Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

by Cairo

  “I’ve been busy. Nuthin’ personal.” I place a handful of chips on a napkin, then fold the bag closed.

  “Nuthin’ personal? Oh, aiight. So, you play a muhfucka to da left like I’m sum kinda duck muhfucka and I’m not ’posed to take that shit personal. On some real shit, I thought we was vibin’.”

  “Nigga, we was. But, shit. I got otha pressin’ shit goin’ on. So I don’t really have no time for niggas.”

  “Oh, so that’s what I am, just some nigga, yo?”

  “Well…uh, yeah. You ain’t my man.”

  “Yo, ain’t nobody sayin’ I am. But I’ve kept shit a hunnid wit’ you; told you what it is, and what I want.”

  “And I told you what it is, too. I’m not beat.”

  “So fuck me, right?”

  The doorbell rings. I ignore the shit since I don’t remember sendin’ out no invitations for guests. I sigh. “You know what I mean.”

  “Nah, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me.”

  I feel myself ’bout to spazz out on this muhfucka. But it really has nuthin’ to do wit’ ’im. A bitch is aggravated that she missed hearin’ this nigga’s voice; that his smooth baritone voice is makin’ my clit pulse. I need a fuckin’ blunt! And a dose’a some dick, bitch!

  “Look, nigga. Don’t try ’n make this out to be no more than what it’s been. We been fuck buddies; that’s it. I ain’t gonna sit here ’n front like a bitch don’t dig you ’cause I do. But at da end of da day, we both know that shit ain’t gonna be no more than what it’s been—us fuckin’. You ain’t ready for nuthin’ more. And I don’t know if I am either. So before shit gets too hectic, it’s best if we squash this.”

  “Yo, it’s best for who?”

  The doorbell rings again. This time whoeva’s ringin’ it, keeps pressin’ down on my shit like they fuckin’ crazy. I glance ova at the clock on the time. 7:41 P.M. I suck my teeth, pissed. What da fuck! Who da fuck is comin’ here unannounced—and fuckin’ uninvited! I think gettin’ up from the kitchen table.

  “For both of us.”

  “Oh, so basically you punkin’ out on me, right? You not even gonna take a chance on a muhfucka, right?”

  I roll my eyes up in my head, makin’ my way to the door. “Nigga, you ain’t ready to roll da dice wit’ a chick like me, aiight? So, let’s leave it be. Go get ya gamble on sumwhere else. I told you I ain’t beat for da bullshit.” I’m so caught up in gettin’ ready to bring it to this nigga that I swing open the door wit’out checkin’ the peephole.

  This muhfucka’s leanin’ up against my doorframe wit’ his cell pressed up to his ear. “And I told you, I ain’t tryna let you go that easy. So wrong answer.” I don’t know if I should be happy to see this nigga or heated that his ass popped up at my spot wit’out permission. He smiles at me, disconnectin’ our call. “Yo, you gonna let me in, or what?”

  I stare ’im down, slowly shakin’ my head. “Nigga, you know you crazy, right?” I step back, openin’ the door so he can come inside. He brushes past me. “What are doin’ here?”

  He lays his phone down on the coffee table. “Well, I figured since I can’t get you by phone, and you ain’t respondin’ to any of my text, I thought I should come by to make sure you aiight.”

  “Nigga, you can’t be poppin’ up ova here like you King Ding Dong ’n shit. You real outta pocket now.”

  He starts removin’ his chain and watch, then takes off his AF Ones. “Then I guess I might as well get outta these clothes, too.” He pulls off his Ed Hardy tee shirt, then his wife beater.

  I stare at ’im. “What da fuck is you doin’?”

  “What it look like? You said I’m outta pocket, so now I’m ’bout to be outta my clothes. I’m strippin’ butt-ass naked and I ain’t leavin’ this muhfucka ’til we air shit out; real talk.” He unbuckles his belt, unsnaps his jeans, then pulls ’em off.

  I fold my arms, starin’ at ’im standin’ here bare-chested and in his Polo boxers. This muthafucka is too fuckin’ extra. “Nigga, you need to put ya shit back on.”

  He steps outta his drawers. Then has the muthfuckin’ audacity to throw ’em at me. “Whatchu gonna do, throw a muhfucka out?”

  I try not to glance down at his shiny black dick. Try to act like a bitch ain’t tryna slurp his chocolate ass up. He licks his lips. “Muhfucka, I ain’t playin’ wit’ you.” Bitch, but you know ya horny ass want this muhfucka playin’ wit’ you . So shut ya ho-ass up ’n get wit’ da damn program.

  He walks up on me. “Yo, some real shit. You gotta muhfucka feelin’ ’n actin’ like a real bitch right’a ’bout now.” He pulls me into ’im, and kisses me on the forehead, then on the tip of my nose. “You wanna know the one thing that has always annoyed da shit outta me?”

