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Life Bossy Ghostface Hood Rich Never Knew a Father's Love Soiled Pillowcases
Life Afta Bossy Ghostface Killa Hood Rich Never Knew Soiled Pillowcases

Big Tymers

Once I became older, those father-daughter discussions between Daddy and I became very dear to me. As I matured, they changed the way I viewed men, my desire to be loved, the things I valued in life, and my future. You see, though I went on to college and later became a professional woman, I must admit that in my younger days, there were three things wrong with me.
First, I was the daughter of DeMarques Prince. I was spoiled as hell and used to getting things my way.  I also came from a family of flamboyant nigga’s, so I liked nice shit. In my teenage years when my daddy wouldn’t do what I wanted him to, I needed a man with deep pockets, who could and would deliver my hearts desire. Since I thought I knew what I wanted in a man, I always keyed in on the kind that could bring it in an instant.
     Secondly, I was a cutie that grew up on the block. I knew I was a fine muthafucka and men that crossed my path in general let it be known on a daily basis. Now my downfall was that I was attracted to nothing but paid ass dope men. I mean, I admired everything about them. The way they walked, the way they checked hypes, and the manner in which they held their dicks while kicking it with their dawgs. I liked their stylish dress codes, from their jean hook-ups, to their custom suits with matching gators, which they rocked to some of the most elite events the city would ever see. I loved the flashy cars they drove, and that hard core mannerism they flaunted to let a nigga know they weren’t to be fucked with.
     Finally, I was that teenager that knew everything. Nobody could ever tell me shit, and if my parents or anyone else objected to my behavior, “So damn what,” I was gon’ do it anyway. I was that chick that was down for my man in spite of the drama it caused in my home.
     My biggest problem was that I wasn’t one to be on no lames with small pockets. Broke brothas couldn’t afford me, my time, or the poonachie, so I made it a point to stop the legit nine to fivers from trying to holla at me straight out the gate. This cat named Kenny was a perfect example. Poor Kenny, I remember dissing him just because he was a nice guy.
    
     “Asia, when you gonna hook up with a brotha?”
     “I’m not interested playa, don’t you work at Burger King on Grand River and Prevost.”
     “Yeah, and?”
     “And nigga you can’t afford me.”
     “What?”
     “You heard me.”
     “See Asia, pretty bitches like you make honest, hard working brotha’s like me fuckin’ sick.”
     “Naw, pretty sista’s like me, makes lame ass nigga’s like you recognize off the top that you reachin’ way out of yo league.”
     “Fuck you, trick.”
     “I wasn’t a trick just a minute ago.”
     “That’s when I thought you had some class, but I see you a dirty money rat.”
     Dirty Money Rat…Iwas not, so I didn’t even trip cuz that’s how nigga’s I dissed usually played me. It’s a shame a brotha can’t take rejection without getting all pissed off. Anyway back to the story….

     When I first started pullin’ street nigga’s, I didn’t have no home girls in my life to teach me all there was to know about the role of being a dope man’s woman. But from observing, I thought I knew enough. Shit, I didn’t need no seasoned hoe’s up in my business trying to school me anyway. Hell, I adopted what I wanted from a few of the sista’s I checked for and did my own damn thang.
     I’ll admit a hard head gets a sore behind, so a few lessons I most certainly had to learn the hard way. I don’t know why, but somehow I got hooked up with this ill bastard named Alex who was tickish as hell, and taught me how to take some serious dick. I added that fact because this brotha put in some long heavy stroking I wasn’t used to. Sad part about that was that no matter how much I grunted when it hurt, before it was all said and done, he had me lovin that dick.

     Is my self-esteem that low? I wondered, once I started trying to shake Alex. You know what, when I think about it, I believe it was, considering all I tolerated from him. I say that because no matter how bad he treated me, I convinced myself that that’s the way a man treated his woman to prove his love. For some women, getting ourselves involved in domestic violence is a whole lot easier than getting ourselves out. And when the abusive relationship thing found its way into my life, like anyone else, I struggled to leave as well. 
…♦♦♦…
 
    Right after Daddy was released from prison, I met Alex while I was in Detroit visiting my father for the summer. Our first few months together, Dad was like a guard dog. I mean, he was tripping hard about everything, especially boys. Actually, because he was so adamant about me not being out there, he didn’t leave me any room to breathe. I had to sneak around to do just about everything. Dad rode me about the way I dressed, the kind of young men I found myself attracted to, and my strong sassy attitude. Oh here we go, I would always think seconds before simply tuning him out.  “And Asia, while you’re out there trying to be so damn grown, you better remember what I told you. And if I find out you sak chasin’, I’m splittin’ a nigga’s head to the white meat, then I’m comin’ for you.” Be serious, Daddy, people don’t even say sak chasin’ no more. Plus, I’m sixteen, touch me and it’s gon’ be on, I thought without saying, cuz I knew Dad wasn’t the one.

