Daddy Long Stroke

Had a muhfucka been on point I woulda heard her ass openin’ the window and climbin’ in, but I had my eyes closed enjoyin’ my lil’ hot tamale ridin’ my dick. And her horny ass was makin’ so much fuckin’ noise that I didn’t even know the chick was in my room ’til I popped open my eyes. She had the Spanish chick’s hair wrapped around her hand, and was yankin’ her offa my dick, swingin’ her ’round the room. The next thing I know, they tearin’ shit up, knockin’ my TV and stereo to the floor, swingin’ each other into walls ’n shit. Then when I tried to break ’em up, Jasmine’s retarded ass jumped on me, and started fuckin’ me up. I had to manhandle her lil’ ass, and drag her ass through the house, then shove her out the door, slammin’ the shit in her face. I went back to finish bustin’ my nut, thinkin’ that was the end of it.

Twenty minutes later, this crazy smut comes back and starts bustin’ my mom’s front windows out with a baseball bat. Now, you know a nigga was wrecked when I heard glass smashin’ ’n shit. I slipped on my boxers and ran through the house, swingin’ open the door, goin’ outside to see what the fuck was goin’ on. This nutty bitch started chasin’ me around the yard with the bat, tryna swing off on me, word up. She had my dick bouncin’ and swingin’ all ’round the yard tryna keep her ass from smashin’ my lights out. And the Spanish bitch snuck outta the bedroom window, then climbed over our backyard fence, bouncin’ on a nigga. A neighbor called the cops. And Jasmine’s psycho ass got locked the fuck up.

Needless to say, when Moms pulled up and saw her shit all busted out, she went noodles on a nigga, cursin’ and screamin’. She beat my ass so bad I thought she was gonna peel the skin offa me.

“I told your black ass about bringing all them nasty, trampy, hot-in-the-ass bitches up in my motherfucking house, didn’t I?…” Slash! Slash! Slash! She had a nigga runnin’ ’round yellin’ and screamin’ like a lil’ bitch. “…I told your motherfucking ass… No”—Slash—“bitches”—Slash—“in”—Slash—“my”—Slash— “mother”—Slash—“fucking”—Slash—“house…”

“Aaaaaah, Ma…I’m sorry…aaah…owww…”

“You just like your goddamn father, sneaky…” Slash!

“Owwww…I won’t do it again, I promise…ooooow.”

Seems like the more I apologized, and promised to not let it happen again, the angrier she got. She wasn’t tryna hear nothin’ a nigga had to say. For some reason, it felt like Moms was beatin’ my ass on the strength of all her anger toward Pops. She just snapped, it seems like. For e’ery wrong thing he ever did, it felt like she took that shit out on my ass. I know she was hurt. Hell, I would hear her cryin’ in her room sometimes. And that used to fuck me up, for real. Moms had married Pops when she was like eighteen, then had me three years later. They had been fuckin’ all through high school, and thought they were in love. They probably were. But Pops loved fuckin’ other bitches. I guess I got that shit honest. Anyway, moms knew how Pops got down before she married him. But like so many other broads, she thought she could change him, or that maybe he would change on his own. Well, he didn’t. And eventually, she got tired of beggin’, and cryin’ and arguin’ ’bout his cheatin’. She just gave up, and started creepin’ on his ass, too. They woulda probably still been together, fuckin’ behind each other’s backs if one of Pops’ hoes didn’t come to the house tryna get shit poppin’. That’s when Moms flipped the script and lit chick’s ass up, then packed Pops’ shit and put his ass out. I was thirteen.

Slash! “Nigga, ‘don’t oww, Ma’ me. You wanna fuck. You wanna get that black dick of yours sucked; then, nigga, you can’t stay up in this house. Anything your black ass wants, I get. I work two motherfucking jobs to make sure your black ass has a roof over your head, food in your stomach and high-priced clothes on your motherfucking, ungrateful-ass back, and you can’t even follow my rules. Instead, you FUCK in my house. SNEAK bitches through your window. LET one of your dizzy, whorish, hot-in-the-ass little bitches bust out SIX of my motherfucking windows.”

“I’m sorry, Ma. I’ma…”

Man, listen, I don’t know how long she was beatin’ my ass. But what I do know is, when she finally stopped, a nigga’s arms, ass ’n back was on fire, and there was blood e’erywhere. She stood in the middle of the room, heavin’ and sweatin’, and waitin’. But I was scared as fuck to move.