By Chris Carr
Copyright © June 09, 2004
There’s this nigga at my grocery store. ‘Bout 20, fair skinned, got wavy hair, nice build but God damn, that ass! First time I noticed him, I kinda looked but didn’t look. You know, chatting it up with the cashier and tryin’ to keep it on the downlow. So I just snuck a look.
Next time I see him, he’s mopping up on the freezer aisle. And right quick, just in case somebody’s reading this, works at a store; why the fuck they gots to keep it so God damn cold on them aisles??
Ok, so like I’m sayin’… He’s mopping the floor, head down and he ain’t seein’ me behind him. Man, one of ma’ boys would’ve came through, ‘bout right then, I’d a been cold busted, ‘cause I was just starin’. I’m standin’ up there, starin’ and then he stands up and turns around. Yo, I ain’t ‘bout to go out like that, so I just play it off like I’m lookin’ at the pot pies and walk off.
But every time I go to that store, I can’t leave till I gets a peek at homey’s fine, round ground, nahmean?
One day, I’m up there shoppin’ and I’d already got my li’l look in, so I was tryin’ be content but then I see him headin’ outside, while I’m in line. Ol’ boy at the register is goin’ on ‘bout the Lakers and that game they fuckin’ lost last night, but I’m straight up, watchin’ the door to see if he’s comin’ back in. Finally, homey gives me my change and I make it for the door, hopin’ he ain’t left.
I’m lookin’ all around but I don’t see him. When I start up my ride, I see he’s headin’ for a basket, way at the end of the lot. Damn nigga, what you gon’ do, I think? I get another look at that ass and that was it. I just swooped.
"’Sup?" I said, pullin’ up beside him.
"A’ight," He says, lookin’ down at me. I’m gettin’ a little excited ‘cause this nigga is look even better up close.
"Yeah, so what time you get off?"
"Say what?" Oh, he tryin’ to play me. I act like I’m pissed, then I repeat the question. He looks at me for a couple of ticks, then says, "Go to lunch in ‘bout 15." He looks around like he’s bein’ watched.
"How ‘bout I treat you to lunch?" Ok, now he’s grinnin’ and he’s got the whitest, teeth.
"Yeah, I’m buyin’."
"You gon’ buy me lunch?" Soundin’ all skeptical.
"Not if you keep askin’." He looks at me for another long sec, then he says, "A’ight. Hold up… lemme see if Ricky’ll let me go now." I nodded, and he sprinted inside the store.
Five minutes later, here he comes strollin’ out the store, and hops in the car.
"So where we goin’?"
"Don’t worry ‘bout it," I say, wheelin’ out the store. He’s all starin’ at me like, no you didn’t, but he don’t say nothin’.
I zip down the back streets, headin’ straight for my pad and he still ain’t sayin’ nothin’. "Tony," I says, throwin’ him a li’l dap. "Dominic," he says, bumpin’ my fist with his. Gets quiet again, so I light up a blunt and gives him a li’l. "Might be a li’l late, gettin’ back," I say. He still ain’t said nothin’.
We get inside, and I turn on some music and take my bags in the kitchen. He stood there in the living room, suckin’ hits on what’s left of that blunt, till I motion for him to join me in the kitchen. I pour us a couple glasses of wine and then I takes off my shirt so I can get comfortable. He sittin’ there, doin’ what he’s supposed to do, lookin’ foine, and I get to cookin’.
"Like that," I comment, fingering his gold necklace.
"My lady got it fo’ me," He says, watching my hand.
"She got good taste," I say, starin’ right at his sexy eyes. He tries to stare me back, but then he looks away.
I ain’t no gourmet chef, but I hold my own. I’m dicing, and slicing and heatin’ up the skillets and shit, and in no time, I serve up a quick chicken dish. I spoon up a li’l to taste, and offer it to him. Got to tell you, I ‘bout nutted up when he let me slide that spoon in his mouth like that. Big juicy lips of his, snapped ‘round that spoon and then he flicks his tongue out and licks ‘em when I pull the spoon out.
"Like?" He gives me a li’l nod, licking his lips again, and I’m just starin’ at him.
I get the servin’ plates and shit and we head over to the table.
"How long you been with your lady?" I ask, setting a plate down in front of him.
Gives me another long look then he says, "’Bout six…" I take another spoonful of the dish and shoved it in his mouth, right while he’s talkin’. He opens nice and wide and takes that spoon again. Then he’s lookin’ at me, probably rattled.
I spoon him up a little on his plate and sit next to him. I take a couple of sips of my wine while he playin’ with his food.
"You ain’t gonna eat?"
"In time," I say, sippin’ again. He tries to take a bite, but can’t ‘cause I’m all starin’ at him.
"How tall are you?" I ask.
"5’11"," he says, lookin’ at me.
"Yeah, ‘bout what I thought. Probably weigh ‘bout," I stop, like I’m thinkin’, "165?"
"Size 9?" He looks down at his feet.
"Ok," I say, but I ain’t lookin’ at his feet, nahmean?
"You don’t like it?" I say, pointing at his plate.
"It’s good," He says, tryin’ to eat again.
"Here," I say, holdin’ my wine glass towards him. Like I expected, he didn’t take the glass. Just let me feed him a couple of sips. A little dribbles on his lip and I just catch it up with my finger and slip it in his mouth. This nigga ain’t said nothin’. Just looked a li’l surprised when I moved my finger past his lips.