      It was always one kind of threat after another, so when I met Alex, I never told Dad. Since neither of them wanted me to date, he and GG would have had a fit. Besides, I didn’t want to hear no lectures.
     I think my GG was the one that got on my nerves about boys the most. She used to always get onto me about being to grown. “Asia, you need to put some dang clothes on and stop walking around here looking like you’re lookin’. That’s what’s wrong with you youngins today; you always want to expose yourself. You ain’t leavin’ a thang to be imagined, so a boy gon’ know all of what you got before he should.”
     “GG, this is the style.”
     “Style my ass. If God wanted you to have all yo butt crack showin’, clothes wouldn’t exist. Wha’cha gotta have that low cut stuff on for anyway. It’s got you lookin’ like a tramp.”
     “I’ma…”
     “You ain’t gonna do nuthin’ but get raped. Men are horney these days, they’ll take yo little stuff and not think twice about it.”
My attempt to hip GG was hopeless. “See, Grandma Bean would have loved these jeans. That’s why I miss her so much. She let me be myself.”
     “Don’t throw Bean or nobody else up in my face.”
     “GG, these clothes are just an expression of my personality.”
     “I got an expression for your personality,” GG fussed, making an ugly face at my attire. “Yo Grandma Bean would have liked those pieces of scraps because she was hot just like you at your age. Hell, that’s why she had kids so young,” GG paused with the most serious look on her face, then asked, “You are on the pill, Right?”
I was not finna talk about my sex life with my great-grandmother. I could just see myself telling GG about my favorite positions, or my freaky tales. Forget this, I thought before getting up to go to the basement to watch rap videos.
    
     Week two, Dad immediately forced me off on a cruise, talking about some bonding time. I’d already met Alex by the time we left for our trip, so in all reality, Dad didn’t stop nothing more than a week of chit chatting. I won’t lie, we did have a ball. Not to mention that it was a much needed trip for us both. By the time we made it home, I was ready because I’d thought about Alex my entire trip.
     When we got back, Alex talked about how much he missed me, but I thought he was just shooting game, so when he started trying to come see me and asking to take me out, I went crazy trying to come up with excuses as to why neither could happen.

     To be honest, when I think back on it all, I don’t even know why I got so caught up with Alex anyway. I could see that we were different from jump, so I knew he was a nigga to beware. All the signs were there, but I ignored them. He was charming, said all the right things, and to win me over, he bought me lavish shit that no other dude I’d ever dated could afford. Besides, I really didn’t know how much of a fool he really was until after the verbal abuse became a regular occurrence. To this day, I wonder did I tolerate him for as long as I did because I thought I was lacking something in my life. Who knows? I guess I’ll just get on with the story and let you be the judge.

