AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks, baby, for makin’ today real special,” I tell her, droppin’ six shoppin’ bags by the side of the sofa. “This is one of my best birthdays.”
“Awwww, it was my pleasure. And knowing that you appreciate the gesture makes it even more special.”
Yeah, she’s a keeper, for sure. Crazy or not, she’s a generous, thoughtful ho. And, in today’s economic climate, that’s what really counts. I hit her wit’ one of my award-winnin’ smiles, then lift her up into my arms, carry her upstairs, remove her clothes, then remove mine. I suck and lick her tits, plant soft kisses all over her body, then fuck e’ery inch of her tiny pussy ’til her body shakes and she breaks down and cries. And by the time I finally pack my shit to bounce, I got her walkin’ more gap-legged than she already is. And her pussy’s stretched open wide enough to fit eight inches of this dick.
13
I’m finally home—chillin’, kicked back watchin’ CNN Live, tryna get caught up wit’ what’s poppin’ wit’ my dude Barack and his whack-ass opponent. I’m tellin’ you, dude got this presidential shit in the bag—hands down! He’s been waxin’ that old-ass dude’s ass in e’ery debate. That cracker can’t rock wit’ Barack, real talk. Dude might as well throw his ass in a ditch and let ’em toss the dirt down on him ’cause it’s already over for ’im. Hell, the coffin was sealed on this election the minute dude announced that Gidget look-alike as his vice president—like that was gonna help him. Fuck outta here! Obama got swagger. And it’s ’bout to be on up in the muthafuckin’ White House, ya heard?
Anyway, a nigga can’t front, it’s good to be home—word up. That lil’ stint in ATL wit’ Minnie Mouse, nah…let me stop— wit’ Vita, was aiight. I ain’t even gonna style. She’s cool peeps. Like I said before, she isn’t the hottest chick on the block, but she ain’t the ugliest either. And she ain’t broke. So what she lacks in looks, she makes up in dollars, feel me? True, she can’t handle the dick, yet. But she did try her damndest to serve up the pussy wit’ enthusiasm and greed. And, for me, an enthusiastic, greedy bitch tryna bounce the pussy up ’n down on this dick gets mad props from me. Still a muhfucka’s horny as hell and ready to fuck—now!
Who can I call? At least three dozen bitches, but I ain’t feelin’ none of ’em. I want some new pussy. That Stone Mountain cutie comes to mind. I curse under my breath for not gettin’ at her while I was in ATL. I woulda loved slidin’ up between them hips, word up. I scroll through my phone, find her number, and call. When she doesn’t pick up, I decide to leave a message—this time, then get up from the sofa and run upstairs to get my laptop from outta my office-slash-guestroom. I come back down wit’ it, ploppin’ back down on the sofa. I kick my feet up on my leather coffee table, then call Maleeka while waitin’ for the PC to boot up. I leave a message, lettin’ her know big daddy wants some pussy. My dick starts to thicken thinkin’ ’bout her big, wet pussy slurpin’ in this dick. I pull my dick outta the slit of my boxers, and stroke. I close my eyes. Imagine her ridin’ this dick broncostyle wit’ her perky titties bouncin’ up ’n down. Damn, I wanna fuck. I deepen my strokes on my dick, cup my balls wit’ my free hand, then lighty squeeze on ’em. I’m on the brink of bustin’ a quick nut when my cell rings, disruptin’ my flow. It’s Shavron. I let go of my dick. Let my nut ooze out.
What the fuck this lame bitch want? “What’s good, baby?” I say, grabbin’ a T-shirt and wipin’ my nut off my stomach and from ’round my dick and balls. I log onto BlackPlanet. I click on my Notes page. Damn, there’s seventy-eight notes. I go through ’em, deletin’ the ones I ain’t beat for. I click on the pages of the ones that pique my interest. I wanna see who these hoes are before I respond.
“You,” she says in a low voice. I’m not sure if the bitch is sad, or tryna sound sexy. “You still outta town?”
“Nah, I’m back.”
“Oh, for real? When you get back?”
“Yesterday,” I lie. Yeah, I coulda kept shit real and told this ho I got back last week, but what the fuck for? Bitches be straight lyin’ all the time. Besides, it’s none of her muthafuckin’ business when I touched the fuck down.
