Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

“Gotdaaaaamn, you nasty, baby. You suckin’ da fuck outta this dick. Fuck, yo.” His leg starts shakin’. I reach up and start squeezin’ his smooth muscular ass wit’ my hands, swallowin’ his dick balls deep, like only a true dick suckin’ bitch can. This muhfucka’s big-ass dick got my eyes waterin’, but I keep on rockin’ his top. My clit throbs for his tongue on it.

“Damn, nice, big, pretty lips…”—I continue slurping and sucking and gulping him—“…slap them lips with it, baby…” I give the muhfucka the throat work just how he wants it. Let the nigga beat up the tonsils. “…aaaaah fuck…bounce that shit on ya wet tongue…yeah, ohhh, shiiiit…suck that shit, baby…take it all the way down in ya throat…suck on that muthafucka…”

I increase the suction, rapidly bobbin’ my head. All this cock washin’ has my pussy achin’ and wet and horny for a dose of dick rammed deep in it. His knees start to buckle as he lets out a loud moan and grunt.

I pull up off’a his dick and start jackin’ it, lappin’ at his balls. Yeah, muhfucka…I’ma fuck the shit outta this big-ass dick, nigga. You gotta bitch’s pussy blazin’…you wanna sink ya dick in da fire, nigga?”

“Yeah, baby…ohhh, fuck…” I slip his dick back into my mouth and let ’im knock my throat back. I breathe in, extend my tongue, then let the nigga stretch my neck out. A few minutes later, the nigga starts shakin’ as his nut gushes outta his dick. I smile, knowin’ a bitch’s throat skills are mad crazy and can put any porn-star bitch to shame. Say what you want. Bottom line, I’m that bitch!

TWO DAYS LATER, WE’RE IN THE CITY WALKIN’ THROUGH TIMES Square. As usual, it’s mad packed out here. The energy and all the niggas in the streets makes my pussy hot. I feel like tossin’ my hair in the breeze and poppin’ these ass cheeks real extra while I strut. But I don’t. Alex is all up on’a bitch like he owns ’er. He grabs my hand, slippin’ his fingas through mine. I ain’t gonna front. I’m diggin’ the attention.

We just finished seein’ the musical Fela! on Broadway. And the shit was fiiiyah. Crazy thing, this was my first time eva goin’ to a show. Concerts, yeah; but a musical…who woulda thought a bitch would enjoy some shit like that. But I did.

“Yo, ma…lookin’ good,” some young nigga hustlin’ a CD says as we walk by. I grin at ’im. A few minutes later, anotha muhfucka says the same thing. I grin again.

“Damn, my man, you gotta real beauty right there. She’s definitely a keeper,” a dark-skinned muhfucka says to Alex. He smiles and nods at the nigga like he’s all proud ’n shit to have me on his arm. I act like I don’t peep the shit. But the nigga’s walkin’ wit’ his chest all puffed out like he’s the muthafuckin’ man.

As we walk down the blocks toward 44th and Broadway, most of the niggas cut they eyes at me, or make it obvious they tryna get my attention, but I don’t pay the shit no mind. Of course Alex peeps the shit tryna act like he feelin’ some kinda way ’bout all the attention muhfuckas givin’ a bitch. Shit, ain’t my fault I’m so damn fine. Hell, I ain’t payin’ the hoes who are snappin’ they necks peepin’ his ass no mind. I already know the nigga looks good. He wraps his arm ’round me like he’s my man. I let ’im get it, though. The nigga can front if he want. I can tell his ass is diggin’ the attention, too.

“Damn, these muhfuckas all over my baby,” he says as he kisses me on the side of my head. “I need to get ya fine-ass up outta here.”

I smirk, teasin’ ’im. “Maybe you shoulda been walkin’ wit’ a booga bitch instead of a buttery bitch like me.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I don’t wanna have’ta go in anyone’s mouth; that’s all.”

“Oh, puhleeze. Let me find out you jealous,” I say, laughin’.

“Nah, ain’t nuthin’, yo. I’m sayin’, though. Niggas real extra tryna holla at you, that’s all.”

“Boy, stop…you don’t hear me sayin’ shit ’bout them hoes I peeped eye-fuckin’ you.”

“I ain’t beat for none’a them. But you know what. I want muhfuckas to see what they can’t have.”

I laugh. “Oh Lawwd. Here you go. And what makes you think you can have me?”

“Yo, don’t front. I already got you. You just need to admit it.”

“Wrong answer. You only fuckin’ me. You don’t have me.”