Check, y’all got to get this picture: This nigga got a lady, he ain’t sweet actin’, matter of fact, I was wonderin’ if he would even go for this shit. But here he is, in my kitchen, my finger stuck in his mouth and he ain’t even tryin’ to make me stop. Gets me hot just thinkin’ ‘bout it.
I moves my finger real slow ‘cross his tongue and he’s just starin’ at me, then I feel his tongue movin’ just a bit under my finger. "Suck it," I tell ‘im, and he all starin’ at me, tryin’ to decide, I guess.
I run my finger real slow ‘cross his tongue again, and he takes the bait. Real light at first, I feel him start ta’ suck on my finger. I let ‘im hold it a few then, I slip it out, starin’ at him.
"You ain’t hungry," I insist, all subtle. Man, this nigga got the sexiest eyes and I’m gettin’ all turned on, lookin’ at ‘em ‘cause he steady starin’, tryin’ to keep up. "Yo, why don’t you kick them off," I say, lookin’ at his shoes.
It’s so quite, I can hear the water drippin’ in the sink. Homey finally reaches down and unties his shoes, slowly kickin’ them off. I motion at his socks and says, "Ain’t gon’ need them." No use in starin’, I think, watchin’ him watchin’ me.
"Yeah, why not?" He says.
"Just ain’t." Gon’ nigga, you know you want to, I think. He ain’t movin’, probably tryin’ to decide what he gon’ do, so I let it go, for now. Instead, I pull my shoes and socks off and gets up. I take the dishes to the sink and then I sit next to him again. He still tryin’ to nibble at his food but it ain’t no use, he ain’t hungry fo’ that, nahmean?
"Got some sexy lips," I drop. He looks down at his plate, movin’ his fork around.
I reach my hand under the table and put it on his leg. Makes him flinch, but that’s all. He’s still lookin’ at his plate. I move my hand real slow up his leg and it’s getttin’ fuckin’ hot in that kitchen. Get my hand up his leg til it moves up ‘round his dick. Nigga got a full blown chubby goin’ on. I snag that shit, feelin’ all on it and it just stands up, extra hard.
"So, you gon’ take them socks off?" I challenged, still feelin’ up his shit. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, tryin’ to hold back, but I squeeze his shit again and I see him bite down harder on that lip. Com’on nigga, quit fighthin’.
He ain’t moved, so I just reach down and pull his right sock off, ‘cause it’s closest to me. I grab his shit again, start strokin’ it. Now he’s startin’ to breath a little harder. Fuck the sock, I think and tell him, "Take that shit out." This nigga still tryin’ to hold back, so I just squeeze it again. Aww, see, he bitin’ on that lip again.
"Take that shit out."
Still ain’t movin, so I yank his pants open, run my hand up inside his boxers and grab that shit. Nigga lets out a soft sigh. I got my hand choked up ‘round his bat and he lookin’ at the floor. Shit is leakin’ and it’s hard as a rock. I pull it out his boxers and let it stand up on its own. Nigga got a hot ass dick, all hard and big with a big leaky head.
Takes a li’l of his juice and smear it ‘round his head and his toes start grabbin’ at the floor, nahmean? This nigga’s tremblin’, his shit is so hot, but he still ain’t takin’ off that other sock. Make me none, I got his soul in my fuckin’ hand and ain’t a thing he can do ‘bout it.
Choked up on that shit again, just so I can watch him squirm. Eyes closed, chewin’ on that lip and his big ass dick just shootin’ up from his boxers, all hard and wet. Coupl’a times, he got to movin’ so much, I figure I could probably make ‘em blow, just strokin’ his shit.
I stand up and pull him up with me. His pants fall down when he gets up so he standin’ there with them ‘round his ankles, his dick stickin’ out from his boxers. He looks at me and while I’m starin’ at him, I stroke it for him again. He’s tryin’ to stare at me, but he can’t ‘cause it’s feelin’ so good. There go them eyes, closin’ again.
"Get out that shit," I tell him....
Strokes my finger ‘cross his hole a couple more times, then I start pushin’ him down... down... down... down, till he’s on his knees, in front of me. You know what to do, my face says, and he reaches up and unfastens my pants.
"Get up on that shit," I snarl, while he all starin’ at my dick, ‘cause I ain’t got time fo’ him to be studyin’ shit.
Got-damn! Mutha fucka’s lips is like wet velvet up ‘round my dick. Lookin’ at his mouth all stretched ‘round my rock. Yeah, tussle with the muscle, nigga ‘cause you got a mouthful, I think, watchin’ him tryin’ to get ‘round that shit.
"Be just lickin’ on it, skull that shit," I say, grabbin’ him by the back of his head and pullin’ him down on it....
I wanna see how far this nigga can take it now, so I’m tryin’ to pull him all the way down to my funky ass balls. Mouth keeps openin’ wider… wider… Shit! He can’t take it all. Face gettin’ all red and I can tell he ‘bout to choke.
Grabs him by the hair and pulls him off my shit, then I just mashes his lips up ‘gainst my balls. "Get ‘em wet," I say, hopin’ they good and ripe, nahmean? Tongue slithers out and he starts lickin’ ‘em real good.
"Yeah, you missed a spot," I say, directing him back under them where they good and smelly. All the while, I’m still lookin’ at that ass ‘cause, it’s the ass of life, y’all....