by Cairo
And the truth of the matter is, I ain’t looking for love.
I’m looking for one-night stands.
I’m looking for good pussy.
Unsuspecting pussy.
And lots of it. Something I ain’t never had a problem getting. Like I said, my dick and this long tongue stay wet. And I got the text messages, voice messages, and panties to prove it. Yeah, maybe it’s a psychological thing, a mind thing. Shit, a’ight. It is mental for me. But fucking straight pussy is the best kinda pussy there is.
And, hands down, I know this sexy mama right here working the dance floor got that goodie-goodie. I can tell by the way she seductively moves those round hips, the way she’s thrusting her pelvis into the music, that she knows how to ride a dick. And so far I ain’t been wrong at spotting that good pussy.
Yo, I’m feeling good as fuck. The four shots and two beers I’ve already tossed back got me right. Fuck what ya heard. I’m ready to get it in.
The DJ slips on Rihanna’s “Pour It Up.” I bounce my head as I watch baby girl slowly spin around, raising her hands up over her head, then dropping down low. She bounces and rocks her hips. My dick throbs between my legs. This sexy-dime got my mouth watering, yo. I toss back the rest of my beer, then set the empty bottle up on the ledge. It’s time to make my move.
I inch my way over to her and sidle up on her. Her back is turned so she doesn’t see me as I place my hands on her hips and press up on her ass. I rock to the beat in sync to her movements. She cranes her neck to see who’s up on her, then smiles. That grin on her face and the way she tosses her phat-ass up in my crotch tells me all I need. She’s with it. Well, me dancing with her, that is. Fucking her might take a little more work. Or maybe not…
She spins around. “You sure you ready for me?” she says over the music, eyeing me up and down, then spinning back around, grinding and bouncing that thing-thing up on my dick.
For the last three Saturday nights, I’ve hopped in my whip and driven into the city to hit up this spot, Club Sensations—a straight club that plays hip-hop on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and house and club music on Sunday nights. And each time I’ve come through, she’s been here. On the dance floor, seducing the muhfuckas who’ve been eye-fucking her. Instead of tryna press up on her, I’ve stayed in the cut, eyeing her, watching how she moves. Solo, it seems. Mad niggahs stay tryna press up on her, but from what I’ve peeped, so far, she doesn’t seem to give ’em too much airplay. Yeah, she dances with ’em. And I’ve peeped her at the bar, grinning and smiling while she runs their pockets on drinks. But then she keeps it movin’. And even after the club, when the lights flick open and it’s finally “Last Call for Alcohol,” she bounces out the door, hops in her black-on-black Range Rover with the Jersey tags and tinted windows and peels off. Yo, I ain’t gonna front, I had to really check myself from tailin’ her fine ass home. Not that I’m some psycho-type muhfucka who stalks a bitch, but, uh…I was tempted.
But, tonight, temptation has taken over me, and now a muhfucka’s ready to take a bite into that forbidden fruit, yo.
“Yo, I stay ready, ma,” I yell over the music.
She spins back around, facing me, slipping a leg between mine. “We’ll see.” She quickly skips back a few steps, then hops forward when the DJ starts playing a Rick Ross joint. The dance floor is straight up packed with chicks and muhfuckas getting it in, chanting and throwing their hands up. They’re all caught up in their own worlds getting their two-step and sweat on. But I ain’t really caught up watching them when I got this shorty right here practically letting me do whatever I want to her on the dance floor. Am I surprised? Yeah, sort of. But I ain’t really putting too much thought into it ’cause I know I’ma smooth muhfucka.
Right now I got her pulled into me; one arm around the front of her while my other hand is down on her thigh. Her skin is hot and mad soft, yo.
She leans back into me as more heads pack up on the dance floor. Little by little she and I keep getting pushed further and further back into the crowd until we are practically pinned up in our own little corner along a wall of mirrors.
It’s mad dark over here. And that’s my cue to see just how far this hot tamale is willing to let me go as we seductively sway back and forth to Rihanna’s joint, “Diamonds in the Sky.” She’s bent over, ass bouncing into me as I grind my hips into her. I slide a hand up her dress, and like I thought and hoped—she ain’t wearing drawers, not even a thong.
Yeah, she’s out here tryna get fucked tonight.
