by AP Jermaine
“Stop it nigga. I don’t know what she’s got, because I didn’t fuck her.”
“What!!! What kinda shit you on Banks? I know you nigga; you didn’t rescue that bitch for nothing.”
“I ain’t pressed for no pussy nigga. She’s paying me back as sort of a live-in maid. Cleaning, washing clothes, shit like that.”
“Fuck that! You can’t never have enough pussy, and if that broad was living up in my spot, she’d be fucking and sucking like Pinky! I’m talkin bout some on demand type shit!”
“Yeah whatever nigga. You know me, and you know I’m a motherfuckin P.I.M.P, so don’t question my moves homeboy. I get more pussy by mistake than you “buy” on purpose. Remember that playa. What’s so damn important anyway?”
“Oh yeah bru; we need to go to the liquor house in North Durham, on the fourth of next month.”
“What for? Nigga you know I don’t be fuckin wit no rat ass liquor houses. It’s too easy to have to kill a motherfucker, or get killed. And why the fourth of next month? That’s almost three weeks away.”
“Come on bru, loosen up. Your ass done got real tight lately. I met this chick at the car wash. She bad as fuck. She said she got a man and he be on her like a hawk, but she gonna be at the liquor house in North Durham on the fourth because it’s her uncles birthday. I know she trying to fuck because she said she’d be wit her homegirl, and that if I didn’t have nobody for her, then won’t nothing jumping.”
“Yeah, you a real Tony Romeo aint ya nigga? Going off the deep end behind some broad that hang out in liquor houses.”
“Look, whatever man. Just like you said don’t question your moves, don’t question mine.”
“Hold on for a second nigga.” I put him on hold as I reached over and accepted the perfectly rolled blunt that Latifah was holding out to me. She already had it lit. Damn I’d taught her well. Taking two deep pulls, I let the sweet taste of the Kush caress my lungs, before slowly exhaling the smoke.
“Banks!… Banks!… I heard Shell yelling as I put the phone back to my ear.
“Yeah nigga I’m here.”
“Damn nigga, what you doing? Fucking?”
“Nah, I was trying to take time out for a small chronic break. Yo, why you can’t get Hood or Luke or one of them niggas to go wit you?”
“Hell no bru! This chic is top of the line, so I’m sure her homegirl is too. And she aint gonna go for neither one of them niggas. So, what’s good bru? You gone do me this solid?”
“Yeah nigga I guess so. Hit me back later though, or either I’ll catch up wit you later in the projects. This weed making me horny so I’m about to fuck.” I looked over at Latifah and she was grinning from ear to ear.
“Aight nigga. Bust a nut for me.” Shell laughed then hung up.
Before I could lay my phone down good, Latifah was all over me! She was tall for a woman; being that she was almost six feet. Her skin was pecan tan and her legs seemed to go on forever. She was a little on the slim side, but thick in all the right places. She always kept her head done up in micro braids, but had some the softest, curliest pussy hair I’d ever seen. She’d mentioned to me that her mother was Cherokee Indian. Although she didn’t drink or do drugs, some good dick was her ultimate addiction. And I was her dope dealer! She was on her knees unbuckling my pants, quicker than you can say “Head Hunter!” Now, I don’t know who taught Latifah how to suck dick, but I wish I could meet the nigga so I could shake his motherfuckin hand! Latifah worshiped the dick when she sucked it. She kissed, licked, massaged, sucked, and stroked a nigga to a powerful nutt! When she drank down my cum, she’d be moaning louder than I would! And she loved to drink it too. If a drop was to accidently get away and spill on my leg, she’d lick that up too. My square bitch. With most chics, you might lay back and get a lil head, then before you feel yourself cumming, you go ahead and fuck em. Niggas call that “half and half.” Shit, Latifah won’t trying to hear none of that. When she got this dick in her mouth, that shit wouldn’t be over until she swallowed a hot load! She’d drain a nigga! Today was no different. While I was on the phone talking to Shell, Latifah had tiptoed over and slid in a porn DVD. Laying back and relaxing, I watched as Wesley Pipes beat out Cherokees ass like she had a second pussy, while simultaneously looking down at Latifah sucking ferociously at my dick. To put it frankly, she was a master knob slobber, so in only a matter of minutes, no matter how hard I tried to prolong it, I was throwing my head back howling at the ceiling as she milked me like a pro!
