“You ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ but a word, ma. I got you. I know how’ta make love when it calls for it.”
“Oh, really? And when does it call for it?”
“When a chick is worthy of bein’ treated respectfully. When she ain’t beat to know how much dick a nigga’s got hangin’ between his legs. Or bein’ preoccupied wit’ the size of a muhfucka’s feet, or what kinda whip he’s pushin’.”
Now I ain’t gonna front, a bitch was w
onderin’ how many inches this black muhfucka was holdin’. Shit, I already done seen da nigga’ dick print, so I already know what it is. But I’m damn sure not preoccupied ova it. And a bitch definitely ain’t gonna ask ’bout it. I’ll leave that shit for them thirsty-ass cluckers he got on his team. Bird-ass hoes. I’ll find out what’s really good wit’ da nigga’s dick if and when I decide to rock his top. In da mean time, a bitch’s gonna keep it cute, and stay on mute.
I take the spatula and fold my omelet. My stomach growls louder. When my food is finally done, I slide it onto my plate, then sit down at the table.
“Yo what you eatin’?”
“An omelet.”
“Oh, you cook? That’s wassup.”
“Yeah, I can do a lil’ sumthin’. But that’s not a bitch’s purpose in life.”
“So you sayin’ I can’t get my grub on?”
“Not if you lookn’ for me to cook. My name ain’t Aunt Jemima. And I ain’t ya mama. So, hell no, muhfucka.”
He laughs. “Yeah, aiight. I see you like talkin’ real reckless.”
“And I can back it up, muhfucka, trust.”
“We’ll see. Like I said, you talk a lotta shit.”
“Whaaaat eva. Take it, or leave it.”
“Yeah, aiight, yo. I hear you. Right now, I’m tryna take it.”
“So you be fuckin’ a buncha birds?” I decide to ask, nixin’ his last comment. Not that I really care ’cause I already know what it is. Still the nigga has piqued my curiosity.
“On occasion,” he says. “And them the ones I fuck. And use this big-ass dick as a weapon of destruction to slaughter the hell outta the pussy.”
I roll my eyes up in my head. “Whateva nigga. Ya dick game probably whack as hell.” I tease, gettin’ up to put my plate in the sink. He laughs. I open the ’fridge and grab a bottle of Dasani water, then open it and start guzzlin’ it down. “You probably one’a them quick nut type muhfuckas.”
It’s time for another blunt, I think as I go back upstairs. This time I grab the haze and roll two fatties.
“Yeah, you think that shit if ya want,” he says, laughin’. “But I can show ya better than I can tell ya, ma. I ain’t that dude who be runnin’ his mouth ’bout what he can do to da pussy, then don’t deliver. They don’t call me Daddy Long Stroke for nuthin’. Believe that, ma.”
I suck my teeth, walkin over and sittin’ on the bed. I spark the blunt, crossin’ my legs. “Whaaat eva. You too damn stuck on ya’self.” I take a deep pull.
“Nah, baby…I’m tryna be stuck on you.”
“Muhfucka, what I tell you ’bout callin’ me ya damn baby. Ya ass is fuckin’ hardheaded. I bet you used to get ya ass beat a lot growin’ up.”
“Nah, never that,” he says, laughin’. “I got my ass beat once. That’s it. Other than that, the only thing that was gettin’ beat was this dick.”
“Hmmph,” I grunt, blowin’ out smoke.
“Yo, you blazin’?”
“Yeah, muhfucka, why?”
He laughs. “Daaaaaamn, I’m in love. You mad sexy, mean as fuck, and you burn. And you get my dick hard e’erytime you call me muhfucka. Where you been hidin’ all my life?”