by Ca$H
“Indy, baby, you good?” The worry in voice was evident.
India wasn’t good. She’d been keeping a secret for the past two days, afraid to tell him because it was still earlier in their relationship. She was also scared he’d flip out and throw out false accusations. She’d seen it done so many times with niggas who was in his line of work. She was scared his reaction would ruin the honeymoon state they were in.
“Come on, baby girl, you good.” Jay’Shawn wiped her mouth with tissue before pressing the bathroom cup filled with water to her lips.
After she finished the cup of water, he pulled her up from the floor and sat her on the counter and then went to run the bath water.
“Shawn.” She paused once she got his attention. Her mouth opened then closed again. Not knowing how to tell him, she figured now was the best time if any. “Jay’Shawn.” He once again he looked up at her. “Shawn, I’m pregnant.”” She felt so relieved getting it off her chest.
India hadn’t been feeling well for a few weeks and she’d gone to the health clinic and learned she was two and a half months pregnant. She’d gotten pregnant on their first meeting.
Jay’Shawn turned off the bath water while turning to face India. His brow raised as his head tilted sideways. “What?” He asked in a confused tone.
“I said I’m pregnant…”
The End
A Long Time Cumming
By
Ca$h
Sonja sat on the sofa in her living room, sipping on a glass of iced tea and listening to the old Mary J. Blige and Method Man’s classic All I Need. That song always took her back down memory lane to 1994 when she was a twenty-one year old hottie and so in love with a nigga named Reasun. That young, handsome, thug had come from New York to Fort Worth, Texas and put the game in a headlock. During his brief rule in the streets, muthafuckas had to get down or lay down.
Niggas learned quickly that Reasun would push a fool's cap back without hesitation. Every time someone mentioned his name or told a tale of how he had left another rival's body bullet-riddled and slumped, Sonja’s panties would get sticky wet. There was something, back then, about a killah that put fear in other killahs that turned her the fuck on.
Sonja recalled longingly how Reasun’s name was on the tongue of every girl in the hood, but she was the one he had chosen. Every single time that big, black hunk of a man called her Ma, his deep baritone sent a surge of sexual energy coursing through her body. Her nipples would harden at the mere touch of his hand. When he wrapped her in his powerful arms and kissed her, Sonja’s clit would jump out of its delicate hood and go crazy inside of her panties. And when he entered her with all of that manhood that he packed, her pussy squirted cream all over his thick, hard shaft.
Strongly reminiscing, she had to squeeze her thighs together tightly to keep her coochie quiet.
Lawd, that man knew how to make me scream his name.
Sonja inhaled deeply then let her breath out slowly. Their love had been a six month whirlwind of dangerous excitement and endless days of counting money, whipping up product, and sucking and fucking until the sun came up, then they would fall asleep, spooned together and satiated just to repeat the process the next day and the next.
The sex was absolutely intoxicating, but the one thing that stood out most in her memory was that Reasun had been a one woman man. She never had to worry about him disrespecting her with the next bitch or slinging dick all over Forth Worth. In return, Sonja had been his ride or die long before the title became cliché. Back then, a bitch had to earn wifey status, good pussy and a sick head game wasn't enough. She had held money, drugs, and secrets of his that could've sent her to prison for a very long time. But the way he had held her made it so very worth the risks.
Damn, baby, it’s been twenty years and I still miss you.
She wrapped both hands around the glass and closed her eyes as bittersweet memories of her one and only love brought a smile to her face and tears to her eyes. Enemies had ambushed him up on the hill on Wellesley Ave. and left him with his brains splattered on the windshield of his Benz. The day Reasun died, a part of her soul had perished along with him. Many said she hadn't smiled since. One thing for certain, she definitely hadn't loved again and she doubted that she ever would.
Sonja swallowed her pain as Mary sang beautifully.
Like sweet morning dew
I took one look at you
And it was plain to see
You were my destiny
With you I'll spend my time
I'll dedicate my life, I'll sacrifice for you
Dedicate my life for you
Sonja sang right along with Mary. And when Method Man started rapping, she matched him word for word. She recalled her and Reasun at Como Lake, sitting on the hood of his ride bumping that song.
