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Don’t answer that shit. You already know. She thinks I’m layin’ up in the crib all day scratchin’ my balls ‘n’ shit; doin’ nothin’. Yeah, aiight. That’s a buncha bullshit, yo.
Yeah, aiight. Maybe she’s right. I could try’n keep the crib a lil’ cleaner. And, aiight, yeah…I can at least have dinner cooked for her. But damn. I’m like, fall back. Shit’s stressful enough. She acts like I don’t know the light ‘n’ cable bills gotta get paid ‘n’ our two kids gotta eat.
Shit. I wouldn’t be in this fucked-up situation—unemployed and all fucked up—now, if that stupid, flat-assed bitch with the big-ass titties hadn’t come up in my line with a cartload of shit, poppin’ shit ’cause I wasn’t movin’ the line fast enough for her ghetto ass. She lucky I had already smoked a blunt before I got up in that muhfucka or I woulda probably knocked her dumb, snaggletooth ass out.
But I checked her ass. And the bitch tried to turn up. Then came back with some cornball-ass nigga, like that was supposed to mean something.
So when he came at me, like he was tryna put that fist work in, I took off my apron ‘n’ knuckled up.
Yeah, we got to fightin’ up in that muhfucka. But I didn’t start the shit. I cracked the nigga’s jaw ‘n’ finished it, then went back to checkin’ out my customers.
Still, I got fired.
And, since I wasn’t workin’ there long enough to collect unemployment, I was assed out. Luckily I had a few dollars saved. But that shit only lasted for a minute. And the bills still keep coming in.
I’ve been out here looking for work like crazy for the last five months. But muhfuckas ain’t hiring. Or maybe they just
ain’t hiring me.
• • •
“Okay, here you go,” dude says, bringing me outta my thoughts. He hands me a crisp Benjamin.
“Aiight, cool,” I say, stuffing the bill in my pocket. I glance at my watch. It’s a little after ten in the morning. And I gotta be at my next destination two towns over between twelve, twelve-thirty. “So where we doin’ this?”
“Right here. On my bed.”
He points to a king-size, four-poster bed. Probably the same one he lays up in wit’ his wife. But that shit ain’t my worry. So let me take this dump ‘n’ get the fuck on.
In the center of the bed is a large white pad ‘n’ some white towels.
Dude takes off his robe, then crawls up on the bed, propping up on his forearms. He’s wearing a skimpy pair of white satiny bikini briefs.
I pull off my hoodie. Then turn my back to him ‘n’ kick off my boots, before stepping outta my sweats ‘n’ drawz.
He groans. “Oh, God, you have a beautiful ass. I would love to have my face shove up in it.”
My jaw muscles tighten. “Yo, dude, you gonna need to keep them ass comments to ya’self. I don’t need to hear that shit.”
Yo, focus, nigga. Get this paper ‘n’ get the fuck up outta here.
Dude offers an apology. Tells me no disrespect meant.
“Turn around,” he says. “Let me see you.”
I take a deep breath. Then face him ‘n’ the muhfucka’s eyes bug out. I ain’t gonna front. I know my body’s right. Muscled and tatted with a long dick. So it is what it is. That’s what I have’ta keep telling myself while I’m standin’ here butt-ass naked in the middle of this muhfucka’s bedroom.
“I want you to put your boots back on. Then climb up on the bed.”
I stuff my feet back into my Timbs, then swagger over to him, lettin’ the muhfucka get an eyeful of this dick. I’m good wit’ him lookin’ at it as long as he ain’t tryna touch it.
He licks his lips. Goes in about how big my dick is. But I ig the shit. I know it’s big. I climb up on the bed, then squat over him.
“Yo, where you want me to shit on you?”
“On my stomach. No, no, over my cock.”
I frown, tryin’ not to look down at his dick strainin’ against his lil’ panty-like drawz. This muhfucka’s real outta control.
