The Kat Trap (17 page)

He nodded. “Yeah, daddy’s ready to fuck that young, sweet pussy.” The nigga lay there like he was ready to dick me raw. Oh, hell no! I looked at his ass like he was fuckin’ crazy.

“Well, get ya ass up and get a condom,” I snapped. When the muhfucka told me he didn’t have any, I was fuckin’ through. Do you hear me? Done! “What?!” I yelled. “You jokin’, right?”

He sat up on the bed, leanin’ back on his forearms. “Sorry, babe, when I travel I don’t usually carry condoms with me. I don’t usually get offered pussy from beautiful young women. Besides, I thought you were gonna bring some.”

What the fuck!
I took a deep breath, gettin’ up off the bed. A bitch was in heat, and this muhfucka wasn’t even prepared to stoke my fire. I walked over to the other side of the room and yanked up my bag. I dug inside it while walkin’ back over to the bed. Though his balcony door was closed, you could still hear the band blarin’ outside. I wrapped my hand ’round what I needed.

“Well,” I said. “I guess that means there’ll be no pussy for you. And since you gypped a bitch from gettin’ her fuck on, I’ma hafta shut ya lights out early,” I said, pullin’ out my Glock and spittin’ a bullet in his forehead. His head jerked backward before he had a chance to open his mouth. “Night-night, muhfucka!”

I wiped his ass down and e’erything I touched, then removed his sheets. I stared at his big dick and rolled my eyes. Damn you! I leaned over and licked it one last time, then threw the comforter over his body and snuck outta his room.

Back in my suite, I opened up my cell and called Cash. “I know why the caged bird sings,” I said, pullin’ off my wig and takin’ off the rest of my costume.

“That’s what it is,” he replied. “It’s ’bout damn time. I’ll get at you.”

I said nothin’, just hung up. I glanced over at the clock on my nightstand. It was nine-thirty. “I’m takin’ my ass down to the Gaslamp Quarter tonight to get my dance on before I jet tomorrow,” I said aloud, layin’ ’cross the bed and spreadin’ open my legs, then reachin’ for my dildo. “But first I’ma finish gettin’ my nut off.”
How that dumb muhfucka not gonna have a goddamn condom,
I thought as I plunged the head of my dildo inside my hungry, soppin’-wet pussy.
I shoulda shot his bitch ass in his fuckin’ nuts.

T
hree weeks later, and after many nightly phone conversations, and several more dinner and lunch dates, a bitch was finally on her knees bein’ fucked down lovely by Grant. We’d been fuckin’ for almost an hour, and he had rocked my pussy in six different positions before wantin’ it doggie-style. I got up on all fours, spread open my ass cheeks with my legs spread wide, pressed my head down into the mattress, and arched my back while he ate my pussy from the back, tongue-fuckin’ me before slidin’ his dick up in me.

He started hittin’ my walls and stretchin’ the back of my pussy so good, I started to shake. And the nigga had me on fuckin’ fire. I was so worried ’bout whether or not he could fuck, and the muhfucka slayed my pussy a new rhythm. His dick game was tight, his slurp game was serious, his money was right, and he was
fine
. It was after my fifth nut that a bitch realized he was that
nigga I had dreamed ’bout growin’ up. He
was
the nigga I’d been waitin’ for to scoop a bitch up and love.

“Damn, baby, you wet,” he said, pumpin’ his dick deep, fast, and furious inside of me. “Damn, this pussy good.” My pussy was hot, tight, and creamy from the big horse dick he was servin’ me. He was diggin’ my guts out.

“Yeah, nigga, fuck my pussy,” I grunted, pullin’ my ass cheeks open wider so he could make the dick do what it do. He slammed it in me. I kept my head down, arched my back, and pumped my hips. “Uh…mmmph. Yeah, just like that. Mmmph…harder, muhfucka.” His balls slapped against my pussy while it swished and splashed juices all over his dick. “Beat this pussy up, nigga.”