Every ho’ that walked past cut their eyes at her enviously. The dudes nodded their heads at Reasun in salute. Sonja had loved basking in the glow of his immense street reputation. Her nigga was a hood celebrity and everybody recognized her as his girl. Then, in the snap of a finger it was all snatched away and she was shipping his body back to New York.
Sonja still wondered which one of those bitch ass niggas ultimately betrayed her man. She had never found out. But neither would she ever give up her search for the identities of his killers, although it seemed as fruitless as her search for a love that would help her not miss him so much.
There had been others since the day her soul died, but none of them had ever been able to measure up to her boo. In fact, in comparison to him their hustles were petty and their glow was dim. In bed, those nigga’s dick games was trash. Besides, if a man’s aura didn't get her juices flowing long before they hit the sheets the thrill just wouldn't be there. And the way men were built these days, they wanted her and every other rwoman with a big ass. The fuck if she was going to be a muthafucka’s side piece. Reasun had shown her that she deserved to be the one and only.
Five years ago, Sonja had decided that until she met a man that could measure up to him, she would be celibate and please herself. She had a cachè of toys upstairs in her bedroom to help her along.
And I'm about to use one of those bad boys tonight, she thought as she sat her iced tea on a coaster on the end table and rose up from the couch with her pussy already throbbing in anticipation.
Sonja’s supple ass jiggled as she went to close and lock the front door, which she had left ajar to let a little fresh air in. Standing behind the locked screen door looking out onto the streets, she saw the familiar movements up and down the block where she resided on the hill in Como, a neighborhood on the Westside of Fort Worth. Stylish trucks and cars drove by bumping an array of rap music and young boys hung out on the block, hustling incognito. And at any moment the clap of gunshots could erupt and disturb the tenuous peace.
Sonja had lived in this hood her entire life, so the ever-present danger that lurked all around her didn't faze her one bit. Besides, she had a baby nine-millimeter sitting close by and if any drama came to her front door, she was going to stamp that shit return to sender.
A smile crept on Sonja’s face. At forty-one years old she was still gangsta. She brought her hand up to shield her eyes against the intense rays of the June sun. Looking across the street she saw two men who she recognized, standing nose to nose, apparently engaged in a dispute. One of them was KeyShawn, a twenty-eight year old D-boy that reminded her of Reasun in many ways. He was well over six feet, muscular, and as black as Texas tea. KeyShawn had a few trap houses in Como and he was known to rule over them with an AK-47 that he didn't hesitate to let spit.
KeyShawn’s arms moved animatedly and his voice boomed, “Bruh, if you don't go get my cheddar—every last dollar of it—I’ma make the coroner call your family with some sad news. Test my muthafuckin’ get down if you want to!” He grabbed ahold of the man’s collar and shoved a ratchet in his face.
A few seconds later, Sonja watched as KeyShawn led the man named Bo inside a ho
use. She shook her head, wondering why Bo would test a nigga like KeyShawn’s gangsta.
Doesn’t he know he’s messing with a beast? Sonja felt her pussy tingle. Ten or fifteen years ago she would've cuffed KeyShawn and helped him refine some on that goon shit. With her at his side he could lock the game down.
Closing the door and heading upstairs, Sonja couldn’t help carrying images of KeyShawn’s young butt with her. She wondered if he had a thorough chick on his team or if the wrong lil’ bitch was going to be his downfall. She hoped like hell he wouldn’t let the latter happen. KeyShawn was a real nigga and deserved much better.
Sonja knew that because one day, almost a year ago, One time—as they referred to the police—was all over the block looking for him in connection with a shooting. Sonja had hid KeyShawn in her house for nearly forty-eight hours until the block cooled down and the cops dispersed. During those two days, they had spent a lot of time talking about the game and sharing their ideas on life in general. Sonja was left with the impression that KeyShawn was a serious young man with strong street principles and his seasoned swag was a definite turn on. Often, Sonja chided herself for even thinking about that young boy in that way.
