit,” I moan, splatterin’ my nut all over my chest and stomach. I lie still for a moment, steady my breathin’, then wipe my nut offa me wit’ one of my cum rags—old washcloths I strictly use for jackin’. “Damn, that shit was good.” I rub my balls, pinchin’ my left nipple. I wanna nut again.

  My cell rings, disruptin’ my private moment. I reach for it off the the nightstand and glance at the screen. It’s my nigga, Short Stacks…damn, I mean Glenn. We’re not as tight as I am wit’ Red, Mike, and Gee, but we still cool. We actually went to the same high school, played varsity basketball together and ended up at the same college. Of course he graduated, and you already know what it was wit’ me. If you ran into ’im on the streets at night, you’d think he was just another saggy-pants-wearin’, tree-blazin’ hood nigga, but dude actually got his shit together. By day, he’s a proper-talkin’, suit-’n-tie-type nigga down on Wall Street makin’ moves. But the minute he comes ’round his boys, he flips—like many of us—right back into hood mode, blazin’, drinkin’ and talkin’ mad shit.

  “Yo, my nig, sound like ya ass’s already blitzed.”

  “Nah, not really; just a little sumthin’. Me and Gee had a few shots of Cuervo.”

  I laugh. “Aaaah, shit. And I bet that tequila got ya ass feelin’ right.”

  “No, doubt, son. You already know.”

  “Yeah, I know, nigga. I know ya ugly, black ass is a damn lush.”

  “Nigga, fuck outta here. Ya ass’s blacker than me.”

  We both laugh. “Yeah, and I gotta longer dick. But what that got to do wit’ ya ass bein’ a damn drunk?”

  “Shit. But I pull more bitches than you.”

  “Yeah, okay. But, ya ass’s short strokin’ ’em, so it don’t matter how many hoes you mackin’. At the end of the night, you just an appetizer to ’em, muhfucka.”

  “Fuck you, nigga,” he says, laughin’, “appetize on these nuts.”

  “Yeah, aiiight, muhfucka. That’s the same shit I told ya moms after I finished nuttin’ in her mouth.”

  He continues laughin’. “Awww, damn. Why you gotta go there? That’s some real foul shit, nigga.”

  “Well, watch ya mouth then, muhfucka. Don’t hate on me ’cause ya stroke game is whack.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, nigga,” he snaps, soundin’ offended. I laugh at his ass. ’Cause he knows I’m keepin’ shit real. No homo. But, after all the trains ’n shit we done pulled on bitches growin’ up, and the group epps we done swung wit’ chicks, he knows I know what it is. Not to put him on blast or nuthin’, but there’s a reason they call ’im Short Stacks. ’Cause the nigga’s shit is thick as hell, but most bitches be snappin’ on his ass for not knowin’ how to keep his dick in ’em. My thing is, if ya dick is constantly slippin’ outta a bitch’s hole, then maybe you need to change up ya stroke, feel me? But this nigga here ain’t get the memo. Or he just too stuck on retarded to understand that a short-dick muhfucka can’t long stroke no pussy.

  “So, what’s good, muhfucka?” he asks, bringin’ me back to the conversation. “You tryna roll out wit’ us or what?”

  “Where ya’ll niggas goin’?”

  “The Rhum Lounge.”

  The Rhum Lounge is located on the lower level of this slick lil’ Jamaican restaurant called Negril in the Village. The food is bangin’ and the in-house DJ spins reggae, calypso, soca, hip-hop and R & B joints while you sit back, chill, and get ya eat and drink on. I think for a minute. Try to decide if I really wanna fuck wit’ ’em tonight like that. I mean, these my niggas ’n shit, but sometimes they go overboard wit’ the drinkin’ and start poppin’ a buncha shit, especially Gee’s dumb-ass.

  “Listen, muhfucka, I ain’t beat for no drama tonight, word up. Ya’ll muhfuckas be on some extra shit sometimes. If you gonna be mixin’ ya drinks ’n shit, throwin’ up all over the place, let me know now.” He laughs. “Ain’t shit funny, nigga. The last time, you fucked ’round and threw up all in my muthafuckin’ whip. Had my shit all fucked up. And ya black ass still owe me for the detailin’.”

  “Nigga, stop whinin’. I got you. Besides, I’m drivin’ my own shit tonight.”

  “Yeah, whatever, muhfucka. Just have me my money.”

  “Nigga, fuck that shit you talkin’. You hangin’ or not?”

  “What time ya’ll muhfuckas tryna roll?” I ask, glancin’ at my watch: 7:25 p.m.

  “’Bout nine.”

  “Oh, aiight. That’ll work.”

  “Bet. You just need to scoop Ron up.”

  “Ron? I thought that nigga was on ya side of town.”

  “Not tonight he’s not. He’s at his sister’s.”

  I shake my head. Not to kick dudes back in. But when it comes to women, he’s ’bout as dumb and pussywhipped as they come. “I take it he done got his dumb-ass put out, again.” He laughs. Asks me what time I’ma swing through and scoop ’im up. “Which sister’s spot is he at?”

  “Lynn’s,” he tells me.

  Lynn’s his younger sister; a cutie wit’ a juicy bootie. She’s also a real hot-box. And, of course, I thrashed it a few times on the low. I dicked her upside down and inside out; gave her pussy a beatdown she’d never experienced before. Not once, not twice, but at least a dozen times before her dumb ass started actin’ like she wanted to chain a muhfucka down. So she got dismissed. But she got mad props for keepin’ her cum-guzzler shut ’bout our epps.

  “Yo,” I say to Glenn, “let
that nigga know I’ma be through ’round nine-fifteen.”

  “Aiight, bet. See you cats later.”

  “One.”

  At nine-thirty I text Ron to let ’im know I’m ’round the corner and to be at the door ready to roll. The minute I turn onto his sister’s street, a bright-ass porch light flips on, and I see him comin’ out the door. He’s rockin’ a slick brown leather blazer over a brown pullover wit’ his signature platinum and diamond fist danglin’ from a platinum chain. The nigga’s neck is practically glowin’ from the lights hittin’ hit. And he has his brown Negro Leagues fitted cap cocked to the side. I pull up to the curb, unlockin’ the door. As soon as he opens the door, I can smell the combination of leather and cologne way before he gets his ass in the car. He smells like he practically washed himself in a whole bottle of Dolce & Gabbana.

  The minute he shuts the door, I say, “Damn, muhfucka. What’d you do, bathe in that shit?”

  “Nah,” he says, fastenin’ his seatbelt. He reaches over and gives me a brotherly pound. “What’s good?”

  “Shit,” I say, pullin’ off, makin’ my way toward I-280 East. I crack the front windows before the muhfucka suffocates me wit’ all them smells goin’ on. “What’s been up wit’ you?”

  He sighs, placin’ his head back on the headrest. “Not much man. Same shit, different day. Or should I say, same shit, different broad.”