by Cairo
“Bitch, boom! I’m not usin’ my good trashbags to put her shit in. Take her them grocery bags. And be on ya way.”
She pulls out one of the Ziploc bags. “Ohmygod, what the fuck is this?”
“Her bloody, stained drawers. The bitch’s nasty. But she’s yo’ headache now.”
She blinks. “Oh, no, bitch, I can’t have this. I can’t have no ho who keeps her drawers dirty stayin’ with me. It’s bad enough I gotta wash out Knutz’s boxers when he stains his. And I told you she can’t stay long. I still have Knutz’s nephew stayin’ wit’ us.”
I frown. Ugh! “Well, let’s hope they ain’t in there fuckin’ him ’cause Day’Asia’s ass likes to fuck.” I shoot a look over at Knutz who seems all ears ’n shit. “And niggah, if you even think it, yo’ shit’s gettin’ sliced off.”
“Yo, I ain’t into lil-ass girls. So go ’head wit’ that shit. I like ’em young, but not jailhouse young.”
Dickalina shoots him a look. “Niggah, what is you sayin’? What young pussy is you sniffin’ around?”
I scream at Isaiah and Elijah. Tell them to take their nosey-asses in the house before I whoop the shit outta ’em. I slip my heels off, then walk over to beat ’em both upside the head with ’em. They take off runnin’ around the back of the house, laughin’.
I keep from laughin’ myself. These two clown-asses. “Niggahs, ain’t shit funny. Y’all get ya black asses washed up, then put some clean clothes on so we can go out.” I decide I’m takin’ ’em out to eat, then to the movies to see the new Madea movie.
Lina’s ass is still arguin’ with Knutz. “Niggah, let me catch you wit’ some other bitch and I’ma tear her ass up, then I’ma stab you for real this time. The last time I only cut you, but this time I’ma stab you up good. And I mean it, Knutz. I ain’t playin’ wit’ ya black ass.”
He sucks his teeth. “See now. We was havin’ a good time. Now you wanna beef.”
“Well, you had no goddamn bidness sayin’ that shit about you likin’ young girls to Cass and I’m standin’ right here. You know how embarrassin’ that was?”
“I know, babe,” he says, pullin’ her into him. “I ain’t mean no harm. You know I was only poppin’ shit. I ain’t thinkin’ about them young hoes.” She tries to smack him with her clutch. He grabs her arm. “Stop. You know you da only one for me.”
I can’t believe I’m standin’ here watchin’ this shit.
“I better be, Knutz.”
“You are, boo.” He kisses her on the lips. I watch her nip ’em.
“See,” he says, grabbin’ and squeezin’ her ass. “You tryna get shit started.”
“Uh-huh. And you bet’ not be lookin’ at Candy or Tina, either.”
“They like daughters to me.” He slaps her on the ass. “Yo, let’s go home and handle thangs.”
“Oooh okay.” She turns to me. “Girl, me and my man ’bout to be out.” I watch her slip her helmet on over her head, then fasten it. She picks up the bags and hands them to Knutz, then hoists herself up in the basket. As soon as she’s all situated, she tells him to give her the bags. “Cass, you need to get ya mind right and let Asia come home. I’ma let her stay wit’ me for a week or two, but then you gonna need to let her come back home.”
I roll my eyes. I already told her what it is. So ain’t no need in sayin’ shit else about it. So I let her keep babblin’ on. “Oh, baby I almost forgot to remind you. Tell Cass about ya friend you wanna introduce her to.”
I frown.
“Oh right, right. Damn, baby. You good. Daddy almost forgot. Yo, Cass, one of my mans just gotta outta da joint a few days ago, and he’s tryna get into sumthin’. I told him about you. And he wanna holla at you.”
“Uh-huh,” Lina cosigns. “Fresh outta da hoosegow, girl. And he’s fine, too. Baby, what’s L’s real name?”
“See there you go askin’ about shit that ain’t got nuthin’ to do wit’ you,” Knutz snaps. “And what da fuck you mean ‘he’s fine?’ Yo, I’m tellin’ you Lina, let me find out you tryna be on some snake shit and wanna fuck my mans. I’ma bust yo’ ass.”
“Knutz, stop. You know I told you he was fine. Not for me, for Cass. You know she like ’em all rough and tatted up. So quit.”
“Listen, y’all niggahs need to take all this arguin’ back on over to the projects. I’m not with this ghetto shit over here. And I ain’t with tryna meet some niggah Knutz knows, so no thank you.”
Lina rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth. “Well, fuck you then. I’m tryna help ya miserable ass out. But whatever. Let’s go Knutz. This ungrateful bitch ain’t ready for no niggah like L.”
