Daddy Long Stroke Read Free Page A

think, headin’ back up the stairs to slip on some sweats and a T-shirt.
What if she woulda started bustin’ shit up in here? How the fuck would you ’splain that?
    I take the steps two at a time, goin’ upstairs to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and tongue, starin’ into the mirror. Even after I’ve scrubbed my gums ’n shit, I still taste her rotten ass in my mouth. I brush my tongue again, then rinse my mouth out wit’ Listerine.
Fuck that nasty, skank-ass bitch
, I think, shakin’ my head. I rinse my mouth, again, then shut off the lights.
She mad ’cause I tossed her ho-ass out wit’ a throbbin’ pussy, and gypped her outta a nut.
I grab my cell, then redial Carla’s number as I’m headin’ back down the stairs to let her know I’m on my way. Of course she wants me to eat her pussy. Fuck outta here. I let the bitch know that’s not ’bout to happen, not tonight. Especially not after the shit that just went down with Shakeeta’s triflin’ ass.
    She sucks her teeth. “Are you gonna at least stay the night?”
    I think for a minute. I got a lotta shit to do early tomorrow so this bird is gonna haveta settle for a drive-by. “Nah,” I tell her. “I got shit to do in the mornin’, but I can swing back through later on to hit you up wit’ a dose of this heavy dick, aiight?”
    Silence. The bitch knows if she doesn’t wet this dick tonight it’s a wrap. I’m cuttin’ her supply off. And I know like she does, that’s the last thing she wants. “When you leaving?”
    I laugh to myself. “Now. So have them dick suckas wet ’n ready.”
    Two hours later, I’m back home, steppin’ outta the shower. I’m refreshed, relaxed, and ready to take it down for the night when my cell rings. I glance at the screen. It’s this broad I’m ’posed to get up wit’ tomorrow. I met her up on BlackPlanet, another spot where I meet most of these broads I’m smashin’. She had hit my Daddy Long Stroke page up a few months back after peepin’ my body flicks on it. Then she started visitin’ my page e’ery damn day, leavin’ me comments on my guestbook, and hittin’ me with notes, and gifts ’n shit—like all the other broads I meet on there. Word up, it be live and poppin’ on that site. Alotta them Black-Planet hoes be some real thirsty asses. Fuck what ya heard. The economy may be all fucked up, but trust and believe, there’s a surplus of pussy out here, and a nigga wit’ a good stroke game will never go broke.
    I look over at the digital clock. It’s 1:22 A.M.
What the fuck she want this time of night?
I think, pressin’ the Talk button. “Yo,” I say into the phone.
    â€œYou still coming up here tomorrow?” she asks.
    â€œWe still fuckin’, right?”
    She sucks her teeth. “Is that the only thing you interested in?”
    â€œHell yeah. You gotta problem wit’ that?”
    â€œWell,” she says, pausin’, “I was hopin’ we could grab a bite to eat, then maybe catch a movie or something, first.”
    I frown. For the last few weeks, fuckin’ is
all
we been talkin’ ’bout. Now all of a sudden this ho wanna be on some let’s-grab-a-bite-to-eat bull, like she tryna go out on a muthafuckin’ date. Fuck outta here! I think,
do I tell this ho what she wants to hear, or do I keep shit real?
I decide to give it to her straight, no chaser.“I’m tryna get this dick wet, baby. That’s it. You can save the extras for some other cat.”
    Silence.
    â€œYo, you still there?”
    â€œYeah,” she says, soundin’ annoyed. “I’m still here.”
    I feel myself ’bout to spaze out on her dizzy ass for callin’ here this time of night wit’ this stupid shit. I take a deep breath, spark up the half-smoked blunt