All Eyez on Gunz

by Warren Holloway

  Other females looking just as sexy as Ariana and Chica came to his side to quickly fill the void.

  We made it out to the limo and back to the suite where shit got real hot.

  Chica came out of her clothes in one seamless movement while Ariana followed. I was in my bed, and cuz was in his bed. Chica came over and placed her lips on my dick. She worked her magic as she was looking at me with her soft, hazel-brown eyes filled with sex and passion. Shit was like I was fucking this bitch’s eyes or something. She was that good. I wanted to fuck this bitch now, so I made her stop. She climbed up on me, mounting my thickness and moaning as her tight and wet pussy slid down.

  “Ahi, papi, ahi,” she moaned as she leaned forward a little, placing her hands on my chest.

  I didn’t even need to do any work other than stay hard. Damn, this pussy is good, feeling like her mouth but better. In fact, ten times better as she worked her hips while making faces. That was a sign of how into it she was. She then got going faster as she raised up and slammed hard on my dick, hitting every spot and causing her to moan and explode over and over.

  “Ahi, ahi, ahi, papi, mumh, damn, papi!” she said sensually as the sensation took over, rushing through her body. She was cumming.

  She tightened her pussy almost making me bust, so I rolled her over to take control of this pussy. Just as I flipped her over, cuz was pounding Ariana from behind. She was moaning loud, almost ashamed as she put her face in the pillow to muffle the sounds of pleasure she was feeling. I focused back on this good Puerto Rican pussy, placing one of her legs over my shoulder while leaving the other leg down to give me an angle to tear this pussy up.

  When I started stroking her from this position, I was feeling every wall inside of her. Her moans escaped her mouth even more, becoming louder and more passionate. Her pussy was contracting as she exploded over and over. I was liquored up and pounding this good pussy.

  “Put my leg down, papi!” she pleaded sexually, wanting me closer to her.

  I did as she pleased, digging deep into this good-good. She wrapped her arms around my back, her nails grazing my back in almost a scratch. Crazy thing, that shit was feeling good until I started going hard and deeper, and then she started scratching for real.

  “Hold up, Chica! That shit don’t feel good right there.”

  “Sorry, papi, keep going,” she said, with a take-me-this-is-your-pussy look.

  I started back up, and this time her legs came around my waist. Instead of scratching my back, her soft lips found my neck. Normally I wouldn’t let a bitch suck on my neck, but this pussy was feeling good, plus I didn’t have a bitch at home, so I was good. Plus, by me allowing her to do this, it showed that I was opening up to her, or so she was thinking. She was into it. The suck mark is some possessive shit. Them Spanish chicks be on that shit.

  “Mmmmmmmh, mmmmmmmh! Don’t stop, papi, give it to me!”

  I didn’t know what it was about her words, but they did make me go harder. At the same time, I was feeling that tingling rush through my dick as the cum exploded into her body. Once I came to a halt, I wanted to get up and get clean, but she wouldn’t let her grip go. She was having multiple orgasms, something her body never had experienced. Her legs were trembling, and her mouth was open. There was no sound, just light panting. Her lips quivered, and the passion in her hazel eyes sparkled. Right then I knew I had this bitch. Obviously, Turnpike Tito was the last thing on her mind.

  When she was finally done, a smile came across her face before lightly punching me in the chest.

  “What the fuck you do to me, papi?”

  She was twisted by the dick. Now that’s some funny shit.

  “I showed you a good night.”

  I rolled out of bed freshening up, knowing the meeting with Tito would come soon as we closed our eyes.

  Big Ivan fell asleep after fucking the shit out of Ariana.

  I came out of the bathroom and jumped into the bed. Chica didn’t hesitate to snuggle up to a nigga. I didn’t push her away. She was a real bitch no matter what. She could be of good use whether it be for business, sex, or relationship.

  CHAPTER 7

  IT WAS 9:45 A.M. when we were pulling up to the ports in the Benz limo. Chica was at my side with her hair still wet from the morning shower. Ariana had her eyes closed with her head back, taking in the night before. Big Ivan, like me, was on point and ready to finish out this business deal with Turnpike Tito. Ace took care of business by having the money sent to me next-day air. That shit was at the checkout when we exited the hotel.

