The Hood Life

by Meesha Mink

  “Well, I guess I better get going,” the dude says, jumping to his feet and scrambling toward the door.

  I stop him cold. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I ask.

  He glances at Momma and then back at me while getting all flustered.

  “Uh, yeah.” He reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and peels off a couple of Benjamins. “My bad.”

  I just nod, but I make sure he reads in my expression that shit wasn’t cool.

  “I catch you later, Angel,” the man says and quickly races out the door.

  I turn my gaze toward Momma. “Angel?”

  “What? Don’t I look like an Angel to you?”

  I just laugh at that shit. Momma ain’t ever gonna change. And neither will I. “All right, Angel. You got my money?”

  2

  The Dealer

  “Mornin’, Daddy.”

  Lying in the middle of my silk-covered, king-sized bed, I look over to the left at Suga smiling up at me and then over to my right at her sister Spyce, giving me an identical smile. Twins.

  I smile like the cocky motherfucker I am because a nigga ain’t really lived until he had two big-tittie freak bitches willing to double-team his dick. Fuck Charlie, I got the real deal angels right here waiting to fuck and suck me right.

  Each one strokes their tongue across one of my nipples and my dick stands up like a fucking soldier making the silk sheet rise right on up. I press my hands to the back of their heads and even though we all just met last night, these bitches know to suck deeper on my nipples. My dick’s so hard it’s aching like a motherfucker. I ain’t gone lie, these chicks might make me nut up my damn sheets.

  I close my eyes and lick my lips while I fight like hell to hold off cumming. Either Suga or Spyce wraps their hand around that long, thick motherfucker to stroke it like they tryna draw milk. I hiss in pleasure and my hips arch up off the bed as they both giggle softly against my chest.

  I know I should’ve got them the hell out of my apartment as soon as I sprayed my nut into both of their mouths, but after the fucking these chicks put on me I couldn’t do shit but sleep. I open one eye and look over at the Ralph Lauren digital clock on the dresser as I reach down their smooth brown bodies to palm two of the softest breasts I ever fucked with. Ten a.m. Shit.

  From the second I laid eyes on them in Visions nightclub and they both gave me the eye back I knew I had to have them. I’m an ass and tittie man all the way and these bangin’-ass bitches had both with none of that extra stomach and stretch-mark bullshit.

  They both moan as I use my fingertips to tease their nipples. I have to get some of their pussies before I roll out for the day. Fuck it.

  “Suck my dick.” I didn’t direct that shit to one or the other. It really didn’t matter as long as I felt my tip wet soon.

  They both shift from my arms to get on their knees on the bed and lick from the base to the thick tip. They alternate one to the other, wrapping their thick lips around my dick to suck deeply.

  One and then the other. Back and forth. Each suck deeper and deeper until they are deep-throating me. I can feel their tonsils on my shit. Damn!

  “That dick good, ain’t it?” I ask them thickly, my eyes half closed as I look at them do their work.

  “Uhm-humm,” they moan in unison.

  I cross my feet, put my hands behind my head, and just kick back enjoying my life as these chicks handle a dick the way it should forever and always be handled.

  Soft hands spread my legs wide and soon one set of cool lips suck my balls into her mouth while her twin easily handles all ten of my curved inches. I shiver like a straight-up bitch, but fuck it. This shit feels good as a motherfucker and their moans is turning me the fuck on even more. My toes curl and my stomach gets tight as hell as I feel my dick get harder in one of their mouths.

  “Hey, Suga, this dick gone cum,” Spyce whispers against my tip. “Want some?”

  “Damn right.”

  My doorbell sounds off just as I bite my bottom lip to keep from hollering out as my dick pumps like a fucking gun filling their mouths with my cum. My heart is beating and sweat is covering my body as tongues and lips suck and lick up every bit of my nut.

  The doorbell sounds again as I lay stretched out in the bed trying to breathe so that my motherfuckin’ ass didn’t stroke out or some shit. As good as they took care of that dick, I know who is at the door. It’s time for business.

  With one last slap to their identical plush-ass cheeks, I sit up. “Ladies, this is good. Shit, damn good, but I got work to do.”

