don’t you? It’s all good. Just say the word, and I’ma serve ya sexy ass all the chocolate you desire. Daddy got enough to satisfy all of ya cravin’s.”
I suck my teeth. “Next. Nigga, puhleeze. Save that daddy shit for them birds you got cluckin’ behind you.”
“Yeah, aiight. I’ma have you cluckin’ in a minute.”
I bust out laughin’. “Oh, neeeeegro, you gotta bitch confused; never that. I’d put a bullet in ya skull, first, before you ever pluck a feather outta me. Trust.”
He starts crackin’ up. “Yo, ma, you funny as hell, word up. You must gotta thing for guns.”
I walk over to my nightstand and open the bottom drawer. I pull out my nickel-plated Colt Python. It’s a .357 Magnum wit’ the six-inch barrel and nickel finish. It’s known for its smooth trigger pull and tight cylinder lock-up. The shit is mad sexy. They stopped makin’ ’em in ’96, but I was able to cop mine from this white muhfucka who had a ’05 special order edition. I slip the barrel between my legs, then slide it over my tight slit. There’s sumthin’ ’bout holdin’ a gun that makes a bitch’s pussy come alive.
“Yeah, sumthin’ like that,” I tell ’im, layin’ back on my bed. I lay the gun on my chest. “How many bitches you guttin’?”
“A few.”
“I bet you’ll fuck anything movin’.”
He laughs. “Not wit’ the lights on.”
“Just what I thought. You fuck them crusty-feet, booga-bear hoes wit’ the ashy ankles and chipped toenails, don’t you?”
He laughs harder. “Yo, you funny as hell.”
“Funny hell. I’m straight-lacin’. You real nasty wit’ yours, nigga, ain’t you? A bitch like me can’t fuck wit’ a nigga who’s guttin’ up a buncha hood crittas.”
“Nah, ma, you got me all fucked up,” he says, tryna sound serious. “I’ma keep shit a hunnid, though. Yeah, I’ve fucked a few gorilla-faced bitches in my day. And most of ’em had some good-ass pussy. They were the type to let a muhfucka get it in almost anyway he wanted. From garglin’ my balls to lickin’ the shit outta my ass, most of them hoes aim to please. But good pussy or not, I fucked ’em from the back and wit’ the room pitch black.”
I start laughin’. “Ohmigod, nigga, you comical as hell. So what makes you think a bitch like me would wanna fuck wit’ a nigga like you?”
“’Cause I’m e’erything ya body needs. And e’erything you crave.”
“Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”
“A nigga wit’ a strong back, strong hands, long dick and a long, wet tongue.”
I pinch my left nipple. I decide to fuck wit’ ’im. “You eat pussy?”
“Hell yeah, I eat pussy. Eat ass, too. I like it all. Besides beatin’ up the guts, pussy eatin’ is my thing.”
“You suckin’ dick, too?”
“Say what?”
“You heard me, nigga. I asked if you takin’ dick? You said you liked it all.”
“Hell fuckin’ no! I ain’t that kinda muhfucka. I’m a pussy-lovin’ nigga. I like it
“Yeah, right. You probably one’a them DL, homo-thug muhfuckas,” I say, laughin’. “If you take it in the ass ’n throat, it’s all gravy, Miss Hunnneeeee. We can swap stories.”
He laughs. “Yo, word up, ma. You funny bad. I’m all man, baby.”
I grin. “Ohhhhkaaaay, if you say so.”
“Nah, I know so. Don’t get shit twisted. But you can think what you want, feel me?”
“Let me stop fuckin’ wit’ you.”
“It’s all good.”
“So, what’s that tongue game like?”
He laughs. “Oh, so now you wanna know how a muhfucka wets the pussy.”
“Yup. Tell me how you get down on the pussy to make it pop. Entice me, muhfucka.” I pinch both my nipples, then slide my left hand between my legs, while slippin’ the tip of my Colt in my mouth wit’ my other hand. I slowly suck on the barrel as he speaks.
“First, I’d kiss on the pussy. From soft, gentle kisses to deep, tongue-probin’ French-kissin’, I love havin’ my tongue and lips all up on it, and in it. Next, I’ll lay my tongue flat up against it, then flap it up and down, draggin’ it along the front and back of ya slit. I’ll use my mouth and tongue to stimulate all the sensitive areas of ya pussy and clit, circlin’ my tongue all over and ’round it. Suckin’ on the sweet pussy lips. See. I listen to what makes a broad moan, and know when to change it up to give her that ultimate tongue experience. Now ya turn.”
“
He laughs. “Damn, that’s too bad. But I wasn’t talkin’ bout that. You throatin’?”
“Nope,” I lie, then bust out laughin’. “Yeah, nigga, I suck dick. Who ain’t wettin’ dick in two-thousand-and- ten? And I’ll eat the nut outta it, too, if it’s a nigga I’m dealin’ wit’. Any bitch who ain’t suckin’ dick ain’t keepin’ no man. Not for long, anyway. A bitch can definitely bubble up if her throat game is right, believe that. Have a nigga sellin’ his moms ’n shit for another round of that bobble action.”
“Oh, shit,” he says, laughin’. “I like how you kickin’ that shit. That’s what it is. So, when we gonna get each other off?”
“Sorry to pop ya bubble,” I say, flippin’ the script on his ass. “But this pussy ain’t on the market. And trust me, nigga, you ain’t even gonna sniff my shit ’til you take a bitch out and start spendin’ sum’a that paper ya slick- ass collectin’.”
He cracks up. “Yo, ma. You think you got’a muhfucka all pegged, don’t you?”
“I told you, I know ya kind. And you the type to have a buncha dizzy bitches lacin’ ya ass. Now tell me I’m dead-ass and I’ll let you skull-fuck me right now. And don’t try ’n clown. Keep that shit live.”
“You know what,” he says, chucklin’. “You gotta lotta shit wit’ you, real talk. But I dig it.”
“And you still ain’t answer the question,” I say, laughin’.
“Where you at right now?”
“Yeah, that’s right change the subject, muhfucka.”
He chuckles. “Nah, I wanna know where you at.”
“Why?”
“Maybe a muhfucka’s tryna see you,” he says, dippin’ his voice real low ’n sexy.
“Nigga, puhleeze. You tryna stalk a bitch. That’s all that is.”
He laughs. “Negative. Never that, baby.”
“See, there you go wit’ that
“My bad, ma. I can’t help myself. I wanna make you my baby.”
I grunt. Ugh, gag me.”
“I wanna do that, too,” he says, laughin’.
I suck my teeth. “Nigga, puhleeze.”
“So, you gonna tell me where you at, or what?” Why I tell ’em is beyond me. But I do. “Oh, word? That’s wassup. So am I. What part?”
“Sausalito,” I tell ’im, then ask ’im where in Cali he’s at. He says LA. Then I ask ’im what he’s doin’ there and he tells me he’s chillin’ wit’ his peeps. I laugh. “Unh-huh. I bet. Ya’ll fuckin’ and she’s lacin’ you, right?” He laughs. “Just what I thought.”
“So where’s Salsa-lito at?”
“It’s Sau-sa-lee-toe. And it’s in the San Francisco area, right on the other side’a the bridge, why? You tryna take a road trip?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Impress me, punk,” I tease.
“Yeah, I got ya punk aiight. Yo, you need to stop frontin’ and let a muhfucka really get to know you.”
Another call beeps through. It’s Chanel’s ass again. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But for now, ya times up. My girl’s on the other line, so I’m out.”
“Damn, ma. It’s like that?”
