by Cairo
Bitches kill me. Who the fuck they think they foolin’? All that dumb shit most of ’em be poppin’ ’bout what they not gonna do for a nigga. That’s a buncha bullshit, for real; ’specially when it comes to a muhfucka like me. I know I got good dick. And I know how to use e’ery muthafuckin’ inch of it. This long black dick is a ho’s blessing and her curse. It’s what they all want. It’s what they all obsess over. The size of a nigga’s dick; how low he’s hangin’; how much he’s packin’. It’s what they crave. And I’ve seen what a bitch will do to get at it. I’ve had bitches fall in love wit’ this dick; bitches who’ve stalked this dick; bitches who’d run down their own mamas to taste this dick in the back of their throats. Even when they know the nigga attached to it ain’t ever gonna be theirs. Even when they know the muhfucka pipin’ out their insides is gonna be the same muhfucka who disses their asses. Yet, they still wanna fuck; still wanna keep gettin’ this dick. So you tell me. Who the fuck is the real problem, them or me?
I peep my bag comin’ outta the chute, then grab it when it comes down toward me. I head outside. Damn, it’s gorgeous out this bitch. I smile, breathin’ in all the smog. Bottom line, there’s always gonna be a buncha horny-ass bitches out here who wanna fuck, be fucked, and suck down on this nut. I ain’t braggin’. I’m keepin’ shit real. And the real shit is, there’s always gonna be a ho out here who’s gonna always keep a nigga like me piped out and laced up. There’s always gonna be a buncha lonely, low-self-esteem-havin’, lovesick hoes out here who are gonna do whatever they can to have a muhfucka like me in their beds, even if it means they gotta beg, borrow, or steal. Even if it means they gotta keep lookin’ in the mirror e’ery damn day, lyin’ to themselves that a nigga like me is gonna one day love ’em back.
Like I told ya’ll goin’ into this shit, fuck wit’ a muhfucka like me at ya own risk. I’m ya sweetest most dangerous addiction— that dark, chocolate nigga who’s gonna melt in ya mouth and all up in guts. Have you feenin’ for ya next taste. I told you if you want it rough, you want it rugged. I’ma slay ya muthafuckin’ ass ’til ya shit-hole starts to smoke. No joke. You want it slow, you want it gentle. I’ma rock ya box ’til ya eyes cross, and that’s what it is. A muhfucka like me ain’t lookin’ for love, and I ain’t askin’ for none in return. There are only two things I seek. The first is pussy, and lots of it—deep, wet and gushy. The second is a long throat: a bitch who knows howta suck, gulp and swallow down a dick. And that’s it. All that extra shit, save it for the next muhfucka.
Cherry pulls up to the curb in her Jag. The top’s down, and she’s lookin’ like a million bucks. I toss my bag in the backseat, openin’ the door. I get in, then lean in and kiss her on the lips. Slide her some tongue.
“What’s good, pretty baby?”
“You,” she says, grinnin’. She’s wearin’ a short denim skirt, showin’ her smooth thighs. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good seein’ you, too. You got on panties?”
“Nope,” she says, pullin’ off.
I lean over, kissin’ her on the neck as I slide my hand between her thighs and start caressin’ her clit. She moans. “OhmyGod, you’re gonna make me have an accident.”
“Relax, baby. I got this. You just keep ya eyes on the road and drive.” She relaxes, lets her legs open wider, moanin’ as I slip my fingers into her pussy. “Yeah, baby. I’ma get this pussy nice ’n wet.”
“Oooh…aaah, shit,” she moans, swervin’ on the otherside of the highway, “you’re gonna make me cum.”
“Yeah, baby…nut all over my fingers. You want me to put this hard-ass dick in you.”
She swerves again. “Aaah, aaah…yes…”
“What’s my name, baby?”
She presses her foot down on the accelerator. She’s hittin’ ninety. “Aaaaaaah…aaah…I’m cummin’…”
“What’s my name?” I ask, pumpin’ two fingers into her wetness while usin’ my thumb to flick her clit.
She starts to shake, clutchin’ the steerin’ wheel. She’s doin’ a hunnid. “Aaaah…Daddy Long Stroke…aaah, shit…I’m cummin’.”
