First Nut
by Dapharoah69 @ 2006 Copyright

Mah niggah spread mah ass cheeks apart and demanded I hold them and I did, the both of us sweating profusely while he dicked me down Thug Style in this hot, aguishly sticky K Mart Warehouse. He was sticking good dick in me as fast and hard as he could, grabbing my ass cheeks and I felt fingers embedded in my skin. Them silky thuggish deadlocks swung like Marley shot the Sheriff. It was after two A.M., and everyone has gone home. We were by the storage closet, where there is no camera, on a mattress we took from the Furniture Department. We hid in this closet 'til every one, even the managers went home. And now it was dark, hot, with a little bit of light and I been taking this dick every which way. good dick.

He slapped my ass. "Gotdayuum this shit jigglin'!"

I just met him today, when he came in to order a huge swimming pool. I do stocking. I went in the back and he followed me, since me and James were the only two working and when I located the pool the niggah was behind me rubbing my ass. He was straight thug, looking at him you would never guess he got down. "You got ass," he told me with a sneer and a smile. I want dis ass mah niggah.

And now he was getting it. I sucked the dick as best I could, ten inches filled my mouth like air I breathe. I swallowed his first load and now homebody wanted the second load,"deep in dis asshole bitch!"

His tattoos, all ten of them, shined from the little light coming through the open back door. Chocolate skinned, Tyrese-looking ass niggah. Nice ass, nuts slapping the top of mah asshole as he drilled all that Grade A dick into my shaking body. Dayum dick was a powerful thing.

"I'm bout to nut bitch!" He stood up and nutted all over my ass, hot, dripping cum that sent me over the top and before I knew it I was coming. "Nah niggah lemme see dat shit bitch!" He flipped my tired, worn, sexy body over and watched the cum shoot all over my stomach, face, nipple. He got on his knees and licked it all up, and swallowed every drop. This was nothing like...my first nut. My cell phone rang. Mah new niggah picked it up.

"Dis yo new man calling you?" he asked, brows raising, joking but he was serious.

"Naw, naw I ain't got nobodee."

"Dat's what all the sexy niggahs like you say. Niggah when I seen you in this store I was like Goddayuum, I gotta fuck homeboy or get my dick sucked you da shyt playah. And you mah bitch now, I mean dat shyt I'm possessing dis asshole you wanna get fucked or make love you call me." He stored his number, all six of them, in my phone. "And with pussy of fire like you got you playin' me, G." I noticed him now. Scar under his right eye, scar on his chin )very sexy), pants pulled up to the start of the V on his groin area, a lot of ass. Nikes. Do rag on his head. red bandanna tight forward like Tupac. He was all man, talked like he was hood. Liked it. Unelectable punk.

"You sure," he asked, putting on his Scarface shirt. Al Pachino in the flesh. I smiled. He lay on top of me and tongued me. I tasted the weed and alcohol on his breath and I didn't care. I liked mah niggahs rough.

My cell kept ringing. It was mah moms.

"Its mah moms dawg."

I answered. "Where are you," she asked. "I'm sitting in my car outside of K-Mart waiting to take you home. Ain't no cars here but me, where the fuck are you?"

Mah niggah heard. "Oh snap dawg don't look like you got the power no more."

We laughed. He was kid like. But something in me told me if I crossed him I'd be a dead man.

"I better get outta here." I hung up on Mama.

"Good thang you left the back door cracked when they turned on the alarm, alarm ain't even on now."

"Go shopping then, niggah."

"Don't worry, by the time 4 A.M. hit I'm have a U-haul truck fulla shit."

I left after tonguing him, it was hard leaving him its like with any new niggah, you always get the sense that since the dick was good and the vibe was good and his looks were good you'd never see him anymore and I hoped that wasn't the case but my heart and head told me with six numbers in my phone he was gon be a keeper. I skipped to mah Loo out to Mama's car. She looked at me weird, saying, before I opened the door, "Sometimes I wonder about you boy," and she turned up Sam Cooke and forgot I was in the damn car. Well, briefly. Once I got in she let me have it, cussing me out all the way home. When we turned out onto U.S.1, I seen my niggah silhouette over by the K-mart store, with his hand on his dick and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Two hours later.

She sipped the last of her Bacardi when she looked at me sternly, grabbed my hands and said, "Baby, I'm your Mama. What's up, why are you so depressed?"