“Yeah, we out,” Knutz says.
“Well, get the fuck on,” I snap as he backs up his bike, then turns around and pedals outta the driveway.
Lina yells out, “We still goin’ out tomorrow night?”
I ignore her ass, walkin’ back into my house and slammin’ the damn door.
Thirty-Five
“Yeah, a bitch like me wanna suck a dick,” I ad-lib, makin’ up words as I sing along to LoveRance’s “Beat the Pussy Up.” I’m down at The Crack House with Dickalina and I’m feelin’ right, goddammit! “Yesssss, do me right, damn it!” I bounce up ’n down. The three Cum Stains I’ve tossed back have kicked in, and I’m feelin’ frisky ’n ready to fuck. Whew, yes! I drop down low, then pop it back up, tossin’ a hand up in the air. “Wanna take it in the ass . . . make a niggah nut . . . aaaah, yessss . . . ”
“Cass, girl,” Dickalina says, poppin’ it up next to me. “You cray-cray for real . . . Oooh, yes . . . I love this beat . . . I can’t wait to get home and let Knutz beat it up . . . Owww . . . ”
I roll my eyes as she’s tootsie-rollin’ it, then goin’ into the butterfly. She has her ass tooted up and her tongue hangin’ outta her mouth, like she’s bringin’ it. Bless sugah-boo’s lil’ gutter rat heart. I swear Dickalina’s my girl and all, but . . . whatever. I’m not even goin’ there. I came to get my party on. Not analyze her dumb ass.
I start poppin’ my hips and bouncin’ my ass real freaky-like, then spin around toward the door just as a posse of eight strappin’ niggahs walks in. Raw hood niggahs dipped in bling. They reek of trouble and good times. My cunt flutters. My asshole puckers.
“Come beat this hole up, motherfuckas . . . aaah, shit, yeah . . . ” I sing, lookin’ over in their direction. I sweep the floor with it as LoveRance lets the bitches know how he beats the pussy up. I jump up and down, then do a little two-step and spin.
“Ahhhh, shit, now . . . Oooh, yes . . . this is my shit . . . aaah . . . ” I throw a hand up in the air and sway my hips. “Bitch like me . . . knows how to fuck a dick . . . know how to suck a dick . . . Big Booty y’all . . . make a niggah nut . . . nut . . . nut . . . while you beat it up, up, up . . . make it wet, make it wet . . . then make it skeet, skeet, skeet . . . !”
I keep my eyes on ’em as they make their way around the bar over to the VIP section, which really ain’t no VIP if you ask me since all it is is five round tables and four booths that are blocked off with red velvet rope. They could at least put some drapes up to block nosey-ass niggahs from bein’ all up in the mix. Mmmph. And you gotta buy two bottles minimum to be seated there.
Oooh, yes! I’d fuck every last one of ’em—even the big, black grizzly-lookin’ niggah walkin’ ahead of ’em like he’s king of the streets—if I were a greedy ho. But there are two that really stand out and make my pussy purr. One is tall and chiseled with beautiful tar-dark skin. He looks like he should be on the cover of XXL or some other shit. The other is a lil’ shorter than him. And he’s an extra-crispy niggah with shoulder-length dreds. He’s so black he almost looks purple. But it’s sexy ’cause he ain’t all ashy-lookin’ with it. There’s nothin’ worse than a dark niggah who looks like he’s been rolled in powder.
When the DJ starts playin’ Plies’ “Fuckin’ You” I really turn it up. This niggah’s music makes my pussy soooo wet. Oooh, yes . . . mmph! I wonder if he really
got that good dick or if the niggah talkin’ mad shit like so many other niggahs. I hike up my skirt, then bend over and pull out my thick four-inch butt plug, then I start poppin’ my asscheeks and dippin’ at the knees. Niggahs start goin’ wild. I toss a hand up in the air, wavin’ my butt plug like I just don’t care. And I don’t. I’m here to have a good goddamn time.
“Whoo-hooo. . . . this pussy feel good . . . I take it in the ass, take in the throat . . . pussy on fire . . . whose fuckin’ tonight, whose fuckin’ tonight . . . ”
I start dancin’ all fast ’n hard ’n nasty, gettin’ the crowd all amped, like I always do. I slide my butt plug into my mouth, then slowly pull it out, lickin all around the sides of it. “Ass so sweet . . . who wanna lick? Who wanna stick . . . ? Oooow, do that shit, do that shit . . . ”
Niggahs start chantin’, “Go, Booty! Go, Booty!”
“Oh, daaaaayum, yo!” I overhear someone shoutin’ over the music. “You see that shit, son? She done pulled a dildo outta her ass . . . ”
“Yo, she on some real freaky-type shit.”
