Daddy Long Stroke (5 page)

“Aye, yo, what the fuck? Why the hell you spazzin' 'n shit?

“Nigga, I'm spazzin' 'cause you had my goddamn, motherfucking car out all fucking night. And didn't even have the motherfucking decency to call me or answer your goddamn phone.”

I sigh. “You know I was gonna bring ya shit back to you, so why the fuck you actin' like I was tryna house you for it?”

“Motherfucker, you was
supposed
to bring me my shit back yesterday
afternoon, not the next MOTHERFUCKING morning! And why didn't you answer your goddamn phone?”

I frown. “Aye, yo, don't fuckin' question me. I didn't answer it, 'cause I didn't fuckin' want to—”

“Nigga, I know you not tryna get cocky. I'll question you all the fuck I want when you out with
my
goddamn car, all
fucking
night. Bitch-ass nigga, you done bumped your motherfucking head, talking that ‘don't question me' bullshit. You got the wrong one.”

And this is exactly why I ain't beat for bein' in no relationship, especially wit' no loud, mouthy-ass bitch. I sigh, takin' a long, deep pull from my blunt, then blowin' it out. This ugly bitch actin' like I put a gun to her skull, then strong-armed her for her keys. No. What a nigga did was slam this dick up in her guts, stick a finger in her asshole and suck all over them big-ass titties of hers. And when I was done, she practically tossed them muthafuckas at me.

“…And I know you didn't have no other bitch in my mother-fucking shit, either. I knew I shoulda never fucked with your sorry, black ass. You ain't shit, nigga. For real! I want my fucking car, NOW! And you better bring my shit back to me with a full tank of gas.”

“Or what?”

“Nigga, you'll see.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, takin' another big-ass pull to the head. Who the fuck this bitch think she is tellin' me what the fuck I
better
do? Now, you already know she done fucked up, right? I pull the phone away from my ear, allow her to continue her bullshit-ass tirade. She's talkin' so fast that she starts to sound like one of the muthafuckin' chipmunks. But, on some real shit, I…DON'T… GIVE. A. FUCK. I press End, then flip my phone shut. She calls back. I let it go into voicemail. And now, the bitch is gettin' real belligerent wit' it, callin' back to back to back. I turn the shit off.

When I finally get to exit 136 off the Garden State Parkway, I open my cell, turn the shit back on, then hit Akina up. She's this half-Japanese, half-black hottie I've been fuckin' for a minute. And the chick's sittin' on paper from money her grandparents left her when they died. Plus, her moms is a big-time criminal lawyer and her pops is a doctor, so chick wants for nuthin', feel me? Man, listen…this bitch is fiyah, fo' sho. And the best thing is she's a certified ass-lickin', ball-suckin', cum-gulpin' freak wit' one of them basketball booties you can palm and smack 'round all night. She's flat-chested as hell, but the ho gotta deep, wet pussy that slurps up the dick and gushes like a waterfall.

“Heeey, baby,” she coos into the phone.

“What's good, ma?”

“You, and all that pretty dick. When am I gonna see you? We miss you, boo.”

“Oh, word? And who's we?”

“Me and this wet pussy.” She giggles. “Where you been? I called you three times yesterday.”

I take another toke from my blunt. “I had a family emergency. Why, you need some dick?”

“And you already know,” she says, soundin' all sexy 'n shit. “Is everything okay with your family?”

I sigh into the phone, frontin' like a nigga's all down and whatnot. “Yeah, I hope so. But, I don't really wanna talk about it, right now.”

“Baby, I understand. Just know I'm here for you if you need me.”

“Thanks, I 'preciate that. Listen, I do need you to do me a favor, though.”

“Just tell me what it is, you know I got you.”

I grin, makin' a left onto Raritan Avenue. “I need you to pick me up in Linden, then drop me off home.”

“Just tell me when and where, and I'm there.” I tell her where
to pick me up, and what time to be there, then hang up. Fifteen minutes later, I finish smokin' the rest of my blunt, turnin' up into Tamera's apartment complex. I make sure I don't leave anything in her shit before puttin' her keys in the glove compartment. I get out, lockin' the fuckin' doors.
That's for talkin' shit, bitch,
I think, slammin' the door shut. I walk to the corner, and ten minutes later, Akina whips around the block in her forest-green 2007 745i, lookin' fly as hell in her fresh Versace shades.

She unlocks the doors, and I slide in. “What's the deal, baby girl?” I ask, closin' the door, then leanin' over and givin' her some tongue action. “You ready to fuck?”

“All damn day,” she says, runnin' her hand along my thigh, then grabbin' at my dick.

“Then let's roll,” I say, flippin' open my cell, and callin' Tamera's ass back. When she picks up, I say, “Aye, yo, I parked ya shit.”

“Where, motherfucker?”

“In ya muthafuckin' parkin' lot.”

“Well, where are my goddamn keys, nigga?”

“I put 'em in ya glove compartment.”

“Nigga, are you serious? Why the fuck would you leave my motherfuckin' keys in the car, with my doors unlocked so mother-fuckers can be all up in my shit?”

“I locked the doors, ya dumb-ass,” I snap, shuttin' the power off, then flippin' my phone shut. “Stupid bitch.”

Akina glances over at me. “You aiight, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm good,” I answer, adjustin' my seat, then reclinin' it all the way back. “But, I'll be even better”—I unzip my pants, then fish out my Johnson—“when you get on this dick.”

She grins, reachin' over and grabbin' it. She licks her lips. “Oooh, damn, daddy, it feels good in my hand.”

“And it's gonna feel even better in ya mouth.”