  “We feel you, Kaseem.”

  “Go make that money, honey.”

  Seconds later I’m missing the soft feel of their bodies sandwiching my body. I roll out of bed and hop to my feet as they begin to dress in the same skintight Baby Phat jean outfits that drew my ass to them last night.

  I slip on one of my thick-ass Hilfiger terrycloth robes and stick my feet into matching plaid slippers. “Stay here,” I tell them, before leaving my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

  My three-bedroom apartment is laid the fuck out like I hired some Martha Stewart type of bitch to decorate my shit. But I picked it all out myself. The chocolate leather furniture, the African wood carvings on the wall, the black top of the line appliances. All of it was all me. It’s what I’m used to so there’s no way I could settle for anything less. And since money is never an issue, whatever I want I get.

  I cross the polished hardwood floors to open the front door. My best friend and right hand-man, Usher, strolls in wearing an oversized thick-ass T-shirt. I know he hot as a motherfucker in this summer heat but fuck it, we do what we do.

  As he pulls the shirt over his bald head, I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of apple juice to take a deep swig from. By the time I finish my drink he has unstrapped two money belts from around his solid waist and dropped them onto the smoky glass dining-room table.

  One hundred thousand dollars.

  I reach across the table and without a word spoken my nigga gives me some dap and one of his fucked-up, crooked-tooth grins. Usher look like a bulldog from his face to the thick and solid build of body. Fuck it, what this motherfucker lacked in looks he made up for in loyalty. We been friends for the longest and he hasn’t ever let me down.

  I shrug and pick up the belts to hold in one of my strong hands. I love money. Always have. Always will. Even this chump change got a nigga like me happy as a motherfucker. And the hustle—my hustle—makes sure the pockets stay fat.

  Hustling is all I know how to do. Shit, I ain’t the only one. Whether you in corporate America, busting your ass on a blue-collar nine to five, or going for yours in the hood, everybody got a hustle. Mine is dope. Right, wrong, or indifferent, it is what it is, and I make it do what it do. I don’t gangbang. I never killed a motherfucker. I hardly ever been in a fight. I ain’t angry and dangerous and all that “stereotypical shit.” I sling dope. Period.

  And this dope game has been good to me.

  Good money. Good friends. Good life.

  The Hood Life. Fuck it.

  Anything I want is at the tip of my fingers, a phone call away, a shout of my voice, or the snap of my fingers. And I live my life to the fullest. The flyest gear. The dopest bitches. The baddest rides.

  I love my boy Maleek like a brother, but I have to admit when the feds shut down his multistate operation last year, I slipped right on in and upped my game from weed (which still did me damn good all these years) to pushing that hard weight. Hell, somebody had to meet the demands with the best supply and with Maleek’s help I have the best fucking connections in place to run these streets. In return, I set aside a nice stash of money for him (that no one including his wife, Aisha, knew about) and I got word to him straight the fuck up, that his precious wife, Miss High and Mighty, was selling that sweet-ass pussy all over Atlanta while he was locked up.

  Truth?

  I can’t even front that I was mad that she rather sell it than give
it to me. Oh, I wanted that pussy bad as a motherfucker. Wife of my friend or not, if Aisha had let me just lick that, then Maleek’s ass would just have to share on the low. Hell, it wasn’t like Maleek didn’t fuck around on her.

  Fuck it, I still want to punish that pussy. Make her feel what the fuck she was missing. The street patrol said she was still runnin’ the pussy game but who knew if that was true or not. She slipped off the radar like a motherfucker but—

  “Hey, Kas.”

  What the fuck?

  I glance over at Usher as my front door slams closed and my girl Quilla walks in with the key I gave her swinging from her hands.

  “Damn,” I swear as I get over to her quick as a motherfucker. Any other Sunday her ass in church all morning. Nothing but that radar of hers told her I was somewhere near some pussy other than hers.

  “Whaddup, baby girl,” I say, even as I see Usher grab the money belts from the table. I check her out real quick before I grab her by the waist and turn her to steer her sexy black ass back to the front door.

