by Cairo
She punches my arm. Then flexes her biceps. “But I hit hard, niggah. And, what? Point is, you still shouldn’t play games like that, yo. You know I got nothin’ but love for you, but”—she shakes her head—“that shit you doin’ is fucked up.”
I frown. “Yo, how is you gonna fuckin’ judge me, fam, when you stay trickin’ ya paper up on bitches? You don’t see me callin’ you out on how you stay tryna wife up them stripper hoes, do you?”
“I ain’t judging you, fam. All I’m sayin’ is, maybe you should keep it a hunnid wit’ ’ them broads and let ’em know from the rip what they ’bout to get into. You know and I know, them broads ain’t gonna ask if you swingin’ a real dick or not when they be all liquored up.”
I tsk. “Suck my dick, muhfuka. Liquored up or not. They still wanna fuck. And I give it to ’em. So how’s that trickin’ them?”
“Niggah, you know what I’m sayin’.”
“Muhfucka, I don’t know shit. Hand me that blunt, and let’s move on.”
She shakes her head, taking two deep pulls, then passing it off. “A’ight, yo, justify it however you want. No matter how you cut it, you still deceivin’ them, yo.”
I take a long pull from the blunt, then pass it back to her. I blow smoke up, then inhale it back in through my nose. “Nah, like I said. I ain’t deceiving anyone. What I’m doin’ is keeping my dick wet. And putting some good dick and tongue in their lives…for the night, anyway. Shit, I don’t put a gun to none of them broads’ heads, forcing them to do nothing they don’t already wanna do. So it is what it is.”
“Aiight, slick ass, riddle me this: how many of them straight broads that you’ve already smashed do you think would have still given you the pussy if they woulda known you wasn’t no real niggah?”
I shrug. “Fuck if I know. Prolly half of ’em would still let me hit it, if for nothing else, solely on the strength of being curious. You know bitches stay sweatin’ us ’cause we look like straight-up, real-ass, sexy muhfuckas.”
I’ma keep it a hunnid. If I got down with Studs like that, Prince is def someone I’d holla at. At six feet, she’s sexy as fuck. Even wit’ them big-ass titties, she’s got a mad tight body from playing ball, and stays laced in all the hot shit. And the chicks stay wanting to play all up in her long wavy hair, which she keeps in fresh cornrows.
She nods, rubbing her chin and grinning. “True, true. But the difference is, they know who we are. It ain’t no secret. We ain’t misleading them. And them broads still wanna get at us, especially the bi-curious ones. But going to a straight club, frontin’ like you a straight niggah ain’t cool, son.”
I frown, narrowing my eyes. “Yo, you already know what it is with me. So ain’t no use in you tryna beat me in the head ’bout it. You know ain’t shit changing. I’ma still do me. So you might as well save ya breath for that smoke ’cause I ain’t tryna hear it. So movin’ on, muhfucka.”
She laughs. “Yo, whatever. You still my niggah ‘n’ shit, but you know I still think that shit’s fucked up, yo. And I’ma keep sayin’ it. Real spit, son, you need to stop misleadin’ them straight broads before you end up gettin’ caught up in some crazy shit. Niggahs get bodied behind doin’ that dumb shit, yo.”
“Yo, fam, relax. I got this. Ain’t nobody gonna do shit over here, yo. You already know gettin’ shot at ain’t never pumped no fear in a muhfucka like me. You know I’ma do what I do, regardless.”
She shakes her head, reaching for the blunt. “Yeah, I know. But I still love you, wit’ ya punk-ass.”
I laugh. “Yo, fuck you, muhfucka. I got ya punk, aiight.”
She laughs with me. “Yo, you know you my, niggah, fam.”
“Yeah, right. I’m only ya niggah, greedy muhfucka, ’cause you stay tryna smoke up my shit. Pass me that blunt wit’ ya lil’-ass dick.”
She grabs her crotch. “Hahahaha, muhfucka, my shit’s bigger than yours.” She lifts her hips from her seat, pulls her sweats down over her hips, then reaches inside the opening of her striped boxers and pulls out her long chocolate dick. “Nine-inches niggah, and what?”
“Yo, son, you wildin’, yo. I ain’t tryna see all that. Put that shit away. You dead wrong, muhfucka. How ya yellow ass gonna have a dick five times darker than you?”
She gives me the finger. “Niggah, I ain’t yellow. I’m light-skinned.”
