you.”
“It’s all good.”
“So, what’s that tongue game like?”
He laughs. “Oh, so now you wanna know how a muhfucka wets the pussy.”
“Yup. Tell me how you get down on the pussy to make it pop. Entice me, muhfucka.” I pinch both my nipples, then slide my left hand between my legs, while slippin’ the tip of my Colt in my mouth wit’ my other hand. I slowly suck on the barrel as he speaks.
“First, I’d kiss on the pussy. From soft, gentle kisses to deep, tongue-probin’ French-kissin’, I love havin’ my tongue and lips all up on it, and in it. Next, I’ll lay my tongue flat up against it, then flap it up and down, draggin’ it along the front and back of ya slit. I’ll use my mouth and tongue to stimulate all the sensitive areas of ya pussy and clit, circlin’ my tongue all over and ’round it. Suckin’ on the sweet pussy lips. See. I listen to what makes a broad moan, and know when to change it up to give her that ultimate tongue experience. Now ya turn.”
“ My turn? My turn for what? I don’t eat pussy, nigga.”
He laughs. “Damn, that’s too bad. But I wasn’t talkin’ bout that. You throatin’?”
“Nope,” I lie, then bust out laughin’. “Yeah, nigga, I suck dick. Who ain’t wettin’ dick in two-thousand-and-ten? And I’ll eat the nut outta it, too, if it’s a nigga I’m dealin’ wit’. Any bitch who ain’t suckin’ dick ain’t keepin’ no man. Not for long, anyway. A bitch can definitely bubble up if her throat game is right, believe that. Have a nigga sellin’ his moms ’n shit for another round of that bobble action.”
“Oh, shit,” he says, laughin’. “I like how you kickin’ that shit. That’s what it is. So, when we gonna get each other off?”
“Sorry to pop ya bubble,” I say, flippin’ the script on his ass. “But this pussy ain’t on the market. And trust me, nigga, you ain’t even gonna sniff my shit ’til you take a bitch out and start spendin’ sum’a that paper ya slick-ass collectin’.”
He cracks up. “Yo, ma. You think you got’a muhfucka all pegged, don’t you?”
“I told you, I know ya kind. And you the type to have a buncha dizzy bitches lacin’ ya ass. Now tell me I’m dead-ass and I’ll let you skull-fuck me right now. And don’t try ’n clown. Keep that shit live.”
“You know what,” he says, chucklin’. “You gotta lotta shit wit’ you, real talk. But I dig it.”
“And you still ain’t answer the question,” I say, laughin’.
“Where you at right now?”
“Yeah, that’s right change the subject, muhfucka.”
He chuckles. “Nah, I wanna know where you at.”
“Why?”
“Maybe a muhfucka’s tryna see you,” he says, dippin’ his voice real low ’n sexy.
“Nigga, puhleeze. You tryna stalk a bitch. That’s all that is.”
He laughs. “Negative. Never that, baby.”
“See, there you go wit’ that baby shit again.
“My bad, ma. I can’t help myself. I wanna make you my baby.”
I grunt. Ugh, gag me.”
“I wanna do that, too,” he says, laughin’.
I suck my teeth. “Nigga, puhleeze.”
“So, you gonna tell me where you at, or what?” Why I tell ’em is beyond me. But I do. “Oh, word? That’s wassup. So am I. What part?”
“Sausalito,” I tell ’im, then ask ’im where in Cali he’s at. He says LA. Then I ask ’im what he’s doin’ there and he tells me he’schillin’ wit’ his peeps. I laugh. “Unh-huh. I bet. Ya’ll fuckin’ and she’s lacin’ you, right?” He laughs. “Just what I thought.”
“So where’s Salsa-lito at?”
“It’s Sau-sa-lee-toe. And it’s in the San Francisco area, right on the other side’a the bridge, why? You tryna take a road trip?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Impress me, punk,” I tease.
“Yeah, I got ya punk aiight. Yo, you need to stop frontin’ and let a muhfucka really get to know you.”
Another call beeps through. It’s Chanel’s ass again. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But for
“It’s all good.”