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In Luv With a Stripper

1
Two Yards of …

     “What the hell are you looking at?” I asked Dante, gapping my legs wide open to give him a sneak peek of my bare pussy.
     “Damn, you’re wet as hell,” he replied, licking his LL lips. “You need some of dis dick?”
     “Why you say that? You likin’ what you see?” I sensually asked, bending my bare cheeks over in his face to give him a close wiff of my sexiness.
     “Hell yeah!  I’m likin’ all of dat. The whole hook-up is turnin’ a nigga on,” he responded, grabbing himself. “Fa’real Mami, I could beat dat up right na.”
     “So what you wanna do?”
     “Wa’cha mean, what I wanna do?” he asked.
     “Just what I said…. What… You… Wanna… Do?  I ain’t stutter. You said you wanna be up in this, so take off them fucking clothes,” I insisted, grabbing his fingers. As they fumbled over my vaginal lips, they became saturated with my juices.
     “Damn! How you gon’ tease a nigga? You know it’s been a minute since I had some of this?”
     “Well, in the future you need to leave them tramps at the club when you’re supposed to. Then you won’t have that problem,” I fussed, smacking my lips. “When you gon’ start acting right, anyway. You promised me that we were gon’ be together some time ago, and here we are still booty calling.”
     “You sound like you’re complaining.”
     “Naw, but I am ready for some kind of a commitment.”
    “Look Lovie, the main reason I fuck wit’ you is because you don’t pressure me about what I do. And…I like it that way. Let’s not have no issues right now. We got a good thing going, so don’t start trippin.”
     “If you don’t want me, you need to stop playin’ mind games.”
     “Games! Ma, you knew what you were getting into when we hooked up. I didn’t hide my profession. Hell, you met me at a fucking strip club, so you knew how it was gon’ be from jump.”
     “Yeah, but I…”
     “But my ass! Deal with it, or move the hell on. I’m not committing for no damn body,” he insisted, unzipping his pants.
      I watched his punk ass as he stripped down to his birthday suit in sheer disbelief. I know this nigga ain’t talking to me like the bitches at that club are better than me. Shit, those broke sluts couldn’t hold a match to me. Huh, he’s trippin’, I thought, suddenly focusing in on his draws as they fell to the floor.
     “Oooo,” I whispered,noticing about two yards of dick unfold like a fruit roll-up. Feeling a little full of himself, Dante paraded around the house like my casa was his shit. I began to lust as dick flopped all over everywhere. Shoot, I need some of that right now to relax my damn mind. Every time that nigga whip that python on me, he sends me to bed smiling.
“Lovie,” Dante yelled, getting my attention.
     “What?”
     “Damn, didn’t you hear me talking to you?”
     “Obviously I didn’t,” I hissed, snapping out of my trance.
     “Pay attention then.”
     “Nigga, I’m not feeling you. You already said you’re not trying to be committed, so my mind’s on something else.”
     “I’ma still have you though.”
     “Nope!!!!  I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”
     “It’s already happening,” he replied, walking over to the bar. “Shit, I don’t want yo fine ass to be with nobody but me.”
      How is it that I’m a six digit salary woman and I let this dick swangin’ nigga, who lives off tips at that, treat me like a damn project chick, Ithought, becoming distracted. I’ve dated doctors, lawyers, and corporate gurus, and here I done sold my mama out and traded in all my childhood Diva Day Camp training for Merciless.
As I smirked at his comment, I peeped at all he was working with. Hell, the answer to my question became quite clear. That brotha’s dick had me under his spell.   
 
     “Well, all I’m gon’ say is, if you don’t wanna do right, how long you think I’ma be down with you coming over here getting drive by pussy,” I fussed as he poured himself a glass of Crown, and then made his way over to the couch to talk more shit.
     “Baby girl, I ain’t answering no questions right na’. Bring your sexy ass over here and give me some of dat pussy,” he demanded, stroking his dick and talking to me like I was a ho. Who does he think he’s talking to, I thought, easing over to assume the position, like I was his sex puppet. “Put my dick in yo mouth and suck this shit like you love a nigga,” he firmly ordered, grabbing a hand full of my hair because he was into that forceful shit.
     “Stop being so damn rough, you’re hurting me.”
     “Suck my dick then, and stop actin’ like you don’t know what I like.”
     “You know I don’t get down with sucking no dick.” Especially after Rondell exposed his fetish, I thought.
“So is that a firm no, or a possible yes?”
     “It’s a possible yes only if you’re planning on bending over to suck your own dick,” I laughed.
     “You got a smart ass mouth, but I ain’t gon’ lie that snappy shit be turning me on.”
    Y’all, I can’t even lie to you or myself either. I love for a man to take control and be a beast when he needs to. Dante was that kind of nigga. He was a rough neck, his body was stacked, and there’s no doubt that he was some real eye candy. Shoot, he was every ladies midnight fantasy. He had me so gone that I had to keep him a secret for as long as I could.  With my profession and all, I guess I thought he’d be a little much for my world. I say that because my mama alone had her ideal brotha all picked out for me. Dante was far from it.
     Now to let you in on a little secret, Dante was the kind of man that could talk to you like you were a worthless piece of ass, and then dick whip you to let you know he was runnin’ shit. He’d have you so pissed off with his fine ass for making you feel like a straight tramp, and seconds later, he’d whip a serious dick down on you that kept you coming back for more.
     Well enough on that. Let me cut to the chase and tell you exactly how I got so caught up and turned out on this Merciless character.  Oh, and once I invite you into my circle, don’t start hating on me. And for the record, whatever you’re thinking, if it ain’t something positive….. Keep it to yourself.   

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