Daddy Long Stroke

by Cairo

  So what if I took her whip and dipped off to get my dick piped out? The first time I did the shit and didn’t come back ’til two hours later, she shoulda made it her business to not give me her keys again. And that goes for the three other times. But she didn’t. And so what if I ran her wallet? She bought what she wanted to buy. I never pressed her for shit. She tried to buy my attention and she wanted to have this dick at whatever costs. No chick wit’ an ounce of common sense is gonna keep lettin’ a muhfucka keep takin’ from her. But she did, so it is what it is.

  I text back: Give me an hour. Then bring my attention back to Sherria. I can tell she’s strugglin’ to keep herself from blowin’ her top. And, on some real shit, I’m glad as hell that I got her ass outside in broad daylight wit’ neighbors ’n shit ’round to be witness to anything she might try ’n do. Don’t get shit twisted. I’m not scared of her, but I am scared of what the fuck I’ma do if she does try to set it off.

  Lahney texts: See u then. Oh, and bring da Magnums. I’m all out.

  This trick-ass, I think, placin’ my phone back in my pocket. I’m not fuckin’ wit’ her today.

  I look her dead in her eyes, then finally say, “Well, I’m not.”

  She looks hurt, shiftin’ from one foot to the other. “I hope you know you’re real fucked up.”

  I stand up. Brush the back of my sweats off. “Okay, so now that you know that, there’s no need to keep wastin’ my time or yours.” I reach into my pants pocket, pull out my keys, remove her house-key from ’round my key ring, then hand it to her. She stares at my hand before snatchin’ it from my hand. I frown. “Is there sumthin’ else?”

  She glares at me. Starts breathin’ heavy, fightin’ back what looks to be tears in her eyes. Or a rageful fit. “Yeah, motherfucker,” she snarls through clenched teeth, “You ain’t shit, you arrogant bastard!”

  Before I can catch myself, I snap, “Bitch, you snore, and you leave your muthafuckin’ raggedy-ass panties in the middle of the fuckin’ floor, but you tryna come at my neck. Fuck outta here.”

  “Fuck you! I hate your ass!”

  I shrug, walkin’ back inside the house. “You don’t hate me, baby. You hate yourself,” I say, shuttin’ the door behind me, leavin’ her standin’ there lookin’ wounded and lost.

  Two hours later, I get back from smashin’ Lahney out. Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t fuckin’ wit’ her today, but a hard-ass dick will change a muhfucka’s mind in a heartbeat. So I went over and served her up some dick, then dipped. Fuck all that layin’ ’round, cuddlin’ up shit wit’ her ass. She wasn’t hittin’ a nigga wit’ no paper, so there was definitely no need for any extended stays. Feel me? But, as I was leavin’, she caught me off guard when she slid me a key to her spot.

  “What’s this for?” I asked her as she handed them to me.

  “It’s for here. I want you to be able to come through anytime you want.”

  “Oh, word? Why?”

  “Because I’m hoping one day I walk through the door and you’ll be standing here in the middle of the living room butt naked, holding your hard dick in your hand waiting for me.”

  I grinned, unzippin’ my jeans and slippin’ my hand down in my underwear. “Is that so?”—I pull out my dick and stroke it—“Well, how ’bout we get started now.” Needless to say, she dropped down low and let it do what it do, milkin’ my dick wit’ her mouth, then finally gulpin’ down a rich, creamy nut.

  Anyway, I’m up in my room loungin’ in a pair of black boxer briefs and a black wife beater, gettin’ ready to watch Alphabet Killer when my cell rings. I think to ignore the shit, but decide to grab it off the nightstand and check to see who’s tryna get at me.

  “Oh, shit!” I snap, peepin’ the caller ID, “I ain’t heard from this cat in a minute.” It’s my boy, Red. Yo, this nigga right here’s been my muthafuckin’ dude since eighth grade, word up. Dude is one of the coolest cats I know. And the nigga bags almost as much pussy as me. That’s ’cause he’s one of them light, pretty-boy muhfuckas wit’ all that wavy hair them bitches be fallin’ over. And the nigga be pimpin’ the shit outta ’em. He got bitches takin’ numbers, and standin’ in line, to get at his dick. Well, he used to. I’m not sure how the nigga’s movin’ now that he’s all hugged up wit’ his shorty.

