Daddy Long Stroke

“…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.”

“Baby, I understand. Just know I’m here for you if you need me.”

“Thanks, I ’preciate that. Listen, I do need you to do me a favor, though.”

“Just tell me what it is, you know I got you.”

I grin, makin’ a left onto Raritan Avenue. “I need you to pick me up in Linden, then drop me off home.”

“Just tell me when and where, and I’m there.” I tell her where to pick me up, and what time to be there, then hang up. Fifteen minutes later, I finish smokin’ the rest of my blunt, turnin’ up into Tamera’s apartment complex. I make sure I don’t leave anything in her shit before puttin’ her keys in the glove compartment. I get out, lockin’ the fuckin’ doors. That’s for talkin’ shit, bitch, I think, slammin’ the door shut. I walk to the corner, and ten minutes later, Akina whips around the block in her forest-green 2007 745i, lookin’ fly as hell in her fresh Versace shades.

She unlocks the doors, and I slide in. “What’s the deal, baby girl?” I ask, closin’ the door, then leanin’ over and givin’ her some tongue action. “You ready to fuck?”

“All damn day,” she says, runnin’ her hand along my thigh, then grabbin’ at my dick.

“Then let’s roll,” I say, flippin’ open my cell, and callin’ Tamera’s ass back. When she picks up, I say, “Aye, yo, I parked ya shit.”

“Where, motherfucker?”

“In ya muthafuckin’ parkin’ lot.”

“Well, where are my goddamn keys, nigga?”

“I put ’em in ya glove compartment.”

“Nigga, are you serious? Why the fuck would you leave my motherfuckin’ keys in the car, with my doors unlocked so mother-fuckers can be all up in my shit?”

“I locked the doors, ya dumb-ass,” I snap, shuttin’ the power off, then flippin’ my phone shut. “Stupid bitch.”

Akina glances over at me. “You aiight, baby?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I answer, adjustin’ my seat, then reclinin’ it all the way back. “But, I’ll be even better”—I unzip my pants, then fish out my Johnson—“when you get on this dick.”

She grins, reachin’ over and grabbin’ it. She licks her lips. “Oooh, damn, daddy, it feels good in my hand.”

“And it’s gonna feel even better in ya mouth.”

She laughs, puttin’ her hand back on the steerin’ wheel. “You so conceited and nasty, it’s a damn shame.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I laugh, strokin’ my dick. “Yo, you had breakfast, yet?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Why, you wanna stop and get something?’

“Nah, I wanna bust this nut real quick. Pull over somewhere and let me feed you ya mornin’ shake.”