I slink my hand further up her dress until I’m touching her pussy lips. She leans forward, grabbing her ankles, giving me easier access. I stroke her wet lips, then push a finger into her. She lets me slide it all the way into her, moving her hips in a slow, seductive grind, then speeding up as I slip another finger in. Her ass clapping around my hand as her cunt pulls in and grips my fingers until I can feel the music start to vibrate through her wetness. Her pussy clamps onto my knuckles. “Blow the Whistle” starts to play and she nuts on my hand. And I feel my own nut building up inside of me.
She spins around to face me, locking her gaze onto mine. She sees what I see. Lust. Hungry need. We both wanna fuck. She grins as I taste her sticky-sweetness, licking my fingers on the sly as we keep our pace to the music. I grin back at her. “You like that?” she asks, slipping a thigh in between mine and grinding on my leg. Her hands go up my muscular arm to my biceps, then back down to my forearms.
I lean into her ear. “What you think?”
“I think you ain’t ready for it.”
“Yeah, a’ight. Whatever you say.”
“It’s what I know, baby.” She spins outta my arms, then backs her ass back up into my crotch. A Lil’ Kim joint starts playing and this sexy thing-thing starts getting all nasty with it. And all this humping and grinding is doing is making me hornier by the minute. So fucking horny that I’m ready to bust in my drawers.
I pull her into me real close, then lean into her ear. She slips a hand in back of her and starts tryna grab at my dick. I almost nut on the spot as the base of my dick presses my clit.
“Ma, real shit. You mad sexy. I wanna fuck you, yo.”
“Then fuck me,” she demands. Her bluntness shocks me at first, but it doesn’t take me long to quickly recover. It’s game on, yo. Right here in the dark corner of the club I’ma ’bout to bust her pussy open. I remove my hand from her waist, glancing around the club to see who’s peepin’ us. No one, so it’s all gravy. We ’bout to get our fuck on. I quickly unzip my jeans, then reach inside the opening of my boxers and fish my thick, eight-inch dark brown dick out—it’s smaller than the one I usually pack. But it’s still thick enough to bust her guts out. It’s smooth, not too veiny, and matches the color of my skin almost perfectly.
She tries to reach for it in back of her. She wants to stroke it, but I shove her hand away, dipping at the knees. I brush my thumb over her slit, then dip the tip of it in. She’s so wet. I grip my shit and circle her sticky lips and opening with the head. She moans over the music.
And I don’t give a fuck who hears her. This pussy is ’bout to be mine for the night. I keep teasing her slit, circling the hole of her pussy with my dick. I bring my thumb up to her mouth, circling and teasing it the same way I’m doing her cunt. She sucks it into her mouth as if she’s sucking my dick. Finally, I give in, giving her this dick. I push it into the back of her ready pussy, slowly. Then grab her hips and pull her toward me, forcing my whole dick in. I hear her gasp as Soulja Boy’s “Tear It Up” starts playing. I grind into her pussy.
“Mmmmph…fuck me!”
“This what you want?” I growl into her ear over the music. “This hard dick?”
“Yes! Fuck me!”
I grab her by the waist and ram my dick in her. She’s handling it like a pro, giving it as good as she’s getting it, humping and pumping her hips. I repeatedly bang into her pussy—tip-to-base, tearing it up, nearly lifting her off the floor with each thrust. She bu
cks her ass, pushes me back up against the mirrors and rodeo rides my dick. To the drunken club-goers we simply look like two drunken heads freakin’ each other on the dance floor, not fucking our brains out.
Still, I peep a few heads stealing glances over at us, muhfuckas tapping their boys and nodding over toward us. But I ain’t sweating that shit. The only thing I’m tryna do is get this nut. She works my dick as I work her pussy. I can feel sweat on my neck and down the center of my muscled back. Her cunt grips my dick. I can feel her coming over the music. The bass, the rhythm, the lyrics, moving through her as her body shudders. Fast and hard, I cum with her, then hold onto her waist for a few extra minutes, grinding into her gooey center. She keeps dancing on my dick.