He slapped my ass with his big-ass hands. The shit stung, but it felt good as hell. “You like talkin’ shit, hunh?” he asked, smackin’ my ass again, and again, and again—alternatin’ from one cheek to the other while slammin’ his dick in and out of me. He had my ass bouncin’ and shakin’ all over the place. I groaned and moaned. “I don’t hear you talkin’ shit now…what was all that slick shit you was poppin’, hunh?” I shifted forward. “Nah, baby, don’t start runnin’ from this dick, now.” He slapped me on the ass. “This pussy’s mine.”

“Nigga, ain’t nobody runnin’ from ya dick,” I gasped, backin’ my ass up on him, pumpin’ my hips. I started grabbin’ his dick with my pussy. “Nigga, this pussy was made for takin’ dick.”

He slapped me on the ass again, then pressed down on the small of my back with one hand on top of the other, pumpin’ in and out, movin’ like a runaway slave. “Yeah, baby…that’s right, give me that pussy…”

“Fuck my pussy, nigga. Oh, yes, just like that…fuck me!”

I was throwin’ this ass back at him, grippin’ his dick.

“Aaah, fuck, yeah…that’s right; keep talkin’ shit,” he said, rapidly slammin’ his dick in and out of me. My hot juices sloshed all over his dick as his balls slapped the back of my pussy.

I held back a scream. Oh, my fuckin’ God, the nigga’s dick game was fire! But I wasn’t gonna let ’im know it. I threw my ass back at him. “When you gonna start fuckin’ me instead of runnin’ ya mouth, muhfucka. When you gonna put ya dick in me?”

The nigga was slayin’ my pussy a mile a minute. I had the muhfucka workin’ for that nut. Had him goin’ deep, fast, hard, long, and strong. Sweat dripped off his face down on my back. “Oh, you can’t feel this dick?”

“Uh…Mmmph, no, nigga,” I grunted, throwin’ my ass up on his dick. “You teasin’ me with that little-ass finga.” He grabbed me by the hips, liftin’ me up off the bed like I was a wheelbarrow, then slayed my insides a new rhythm. It felt like he was tryna knock my uterus off the hinges. “Mmmm…oh, shit…oh, shit…”

He was grindin’ and snappin’ his hips into me, makin’ his balls slap up against the back of my pussy. “What you moanin’ for? I thought you said you couldn’t feel this dick. I thought you said I was fuckin’ you with a little-ass finger.” I reached between my legs and started rubbin’ my clit. The nigga was fuckin’ a bitch silly. I started comin’ and comin’ and comin’, squeezin’ my pussy around his dick. “Damn, baby…oh, shit. Damn, you ’bout to make me bust this nut up in ya…”

“That’s right,” I whispered. “Cum for me, big daddy…give me that hot nut, muhfucka.”

“Where you want it?” he asked, gruntin’ and groanin’ and sweatin’.

Even though he had his dick wrapped, the thought of suckin’
my pussy juice off his dick had me shakin’. A bitch loved tastin’ her creamy nut on a nigga’s big dick. And if he ended up bein’ my man, that’s how I’d take it—raw. “Down my throat,” I said, clampin’ my pussy around his dick. “Let me suck the nut outta ya.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s wassup.” He pulled out, removed the rubber while I quickly turned around and took his dick into my mouth, then swallowed that shit inch by inch until I had the head of his dick down in my throat. I played with his heavy balls. “Oh, shit. You suckin’ that shit. Yeah, baby. Suck daddy’s dick.”

“You like that shit?” I asked, twirlin’ my tongue ’round the head of his dick.

“Yeah, baby…aaah, shit yeah. Suck that dick.”

I hummed and licked and swallowed his cock until he shot his thick nut. By the time I pulled his dick outta my throat and started suckin’ the head, he had bust another load. I licked my lips, and slurped up the cream from around his balls, then pulled him toward me by the back of his neck and slid my tongue into his mouth, givin’ him a taste of his own juices. My thing is, if a nigga can’t kiss me after I let him bust his nut in my mouth, then that ain’t the muhfucka for me. And, on some real shit, the muhfucka would never get piped out again.

