Daddy Long Stroke Read online

  “Damn, you got some good nut,” she says, lickin’ her lips again. “I ain’t never sucked a nigga whose cum was as thick and sweet as yours.”

  Then why the fuck you waste all my shit, bitch? I glance over at her clock again: 1:36 A.M. Shit! “And you never will, baby. Believe that. Now where’s ya peoples at?”

  She gets up offa her knees. Goes over to get her phone, and calls the bitch back. There’s no answer. It figures. Bitches ain’t really ’bout it. “I don’t know where she is. She shoulda been here by now. Forget her. After sucking your dick, you got me so fucking horny. I think I’m ready to take that dick myself.” This lyin’ bitch! I roll my eyes up in my head. Just a few minutes ago the bitch was actin’ like she was scared of the shit; now she tryna play super ho talkin’ ’bout she ready to handle this dick. I laugh at her ass. “Why you laughing?”

  “’Cause I wanna fuck, and I ain’t got time playin’ games wit’ you. Either you gonna let me stroke ya insides or you not. But, I ain’t beat for no bullshit. So, what’s good? We fuckin’ or not?”

  She nods her head. “All night if you want. Just go slow until I can get used to it.” She climbs up on the bed, arches her back, then pulls open her ass cheeks. ’Bout muthafukin’ time! “Just don’t knock my uterus off the hinges.”

  I lean down and start lickin’ the back of her pussy, dartin’ my tongue in and outta her to relax her. She wiggles her ass, lets out a soft moan. Damn, she got some sweet-tastin’ pussy. Tastes like duck sauce. I eat that shit up, gobble the back of it for a few minutes, forgettin’ ’bout the jungle of hair that’s wet and plastered ’round the back of her pussy, then straighten my body. “Now, you ready,” I say, pressin’ down on the small of her back, then pushin’ the head of my dick in. “And when I’m finished wit’ you, baby, you ain’t ever gonna wanna fuck with another lil’-dick nigga again.” She moans. And inch by inch, I slowly feed her pussy wit’ my cock ’til I have it all in. I slap her on the ass. Keep strokin’ her pussy hole, slow. Deep grind into that shit, grabbin’ her by the hips and slayin’ her. The bitch starts to stutter, then holler, and scream, and beg for me to stop one minute; then the next minute she wants me to keep fuckin’ her. I wish this confused bitch make up her mind, I think, windin’ my hips up into her.

  “What’s my name?”

  “Uh…uh…Alley Cat…”

  I ram her deep, slappin’ her ass. She screams like she’s bein’ slaughtered. “No, bitch, what’s my muthafuckin’ name?”

  “Uh…aaaaaah…ohsweetmercifulGaaaaaaaaaawd…aaaaaaaaah…”

  I quicken my thrusts.

  She’s clutchin’ and clawin’ at the sheets. “Uh…uh…uh… Daaaaaaady…Loooooong…Strooooooooooke,” she groans.

  “I can’t hear you,” I say, slappin’ her on the ass again. I slow my rhythm, stroke her deep, then pick up speed.

  “Daddy Looooooooong Strooooooooooke,” she repeats louder, tryna inch up from this dick. But, I got my hands locked on her shoulders, rapidly slammin’ my hips into her. “Aaaaah…aaaaaah… oooh….oooh…”

  And for another twenty-five minutes I beat her pussy the hell up for wastin’ all my muthafuckin’ time. And when I’m ready to bust, I pull out, snatch off the condom—tossin’ it next to her, then tell her to pull open her ass cheeks, aimin’ my dick straight in the center of her ass. I rapidly slap my dick on her asshole, then stroke it. “Oh, shit…I’m cummin’, baby.” I rapidly start jerkin’, then shoot my load in her crack and on her back, smear-in’ my nut all ’round her asshole. When I’m done nuttin’, she rolls over onto her back, rubbin’ her titties, tryna catch her breath. She lies there in a daze for a minute or two, then says, “OhmyGod, you got my pussy so sore, it feels like it’s on fire. But, you fucked me soooo good.”

  I smile, leanin’ over to kiss her on her cum-crusted lips. “Well, if you wanna keep gettin’ this good dick, then you gonna need to learn how to handle it. And not be wastin’ a buncha time.”

  “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 . . .”

  3

  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 t
hat. 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.”

  “Or what?”

  “Nigga, you’ll see.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, takin’ another big-ass pull to the head. Who the fuck this bitch think she is tellin’ me what the fuck I better do? Now, you already know she done fucked up, right? I pull the phone away from my ear, allow her to continue her bullshit-ass tirade. She’s talkin’ so fast that she starts to sound like one of the muthafuckin’ chipmunks. But, on some real shit, I…DON’T… GIVE. A. FUCK. I press End, then flip my phone shut. She calls back. I let it go into voicemail. And now, the bitch is gettin’ real belligerent wit’ it, callin’ back to back to back. I turn the shit off.

  When I finally get to exit 136 off the Garden State Parkway, I open my cell, turn the shit back on, then hit Akina up. She’s this half-Japanese, half-black hottie I’ve been fuckin’ for a minute. And the chick’s sittin’ on paper from money her grandparents left her when they died. Plus, her moms is a big-time criminal lawyer and her pops is a doctor, so chick wants for nuthin’, feel me? Man, listen…this bitch is fiyah, fo’ sho. And the best thing is she’s a certified ass-lickin’, ball-suckin’, cum-gulpin’ freak wit’ one of them basketball booties you can palm and smack ’round all night. She’s flat-chested as hell, but the ho gotta deep, wet pussy that slurps up the dick and gushes like a waterfall.

