Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

“C’mon, ma. You already know what it is.” He grabs at his dick.

“Pull ya dick out. Let’a bitch see how you hangin’.” He unties the drawstring, then stands up and pulls the front of his sweats down and pulls his dick outta his Polo boxer briefs. It’s black as coal, long ’n thick. I fight to keep my mouth from waterin’. Keep remindin’ myself of how ugly this muhfucka is. Bitch, you know you wanna touch da shit.

Fuck all’a his ugliness, seein’ this nigga’s monster cock has a bitch on fire. I toss ’im my panties. “Nigga, I wanna watch.” I sit my ass back in my seat, cross my legs, pinchin’ the swellin’ in my clit. And wait for the freak show to begin. “Stroke that shit, muhfucka…”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Pussy steamin’…asshole sizzlin’…gotta nigga’s dick drizzlin’… ooey, gooey…nut, nut…muhfucka moanin’ ’n groanin’…long tongue gotta bitch creamin’…turnin’ it up like a dick-hungry slut…

“Lay back, muhfucka,” I snap, pushin’ Alex back on the bed, then rollin’ a condom down on his dick wit’ my mouth. I climb up on top of ’im, then reach under and guide his dick into my wet slit. A bitch’s pussy’s been on fire from watchin’ Cash’s ugly-ass stroke his long, black donkey-kong cock in my silk panties. I had always heard the nigga’s dick was outta control, but to see it up close ’n personal…mmmph. That muhfucka’s dick is siiiiiick! And the thought of crackin’ his skull while he beat his dick made a bitch’s hole pop. I left up outta there wit’ my pussy lips stickin’ to my clit. A bitch wanted some dick. So I hit this nigga up.

I gallop up ’n down on his dick, then sit all the way down on it, rockin’ back ’n forth, grindin’ my clit against his pubic hairs.

He looks up at me; his eyes half-slits. I know a bitch got this nigga’s head spinnin’. “Damn, ma…you throwin’ the pussy on me. What’s up wit’ that?”

I grunt. “Nigga, don’t be askin’ a buncha questions…” I grunt, again, coverin’ his mouth. “Keep ya mouth shut and let me fuck this dick.”

He looks at me shocked, thrustin’ his hips upward, jabbin’ my pussy wit’ his chocolate cock. I toss my head back, shut my eyes. Cash’s face pops in my head.

Black muhfucka…you wanna fuck this pussy?

I let out a moan. Cash’s cock flashes in my head.

You wanna pump ya dick down in this wet throat?

I moan again, creamin’ all ova Alex’s dick.

“Daaaaam, baby…fuck…aaaah, shit…ya pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, ma…ohhhhh, shiiiit…aaaah, fuck…”

Alex grabs me by the ass, pulls open my cheeks. I lean forward, stop movin’ and let ’im punch my pussy up wit’ his dick as he rapidly thrusts upward.

“Ohhh, yes…beat my pussy up, muhfucka…yeah, yeah, yeah… right there…right there…I’m gettin’ ready to nut all ova that dick…”

A bitch’s in a sexual zone. My steamy pussy’s grabbin’ the nigga’s dick.

Cash’s face flashes through my thoughts. I buck ’n bounce up ’n down. Pull a titty into my mouth, lickin’ my nipple.

Cash’s is swingin’ his dick at me; strokin’ it and grinnin’ at me. I can feel my nut buildin’; feel it bubblin’ up from my asshole to my clit.

“I’ll slice ya muthafuckin’ dick off ’n ram it in ya ass…fuck you rough ’n hard deep in that fat, black ass of yours, nigga…a bitch’ll put a bullet in ya dome, muhfucka…”

I don’t hear or see shit. Just Cash and his fat anaconda-cock spurtin’ out a buncha dick milk. “Yeah, black, crusty muhfucka… bust that nut, nigga…I’ma split ya shit, muhfucka…”

It’s not ’til Alex flips me off’a ’im that I realize my hands have been ’round his throat, and my nails into his skin. “Yo, what da fuck was you doin’? You was on some real extra shit tryna choke a muhfucka out ’n shit. What da fuck you into, ma?”

