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It was the night before our critical championship game against the Lakers and I was chilling in the G-Spot, watching some fine-ass stripper work the stage.
“Do that shit, Honey Dew! Show these niggahs how you can work them pliers you got stuck up in your pussy!”
The girl was built with perfect proportions and every dick in the Spot was hard, including mine. The G-Spot was a gentlemens club for celebrities and hustlers deep in the game. I was a successful rapper and a rising baller with long paper, so I got a lot of nods of awe and recognition, and a few lame niggahs even stared at me, wishing they had my skills.
Id had some beef with niggahs in the Spot a few years earlier, so after glancing around to make sure everthang was straight, I put my hand over the rock growing in my lap and sat back to enjoy the show.
The lights went dim, and suddenly a single spotlight flashed over Honey Dews outrageous body. She gave us a few slow, nasty moves, and niggahs clapped and broke out the dollars as she bent over and spread her fine ass cheeks. She laughed and winked over her shoulder at niggahs in the audience, then squatted down and sucked a full bottle of Coke off the floor, gripping the neck with nothing but her tight-ass pussy.
“Dat aint shit! Dat aint about shit!” some drunk poseur standing beside me with gold fronts on his teeth yelled. “Dey got dat dere shit beat in the dirty souf! I know a ho down at Club Magic who can puff a cigarette with her pussy. And dat pussy be blowing perfect Os too!”
I prolly shoulda been resting at the crib on the night before a big game, but G had sent me a personal invitation, and I wasnt about to turn him down. Some major shit had gone down between G and my cousins a few years back that coulda got bloody. By showing up alone tonight I was sending him and his boys a clear message that Thug Williams was just as gangsta as ever. Dont let that NBA shit fool you. There wasnt a drop of bitch in my blood. Not a dimes worth of fear was in my pockets when it came time to roll up in Gs Spot.
I stood up and clapped hard for Honey Dew, then tossed her a bill that fluttered to the floor at her feet. She scooped up all her cash and gyrated her juicy ass off the stage, and I stayed on my feet as the DJ introduced a dancer called Money-Making Monique.
“Goddamn!” I leaned forward so I could see better. This jawn was rocking her hips like a motherfucker. Her long skinny fingers was rubbing and squeezing her firm breasts, and from where I was standing it looked like she mighta had three nipples.
Monique was a true freak. She did some damage to that pole that had my collar choking real tight, but when the music changed and a bunch of big niggahs in tiny drawers came out shaking their dicks for the ladies, I knew it was time for me to bounce. I walked over to the bar and gave a hustler named Moonie some respect. He was real loyal to G, but T.C. had dug him back in the day so I knew he was solid.
“Whattup,” Moonie said, showing me love.
I stayed cool. “Handling my shit, man. You know how it be.”
“Your album is hot, man. You been hooping like a motherfucker, too. The Knicks needed you, man. They aint been this hot in years. Keep em lifted, yo.”
Even though G had sent me a personal invitation, nothing in his Spot came free. Id dropped a grand to get in the door, and another one to cover my drinks and a piece of pussy too. I was cool with it tho cause I knew Id get more than my moneys worth in one of them back rooms. Some wild, funky sex always helped me get focused before a big game.
Juicy-Mo from 136th Street walked past and grinned at me real quick like she was scared to open her mouth and speak. It was hard to believe a dime piece like her was fucking with coldhearted G, and even though she was still fine as hell, it was only a matter of time before that niggah crossed her out.
Id sat down with G in his office and exchanged a few cool words earlier, and I could see why he was so strong in the game. That old niggah was smooth and crafty. He had absolutely no scruples and didnt give a fuck about nothing except runnin his dirty money game.
An image of T.C. flashed through my mind and I leaned against the bar. T.C. had warned me about fuckin with a OG like G.