“Then why didn’t you call me? I thought you said you was gonna hit me up when you got back.”
Is this bitch fuckin’ serious? “Aye, yo, bit…”—I catch myself before I rip into her ass—“Listen, don’t muthafuckin’ question me. I had mad shit to handle when I got back. I got sidetracked. Shit happens. But you know I was gonna hit you up sooner or later, damn—relax, baby.”
She softens her tone. “I didn’t mean to come off like I was questioning you…” Yes the fuck you did. “It’s just that I’ve been anxious to see you, and I wanted to make sure we were still on for your birthday.”
Damn, I almost forgot I had another birthday weekend comin’ up, which means more gifts. I grin, rememberin’ the Xbox she copped me. A muhfucka changes his tone, quick. “Oh, no doubt, baby.” I need to make sure I scoop up some lube before I get at her, though. There’s no muthafuckin’ way I’ma stick my dick back up in that desert of a pussy. I might as well just go out and fuck a box of sand. “You remember all that slick shit you was talkin’ ’bout how you tryna suck this dick, right?”
“Yeah, I know what I told you. And I meant it.”
“That’s what ya mouth says,” I tease. “But we know you ain’t ready to put in no real work.”
“I was born ready,” she states, laughin’. “I don’t ever gotta get ready; thought you knew.”
Same script, different ho, I think, shakin’ my head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…I’ve heard that before.”
“And now you’re hearing it again. Only difference is, I bet them other chicks don’t love giving you head as much as I do.”
“Oh, word? What you love ’bout suckin’ on this dick?”
“Everything.”
“E’erything like what? Tell me.” She tells me how she loves the way it tastes; how big, black and beautiful it is; how strong and heavy it is; how she loves the way it pulses in her mouth and stretches her jaws and mouth open. Then she tells me how she wants my baby batter on her tongue and smeared all over her lips.
As I’m listenin’ to her, I’m readin’ and deletin’ notes, and clickin’ on members’ pages that catch my attention. I come ’cross DrSweetPussy’s page. It’s done in red and black and there’s a flick of a chick wit’ her face blacked out wearin’ a black-lace bodysuit and a pair of red stilettos. The shit is sexy as hell. Her profile says she’s fifty-five—goddamn, this bitch gotta a body like a twenty-year-old. I bet she got some good pussy, too—lives in Jersey, married and seekin’ sumthin’ on the side. I peep the outline of her nipples, then zoom in on the imprint of her pussy. She got one of them phatties fo’ sure. I imagine slidin’ this dick up in that shit. It’s been a minute since I had some seasoned, old-school pussy. Shit, the last time I fucked some aged-pussy was like eight years ago when I fucked one of my man’s moms. Yeah, I know I shoulda felt bad for rockin’ his moms’ box. But, man, listen…that old-ass ho knew how to make that shit pop, word up.
At fifty-six, Ms. Carson was one sexy-ass woman with a juicy, apple-bottom ass and big double-D titties. My dick used to feel good as hell beween them two cock knockers, word up. She had a few jelly rolls around her waist and stomach area, but she had some bangin’ pussy. She’d hit me up late at night, like ’round two or three in the mornin’ for some of this dick. I’d park my car ’round the corner, then sneak through her backyard and meet her out in the shed. She’d suck and fuck this dick for ’bout an hour or so, then stumble her hot-ass back into her house and climb back into bed wit’ her husband. I ended up smashin’ her walls for three more months before I deaded it. That greedy bitch wanted to keep guzzlin’ this dick, but she wasn’t tryna come up offa no paper. So you already know she had to go.
Damn, I bet that pussy is better now at sixty-four. Okay, DrSweetPussy, I’ma give you exactly what that fat-ass pussy needs, I think, starin’ at her page and grabbin’ at my dick. I hit her up wit’ a note, leavin’ her my email addy to holla back.
I bring my attention back to this broad I got on the phone. “So how many other niggas’ tops you spinnin’?” Not that I gotta right to be askin’, but I know she’s gonna give me an answer, anyway—even if it’s some half-truth bullshit.
“What?”
“Yo, you heard me. I asked you how many other niggas’ dicks you washin’?”