She screams and zigzags her whip in and outta traffic as she nuts. I pull out my hand, bring my sticky fingers to my lips, smell her cunt juice, then slip ’em into my mouth. “Damn, baby, you taste good,” I say, slurpin’ her syrup up. I grab my hard dick. “Fuck! I can’t wait to get you back to the crib, so I can beat that ass up wit’ this heavy-ass dick.”
She smiles, reachin’ over and rubbin’ my bulge. “And this is exactly what I need, baby.”
Yo, ya’ll can look at me any kinda way you want. But be clear. Don’t hate the player, baby. I didn’t make the game. I made the rules, my rules. To serve a ho this dick and rock her box ’til she stutters and forgets her name; to run this tongue all up in her pussy and ass ’til she tosses me the keys to her whip, begs me to move in, lines a nigga’s pockets wit’ paper, and the list goes on— one stroke, one slurp, at a muthafuckin’ time. And if a bitch gets all caught up, then that shit’s on her; she gets what she gets. But no matter what, I’ma do me. Still fuckin’, still nuttin’, still makin’ the bitches hot and the pussies pop ’cause I’m Daddy Long Stroke, muhfuckas…don’t forget it!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cairo is the author of The Manhandler and The Kat Trap. He resides in New Jersey, where he is working on his next literary creation, Deep Throat Diva. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name. You can email him at: [email protected]. Or visit him at www.myspace.com/cairo2u, www.facebook.com/CairoBlack, or www.blackplanet.com/cairo2u
THOUGHT “DADDY LONG STROKE” WAS HOT?
CHECK OUT THIS SNEAK PREVIEW OF
“Deep Throat Diva”
BY CAIRO
COMING MARCH 2011 FROM STREBOR BOOKS
ONE
You ready to cum? Imagine this: A pretty bitch down on her knees with a pair of soft, full lips wrapped around the head of your dick. A hot, wet tongue twirling all over it, then gliding up and down your shaft, wetting that joint up real slippery-like, then lapping at your balls; lightly licking your asshole. Mmmm, I’m using my tongue in places that will get you dizzy, urging you to give me your hot, creamy, nut. Mmmmm, baby…you think you ready? If so, sit back, lie back, relax and let the Deep Throat Diva rock your cock, gargle your balls, and suck you straight to heaven.
I reread the ad, make sure it conveys exactly what I want, need, it to say, then press the Publish tab. “There,” I say aloud, glancing around my bedroom, then looking down at my left hand. “Let’s see how many responses I get, this time.”
Ummm, wait…before I say anything else. I already know some of you uptight bitches are already shaking your heads and rolling your eyes. So I know that what I’m about to tell ya’ll is going to make some of you disgusted, and that’s fine by me. It is what it is. And I know there’s also going to be a bunch of you closeted, freaky bitches who are going to turn your noses up and twist up your lips, but secretly race to get home ’cause you just as nasty as I am. Hell, some of you are probably down on your knees as I speak, or maybe finishing up pulling a dick from out of your throats, or removing strands of pubic hair from in between your teeth. And that’s fine by me as well. Do you, boo. But, let me say this: Don’t any of you self-righteous hoes judge me.
So here goes. See. I have a man—dark chocolate, dreamy-eyed, sculpted and every woman’s dream—who’s been in incarcerated for four years, and he’s releasing from prison in less than nine months. And, yes, I’m excited and nervous and almost scared to death—you’ll know why in a minute. Annnywaaaay, not only is he a sexy-ass motherfucker, he knows how to grind, and stack paper. And he is a splendid lover. My God! His dick and tongue game can make a woman forget her name. And all the chicks who know him either want him, or want him back. And they’ll do anything they can to try to disrupt my flow. Hating-ass hoes!
Nevertheless, he’s coming home to me. The collect calls, the long drives, the endless nights of sexless sleep have taken a t
oll on me, and will all be over very soon. Between the letters, visits and keeping money on his books, I’ve been holding him down, faithfully. And I’ve kept my promise to him to not fuck any other niggas. I’ve kept this pussy tight for him. And it’s been hard, really hard—no, no, hard isn’t an accurate description of the agony I’ve had to bear not being fucked for over four years. It’s been excruciating!
But I love Jasper, so I’ve made the sacrifice. For him, for us! Still, I have missed him immensely. And I need him so bad. My pussy needs him, aches for the width of his nine-inch, veiny dick thrusting in and out of it. It misses the long, deep strokes of his thick tongue caressing my clit and its lower lips. I miss lying in his arms, of being held and caressed. But I have held out; denied any other niggas the privilege—and pleasure—of fucking this sweet, wet hole.