“Look, Thug. That cat G took my brother Sonny out. If your cousins Pimp and Smoove wanna get shit all over their hands fucking with that motherfuckah, let em. But you carrying street dreams on your back, son. Me and Miss Lady got all our faith and hope riding on you. Besides, you too smart to get sucked into any pot that dirty niggah got cooking. Work your talent, man. Keep your hoop game tight. Pimp some broads. Cut all the rap music you can cut. But stay away from Granite McKay. Fuckin with him can be dangerous.”
“Yo, Moonie.” I signaled my man. “Lemme get some Moët, man. Two bottles.”
I took the bottles over to the cashier and got me a chip to room number nine. Id already picked out the girl I wanted to get with, and when I got to the room she was ready and waiting.
Her name was Saucy and she was holding a full physical package.
“Whassup,” I said and closed the door behind me.
She smiled and I couldnt believe how gorgeous she was. Her caramel-toned body was ripe and curved everywhere. Nice hips, big thighs, small waist. And at least five mouthfuls of big firm titties.
“Hey, Playa,” she greeted me with a big hug. She had on some slinky shit that was clinging tightly to her curves and felt good when she rubbed up against me. She reached over and pressed a button on the nightstand that let the cashier know I was officially on the clock. “You feeling good tonight?”
I kissed her lightly, then rubbed her bottom lip with my thumb. “Im feeling a little better. Now that Im with you.”
Saucy laughed, then walked over to the small table and got me a small glass. She held out the glass and motioned toward my Moët. “Well pour me a little bit of that, Daddy, and Ill have you feeling grand in no time.”
I poured and passed. She accepted.
“I know who you are, but I aint seen you in here before.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Its been a minute. But its good to be back.”
We drank together for a few and shot the shit. Saucy mighta been a ho, but I liked her. She had an upbeat attitude and a sexy, playful personality. She recognized me and knew who I was too, and that gave me a big lift.
“All right now,” she joked. She was giving me a lap dance and I told her to turn around so I could watch her from the back. I couldnt believe how she was holding it. She was slim in all the right places and phat where it was needed. She also had one of the biggest, roundest asses Id ever seen on a slim girl. I couldnt take my eyes off of it. She tossed her hands in the air and jiggled her perfect ass cheeks until my eyes got crossed.
“The Knicks got a big game tomorrow, right? You aint pumping out none of that supersperm tonight though, are you?”
“Umm,” I hummed, gripping her waist and palming her ass like it was a basketball. The way she moved, I knew she had some good pussy. I could just tell. “I dont know what you mean, baby.”
She laughed and bent over at the waist. I caught a whiff of her nook-nook and licked my lips and moaned.
“I heard all about your ass,” she said over her shoulder. “I remember when you used to hold the mic down with your two cousins, the Licious Lovers. They was just talking shit about you the other day on MTV and BET. Talking about how hard you rap and all them damn kids you got. Mamas babies and daddys maybes! Just dont leave no babies in this room with me tonight, kay, big boy?”
I was the one laughing now. “You aint gotta worry about that, sweetie. Trust me.”
She started laughing so hard she had to stop dancing and turn around to roll her eyes at me. “Trust you? Niggah, please! Thats probably what you tell all your baby mamas! But I can see why a bitch would wanna reproduce with you. You fine,” she grabbed my hard dick, “you heavy. And best of all, your bank is long and you paid.”
She gave me a crazy look and slapped herself on the forehead.
“Then what the hell am I talking about? I must be sleepin! Who wouldnt wanna have your baby!”
I laughed with her, but it messed with my head when people talked shit about my kids. Not because I was ashamed of having so many of them, but because for the longest time I hadnt done enough for any of them. A playa had four sons and five daughters. Id been real young when my first kid was born, and then the rest of them came so close together that I got paralyzed by all that responsibility. But my girl Muddah had corrected my vision on all that, and I was grinding hard for mine now. Had bank accounts and college funds and erethang for my babies. Life insurance too. It was the only way I coulda convinced Muddah to marry my ass. I had to be doing right.
“What else they be saying about me on MTV?” I said, changing the subject. I pulled her back onto my lap until she was straddling my legs.
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