“Do that shit, Big Booty,” Dickalina shouts. “Let ’em know what you workin’ with, girl. Ooow . . . ” She starts clappin’ and doin’ some kinda “Oh Happy Day” shit, like she’s somewhere gettin’ her praise ’n worship on. Mmmph. A damn mess!
Two songs later, I’m wrappin’ my assplug into a napkin, then droppin’ it down in my handbag as I sit back up at the bar. Big Mike slides me another Cum Stain. And I take two long sips. Oooh, these damn drinks are doin’ me right, goddammit! I take two more sips, then sit my drink up on the bar, watchin’ Lina doin’ the Dougie. She’s all tanked up on Speedballs—shots of Stoli, Tanqueray, and Cuervo with a splash of lime juice. Oooh, she’s goin’ hard, workin’ the shit outta it. She drops down, touches the floor with it, then snakes it back up. Oooh, those drinks really got Miss Dickalina doin’ stunts tonight. I chuckle as some brown-skinned niggah inches up in back of her and starts tryna bring it to her.
I laugh as she drops down into a split, then bounces back up. “Go ’head, Lina! Pop that pussy up on ’im, sugah-boo!”
I hop up off the barstool and shake it back on the dance floor when the deejay starts playin’ Future’s “Bitches Ain’t Shit.” “Aaaaah, yes . . . Niggahs ain’t shit . . . I’ll trick ’em off their money . . . twerkin’ it . . . murkin’ it . . . fuck ’em to sleep . . . Yesssss, goddammit . . . !”
When the deejay slows it down with Lil’ Wayne’s “Pussy Money Weed” I start swayin’ my hips to the beat, runnin’ my hands through my hair. This song makes me wanna give a niggah the business tonight. “Yessssss . . . pussy, money, weed . . . do me right, goddammit!”
I dance it up for another two songs, then pop my hips back over to the bar. Lina’s drunk ass follows behind me. “Giiirl,” she slurs as she sits up on her stool. “I’m havin’ me a damn good time.” Dickalina’s all sweaty and lookin’ extra greasy. She dabs a napkin across her forehead, then at the back of her neck. “Oooh, all these niggahs in here got me wantin’ to do some thangs. I gotta get home and fuck Knutz . . . Oooh, he gotta big ole juicy dick, Cass . . . this music got me so horny . . . ”
I frown. “Coon, I don’t wanna hear no shit about how big Knutz’s damn dick is. Drunk bitch! Is you crazy?”
“I’m just sayin’. Damn, bitch. And no I ain’t drunk. I’m nice.”
“Oh, you nice ’n drunk.”
She pokes her lips out. “Cassie, why you gotta call me a coon ’n shit? All I’m doin’ is sharin’ sumthin’ wit’ you.”
I tilt my head. “ ’Cause that’s what the hell you are for flappin’ ya goddamn jaws about how big your niggah’s dingdong is. Ho, I don’t like the niggah, number one, so I don’t give a fuck. But, if I was some real thirsty bitch that stayed on that slut juice, I’d be tryna see the dick for myself.”
“But I know you ain’t like that so I ain’t gotta worry about you tryna fuck my man.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Oooh these Speedballs are good. Speakin’ of dick. You really should meet Knutz’s friend L, Cass. He really wants to meet you.”
I twist my lips up. L? I heard that name before. I wonder if he’s the same niggah AJ was talkin’ about. Hmmm. “And where’s the niggah from, and how Knutz know him?”
“I don’t know where he’s from ’cause Knutz ain’t tell me. But I know they were in the county together last year. And they were also at Northern State together the last time Knutz was in prison. All I know is, he is fine. And from what Knutz says about him, he’s wild as hell. And a freak.”
“Mmmph. What, him and Knutz was fuckin’ or somethin’?”
“Bitch, is you crazy? Hell no. Knutz ain’t even gay like that. Although he told me he let some niggah suck his dick and lick his ass a few times before. But that was when he was locked up in his twenties.”
I frown. “Bitch, TM-motherfuckin’-I. I don’t need to know shit about Knutz lettin’ another niggah top him off or toss his salad. And you know about this, how?”
“ ’Cause he told me.”
“Bitch, I’m lookin’ at you sideways now.”
“Cass, puhleeze. It’s no biggie. I know Knutz ain’t with that. He experimented. Besides, he ain’t da first or da last niggah who done had another niggah suckin’ on his dick while he was locked up. At least he told me about it. More than what I can say for other niggahs.”
I blink. This ratchet bitch done gone from hoodrat to gutter rat tellin’ me this bullshit. Some shit ain’t never, ever, supposed to fall outta ya goddamn mouth. And ya niggah getting’ his dicked sucked by another niggah is one of those things you take to the motherfuckin’ grave. Oooh, this bitch! I toss back my drink. Then order another one. This ho is crazy. But whatever!