Anyway, after we finished kissin’ and whatnot, he held me in his arms. And I felt somethin’ I had never felt before. Safe.

“Damn, girl,” he said, runnin’ his fingas through my hair. I wasn’t one of those bitches who got heated when a nigga dug his hands in her hair, ’cause a bitch didn’t have to worry ’bout no tracks ’n shit gettin’ yanked or his hand gettin’ stuck. “You keep suckin’ and wettin’ this dick the way you do, and you gonna have a nigga fall for your sexy ass.”

I lifted my head from his chest, and looked at him. I’m a bitch
who knows how to suck a nigga’s dick, and fuck him until his head is spinnin’ and his knees are shakin’. And I knew, once a bitch got inside a nigga’s mind, she’d eventually get into his heart too.

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

“It’s all good,” he said, rubbin’ the side of my face. “I dig your style. You the type of chick a nigga like me needs in his life.”

I smiled.
’Cause I’m that bitch,
I thought.

Silence.

“So what does a beautiful woman like you do? You in school, workin’…what’s really good with you?” he asked, runnin’ his hands up and down the curves of my body, then cuppin’ my left titty with his big hand.

I looked up at him again, stared him dead in the eyes. “I’m a villainess,” I said.

He busted out laughin’. “Yo, you funny as hell,” he said, still laughin’. “Nah, seriously, how you making ya paper?”

For some reason, I wanted to spill my guts and tell his ass my whole life story. There was somethin’ ’bout him that made me wanna keep shit real with him. But I didn’t wanna spook the nigga. So I kept it cute. I shifted my body and took his dick back into my mouth until it bricked up again, slobbered all over it, lapped his hairy balls with my tongue, then climbed back up on top of him. I slid down on his dick and did what I do best…welcomed him into the Kat Trap.

A
lmost a month had passed since I saw my moms or even spoke to her ass, but the shit Chanel had told me ’bout her bein’ knocked the fuck up was still floatin’ around in a bitch’s head. And it was fuckin’ with me. I wanted, needed, to know what was really good with her ass. But I also wasn’t beat to call her. Call it pride. Call it stubbornness. Call it whatever the fuck you want. Bottom line, I wasn’t callin’ her. But I called Tamia’s ho ass instead.

“Hello?”

“Bitch,” I snapped, “don’t front like you don’t know who the fuck it is. I know ya ass saw my number come up.”

“Humph,” she grunted, suckin’ her teeth. “Whatever.”

I could tell the bitch was still salty, like I gave a fuck. I kept on pressin’. “What’s good with ya trick ass?” I asked.

“Not a damn thing, bitch. Now what you want ’cause I know this ain’t no fuckin’ social call.”

I laughed. “Ho, I know ya ass ain’t still heated.”

She sucked her teeth. “The fuck I ain’t. Bitch, that was some real foul shit you pulled at Chanel’s, tryna come at my neck all sideways ’n shit. On some real shit, I ain’t really feelin’ ya ass right now, Kat.”

“Bitch, get over ya’self,” I snapped. “Ain’t shit changed, ho. You still my bitch. I just wanted to know what was really good with ya ass.”

“Well, you didn’t have to try ’n play me out ’n shit. You coulda came at me differently.”

I sighed. “Tamia, please…shoulda, coulda, woulda. Since when ya ass get all sensitive ’n shit? I heard some shit, and I asked ya silly-ass about it. You said the shit wasn’t true, so why the fuck is you still stressin’ over it? But on some real shit, I don’t give a fuck ’bout ya fuckin’ attitude. Like I said, you still my bitch. But, you actin’ like you wanna get it in or some shit. And you already know what it is. So, don’t do it.”

“No, bitch,” she snapped.
“You
know what it is. It’s whatever.”

I took a deep, slow breath. “Oh, so you really tryna get it in over some dumb shit. Bitch, I will push ya muthafuckin’ wig back, and you know this. On some real shit, don’t go there. I can’t believe you really tryna bring it when you know I will straight rock ya ass.” I bust out laughin’. “Bitch, you done really let all that nut up in ya guts go to ya fuckin’ knotty-ass head, for real.”

