by Xuri Foxx
We were barely fuckin’. Not that it was her fault. I was the one whose mind was somewhere else. I was mourning. I was focused and frustrated that I didn’t have a damn thing to go on yet. I didn’t need her nagging me with questions; I needed her to be there for me. Just hug a nigga, lay up with a nigga, and leave the third degree at the door.
The fact of the matter was that I felt fucked up. Felt like I failed my brother. Too much time had passed and I didn’t have shit to go on. Wanna see a grown ass man cry? Kill the only real family he ever felt he had. That’s who Stan was to me.
I was seated in the VIP section talking to a few of the homies from around the way, Turk and Dwayne. Cool as fuck. Different turfs, but down ass cats.
“I just wanted to pay my respects to you and tell you how sorry I am that you lost your brother,” Dwayne offered.
“Thanks man. I appreciate that.”
“Yeah, man…” Turk followed, “Stan was good peeps. Sorry about that. We got our ears to the streets too man. So you ain’t at this alone.”
“Real talk though, Larry,” Dwayne cosigned. “You ain’t alone. Stan was like family to us so you need us…holla.”
“One,” I said, nodding my head towards them both.
“Y’all hangin’ out the whole night?” I asked, offering them each a cigar.
“Til’ the doors lock, blood. This joint is it! Y’all did this! What kinda cigars is these my dude?” Turk asked, taking a drag.
“Gurkha’s Her Majesty’s Reserve. You like?”
He exhaled. “Do I like? Nigga this shit is bomb!”
I laughed at how hyped Turk was behind the cigars. It was the response we got from everybody when they had one and we only gave them to VIP’s.
“They’re special alright. Each one of them muthafuckas got 18-year-old tobacco in ‘em. And been soaked in a $2,500 bottle of Louis XIII de Rémy Martin cognac.”
“Baller status and shit! What they like $200 each?” Dwayne asked.
I laughed. “Try $15,000 a box and $750 for a single.”
“Psh! Shit. I need to be on some shit like this! We need to be on some shit like this, right Turk? Y’all looking for partners, Larry?”
“Nah, man. This was all Stan. We runnin’ it, but more than likely it’s gonna come down to what Monique wants to do. It’s hers now.”
“Word, word…well, I need to be looking at real estate my damn self. Nigga thinking about settlin’ down and I want my money in some legit shit when I do that,” Dwayne commented.
“What you gonna get? One of them sassy hoes that got her head on straight? College educated and shit.”
“Pretty much!” Dwayne blurted out. “And you know those type of broads don’t fuck with a dirty nigga. Not for long anyway.”
“Shiiit!” Turk yelled out. “Bitches could care less where yo’ racks comin’ from long as they got shoes and a lifestyle!”
I laughed at Turk. His face was all the way serious, but his delivery was straight comedy.
“Nah, Turk. I agree with Dwayne. All these broads ain’t the same and at the end of the day, a real woman don’t wanna be worried about where her nigga money comin’ from, if he comin’ home safe at night, and if he got cases to fight. She ain’t stickin’ around for that shit. So, I’m with D on this one.”
“Aww, Ebony & Ivory! y’all pretty ass niggas wanna stick together and shit. I’m goin’ to come up on a shoes and lifestyle type bitch. Y’all have fun!”
All three of us laughed out loud. Then when Turk was out of earshot, Dwayne leaned back against the leather booth. “So, y’all really don’t know nothin’ yet, Larry?”
“I hate to admit it, but nah…we don’t know shit, man.”
“How is Monique? Been a minute since I saw her last.”
“My girl is always over there with her and the baby. I think she’s cool. As cool as she can be, you know?”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Then Dwayne paused for a few seconds. “Can I ask you something?”
“Fa sho,” I responded.
“Have you stopped to think it could be close? I mean real close?”
I looked at him and it was like the music, and all the voices stopped around me. I started feeling like he knew something that I didn’t know. “Why you say that?” I asked him.
“It just seems real odd that ain’t nobody…I mean, nobody, got shit to say. It ain’t like Stan had hella enemies either. Anything happen around y’alls way in the last few weeks? Sometimes niggas’ll let shit die down then strike, so can you think of anything?”
“Man you sound like the PoPo!” I said, laughing at him.
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Nah, I know.” I didn’t wanna tell Dwayne that I had actually thought about it being on the inside. The last thing you ever want an outsider to know is that your house is crumbling—especially if you’re not sure. So I had to keep it cool, and made an open ended comment: “You really can’t put nothin’ past anybody.” And that was how I left it with him.
A few minutes into me and Dwayne choppin’ it up about Stan, I heard: “Hey Larry, what’s up?”
When she walked up, Dwayne looked at me with a side eye, smiled and forfeited his seat.