The problem is: Though I haven’t been riding down on anything stiff, I’ve been doing a little anonymous dick sucking on the side from time-to-time—and, every now and then, getting my pussy ate—to take the edge off. Okay, okay, I’m lying. I’ve been sucking a lot of dick. But it wasn’t supposed to be this way. I wasn’t supposed to become hooked on the shit as if it were crack. But, I have. And I am.
Truth be told. It started out as inquisitiveness. I was bored. I was lonely. I was fucking horny. And tired of sucking and fucking dildos, pretending they were Jasper’s dick. So I went on Nastyfreaks4u.com, a new website that’s been around for about two years or so. About a year ago, I had overheard one of the regulars who gets her hair done down at my salon talking about a site where men and women post amateur sex videos, similar to that on Xtube, and also place sex ads. So out of curiosity, I went onto their site, browsed around on it for almost a week before deciding to become a member and place my very own personal ad. I honestly wasn’t expecting anything to come of it. And a part of me had hoped nothing would. But, lo and behold, my email became flooded with requests. And I responded back. I told myself that I’d do it one time, only. But once turned into twice, then twice became three more times, and now—a year-and-a-half later, I’m logged on again—still telling myself that this time will be the last time.
I stare at my ring finger. Take in the sparkling four-carat engagement ring. It’s a nagging reminder of what I have; of what I could potentially end up losing. My reputation for one—as a successful, no-nonsense hairstylist and business owner of one the most upscale hair salons in the tri-state area; winner of two Bronner Brothers hair show competitions; numerous features in Hype Hair magazine, one of the leading hairstyle magazines for African-American women; and winner of the 2008 Global Salon Business Award, a prestigious award presented every two years to recognize excellence in the industry—could be tarnished. Everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve could be ruined in the blink of an eye.
My man, for another, could…will, walk out of my life. After he beats my ass, or worse—kills me. And I wouldn’t blame him, not one damn bit. I know better than anyone that as passionate a lover Jasper is, he can be just as ruthless if crossed. He has no problem punching a nigga’s lights out, smacking up a chick—or breaking her jaw, so I already know what the outcome will be if he ever finds out about my indiscretions. Yet I still choose to dance with deception, regardless of the outcome.
As hypocritical and deceitful as I’ve been, I can’t ever forget it was Jasper who helped me get to where I am today. He’s been the biggest part of my success, and I love him for that. Nappy No More wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for him believing in me, in my visions, and investing thousands of dollars into my salon eight years ago. Granted, I’ve paid him back and then some. And, yes, it’s true. I put up with all the shit that comes with loving a man who’s been caught up in the game. From his hustling and incarcerations to his fucking around on me in the early part of our relationship, I stood by him; loved him, no matter what. And I know more than anyone else that I’ve benefited from it. So as far as I’m concerned, I believe I owe him. He’s put all of his trust in me, has given me his heart, and has always been damn good to me. And, yes, this is how I’ve been showing my gratitude—by creeping on the internet.
He won’t find out, I think, sighing as I remove my diamond ring from my hand, placing it in my jewelry case, then locking it in the safe with the rest of my valuables. Jasper had given me this engagement ring and proposed to me a month before he got sentenced while he was still out on bail. He wanted me to marry him before he got locked up, but I wanted to wait until he got released. Having a half-assed wedding was not an option. But, they’ll be no wedding if I don’t get my mind right and stop this shit, soon! I’ll stop all this craziness once he gets home. This is what I tell myself; this is what I want to believe.
How many dicks have I sucked over the last year? Ummm, honestly, I wish I could tell you. Truth is I try not to give it much thought. Thinking about it would make me feel guiltier than I already do. Every time I walk back up in this spot and crawl back up into bed with thoughts of Jasper, every time he calls me and tells me how much he misses me and loves me and can’t wait to get home to me, every time I sit in front of him at a visit, or when he looks into my eyes and he kisses me—it fucks with me. It eats away at my conscience. But, is it enough to make me stop? It should be. I swear I had hoped, wished, it would be. But it hasn’t. Something keeps luring me right back on my knees sucking down another nigga’s dick.