  We stepped out of the limo ladies first, then me and cuz with money on our minds.

  Turnpike Tito was already there with his goons in the Hummers. The only thing different was the Ferrari Enzo he was driving was custom-painted sky blue with a plush, white leather interior.

  Tito was with another bad-ass bitch looking like she was Asian or something with the cat-like eyes, black hair, blonde highlights, and a model’s body and stance. She was ready to ride out, and not just to fuck a nigga, but to lay a nigga out for Tito.

  Chica kissed me on the cheek before she and Ariana made their way over to Turnpike Tito’s side. I laughed seeing this shit; at the same time realizing the power this nigga had not just in the game but over these bitches.

  Cuz gave me a look probably thinking the same shit I was thinking about these chicks.

  We approached Tito seconds behind Chica and Ariana, who were smiling.

  “Buenos dias, hermanos. Did my girls take good care of you last night?”

  “They showed us the brighter side of Miami’s nightlife,” Big Ivan said.

  “I can’t complain. The hospitality was generous,” I added, catching a glimpse of Chica’s eyes and emotion behind them.

  She was twisted off the dick. I guess these hoes needed love too. She was a different type of ho. She was high price. The regular one- or two-brick boy wouldn’t be able to touch that pussy. The dresses, jewelry, and handbags she liked cost that much. That was just a few of her lavish likings.

  “Did you bring mi chabo, hermano?” Tito asked, getting straight to business.

  The money was in a Miami Hilton bag. I turned to get it out of the limo. When I gave him the bag, a smile came across his face once he opened it up. It was the sight of money. Better than sex to most people. A rush of power.

  “This is what I like to see, mi amigo. A true sign of good business to come,” he said, handing the bag to Ariana.

  She took the bag over to the Hummer. She also got in the back of the Hummer wanting to rest from the night before.

  “I’m looking forward to this future of good business, my nigga, along with more trips to Miami,” I responded, knowing Chica would catch on to the pun intended to capture her mind and heart.

  I glanced over at his whip, being a car fanatic.

  “You love that sky-blue shit, huh?”

  “It reminds me that the sky is the limit. So, when I’m driving, I’m looking at the sky and reaching for it at the same time, and nobody is going to stop me from getting there.”

  As we were talking, the men were securing the bricks of cocaine with one of Tito’s associates to drive the work up north. He already knew where to go. That was info we gave Tito last night.

  Once the work was secured, the driver took off first, and then we embraced with Tito once more with handshakes. He was feeling a need to reiterate his statement from last night.

  “Amigos, don’t forget that. I live for this shit, and I will die for this shit, so don’t fuck me or my money over.”

  I didn’t trip because he was trusting me with fifty bricks that he fronted me on top of the fifty I got from him. He wouldn’t have given me the shit if he didn’t think I could make his money, or if he couldn’t track me down to get it.

  “I’ll see you in a week to show you how I get this paper, and if this product is as raw as you say it is. I’ll be back for more and even sooner than a week.”

  “Okay, amigo, I’ll see y
ou then,” he responded while turning to Chica. “Say goodbye.”

  “Take care of yourself, papi. Thank you for last night.”

  Tito laughed, hearing the passion and lust in her voice.

  The Asian bitch at Tito’s side was super fine. She was also eyeing a nigga down, or maybe she was on some other shit.

  I nodded my head with a smirk on my face in acknowledgment to Chica, before turning back to the limo with my cuz.

  Once in the limo, Tito and his crew raced off. Chica was in the other Hummer while Tito kept the Asian chick with him. He’s a boss, so the bitches are going to flock to him. Chica is one of many, but loyal to him in many ways. She’d run drugs if needed or get info from other boss niggas, which made me think long and hard about this when she was telling me this shit last night and this morning. It was all a part of the business.

  “That bitch was feeling you heavy, cuz,” Big Ivan said.

  “Yeah, she tripp’n, right?”