  Growin’ up we’d blaze trees, and I’d watch him get bent offa forties ’n shit while we puffed L’s. We’d call up a few hot-in-the-ass hoes and sneak ’em down into his basement, then fuck ’em all night. He’d be diggin’ one bitch’s back out on the plaid sofa, and I’d be on the other side of the room dickin’ down the other on the twin mattress he’d pull out and put down on the floor. Then we’d switch hoes and start rockin’ ’em all over again. Or we’d bang the same bitch after she sucked both our dicks. And the wild shit is, we’d go up in them hoes straight raw. Man, listen… we was like fourteen and was some wild, reckless, horny-ass muhfuckas back then. But, after we both got burned and crabbed out by this dirty bitch, LaTonya, we started strappin’ up. And bein’ more selective. That ho had the whole block on fire. Good pussy or not, that syphilis and crab scare was all we needed to fuck more responsibly, feel me? Fuck what ya heard. A drippin’, itchy-ass dick ain’t a good look!

  “Yo, what’s good wit’ ya punk ass?”

  “This dick in ya mom’s throat, nigga,” he says, laughin’. “What’s poppin’ wit’ you?”

  “My nut in ya aunt’s eye, muhfucka,” I joke back.

  “Yo,” he says, laughin’. “You stupid-as-hell nigga, word up. So, what’s good? How you?”

  “Chillin’, chillin’. You know how I do. What’s good wit’ you? You still kickin’ it wit’ that honey down in Maryland?”

  “Yeah, man. We still doin’ the damn thang. Ole girl done got a nigga hangin’ up his pimp shoes ’n shit.”

  “Get the fuck outta here. She got you on lock like that?”

  “Word is bond. I tossed out my booty-call book and the bat phone for this one.”

  I almost drop my cell. I can’t believe what the fuck I’m hearin’. Like me, this nigga has never been a one pussy-type of nigga. “Get the fuck outta here! Say word.”

  “On e’erything I love,” he tells me.

  “Awwww, damn,” I say, pausin’. I’m still tryna absorb what he’s said. “Nigga, you serious?”

  “You heard me. I had my other phone line disconnected, shut down my BlackPlanet and Myspace pages, and closed all my porn site accounts.”

  “Damn, dude. Sounds like she put that cock clamper down on ya.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I can’t front. My baby shut shit down, son. Gotta nigga thinkin’ ’bout the future ’n shit, something I never did before. Real talk, it’s a wrap, son. A nigga’s done fuckin’ wit’ all that pussy chasin’.”

  “Yo, son, you talkin’ ’bout givin’ up a smorgasbord of hot pussy at ya disposal. You sure you wanna walk away from it?”

  “Yo, most def. On some real shit, man. I’d be thrashin’ that ass and bustin’ shit down and after I finished nuttin’, I’d still want something more.”

  I laugh. “Like what, nigga, more pussy?”

  “Nah, my dude,” he says, pausin’. “Well, at first, yeah. I thought that’s what it was. But, once a muhfucka took a hard look at himself and got honest, I realized it wasn’t the pussy I wanted more of. It was more of someone; maybe not that particular someone. But definitely someone I could vibe with, and one day build with, feel me?”

  Keepin’ shit real, I couldn’t relate to shit he was sayin’. Not that I didn’t want to, I just wasn’t able to. Wantin’ sumthin’ other than pussy, head and a ho’s paper wasn’t ever anything I gave thought to. Nor has it ever been sumthin’ that consumed me. Fuckin’ a broad, yeah; buildin’ wit’ her ass, nope!

  I say, “I hear you. But, yo, man…I’m shocked as hell hearin’ this shit come from outta ya mouth, for real, yo.”

  He chuckles. “Man, listen…I’m shocked my damn self. On some real shit, I never thought I’d ever feel
this way ’bout a chick. But, Coletta’s different. She holds a nigga down. She’s loyal, and the best part is, I know she loves a nigga.”

  The way he talks, he sounds happy as hell. And on some real shit, I find myself smilin’—happy for my nigga, too. “That’s wassup,” I tell him. “I’m happy for you, man.”

  “’Preciate that, playa. Don’t worry, your turns comin’, dawg.”

  “Not if I can help it,” I tell ’im. “I like my freedom too much.”

  “Yeah, aiight, muhfucka. Talk that shit now. You just haven’t run up on the right one, yet.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, nigga. So what’s next?” I ask, changin’ the subject.

  “Actually, that’s the reason I was callin’ you. I’ma ask my girl to marry me on Christmas Eve. And I want you as my best man when we tie the knot.”

  My mouth drops open. “Say word, nigga!”

  “Word on e’erything I love.”

  “Damm,” I say. “You go ghost ’n shit for months, then pop up outta nowhere full of surprises.”

  He laughs. ”Whatever, muhfucka. You wit’ me on this or what?”

  “No doubt, dawg. I got you.”