She walked to her window, parted the blinds, and looked up the street just in time to see KeyShawn headed to his car clutching a shoe bag. She hadn't heard any gunshots, so she concluded that Bo must’ve wised up and paid what he owed. Good, she thought as she allowed the part in the blinds to close.
An hour later, the sun had retreated and the sky darkened. Sonja was enjoying a relaxing bubble bath. Vanilla scented candles burned and the soft blue lighting in the bathroom jibed well with the sounds of Maxwell that played from the iPod in her bedroom.
Imagining her ideal man singing the lyrics softly in her ear, Sonja leaned her head back and caressed her nipples. They instantly became taut and ached to be sucked. She lifted one of her 40DD's up to her mouth and ran her tongue around the nipple.
“Ummmm,” Sonja moaned.
She parted her thighs, sunk her hand down into the bath water and let it slowly creep up her thick, red, luscious thighs to her pulsating pussy. Her lower lips swelled as she sensuously parted them and delicately ran her finger up and down the length of her opening. Heat rose up her body and caused her lips to quiver as she moaned loudly. Her honeypot was on fire.
Sonja dipped a finger inside of her steaming vagina and her ass rose up to meet her probing digit. “Sssssss.” She imagined that her finger was Reasun’s skilled tongue. “Baby, baby, baby,” she cried out.
Sonja’s legs opened wider and her finger sank deeper inside of her buttery cup. Her tight pussy gripped and massaged it like it was nine inches of male beef. As her passion built up, she removed her sticky finger from her kitty and ran it tenderly up her split until it came in contact with her excited clitoris.
The moment she touched that sensitive little bud, lights exploded inside of her head. She circled her pearl familiarly until her hips rocked back and forth with her manipulations. Her mouth opened and she let out a long wail. Damn, she needed something black, thick and long inside of her.
Sonja continued to rub her clit until it throbbed. The faster she rubbed, the harder it grew. She used her thumb to tantalize the slippery bud while inserting two fingers from the same hand inside of her hot canal. She knew exactly where her weak spot was and her fingers went straight to that small spongy area. Oh, how she wanted to explode!
“Eat me,” she uttered, trying to summon up memories of Reasun pushing her legs over her head and sucking her pussy like it was a sweet, delicious peach. Usually, that was all it took and Sonja would erupt like a volcano. But this time she was unable to picture his face. To her surprise a different but very familiar face appeared in her imagery. When that young, dark chocolate, thug covered her pussy with his thick lips, she sucked in her breath and her head felt dizzy. “Oh, my God! Don’t stop!” she cried out.
Sonja squeezed her eyes tighter and tried to freeze his image in her mind, but somehow it disappeared completely. “Noooooooo!” she groaned in frustration. She tried to will his thuggishly handsome face to reappear. Her thumb rubbed rapidly and her two fingers delved deeper into her gooey G-spot. But with no image in her mind she could not reach a climax.
Thoroughly unsated, and with her V on fire, Sonja got out of the tub, dried off, and hurried to her room to retrieve her toys.
Fuck that shit.
Tonight, she was going to use her Mandingo dildo. That muthafucka would fill her up very nicely and hopefully give her the body-shaking climax that she needed.
As she brought the long, thick, black instrument out of the top drawer of her nightstand and unwrapped it from its protective cloth, she lifted it to her mouth and licked the bulbous head.
“Daddy, I want you to punish mama’s pussy tonight. You hear me?” She spoke to the dildo in a low, seductive tone as if it was the thugged out nigga that she still craved.
Giddy and hot with a wet pussy that was in bad need of relief, Sonja made her way to the bed. She laid on her back and placed a pillow under her bodacious ass, tilting it up for a good self-fuck. Just as she brought the tip of the dildo to her pearl tongue, the intrusive sound of her doorbell interrupted her stimulation.
“Mannnn, what the fuck!” she yelled. “Ugh!”
Sonja laid still and prayed that whoever was at the door would get the hell on somewhere and let a bitch get a nut. But the fuck if they did. The untimely visitor laid on the doorbell, intent on getting her to answer. “Jesus muthafuckin’ Christ,” she growled.