  “Keep her at bay. It might not be good for business in the long run, you feel me?”

  “Nigga, I always keep shit business first. Chica can come in good use. I just don’t know for what at this time. I saw it in her eyes. She wants to be down with a real nigga like me.”

  “Let it play out. Don’t let it play you, cuz,” Big Ivan said before he yawned, tired as shit from last night partying and fucking. “I’m sleeping on the flight back, ’cause when we touchdown, it’s all business.”

  He was right. We needed to dump the one hundred blocks I got from King Jose plus the one hundred we just got from Tito.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE NEXT DAY WHILE my cousin, Big Ivan, was at the crib making amends with his wifey for staying out too long without calling her, I was making moves. I secured the work from Turnpike Tito’s driver. After I put that shit away, I was making phone calls to take care of business, because I didn’t want to look bad coming up short with King Jose’s product or Turnpike Tito’s shit.

  I called Ace to see where he was at, plus I wanted to make sure he was moving work as needed and not being caught up with them bitches throwing the pussy his way.

  “G’s up!” Ace sounded off with the G-code.

  “G’s up, little nigga. Where you at?”

  “At Aunty’s crib uptown.”

  “I’m coming through. I’m out by the South Acres now.”

  After I hung up, I turned down Hanover Street onto Cameron Street, which stretched across the city. I was making calls and reaching out to everyone down with me, meaning the niggas that got work from me.

  I reached Cameron and Maclay Streets at the intersection and waited on the red light to turn green. As always, I scanned my area, checking each mirror to make sure niggas didn’t try to carjack me or rob a nigga. They wanted what I had; plus, I got mine the way they were trying to get theirs, so it was a must I stayed alert.

  I looked down and placed my boy’s CD in. My nigga, Large Flava, was a tall nigga that be real heavy on the DJ side of things; plus, he gets it popp’n with that airtime keeping niggas on the high life.

  Instinct came over me as I glanced up to see the light was still red. My eyes veered back to the rear-view mirror, where I saw this Arab muthafucka approaching. My mind accelerated. I scanned the side mirror and saw a minivan pull up with the side door already ajar. Right then, the adrenaline rushed through my body as I reached for my Glock 40mm with sixteen in the box and one in the chamber ready to roll.

  As I flashed between the light and the mirrors seeing their approach, I hit Ace on speed dial. He picked up on the first ring, knowing something was wrong for me to call him right back.

  “What’s good, cuz?”

  “These Arab muthafuckas is trying to creep a nigga. Meet me on the murder.”

  I didn’t need to repeat myself with Ace. He liked this type of shit. The Murder is a street uptown on Moore Street. It was dubbed Moore Murder after all the homicides in the early ‘90s.

  These Arab cats were strapped with some serious metal. Shit, they had to get that exclusively.

  They couldn’t see my movement inside because of the pitch-black tint, but I had the drop on these stupid muthafuckas as soon as I hit the switch to roll down the window. I opened up with two back-to-back rounds that slammed into this nigga’s chest and thrust him back. Then I slammed the gas, allowing the V8 engine of the G55 to push me forward.

  The other Arab ran on foot behind me as if he could catch up. He couldn’t, but the slugs slammed into my truck until he was hit by an oncoming cab rushing through the green light.

  The minivan took off behind me as I raced up the Maclay Street Bridge to make my way into the Uptown area. I didn’t know who these Arab muthafuckas was, but it was more than clear that they wanted me dead for some stupid-ass reason. It’s not my time to go, so these stupid muthafuckas is getting slumped one by one until I get back to the source.

  The slugs crashing into my truck sounded off loud. It was pissing me off, too, knowing these idiots was fucking my shit up.

  I tried to evade the oncoming slugs by turning right onto 7th Street and making my way toward Division, with foot still to the gas, until these slow-ass cars got in front of me coming from the off streets.

  “Move out the way!” I snapped, knowing they couldn’t hear me, but they did hear the burst of gunfire coming from the minivan, which made them pull over quickly in order not to catch a stray slug.

