A bitch has to free herself of the present in order to let go of the past…
As I’m merging onto CA-110 North, my cell rings. I glance at the screen, ready to send it straight to voicemail if it’s Felecia again, or Jasper. It’s neither. It’s Mona, Jasper’s cousin and my closest friend. In fact, she’s the reason I ended up with Jasper in the first place had she not introduced us.
Mmmph.
Twelve-and-a-half years ago. Time flies too damn fast, sometimes.
I’ll never forget that night. Friday, October 6, 2000. She had been stressing me for weeks to go to some birthday party at a nightclub for one of her relatives. But I wasn’t interested. She had this bright idea that while I was there, she’d introduce me to one of her male cousins who had recently moved to Jersey from Connecticut. “And he’s your type,” she had said.
“And what’s my type, Miss Know It All?” I had asked.
She snickered. “Dark, chiseled, and hood…and you’re exactly what he’s lookin’ for.” Then she stated he specifically requested a fine, fly bitch with a fat ass who wanted something more out of life than running the streets.
Mona and I were cordial to one another in high school, but we never really hung out. She always seemed a little strange to me back then, like withdrawn. When she went MIA in the middle of the school year for like four months, then returned the following fall, the gossip was that she got put away for trying to kill herself. Mmmph. I never asked her about it. And I never cared to know. Not even after we ended up going to the same college and sharing a dorm room together. We clicked. Then over time became very good friends. So it didn’t matter. It still doesn’t.
Anyway, Mona knew I had a weakness for hood niggas with extra swag. And Jasper was it. But what she failed to mention is that the nigga was a chronic cheater and that I would have to slash tires, fight him, and beat up a bunch of his sidepiece-hoes almost every other month.
Big dick and all, Jasper was fucking trouble from the word go. And instead of cutting him off like I did with every other nigga I had been with, I kept fucking with him until his ass had me just as dick-dumb and dizzy as the rest of them bitches he’d been fucking. But the one thing I had that none of them other bitches ever got was his love. Get a hood nigga to fall for your ass, and see what you get. Borderline damn stalker, okay! Anyway, I knew I had his ass hooked, even if he was fucking other bitches. Those retarded-ass hoes were getting his hard dick, but I had his heart. At the time, that’s all that really mattered to me. Now, if I could rewind the clock, I would have left his ass on that dance floor that night at the party and never looked back.
Oh well…
“Hey, girl,” I say, taking the Fourth Street ramp toward Downtown L.A. “How’s everything?”
“Pasha, girl, please tell me you’re back from L.A.,” she says, sounding distressed.
“I’m still out here, girl. I’ll be home tomorrow around five, your time. Why, is everything okay?”
“N-no.” Her voice cracks. “Some shit hit the fan Thursday and I think…no, I know, it’s about to get real ugly. Ohgod, Pasha. I don’t know what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.”
My heart jumps. “Ohmygod, Mona, what in the world are you talking about? What happened? Is everything okay with Mario?” Mario’s her sixteen-year-old son who stays in some kind of trouble over these young hoes because he can’t keep his dick in his pants. Like father, like son. And if he’s anything like his father, I know he’s slinging one big-ass dick. Not that I’ve fucked Avery, Mona’s husband. But I have seen it before. And believe you me. It’s one big, juicy sausage! Mmmph.
I guess you want to know how I know this. Well, um, let’s say—without going into too many details—that he was prowling around up on Nastyfreaks4u looking for a little sidepiece head and sent an attachment of his hard dick to my Deep Throat Diva email. For some reason, his email stays stuck in the back of my memory.
Hey Deep Throat Diva, I’m 5’11 black 195lbs with a nice 8.5 thick, fat cock for your mouth and throat. Private, very discreet. Married with family here. Cool laidback guy…
Unfortunately, I didn’t know it was his dick or that he was the man behind the email or screen name READY2NUTINU until I got to Mountainside Park, stepped out of my car and he rolled down the driver’s side window of his tinted-out black SUV. Talk about shocked! My face cracked. And so did his.
I was fucking sick to my stomach. And to think of all the email exchanges, IM-ing and cyber-sexing he and I had done in the wee hours of the morning—with Jasper asleep in the other room; and probably the same for Mona. How he loved his wife, but was bored in bed with her. How he loved head, but his wife didn’t like sucking dick. How, when she did, it was half-assed. How I called his wife whack for not keeping his dick wet. How I told him how I couldn’t wait to taste his fat dick, how I couldn’t wait to make love to it with my mouth, lips, tongue and hands; how I loved to deep throat; how I was going to suck his dick in a way that his wife never had, never could, never would. How I was fantasizing about being on my knees and worshipping his cock and swallowing his creamy load.
I told Mona’s husband all of this.
And, then…even after Avery realized it was me, the nigga still pulled his dick out and wanted, practically begged, me to wet it. And, yes, I got the shakes. And my mouth watered. I’m not going to lie. But I refused to go there. However, um, I did reach into his truck and stroke it a few good times, gripped that thick-ass sausage with its big fat cockhead with my paraffin-soft hands and jacked him off until my conscience got the best of me. Then I let it go, shaking.