“Oh shit…I-I-I’m so sorry. I got caught up in a role-play fantasy,” I lie.

He frowns. “Role play? That shit sounded like you was tryna take a muhfucka’s manhood, talkin’ ’bout cuttin’ off a nigga’s shit ’n rammin’ it in his ass and all kinda crazy shit like that. What’s really good wit’ you, ma? A muhfucka needs to know what kinda shit you in to?”

Fuck, shit…goddamn it! Bitch you gotta be more aware what comes outta ya mouth, I think, tryna explain my way outta the situation. I apologize again. Tell ’im that I got so caught up in how good his dick was feelin’ that I got lost in a zone; that his stroke game has a bitch comin’ outta character.

I kiss the fresh scars on his neck caused by my nails. Lucky for ’im his scratches aren’t as deep or as long as the ones I put on Tone. On some real shit, I feel bad for clawin’ this nigga up.

“I really apologize,” I say again, rollin’ back on top of ’im. His dick is still hard, stretchin’ the condom to full capacity. I can tell the muhfucka’s ready to explode; ready to spurt out a bucket of hot creamy nut. I reach underneath me, grab it and squeeze. “How can I make it up to you?” I kiss ’im lightly on the lips, then his neck, again. “Tell me how I can make it all betta.”

He grins. “You really wanna make it up to me?”

This sexy muhfucka, I think, noddin’. Bitch, keep it cute. You already know what it is wit’ this nigga.

He pulls off the condom, tosses it ova onto the floor.

I raise up, frownin’. “Muhfucka, I know you don’t think I’ma ’bout to let you run ya dick in me raw.”

He laughs, pullin’ me into his arms. “Nah, chill, ma. Ain’t nobody tryna go naked in you. I want you to lay in my arms; that’s it. Let a muhfucka hold you, aiight?”

He wraps his arms ’round me, and I lay my head on his chest, closin’ my eyes. I inhale his manly scent. It’s a mixture of sweat and cologne. He strokes my hair. And on some real shit, a bitch’s surprised at how good it feels to be in his arms, listenin’ to his heartbeat. Sumthin’ ’bout its rhythmic beat is calmin’.

Bitch, how da fuck you get here, goin’ from iggin’ this nigga to lyin’ in his arms?

Why da fuck you keep fuckin’ wit’ his ass when you know he ain’t no fuckin’ good?

“Yo, tell me ’bout ya life,” Alex says, disruptin’ the questions runnin’ through my head.

I look up at ’im. “’Scuse me?”

He repeats himself. “I wanna know how you grew up. Tell me ’bout ya fam.”

“There’s nuthin’ much to tell. Born in Brooklyn, raised in da projects, bred in da streets; pops in prison, moms dead. No brothas, no sistas. A bitch is solo.”

“I can dig it. Damn, sorry to hear ’bout ya moms, though.”

“Don’t be. She was already dead a long time ago.”

He strokes my hair. “Drugs?”

I shake my head, sighin’. “No-good niggas.” I’m relieved he doesn’t ask me to elaborate. He keeps strokin’ my hair. And it relaxes me. Bitch, keep it cute. Cut this nigga off now ’fore ya ass gets too caught up in his shit.

He holds me tighter, kisses me on the side of my head. The nigga is showin’ me the kinda affection a bitch craves. I swallow back emotions I ain’t tryna deal wit’. I lift my head from off’a his chest. Stare at ’im. He smiles. “Wassup, ma? You good?”

“Why you insist on fuckin’ wit’ me?”

“I ain’t tryna fuck wit’ you. I dig you; real talk.”

“How many otha bitches you diggin’? And keep shit a hunnid.”

“At this moment…only you.”

I smirk, rollin’ my eyes up in my head. “Yeah, right. Tell me anything.”

“Nah, true story. You got my full attention”—he grabs his hard dick—“and as you can see in more ways than