Free Daddy Long Stroke by Cairo

I’m all woman.”
    â€œOh, aiight then. I was ’bout to say. Fuck ’round and have me catcha case. As long as you were born wit’ a
real
pussy and some
real
titties, it’s all good.”
    â€œI promise you, I was born female.”
    â€œThen we cool. Just make sure you got ya fine ass at the airport to pick me up.”
    â€œI will.” We bullshit for a few extra minutes, then hang up. I let out a loud-ass yawn, then close my eyes, thinkin’ ’bout all that juicy Georgia Peach ass I’ma get up in while I’m down there. I think ’bout callin’ Keisha to come through and suck on this dick, but decide to jerk my shit instead. Yeah, I know I just finished fuckin’ a few hours ago. And? Fuck what ya heard. A muhfucka likes to beat his shit, too, which is what I contribute my great dick and nut control to. Some days when I’m jackin’ off I wanna slow-bleed this nut, which is where I’m jerkin’ my dick, then I stop strokin’ it, and just let my nut flow out by itself. Other times, I wanna gusher-type nut where I keep beatin’ my dick ’til I’m ’bout to nut, then stop, let my nut roll back down into my balls, then start beatin’ my dick again. I keep doin’ it over and over again, bringin’ me closer and closer to the edge. Then when I’m finally ready to bust, I pump my dick hard and fast and let my nut fly out all over the place. Whew! That shit be good as hell, word up. Some niggas think jackin’ off when you got a steady flow of pussy is whack, but them dumb-ass muhfuckas got it twisted. Beatin’ ya dick can teach you a lot ’bout ya body.
    And ’cause of all my years of beatin’ this dick, a muhfucka can fuck for almost two hours straight before bustin’ a nut if I want.But that usually depends on how good the pussy or head is, and the type of ho servin’ it up. If she’s broke, she could end up gettin’ slayed wit’ three to thirty minutes’ worth of dick. But, if she’s a ho lacin’ a nigga and handlin’ a muhfucka real proper, then I’ma most likely run an all-nighter on her.
    Anyway, today, I’ma make this a quick nut. I glance at the clock: 1:47 P.M. I grab the baby oil offa the nightstand, then let it do what it do. Ten minutes later, I spit this nut, then roll over and fall off to sleep, ’cause a nigga’s beat.

 7 
    It’s almost seven-thirty in the evenin’. I decide to swing past my moms to see how she’s doin’ ’n shit since I’ma be outta town for a minute. Besides, I haven’t seen her in a week or so. The minute my phone rings, I suck my teeth. Tamera’s blowin’ the shit up, again. I ignore the bitch. Now she’s textin’ me. And a nigga like me ain’t beat for this textin’ bullshit. I read the message:
Nigga, that’s real fucked up how you locked my motherfucking keys in my car. And now your black ass avoiding my goddamn calls. But it’s all good, nigga.
I delete the shit. Dumb bitch!
    â€œI don’t believe this shit,” I say, shocked to see my pops’ car up in my moms’ driveway as I pull up alongside the front of her spot, then park. From where I’m sitttin’, it looks dark as hell up in that piece. Not one damn light is on.
What the fuck is he doin’ over here,
I think, takin’ a hit off my Dutch.
And why the fuck are all the lights out? I know they ain’t up in there fuckin’
.
Mom can’t stand his ass.
    Okay, on some real shit. I was kinda fucked up for a minute when Moms and Pops split up. I mean, I was like one of the few cats on my block who had both parents—who worked—under the same roof, feel me? Even if they hardly spoke, unless it was to yell or scream at the other; even if they were both fuckin’ on the side—they were still together. And we were a family. You dig what I’m