As bad as I wanted to click on the whore-switch and hop in the passenger seat of his truck, lean into his lap and cock-wash the skin off that shit, I couldn’t do it. Not after finding out whose husband he was. I couldn’t do that to Mona. And I couldn’t bring myself to do it to myself. I already felt guilty for doing what I was doing behind Jasper’s back. I didn’t need to add Mona to the list. No matter how messy I was being. And, yeah I know I was fucked up for even touching his dick. I should have spun on my heel and sped off in my car. But I didn’t.
Sadly, every time I look at Mona, knowing she’s a lazy dick sucker, I hear him saying, “She half-sucks my dick.”
I wish I would have never gotten in my car that morning to sneak off to suck another nigga’s dick when I should have listened to the nagging voice that was in my head warning me to leave well enough alone. But I didn’t listen. I lied to Jasper, telling him I was on my way to the gym. Then found myself face-to-face with my best friend’s husband.
Now when I see Avery, which is rarely, there’s an awkward tension between us. Every time I look at him, the only thing I see is his beautiful eight-and-a-half-inch dick. The only thing I’m sure he sees is what he almost had. These soft, pretty lips wrapped around his hard dick.
“Pasha, that I could deal with,” Mona says, bringing my attention back to our phone conversation. “But this shit right here…” She pauses, pushing out a heavy breath. “This is some serious shit, Pasha.” She sighs. “I think I’ve gotten myself into some shit way over my head.”
“Mona, what in the world is going on? Tell me something. You’re talking in riddles.”
“I can’t go into it over the phone. But the minute you get home we have got to talk—in person. First thing. And whatever you do, Pasha. You have to promise me that you’ll keep this shit quiet. You can’t repeat this to anyone.”
“Mona, you know me better than that. I don’t flap my gums like most bitches.”
“I know. But after you hear what I have to tell you…”
“Mona! What the fuck is going on? You can’t call me with this, then leave me hanging like this. You need to tell me something, girl. Does it have anything to do with Avery?”
“No, no; not at all. Avery does what he does, but you know I keep his ass on a short leash. I’ll tell you when I see you—everything. Anyway, have you talked to Jasper?”
I frown. “Yeah, earlier but I hung up on his ass. Why, does this have something to do with him? If so, I’m not interested in hearing anything about him caught up with some other bitch.”
“Girl, no worries. You know I stopped calling you about dumb shit like that years ago. This is on some other shit—more serious shit. But, like I said, we can’t have this conversation over the phone. The minute you get home, you have to call me.”
“I will. But I don’t know how you expect me to go another day and not know what the hell is going on. What can be so bad that you can’t tell me over the phone? You said it’s not about any of Jasper’s bitches. And, obviously his ass isn’t locked up since I spoke to him earlier. Is it about Stax or your brother Sparks?”
“No. Stax and Sparks are fine, girl. No one’s locked up. Yet, anyway.”
I catch the yet part, knowingly. All them niggas riding Jasper’s nut sac are caught up in the game one way or another. His whole street team is mostly the niggas in his family. It’s like them niggas were all born into it. And it’s only a matter of time before someone gets knocked, again. I wonder if Stax would take the weight for Jasper’s ass if they got popped. I hope he wouldn’t. But I don’t ever see him snitching either. Then again, who knows what a nigga looking at football numbers will do.
Anyway, Stax is another one of Jasper’s cousins. He’s also Jasper’s right-hand man. You see one; you’re bound to see the other, partners in crime. They say birds of a feather flock together. But, unlike Jasper’s messy, cheating-ass, I’ve never heard Stax getting caught up in any female drama, even when he was with his baby’s mother, Mariah. If Stax is out there doing dirt, you’d never know it. Obviously, he knows how to move. Something Jasper’s sloppy-ass needs to do better at. Jasper would fuck a bitch right up in our bed—if he hasn’t already—then try to lie his way out of it once he got caught pulling his dick out of her.
But, whatever! Back to Stax. Although I’ve never looked at his chiseled six-foot-six, fine, milk-chocolate-ass sexually, there’s something about the way he looks at me with those beautiful sparkling brown eyes of his that unnerves me.
I’ve never been one to get caught up in gossip. However, word among the nut-hungry hoes is that he has a big-ass dick and a set of big, juicy, plum-size balls hanging real low with it. And, shamefully, over the years of knowing Stax, I’ve occasionally had to fight myself to keep from sneaking peeks at his crotch, especially when he wears sweats. And, well, the few times I’ve slipped, I always caught a glimpse of a thick, long lump in his pants. So I believe the rumors are true.
But that’s neither here nor there, since I don’t want him. Every time I see him, knowing that he’s Jasper’s right-hand nigga, I can’t stop thinking, wondering, if somehow he was one of the niggas who was down in the basement with me, shoving his dick down in my throat. Although none of them that I can recall had his gym-ripped body, or a tattoo of their daughter on their forearm. Still, I wonder.
And the fact that Stax does his best to avoid me, and only comes around me when he’s with Japser, makes him suspect. Makes me wonder how much of what went down with my kidnapping he played a hand in. I know he knows all about the dick-sucking rampage I was on. Jasper tells him everything.
Still, regardless of what he knows or whether or not he was down in that basement, he’s never treated me indifferently or looked at me with disgust in his eyes. Nevertheless, I search my brain, replaying the horrible scenes in my head over and over, trying to see if any of those eyes peering through the slits of those black ski masks belonged to him.