Daddy Long Stroke

I pull off my shirt, kick off my jeans, step outta my boxers, then walk back over to the bed. “How much cash you got on you?” I ask, rollin’ another condom over my dick, then pullin’ her legs up over my shoulders. I slide my dick back in her.

She gasps, then whispers, “Oh, shit…goddamn…how much you need, baby?”

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 that. 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.