“So, what’s that tongue game like?”
He laughs. “Oh, so now you wanna know how a muhfucka wets the pussy.”
“Yup. Tell me how you get down on the pussy to make it pop. Entice me, muhfucka.” I pinch both my nipples, then slide my left hand between my legs, while slippin’ the tip of my Colt in my mouth wit’ my other hand. I slowly suck on the barrel as he speaks.
“First, I’d kiss on the pussy. From soft, gentle kisses to deep, tongue-probin’ French-kissin’, I love havin’ my tongue and lips all up on it, and in it. Next, I’ll lay my tongue flat up against it, then flap it up and down, draggin’ it along the front and back of ya slit. I’ll use my mouth and tongue to stimulate all the sensitive areas of ya pussy and clit, circlin’ my tongue all over and ’round it. Suckin’ on the sweet pussy lips. See. I listen to what makes a broad moan, and know when to change it up to give her that ultimate tongue experience. Now ya turn.”
“ My turn? My turn for what? I don’t eat pussy, nigga.”
He laughs. “Damn, that’s too bad. But I wasn’t talkin’ bout that. You throatin’?”
“Nope,” I lie, then bust out laughin’. “Yeah, nigga, I suck dick. Who ain’t wettin’ dick in two-thousand-and-ten? And I’ll eat the nut outta it, too, if it’s a nigga I’m dealin’ wit’. Any bitch who ain’t suckin’ dick ain’t keepin’ no man. Not for long, anyway. A bitch can definitely bubble up if her throat game is right, believe that. Have a nigga sellin’ his moms ’n shit for another round of that bobble action.”
“Oh, shit,” he says, laughin’. “I like how you kickin’ that shit. That’s what it is. So, when we gonna get each other off?”
“Sorry to pop ya bubble,” I say, flippin’ the script on his ass. “But this pussy ain’t on the market. And trust me, nigga, you ain’t even gonna sniff my shit ’til you take a bitch out and start spendin’ sum’a that paper ya slick-ass collectin’.”
He cracks up. “Yo, ma. You think you got’a muhfucka all pegged, don’t you?”
“I told you, I know ya kind. And you the type to have a buncha dizzy bitches lacin’ ya ass. Now tell me I’m dead-ass and I’ll let you skull-fuck me right now. And don’t try ’n clown. Keep that shit live.”
“You know what,” he says, chucklin’. “You gotta lotta shit wit’ you, real talk. But I dig it.”
“And you still ain’t answer the question,” I say, laughin’.
“Where you at right now?”
“Yeah, that’s right change the subject, muhfucka.”
He chuckles. “Nah, I wanna know where you at.”
“Why?”
“Maybe a muhfucka’s tryna see you,” he says, dippin’ his voice real low ’n sexy.
“Nigga, puhleeze. You tryna stalk a bitch. That’s all that is.”
He laughs. “Negative. Never that, baby.”
“See, there you go wit’ that baby shit again.
“My bad, ma. I can’t help myself. I wanna make you my baby.”
I grunt. Ugh, gag me.”
“I wanna do that, too,” he says, laughin’.
I suck my teeth. “Nigga, puhleeze.”
“So, you gonna tell me where you at, or what?” Why I tell ’em is beyond me. But I do. “Oh, word? That’s wassup. So am I. What part?”
“Sausalito,” I tell ’im, then ask ’im where in Cali he’s at. He says LA. Then I ask ’im what he’s doin’ there and he tells me he’schillin’ wit’ his peeps. I laugh. “Unh-huh. I bet. Ya’ll fuckin’ and she’s lacin’ you, right?” He laughs. “Just what I thought.”
“So where’s Salsa-lito at?”
“It’s Sau-sa-lee-toe. And it’s in the San Francisco area, right on the other side’a the bridge, why? You tryna take a road trip?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Impress me, punk,” I tease.
“Yeah, I got ya punk aiight. Yo, you need to stop frontin’ and let a muhfucka really get to know you.”
Another call beeps through. It’s Chanel’s ass again. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But for
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