“Anyway, girl. That niggah L really wants Knutz to hook you up wit’ him. I think you might like him. He likes to fuck like you, too. But Knutz said he don’t like no one fuckin’ wit’ his balls ’cause some crazy bitch he was messin’ wit’ tried to bite ’em off.”
I frown. “Ugh. What kinda bitches he fuckin’ with? Mmmmph. Well, I ain’t sayin’ I wanna meet his ass. And I ain’t tryna play with his balls so whatever. Is the niggah broke?”
She stares at me. “Bitch, how I know. He just got outta the county. You know he probably gotta get his stacks up. Right now he tryna have a good time. And when I told him you like it in da ass he started droolin’ and practically goin’ crazy.”
“You did what? Bitch, don’t be tellin’ some strange niggah my business.”
She rolls her eyes, wavin’ me on. “Whatever. It ain’t no secret you love it in da ass. Shit da whole bar knows it.”
She starts diggin’ in her bag, then pulls out her phone. “Wait, wait. I want you to see sumthin’.” She starts scrollin’ through her cell, then hands it to me. I’m goddamn sick to my stomach. It’s a picture of her down on her knees holdin’ Knutz’s big-veiny dick with both hands, flickin’ her tongue over the head. And it’s a big ol’ light-skinned dingaling with a plum-sized head.
“See, girl, I ain’t lyin’. See how big my baby’s dick is?”
I frown, shovin’ her cell back at her. “You coon-booga bitch, how the fuck you gonna show me some nasty shit like that?” I reach over and snatch her glass. “Bitch, no more drinks for you.”
She starts laughin’. ‘Oh, Cassie, loosen up.”
“You know what, ho. Poof! I’m iggin’ ya ass for the rest of the night.”
“Cass, you just don’t know how good Knutz makes my body feel. I love me some Knutz, girl.”
“Mmmph. Well, good for you. I’m glad you love Knutz.” I let out a disgusted grunt when I see him walkin’ through the door. “Ugh, speakin’ of his no-good ass, here comes that nutty niggah now.”
She swivels her stool toward the door, then turns back to me grinnin’. “My baby must wanna get a few dances in wit’ me before takin’ me home to get some of this coochie.”
Lisa, one of the weekend bartenders, comes over to serve me. And the dirty, tr
ick-ass ho knows I don’t like her. I can’t stand a phony bitch. And she’s one of ’em. And why this ho can’t take the tips she makes and take her triflin’ ass on down to Nappy No More so Pasha can hook up her raggedy-ass weave is beyond me. How the fuck you gonna have a blonde weave and ya edges and roots are all jacked up? Mmmph.
“What can I get you, Cass?”
I stare at her, then tap Dickalina on the arm. “Lina, tell this bitch she can’t get me shit.”
Lina taps the bar, then says, “Bitch, you can’t get her shit. Wait, why can’t she? I need me another drink.”
“Well, then let her fix you one. But that bitch ain’t fixin’ me shit.”
“Fuck you, Cass,” Lisa says, stompin’ off to serve someone down at the other end of the bar. Bitch, puhleeze. What I look like? Her ass might try to drug me or spit in my damn drink. No, thank you. I’m not givin’ that ho a chance to ever do me in. I’ll wait all night for Big Mike to serve me if need be. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait too long.
Knutz walks over to us, drapin’ his thick arm around Dickalina’s shoulder. He whispers somethin’ in her ear. “Ooh, Knutz, baby,” she coos. “You know I love it when you talk nasty to me. You make me wanna do some thangs to you.”
I roll my eyes up in my head.
He eyes me. “Yo, wassup, Cass?”
I look him up and down. He’s wearin’ afro puffs with the colored rubberbands in his head. And has the nerve to have on a black and white Enyce polo shirt with a pair of Sean John baggy jeans. And a pair of black canvas and leather high-top sneakers on his feet with the Velcro straps and FUBU written on the sides. Mmmph. I can’t. Not with this jailhouse critter.
“Knutz, go kill ya’self, niggah.” I get up from my seat, grabbin’ bag and drink. “Lina, I’m goin’ to the bathroom. Hopefully his ugly ass will be dead when I get back.”
I go into the bathroom, check out how fabulous I look in the mirror, then swing my hips out the door, pullin’ out my cell as it vibrates. I glance at the screen. It’s JT’s goddamn ass. No thank you, niggah, I think, pressin’ IGNORE, then droppin’ the phone back in my bag. Three seconds later, my phone vibrates and I know the niggah is leavin’ me a text. Crazy ass!
