Daddy Long Stroke

Her slutty ass just oughta be. I get outta bed, head toward the bathroom. “Oh, word? I didn’t know she was here.”

“Well, she didn’t get back up in here until almost four o’clock this morning. I tell you, that girl loves to have a good time. She’d party all night, seven days a week, if she could.”

“Oh, word? She likes to get it in like that?”

“Unh-uh,” she says, laughin’. “That girl loves a good time.”

No, what that bitch loves is good dick. “I bet she does,” I say.

“Did you eat anything?”

“Nah.” I tell her the last thing I ate was her.

She giggles. “Well, what else would you like to eat? We can go out if you want, or I can pick up something at the store and cook.” I tell her I’d rather go out. “Okay, cool. We can go down to Atlantic Station and eat at Boneheads. It’s a nice spot and they serve a lot of grilled fish and chicken dishes.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say as I’m brushin’ my teeth. I turn on the shower. “Let me jump in the shower real quick, then we can bounce.”

“Okay. I’m gonna see if Naomi wants to come, too. Do you mind?”

I smirk. “Nah, baby, it’s all good. She seems like real cool peeps.”

“Yeah, she is. Out of all my cousins, she’s my favorite. She’ll do anything for me.”

Yeah, even freak a nigga you fuckin’ in ya bed. Tramp ass! “Sounds like you got a lotta love for her.”

She smiles wide. “I do. She’s my heart.”

Now what the fuck is a muhfucka ’posed to say after hearin’ that shit? Not a damn thing! Who am I to bust her lil’ bubble? No one, so I’ma let her keep on thinkin’ that that ho in the other room is e’erything she thinks she is. I should get this silly bitch to suck her heart’s pussy juice from ’round my balls.

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one: Haaaaaaappy New Year!” Vita shouts, raisin’ her champagne glass up in the air. She plants a juicy kiss on my lips. I part my lips and let her slip her tongue into my mouth. I squeeze her fat ass, then slip my hand up under her and start playin’ ’round the outer edges of her puffy pussy while twirlin’ my tongue ’round hers.

Damn, I can’t believe another year has come and gone. Oh-nine is here. And, I’m ringin’ it in wit’ a muthafuckin’ “little person.” Who woulda thought? But like they say: Out wit’ the old, and in wit’ the new. That means, good-bye, old pussy—well, good riddance to most of it. And hello, new!

I can’t wait to blow this joint. “Happy New Year to you, too, baby,” I say, fnally unlockin’ my lips from hers.

She smiles at me, reachin’ for her flute of champagne. I watch her as she takes another sip. The bitch done drank almost the whole bottle. But she’s kept her nose away from the white lines. Well, as far as a muhfucka knows. “The past year has been full of blessings,” she says, wipin’ the left corner of her mouth wit’ her thumb. “And meeting you has been one of them. I can’t begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed spending time with you and getting to know you. It has meant a lot to me…”

Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!

“Now, before you say anything, I know you don’t have the same kind of feelings for me that I have for you, and I don’t expect you to. But I do hope that the New Year allows you to open your mind and your heart to the idea of new possibilities.”

Yeah, the possibility of you becomin’ a certified pain in the ass, I think, strokin’ the side of her face. “Listen, you gonna haveta ease up, baby. I keep tellin’ you I’m not lookin’ for anything heavy. I don’t wanna see you gettin’ hurt.”

“I know. You’ve been up front with me about that from day one.” She pauses, stares at me. “You wouldn’t intentionally try to hurt me, would you?” She almost looks as pitiful as she sounds askin’ this.

“Nah, baby, I wouldn’t intentionally try ’n drag you.” Not unless you deserve to be. “As long as you don’t get on no extra shit tryna smother a nigga, we cool.” She gets up from the sofa and waddles over to the coat closet, then comes back wit’ sumthin’ in her hand.

“Here, this is for you,” she says, handin’ me a small square Gucci box.

“What’s this?” I ask, takin’ it.

She sits next to me. “Open it.”

I open the box. Inside is a sterling silver Gucci key ring wit’ a set of keys, and a small white card wit’ four numbers written on it. They look like house keys, and the code to her alarm. I grin. “Yo, are these to the crib?” She nods. “Why?”

“Because I want you to be able to come and go anytime you want.”

I wanna shake my head and tell this fuckin’ broad she’s nuts for giving a muhfucka she barely knows the keys to her spot. That she’s askin’ to get dragged. “Uh, listen. Givin’ me a key is not gonna make me ya man, you dig? Is that what you tryna do, put claims on me?”