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I know what I want.
And I know what I like.
My women straight.
Still, my niggahs stay tryna clown a muhfucka for prowling the straight clubs for my next victim, my next conquest. My next good fuck of the night. Shit, I love sex. And I love fucking straight chicks. It’s like a hunting game to me. To see how far I can go without being clocked, which is usually hard to do since I look like a straight-up niggah.
Real rap, yo. I’m that pretty boy type with mad swag.
Six-pack on deck. Tight, toned body. Spinning waves. Deep dimples. Smooth baby face.
I’m a chick magnet.
And I stay getting pussy, yo. Stay baggin’ them sexy-ass dimes. A’ight, a’ight, real spit. I haven’t bagged a bitch in a minute ’cause I ain’t out shopping like that. But when I was baggin’?’em they’ve always been badder than a muhfucka. All tens, hands down! But that was then. And this is now. And right not, the only thing on the menu is me tryna fuck.
Still, my peeps think I need to fall back from chasing these straight broads. They think I’m crazy for not wanting to link up with a broad on my own level for some relationship-type shit, instead of wasting my time tryna bag a chick who’s only gonna put the brakes on shit once she finds out who—or should I say, what—I really am. But, for real for real, gay chicks ain’t what I’m checkin’ for. And I ain’t looking to be booed up.
And the truth of the matter is, I ain’t looking for love.
I’m looking for one-night stands.
I’m looking for good pussy.
Unsuspecting pussy.
And lots of it. Something I ain’t never had a problem getting. Like I said, my dick and this long tongue stay wet. And I got the text messages, voice messages, and panties to prove it. Yeah, maybe it’s a psychological thing, a mind thing. Shit, a’ight. It is mental for me. But fucking straight pussy is the best kinda pussy there is.
And, hands down, I know this sexy mama right here working the dance floor got that goodie-goodie. I can tell by the way she seductively moves those round hips, the way she’s thrusting her pelvis into the music, that she knows how to ride a dick. And so far I ain’t been wrong at spotting that good pussy.
Yo, I’m feeling good as fuck. The four shots and two beers I’ve already tossed back got me right. Fuck what ya heard. I’m ready to get it in.
The DJ slips on Rihanna’s “Pour It Up.” I bounce my head as I watch baby girl slowly spin around, raising her hands up over her head, then dropping down low. She bounces and rocks her hips. My dick throbs between my legs. This sexy-dime got my mouth watering, yo. I toss back the rest of my beer, then set the empty bottle up on the ledge. It’s time to make my move.
I inch my way over to her and sidle up on her. Her back is turned so she doesn’t see me as I place my hands on her hips and press up on her ass. I rock to the beat in sync to her movements. She cranes her neck to see who’s up on her, then smiles. That grin on her face and the way she tosses her phat-ass up in my crotch tells me all I need. She’s with it. Well, me dancing with her, that is. Fucking her might take a little more work. Or maybe not…
She spins around. “You sure you ready for me?” she says over the music, eyeing me up and down, then spinning back around, grinding and bouncing that thing-thing up on my dick.
For the last three Saturday nights, I’ve hopped in my whip and driven into the city to hit up this spot, Club Sensations—a straight club that plays hip-hop on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and house and club music on Sunday nights. And each time I’ve come through, she’s been here. On the dance floor, seducing the muhfuckas who’ve been eye-fucking her. Instead of tryna press up on her, I’ve stayed in the cut, eyeing her, watching how she moves. Solo, it seems. Mad niggahs stay tryna press up on her, but from what I’ve peeped, so far, she doesn’t seem to give ’em too much airplay. Yeah, she dances with ’em. And I’ve peeped her at the bar, grinning and smiling while she runs their pockets on drinks. But then she keeps it movin’. And even after the club, when the lights flick open and it’s finally “Last Call for Alcohol,” she bounces out the door, hops in her black-on-black Range Rover with the Jersey tags and tinted windows and peels off. Yo, I ain’t gonna front, I had to really check myself from tailin’ her fine ass home. Not that I’m some psycho-type muhfucka who stalks a bitch, but, uh…I was tempted.
But, tonight, temptation has taken over me, and now a muhfucka’s ready to take a bite into that forbidden fruit, yo.
“Yo, I stay ready, ma,” I yell over the music.
She spins back around, facing me, slipping a leg between mine. “We’ll see.” She quickly skips back a few steps, then hops forward when the DJ starts playing a Rick Ross joint. The dance floor is straight up packed with chicks and muhfuckas getting it in, chanting and throwing their hands up. They’re all caught up in their own worlds getting their two-step and sweat on. But I ain’t really caught up watching them when I got this shorty right here practically letting me do whatever I want to her on the dance floor. Am I surprised? Yeah, sort of. But I ain’t really putting too much thought into it ’cause I know I’ma smooth muhfucka.
Right now I got her pulled into me; one arm around the front of her while my other hand is down on her thigh. Her skin is hot and mad soft, yo.
She leans back into me as more heads pack up on the dance floor. Little by little she and I keep getting pushed further and further back into the crowd until we are practically pinned up in our own little corner along a wall of mirrors.
It’s mad dark over here. And that’s my cue to see just how far this hot tamale is willing to let me go as we seductively sway back and forth to Rihanna’s joint, “Diamonds in the Sky.” She’s bent over, ass bouncing into me as I grind my hips into her. I slide a hand up her dress, and like I thought and hoped—she ain’t wearing drawers, not even a thong.
Yeah, she’s out here tryna get fucked tonight.
I slink my hand further up her dress until I’m touching her pussy lips. She leans forward, grabbing her ankles, giving me easier access. I stroke her wet lips, then push a finger into her. She lets me slide it all the way into her, moving her hips in a slow, seductive grind, then speeding up as I slip another finger in. Her ass clapping around my hand as her cunt pulls in and grips my fingers until I can feel the music start to vibrate through her wetness. Her pussy clamps onto my knuckles. “Blow the Whistle” starts to play and she nuts on my hand. And I feel my own nut building up inside of me.
She spins around to face me, locking her gaze onto mine. She sees what I see. Lust. Hungry need. We both wanna fuck. She grins as I taste her sticky-sweetness, licking my fingers on the sly as we keep our pace to the music. I grin back at her. “You like that?” she asks, slipping a thigh in between mine and grinding on my leg. Her hands go up my muscular arm to my biceps, then back down to my forearms.
I lean into her ear. “What you think?”