I looked at my mother, Henrietta Hampton with the Triple X attitude and sighed. I was 23 years old, holding my mom's hands like I was a lil' bitch. "Ma. I'm fine." My heavy brawly voice did somersaults off the beige walls, the hanging silver-framed, ancient photos hanging about the living room exhibiting fifty years of Black Elegance, Black History she and my dad, who was a sexy ass niggah, carpenter and at work now, built together. They met in the second grade and they told me they knew they were meant to be together when he stopped a white man from trying to kill her when she was five years old. She'd accidentally stepped on his white shoes in Savannah, Georgia and he pulled out a pistol and tried to shoot her in the face and dad, who was with his mother getting in a car, noticed it and he jumped out, ran at the white man full throttle and when his little body smashed into the crackah's, the gun flew through the glass store window, the white man fell on his face, a cloud of dust circulating like rings of Saturn and my mom was so shaken up she passed out and woke up in a hospital with both parents and my dad and his parents hovering over her with the police, who chewed toothpicks and looked at the black people like they were pigs with human dicks in they asses and when they left, after ten minutes of asking questions like, "The white man claims you stole his wallet and stepped on his shoes to try to flee," they left. Mama told me dad, who was six years old, looked at her, kissed her cheek (making their parents Ooooh and Aw www til they blushed) and whispered in her ear, "I'ma be your protector.)

And for fifty years his life was dedicated to making Mama happy.

But my life he made miserable.

Though we ain't been getting along like we used to, like we should, and like we could, we would if he could stop trying to tell me what I can and can't do and stop dicking me down every other day. He was so fine I couldn't say no. I was so fine he couldn't say no. Together every bitch in town took bets on who was gonna take us to bed. We been offered money, cars, high-paying careers. Some woman, yesterday, told me she wanted me and my daddy to double penetrate her. I was like dayum I wanted to but not with dad so I fucked her solo and nutted in the pussy. I loved the hoes but secretly I loved the niggahs too. Dad, Earl, was a sexy, tall, imposingly incredible man with a heart of gold but street whit of fire. Everything was a deal, a bargain, a hustle with him. He'd talk Ice T into retirement in fifty seconds ; If your read Ice Berg Slim Dad had a lot of that instilled in him, though he cheated on Mama countless times, pimping women when he was twenty years old to keep a roof over my family's heads (without Mama ever knowing cause he pimped in Chicago and we resided in Georgia), he did whatever it took to keep Mama happy. He never killed nobody and he never stole from nobody. We got what we got 'cause of a man being a man. He was a good dad, taught me things about life, all the things a real man teaches his son, but they only thing I hated was when he sniffed coke and his hands went to wondering my body. He did that shit ever since I was about twelve years old. I loved my dad, and back then he was God to me, a man I looked up to, tried to imitate, I talked like him with that Georgia Peach Niggah Slang, slurring words like I'm tipsy. I copied him. He taught me how to Mack to the bitches. He taught me how to fuck by fucking me. My dad used my love for him to cripple my independence. I was the one who didn't depend on him, I had a job at thirteen years old bagging grocery and he hated that with a passion, wanted to be the only man working in the house, wanted all the recognition. So to dispel that he caught me off guard one day, he was dressed superbly in a suit, shit when I looked at him I was like goddayum he's fine as fuck, but that was dad. He asked me, "How do I look," and I said, "Dad you da bomb dawg!" so excitedly and he locked the door and asked me to sit by him and I did with the quickness and he asked me had I kissed a bitch before and I said "Naw dad, don't know how to kiss."

He had loving, invitingly dangerous eyes. He was a man who got what he wanted. All of me loved pleasing dad. I played football as a kid to make him happy and won several trophies that are still gleaming, years later, on his dresser next to Mama's photo.

"Now comes the next phase in me teaching you how to be a man. I gotta teach you how to please women, that's my job."

And I was so ignorant, so ignorantly naive that I didn't know no better. I believed everything that came outta his mouth. If he woulda told me Madonna was really Janet Jackson with a blonde wig I woulda believed him.

He leaned up to me and I leaned up to him, slowly, lovingly. I stared deep into his eyes, eyes that said do what dad says he knows best. "Stick your lips out son." I did. We kissed. He gave me the tongue and I flowed with him like two boats at sea on calm waters. My dick got hard he stroked it. 'Bitches love to kiss and love when they can stroke the dick like this son." It felt so good. I was breathing hard, hugging him and we tongued for dear life. He stripped off his pants and told me to give him head and i did and he screamed at first and I jumped up.

"Your teef niggah, bend your lips over them and do it, like this." He leaned over and gave me some head and lightning shot through me, it felt so good I just looked at him and was confused. Damn, if I had a son do I teach him how to be a man like this? Shit, it felt good learning how to become a man. Hew sucked me til my body tensed and I cane and I didn't know what was going on but the feeling was so strongly intense tears raced down my face and white shit pumped out my dick and my body went into spasms and Dad looked at me like I was eye candy, smiling, eyes sparkling and he said, "That's your first nut. You never forget your first nut, that's what mah daddy taught me."

And on went his pants and out of the room he went, leaving me with cum all over me. And now Ma pours another shot of Bacardi. She stands up from the couch and smiled into her reflection in the mirror.

"Son. Talk to me."

"About?"

Her eyes cut into mine from the reflection.
Her eyes, her eyes scared me, made me tremble...

"Tell mama about your...first nut."

I detected the sarcasm.

And she killed the drink at the same time my heart did a back flip.

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