“Whew! Damn girl! You trying to make a nigga pass the fuck out!” I struggled to regain my composure as Latifah kicked out of her boy shorts and pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing those beautifully perked up titties with the quarter sized nipples, and that oh so soft pussy hair that I loved so much. Like a sex starved tigress, she pushed me back down on the couch and attempted to jump straight up on the dick; before I stopped her, retrieved a Magnum condom from my back pocket and let her roll it down over my wood.
“Can I have some now baby?” Latifah knew all my hot spots, licking my neck and kissing my chest as she asked.
“Yeah, turn around.” I ordered her as I prepared to fuck her reverse cowgirl, just like Wesley was doing Cherokee up on the screen. Without a word, Latifah spun around, climbed backwards onto my lap, and slid her sweet wet pussy down on my pole with a loud moan.
“Aaaaaagh!” Latifah is what I call a “triple threat.” Smoking head, fire pussy, and A-1 motherfuckin credit. A “triple threat”.” If you ever get lucky and run across one, be sure to keep her on the team. They’re priceless! She bounced up and down on my dick like a fuckin Pogo stick, while screaming her damn head off! Latifah was the ultimate screamer. Now, I knew I had a big dick, but the way she was screaming was gonna make somebody call the fuckin police! Yet and still, the shit always turned me on. The screaming and whimpering, accompanied with the sound of her gushy wet pussy splashing up and down on my dick, was about to make me blow again! I wasn’t quite ready yet though, and I wanted to make sure she got her nutt before I got mine. Reaching around, I clasped my hand over her mouth as a signal for her to stop screaming, before gripping her small waist and sliding her up off the dick, then ordering her to turn around and get up on her knees. I didn’t have to tell her twice. In the blink of an eye she was up on her knees looking out the window, with her pretty ass and long legs hanging off the edge of the couch. Her pussy was leaking juice like her vagina had just stopped raining! Beating her pussy up from the back gave me total control. That way I could prolong my nutt if I had to. But I had to make sure that she came first. It’s my job. Stepping up behind her I reached underneath and squeezed her stiff nipple with my left hand, while fingering her swollen clit with my right. She shook and shivered as she glanced over her shoulder at me. “Ooooh shiiiit daddddyyy! You gone make ME CUMMMMMM!!!
“I know,” I answered confidently gripping her hips tighter, plunging deep into her stomach, filling her to capacity as I pounded without mercy!
“Oh… shiiit baby I’M CUMMINNG!!!” Latifah screamed and bucked like a wild mustang! I was forced to hold onto her tightly, as she damn near fell off the couch, her body rippling with orgasmic convulsions! She came hard! Now I could get me. I decided as I continued to put in work, beating her pussy up harder and faster as I felt my nutt come rumbling to the surface! “Oh, fuck Teddy!” Latifah screamed as my knees buckled and I emptied ropes of hot jizz into the Mangum, while sweat dripped from my face onto Latifah’s naked ass. Finally, I pulled out, peeled off the condom and fell over on the couch beside her. Aint nothing like a morning fuck to get a nigga day going. I let Latifah lay her head on my chest for a while, but cut the shit short because I needed to get on my grind. I’d been hustling hard as a motherfucker so I’d taken a couple days’ rest. But now, my thirst for the trap needed quenching. So, I needed to get to the crib, get my other phone and get ready for another TrapNight.
Chapter 21 “Ride or Die Chicks”
When I finally made it back to
the crib, I’d almost forgotten that Monique was there. I walked into the den and saw her sitting on the sofa, with my Smith & Wesson nine-millimeter in her hand! My immediate thought was “Fuck! I’ve been a goddamn fool!” But upon further inspection, I saw that she was doing something to the gun. She looked surprised and a little embarrassed when I walked over and stood in front of her.
“Yo, what the hell you think you doing wit my gun?”
“Well, you left this in the laundry room on top of the dryer, and I saw it needed cleaning so I cleaned and oiled it for you.”
