Cairo - Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

He pushes the head in. Tip drills me, then goes all in, grabbin’ me by the hips. The nigga ain’t hittin’ the bottom, but he’s damn sure knockin’ the sides out. “Oh, fuck…this pussy’s good as hell.”

I crane my neck, peep the nigga over my shoulder tossin’ his head back. I squeeze my muscles, grab at his dick. Make the nigga’s body shake. “Yeah, nigga…take this pussy…fuck it wit’ that fat-ass dick…” I’m nuttin’ but it ain’t bringin’ down the walls. I close my eyes, replay beatin’ that bitch’s ass earlier, keep rewindin’ her whole grill splittin’ open. I start buckin’ my hips, throwin’ the ass up on the dick.

“Oh, fuck…aaaaah, shit…you not gonna let me hit this pussy again, ma?”

I grunt. “No, muhfucka…” My nut is swellin’; my walls are shakin’. This nigga’s dick is stretchin’ me, but it ain’t guttin’ me. I squeeze my eyes tight. Blood splatters. “…uhhhhh…”

My pussy rapidly milks his dick.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah…just like that…squeeze that dick…aaahhh shit, ma…can I get some more’a this good shit, ma? I wanna keep hittin’ this wet pussy…”

More blood splatters.

I’m on the verge of crashin’ waves of creamy pussy juice. I urge the nigga to hit it harder; to dig it out faster. I’m almost there. I slide my hand between my legs, take two fingas and work my clit. More blood splatters. “Uhhhh…fuuuucccck me…”

“Can I keep hittin’ this pussy, ma?”

“Uhhh…nooooo, nigga…aaaah…”

“Let me keep hittin’ this, ma…”

“Uhhhhh…Shut da fuck up and fuuuuuuuck meeeee, muhhhhhfucka…”

He starts slappin’ my ass. I block out his grunts and groans. Concentrate on my fist connectin’ to that bitch’s face. More blood splatters. But it’s not enough to spin’a bitch into a seizure. I need more.

“Bang it harder, muhfucka…is that all you got? What, you scared of da pussy, nigga?”

He grabs me by the waist, rapidly slams himself in ’n outta me.

“Oh, you wanna talk shit, ma? You want a muhfucka to beat ya guts in?”

I’m clutchin’ the sheets. My eyes are shut tight. I have a 9mm wit’ a silencer in my hand. I buck my hips. Moan. “Uhhhhhh… ohhhhh, shiiiiiit…”

I slam my chrome into that booga bear’s grill, knockin’ her fronts out. More blood splatters. I let out another loud moan.

“Ohhhh, shit, ma, your pussy is soooooo fuckin’ wet…Goddaaaaamn…”

“Fucccccck me…fuuuuuccccck me…” I chant, wildly windin’ my hips ’n bangin’ my ass back up on the dick. I raise my gun. “Uhhhhhh…oohhhhh, yesssssss…”

I pull the trigger.

“Yesssssssssssssss….”

I pull the trigger, again.

My pussy muscles squeeze this nigga’s dick in sync to me dumpin’ my clip into her dome.

Gotta nigga wantin’ to stroke me wit’ his dick…wantin’ to feel this pussy heat on his face…beggin’ me to drop down on them lips…roll my hips…squeeze his head wit’ my thighs… nigga wantin’ me to nut in his mouth…yeah, muhfucka… let’a bitch coat ya tongue wit’ dis waterfall…open wide, muhfucka…close ya eyes…here comes ya surprise…

My ringin’ cell wakes a bitch up outta a deep-ass sleep. I peep the screen, shakin’ my head. The word Nut lights up on the screen. It’s my nickname for this nigga Alley Cat I met a while back. “Yeah, whaaaat?” I answer wit’ ’tude, glancin’ at the clock over on the nightstand. It’s eleven o’clock in the mornin’ I stretch. Can’t believe I’ve slept most of the day away.

“Yo, wassup, ma? How you?”

“Aggravated that you still callin’ me. How can I help you?”

