My cell rings. I shake my head, glancin’ at the screen. It’s Candy; another one of them chunky-monkey bitches. She’s one of those tight-pussied chicks who borders between ugly and beasty, dependin’ on how the light shines on her. Her long, fake eyelashes and wide, pudgy nose makes her look like a chocolate Miss Piggy. Actually, the bitch kinda reminds me of a much thicker and wider version of that funny-lookn’ chick, Tiffany sumthin’. You know, the one who played New York on that busted-ass reality show,
“Yo, what’s good?”
“Hey, baby. You know it’s almost that time, so what you want for your birthday?” she asks.
“My birthday?”
“Yeah, fool. Isn’t your birthday on the eighteenth of next month?”
“Right, right,” I say, chucklin’. “I got so much shit on my mind I almost forgot.”
She laughs. “You need to lay off the trees, baby. They got you forgetting your own birthday.”
“Well, you know I ’preciate you always rememberin’. I can always count on you to come through to make a muhfucka like me feel special. That means a lot.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet.”
“Not as sweet as you and that tight pussy,” I tell her. Yeah, it’s a small lie, but it makes her feel good, and gets me what I want. “You need to let me come through so I can stretch that shit out for ya, now.”
She laughs. “You stay tryna fuck somebody.”
“And?”
“And, nothing; I’m just saying.”
“Well, what you sayin’? Can I beat that shit up, or what?”
“Yeah…”
“Oh, aiight. That’s wassup. Tonight?”
“No,” she says, suckin’ her teeth, “on ya birthday when I see you, like we always do.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know. You can’t knock a nigga for tryna get some pre-birthday sex.”
She laughs. “Whatever. I know you got enough bitches keeping your dick wet the rest of the year. But as long as I’m the one fucking that big-ass dick on ya birthday, it’s all good.”
I laugh wit’ her. “I feel you, baby. Yo, you votin’?
“Are you kidding? Hell yeah, I’m voting. I’ma be at the polls bright and early. Me, my mother, grandmother and three sisters.”
“Oh, aiight. That’s wassup. ’Cause if you weren’t, I was gonna haveta cancel this dick on you.”
She laughs again. “Well, that’s not about to happen, so I’ll see you on ya birthday.”
“No doubt,” I tell her, hangin’ up.
I’m layin’ ’cross my bed playin’ wit’ my dick. A nigga’s in the mood for some hot, nasty phone sex. But I don’t really have anyone I can hit up ’cause most of these bitches wanna fuck after ’bout a minute of me talkin’ this good shit to ’em. And all I wanna do is beat my dick, bust this nut and chill today. I grab the baby oil, wet my dick up wit’ it, then close my eyes. I long stroke it, usin’ my other hand to grab my balls, creatin’ a scenario of voices in my head.