I crack up laughing. “And ya light-skinned ass still look like Big Bird, muhfucka. Hand me the blunt with ya tall, yellow ass.” She cracks up with me, taking another pull, then handing back what’s now practically a roach. We joke ‘n’ pop shit and smoke two more blunts before she gets a call from one’a her jump-offs and dips off for some pussy.
I light another blunt, smoke half of it, then start feeling kinda horny. I rub my dick over my jeans. I want some pussy, but I ain’t beat for none’a these broads around here. I pick up my cell and hit up one’a my out-of-state sidepieces, Kamisha. She’s a sexy lil chocolate dime I snatched up after a night of partying at this club in Atlanta a few months ago. She was checkin’ for me hard, diggin’ my swag and my Northern accent. And, of course, the bulge she peeped in my baggy jeans. And I was diggin’ her thick hips, tiny waist, and that big juicy ass she had stuffed inside a pair of faded jeans.
Yo, I saw it in her eyes. She wanted to fuck. And I was more than happy to serve her this dick. I got up in her ear, spit game at her, and bought her a few rounds of drinks. After three drinks in, I got her to come outside with me, where we ended up sitting in my rented SUV, talking. Then kissing. And, eventually…fucking.
Yo, I had this sexy chocolate bitch in the backseat of the truck I rented riding her ass nice and deep, her pussy around my condom-wrapped dick. Word is bond. She handled all eight inches with ease as I fucked her slowly at first, savoring the feel and warmth of her body. I bit the back of her neck as I stroked her insides, making her moan—making myself moan as the base of my dick hit my clit. She pressed her hips back to meet my thrusts as I reached around her body and pressed on her slippery clit with two fingers. She reached back and grabbed my thigh, pulling me in closer as she worked her hot pussy on my dick.
She grunted. “Oh, God, this dick is good.”
“Yeah, you like that shit?” I whispered in her ear.
“Oh, fuck, yes…nice thick dick…mmmph…”
“Yeah, you gonna nut on this dick…?”
“Yes, niggah…mmmph…make my pussy skeet…”
“Oh, you wanna talk shit, huh? You one’a them shit-talkin’ freaks, huh?” I slapped her on the ass.
“Yeah, niggah…oh, shit…motherfucker…push my guts in, niggah…”
With one hand, I pinned her wrists to her back and started ramming her. I pressed her down into the seat, pounding her harder and harder. Her pussy was as wet as a river, soaking my dick, clenching my dick, milking my dick, calling my name over and over.
“Fuck my pussy, niggah…uhh…yeah, yeah…make my pussy spit, niggah.”
Word is bond, yo, Kamisha was talking mad nasty in the back of that truck. We fucked hard, fogging up the windows. She even let me get up in that tight ass. By the time I finished gutting her insides out she climbed up outta that truck walking like she had just got fucked by a herd of horses. I tore that pussy ‘n’ ass up.
Now she’s been pressin’ me to slide back down there to hit that shit again. But I ain’t with that shit, yo. I’ma hit it ‘n’ quit it kinda muhfucka.
“Yo, what’s good, ma,” I say, I unzipping my jeans and sliding my hand down into my boxers. “How’s that fat, sweet peach doing?”
“Heeeeeey, boo,” she sings into the phone in her syrupy Southern drawl. “It’s sooo wet and juicy. You wanna taste?”
“Hellz yeah,” I say, reaching for my lube and squirting some over my dick. I glide my hand up ‘n’ down the shaft, every down stroke pushing deeper into my clit. “Word is bond, ma, I wanna lick all up in that good shit, then give you all this dick.” I stroke myself. “What kinda panties you got on?”
; “Mmmm, you making pussy tingle. I have on a black thong.”
“Oh word? Damn. I bet all that fat ass looks real sexy in them shits, too. I wanna suck on them panties, ma, while I’m hittin’ that shit from the back.”
“Mmmm. That sounds good. It’s all yours, boo. So when are you coming back to Atlanta to get some more of this wet pussy?”
Yo, real shit. I have no intentions of going back to the ATL to link up with this broad. Yeah, she’s mad sexy. Yeah, she had some good pussy. But unless she’s down for another car fuck—from the back and we happen to run into each other, she prolly won’t be getting another round of this dick. And that’s real shit, yo. I mean, shit. It ain’t like I can come out ‘n’ say, “Yo, ma…by the way that dick I fucked you real good wit’ ain’t no real dick. Oh, and another thing: ya boy ain’t no real niggah.” Nope, not gonna happen. So, nah, we definitely not linking up again.