We stay in this position for another full song, rocking back and forth, trying to catch our breaths before I finally pull out and stuff my wet, sticky dick back in my boxers, then zip my jeans up. On some real shit, if this was poppin’ off under different conditions—with her knowing who and what I really am—I’d have her sucking my dick clean. But since it ain’t that kinda party, I gotta stick ‘n’ move. She pulls down her dress, then turns toward me. She has a fresh-fuck glow on her sweaty face.
She presses her moist lips up to my ear. “That was real good.”
“No doubt. You got some good pussy, ma.”
She grins. “And you got some real good dick. I’d like to get another round. You got a name?”
“It’s Reggie.”
“I’m Nicole.”
“That’s wassup.” I grab a chunk of her ass. “Yo, check it. I’ma ’bout to dip. But let me get them digits before I bounce.” She hits me with some dumb shit ’bout not giving her number out, but she’ll take mine. Yeah, whatever. The bitch let a random muhfucka fuck her on the dance floor, but she doesn’t give out her digits. Go figure. It ain’t no biggie, though. I already got what I wanted. My dick wet. And there ain’t gonna be no second rounds. There never is. “You know what, yo. Don’t sweat it.”
I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek. She says some other shit, but I done already started blocking her out. The only thing on my mind now is getting in my whip so I can finish stroking out the rest of this nut.
She blows me a kiss, then dances off as I make my way through the crowd and out the door.
• • •
“Yo, muhfucka,” my boi Prince says, taking two pulls off the blunt we just rolled, then passing it to me, “you stay stylin’, son.”
“Nah, my niggah, real shit,” I say laughing at her. It’s a little after twelve in the afternoon. We’re chilling at my crib, smoking a blunt and eating shrimp. And I just finished telling her what popped off down at the club last night. Prince and I been mad cool for like fifteen years, around the same time we both came out to our families. I was fifteen. She was like sixteen going on seventeen.
Anyway, it wasn’t really no surprise to my fam when I tol’ ’em I was gay since I stayed rockin’ baggy jeans, Timbs and wife beaters. And my ponytail stayed stuffed up under a fitted hat. Or I stayed posted up in a pair of baggy sweats and a hoodie and sneakers. I wasn’t beat for nothin’ girly. Give me a football or a basketball over some Barbie dolls and makeup and I was good.
My moms said she already knew it. Shit. I guess even if she didn’t already know, she woulda known for sure after walking in on me and seeing me rocking a pair of men’s boxers with a seven-inch dick hanging outta the flap of them.
I had been experimenting for a minute with harnesses and dildos, and had even started wearing them to school, which is what I was preparing to do the morning my moms walked in. For weeks, I’d been alternating from jock-style to thong-style harnesses tryna decide which one was really the most comfortable fit for me. I’d like them both, for different reason. And this particular day, I’d chosen the jock-style harness under my boxers.
I was standing in front of the mirror, my gaze fixed on my reflection, upward curved dick hanging outta the slit of my boxers, my hand gripped around it. I was standing there grinding it into my hand, imagining I was fucking some pussy. I was getting juicier by the minute as I stroked my thick black dick, the harness rubbing up against my clit. My legs were cocked open as I fucked my hand. I let out a deep moan as I bust my nut.
Moms walked in on me jackin’ off. Her eyes popped open in shock. She quickly shut the door, leaving me with my silicone dick in my hand. I was mad spooked that she had caught me with my dick hanging out. She ain’t say shit ’bout what she saw as I eased outta the crib for school. The only thing she did say—well, actually it was a question—later that night when she got in from work is, “Is there something you wanna tell me?”
I shrugged at first, still embarrassed.
Then she added, “Regina, I’m going to always love you, no matter what.”
But she stayed looking at me all crazy-like until I said, “Mom, this is who I am.”
“And who are you, Regina?”
“Not Regina,” I answered, feeling myself getting choked up. I had tried to pretend, tried to cover up who I was, who I felt I was, behind awkward moments attempting to date boys and hang with giggling, silly-ass girls. But that wasn’t me. What she saw was. “Regina’s dead to me, Ma.”
She narrowed her eyes, absorbing the weight of what I had told her. “Well, if my daughter’s dead, then who the hell am I standing here looking at?”
“Reggie.”
Moms stood there, staring at me, hard. Then before I knew it, she broke down and cried, walking over and pulling me into her arms. And that night we cried together. In that moment, layers of shame and guilt for hiding who I was were shed. And for the first time in my young life, I felt lighter and free.
