Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang Page 5

  “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.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  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.

  “Nah, beautiful, never that. I can always find me a broad to get at. But, that’s not what I want.”

  I pull out a skillet. “Oh, really? So, what you want?”

  “Yo, I’ma keep it gee wit’ you, aiight?”

  “Oh, please do.”

  “I want some pussy, straight up. And I wanna fuck.”

  I laugh, choppin’ the green pepper, then peelin’ an onion. “Nigga you talkin’ like ya nasty ass ain’t already gettin’ it in. I know betta.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, my dick stays wet. But I’m tryna get up in some new pussy.”

  “Nigga you ain’t even smooth wit’ ya shit. You straight raw wit’ it. No kinda finesse. Ain’t no classy bitch feelin’ that. Save that shit for them boogas.”

  He laughs. “Check this shit out, ma. I’ma grown-ass man. I ain’t got time to be bullshittin’ on da pussy.”

  “Well, that shit might work wit’ them bottom of the barrel bitches, but it ain’t workin’ for me.”

  He keeps laughin’. “Bottom of da barrel, top of da barrel, it don’t matter. As long as da pussy’s bangin’ ’n I can fuck ’em over da barrel, it’s all gravy.”

  I shred my cheese. “Well, I ain’t lookin’ to fuck.” I crack two eggs. Then beat all the ingredients while the pan heats up. Then I pour e’erything in.

  “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?”

  I suck my teeth. “Annnnywayz, why you keep callin’ me?”

  “’Cause I dig you.”

  “Nigga, you don’t even know me.”

  “Yeah ’cause you won’t let a muhfucka in. You keep frontin’ ’n shit. I been tryna holla at you for over a year now—”

  “Try almost two,” I correct, cuttin’ him off.

  “Well, shit, that makes it even worse. And you still ain’t tryna give a muhfucka no play. Wassup wit’ that?”

  I take another pull. “’Cause I’m chillin’. Doin’ me. And I ain’t beat for no drama, or no extra shit from a nigga. And you look like you that nigga wit’ a side dish of both. No, thank you. Been there, done that. And I ain’t tryna catch’a case.”

  “Oh, word? Well, I don’t know what kinda case you might catch. But if you’d stop frontin’ I’ll give ya fine ass a case of some good dick.”

  This muthafucka! I pull at my nipples. A bitch is mad horny. This nigga gotta sexy ass voice. And he’s nasty as fuck, but I gotta keep remindin’ myself that the muhfucka’s trouble. I know this nigga’s kind. I get up. Stare at my body in the mirror, turnin’ from one side to the other, admirin’ my bangin’ shape. I tighten and un-tighten my ass muscles and watch my ass cheeks pop.

  “Nigga, what makes you think you can come at me all sideways ’n shit?”

  “Yo, don’t think I forgot that shit you told me in the mall that day. I kept that shit tucked. Now I wanna see you deliver.”

  “Well, don’t hold ya breath,” I say, shakin’ my head, rememberin’ exactly what I said to him when I stepped up in his space and whispered in his ear. “…I bet you a sucka for good pussy, and a bitch who can suck down ya dick and lap at ya balls, too…well, guess what, muhfucka? I’m that bitch, be clear. Fine, fly, fabulous and freaky wit’ a pussy ’n throat game so ill it’ll make a nigga sick…” And, the minute I stepped back from him, I peeped the nigga’s dick stretchin’ down his leg. And his nasty ass didn’t even try ’n play it off.

  “So why you keep answerin’ when I call?”

  I smile, sittin’ at the foot of my bed. I spread open my legs. Lean back on my forearm, then use my free hand to lightly pat my pussy. ’Cause ya sexy, bow-legged ass is thuggish and fine as hell and I might wanna fuck you, I think. Of course I ain’t gonna gas this nigga up. “’Cause you amuse me,” I say, laughin’.