  This muhfucka smells so damn good. My pussy lips ’n clit are startin’ to swell. I look up at ’im. “What’s that?”

  “A whinin’, needy-ass bitch. And here you gotta muhfucka doin’ da same shit, yo.”

  I smirk. “Is that what I’m doin’?”

  He looks me in the eyes. “I don’t know what da fuck it is ’bout you. I ain’t never been a sucka for good pussy. But you got a nigga’s head all fucked up, yo; true story. I keep you on da brain, heavy.” I wanna tell ’im that the shit’s mutual, but I don’t. Pride won’t let me. He kisses me on the lips. “I dogged a lotta bitches ’cause they let me, Kat. Not ’cause I was lyin’ to ’em or misleadin’ ’em. I always kept shit a hunnid. I would tell ’em from da rip what it was. That a muhfucka wasn’t lookin’ for love; that a muhfucka wasn’t beat for no extras other than good pussy, throat ’n ass. And if they caught feelin’s then that shit was on them. Not me.” He strokes the side of my face. “And a muhfucka knows I hurt a few—hell, a lot—of ’em real bad, but they opened da door to that shit, feel me?”

  I nod my head, knowin’ly. His hands travel up and down my back. His dick is already brick and I’m tryin’ my damndest to act like I don’t peep this big-ass stick gaugin’ me. I try to step outta his embrace, but he doesn’t let me. And my achin’ pussy won’t, eitha.

  “Nah, stand here and let a muhfucka hold you, and finish tellin’ you this shit. “Wit’ da exception of maybe two or three, I had no respect for none’a them bitches, Kat. And that’s on e’erything. I would tell ’em all, ‘fuck wit’ a nigga like me at ya own risk’. I’d warn ’em to not come at me lookin’ for love ’cause a muhfucka wasn’t givin’ none of da shit out. And when they didn’t stick to da script, I’d dismiss ’em from their dick wettin’ duties. Now here I am, and you hittin’ me with da exact same shit I used to tell e’very broad who was tryna bag me.” He shakes his head, smilin’.

  “What, why you grinnin’?”

  “It’s funny how shit turns out, that’s all. I was really feelin’ some kinda way when you wasn’t pickin’ up my calls or respondin’ to my text, but it’s da same shit I used to do to chicks who were startin’ to get nutty on me. Then when they’d finally get at me whinin’ ’bout why I didn’t hit ’em back, I’d tell ’em if a muhfucka doesn’t get back at ’em, then it meant a muhfucka ain’t interested. I guess I should start listenin’ to my own shit.”

  Mmmph, maybe you should. I shift my weight from one foot to the otha. “Look, muhfucka, if you stayin’, we need to sit da fuck down sumwhere.” He takes me by the hand, pullin’ me to the sofa. “Uhhh, nigga, I know you ain’t gonna plop ya bare ass down on my sofa.”

  “Nah, yo. C’mon wit’ that. I’ma put my jeans back on.”

  “Mmmph. I don’t know why you took them shits off in da first place.” I watch ’im slip back into his pants. He leaves ’em unfastened, sittin’ next to me.

  He takes my hand back into his, then brings it up to his lips and kisses it. “Kat, real shit, you know more ’bout me than anyone else besides my moms. Them bitches I was out there fuckin’ were nuthin’ more than a buncha pussy attached to low-self esteem, a ton of insecurities and mad loneliness. What da fuck I want wit’ that shit?”

  I shrug. �
�I don’t know, you tell me.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t respect ’em, Kat. And da fucked up thing is most of ’em didn’t respect themselves. A muhfucka like me ain’t never been da type’a cat to reassure some emotionally bankrupt ho ’bout shit she should already know.” He pauses, shakin’ his head. Then starts laughin’. “Yo, my moms told me I had betta proceed wit’ caution, fuckin’ wit’ you. She said you da kinda chick that would fuck a nigga up for tryna play ’er. And she didn’t wanna have’ta bury my ass. Yo, I couldn’t believe she told me that shit. Then she told me to leave you alone unless I was serious.”

  “Well, she’s right,” I say, raisin’ a brow. “And you might wanna take heed, nigga.”

  “Yo, and that’s da shit that’s funny ’cause I know this. And a muhfucka still wanna rock wit’ you. I know ya fine-ass is crazy. But I also know that underneath all that tough shit, is a woman wit’ a heart full of love. A woman who wants a muhfucka she can be real wit’, who she can chill wit’ and be in love wit’. A woman who wants a muhfucka she can count on; a muhfucka who can hold shit down.”

  I shift in my seat. Let go of his hand. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, aiight, Kat. Keep frontin’. I see it in ya eyes. You scared.”