Damn! Did she just say she cleaned and oiled my pistol? I always left at least one ratchet somewhere unexpected that I could get to it quick. I called it “easy access.” With the neighborhood I lived in, I doubted very seriously that the police or narc squad would come kicking my door in, although you can never be 100% sure. I never kept drugs here anyway. But who I wasn’t sleeping on though, was all the slick, snake ass niggas in Durham. I don’t give a fuck who you are, or who you think you are, if you getting paper and niggas know it, there’s always some slick nigga out there that will lay and try to jux your ass. There are “NO” exceptions to the rule. Even if the nigga knows there’s a strong chance he could get killed in the process of trying, that’s just a chance that thirsty niggas will take to get on. Robbery is the first cousin to trapping. I walked around and sat down beside Monique as she smiled nervously and handed me my gun, handle first. She still looked banged the fuck up, but she was coming out of that “after Ike beat Tina” mode, and that was a good thing. My ratchet was clean as a whistle. Sliding the chamber back barely took any pull at all, so I knew whatever she’d done was much needed. She wrapped up her gun cleaning kit and was starting to get up when I stopped her. “Yo where you get that at?” I asked pointing at the kit.
“From Wal-Mart.”
“When did you go to Wal-Mart?”
“This morning.”
“Oh yeah, how’d you get there?”
“The city bus.”
“You always ride the city bus?”
“I haven’t in a long time, but I had before.”
“Uh huh. Where you learn to clean a pistol?”
“Big Joe.”
“Oh yeah. What else you know how to do?”
“Whatever. I’m a fast learner.”
“Ha, Ha. Good answer smart ass,” I told her as I got up and walked to my room. Damn! The shit was so clean it scared me! Every nigga likes at least a lil bit of disarray in his life. As crazy as it sounds, it helps us find shit better. I had at least thirty pairs of sneakers, Timberlands, and casual footwear. They were all color coordinated and lined up neatly in my closet. I went to the dresser and the same was true for my clothes. My bed was even made up with fresh sheets and a clean comforter. I walked around the crib and everything was spotless. She’d even scrubbed the tub and toilet. I walked in the kitchen just as Monique was putting away the last of the dishes. I was starting to feel like a slave driver. “Ay yo Monique, check this out.”
“Yeah what’s up Banks? You need me to do something?” She turned and looked at me as she dried her hands, and I almost forgot what I was about to say! The boy shorts and wife beater she had on, caused me to lose focus for a brief second. Damn! I quickly shook that shit off, although the sly grin she wore, told me she knew I was looking.
“You know what? I guess since you gonna be kinda like my lil sister around here, you shouldn’t have to ride the city bus,” I said as I tossed her the keys to my trap ride.
“What’s this?” She looked at me confused.
“That’s the keys to the whip we were in earlier. When I’m not using it, you can drive it.”
“For real! Oh, Thank you Banks!” Monique jumped up and hugged my neck, damn near squeezing the life outta me!
“Alright! Alright! Don’t thank me by choking me to death! It’s just till you can get back on your feet. You got your licsense right?” She hesitated and I already knew the answer before she said it.
“No.” She sounded like she was ashamed.
“Cool. Me neither. But now you gave me a reason to stop bullshittin and go get em. We both going. Okay?”
“O.k.” She answered lighting up like a kid on Christmas.
“Cool. I’ll holla at you later. I gotta go handle some shit.”
“You want me to cook something?”
“Nah, not tonight. I’m going out and might not be back til tomorrow.
“O.k. Be careful.”
“I will grandma.” I laughed as I grabbed my phone off the table and headed for the door.
“Oh yeah Banks, one more thing.” Monique stopped me at the door.
“Yeah, what’s up now?”
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, I’m three months older than you, so how am I lil sis?”
“Wisdom baby girl. Wisdom.” Monique laughed, shook her head and went back in the house.
