Daddy Long Stroke

what it was wit’ you from the gate?”

She looks at me. “Do you want the truth?”

What the fuck you think, bitch? I nod. “Yeah.”

“As fine as you are, would you still have come out here to see me if I told you the truth? And be honest.”

I think, do I lie or keep it real? For the right price, hell yeah, ho! “Nah, I probably wouldn’t.” She looks at me, raises a brow. “Aiight, hell no.”

She gives me a smile. “Exactly. Look, I apologize for not being up front with you. I was wrong for that. But I’m not gonna apologize for wanting to spend time with you, or for wanting to lie in your arms. I like you. I know I don’t really know you, but after all of our phone conversations and email exchanges, I feel an emotional connection to you.”

Lie in my arms? Emotional connection? What the fuck?! Cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo. This bitch talkin’ like she’s one screw from crazy. “Dig, baby, I don’t know if you notice or not, but I’ma big man. Wouldn’t you rather fuck wit’ a little nigga instead of a cat who’s almost three times ya height?”

She shakes her head. “Those aren’t the kind of men I’m attracted to. I like a man I can climb up on and crawl all over, the taller the better. I like it when a man lifts me up and props me up on his dick. I might be a little woman, but I got a big sex drive.”

Let me find out this bitch can fuck all night. “Oh, is that so? Well, that’s what ya mouth says.”

“That’s what I know. So, do you have a problem with what you see, or do I need to drop you off somewhere else?”

Not at the moment. I lick my lips, lean over and kiss her, slippin’ my tongue deep into her mouth. The bitch gotta mouth like a furnace, and I immediately imagine my dick up in it. She sucks on my tongue as I reach for her lil’ right titty. Her nipple is hard as a pebble. I massage it over her shirt. She moans. I can smell her pussy juices simmerin’. And I wanna marinate this dick in it. “Nah,” I say, lookin’ her in the eyes. I kiss her again. “I’m right where I wanna be. Now let’s hurry up and get to ya spot ’fore I end up fuckin’ ya fine ass in the backseat of ya truck.”

She giggles. Silly-ass bitch, I think, grinnin’ at her. She backs outta her parkin’ space, then heads east onto Interstate 285 toward Decatur. My cell rings. I pull it from my hip and peep the number. It’s my nigga Mike. “Dig, ma. Excuse me for one minute, I say, pressin’ TALK. “Yo, my nigga.”

“Alley Cat, what’s good, nigga?”

“Shit. What’s good wit’ you?”

“You already know. We rollin’ out to Diva’s Lounge in Montclair later tonight. You down?”

“Nah, my dude, can’t. I’m outta town.”

He laughs. “Prowlin’?”

“Nigga, you know how I do.”

“Do you, my dude. When you comin’ back?”

As soon as I run through this bitch’s purse. I glance over at Minnie Mouse. When she looks over at me, I wink at her, lickin’ my lips. She smiles. “In a week or so.”

“Aiight. Hit me up when you get in.”

“Most def.”

“Oh, before I forget. You still down for All-Star in February?”

“Damn, I almost forgot about that shit. Where’s it gonna be again?”

“Phoenix, nigga,” he says, laughin’. “Ya ass can’t remember shit.”

“Whatever, nigga,” I say, laughin’ wit’ him.

“Just let me know how much the shit’s gonna run us.”

“Aiight, lata.”

“One,” I say, endin’ the call. I look over at Vita. Watch her maneuver her way through traffic. On some real shit, I’m impressed wit’ her road skills. Still, she reminds me of Mrs. Potato Head. I unzip my jeans, then pull my dick through the slit of my Polo boxer briefs. She snaps her neck in my direction, and glances at my dick. “You think you can handle this?” I ask, slowly strokin’ it.

She shifts her eyes from me to the road, then back to my dick, then back to the road in front of her. “Are you kidding? Of course I can handle that.” She glances at this snake again. I grin, knowin’ damn well she’s gonna change her tune the minute this sleepin’ giant awakens. She tries to keep her eyes on the road.

“You sure ’bout that?”

She doesn’t answer the question. I smile, continue stretchin’ my dick out. “Why you sitting there playing with your dick, teasing me?”

“’Cause I want you to see exactly what you gonna be gettin’ all week before we get to ya spot.” I continue to jerk it until it gets long and thick. She does a double-take, and her eyes pop open.

“Oh, shit,” she says, swervin’ from one lane to the other.

I laugh. “Damn, this dick got you tryna run off the road ’n shit. Relax, baby. Ain’t no need to try ’n kill us. I ain’t gonna hurt you wit’ this pipe. But if you scared, say you scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she says. “Look at me. I’ve been faced with plenty of challenges all my life, and I’ve overcome all of them.”

I laugh. “Oh, so you see takin’ this dick as a challenge, huh?”

“No. I see it more as an adventure.”

“Adventure, eh?” I grin. “Yo, I like that. So, you gonna handle this dick?”

She swallows hard. “Umm, I’m gonna sure do my best. It’s been a long time. Just make sure you take it slow, and not try to ram it in me.”

“Oh, not to worry, baby,” I say, pumpin’ my dick in my hand. When I’m finished wit’ ya dumb ass, you gonna be runnin’ ’round in the middle of the day wit’ a flashlight in ya hand, lookin’ for some more of this dick. I stop myself from spittin’ all over her dashboard and windshield, wait for my dick to go down, then stuff it back in my boxers. I zip my pants up. “I got nuthin’ but time. I’ma inch this long dick up in you nice ’n slow.”

10

Yo, e’erything up in this chick’s spot is top-of-the-line shit. Word up. I peep the Sony fifty-two-inch flat-screen wit’ Bose surround sound and the Italian leather sofa set. Her spot is clean and smells fresh. I guess I expected her ass to live in a dollhouse wit’ a buncha tiny-ass furniture ’n shit. But, I gotta give it to her, chick got some flava.

After she takes her shoes off at the door, she gives me the grand tour of the downstairs, then upstairs. I take it all in, really impressed. When she’s done showin’ me around, I follow her back down the stairs, watchin’ how she maneuvers herself down each step, slidin’ down one step at a time. For some reason, I feel like scoopin’ her up under my arm like a puppy and walkin’ her ass down, but I check myself. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice, or I have something a little stronger, if you like.”

I hear Jamie Foxx’s “Blame It” in my head. A nigga like me ain’t never had to blame shit I do on alcohol, feel me? Fuck that “I was drunk” shit. If I fuck a bitch, I’m dickin’ her knowin’ exactly what I’m doin’ and who I’m doin’ it to. “I don’t drink,” I say, takin’ a seat on the sofa. “You got any bottled water?”

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable while I get it. I hope you don’t mind if I fix myself a cocktail. It’s my vacation, and I like to get nice whenever I can.”

“Do you, baby,” I say, sittin’ back on the sofa. She goes off into the kitchen, and I hear cabinets openin’ and closin’ and a buncha stirrin’ ’round. My cell rings. It’s Shavron. Another Myspace freak I met ’bout six months ago. The last time I hit her wit’ some dick was a few weeks ago, and the bitch’s been sweatin’ me for another fix. “Yo, baby, what’s good wit’ you?” I ask, lowerin’ my voice so Minnie Mouse doesn’t hear.

“When I’ma see you?” she asks, soundin’ like she got a lil’ attitude or some shit. “Seems like you tryna avoid me or something.” I grin. Yeah, this bitch’s real tight wit’ a muhfucka.