Daddy Long Stroke

“Nah, baby, never that,” I say back, washin’ and dryin’ my hands, then walkin’ back into the bedroom. I glance over at the clock: 10:16 A.M. Let me get the fuck up outta here. I start slippin’ on my clothes. Instead of straight dissin’ her, I go back into the bathroom to tell her I’m out. “Yo, I’ma get at you later.”

“What?” she asks, stickin’ her head outta the shower curtain. She looks me up and down, realizin’ what I’ve said when she sees me wit’ all my shit on. “Where you goin’?”

“To get my dick sucked.”

“Excuse you?”

“I got shit to do,” I say.

“Oh, hell no,” she snaps, shuttin’ the water off and pullin’ back the curtain. “All of sudden you got shit to do, and you out. But just a few minutes ago you were prancin’ around here naked wanting me to spin ya top. Now you all dressed and shit. That’s real fucked up.”

I stare at her naked body, watch droplets of water and suds roll down her breasts. Her nipples are hard. I lick my lips. Think ’bout suckin’ her tits. Imagine throwin’ her up against the shower wall and fuckin’ her dry-ass pussy ’til it burns and turns raw. I decide against it. Instead, I tell her I enjoyed chillin’ wit’ her; that I appreciate the gift; that it’s time to bounce; that I’ll holla at her later. But the bitch isn’t havin’ it.

“Why, because I wouldn’t suck ya damn dick when you wanted me to?”

“Basically, but it’s all good. I found another willin’ throat to plant this nut in.”

She stares me down. Then the theatrics begin. Hand on hip. Finger pointin’. Neck rollin’. “Whaaaat? Nigga, are you serious? You leaving up outta here to go lay up with some other bitch after I fucked and sucked you practically all damn day yesterday and again last night. And you got the fucking audacity to stand here and tell me that shit.”

“Yep,” I say, shruggin’. Hell, she should be glad I’m keepin’ shit real.

She huffs, puttin’ her hand up. “You know what? You’re an arrogant, selfish-ass motherfucker, for real. Just get the fuck out. I ain’t begging your ass to stay.”

“And I ain’t askin’ you to,” I flatly state. “I shoulda just dipped on ya ass.”

“Yeah, nigga maybe you shoulda. But you didn’t, so dip now, muhfucka.”

“Peace out,” I tell her, walkin’ outta the bathroom. She follows behind me, naked and wet. The bitch tells me to dip, but still trailin’ behind me into the livin’ room, poppin’ shit. What the fuck?!

“So you really gonna fucking leave, right? You gonna dis me for some other bitch, right? Is that how you doin’ yours? You gonna just straight play me like that?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck you then. You ain’t shit, nigga for real. I don’t even know why I ever fucked with your broke ass, anyway. All you good for is fucking ’cause ya broke ass can’t even afford a Happy Meal.”

I slip on my Gores. Let her run her dick suckas. Yeah, I’m broke aiight. But, I’m the same muhfucka sittin’ on close to a hunnid grand, collectin’ interest. Money left over from a settlement I got when a drunk driver—a judge’s wife, no less—in broad daylight, ran a stop sign, jumped a curb, then hit me as I was ridin’ my bike on the sidewalk. I was like eight. And lucky for me I didn’t have parents who tried to run through my paper, which is how I eventually bought my spot—paid in full, and copped me a slick-ass whip. But, this bitch wouldn’t know all that. Keepin’ shit real, a muhfucka like me gotta save for an unexpected drought. You never know when my wells are gonna start dryin’ up, feel me? So I milk these hoes for as long as I can. Bottom line, a nigga like me—who ain’t tryna work—ain’t beat to be broke. And a hunnid grand these days ain’t shit, feel me?

I grab the rest of my shit and head toward the door. “Oh, nooooo, nigga. You ain’t taking that up outta here.”

I turn to face her. “Are you serious?” I ask as if I really give a fuck. I love lettin’ these dizzy-ass broads think I’m some kinda charity case.

“Yeah, motherfucker, I’m dead-ass. Since you on some other shit, let that bitch you getting ready to fuck buy you one. Since she’s all eager to wet your dick, let her come outta her pockets. ’Cause that right there”—she points at the Xbox—“ain’t leaving up outta here. You not gonna fucking try ’n play me.”

I almost wanna laugh at her ho-ass for soundin’ so damn stupid. This dumb bitch let me fuck her e’ery which way, and had no problem gulpin’ down this dick last night—or the other night, or the times before that—but now she wanna talk ’bout somebody tryna play her. Fuck outta here.

“Yo, check this shit out. I don’t havta try ’n play your dumb ass. You did that all by ya’self, boo. E’ery time you let me run my dick up in ya dry-ass pussy and nut in ya raggedy-ass face, you played ya’self. So you can have it, baby. It ain’t that serious, yo. There’s plenty more where that came.”

“Fuck you, motherfucker!”

I laugh, openin’ the front door. “I already did.”