Chapter 22 “Sob Story”
As soon as I stepped into mom dukes crib, Bitch came bolting down the hall like a bat outta hell; jumping all over my legs, and smacking me with her tail like she was crazy! I’d bought her a big ass doghouse and put it in the backyard, but mama already nearly had her housetrained, and let her stay in the house whenever she was home. Mama was in her room on the computer, probably playing that video poker that she loved so much, so I didn’t see any reason to bother her. I strolled through the kitchen and out the back door with Bitch trotting right beside me. Right at the edge of the backyard was a hollowed-out tree trunk. I walked past mama’s small garden, picked up a hoe, walked five feet to the right of the tree trunk and dug down in the ground about three feet deep. Reaching down into the hole I’d dug, I pulled out a burlap potato sack. Inside the sack, was large a black trash bag. Inside the trash bag, was a dirty gray pillow case. And inside that, was a digital scale, a brick and a half of cocaine, and about sixty - five thousand in cash. The whole kilo was powder, but the half was already cooked up. I couldn’t honestly tell you if mom dukes knew about my stash spot or not. Probably so, knowing my mom dukes. But these days a lot of things between me and her were just left unsaid. Several times I had to smack Bitch on her ass for being nosey, trying to stick her face into the bag. Pulling out the scale, I weighed out four ounces of hard and two ounces of soft, before putting the rest of the shit back up and burying it back where it was. In record time, I was in and out, and on my way to make some paper. Shell had hit me, about thirty minutes prior. Telling me he was in East Durham, at a nigga named “Frank Money’s” crib on Driver Street. Durham is a city of drugs, sex, and murder. No matter what you selling, you can go just about anywhere and get the shit off. If your quality and quantity is better than the next niggas, then you’re gonna eat better than the next nigga. A simple rule to the game. It’s not rocket science. East Durham is famous for two things; crack, and prostitutes. Most of the prostitute’s smoke crack. Some may do dope, but most love that hard white. So of course, wherever the prostitutes are, the coke and crack money is gonna stay flowing. Just like they say, selling pussy is the world’s oldest profession. When there’s a drought on everything else, the pussy is still plentiful! Plain and simple, motherfuckers are gonna trick. Crack has put a many of pimps outta business! Bitches sucking dick for five dollars, letting two and three niggas fuck em in any hole for a ten - dollar rock. I’m telling you the shit is a pimp’s worst nightmare. I had another hoop ride I kept at mom dukes house all the time. An 89 Honda Accord. It was plain Jane and all the paperwork was in Latifah’s name. It was just what I needed to traffic work, so I left my BMW at mom dukes and headed to the East…
As soon as I stepped into Frank Money’s crib, there was two niggas already waiting to cop some work. A few crack whores sat anxiously waiting, ready to buy something from whoever was gonna look out.
“What’s up my nigga? Shell told me you was on the way through. These cats trying to spend some paper,” Frank grinned happily as he gave me some dap. Me and Shell knew Frank from all the way back to
Holton Middle School. He was also the first nigga our age at Hillside High to push his own whip to school. Booming system and all! Frank’s big brother Junio was doing it big in the coke game back then, and had put his younger brother Frank on at just fourteen years of age. All of us wanted to be Frank back then. He was our idol. He had the whip, the jewelry, the clothes and all the chics was throwing their young high school pussies at him. His main girl was bad ass senior named Sonya. At nineteen she was three years older than Frank, but that shit didn’t matter. He was “Frank Money”! He had it like that. That was almost five years ago, and in that time, Frank’s older brother Junio had caught 37 years fed time, “Frank Money” was now “Frank the crack smoker,” and Sonya was walking the hoe stroll with her two front teeth missing, looking for a dick to suck for a piece of crack. Frank was still good peoples though and I always looked out for him. Some of the same people he used to supply with work before he started smoking, he turned me on to. Even though he’d fallen from grace like so many others, I still treated him like a friend. Laying my bag down, I pulled out the scale I’d brought along, took out the work and my pistol at the same time, just to let these dudes know wont shit sweet.
“What’s good bru? What you trying to cop?” I asked the first dude, who was tall and skinny with a Yankee fitted pulled low over his dreads.
“What’s up my nigga? Frank said you had some fire wit some good prices.”
“What’s yo name bru?”
“Freeze.”
“Aight Freeze, that may be true. What you needing?” I asked getting right back to the point. I didn’t know these niggas, so I wasn’t taking no chances. Not to mention that I hadn’t seen Shell anywhere yet.
“How much you want for an ounce?”
“How much you been paying?”
“Nine hundred.”
“I’ll give it to you for eight then, and if you keep it coming I’ll drop it down to seven fifty.”