“You know what, Kat, I am so fuckin’ sick of you, bitch. Real talk. Chanel ’n them might let ya ass come at them any kinda way, but—”

“Bitch, what the fuck Chanel ’n them got to do with this?”

“—I ain’t the one. Fuck what ya heard,” she continued. “I’ma grown-ass woman and how you tried to get at me was on some real shady shit.” Oh my God, I was so ready to blast this ho’s ass. I bit down on my bottom lip and let her continue. “Ever since you left Brooklyn you really been on some extra shit, and I ain’t feelin’ it. Instead of clockin’ what the fuck I do, you need to worry ’bout ya own shit. You act like you better than somebody;
like you can’t be touched. Bitch, you bleed like I bleed. You shit like I shit. You ain’t the baddest bitch around, be clear. ’Cause you can get it, too.”

“Wow, I musta really hit a nerve.”

“Nah, bitch, you ain’t hit shit. I just don’t ’preciate how you tried to shine on me. That shit was jacked the fuck up.”

“Okay, you already said that.”

“And I’ma say it a thousand more times if I want, and
what,
bitch?”

Deep breath.

Silence.

“Are you done?” I finally asked, really tryna hold my tongue. “’Cause you do know, bitch, I really don’t give a fuck. You do know this. But if you need to get ya shit off, then do you.” Yeah, she was heated, but no matter how much shit she popped, I knew this ho didn’t really want it.

“Fuck you, Kat. I hate ya ugly ass.”

I laughed. “Bitch, is there anything else you gotta say, that you wanna say, that you think you need to say? ’Cause I ain’t call ya ass for this.”

“Well, what the fuck you call for, then?”

“What’s the name of that doctor’s office Tameka works at?”

“I don’t know,” she said. But I could tell the bitch was lyin’.

“Well, let me get her number so I can ask her myself.”

“You know I don’t give out nobody’s numbers ’n shit.”

“Humph. Well, call her and give her mine ’cause I need to speak to her.”

“Why, you pregnant or something?”

“No, bitch, I ain’t pregnant. But, I heard my moms was up in that piece. So, I need to see what’s good.”

And when I catch her ass, I’ma dig in her fuckin’ face.

“Well, then, why the fuck you don’t call ya moms and ask her?”

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously, bitch, I’m not speakin’ to her. Duh, now follow the yellow brick road and call ya damn sista, and tell her to call me.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Since we were addressin’ shit and the bitch was already vexed with me, I figured I might as well keep shit goin’. “By the way, what’s good with them E’s?”

“What?” she asked, soundin’ shocked. “E’s? What you talkin’ ’bout?”

I sighed, suckin’ my teeth. “I’m talkin’ ’bout
you
poppin’ E’s, that’s what.”

“Who told you that?”

“Is it true?” I asked, iggin’ her ass. I hated when bitches asked who told someone somethin’ ’bout them. I’m like, who the fuck cares who said it; either the shit’s true or it isn’t.

“I do my thing from time to time,” she said. “Why?”

I shook my head. A part of me had hoped the shit wasn’t true; that hatin-ass bitches and niggas were just talkin’. But from the looks of things, e’erything Naheem said was true. “’Cause the streets is talkin’,” I stated, soundin’ real disgusted. “But on some real shit, I wasn’t tryna believe it.”

“Why is muhfuckas all up on my clit? Damn, can’t a bitch do her without niggas clockin’ my moves? What the fuck!”

Okay, now the bitch was tryna shine like she was a rock star or some shit. “Well, maybe it’s the company you keep. Obviously them niggas you gettin’ it in with don’t give a fuck ’bout you. They got you soundin’ real loose ’n shit. Maybe you should chill out for a minute.”

“Bitch,” she snapped, “don’t judge me. I’m doin’ me. And whoever don’t like it can eat my big, black ass.”