“Yeah, whatever. Go ’head wit’ that dumb shit. You already know what it is.”

I smirk, shakin’ my head. “What I know is when you walkin’ the strip wit’ a fine-ass bitch like me on ya arm, you gotta ’xpect muhfuckas gonna look and say what they say. Now if that’s gonna be too much for you to handle, then maybe you might need’a downgrade.”

“Downgrade hell. Fuck outta here.” He pulls me into ’im tighter. “I already know my baby’s a problem.”

I suck my teeth. “See, here we go wit’ this ‘baby’ shit, again.”

When we finally get to Virgil’s restaurant, he holds open the door for me. “Yup-yup; so get used to it.”

I walk in. “Whateva. I ain’t tryna hear that shit. You need’a hurry up and feed me. I’m hungry.”

“Yo, I got you. This here’s only da appetizers, so it should hold you over ’til we get back to da crib.”

I look up at ’im, smirkin’. “Oh really? And then what?”

He grins, leanin’ into my ear. “I’ma feed you this big-ass dick.”

I roll my eyes, followin’ behind ’im and the maitre d’ to our table. But, trust and believe. Him whisperin’ that shit in my ear done got a bitch’s pussy poppin’. Nasty muhfucka!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ice on my neck, wrists and hands…Hermes Birkin bag draped on my arm…diamond stilettos on my feet…don’t be mislead… I’m from the hood, baby…shit ain’t sweet…do me wrong… end up dead…

For some reason, a nervous energy fills me as I walk through the funeral home’s doors. I have no intentions of sittin’ through this bitch’s funeral service, but I thought it only right to make an appearance at ’er viewin’. I peep the ivory casket up at the front of the room and the few flower arrangements, then glance ’round the room to see who’s here. Not many. Most of my cousins are here; some I’m cool wit’, othas I don’t give’a fuck ’bout. My grandmother is sittin’ up in the first pew, Patrice is on one side’a ’er and Rosa’s oldest son, Arturo, is on the otha side. They are both huggin’ ’er, tryna console ’er. Elise is standin’ up at the casket wit’ Rosa’s youngest son, Javier. They are all cryin’.

I take a deep breath. Oversized black Dior glasses on my face and chunky diamonds in my lobes, a bitch struts down the aisle toward Rosa’s casket in a sexy black, long-sleeved Diane von Furstenberg silk beaded wrap dress wit’ plungin’ neckline and a slick-ass pair of Jimmy Choo double-banded, five-inch shimmerin’ booties. My Hermes bag hangs in the crook of my arm. Yeah, a bitch is bringin’ it high-fashion—and overdressed. So da fuck what! Any chance I get, I’m servin’ it to these hoes. Besides, the only ho who I knew would be tryna bring it is Patrice, so a bitch had’a be two steps flyer than ’er even if I was only makin’ a brief appearance.

The closer I get to the casket, the louder e’eryone’s cryin’ gets. Elise reaches into the casket and lays ’er hand on top of Rosa’s, then grips it. She kisses Rosa on the forehead, then starts hollerin’ and grippin’ the side of the caskets all broken up. Poor thing, I think, makin’ my way to the front of the room. I watch as Javier helps ’er back to ’er seat. Arturo scoots down so she can sit on the otha side’a ’er mother.

All eyes are on me as I stand at the casket, starin’ down at Rosa. I lift my shades up ova my head. Oh well. It didn’t have’ta be like this, Sweetie. All you had’a do was stay in ya lane. But nooooooooo, ya crackhead ass wanted to get funky wit’ it and try ’n bring it to a bitch. Now look at you. All boxed ’n ready to go. I feel like spittin’ in ya face, ho, and knockin’ you otta that casket for havin’ me have’ta body ya dumb-ass. All you had’a do was fall da fuck back. Oh well. Rest in peace, ho.

As I turn to walk off, Arturo comes up to me and gives me a big hug. “Hey, cuz, glad you came.”

I hug ’im back. I haven’t seen ’im in over four years. I take ’im in. He’s ova six-feet tall wit’ bronze-colored skin wit’ jet-black curly hair and almond-shaped eyes. The nigga’s all grown up and fine as fuck. “Sorry ’bout what happened to ya moms,” I say, tryna sound as sincere as I possibly can.

“Yeah, it’s all fucked up. If I ever find out who did this to ’er it’s on, feel me?”

I nod, peepin’ my grandmother starin’ me down. The old ho is burnin’ a hole through me. I roll my eyes.