that I can dip out, drop down low, then be back home and in my bed by midnight. But judging by the way things are looking, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be the case.
I head downstairs to the kitchen to get a bottle of Dasani water. For some reason I’m feeling dehydrated. I take a few gulps, then set the bottle down on the counter as my iPhone rings. I glance at the screen, rolling my eyes. It’s Jasper’s cousin, Stax—well, Monty. Stax is his nickname ’cause he’s six-feet-six and chiseled down. And word has it he’s walking with a third leg and a set of balls the size of two juicy plums. Every chick down at the shop has been drooling over him for years, except for me. Personally, as fine as he is, I’ve never looked at him sexually. He’s cool as hell, but the way he leers at me whenever he comes around tells me he’s definitely been looking at me
“Hey, Stax,” I answer, sitting at the kitchen table.
“What’s good wit’ you, ma?”
“Nothing much; chilling. How’ve you been?”
“I’m chillin’, baby girl. You know how I do.”
“I heard that. So, what’s up?”
“You goin’ down to see Jasp this weekend?”
“Yeah, on Sunday. Why?”
“That’s wassup. I was hopin’ to hop a ride wit’ you. My whip is in the shop ’til Monday, but I wanna get down there to see my fam, feel me? It’s been a minute since I’ve seen ’im, so I wanna go down and holla at the kid. I spoke to ’im earlier today and told him I was gonna holla at you to see if it was aiight. He said it wouldn’t be a problem, but you know I wanted to make sure wit’ you, first, feel me? I got you on all the gas and tolls.”
I take a long swig of water, then swallow hard. Now why the fuck can’t he ride down with one of his boys, or his brother, instead of trying to ride with me? The last thing I want to do is be on a two-and-a-half-hour road trip with Stax. My God, that’s five hours up and back. I mean, damn…what the hell are we supposed to talk about all that time cooped up in a car together? When I take that long ass ride down to Bridgeton in Cumberland County to see Jasper, I like to take it alone. I hook up my iPod, play my beats, and ride that stretch of road like there’s no tomorrow. And if I feel like stopping into AC on my way back to do a little gambling, meeting up with some dick that I’ve set up the night before, or do nothing at all except bring my black ass home—I can.
“That’s fine,” I finally say, reluctantly.
“That’s wassup. Which visit you goin’ to?”
Now he should know there’s no way I’d ever go on the first visit. Registration is from eight to ten in the morning which means I’d have to be up and out of the house by six. Not hardly. This diva needs as much sleep as possible. “The second one,” I tell him, getting up from the table, tossing my empty bottle of water into the trash, then turning out the light. I check to make sure the front door is locked, already knowing it is, before setting the alarm, then heading back upstairs to check for any new emails. “Since registration starts at twelve, I’d like to be on the road no later than nine-thirty.”
“Oh, aiight. That’s cool.”
I sit in front of my computer. I have six new emails. “Okay, I’ll be at your place around nine-fifteen.”
“Aiight, see you then.”
“Good night,” I say before disconnecting the call, then eagerly clicking open the first email. It’s from Mr. Seven-And-A-Half.
I type back:
It’s already going on eleven-thirty. I hop in the shower to do a quick rinse, then brush my teeth and tongue, followed by a Listerine swish and gargle before putting on a pair of Baby Phat jeans and an orange hooded pullover. I try to be as inconspicuous as possible, careful not to wear anything too flashy or over the top. I pull my orange fitted down over my eyes, grab my keys, then head down the stairs and out the door.
“Damn, ma, you fine as hell,” Mr. Seven-And-A-Half says when I open the door of his burgundy Lexus GX470 and climb in.
I smile, licking my bottom lip. “And you’re not so bad looking yourself,” I tell him, downplaying his looks. But the nigga is extra F-I-N-E. He’s the color of milk chocolate and has the nerve to have hazel eyes. “Let me feel that dick,” I say, reaching over and grabbing at his sweats. I rub his crotch, and feel his dick stiffen. He leans his seat all the way back, putting his right arm up over the back of the passenger headrest. “I’m gonna suck this real good for you.”
“Oh yeah,” he says in a low, husky voice. “Show me.”
I tell him to lift up his shirt. He does, revealing a wave of tight, rippled abs with a patch of hair around his navel. I lick his stomach, groping his growing hard-on before sticking my hand down in the waistband of his sweats, then fishing out his dick. He doesn’t have on any underwear, and I’m impressed with what I feel. It’s hot and heavy and thicker than it looked in his picture.
“I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” I say, running my tongue up and down the backside of it, cupping his heavy balls, then slowly swirling my tongue around the head and over the slit.
He lets out a low moan.
I lap it nice and slow. Suck it lovingly; kiss it soothingly before opening my mouth, unlatching my jaws, and taking him all the way into my hot, hungry mouth. The head of his dick hits the back of my throat. I swallow. Let him block my airway and feel the snugness of my throat while licking his balls. My eyes water but there’s no gagging going on. I bob my head up and down as he thrusts his hips upward. Spit dribbles down around his balls. I pull his dick from out of my throat, then start sucking and jerking him off simultaneously.
He moans again, starts shifting in his seat. “Aaah, shiiit…uh…damn, ma…ohhh, fuck…Gotdamn, baby…you know howta suck some dick…. Uh…fuck…you ’bout to make me nut…”
I pick up speed, sucking and slurping and making popping sounds with my mouth. Loving the way his rock- hard cock feels in my hands, in my mouth, down in my throat. I suck him as if my life depends on it for survival. Lick him as if he’s a dripping ice cream cone. Pop him as if he’s the sweet sticky treat inside of a Charms lollipop. I alternate from throating him to sucking him to jerking and sucking him to licking him to throating him all over again until he hums and moans and chants and grabs the back of my head, palming it like a basketball, bouncing it up and down on his shaft.
“…I’m…uh…gettin’…oh, shiiiiit…ready…mmm, fuck…to…yeah, baby…uhhhh…”
I pull up off his dick and rapidly start jerking him off, twirling my hand over the head of his spit-covered cock. “Let me see you bust this fat dick…you liked that deep throat?”