I didn’t have to hide in secrecy.
Didn’t have to live in shame.
My moms loved me. She accepted me.
Prince’s mom, on the other hand, wasn’t having it. She called her all kinda bull-dagging, dyke bitches and told her to get the fuck outta her crib ’cause she wasn’t having no gay bitch living up under her roof. She told Prince she needed prayer as she literally threw all her shit out the door. Prince ended up sleeping on the streets for almost two weeks until she swallowed her pride and asked if she could crash at my crib. She ain’t have nowhere else to turn. And there was no way I could turn my back on her. So I brought her home with me, asked my moms if it was cool if she stayed with us—which it was. And from that moment on, we’ve been mad tight, like brothers. Real shit, I got mad luv for her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Or her for me.
Shit, we’ve fucked mad bitches together. Even ran a few trains on a few tricks. Prince is my dawg, for life, yo.
I eye her. “Yo, you know I don’t ever front on my dick game.”
“True that. I ain’t gonna front, son. You be gettin’ it in. But, yo, fuckin’ a straight bitch in a straight club, in the middle of the dance floor…sounds like a damn dream.”
“On e’erything, fam, I fucked that sexy bitch in the club. And, word is bond, yo. She had some juicy-ass pussy, son. I was fingerin’ that shit ‘n’ e’erything, yo.”
She grins, rubbing her chin. “Word? It was like that?”
“Hellz yeah. I told you she was sexy as fuck, yo. I was all up in that shit, son. I had her up on that dance floor giving her this dick real good. Afterwards, I ain’t even gonna front. I wanted to bend her over ‘n’ tongue all up in that gushy shit.” I take a pull from the blunt. She’s looking at me wide-eyed with her jaw dropped. “I tol’ you I was gonna hit that shit, yo. Didn’t I?” I blow out a cloud of thick smoke, then take another pull.
I had told Prince about her the first night I peeped her, and was dead-ass ’bout getting at her, even though she tried to tell me I should at least let her know that I was a stud and not a real niggah if I was gonna step to her and try to get her to peel them drawers off. I wasn’t tryna hear it though. My mind was already made up. I was going back to the club and was gonna holla at her. And telling her who, or what, I was wasn’t in t
he cards. I just didn’t think I’d be fucking her in the club, on the dance floor. Yo, that was some wild-ass shit. That broad’s a real live freak. I’m still trippin’ off that shit.
Prince grins, giving me a pound. “No doubt. You def said you was gonna smash that. Yo, my niggah, you a beast, yo. Word is bond. I can’t even style on you, son.” She reaches out her balled fist for another pound. “You stay baggin’ them straight hoes.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how ya ugly ass be doin’ it, though.”
I give her the finger. “Fuck outta here, muhfucka. I’m fine as fuck, yo. Front if you want. You already know what it is, niggah.”
She laughs again. “You know I’m only fuckin’ wit’ you, yo. I know ya rap game is sick. But, real shit, fam. That shit you be doin’ trickin’ them straight chicks is…”
“Yo, hol’ up, fam, be clear. I don’t be trickin’ them chicks.” She raises a brow, shooting me a “fuck outta here” look. “Aiight, so I don’t tell ’em. It’s not like they be asking me if I’m a real niggah, or not. So why should I volunteer the info. If I can get away wit’ it, why not? It ain’t like I’m hurting anyone. Shit, they see what they see, and like what they see. And nine times outta ten they want what they see.”
“Correction, fam. They want what they think they see. A real muhfucka with a real dick that can spit a real nut, not a stud muhfucka with a strap-on frontin’.”
I shrug. “Then maybe they should ask, first.”
“Niggah, you crazy. Why the fuck would they think to ask some shit like that when you look like a straight-up muhfucka wit’ ya flat-chested ass. I hate yo’ ugly ass.”
I crack up laughing at that shit. She hates the fact that she has double-D’s, and there ain’t shit she can do to hide them muhfuckas. They ain’t going nowhere. “Yo, fuck outta here, muhfucka. Don’t hate”—I run the palm of my hands over the front of my shirt—“ ’cause my shit’s all chiseled up, and you”—I reach over and flick her right breast—“all flab, muhfucka.”