Daddy Long Stroke (8 page)

“Nah, baby,” I say, lowerin' my voice, tryna get my sexy on. “I ain't on it like that. I'm just sayin'. After our last phone epp 'n shit, you had a nigga ready to beat sumthin' up the other night, feel me? You was talkin' like you really 'bout it. Like you was ready to put some work in. You tryna give me some of that goodie-goodie or what?”

The dumb bitch giggles. “Yeah. I'm about it. I already told you what it is. It's whatever.”

“That's what it is, then. I'ma be down there tomorrow afternoon. So I'ma see what's really good wit' you.”

“For real?” her squealin' ass asks, soundin' all excited 'n shit. “How long you gonna be down here?”

“A few days, maybe a week. It depends.”

“Who you staying with?”

“I gotta room,” I lie. But, if I know her like I think I do, before we hang up, she'll be beggin' a nigga to squat at her spot. I always like to let a chick think she's the one comin' up wit' the ideas, when it's really me pullin' the strings, manipulatin' her puppet-ass into givin' me what I want.

“A room?”

“Yeah, baby. It's not like I know anyone there. I'm comin' to chill to see how I'ma like it if I decide to move out there, feel me? Besides it's my birthday weekend, so I'm tryna get into sumthin' different, and let it do what it do.”

“Wow. I thought you were only talking when you said you might move out here. What day is your birthday on?”

“It's Saturday, baby,” I tell her, slippin' my hand over my dick, then massagin' my balls. A nigga's ready for some more pussy, real talk. “Why, you tryna throw me a party, or sumthin'?”

She laughs. “Maybe, you never know. It'll be a surprise.”

“Well, just so you know, baby. A nigga like me loves surprises. So, you got all weekend to amaze me.”

“OhmyGaaaawd, I really thought you were joking.”

“Nah, baby. A nigga like me keeps shit real. If I say I'ma do sumthin', then that's what it is. And I'm hopin' to dig that back out while I'm out there, you feel me?”

Silence. The dick-hungry bitch's thinkin'.

“Yo, you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm here. Um, I was just thinking.”

I smirk. “'Bout what, baby?”

“About you staying here instead of a hotel.”

“So, whatchu sayin'?”

“Why don't you stay here? You don't need to be up in some hotel all by yourself.”

I grin. “Damn, baby, I'm sayin'. I can't do you like that. I don't wanna put you out, feel me?”

“No, it's cool. I'm off the rest of the week, so we could spend the whole week together, and do something really nice for your birthday. I can even take you sightseeing, or we can just chill or whatever. Besides, I know this really nice restaurant we could go to for your birthday.”

Yeah, the “whatever” bein' me showin' ya ass howta spend ya checks.
“Well, check this out. The only sights I'm tryna see while I'm there is that big, fluffy ass of yours bent over wit' this dick goin' in and outta ya pussy. Then I wanna see you down on ya knees wit' my balls smackin' ya chin while you suckin' on this dick, real talk, ya heard?”

“Ooh, that sounds good to me.”

“Then that's what it is.”

“What time does your flight get in tomorrow?” I give her the flight details. “Okay, I'm gonna pick you up at the airport, so cancel your rental.”

Hell, I didn't even have one, but I go along wit' it anyway. “You sure? 'Cause I can just drive out to you?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. I told you I'm off, so it's not a problem.”

“Aiight, then, bet. I hope you ain't gonna front on a nigga.”

“Hell no,” she says. I can tell she's grinnin' and all happy 'n shit 'cause she's 'bout to get her ass some thick, juicy Jersey dick. “I been thinking about you every since we started kicking it on Myspace and on the phone. I'ma be there before the plane hits the ground, waiting for you. You just don't know how you made my day. OhmyGaaaawd. I'm so excited.” Sounds like the chick is salivatin'.
Them country-ass, bama niggas down there must not be slingin' no real dick.

“Aiight, then, baby girl. I'ma see ya fine-ass tomorrow. And when you come through, don't wear no panties. I wanna play in ya pussy on the way back to ya spot.”

“Okay,” she says. “Can't wait to finally see you in the flesh.”

“I can dig it. One more day, and it's fuck city, baby. So, brace ya'self 'cause you 'bout to get the muthafuckin' ride of ya life. See ya tomorrow.”

“Umm,” she says, clearin' her throat. “I need to tell you something before you get here.”

“Aiight. I'm listenin',” I say, rollin' over on my side, starin' at the wall.

“Uh…” The bitch pauses. And I start thinkin',
Awwww, shit. This ho is 'bout to tell me she looks like Fiona
in
Shrek.

“Yo, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Aiight, then. So what's good? What you gotta tell me?”

“Well…uh, those pictures I sent…well, they don't really look like me.”

I frown.
I knew it! The bitch gotta face like a groundhog.
“So, what you sayin'? Ya ass is ugly or sumthin'? 'Cause the chick in those flicks look good as hell, word up.”

“No, no, I look good.”

“You got that fat ass, right?”

“Yes.

“Okay, then, you still fuckable. So what's the problem?”

“Well, I'm much shorter, and a bit lighter, in person.”

I let out a sigh, chucklin'. “That's it? Shit. I thought you was 'bout to hit a nigga wit' some shit like you was a burn victim wit' no teeth and legs.”

She laughs. “No, nothing like that. I have all of my teeth. And I'm definitely not a burn victim. I just didn't want you to be caught off guard when we met.”

“Check this shit out,” I say. “As long as you gotta fat ass, ya pussy is clean, and you tryna eat this nut outta my dick, we cool. You dig what I'm sayin'?”

“Oh, good. That's a big relief. Most guys start tripping once they meet me.”

Trippin' 'bout what?
“Yo, you ain't no muthafuckin' nigga, are you?”

“Huh?”