  “Nigga, I ain’t scared of shit,” I lie.

  “Well, I am. Look. I’ma do shit that ain’t always gonna be right. But if you worried ’bout a muhfucka creepin’ on you, don’t be. That’s not what I do.”

  “Nigga, you ain’t neva been in a relationship, so you don’t know what you will or won’t do.”

  “True. Da only thing I ever had on my mind was pussy and brain. ’Til now. On some real shit, this is da first time in my life where a muhfucka is thinkin’ ’bout da future. This ain’t me, ma.”

  I squint at ’im. “What ain’t you?”

  He opens his arms. “This. Sittin’ here, feelin’ what I feel. I ain’t never felt ’bout no female da way I feel ’bout you, yo. And I damn sure wasn’t tryna have any of ’em meet my moms or be all up in my personal space. For me to bring you to my crib; let you know how a muhfucka’s livin’ is major. So I know I’m not ’bout to fuck up da chance to make this work.”

  Yeah, yeah, yeah…womp, womp, womp…a bitch ain’t tryna hear all this shit. This muhfucka has me all off my square. Gotta bitch feelin’…unsure. Then this nigga sittin’ here barefoot and bare-chested is a fuckin’ distraction. A bitch can’t think straight. If I was still pumpin’ heat in muhfuckas’ skulls, I wouldn’t be all twisted up. But a bitch wit’ a horny, wet pussy ain’t always gonna think straight, like right now. I’m ready to Amtrak this nigga and ride the tracks off’a his dick.

  I stare at his chest, then lean ova and lick his nipple. He puts his head back. My mouth covers it and I lightly suck it, ’til he lets out a moan. I grab at his crotch, massage his dick ova his jeans ’til it starts to get long ’n thick.

  “Right now, all I care ’bout you makin’ work is this dick.”

  He opens and shuts his legs. The lump in his pants swells and stretches. “Damn, you gotta nigga’s head spinnin’, Kat.”

  Don’t let me have’ta put a bullet in it.

  I glance up at ’im. Look ’im in his eyes. “You want some’a this juicy pussy, muhfucka?”

  “Hell, yeah. But I wanna finish talkin’, first.”

  “Listen, fuck talkin’. We can finish all this chit chat. But, for right now, we need to take it to da sheets. A bitch’s pussy needs some tongue ’n dick action. Fuck this pussy, then we can get back to me dismissin’ ya ass.”

  I stand up. “Yo, fuck that. I ain’t lettin’ you dismiss shit. So we need’a finish talkin’ this shit out, first.”

  I tilt my head. “Nigga, you betta get ya ass up and take care of this pussy. Fuck all that ’xtra shit you talkin, or get put da fuck out.” He grins, jumpin’ up like his ass caught fire. “Yeah, I thought so.”

  I turn to spin-off on ’im, but he pulls me by the arm, spinnin’ me into ’im, then scoopin’ me up in his arms. I quickly throw my arms ’round his neck, holdin’ on tight.

  “Nigga, you crazy. Put me down ’fore you drop me,” I say, tryin’ not to laugh. But a bitch is lookin’ forward to bein’ dropped down on this muhfucka’s dick.

  “Yo, I got you, baby,” he says, takin’ the stairs two at a time. “I can’t wait to get lost up in them walls. Daddy wanna long stroke you to sleep, ma.”

  “Yeah, right, muhfucka. We’ll see. I bet this pussy’ll milk ya ass to sleep first.”

  He laughs, pushin’ open the bedroom door. He lays me on the bed. “That’s all good. I gotta lotta nut, baby, so it is what it is. We can go round for round up in this muhfucka. Yo, I don’t give a fuck what you say. I know you diggin’ me. And I’ma keep pressin’ ya fine-ass ’til you admit it.”

  I suck my teeth, untyin’ my robe, then layin’ back on the bed. I bend my legs all the way back. “Nigga, da only thing I’ma admit to is wantin’ ya tongue on my clit.”

  “Shiiiit, you ain’t said nuthin’ but a word, baby. A muhfucka’s face loves bein’ pressed up in between them highs.”

  “Then clock in, nigga, and get ta work.”

  He kisses all ova the front of my pussy, then slowly licks the right side of my lips, then the left side. He flicks my clit wit’ his tongue, then dips his tongue in my slit.

  I arch my back. Palm both sides of his head. “Oooooh, yes… ohhhhh, yessss, muhfucka…mmmm…eat that pussy, nigga…”

  On some real shit a bitch can see why this muhfucka has a buncha hoes ready to jump offa bridges ’n shit ova ’im. This nigga’s tongue work is siiiick. Yeah, muhfucka, I think, moanin’, it ain’t no use in denyin’ it. You gotta bitch diggin’ ya no-good ass, hard!

