Cairo: Daddy Long Stroke

“So, what you saying? You wanna start spending time together?”

Spendin’ time together? What the fuck? “Yo, ma, on some real shit. I ain’t checkin’ for you like that. And I’m definitely not lookin’ for nuthin’ serious; just some stress-free pussy from time to time, that’s it.”

“What, you got a girl or something?”

Hear we go with this shit, I think, grabbin’ the edge of her sheet and wipin’ my cum-slick dick off on it. She looks at me, frownin’. But I act like I don’t peep the shit. “Nah, I’m solo,” I say, pickin’ up my boxers that were tossed over in the corner of the room, then slippin’ them on. “But I gotta whole lotta friends.” I pull on my white tee, then reach into the front pocket of my True Religions and pull out my cell. I have forty-seven missed calls. The message envelope flashes, lettin’ me know I have voicemail. I stuff the phone back into my pocket.

“What’s a whole lot of friends?”

“Enough to keep my dick soaked,” I say, tryna keep from spazzin’ on her muthafuckin’ ass for bein’ so fuckin’ nosey. I can’t stand a bitch who yaks her fuckin’ jaws, askin’ me a bunch of dizzy-ass questions after I just finished servin’ her this dick.

“Hmmm,” she says, pausin’. I’m sure to try ’n figure out how many broads it’s takin’ to keep this pipe wet. She keeps her eyes on me, tiltin’ her head. “Well, if you so single, what’s your rush? Why you gotta leave?”

I stop what I’m doin’ and stare at her, long and hard. “Yo, I just gave you some good-ass dick. Don’t fuck it up by askin’ me a bunch of stupid-ass questions. I ain’t ya muthafuckin’ man. You dig what I’m sayin’?”

“I was just asking. I mean, I was hoping you would stay the night.”

“Well, listen, baby. If you want me to stay the night, then say it. But don’t come at me wit’ a buncha shit. Now, if you want me to keep servin’ you this dick, then you gonna have to make it worth my while. ’Cause time is money, and money is time.”

She blinks, takes in what I just said. I start puttin’ on my jeans. “How much you need?” she asks, lyin’ back on the bed, then pullin’ her legs up, and bendin’ ’em at the knees. “Give me another round of that dick, and I’ll make it worth your while.” I glance at her opened pussy—wet, wide and invitin’, then over at the clock: 3:14 A.M.

I pull off my shirt, kick off my jeans, step outta my boxers, then walk back over to the bed. “How much cash you got on you?” I ask, rollin’ another condom over my dick, then pullin’ her legs up over my shoulders. I slide my dick back in her.

She gasps, then whispers, “Oh, shit… goddamn… how much you need, baby?”

I grin, pumpin’ this dick deeper into her. I stick my tongue in her ear, then whisper, “I need five hunnid, ma.”

She squeezes my ass, pullin’ me into her. “Mmmph… aaah… ooooh… oh, shit… ohhhkaaaay, baby…”

I can’t believe it’s almost seven in the fuckin’ mornin’, and I’m racin’ down the Turnpike tryna get back to Jersey so I can take a long, hot shower, then jump my ass in the bed. A nigga’s beat. Word up. I yawn, flippin’ open my cell. Ah, shit . Sixty-two missed calls, ten messages—all from Tamera’s nutty-ass. I retrieve my messages, deletin’ ’em wit’out listenin’ to them shits. I know I need to call this ho. But I gotta have my mind right, first, before fuckin’ wit’ her dramatic ass. I can’t stand a bitch who gotta make a production outta e’ery goddamn thing—yellin’ ’n screamin’ and cursin’ ’bout stupid shit, feel me? And that’s exactly how Tamera gets down.

I reach into my ashtray and pull out a half-smoked Dutch. I spark it, take a hit, then hold the smoke in my lungs before slowly blowin’ it out. I switch the cell’s ringer from QUIET to NORMAL, tossin’ the phone over on the passenger seat. On some real shit, though, I had no intentions of keepin’ this bitch’s Acura coupe out all night. I just planned to run up to Connecticut, fuck ole girl real quick, then swing back through and hit Tamera off wit’ some of this good lovin’. But shit didn’t go down like that. On the way, I stopped off in Brooklyn to give my peoples Electra—this little Dominican and black chick—her weekly feedin’, and scoop up a few dollars from her ass. Yo, this sexy-ass broad is a true dick washer. I swear this ho gotta clit in her throat. I never seen a chick nut the way she does by just suckin’ a nigga’s dick. Her throat game is wicked. I ended up stayin’ almost two hours with her, lettin’ her spit shine this nozzle, and gargle up these balls. And as an extra treat, I dicked her down nice ’n slow—after she hit me off wit’ some paper, of course—wit’ eight inches of this dick ’cause that’s all she can take. But she loves this good shit. And she has no problem linin’ a nigga’s pockets wit’ paper she gets from some other nigga she’s fuckin’. By the time I bounced from her spot—wit’ three Benjamins in pocket—it was already three o’clock.

I finish my blunt, then spark another one, takin’ three hits before reachin’ for my cell. I flip it open. Take a deep breath, and dial, knowin’ this ho is ’bout to fuck up my high. Watch.

“Hello?!” she snaps, soundin’ all wired up ’n shit.

“Yo, what’s good?” I ask all cool, calm and collected.

“ Yo, what’s good?!? Motherfucker, WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GODDAMN CAR?! I’ve been calling you all motherfucking day and night. You got me running around all over town looking for your black ass, calling hospitals ’n shit, thinking your goddamn ass was somewhere dead. And you got the fucking nerve to call here all nonchalant like shit’s good. Nigga, you really fucked up! You knew I had to go to fucking work yesterday. You lucky I didn’t call the police on ya black ass. That was a real bullshit-ass stunt you pulled, nigga. But trust and believe. You will never get your ass behind my motherfucking steering wheel again.”

“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.”