Daddy Long Stroke

“Why you say that?”

“’Cause ever since I gave you some pussy, you acting like you ain’t beat.”

Uh, that’s’cause I ain’t. The bitch’s pussy don’t stay wet ’nough for me. I mean, the shit’s big and can fit this dick up in it, but it’s not gushy. A muhfucka like me likes a real juicy pussy sloshin’ my dick up when I’m strokin’ it. Not that dry shit she be servin’ up. The last time I fucked her, it felt like I had my dick wrapped in sandpaper. Had my shit raw for two days. But I know her dumb ass is feenin’ for some more of this dick. And I know if I slay her ass just right, she’s gonna be comin’ up offa them child support checks. The ho got four kids by three different muhfuckas. And I bet the bitch think I’ma be her next baby daddy. She already actin’ like she wanna get this dick naked. “Nah, baby, it ain’t nuthin’ like that. I been kinda stressed lately. Gotta lot on my plate ’n shit.”

“Well, I still wanna see you.”

Damn, I tell this ho that I been kinda stressed, and her selfish ass ain’t even ask if a muhfucka’s okay ’n shit. Didn’t think to ask if there’s anything her dumb-ass can do. All she worried ’bout is how she can get at this dick. And then muhfuckas wonder why I drag these bitches. “Oh, you miss me, huh?”

“Something like that.”

I laugh. “Yeah, whatever.” On some real shit, I can never understand why bitches gotta play. Hell, if you miss a muhfucka, just say it. What’s so hard ’bout that? Geesh! “You know you miss this dick,” I tell her.

She sucks her teeth. “And so what if I do?”

“Then say the shit. If you miss this dick, say you miss it, baby. It’s all good. Daddy ain’t goin’ nowhere, you dig? I’ma come through and feed you this Snickers bar real soon. And it’s loaded wit’ a buncha hot creamy nuts just for you, aiight?”

“When?”

See. Wit’ a ho like Shavron I gotta ration out this dick to keep her ass from gettin’ sprung the fuck out. So when I finally break this dick off in her sandbag pussy again, she’ll ’preciate it. Otherwise, she could become a fuckin’ headache, real quick. Besides, I never give a ho this dick when she wants it. It’s when I think she deserves it. You want this good nut, then you need to earn it, feel me?

“Well,” I say, glancin’ over my shoulder to make sure Vita isn’t comin’ back into the room. “I’m outta town ’til next week. And when I get back, you know it’s my birthday the followin’ week so I’m tryna get right.”

“I know. And I wanna spend it with you. I’m not gonna have the kids, so make sure you make some time to get right with me, too. I got something for you.”

Aye, yo, I know I just told this bitch my birthday’s in two weeks. And I know I told Vita my birthday was on Saturday. Well, peep this shit out. A nigga like me has about fifty different birthdays throughout the year. Hell, I can barely keep up wit’ ’em. But they damn sure keep the gifts flowin’; dig what I’m sayin’?

“Oh, word? You copped me that new Xbox 360 joint?”

“Yeah, I got you that, and something else.”

I grin. “Oh, yeah? And does that sumthin’ else come wit’ a side dish of hot pussy?”

She laughs. I roll my eyes up in my head. “Yep, and a slow, wet dick suck.”

“That’s wassup,” I say, openin’ and closin’ my legs. I feel my dick startin’ to come alive. “Tell big daddy how you gonna wet this dick.”

“Well…” Vita steps up in my space carryin’ a tray wit’ a bottle of Dannon water, and a drink for herself. I take the water, then put my finga up for her to give me a minute. She sits ’cross from me, sippin’ her drink, waitin’. “… I’ma kiss the head of it, twirl my tongue all around it, then I’ma suck and lick all over your balls, one at a time, then slowly pull ’em both into my mouth while jerking you off.”

I cut my eye over at Vita. Slowly open and close my legs, tryna pinch down the swellin’ in my boxers. She’s actin’ like she’s busy goin’ through CDs, frontin’ like she’s not listenin’ to my conversation. She downs her drink, then goes back into the kitchen.

Shavron makes slurpin’ noises into the phone, bringin’ me back to the conversation. She got my shit slowly brickin’ up. And listenin’ to this ho got me ready to beat sumthin’ up. But before I ever consider givin’ this bitch another dose of this dick, I make a mental note to buy her some K-Y Jelly lubricant, Wet, Astroglide, or some other shit to help wet her ass up. I pull my cell from my ear and glance at the time. Damn. I’ve been bullshittin’ wit’ this freak for almost fifteen minutes. I guess it’s kinda fucked up that I’m still talkin’ wit’ this chick instead of vibin’ wit’ Minnie Mouse.