  “That’s what it is. I knew I could count on you.”

  “No doubt. You know how we do.”

  “Mos def. Listen, I gotta dip. I’ma hit you up in a couple of weeks.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say jokin’ly. “Muhfucka, the last time you said that shit, I ain’t hear from ya pussy-whipped ass for almost six months.”

  “Don’t be jealous, baby,” he says, laughin’. “You know you still my number one nigga. But I rather be pussy whipped than havta be stuck fuckin’ with ya ugly, black ass.”

  “Fuck outta here wit’ that bullshit,” I say, crackin’ up. “Let me borrow ya grandmother for a few days, then let’s see how ugly and black she thinks this dick is.”

  “Yeah, muhfucka, right after you let me borrow yours.” We laugh and bullshit a few more minutes, then hang up. I lay back ’cross my bed, dazin’ up at the ceilin’ wonderin’ how the hell Red’s girl got him to give up all his hoes. I mean, she’s bad as hell… but, damn. She got that nigga talkin’ ’bout marriage ’n shit. She must got some good-ass pussy, I think, shakin’ my head, smilin’. Or her muthafuckin’ head game must be off the damn chain. I think about it a few more minutes, wonderin’ if a cat like me had it in him to be on some exclusive shit wit’ a chick. Nah, fuck that! Good pussy or not. A muhfucka like me ain’t goin’ out like that. I’ma always be long strokin’ more than one ho. I roll over onto my side, and before I know it, I’m knocked the fuck out.

  17

  Yo, I’m watchin’ this flick Cover, wit’ Vivica Fox and that cat Leon. For a straight-to-DVD joint it isn’t bad, but… man, listen. This muhfucka is on some real extra shit, fuckin’ another muhfucka and he’s married. What kinda bullshit is that? I don’t knock no one for doin’ what they do, and bein’ who they are, real talk. But a muhfucka suckin’ and fuckin’ another nigga—when you got a chick in ya life, is some straight bullshit, for real, yo. That shit is disrespectful, dangerous and grounds for a bullet straight to ya muthafuckin’ dome for frontin’ on her, and puttin’ her life at risk, feel me? Shit like this gets a muhfucka hot, for real, yo.

  Punk-ass nigga, I think, shakin’ my head. I can’t even finish watchin’ this shit. I light a blunt, and turn it off, then hit the remote to my stereo, and turn on my computer. Plies’ “Excuse My Hands” blares through the speakers as I wait for my PC to boot up. I click on Internet Explorer to surf the web, then hit up my BlackPlanet, Facebook and Myspace pages. When I’m done goin’ through all the bullshit notes, I decide to check the emails on my AOL account. As soon as I log on, the IM’s start poppin’ up. I shake my head. These some real hungry-ass hoes tonight, I think, iggin’ most of ’em. But the one who gets my attention tonight is the older chick from BlackPlanet. We’ve been emailin’ back and forth a few times, but this is the first time she actually IM’s me. I wanna fuck the shit outta her, word up.

  DrSweetPussy: Hello

  DaddyLongStroke: What’s poppin’, pretty baby?

  DrSweetPussy: *blushing*

  DaddyLongStroke: Come on, baby. Don’t get shy on a nigga

  DrSweetPussy: Not shy; just embarrassed

  DaddyLongStroke: Embarrassed? Why?

  DrSweetPussy: That I’m doing this

  DaddyLongStroke: Doin’ what?

  DrSweetPussy: This. Talking to you. Thinking about cheating on my husband

  DaddyLongstroke: Well, isn’t that what u’ve been lookin’ for? A little side action in ya life?

  DrSweetPussy: Yeah

  DaddyLongStroke: Well, don’t get scared now, baby. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.

  DrSweetPussy: LOL. I’m not scared; just confused

  I take two pulls from the blunt. Hold the shit in my lungs, then slowly blow it out. Confused? Give me a fuckin’ break! Obviously, the bitch ain’t gettin’ what she needs at home ’cause if she was, she wouldn’t be all up on BlackPlanet ’n shit prowlin’ for dick. And she damn sure wouldn’t be emailin’ and IM-in’ muhfuckas. Her ass ain’t gettin’ dicked right, and she wants a muhfucka wit’ a strong back and long dick to beat that shit up for her. And I’m just the man for the job. So what the fuck she confused about?

  DaddyLongStroke: What u confused about?

  DrSweetPussy: Maybe confused is the wrong word. More anxious than confused

  DaddyLongStroke: About?

  DrSweetPussy: Meeting u

  DaddyLongStroke: Meetin’ me should be the least of your worries, I think. Whether or not you can handle a Mandigo stud should be. What kinda dr are u?

