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I grin, pumpin’ this dick deeper into her. I stick my tongue in her ear, then whisper, “I need five hunnid, ma.”
She squeezes my ass, pullin’ me into her. “Mmmph…aaah… ooooh…oh, shit…ohhhkaaaay, baby . . .”
3
I can’t believe it’s almost seven in the fuckin’ mornin’, and I’m racin’ down the Turnpike tryna get back to Jersey so I can take a long, hot shower, then jump my ass in the bed. A nigga’s beat. Word up. I yawn, flippin’ open my cell. Ah, shit. Sixty-two missed calls, ten messages—all from Tamera’s nutty-ass. I retrieve my messages, deletin’ ’em wit’out listenin’ to them shits. I know I need to call this ho. But I gotta have my mind right, first, before fuckin’ wit’ her dramatic ass. I can’t stand a bitch who gotta make a production outta e’ery goddamn thing—yellin’ ’n screamin’ and cursin’ ’bout stupid shit, feel me? And that’s exactly how Tamera gets down.
I reach into my ashtray and pull out a half-smoked Dutch. I spark it, take a hit, then hold the smoke in my lungs before slowly blowin’ it out. I switch the cell’s ringer from QUIET to NORMAL, tossin’ the phone over on the passenger seat. On some real shit, though, I had no intentions of keepin’ this bitch’s Acura coupe out all night. I just planned to run up to Connecticut, fuck ole girl real quick, then swing back through and hit Tamera off wit’ some of this good lovin’. But shit didn’t go down like t
hat. On the way, I stopped off in Brooklyn to give my peoples Electra—this little Dominican and black chick—her weekly feedin’, and scoop up a few dollars from her ass. Yo, this sexy-ass broad is a true dick washer. I swear this ho gotta clit in her throat. I never seen a chick nut the way she does by just suckin’ a nigga’s dick. Her throat game is wicked. I ended up stayin’ almost two hours with her, lettin’ her spit shine this nozzle, and gargle up these balls. And as an extra treat, I dicked her down nice ’n slow—after she hit me off wit’ some paper, of course—wit’ eight inches of this dick ’cause that’s all she can take. But she loves this good shit. And she has no problem linin’ a nigga’s pockets wit’ paper she gets from some other nigga she’s fuckin’. By the time I bounced from her spot—wit’ three Benjamins in pocket—it was already three o’clock.
I finish my blunt, then spark another one, takin’ three hits before reachin’ for my cell. I flip it open. Take a deep breath, and dial, knowin’ this ho is ’bout to fuck up my high. Watch.
“Hello?!” she snaps, soundin’ all wired up ’n shit.
“Yo, what’s good?” I ask all cool, calm and collected.
“Yo, what’s good?!? Motherfucker, WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GODDAMN CAR?! I’ve been calling you all motherfucking day and night. You got me running around all over town looking for your black ass, calling hospitals ’n shit, thinking your goddamn ass was somewhere dead. And you got the fucking nerve to call here all nonchalant like shit’s good. Nigga, you really fucked up! You knew I had to go to fucking work yesterday. You lucky I didn’t call the police on ya black ass. That was a real bullshit-ass stunt you pulled, nigga. But trust and believe. You will never get your ass behind my motherfucking steering wheel again.”
“Aye, yo, what the fuck? Why the hell you spazzin’ ’n shit?
“Nigga, I’m spazzin’ ’cause you had my goddamn, motherfucking car out all fucking night. And didn’t even have the motherfucking decency to call me or answer your goddamn phone.”
I sigh. “You know I was gonna bring ya shit back to you, so why the fuck you actin’ like I was tryna house you for it?”
“Motherfucker, you was supposed to bring me my shit back yesterday afternoon, not the next MOTHERFUCKING morning! And why didn’t you answer your goddamn phone?”
I frown. “Aye, yo, don’t fuckin’ question me. I didn’t answer it, ’cause I didn’t fuckin’ want to—”
“Nigga, I know you not tryna get cocky. I’ll question you all the fuck I want when you out with my goddamn car, all fucking night. Bitch-ass nigga, you done bumped your motherfucking head, talking that ‘don’t question me’ bullshit. You got the wrong one.”
And this is exactly why I ain’t beat for bein’ in no relationship, especially wit’ no loud, mouthy-ass bitch. I sigh, takin’ a long, deep pull from my blunt, then blowin’ it out. This ugly bitch actin’ like I put a gun to her skull, then strong-armed her for her keys. No. What a nigga did was slam this dick up in her guts, stick a finger in her asshole and suck all over them big-ass titties of hers. And when I was done, she practically tossed them muthafuckas at me.
“…And I know you didn’t have no other bitch in my mother-fucking shit, either. I knew I shoulda never fucked with your sorry, black ass. You ain’t shit, nigga. For real! I want my fucking car, NOW! And you better bring my shit back to me with a full tank of gas.”
“Or what?”
“Nigga, you’ll see.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, takin’ another big-ass pull to the head. Who the fuck this bitch think she is tellin’ me what the fuck I better do? Now, you already know she done fucked up, right? I pull the phone away from my ear, allow her to continue her bullshit-ass tirade. She’s talkin’ so fast that she starts to sound like one of the muthafuckin’ chipmunks. But, on some real shit, I…DON’T… GIVE. A. FUCK. I press End, then flip my phone shut. She calls back. I let it go into voicemail. And now, the bitch is gettin’ real belligerent wit’ it, callin’ back to back to back. I turn the shit off.
When I finally get to exit 136 off the Garden State Parkway, I open my cell, turn the shit back on, then hit Akina up. She’s this half-Japanese, half-black hottie I’ve been fuckin’ for a minute. And the chick’s sittin’ on paper from money her grandparents left her when they died. Plus, her moms is a big-time criminal lawyer and her pops is a doctor, so chick wants for nuthin’, feel me? Man, listen…this bitch is fiyah, fo’ sho. And the best thing is she’s a certified ass-lickin’, ball-suckin’, cum-gulpin’ freak wit’ one of them basketball booties you can palm and smack ’round all night. She’s flat-chested as hell, but the ho gotta deep, wet pussy that slurps up the dick and gushes like a waterfall.
“Heeey, baby,” she coos into the phone.
“What’s good, ma?”
“You, and all that pretty dick. When am I gonna see you? We miss you, boo.”
“Oh, word? And who’s we?”
“Me and this wet pussy.” She giggles. “Where you been? I called you three times yesterday.”
I take another toke from my blunt. “I had a family emergency. Why, you need some dick?”
“And you already know,” she says, soundin’ all sexy ’n shit. “Is everything okay with your family?”
I sigh into the phone, frontin’ like a nigga’s all down and whatnot. “Yeah, I hope so. But, I don’t really wanna talk about it, right now.”