  The minivan came up to the side of my truck. I knew what was next, so I rammed the side of the van, forcing them all the way over into the oncoming lane. The driver reacted quickly by getting in back of me once again, still shooting recklessly as I swerved trying to prevent my truck from looking like a block of Swiss cheese.

  I made a swift left turn on Division Street and headed toward 6th Street. I could see there was traffic ahead, so as soon as I got close enough, I veered into the gas station weaving around the cars until I popped back out onto 6th Street. I mashed the gas again while at the same time checking my mirrors.

  I pulled away fast on these clowns, but they came back into view quickly in the minivan.

  Everybody in the hood was out looking good, stunt’n, and standing around living life, until the gunfire erupted. The kids dropped down on the ground. The chicks screamed out for their kids and family members. The real niggas went for their guns.

  I made it to 6th and Forest, by turning down toward the Murder. I saw Ace’s Audi S6 park, so I knew he was in the cut. I stopped at Moore and Forest Streets and waited on these muthafuckas to turn into my hood.

  The minivan turned onto the block fast before coming to a slow drift as if they were expecting something to go down. I was looking at ‘em through my mirror. I could see ‘em talking and looking at one another before they popped out of the van. There were two of them left.

  They started approaching my truck, until Ace jumped out from the alley with thirty-two in the clip and one in the chamber. He squeezed off, sending five rounds out quick while tracking down the closest Arab to him. The other Arab dropped down on the side of the van, which gave me enough time to jump out. I started walking toward this Arab nigga, wanting to kill him and get an answer to why they were trying to kill a nigga. But he raised his fully automatic weapon up, until Ace came from behind, slumping him and sending his brains through the front of his skull. This shit was looking crazy. This nigga’s eyes were still open like he was shocked that he got shot.

  “We got to get outta here, cuz,” I said while jumping back in my truck.

  Ace jumped in his whip, too. We couldn’t afford to stick around, especially with the amount of product I had, and the niggas that gave it to me would kill my family and reach out behind bars for their shit. I don’t blame them because I would do the same, especially if a nigga went to jail and it wasn’t in relation to this getting money shit.

  CHAPTER 9

  IT WAS 5:27 P.M., almost three hours after that shit with them Arab lames. Me and Ace went outside the hood chilling at our lay-low spot.
We also called this spot the bachelor’s pad, because we brought all types of bitches over here. They loved this crib’s space with over 2,500 square feet filled with amenities of a balla: flat-screens, bar, stripper pole, sound system, plush leather, and furniture throughout, and each one of us had our own room stunted to the fullest. The women loved this shit.

  Ace was watching the flat-screen while flipping through the channels as I poured both of us a drink. I needed this shit to take the edge off from these niggas trying to take me out.

  “Cuz, look at this shit!” Ace yelled out, trying to get my attention to the television.

  “Look at what, cuz?” I said while carrying the glasses back over to the lounge area. “Here, nigga, double shot of that yack,” I said as I handed him his glass of Henny.

  I zoomed in on the flat-screen to see that it was the news, with this pale-looking white chick reporting on what took place with them Arab muthafuckas earlier.

  “I’m Sarah Jennings here in the Uptown area of the city on a street nicknamed for its multiple murders, with two more today adding to that reason the street has its name. This city is known for its level of violence, but there is no coincidence that two Arab men last week and four today have succumbed to this city’s ongoing violence, leaving no true witnesses or suspects thus far. Only thing that has been reported is the weapons these men carried. Also, these men were in association with the Islamic Jihad Organization (IJO), which is in connection with the Muslim Brotherhood (MBH) that is said to derive from Egypt. Harrisburg is definitely a long way from home for these men.”

  Hearing the shit she was saying had me trippin’. These Arab cats were terrorists, from the sounds of it.

  “Cuz, I think them muthafuckas think we saw something when we was at the warehouse. Plus, I crossed paths with ‘em at the Giants. They was in them vans real heavy, looking like they was doing something. Besides, who the fuck is driving a Bentley Flying Spur and the new Benz 65 Brabus if they ain’t getting some exclusive paper?”