See. Typically, when I hit up a straight club and score some pussy afterward, I ain’t pressed for exchanging the digits. But there are always exceptions to my rule, like her. So when I’m outta state—or even here in the tri-state—and I link up with a sexy bitch, like Kamisha, I usually take their numbers knowing nothing else is gonna ever pop off between us. That I ain’t gonna be checkin’ for them after I get in them drawers. But, if a chick’s from outta state, I still might hit ’er up to kick it, or—as in this case—get me a quick nut off since I dig a good phone-bone e’ery now ‘n’ then. And Kamisha’s freak-nasty ass is always down for hot, steamy phone sex.
“Soon, ma,” I lie, gripping my dick tighter in my hand. “Word is bond. I wanna bury my dick deep in that shit.”
“Oooh, I like that. Mmm. Hearing your voice always gets my pussy so wet.”
“Oh word? You dig my voice?”
“Mmhmm. It’s sexy as hell. Shit, you sexy as hell.”
I grin. “Oh word? You think a muhfucka’s sexy?”
“Mmhmm. My girls were saying how fine you was when they saw you in the club that time.” She laughs. “I had to get you before any of them did.”
“Oh word? You glad you did?”
“Yup. And I want some more of Daddy’s big dick, too.”
“And Daddy got all the dick you want. You got my shit hard as hell, ma.”
“Oooh. What you doing to it?”
“What you think? Strokin’ it, ma.” I grunt, grinding my hips up into each hand stroke. I feel my nut building up inside of me. “Yo, ma, take them panties off ‘n’ let me hear you play in that fat pussy. Let me hear you get that pussy wet, ma.”
It doesn’t take her long to get wit’ the program and start strumming her fingers over her clit, then inching them into her pussy. She starts to moan. “For real, Reggie. You need to come back to the ATL and let me get some more of that dick. It felt so good in my pussy, Daddy.”
Her Southern accent is thick with lust.
“Damn…mmmph…Daddy wants to give it to you, too. Real good. So you want some more of this big dick, huh?”
“Oooh, yes. It’s so fat. I loved the way it stretched the back of my pussy. I wish I coulda sucked it for you. Maybe next time. I ain’t never been fucked in the backseat of a truck before. That was so hot, Reggie. I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Yeah, I already know what it is. You can’t stop thinking about this dick ‘n’ how well I served them holes up wit’ it.
I grin. “That’s wassup, ma. I can’t stop thinking about you either.” Yeah I know it’s all game, but whatever. “Or that fat pussy. I wanna eat that shit, again.”
She moans. “What else you wanna do, papi?”
“I want you to sit on my face and fuck my tongue. I love eatin’ pussy, ma. And I wanna eat yours again.”
“Mmmm. I love my pussy ate. And you ate mine so good. I ain’t had a nigga eat my pussy like that in a minute, boo.”
I grin. I know my tongue game is right. And I know how’ta eat a pussy inside out. “C’mon, ma. You got my dick real hard. Stick a finger in that pussyhole for me. And tell me how wet it is.”
She moans in my ear. “Ooh, Reggie, it’s so wet and slippery. It’s like being in an ocean, waves and waves of warm juices all for you. I can’t wait for you to put your dick back in it. Is your dick out?”
I grunt as the base of my dick swiftly brushes up against my clit. “No doubt. I’m stroking my shit imagining being balls deep in your pussy. Damn, ma. I wanna fuck.”
“Mmm, me too. Stroke that big dick for me, daddy. I wish you’d send me a picture of it so I can have something to masturbate to.”
I blink. She’s sent me several pussy shots over the last few weeks, and has asked me on a few occasions to hit her wit’ some flicks of my shit. But it ain’t gonna happen.
“I really wanna see your dick, boo.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I ain’t with sending cock shots out, ma, unless you my girl, feel me? But I’ma come through and hit you with the real thing again.”
“When, Reggie? When you coming back to Atlanta to feed my pussy some more of that good dick, boo? Every time we talk you tell me you’re coming back out here, and I’m still waiting. Are you married or something?”
“Nah. I tol’ you. I’m single, ma.”
“Mmmph. Then what is it? Do I need to get a flight to come there ’cause I will?”
“Nah, you good, yo. But, dig. I ain’t tryna talk about all that right now.” I don’t know why the fuck I even called this bitch. “I’m tryna bust this nut real quick, yo.”