Reluctantly, she hopped out of bed, threw on a short robe, and stomped downstairs. Without checking the peephole, she snatched the door open and stood there with her hands on her wide hips and a scowl on her pretty red face.
“Don't shoot me,” he said. His deep, manly voice melted her frown instantaneously. She stood looking up into the face of that nigga who had just visited her imagination. After a full minute he said, “You gon’ stand there all night or you gon’ invite me in?” The little smile on his face underscored the lightness of his tone. And that gorgeously black muthafucka had the nerve to have a deep dimple in his right cheek. It was her first time noticing that.
Sonja could hardly talk, her pussy was having a fit and the breeze of the night air caused her nipples to poke out of the sheer material of her robe. She let out a slow breath and stepped aside without saying a word.
KeyShawn’s long dreads hung down his back as he walked inside with a backpack slung over his broad shoulders. As he took a seat on her couch, he could hear music coming from upstairs. “Oh, my bad. Did I interrupt anything?” He rose up off of the couch, ready to leave without stating his purpose for stopping by.
Sonja almost tackled him. “Not at all. I'm here alone as always,” she emphasized. A hand on his sculpted chest encouraged him to sit back down. She took a seat in an overstuffed chair across from him, wondering why she had felt the need to stress she was always alone. “Uh—” she stuttered “what can I do for you? Do you need a place to hide out again? I mean, if the police are—”
He put a large hand up to cut her off. “Nah, it’s nothin’ like that. Not really.”
Sonja watched his lips move and the tingle between her thighs made her squirm around in her seat. She studied those long fingers of KeyShawn's and imagined them going in and out of her excited pussy.
Damn, I'm acting like a cougar. Calm down, she chastised herself.
“You okay?” he asked, picking up on her discomfort but unaware of what was causing it.
All Sonja could do was nod her head up and down. She was afraid to open her mouth or a primal cry might have escaped. KeyShawn licked his lips. “Well, I know this is going to catch you off guard but just hear me out.” He sat the backpack on the floor between his feet and scooted up to the edge of the sofa. Leaning forward and taking both of her hands in his, he spoke with the confidence of one who was used to getting what he wanted. “Tomorrow I have to turn myself into t
he feds to begin serving a five year bid. I came to make you my woman before I go away.”
At first Sonja was speechless—that had surely came out of left field. Then she regained her cool. “Just like that, huh?” she asked.
“Nah, there’s a little more to it,” he replied.
“You mind sharing?”
“Not at all, baby.” He stroked her palms with his fingers sending sexual electricity straight to her moistening center. “Like I said, I gotta go do a bid. I don’t have a soul out here I can trust. I got a baby mama, but I don't fuck with her like that. I take care of my seed but that’s it. Every dollar that I’ve saved up is inside this bag.” He patted the backpack on the floor. “I’ve shed and spread blood for those old dead white men in there and there’s no way I’m leaving it with any of the thirsty muthafuckas I know. I wanna leave it with you because I know your story and I know you’re real. I don’t think you would fuck over me,” he said and looked into her eyes for confirmation.
Sonja gave it to him unfettered. “I wouldn’t,” she assured. “But baby, you don't have to make me your woman to protect your money. I would never do you dirty.”
“I know that. Trust me, that’s not why I wanna make you my woman. Ever since we spent those two nights talking and sharing our stories, I’ve thought about you constantly. I kept trying to wait until I built my weight up on the streets, then I was going to step to you. But life didn't play out like that. So I’m here now, asking you to be my mine. With a woman like you by my side, when I return to the streets I’ll go straight to the top.”
Sonja pondered what he had just said. She couldn’t deny that his young ass was worth the risk. If he was serious, she would have herself a real boss in the making. With her wisdom at his disposal they could truly prosper. Five years was a long time, but the way her loyalty was set up, she could do that shit without blinking an eye. But what if she dedicated herself to him and he came home five years later on the bullshit? Or maybe he was already running game, she considered.
