Daddy Long Stroke

I’m finally home—chillin’, kicked back watchin’ CNN Live, tryna get caught up wit’ what’s poppin’ wit’ my dude Barack and his whack-ass opponent. I’m tellin’ you, dude got this presidential shit in the bag—hands down! He’s been waxin’ that old-ass dude’s ass in e’ery debate. That cracker can’t rock wit’ Barack, real talk. Dude might as well throw his ass in a ditch and let ’em toss the dirt down on him ’cause it’s already over for ’im. Hell, the coffin was sealed on this election the minute dude announced that Gidget look-alike as his vice president—like that was gonna help him. Fuck outta here! Obama got swagger. And it’s ’bout to be on up in the muthafuckin’ White House, ya heard?

Anyway, a nigga can’t front, it’s good to be home—word up. That lil’ stint in ATL wit’ Minnie Mouse, nah…let me stop— wit’ Vita, was aiight. I ain’t even gonna style. She’s cool peeps. Like I said before, she isn’t the hottest chick on the block, but she ain’t the ugliest either. And she ain’t broke. So what she lacks in looks, she makes up in dollars, feel me? True, she can’t handle the dick, yet. But she did try her damndest to serve up the pussy wit’ enthusiasm and greed. And, for me, an enthusiastic, greedy bitch tryna bounce the pussy up ’n down on this dick gets mad props from me. Still a muhfucka’s horny as hell and ready to fuck—now!

Who can I call? At least three dozen bitches, but I ain’t feelin’ none of ’em. I want some new pussy. That Stone Mountain cutie comes to mind. I curse under my breath for not gettin’ at her while I was in ATL. I woulda loved slidin’ up between them hips, word up. I scroll through my phone, find her number, and call. When she doesn’t pick up, I decide to leave a message—this time, then get up from the sofa and run upstairs to get my laptop from outta my office-slash-guestroom. I come back down wit’ it, ploppin’ back down on the sofa. I kick my feet up on my leather coffee table, then call Maleeka while waitin’ for the PC to boot up. I leave a message, lettin’ her know big daddy wants some pussy. My dick starts to thicken thinkin’ ’bout her big, wet pussy slurpin’ in this dick. I pull my dick outta the slit of my boxers, and stroke. I close my eyes. Imagine her ridin’ this dick broncostyle wit’ her perky titties bouncin’ up ’n down. Damn, I wanna fuck. I deepen my strokes on my dick, cup my balls wit’ my free hand, then lighty squeeze on ’em. I’m on the brink of bustin’ a quick nut when my cell rings, disruptin’ my flow. It’s Shavron. I let go of my dick. Let my nut ooze out.

What the fuck this lame bitch want? “What’s good, baby?” I say, grabbin’ a T-shirt and wipin’ my nut off my stomach and from ’round my dick and balls. I log onto BlackPlanet. I click on my Notes page. Damn, there’s seventy-eight notes. I go through ’em, deletin’ the ones I ain’t beat for. I click on the pages of the ones that pique my interest. I wanna see who these hoes are before I respond.

“You,” she says in a low voice. I’m not sure if the bitch is sad, or tryna sound sexy. “You still outta town?”

“Nah, I’m back.”

“Oh, for real? When you get back?”

“Yesterday,” I lie. Yeah, I coulda kept shit real and told this ho I got back last week, but what the fuck for? Bitches be straight lyin’ all the time. Besides, it’s none of her muthafuckin’ business when I touched the fuck down.

“Then why didn’t you call me? I thought you said you was gonna hit me up when you got back.”

Is this bitch fuckin’ serious? “Aye, yo, bit…”—I catch myself before I rip into her ass—“Listen, don’t muthafuckin’ question me. I had mad shit to handle when I got back. I got sidetracked. Shit happens. But you know I was gonna hit you up sooner or later, damn—relax, baby.”

She softens her tone. “I didn’t mean to come off like I was questioning you…” Yes the fuck you did. “It’s just that I’ve been anxious to see you, and I wanted to make sure we were still on for your birthday.”

Damn, I almost forgot I had another birthday weekend comin’ up, which means more gifts. I grin, rememberin’ the Xbox she copped me. A muhfucka changes his tone, quick. “Oh, no doubt, baby.” I need to make sure I scoop up some lube before I get at her, though. There’s no muthafuckin’ way I’ma stick my dick back up in that desert of a pussy. I might as well just go out and fuck a box of sand. “You remember all that slick shit you was talkin’ ’bout how you tryna suck this dick, right?”

“Yeah, I know what I told you. And I meant it.”

“That’s what ya mouth says,” I tease. “But we know you ain’t ready to put in no real work.”

“I was born ready,” she states, laughin’. “I don’t ever gotta get ready; thought you knew.”