He laughs. “Yeah, aiiight. Front if you want, but check this out, beautiful. I’ma keep callin’ ya sexy ass ’til you stop playin’ games wit’ a muhfucka.”

“Who said I’m playin’ wit’ you?”

“Nah, ma, I ain’t say nuthin’ ’bout you playin’ wit’ me. I said you playin’ games, big difference. If you were playin’ wit’ me ya hands ’n mouth would be full wit’ a buncha dick, feel me?”

“No, I ain’t feelin’ you,” I state, sittin’ up.

“Not yet, you ain’t. But you will be; real talk.”

This cocky muhfucka makes me sick . I hold back a grin, though. No matter how much ’tude I serve this nigga, he stay tryna fuck me. That’s the problem. This muhfucka ain’t used to a bitch turnin’ his ass down. He’s the kinda nigga used to bitches droppin’ they drawers whenever he wants. Well, he might be lookin’ for a fast piece’a ass, but the nigga ain’t gonna get it here unless it’s on my terms. Hmmph. If you ask me, I think the nigga’s borderline crazy. ’Cause if a bitch was always comin’ at me sideways ’n all reckless and whatnot I’d be tellin’ that ho to eat shit, then be out.

But this nigga right here won’t let up. Even when the nigga stood in front of me and blocked my way in the mall down in Phoenix, I thought he was a damn nut. Fine, yes. But, a damn problem, for sure! On some real shit, I wasn’t gonna give the nigga the time’a day if Chanel’s dumb ass wasn’t all up in the mix eggin’ me to give the nigga sum air play.

Earlier that day, he was tryna holla as me and Chanel were walkin’ outta the hotel we were stayin’ in. But we paid the nigga dust. Most niggas just leave it alone, but this muhfucka got up and came up on us like he was really pressed tryna push the issue. Chanel’s simple-ass entertained ’im, but I kept it movin’. See, I had already peeped the nigga the day before at the All-Star Jam Session chillin’ wit’ a buncha niggas.

Then I saw ’im later on that night down in the lobby. And, yes, the nigga was fuckable. And, yes, the nigga was dipped ’n blingin’. But he was sooooo fuckin’ arrogant, too! I knew the minute he opened his mouth that he was used to bitches sweatin’ his ass and droppin’ down ’n wettin’ his dick up at his beck ’n call. And I know it fucks wit’ ’im that I ain’t that kinda chick.

I ain’t gonna front. When the nigga walked up on me and Chanel at the mall, I tried to act like I wasn’t beat, but the muhfucka had this kinda confidence that was mad sexy; still, a bitch knows when a muhfucka ain’t up to no good. And my gut told me that this nigga right here, mmmph…is a walkin’ magnet for drama. But when he stepped up in my space, I kept it cute and gave ’im some rhythm—just a taste, for a hot minute. I had’a laugh when he said I was actin’ like he was the muhfucka who had broke my heart. But I quickly checked his ass and let ’im know I ain’t the one to let a nigga break shit on me. Little did he know, a bitch was still mournin’ the loss of good dick. Shit, I went from gettin’ this pussy beat up on’a regular to not gettin’ it at all. It had been a minute since I was gettin’ served by some dick that wasn’t attached to a bullet. Then just like that, it was over. So, my ’tude had nuthin’ to do wit’ bein’ evil. It was ’bout a bitch grievin’ ’n needin’ a good dickin’.

Annnywaaaayz, for the last year or so, the nigga’s been hittin’ me up on some let’s chill-type shit, and I still ain’t rocked wit’ ’em. And he still ain’t lettin’ it go. The shit cracks me up.

“ Whaaa teva,” I tell ’im, gettin’ outta bed. My stomach starts growlin’, remindin’ me that the only thing I had today was that damn blunt. Ohmigod, a bitch could eat three dicks and still have room for a nut or two. That’s how hungry I am.

I go downstairs to fix sumthin’ to eat. “What, you bored? None’a ya lil’ hoes ’round for you to play wit’?” I ask, openin’ up the ’fridge. I pull out the carton of eggs, some cheddar cheese, and a green pepper. I decide to fix an omelet.