  TWO HOURS LATER, WE’RE LAYIN’ IN BED. ALEX IS ON HIS BACK, lightly snorin’. I am on my side, propped up on my forearm, gazin’ at ’im in the dark. Yeah, muhfucka, pussy heat done knocked ya ass out. I lift up the sheet and stare at his nakedness. The muhfucka has a body sculpted to perfection. Smooth chocolate wrapped ’round neva-endin’ muscles. This shit makes no damn sense, I think as I lick my lips. A muhfucka bein’ this damn fine.

  Yeah, bitch, and no damn good. Leave this nigga alone.

  But he sounds like he’s really tryna make it pop with a bitch.

  Ho, you know this nigga ain’t doin’ nuthin’ but spittin’ game at you.

  Yeah, but muhfuckas can change, too. The nigga done introduced me to his moms, and took me to his crib. Sumthin’ he’s neva done wit’ any otha bitch.

  Ho, that shit don’t mean nuthin’.

  But he seems like he’s kickin’ truths; like da nigga’s really feelin’ me.

  Bitch, don’t fall for the okey-doke. Delete his ass.

  He stirs in his sleep, then reaches ova and pulls me into his arms. I lay my head on his chest, close my eyes and listen to the nigga’s heartbeat ’til I drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Mad hot…’bout to bring da heat…gotta bitch spittin’fire… can’t change what a muhfucka’s done…fuckin’ wit’ a buncha birds…but a bitch bringin’ drama to my door…I ain’t da one…I guess I’ma haveta bring it to this whore…

  The next mornin’, this muhfucka starts beatin’ a bitch in the head again, tryna convince me to give ’im a try. Truth is, the minute he pulled me into his arms last night, my mind was already made up. Of course, I don’t tell ’im this. I decide to let the nigga sweat. Besides, I still need’a be sure ’bout it.

  “Yo, you aiight?” he asks, circlin’ my nipple wit’ the tip of his finga. I nod, closin’ my eyes. His finga feels good teasin’ my nipple. He stops, leans in, then wets it wit’ his tongue. I moan as grabs my otha titty and starts squeezin’. He pinches my nipple.

  “Ooooh…”

  His hand slowly roams down my stomach ’til his fingas find my clit. He presses, starts massagin’ it.

  “Aaaaah…”

  “You like that?” He slips two fingas in my pussy, strok
es my clit wit’ his thumb.

  My pussy grabs his fingas. He finga fucks me knuckles deep, pushin’ his two long, thick fingas in ’n out. The nigga’s workin’ my nipple wit’ his mouth and my box wit’ his fingas. I spread my legs, bend at the knees. Let out another moan.

  “I want some breakfast,” he says, lookin’ up at me.

  Whaaat? Is this nigga serious? I know he don’t think I’ma be flippin’ up no muthafuckin’ waffles ’n shit up in here. I snap my eyes open.

  He’s grinnin’ at me. “You ready to feed Daddy?”

  “You ain’t my daddy, nigga. And I ain’t feedin’ you.” He speeds up his finga work, cups his two fingas upward inside’a me.

  I moan again.

  “Yeah, you nuttin’ on Daddy’s fingers. Daaaamn, baby, ya shit’s so fuckin’ wet…you ready to feed me?”

  He shifts his body, scoots down toward the foot of the bed. It dawns on me the muhfucka is talkin’ ’bout eatin’ up this pussy. Meep, meep, follow da script, ho, I think, holdin’ back a chuckle. I smile. “Yeah, nigga…gobble up this pussy…”

  He gets between my legs, kisses the center of my pussy, then pulls my lips apart and slowly starts lickin’ up ’n down and all ’round ’em. He sticks his tongue up under my clit, rapidly flickin’ it. I moan, restin’ my legs over his shoulder. He pushes ’em all the way back wit’ his hands, buries his face deeper between my thighs.

  “Yeah, baby, make that pussy skeet…bust ya nut all over my tongue…give ya Daddy that sweet cream…” The nigga wraps his whole mouth ‘’round my pussy and sucks ’n slurps. Five minutes later, a bitch is shakin’ and squirtin’ a nut into his mouth and onto his tongue. He swallows, licks up the rest of my juices, then says, “Gotdaaaamn, you gotta sweet, creamy pussy.”

  I can’t front. The muhfucka gotta bitch lightheaded and seein’ stars ’n shit. I lay still for a minute to catch my breath and get my mind right. After that nut, I really wanna blaze, but a bitch’s tryna keep it cute ’til I get custody of the baby. On some real shit, I’m glad Alex doesn’t say nuthin’ ’bout sparkin’ up ’cause I don’t know how cute a kush-lovin’ bitch like me could keep it.