“I’ll check you in a minute, man. ‘Bout to go mingle a bit.”
“Alright,” I said, nodding my head at him.
“Hey Lola. What’s good? How you doin’?”
She sat in Dwayne’s seat then scooted closer to where I sat. I stared her down, and let my eyes follow the trail to her hips. I knew it was wrong, but shit, she was fine as hell. Lil’ educated half-breed chick with thick hips, nice lips, and good ass sex between her thighs.
“I’m good,” she said, rubbing her hand along the top of mine. I heard about Stan. I hope you’ve been okay,” she said, laying her hand on my thigh.
“A nigga cool.”
“As cool as you can be expected, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
The more I looked into her brown eyes, the more I was starting to feel like I should abandon the situation that was growing in my pants, but something wouldn’t let me.
“You know whenever you’re ready, I can help take some of the pain away. I can tell that you’re trying to stay strong, but you know you’ve never had to be that with me.”
“Yeah…” I said, watching her lips. “I know.”
“Who you here with? Ya girls?”
“Nah, I’m solo tonight,” she smiled. “On purpose. I didn’t want any baggage to get rid of in case you had plans for me.”
“Is that right?” I asked her. Bold. Just the way I like ‘em. I couldn’t help myself. She’s a bad one. “You drove ya’self?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Alright. I’m probably gonna be here for about another hour, then I can meet you at your crib. That cool?”
“Always,” she said, staring into my eyes. “I’ll be waiting.” She got up and winked at me before walking off in her tight ass black dress.
Damn.
~*~*~
When I parked my ride, Lola was already at her front door waiting for me. The bold bitch that she is, she had already left the dress in the house and was standing at the entrance to her door—naked all the way down to her black pumps. Her nipples were staring at a nigga, and all I could think about was gettin’ the pussy wet enough to slide up in. Nothing about what I was gettin’ ready to get into felt wrong. I was ready!
I chirped my car alarm, and the moment I got inside and the door was closed, Lola didn’t waste a minute. She tore at my white suit, and got me down to nothing in seconds. I could tell the bitch was hungry for the dick. She left a nigga standing against the back of the door while she dropped to her knees and took the dick so far down her throat I had to break from a moan, to make sure my pole was still there!
Fuck Karrine Steffans! Superhead was on my dick on some porn star shit! Slurpin’, and suckin’ all the nut from a nigga. If my toes wasn’t firmly planted on her plush ass carpet, them mut
hafuckas woulda been curled the fuck up. I grabbed her head and fucked her jaws fast and hard until my nut busted through the tip of my dick. I took a few deep breaths to catch up to the moment and looked down to see Lola smiling up at me.
“I’ve been wanting that for a cool minute, Larry. A cool minute,” she repeated.
“Shit I can’t tell,” I said, joking. The truth was, I could tell and she served that shit up right.
“You’re funny. This here…” she said, holding my dick hostage in her hand, “…is a lotta dick for one female, so know you always got a second home when you want it.”
“You say that like our time is up,” I said, pulling her up.
“Oh no,” she said, placing wet kisses along my chest. “There’s plenty more where that came from. I’m about to give this fine thick thang a tour of my candy store. Any hole you want tonight is yours for the taking. And you ain’t even gotta be nice about it.”
“Damnn…like that?”
“Just like that,” she purred. “Like I said…it’s yours any time you want it, and any way you want it.”
She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. She stood on her tiptoes and slid her tongue along my neck and along my ear, the whole time she had my dick in her hand massaging. Rock hard…again.
She laid me back onto her black silk sheets and straddled my shit. Before I could even get a word out about a condom, she was sliding her wet, warm, pussy across my dick. Fuck a rubber! All I could see was slim hips gyrating in slow motion, and titties bouncing as she took control.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride.
Fuck.
Nothin’ like a bitch that know how to dominate the dick like she own it.
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In "Street Symphony: A Tainted Love Story", Symphony Andrews is the visionary and founder of a private company that primarily deals with matters of the streets. Symphony and her crew takes the term ‘Street justice’ to a whole other level. Like most, Symphony has a past...a past so dark that it's forbidden to discuss. It was all about the money and covering the secrets from her past, until she met him.
Mitchell "Money Mitch" O'Connor is the man behind the scenes, always moving in silence and making plays under the radar. After suffering a tragic loss his one and only goal was to get to the bottom of what happened and find who was responsible. Love wasn’t on his radar. However, when fate took control and his path crosses with Symphony’s, a love story begins to unfold.
Boundaries are set but almost instantly eradicated as the two try to navigate through loving each other and taking care of business. A relationship built on a weak foundation isn’t one that is built to last. Can Symphony and Mitch be the exception to this rule? Find out in this tainted love story.
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