She sucks her teeth. “Then come out here and see me. You can bust all the nuts you want. I wanna see you, again. But if you’re not interested in spending time with me then say so.”
I sigh, letting go of my dick. Real shit, this broad done messed up my mood, for real for real. “Listen. I’ma bounce, yo. I’ll holla at you later, a’ight?”
“Wow. I’m trying to talk to you about spending some time together and ‘I’ma bounce’ is all you gotta say? Wow. I tell you what. Don’t bother. Delete my number.” The line goes dead.
I shake my head. These fuckin’ broads stay trippin’! I’m horny as shit ‘n’ that dizzy bitch wanna be on some stupid shit. I glance at my watch, then down at my lubed dick.
Fucking bitch!
• • •
10:38 P. M., it ain’t no surprise when I’m in my whip, pulling up into the crowded parking lot to this spot, Club Scandal, in Paterson. It’s my first time here so I ain’t really sure what’s gonna pop off. But some of the straight cats that I work with who’ve been here say that this spot always has some bangin’ bitches looking to get their fuck on up in there. So here I am. Hoping to get up on some cutie who’s liquored up right and horny enough to wanna fuck in the backseat of my whip, or on the side of the building.
I park. Then sit out in my whip for a minute and finish smoking my blunt. I slink down in my seat, gaping my legs open, grabbing at my dick. I get my smoke on. I’m horny as fuck. The only thing on my mind is getting this dick wet. It’s an addiction. Chasing pussy. Straight pussy. Driving up and down the highway to straight bars and clubs, hoping to bang some unsuspecting pussy. It’s a rush for me.
One I ain’t tryna let go of anytime soon.
With my blunt dangling from my lips, I peep my reflection outta the rearview mirror. Real shit, I’ma sexy muhfucka. I reach for my brush, brushing my deep waves. My hairline is piped out, crisper than a muhfucka. My barber is real sick wit’ a set of clippers, and he knows how’ta hook a niggah up right. All I need are some sideburns ‘n’ a mustache and you wouldn’t be able to tell me a muthafuckin’ thing, word up. Shit, you can’t tell me shit now. So you already know what it is. I toss my brush over in the passenger seat, finishing up my smoke. When I’m done, I flick the roach outta the window. Then pull out a bottle of Marc Jacobs from outta the glove compartment, spraying it all over me. Real shit, as much as I dig blazin’, I hate the smell of the shit in my clothes.
Let’s see if I can make thi
s shit pop tonight, I think getting outta my whip, setting the alarm, then making my way toward the club’s entrance. I smooth my hand over my crisp white Polo shirt, tucking the front of it into my pants so that the buckle of my Gucci belt can show. Yo, fuck what ya heard. A muhfucka stays fly, feel me? I cock my Brooklyn Nets fitted up on my head, snapping it to the side, then step.
Two thick-hipped shorties walk by, checking me out. They look a’ight. But definitely nothing I’d wanna fuck unless I had no other options. I mean, real shit. They not mad ugly, but they ain’t fine enough to get my dick hard either. Fuck what ya heard. I don’t give this dick to anyone. You gotta be on point in order for me to wanna fuck you.
I give ’em both head nods. “Yo, what’s good?”
They both speak, bouncing their asses mad hard in their tiny skirts. I stare at them asses. And they both got them fatties; word is bond.
Shit, niggah, what you stressin’ about how them hoes look for when all you gonna be doin’ is fuckin’ ’em from the back? I scold in my head as I stand in the line to get in.
Chicks are free before eleven. It’s after midnight. And a few bitches in back of me are poppin’ shit about getting here late. Niggahs gotta pay twenty dollars to get in. “Bitch, you stay making us late for shit,” I hear this chick say in back of me. “I swear. I knew we shoulda left ya stank-ass.”
“Oh, bitch, please. Eat a dick. You know damn well y’all heifers wasn’t leaving me no-damn-where. So shut the fuck up with them lies.”
“Girl,” I hear another chick say, “I know you ain’t even stressing over ten-goddamn-dollars when you just sent Cedric a hundred dollars to put on his books. You stupid as hell.”
Damn, I hope this spot ain’t gonna be filled wit’ a buncha ghetto-ass hood bitches. The last thing I wanna do is be someplace where a buncha bitches get to drinking ‘n’ tearing up the club if someone looks at ’em the wrong way. Although that hood pussy is good as fuck.
“Trick, don’t worry about how much I sent Cedric. That ain’t got shit to do with this bitch here making us late.”