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Shit. I may have a buncha baby daddies, but at least I know who every last one of my kids’ fahvers are. I know who I let nut up in this pussy and when I let ’em do it. Unlike Lina’s ho-ass who had to pick a name outta a hat ’cause the bitch ain’t know which niggah she was fuckin’ was Candy or Clitina’s fahvers ’cause she was fuckin’ the fahver and his two sons. Sometimes they fucked her at the same time. Mmmph. Lina was a nasty bitch back in her day. Anyway, come to find out Candy was the old-ass fahver’s baby. And Clitina’s daddy is one of the sons. So they sistahs and cousins, too! Oooh, that ho was messy back then.
“Well, I know they don’t. I could see if I was a triflin’ bitch who ain’t take care of her kids, but this niggah tryna do me like I’m hot trash or somethin’.”
“Well, I ain’t wanna say nuthin’, Cass, ’cause I know how you get. But he kinda gotta point. You do be out in da clubs a lot. And you always complainin’ about how bad they asses is. Maybe it’s best Joshua go live wit’ his daddy. Look on da bright side, that’s one less child you gotta worry about feedin’ and clothin’ and hollerin’ at.”
“Bitch, ain’t no goddamn bright side to that dumb shit you talkin’. That’s my baby that motherfucka’s tryna take from me. I don’t give a goddamn how bad my kids might be, I ain’t never wanna give ’em up to no-goddamn-body. And I ain’t about to give ’em up now. And on that note, before I curse ya black ass out, eat the inside of my ass, bitch. I’m done with ya black ass.”
I disconnect. That bitch done gave me a headache. I lift myself up from the bed. I feel so weak. I wanna call Julius’s ass back and bring it to him good. But I know all he gonna do is not answer his phone or hang up on me.
I need a blunt and a good goddamn lawyer!
“I gotta get this money up,” I think, pullin’ out a blunt, then walkin’ into the bathroom to get my get my head right. I spark up, take three pulls, then start scrollin’ through my cell to see who I can call. Yeah, I got a couple of dollars I could use to pay for a lawyer, but why should I have’ta dig in my stash when all I have to do is lay on my back, or drop down on my hands ’n knees and arch this back. No. A smart bitch holds onto her change, and finds herself a niggah who’s willin’ to spend up his.
I go through my list of sponsors in my head. At the moment, I only have two. JT and Born. And JT has more money than Born. But Born won’t be on no extra shit. He’ll fuck me real good, drop them dollars, then bounce. The niggah JT is gonna wanna put more claims on me. I blow smoke up into the air, then call Born.
“Yo, wassup, ma? How you?”
“I’m okay, I guess.” I sigh, then pause. “Umm, no, I’m not. I’m all fucked up, Born. I gotta get lawyered up, boo. And I need you to finance me, if you can.”
“What you need?” Shit, I don’t know since I ain’t called around for one. But I know they pricey. I tell him ten grand. But I ain’t ’bout to give no coon ten grand for shit. I’ma find me a lawyer for under five gees, then use the rest of the money to buy Marquelle, Isaiah, and Joshua new iPhones, then get me a new MacBook and a fifty-inch flat-screen for my bedroom. But he ain’t gotta know all that. He whistles. “Daaayuuum, ma. I ain’t got ten grand. But I can prolly hit you with like thirty-five hunnid.”
I smile. “Okay, boo. Thank you. You always come through for me.”
“You know I got you, ma. You my peoples. I can have that to you tomorrow mornin’ sometime, aiight?”
“That works. And I’ma have you a dish of wet pussy for you when you do.”
He laughs. “Aiight, that’s wassup. I can always use some’a that.”
“Uh-huh. I know you can.” We talk a few minutes more. He tells me he’ll text me in the mornin’ when he’s ready to meet up, then disconnect.
I wait ’til I finish smokin’ before I call JT’s ass. Crazy or not, the niggah’s stacks are heavy, his dick is thick, and he don’t ever tell me no. But fuckin’ this devil-ass niggah and takin’ his money comes with a price. And it’s only a matter of time before the niggah tries to collect.
Twenty-Two
“Who else you givin’ this pussy to, yo?” JT asks, throwin’ me down on the bed, then pinnin’ my legs back. I don’t answer him. He rips my thong off, then slaps my pussy and clit. “Yo, you hear me fuckin’ talkin’ to you, yo? I asked you who the fuck else you fuckin’?”
Although a mixture of pain and pleasure shoot through me, I frown. This is the first time he’s ever man-handled me like this. “Niggah, I don’t answer to you and you don’t own me. I fuck who I wanna fuck.”
He rams his dick in my slit, pressin’ his right hand into my neck. He squeezes. “Yo, fuck outta here. I own this shit . . . ” He bites the side of my neck. “This pussy’s mine, Cass.” He rapidly bangs up my walls. Oooh, the dingaling feels soooo damn good. But I ain’t diggin’ him tryna choke me out.
“Get off . . . mmmph . . . my . . . uhhh . . . neck, niggah.” I dig my nails into his hand. Slap him with my free hand. This only seems to make his dick harder.
“Oh, fuck, slutty bitch . . . I own this shit, yo . . . mmmm . . . good-ass, muthafuckin’ pussy . . . aaah . . . you gonna fuck ’round . . . mmmm . . . and have me . . . uhhh . . . kill ya muhfuckin’ . . . mmmm, shitfuck . . . ass, yo . . . ”
This niggah has a nutty look in his eyes. Everything about this niggah looks crazy. But he’s fuckin’ me so damn good. I try not to moan, but he’s hittin’ my spot. He pulls his dick out as I’m skeetin’, slingin’ me over onto my stomach. My pussy juice keeps shootin’ outta me, then streaks down the inside of my thighs.
“Get on ya muhfuckin’ knees, yo.” He slaps my ass, hard. Makes it bounce ’n jiggle, then pulls my cheeks open and rams his dick back in. “I don’t want nobody else hittin’ this shit, yo.” He yanks me by hair. “You hear me, yo?”
I hold back a loud moan. “Fuck you, niggah! I do what . . . . w-want with . . . t-this . . . mmmph . . . pussy.”
I throw my hips back at him. He stops pumpin’ in and outta me. Tells me to fuck his dingaling. And I do. I give the niggah a good fuckin’. Watch him over my shoulder toss his head back, shut his eyes, and grunt. He has his hands planted up on his waist. Sweat is drippin’ down his face and chest. Shit, for the ten grand this niggah done lined my handbag with the least I can do is give him his money’s worth. The fact that—when this day with this niggah is over—I will have collected, between him and Born, over thirteen thousand dollars makes me hornier than usual. I coat his dick with my cream, makin’ my ass clap. I wanna hurry up and make this niggah nut so I can get the fuck on with my day. I wanna get down to the salon and get my hair, nails, and feet did. Then buy me some new heels and a handbag for court.
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“Fuck me in my ass,” I tell him, knowin’ he’ll nut in five minutes . . . in two if I talk real gutter-slutty. “Give it to me good, niggah. Spit in my asshole and prison fuck my ass, niggah. Show me how they do it in prison, boo.”
He reaches over and plays with my wet clit as he pounds in and outta my pussy. His sweat drips on my back. “Aaah fuck . . . mmm . . . you want me to bust ya ass open, huh? You want this big-ass dick in that phat ass? Mmmph . . . you’se a nasty freak bitch . . . ”