“Trick, ain’t nobody judgin’ ya dumb ass. If anything, I’m tryna come at ya ass on some real shit. I don’t like what the fuck I’m hearin’ ’bout you. And if we girls ’n shit, then I should be able to confront you about it. You should know I’m a real bitch. I ain’t gonna grin all up in ya grill, then kick ya back in. I’ma come at you on some woman-to-woman-type shit. Now, do you have the herpes or not?” The bitch got quiet. For a hot minute, I thought the ho hung up on me. “Hello, you still there?”

“Yeah, bitch.”

“Well?”

“I’m not answerin’ that,” she said. “That’s none of ya muhfuckin’ business.”

“Sweetie,” I said, gettin’ up from the sofa and walkin’ into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and took out the cranberry juice, then poured some into a glass. “You just did.” I gulped it down, tryna ease the dryness in my throat from talkin’ to this chick. For some reason, I almost felt bad for her ass. Why, I don’t know. ’Cause at the end of the day, the bitch deserved whateva the fuck her hand called for. “You betta be careful ’cause niggas is really sayin’ you burnin’ ’em.”

“Oh, well,” she said.

I screamed on her ass. “Oh, well?!? Bitch, is you fuckin’ crazy? What kinda shit is that? If your ass got that shit, you need to be gettin’ ya ass treated, then chalk it up as a lesson learned, instead of tryna spread that shit, fuckin’ up people’s lives ’n shit.”

“Kat,” she said, sighin’. “You do you, and let me do me. I’m not puttin’ a gun to a nigga’s head. If he wanna fuck raw, then we fuckin’ raw; if he wanna wrap up, cool. If not, then the shit’s on
him. Fuck at ya own risk. If he doesn’t give a fuck, why should I?”

Needless to say, a bitch was through. “You know what,” I said, rollin’ a blunt, “that’s some real grimy shit you doin’, real talk.”

“Well, right now, that’s how I’m livin’. I’m like whateva. Muhfuckas didn’t give a fuck ’bout me—”

“So you turn around and do the same shit. Bitch, if you don’t give a fuck ’bout you, then what the fuck makes you think a nigga should? You gotta look out for you first. And that means protectin’ ya’self and makin’ a muhfucka strap up. Fuck all the extras. You playin’ Russian roulette. Next time you might end up with somethin’ worse.”

“Obviously, I didn’t get that memo. And it’s a bit late. So yeah, if the mood hits me, I’m suckin’ and fuckin’ and poppin’ E’s. We all gotta die someday.”

Let me tell you. I knew right then and there that this chick was turnin’ into a real live cum-guzzlin’, junkie bitch. Okay, okay, maybe she wasn’t a junkie yet, but with the way her reckless ass was movin’, it was only a matter of time.

“Well, are you at least on some kinda medication or somethin’?”

“Kat, listen. I don’t wanna talk ’bout this. It is what it is. So don’t be askin’ me a bunch of questions. I don’t need ya tryna air my business out.”

Oh, my fuckin’ God, this hoodrat bitch was actin’ like she was a damn victim; she’s the one makin’ choices to be loose in the ass, fuckin’ e’erything movin’, and she wanna act like somebody raped her ass or somethin’ and gave her the shit.

“Me, air ya business out? Bitch, is you suckin’ on paint chips or somethin’? I don’t gotta air shit out. Niggas got ya stank ass all over the front page of the street news. You a walkin’ billboard, ho. So, get real.” I grunted. “Uh. You know what…forget it. Like
you said, you a grown woman, so do you. But I think ya ass is playin’ with fire.”

“That’s ya opinion.”

“You right, it is.”

“Well, when I ask for it, then it’ll matter. Until then, I don’t give a fuck ’bout ya opinions ’n shit. So do me a favor and keep ’em to ya’self.”

“Oh, trust. You ain’t gotta worry,” I said, takin’ two pulls on my blunt. “I’m done. From this moment on, I’ma keep my mouth shut. Just have your sister call me. I need to speak to her.”

“Whenever I talk to her, I’ll let her know.”

“Do that,” I stated. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?”

“Grown-ass women don’t still live in the projects with they mammies, sneakin’ niggas into they bedrooms.”