“Yo, don't ‘huh' me. Do you have a muthafuckin' dick hangin' between ya legs? A muhfucka like me ain't on it like that, real talk. 'Cause you tryna get ya muthafuckin' biscuit pushed in if so.”

She laughs. “OhmyGod, nooooo. I'm all woman.”

“Oh, aiight then. I was 'bout to say. Fuck 'round and have me catcha case. As long as you were born wit' a
real
pussy and some
real
titties, it's all good.”

“I promise you, I was born female.”

“Then we cool. Just make sure you got ya fine ass at the airport to pick me up.”

“I will.” We bullshit for a few extra minutes, then hang up. I let out a loud-ass yawn, then close my eyes, thinkin' 'bout all that juicy Georgia Peach ass I'ma get up in while I'm down there. I think 'bout callin' Keisha to come through and suck on this dick, but decide to jerk my shit instead. Yeah, I know I just finished fuckin' a few hours ago. And? Fuck what ya heard. A muhfucka likes to beat his shit, too, which is what I contribute my great dick and nut control to. Some days when I'm jackin' off I wanna slow-bleed this nut, which is where I'm jerkin' my dick, then I stop strokin' it, and just let my nut flow out by itself. Other times, I wanna gusher-type nut where I keep beatin' my dick 'til I'm 'bout to nut, then stop, let my nut roll back down into my balls, then start beatin' my dick again. I keep doin' it over and over again, bringin' me closer and closer to the edge. Then when I'm finally ready to bust, I pump my dick hard and fast and let my nut fly out all over the place. Whew! That shit be good as hell, word up. Some niggas think jackin' off when you got a steady flow of pussy is whack, but them dumb-ass muhfuckas got it twisted. Beatin' ya dick can teach you a lot 'bout ya body.

And 'cause of all my years of beatin' this dick, a muhfucka can fuck for almost two hours straight before bustin' a nut if I want.
But that usually depends on how good the pussy or head is, and the type of ho servin' it up. If she's broke, she could end up gettin' slayed wit' three to thirty minutes' worth of dick. But, if she's a ho lacin' a nigga and handlin' a muhfucka real proper, then I'ma most likely run an all-nighter on her.

Anyway, today, I'ma make this a quick nut. I glance at the clock: 1:47
P.M.
I grab the baby oil offa the nightstand, then let it do what it do. Ten minutes later, I spit this nut, then roll over and fall off to sleep, 'cause a nigga's beat.

 7 

It's almost seven-thirty in the evenin'. I decide to swing past my moms to see how she's doin' 'n shit since I'ma be outta town for a minute. Besides, I haven't seen her in a week or so. The minute my phone rings, I suck my teeth. Tamera's blowin' the shit up, again. I ignore the bitch. Now she's textin' me. And a nigga like me ain't beat for this textin' bullshit. I read the message:
Nigga, that's real fucked up how you locked my motherfucking keys in my car. And now your black ass avoiding my goddamn calls. But it's all good, nigga.
I delete the shit. Dumb bitch!

“I don't believe this shit,” I say, shocked to see my pops' car up in my moms' driveway as I pull up alongside the front of her spot, then park. From where I'm sitttin', it looks dark as hell up in that piece. Not one damn light is on.
What the fuck is he doin' over here,
I think, takin' a hit off my Dutch.
And why the fuck are all the lights out? I know they ain't up in there fuckin'
.
Mom can't stand his ass.

Okay, on some real shit. I was kinda fucked up for a minute when Moms and Pops split up. I mean, I was like one of the few cats on my block who had both parents—who worked—under the same roof, feel me? Even if they hardly spoke, unless it was to yell or scream at the other; even if they were both fuckin' on the side—they were still together. And we were a family. You dig what I'm sayin'?

I lay my head back on the headrest, then turn my head toward the house I grew up in—the same house Moms tossed my ass
outta—and stare. Moms' voice rings in my head. It's 1988, and I'm ten again.

“Alexander Maples, do you hear me calling you, boy? I told you I had somewhere to be, now hurry your ass on.”

I sucked my teeth. “I'm comin', Ma,” I yelled down the stairs. I walked back into my room, shuttin' the door, then finished dressin'. “Dang, I don't know why I can't stay home,” I complained, check-in' myself out in my mirror. “I'm almost eleven. And Daddy said I'm almost a man.” I slipped on my jean shorts, pulled my white tee over my head, then put on my black high-top Chucks.

“Now
, Alex,” she yelled. “Not tomorrow.” She was already at the front door wit' her keys in her hand, tappin' her foot when I finally came down the stairs, frownin'. “Boy, bring your ass on. And fix your damn face. I didn't give birth to no ugly-ass child.”

“I don't wanna go,” I whined.

She squinted her eyes at me. “Alex, I'm telling you right now.
Don't
start, okay?”

I stuck my bottom lip out, poutin'. “I'ma tell Daddy,” I snapped, stompin' past her. Before I could get outta the door, she yanked me by the arm, swingin' me 'round to face her. She dug her nails into my skin. “Owww,” I winced. “You hurtin' me.”

“In a minute, I'ma do more than hurt you. Do you want them new sneakers today?”

I quickly nodded my head. I wanted the fresh Air Jordans that had just hit the shelves. They were like a hunnid 'n shit. And I woulda done any muthafuckin' thing Moms told me to do to rock them shits before e'eryone else got 'em.

“Then what the hell do you
think
you gonna tell him, huh?” she snapped through clenched teeth. “Half the time his black ass ain't here, and the other half of the time when he is here it's like him not being here any damn way 'cause he's too busy fucking
God knows who or what. If he can be out wetting his dick, then damn it, I can be out wetting one, too. I have needs. And you will not have me choose between you or them. So what the fuck are you gonna tell him?” She dug her nails deeper into my arm.