Vita returns wit’ a bottle of Patron and a small bowl of sliced limes. I watch her pour herself another drink, squeeze in one of the limes, then downs it. She pours another one, downs it. Oh, shit, I think. This lil’ bitch’s a real lush. I peep her eyein’ me as she walks by goin’ into her sittin’ room-slash-office. She closes the door, then a few minutes later comes back out, and goes into the kitchen.

“Listen, baby. I gotta bounce. I’ll hit you up when I get home.”

She sucks her teeth. “That’s real fucked up. I wasn’t fin—”

I hang up, cuttin’ her off as Vita wobbles back into the room, then sits down. She’s fumblin’ through CDs again. The bitch can’t seem to sit her ass still. She acts like she got an assful of bugs crawin’ and bitin’ up in her. She keeps gettin’ up and goin’ from one room to the other. I frown, wonderin’ if this ho is ADHD or some shit.

“Dig, baby,” I say, lookin’ at her as she sits back in the chair ’cross from me. “Sorry ’bout that.”

She shrugs, twistin’ her face up. “It musta been pretty important for you to stay on the phone for almost twenty minutes when you supposed to be chilling with me.”

Oh, shit. This bitch got the nerve to be actin’ jealous. I raise my brow, but say nuthin’. Yo, fuck her! Aiight, aiight…yeah, I know it was straight-up rude. Oh, muthafuckin’ well. She stares at me. Picks up her drink, then gulps it down. “The way you were whispering I thought it mighta been somebody else, like your girl or something. It sounded like you were having a very intimate conversation. Is she somebody you deal with?”

I think. Catch myself from gettin’ at her neck for tryna check for me. Nigga, stay focused. I open my water and take a long drink. I need a muthafuckin’ blunt!

“Why?”

She shrugs, pourin’ herself another drink. “Just asking.”

“Yo, check this out,” I say, leanin’ forward in my seat. “I’m solo, all day, e’ery day. I don’t have a girl. And I don’t answer to one. So I fuck who I wanna fuck, smell me? But if I did have a chick, make no mistake, I wouldn’t be sittin’ here wit’ you. Dig what I’m sayin’?”

She nods. “I hear you. So, have you ever cheated?”

I frown. “Why?”

She shrugs again. “Just curious.”

Now, on some real shit, a nigga ain’t really ever been in a serious relationship, so technically, I’ve never cheated. But fuckin’ a string a bitches? You already know! “Nah, can’t say that I have.”

“That’s good. I hate men who cheat.”

And I hate bitches who can’t suck a dick. She goes to pour herself another drink. Damn, that’s like her fourth drink in less than an hour. “Damn, ma, what you tryna do, get drunk or sumthin’?”

“No. Not really. I just wanna enjoy my vacation and get nice. I hope you don’t mind.”

As long as ya ass don’t start stumblin’ and throwin’ up, I don’t give a fuck. “Nah, baby, do you.” I take her in. She has big-ass brown eyes that kinda make her look like a ladybug. Other than that, she ain’t really a bad-lookin’ chick. I mean, I can fuck her face forward. Hol’ up, don’t get shit twisted. She ain’t ever gonna be Halle Berry, or a Beyonce, but she’s a far cry from bein’ an orangutan. And, although she ain’t no beauty queen, she can still get fucked wit’ the lights on. And I’ll even give her ass some tongue. Besides, the bitch got some big, juicy dick suckas I’m dyin’ to feel wrapped ’round this dick.

I lean all the way back in my seat, stretchin’ my arm out over the top of the sofa. “Yo, baby doll, why you sittin’ way over there? Come sit closer to me so we can get better acquainted.”

She grins, gettin’ up like she’s happy to finally get some attention from a nigga. She puts a few CDs in the CD player, then presses Play. I watch her waddle back over wit’ her drink in her hand as Usher’s “Trading Places” plays. Her tiny nipples poke out like Skittles in her pink and white T-shirt. She slows her steps, and sways her hips to the beat. I smirk. Wait for her to take her seat beside me. I lean in. Sniff, sniff again. She smells like vanilla and