Daddy Long Stroke

Although I ain’t really beat to be out there more than two days, three at the most, I know she’s good for at least five or more gees, and a new wardrobe. And I’m guaranteed nonstop fuckin’ and suckin’. I think and consider my options, knowin’ there ain’t any. None of the other broads I’m smashin’ at the moment are passin’ a muhfucka any major paper, so…fuck them peanuts they shellin’ out; I’ma let it do what it do. Of course there’s no guilt for nuthin’ I do, but I decide to let her think there is. “You know this shit fucks me up, right?”

“What, big daddy?”

“Havin’ to lean on you for plane tickets ’n shit like that. I wanna be able to handle wit’out you comin’ outta ya wallet all the time, feel me? A muhfucka wants to be able to show you my ’preciation.”

“Oh, please. I told you don’t ever sweat stuff like that. I make enough money for the both of us, and I don’t mind sharing any of it with you. Life is too short. I want what I want when I want it. And I don’t care what the cost. And right, now, I want your fine, sexy, chocolatey-self and that long, black horse dick of yours here in my bed, between my legs, fucking this pussy inside out. I’m booking you a flight. It’ll be an open ticket. You want to show me your appreciation, then be on that flight and come here and fuck me down.”

I grin. “Book the flight, baby.”

16

So, here it is almost six o’clock in the evening, the house is quiet as hell and I’m up in my room, chillin’—kicked back in my boxers, blazin’ a blunt and burnin’ incense ’round the room—watchin’ the flick The Kinsley Report when there’s a knock on the door. Thinkin’ it’s Pops, I put out the blunt and get up to open the door. Although Pops has never cared ’bout me blazin’ in the house, outta respect I don’t do the shit ’round ’im. I swing the door open, and almost pass the fuck out. To my surprise—and muthafuckin’ dismay—Sherria is standin’ on the other side of the door, scowlin’.

Fuck! First of all, how the hell she know where to find me? And, second, how the hell she get in? I’m the only one up in this piece, so I know Pops couldna let her in. Or did he? Nah, dude wouldna let her come upstairs like that. I start buggin’ and thinkin’ this crazy-ass trick done broke in. That’s the last thing I fuckin’ need, word up. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, what, you thought it was one of ya other bitches? Well, surprise, surprise, nigga. It ain’t.”

“Yo, how the fuck you know where to find me?”

“Don’t worry ’bout that,” she snaps, foldin’ her arms ’cross her juicy double-D’s. Images of my dick in between ’em pop in my head, and I feel my dick startin’ to awaken. I quickly shake the thought before I forget the reason I’m not fuckin’ wit’ her ass anymore. She’s one of those controllin’, miserable bitches who got wrapped up wit’ a few muhfuckas that cheated on her, lied to her, and pushed her biscuit in one time too many in her life. So she’s angry wit’ e’ery livin’, breathin’ muhfucka on earth. “I told you I knew where you stayed. A bitch like me did her homework. I asked around and followed you. Now are you gonna let me in, or what?”

I clench my jaw, keepin’ my body between her and the door. “I wanna know how you got in here, first.” Please tell me this nutty, stalkin’-ass bitch didn’ break in.

She rolls her eyes, suckin’ her teeth. “No, I didn’t break in,” she says, readin’ my mind. “I’m not that fuckin’ crazy.” I give her an “oh really” look. She glares at me. “Your father was on his way out and let me in. Nice-lookin’ man, too, I might add. I hope he isn’t as fucked up as you are.”

I frown. Why the fuck would he do some dumb shit like that? Man, Pops is really slippin’, I think, eyein’ her. I make a mental note to check him on it. I feel myself gettin’ agitated. “Yo, what the fuck you want?”

“First of all, don’t come at me like that…”

“Yo, check this shit out. I’ll come at you however I want when you standin’ up in my muthafuckin’ grill uninvited, unexpected, and unwanted. So, again, what the fuck do you want?”

She glares at me. Nostrils flare. “You’ve been fucking avoiding my calls for the last two months, and I wanna fucking know why. I opened myself up to you, let you into my heart and this is how you fuckin’ treat me.”

I sigh, starin’ at her. I already know there’s no fuckin’ way I’ma let her up in this bedroom. I’ll never get her outta here unless I fuck her to death, and that ain’t ’bout to happen. Pops done let this nutcase in. Now I gotta be the one to try ’n figure out how I’ma get her ass the fuck up outta here wit’out her bustin’ up shit, or tryna claw me up. Some bitches can’t handle rejection, and she’s definitely one of ’em. The last thing I need is to be hemmed up on some domestic violence-type shit, feel me?