  Oh, Quilla finer than a motherfucker with her dark complexion and long curly weave down her back, but right now she’s more inconvenient than anything. Fuck the smooth laid-back demeanor, this bitch flips with a quickness when she catch me trickin’. Quilla will forget her designer outfit—which I know cost three grand, since I bought it—and try and tear up my damn apartment. She got a scanner on this dick and the last thing I need is for her to catch the Fuck You Good twins up in here.

  That’s why I usually never bring bitches back to my apartment. Never. I don’t know why I fucked with that shit last night.

  “You skipped church?” I ask as I feel her resisting my hand on her elbow.

  “I’m on my way. Why? You got a problem with me stopping by?” she asks, her neck already going in a different damn direction from her head.

  “Me and Usher got some business to handle and you know I don’t have you in my shit like that.”

  She looks over her shoulder and pierces Usher with one of her hazel cat-shaped eyes. “Yeah, what the fuck ever, Kas.”

  I open the front door and keep guiding her ass right on out. “Quilla, this ain’t that time for that dumb shit. I ain’t gone let nobody fuck with my money and you know that,” I tell her, trying to go hard and shit. “Whatever I lose from you playing the pussy detective I will take from all that shit you ask me for. So what you wanna do?”

  She smiles and her dimples that I love come right on out as she gets up on the tip of her Gucci heels and gives me a deep kiss. “I’ll be back after church,” she whispers against my lips before she turns and walks out the door with one last stare at me. “Don’t play with me.”

  I’m just glad my shit don’t taste like the twins’ pussy. And the thought of the twins makes me decide to get rid of Usher too. Hell, he done made the drop. I can chill with his ass later.

  “Yo, Ush, I’m going back to bed. I’ll get up with you later.” I even throw in a stretch.

  Usher just shakes his head. “Man, you can shit Quilla but don’t even try that bullshit with me.”

  I laugh because he’s right. Feeling cocky as a motherfucker, I tie my robe a little tighter and strut my ass to my bedroom to open it wide. Suga and Spyce are dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed waiting to be told what to do.

  I look over my shoulder as Usher walks up to me and slaps me on the back. “You a bad motherfucker.”

  I don’t say nothing else because there isn’t shit else to be said. Not even good-bye. Usher know what the fuck is up.

  Before the front door even closes behind him, I drop my robe. They’re already here and the coast is clear for a second. Might as well enjoy it. Fuck it.

  Suga drops right to her knees and makes my dick hard as hell in her mouth as Spyce spreads my ass and licks a trail around the hole.

  Stretching my arms wide I let my head drop back and enjoy myself. Damn, life is good as hell.

  3

  The Playa

  Life is so fuckin’ good…especially for a fine motherfucker like me. Just twenty-eight, high yellow, gray eyes, good hair, toned body, and a big dick—oh, I’m the shit and I know it. I’ve always known it and there ain’t shit in this world I want that I can’t get, especially if what I want belongs to a woman. Money. Clothes. Jewelry. Three hots and a cot. And for sure, pussy. Pussy. And more pussy.

  Ain’t too many men that can twist a woman’s legs like a pretzel and then lay that pipe so good that she forget how I had her hemmed up.

  When I say jump my bitches ask how high.

  When I say suck this dick they ask how deep.

  When I say give me money their only question better be how much.

  I roll out of the bed and reach for my creased brown Dickies pants from the floor. A nigga was ready to go for real.

  “Where you going, Rhak?”

  I blow out some air as I pull on my shit before I turn to look down at her. Not that looking in her face or calling the bitch by her name mean a damn thing. To me all these tricks and chicks is one and the same. No matter how much they suck and fuck me ain’t none of these tricks mean more to me than the other. Not even my girl, Shaterica.

  “I’m headin’ back to the crib, baby,” I tell her in my smoothest voice. (I call them all baby to keep from saying the wrong name at the wrong damn time. Don’t hate the playa….)

  Taira flips the covers back and shows me her brick-house body covered by the tightest, smoothest, and darkest skin ever. Humph. Her pussy is just as tight.