  “Yeah, aiight. Go ’head wit’ that dumb shit. I know better. Keep shit real, you wanna taste this chocolate, don’t you? It’s all good. Just say the word, and I’ma serve ya sexy ass all the chocolate you desire. Daddy got enough to satisfy all of ya cravin’s.”

  I suck my teeth. “Next. Nigga, puhleeze. Save that daddy shit for them birds you got cluckin’ behind you.”

  “Yeah, aiight. I’ma have you cluckin’ in a minute.”

  I bust out laughin’. “Oh, neeeeegro, you gotta bitch confused; never that. I’d put a bullet in ya skull, first, before you ever pluck a feather outta me. Trust.”

  He starts crackin’ up. “Yo, ma, you funny as hell, word up. You must gotta thing for guns.”

  I walk over to my nightstand and open the bottom drawer. I pull out my nickel-plated Colt Python. It’s a .357 Magnum wit’ the six-inch barrel and nickel finish. It’s known for its smooth trigger pull and tight cylinder lock-up. The shit is mad sexy. They stopped makin’ ’em in ’96, but I was able to cop mine from this white muhfucka who had a ’05 special order edition. I slip the barrel between my legs, then slide it over my tight slit. There’s sumthin’ ’bout holdin’ a gun that makes a bitch’s pussy come alive.

  “Yeah, sumthin’ like that,” I tell ’im, layin’ back on my bed. I lay the gun on my chest. “How many bitches you guttin’?”

  “A few.”

  “I bet you’ll fuck anything movin’.”

  He laughs. “Not wit’ the lights on.”

  “Just what I thought. You fuck them crusty-feet, booga-bear hoes wit’ the ashy ankles and chipped toenails, don’t you?”

  He laughs harder. “Yo, you funny as hell.”

  “Funny hell. I’m straight-lacin’. You real nasty wit’ yours, nigga, ain’t you? A bitch like me can’t fuck wit’ a nigga who’s guttin’ up a buncha hood crittas.”

  “Nah, ma, you got me all fucked up,” he says, tryna sound serious. “I’ma keep shit a hunnid, though. Yeah, I’ve fucked a few gorilla-faced bitches in my day. And most of ’em had some good-ass pussy. They were the type to let a muhfucka get it in almost anyway he wanted. From garglin’ my balls to lickin’ the shit outta my ass, most of them hoes aim to please. But good pussy or not, I fucked ’em from the back and wit’ the room pitch black.”

  I start laughin’. “Ohmigod, nigga, you comical as hell. So what makes you think a bitch like me would wanna fuck wit’ a nigga like you?”

>   “’Cause I’m e’erything ya body needs. And e’erything you crave.”

  “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”

  “A nigga wit’ a strong back, strong hands, long dick and a long, wet tongue.”

  I pinch my left nipple. I decide to fuck wit’ ’im. “You eat pussy?”

  “Hell yeah, I eat pussy. Eat ass, too. I like it all. Besides beatin’ up the guts, pussy eatin’ is my thing.”

  “You suckin’ dick, too?”

  “Say what?”

  “You heard me, nigga. I asked if you takin’ dick? You said you liked it all.”

  “Hell fuckin’ no! I ain’t that kinda muhfucka. I’m a pussy-lovin’ nigga. I like it all attached to a real woman, wit’ titties, ass ’n good, wet pussy. A muhfucka come at me on some sideways shit, and that’s grounds to get ya neck snapped, for real for real.”

  “Yeah, right. You probably one’a them DL, homo-thug muhfuckas,” I say, laughin’. “If you take it in the ass ’n throat, it’s all gravy, Miss Hunnneeeee. We can swap stories.”

  He laughs. “Yo, word up, ma. You funny bad. I’m all man, baby.”

  I grin. “Ohhhhkaaaay, if you say so.”

  “Nah, I know so. Don’t get shit twisted. But you can think what you want, feel me?”

  “Let me stop fuckin’ wit’ 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.”