  “Heeey, baby,” she coos into the phone.

  “What’s good, ma?”

  “You, and all that pretty dick. When am I gonna see you? We miss you, boo.”

  “Oh, word? And who’s we?”

  “Me and this wet pussy.” She giggles. “Where you been? I called you three times yesterday.”

  I take another toke from my blunt. “I had a family emergency. Why, you need some dick?”

  “And you already know,” she says, soundin’ all sexy ’n shit. “Is everything okay with your family?”

  I sigh into the phone, frontin’ like a nigga’s all down and whatnot. “Yeah, I hope so. But, I don’t really wanna talk about it, right now.”

  “Baby, I understand. Just know I’m here for you if you need me.”

  “Thanks, I ’preciate that. Listen, I do need you to do me a favor, though.”

  “Just tell me what it is, you know I got you.”

  I grin, makin’ a left onto Raritan Avenue. “I need you to pick me up in Linden, then drop me off home.”

  “Just tell me when and where, and I’m there.” I tell her where to pick me up, and what time to be there, then hang up. Fifteen minutes later, I finish smokin’ the rest of my blunt, turnin’ up into Tamera’s apartment complex. I make sure I don’t leave anything in her shit before puttin’ her keys in the glove compartment. I get out, lockin’ the fuckin’ doors. That’s for talkin’ shit, bitch, I think, slammin’ the door shut. I walk to the corner, and ten minutes later, Akina whips around the block in her forest-green 2007 745i, lookin’ fly as hell in her fresh Versace shades.

  She unlocks the doors, and I slide in. “What’s the deal, baby girl?” I ask, closin’ the door, then leanin’ over and givin’ her some tongue action. “You ready to fuck?”

  “All damn day,” she says, runnin’ her hand along my thigh, then grabbin’ at my dick.

  “Then let’s roll,” I say, flippin’ open my cell, and callin’ Tamera’s ass back. When she picks up, I say, “Aye, yo, I parked ya shit.”

  “Where, motherfucker?”

  “In ya muthafuckin’ parkin’ lot.”

  “Well, where are my goddamn keys, nigga?”

  “I put ’em in ya glove compartment.”

  “Nigga, are you serious? Why the fuck would you leave my motherfuckin’ keys in the car, with my doors unlocked so mother-fuckers can be all up in my shit?”

  “I locked the doors, ya dumb-ass,” I snap, shuttin’ the power off, then flippin’ my phone shut. “Stupid bitch.”

  Akina glances over at me. “You aiight, baby?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I answer, adjustin’ my seat, then reclinin’ it all the way back. “But, I’ll be even better”—I unzip my pants, then fish out my Johnson—“when you get on this dick.”

  She grins, reachin’ over and grabbin’ it. She licks her lips. “Oooh, damn, daddy, it feels good in my hand.”

  “And it’s gonna feel even better in ya mouth.”

  She laughs, puttin’ her hand back on the steerin’ wheel. “You so conceited and nasty, it’s a damn shame.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I laugh, strokin’ my dick. “Yo, you had breakfast, yet?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. Why, you wanna stop and get something?’

  “Nah, I wanna bust this nut real quick
. Pull over somewhere and let me feed you ya mornin’ shake.”

  A cat like me loves gettin’ his top spun in public. It’s just sumthin’ ’bout fuckin’ and gettin’ brain when you know you might get busted. And this fine-ass broad bein’ the good little freak she is does what the fuck she’s asked, pullin’ into Aviation Plaza. She parks, shuts off the engine, leavin’ the radio on. Then she leans over and takes my chocolate pole in her tiny soft hands, unlatchin’ her jaws, then mountin’ her hot mouth over the head of my dick, glidin’ her pierced tongue all over it, slowly swallowin’ it in inch-by-inch. When she gets half of it in, she starts to gag, but stops, steadies her breathin’, then takes in more. I reach over and palm her ass, then slap it. It bounces and shakes. “Yeah, daddy gonna tear this ass up. You want daddy to beat this ass up?”

  She moans, slurpin’ and gulpin’ down this pipe, cuppin’ my balls. She pulls seven inches of my dick outta her throat, then starts jerkin’ it off while suckin’ my balls. Her nose is all up in my pubic hairs. She sniffs, sniffs again, then yanks her head up, frownin’.

  “Aye, yo, why you stop?”

  She twists her lips up and says, “It smells like pussy around your balls.”

  “Yeah, okay, and?”

  “Were you fuckin’?”

  I frown. What the fuck?! If this bitch starts that ‘I ain’t suckin’ ya dick’ shit, I’ma scream on her ass. “Yeah, earlier this mornin’. But what the fuck that got to do wit’ you handlin’ ya business, now?” I squeeze my throbbin’ dick at the base, grabbin’ her by the back of the neck and pullin’ her back down toward the mic. “You know you like pussy, so clock back in, and clean them balls up.”

  She rolls her eyes, pushin’ me offa her. “Yeah, I like pussy, nigga. But that doesn’t mean I wanna smell another bitch’s dried-up scent on your dick, and I damn sure don’t wanna have to be the one to suck it off. That’s real foul, nigga.”

  I glare at her. “So you wanna beef, or you gonna finish suckin’ this dick ’n balls? ’Cause if not, you can just drop me the fuck off at the crib, real talk.” She stares me down. I raise my brow, icegrillin’ her. My patience for bullshit is short, ’specially when it comes to me tryna get this dick wet. I’ll cut a bitch off real quick if she starts frontin’ on this dick. “Yo, real talk, ma. You wastin’ my muthafuckin’ time. So what’s it gonna be?”