  DrSweetPussy: A psychologist

  DaddyLongStroke: Aaah shit. An educated freak

  DrSweetPussy: LOL

  DaddyLongStroke: I’ve slayed a lotta professional chicks, but a psychologist is gonna be my first

  DrSweetPussy: *smiling* hopefully, it’ll be a good experience for the both of us

  DaddyLongStroke: I’m sure it will be. Tell daddy some of ya fantasies, baby

  DrSweetPussy: Umm, well, I fantasize about having sex in public, like on a beach with everyone watching. Other times I fantasize about speeding down the turnpike being completely naked and masturbating in my convertible.

  DaddyLongStroke: Damn, baby. Sounds hot! What else?

  DrSweetPussy: Being in the middle of a circle with a group of men jerking off while I’m playing in my vagina and watching them all stroke their penises over me. Then when they are ready to ejaculate, they cum all over me.

  Vagina? Penises? Ejaculate? What the fuck?!? I take two more pulls. Allow the weed smoke to fill my lungs. This bitch gonna haveta come better than this. A nigga like me ain’t beat for all that proper shit. She’s gonna haveta bring it wit’ lil’ more raunch and wit’ a lil’ more filth than this bullshit, if she wanna get this dick hard. I blow out smoke and continue typin’.

  DaddyLongStroke: Dig, what’s up wit’ all the proper talk? Loosen up, baby. Give it to me raw! Give it to me nasty, baby! Tell me how u wanna get that pussy rocked. How u wanna have a bunch of muhfuckas nut all over u. I need it uncut, ma, feel me?

  DrSweetPussy: lol, I think I do. I’m just not accustomed to talking like that

  DaddyLongStroke: Well, do u at least think it?

  DrSweetPussy: Sometimes

  DaddyLongStroke: Then let ya’self go. U can be free wit’ me, baby. Unleash the freak in u

  DrSweetPussy: Letting go is kinda new to me. I’ve been with the same man for over twenty years

  DaddyLongStroke: Sorry to hear that

  DrSweetPussy: lol, don’t be. It hasn’t been that bad

  DaddyLongStroke: Okay, if you say so. Yo, dig, baby. I ain’t beat for all this IM shit. U need to hit me up on the phone so we can talk. 973-555-0011. I wanna hear that sexy voice of yours.

  DrSweetpussy: And who should I ask for?

  DaddyLongStroke: Daddy Long Stroke. Thought u knew.
/>   I close out the IM screen before she can respond back and shut off my laptop, pickin’ up my cell and callin’ Akina. She answers on the fourth ring, soundin’ all outta breath ’n shit. “Hey, stranger.”

  “What’s poppin’, baby? Why you all outta breath?”

  “I was working out,” she says, soundin’ like she has an attitude.

  “Oh, word. For a minute I thought you was somewhere gettin’ ya fuck on.”

  She sucks her teeth. “Yeah, right. The only fucking going on is with these fingers ’cause you too busy avoiding a bitch for anything else to happen.”

  I laugh. “Oh, what, you upset?”

  “Nigga, puhleeze, you wish. I’m horny as hell, and want some dick.”

  I laugh. Although she’s always sayin’ she’s gettin’ it in wit’ other muhfuckas, if she is, I know they ain’t puttin’ in no real work. ’Cause if they were she wouldn’t be pressed ’bout me standin’ her ass up. But, no matter who else she’s fuckin’, Akina’s the type of dick-hungry chick that’ll keep my dick stuck up in her if I’d let her. “Oh, you want me to run this dick up in you?”

  “What you think, nigga? I haven’t seen you since you got back from Atlanta. Do you know how long ago that was?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a minute.”

  “Exaaactly. And then you straight played me last week when you had me up in here with a wet pussy waitin’ for ya black ass to come through to serve me. Then ya ass never returned my fuckin’ calls.”

  I hold back a laugh. “Yo, ma, on some real shit, I’m sorry ’bout that. The night I was ’posed to come through I ended up goin’ to the gym. And by the time I got home, a nigga was beat. I took a hot shower, smoked a blunt, then knocked the hell out.”

  “Mmm-hmm, if you say so.”

  “Why you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you don’t believe me or some shit.”

  “Humph. I know how you niggas do, especially your nasty ass.”

  Here this horny bitch goes. She’s tight ’cause a nigga ain’t banged her pussy up in a minute. And now her ass goin’ through wit’drawals ’n shit. “Yo, go ’head wit’ that dumb shit. You know my situation. A nigga’s been busy. Since I got back, shit’s been real hectic.”