  She thinks we have a future. The bitch is straight crazy. Taira ain’t the settle-down-with kinda chick. She can’t cook. Her apartment shady as hell when it comes to bein’ clean and she got more kids than the projects got roaches, but her sugar walls can grip my dick tighter than a motherfucker that’s pissed the hell off. Humph. I ain’t forgot ’bout that whole hooker-to-housewife shit. But…if it took a few soft words and a few more hard strokes to get that pussy when I want it and how I want it then fuck it, Taira can think whatever the hell she want.

  “I gotta go but I’ll get up with you tomorrow,” I tell her with “the look”—deep stare, hard jaw, head tilted slightly to the side with a wink followed by half a smile. It gets these bitches every time.

  Like clockwork “the look” turns her frown up the fuck side down. (I will be eternally grateful to my uncle LeRon for teaching me that and some more shit that keeps this true playa for real in true pussy forever.)

  I stroll my ass right out her junky bedroom and ignore the hell out her snot-nose kids sittin’ in the livin’ room as I walk out the house forgettin’ her with as much ease as I please. I done got what I want from her ass. My dick done got good and wet and my pockets are a little fatter. I finger the crisp hundred dollar bill she gave me. She thinks of it as a loan and I know it’s payment for services rendered. Translation: she might as well kiss this bill good-bye. Besides, my girl been naggin’ me to pay half on the car note so now I can get her the fuck off my back.

  I’m singin’ along with the radio as I drive up Piedmont in my black Honda Accord—well, it’s Shaterica’s, but fuck it, what’s hers is mine. All she ever does is hand me the keys with a smile and I’m up out of Bentley Manor quick as shit. I drive it, fuck in it, pull new bitches in it, and do what the hell I please in it. Just last week I drove over to this little white chick I fuck with over in Buckhead. I slipped and spent the night with that bitch and my girl was mad as hell and straight mean-muggin’ me when I dragged my ass through the door the next mornin’. I shot her a lie about getting’ effed up and fallin’ asleep on one of my homeboys’ couch—picture that shit really happenin’. Shit, I ain’t one of them cruddy down-low brothers. My name is Rhakmon, not Junior.

  Not that I don’t care about my lady. She real good to me and I know it. Even though she say I don’t recognize all the shit she does for me, that’s her job. She knew that when she filled out the application and whenever her ass feel like she can’t handle what the fuck it tak
es to be my girl then I’ll fire her. She know what’s up.

  I check the clock on the dash. It’s 10:18.

  Shaterica works as a nursing assistant at some old folks’ home from eleven at night ’til eleven in the mornin’. She needed her car to get to work and one thing I don’t fuck with is holdin’ a bitch up from carryin’ her ass to work. I need her money and my free time to do me. For real.

  I steer the car with one hand and try my best to reach in the glove compartment for one of my blunts. Readymade and rolled to please.

  If there is two things God created for this playa’s pleasure then it’s pussy and weed. Mix a good fuckin’ smoke with some smokin’ good pussy and…hot damn!

  I sink deeper into the driver’s seat just as I stick the blunt in my mouth and light it. That nut I bust and this blunt is gonna lay my ass out for the night. This one time Shaterica’s jealous ass won’t have to hunt me the fuck up. A nigga’s bed was callin’.

  I turned at the next corner with a little Snoop playin’ from the CD player. Perfect music to ride and get high. I rode down a damn near deserted block that I know all too well—less police traffic. I felt like gettin’ effed up not frisked.

  As I pull to a red light I tilt my head up to blow a stream of smoke up through the open sunroof. I look around me and I smile all cocky and shit at the sight of the small brick house on the corner. I used to fuck this bitch who rented that shitty little motherfucker. Big Butt Belinda.

  I’m laughing at the memory of her suckin’ the hell out of my dick while I used a stack of dollar bills to make it rain on that ho.

  My smile fades as the front door opens and I look into the face of this mark-ass nigga named Onthario. A bitch-ass name for a bitch-ass fool.

  I don’t give a fuck about this clown and I know he could care less about me. Shit, we ain’t got no choice but to hate each other….