“Fuck—”

I ended the call on her ass. Silly bitch!

Two days later, Tameka’s monkey ass finally hit me up. And the bitch came at me with major ’tude. But instead of blastin’ her ass like I wanted to, I kept it cute. “Hey, girl,” I said. “What’s good?”

“What’s up?” she questioned, soundin’ all paranoid ’n shit. “T said you were tryna get at me. What you need?”

“Well, I wanted to know the name of that doctor’s office you work at.”

I could see the bitch twistin’ her lips up, lookin’ at the phone. “Why you wanna know that?” she asked, soundin’ all tight ’n whatnot.

I sighed, then paused. “Because I need to get tested, ASAP,” I lied.

“Well, that’s not what T said. She said you was tryna get at me ’bout your moms ’n shit.”

Well, if you knew that already, bitch, why the fuck you askin’.
I shook my head, rollin’ my eyes. I thought for a quick minute how I was gonna come at her. Although I wanted to really dig in her ass over the phone, I knew if I did she’d hang up, then I wouldn’t get what I wanted. And right now, my only focus was gettin’ at her. Keepin’ shit real, I didn’t know if my issue was really with her flappin’ her fuckin’ gums or if it was ’bout the idea of my moms bein’ pregnant again. I was feelin’ some kinda way that the bitch barely wanted me growin’ up and now…humph. I ain’t even goin’ there, not now, anyway.

“I…well, on some real shit, I had heard my moms was up in ya spot. I woulda asked her where the spot was, but we beefin’ again. And I ain’t beat to call her ass ’bout shit.”

“Humph. Ya’ll at it again. That’s a damn shame.”

And so is ya damn grill,
I thought. “Anyway,” I said, pausin’. “I think a bitch is knocked.”

“Get the fuck outta here?!” She laughed. “Not Miss I Got My Shit Together. Humph. Now, that shit’s priceless.”

I don’t know what the fuck she thought was so goddamn funny, but I humored her dusty ass, anyway. “I know, right,” I said, givin’ this bitch one of my phony laughs. “A bitch got caught up in the dick. Hey, shit happens—even to the best of us.”

“So why you ain’t tell Tamia? She didn’t say shit ’bout you bein’ knocked up. What’s good with that?”

This stupid bitch,
I thought. “’Cause I didn’t tell her,” I said. “That’s why.”

“So, what you tryna do?”

“Well, right now, I need to be seen. I haven’t given much thought to what I’ma do after that. A bitch ain’t tryna have no baby.” I threw that in for good measure.

“Well, I can schedule you to see one of our doctors next—”

“Girl, can I get somethin’ sooner? I’m already two months late. A bitch is stressed.”

She sighed. “Let me see.” I heard papers shufflin’ in the background. “Hold on,” she said. I smiled.
Yeah, I’ll hold on alright, ho.
Well, the bitch had me on hold for almost five minutes. “Okay, I can get you in to see one of the doctors tomorrow at three forty-five.”

“That’s perfect. Umm, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, if I can.”

“Well, can you keep this on the low until after I find out what’s really good with me?”

“Girl, you know how I do. We from the same ’hood. I got you. Just let me know how you make out.”

I laughed to myself, rollin’ my eyes.
Yeah, bitch, you right. I know exactly how you do.
I already knew the minute I hung up her he-mannish ass was gonna be on the phone with Tamia’s infested ass. And then she got the fuckin’ nerve to ask me to let her know how the fuck I make out. This nosey bitch knew I knew that if I really was goin’ there for an appointment, she’d have her pudgy-ass nose all up in my file.

I sighed for effect, actin’ like I was relieved. “Thanks, I owe you.”

“Oh, trust. I’ma hold you to it.”

Oh, please. When I finish with ya ass, the only thing ya gonna be holdin’ is ya face.

She gave me the address. I twisted my face up when I saw that it was on Pacific Avenue.
Hmm,
I thought,
I thought Chanel’s ass said the spot was over on Atlantic. That bitch can’t get shit straight.