I sigh, remembering a time when I used to be so obsessed with being a good dick sucker that I used to practice sucking on a dildo. I had bought myself a nice black, seven-inch dildo at an adult bookstore when I was barely twenty. At first, it was a little uncomfortable. My eyes would water and I’d gag as the head hit the back of my throat. But, I didn’t give up. I was determined to become a dick-swallowing pro. Diligently, I kept practicing every night before I went to bed until I was finally able to deep throat that rubber cock balls deep. Then I purchased an eight-inch, and practiced religiously until I was able to swallow it too. Before long, I was able to move up to a nine inch, then ten. And once I had them mastered, it was then, that I knew for certain I was ready to move on to the real thing. And I’ve been sucking dick ever since.
Funny thing, I’ve always prided myself on being a phenomenal head giver; on knowing how to take care of a man’s dick—to not only suck it, but to make love to it. To slob it because I love it; because I adore it. There’s something about slobbering all over a dick, twirling my tongue all over it—its slit slick with sweet precum, gliding my lips and mouth up and down its length, engulfing it—that makes my pussy wet.
The only difference is, back then I only sucked my boyfriends, men I loved; men who I wanted to be with. But now…now, I’m sucking a bunch of faceless, nameless men; men who I care nothing about. Men I have no emotional connection to. And that within itself makes what I’m doing that more dirty. I know this. Still—as filthy and as raunchy and trifling as it is, it excites me. It entices me. And it keeps me wanting more.
As crazy as this will sound, when I’m down on my knees, or leaned over in a nigga’s lap with a mouthful of dick while he’s driving—it’s not him I’m sucking, it’s not his balls I’m wetting. It’s Jasper’s dick. It’s Jasper’s balls. It’s Jasper’s moans I hear. It’s Jasper’s hands I feel wrapped in my hair, holding the back of my neck. It’s Jasper stretching my neck. Not any other nigga. I close my eyes, and pretend. I make believe them other niggas don’t exist.
The dinging alerts me I have new Yahoo messages. I sit back in front of my screen, take a deep breath. Eight emails. I click on the first one:
Great ad! Good looking married man here: 42, 5’9”, 7 cut, medium thick. Looking for a discreet, kinky woman who likes to eat and play with nice, big sweaty balls, lick in my musty crotch, and chew on my foreskin while I kick back. Can’t host.
I frown, disgusted. What the fuck?! I think, clicking DELETE.
I go onto the second email:
Hey baby, looking for a generous woman who likes to suck and get fucked in the back of her throa
t. I’m seven-inches cut, and I like the feel of a tight-ass throat gripping my dick when I nut. I’m 5’9, about 168lbs, average build, dark-skinned. I’m a dominate brotha so I would like to meet a submissive woman. I’m disease free and HIV negative. Hope you are, too. Hit me back.
Generous? Submissive? “Nigga, puhleeze,” I sigh aloud, rolling my eyes. Delete.
I open the next three, and want to vomit. They are mostly crude, or ridiculous; particularly this one:
Hi. I’m a clean, cool, horny, married Italian guy. I’m also well hung ’n thick. I’d love to put on my wife’s g-string, maybe even her thigh-highs, and let you suck me off through her panties, then pull out my thick, hot cock and give me good oral. I’m 6’2”, 180lbs, good shape. Don’t worry. I’m a straight man, but behind closed doors I love wearing my wife’s panties and getting oral. I hope this interests you.
I suck my teeth. “No motherfucker, it doesn’t!” Delete. What the fuck I look like sucking a nigga who wears woman’s panties? Straight man, my ass! Bitch, you a Miss Honey! I think, opening up the sixth email.
Yo, lookin’ for a bitch who enjoys suckin’ all kinds of cock. Hood nigga here, lookin’ to tear a throat up. Not beat to hear whinin’ ’bout achin’ jaws and not wantin’ a muhfucka to nut in her mouth. I’m lookin’ to unzip, fuck a throat, then nut ’n bounce. If u wit’ it, holla back. Delete.
Ugh! The one downside of putting out sex ads on the internet, you never know what you’re going to get. It’s hit or miss. Sometimes you luck up and get exactly what you’re looking for. But most times you get shit even a dog wouldn’t want. Truth be told, there’s a bunch of nasty-ass kooks online. And judging by these emails, I’m already convinced tonight’s going to be a bust. Try to convince myself that it’s a sign that it’s not meant to be, not tonight anyway; maybe not ever again.