She laughs, puttin' her hand back on the steerin' wheel. “You so conceited and nasty, it's a damn shame.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I laugh, strokin' my dick. “Yo, you had breakfast, yet?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Why, you wanna stop and get something?'

“Nah, I wanna bust this nut real quick. Pull over somewhere and let me feed you ya mornin' shake.”

A cat like me loves gettin' his top spun in public. It's just sumthin' 'bout fuckin' and gettin' brain when you know you might get busted. And this fine-ass broad bein' the good little freak she is does what the fuck she's asked, pullin' into Aviation Plaza. She parks, shuts off the engine, leavin' the radio on. Then she leans over and takes my chocolate pole in her tiny soft hands, unlatchin' her jaws, then mountin' her hot mouth over the head of my dick, glidin' her pierced tongue all over it, slowly swallowin' it in inch-by-inch. When she gets half of it in, she starts to gag, but stops, steadies her breathin', then takes in more. I reach over and palm her ass, then slap it. It bounces and shakes. “Yeah, daddy gonna tear this ass up. You want daddy to beat this ass up?”

She moans, slurpin' and gulpin' down this pipe, cuppin' my balls. She pulls seven inches of my dick outta her throat, then starts jerkin' it off while suckin' my balls. Her nose is all up in my pubic hairs. She sniffs, sniffs again, then yanks her head up, frownin'.

“Aye, yo, why you stop?”

She twists her lips up and says, “It smells like pussy around your balls.”

“Yeah, okay, and?”

“Were you fuckin'?”

I frown.
What the fuck?! If this bitch starts that ‘I ain't suckin' ya dick' shit, I'ma scream on her ass.
“Yeah, earlier this mornin'. But
what the fuck that got to do wit' you handlin' ya business, now?” I squeeze my throbbin' dick at the base, grabbin' her by the back of the neck and pullin' her back down toward the mic. “You know you like pussy, so clock back in, and clean them balls up.”

She rolls her eyes, pushin' me offa her. “Yeah, I like pussy, nigga. But that doesn't mean I wanna smell another bitch's dried-up scent on your dick, and I damn sure don't wanna have to be the one to suck it off. That's real foul, nigga.”

I glare at her. “So you wanna beef, or you gonna finish suckin' this dick 'n balls? 'Cause if not, you can just drop me the fuck off at the crib, real talk.” She stares me down. I raise my brow, icegrillin' her. My patience for bullshit is short, 'specially when it comes to me tryna get this dick wet. I'll cut a bitch off real quick if she starts frontin' on this dick. “Yo, real talk, ma. You wastin' my muthafuckin' time. So what's it gonna be?”

“You make me sick, nigga,” she says, suckin' her teeth and leanin' back over to finish cleanin' my balls.

I grin. “Yeah, that's what the fuck I thought. I make you sick, aiight. But you ain't sick of this good dick, are you?” She ignores me, twirlin' her tongue 'round the head of my dick before pullin' my cum-funky, pussy-stained balls back into her mouth, one at a time. I lean my head back and allow her to let it do what it do. “There you go, baby, suck that cunt juice up offa them balls… yeah, that's it…you daddy's freak-nasty girl.”

Twenty minutes later, I shoot a load of gooey custard down in her throat. She swallows, then allows some to dribble outta her mouth and slide along the sides of my dick, then greedily slurps and laps up the rest of my nut.
Gobble, gobble
, I think, runnin' my hands through her hair.
Mmmm-hmmm, good
. “That's right, baby, drink up ya mornin' shake.”

 4 

Three hours later, the air in my room is hot, sweaty, and filled with the scent of intense fuckin'. Akina and I are sweaty and lay up in my bed, catchin' our breaths. Her head is on my chest and I am lightly brushin' my fingers over her soft skin. Yeah, a nigga like me likes to cuddle…uh, don't get shit twisted—only when I'm gonna benefit from it. Otherwise ya ass is beat. I'ma bust this nut, and be out.

“Why you so quiet?” she asks, liftin' her head up and lookin' at me.

I shake my head. “I'm thinkin'.”

“About what?”

I take my time before answerin', then sigh. “It's nuthin'.”

She lightly strokes my face, then traces my lips with her fingertips. “Alex, baby, don't do me like that. I told you, I'm here for you. I can tell something's on your mind. You can talk to me about anything. I got your back.”

I grab the side of my head, pressin' my eyes shut, actin' like I'm tryna fight back tears. “Yo, why you so good to me?”

“'Cause I love you.”

Awwww, damn! He we go wit' this love shit. The word makes a nigga like me cringe, but I keep it together. “But I ain't ya man. And I most likely never will be.”

“Yeah, I know. But it still doesn't change how I feel about you. I know you out there doin' you. Hell, don't think I'm not gettin' it in, but none of them niggas compare to you.”

I know that's right,
I think, holdin' back a grin,
'cause most of them niggas' dick game is whack.
“And that's how I feel 'bout you when it comes to them other broads I fuck. But don't let that shit go to ya pretty-ass head 'cause a nigga ain't tryna be put on lock.”

Although I just fed her a bunch of bullshit, Akina's still good peoples, and she's the type of broad a nigga like me needs on his team. But the bitch still ain't the type of broad I'd wanna wife. Any bitch who sucks the nut outta me, then swallows it on the first night ain't wifey material in my book. I don't give a fuck how fine ya ass is, or how good ya brain game is, you played ya'self. And you a damn freak-nasty bitch only good for fuckin' and suckin' on this dick. And that's what it is.

“Well, don't get gassed, nigga. The dick is good and all, but I ain't tryna put a lock 'n chain on it.”

Yeah, right.
“Oh, aiight, if you say so.”