The First Two Chapters Of My Novel Tricks For A Trade

Chapter OneFriday, July 11, 20085:40AM“You on your period, now?  Really?” Armando’s said in disbelief as Karen turned her back to him in bed. He didn’t know why she would even bother telling that lie.             “Was a time when I’d fuck that pussy out of place and ol’ girl would be so tired, she couldn’t talk shit or ask a lot of questions,” he thought to himself. Now, Armando was getting bullshit excuses AND no pussy. He wondered if he was losing his touch.            Karen wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but she was cute to look at. Medium brown, with long-lashed, warm eyes, she kept her hair short, but always permed and together. None of that new-growth-busting-through stuff. There was a gap between her two front teeth, but it didn’t make her teeth look wrecked. You had the feeling her smile wouldn’t have been as beautiful if she ever got her teeth fixed. God must’ve skipped out on her in the self-esteem department, though. It seemed like everyone but Karen knew she was a good woman. Sure, she’d tell you that she was, but it’s not like she really believed it. Every time Armando stroked her hair, he was stroking her ego. He was a good man who’d found his good woman. He was just waiting on her to believe it too. “So, I guess I can’t get none before work, huh?” Armando asked, his thick arms crossed, his gray eyes seductive. She sat up in the bed, intentionally allowing the bed sheet to fall from her breasts. “Boy, you better stop playing with me,” she said, unfazed by his eyes’ magic. She’d seen them before.Armando jumped from the bed and stared at Karen with both anger and lust in his eyes. His boxers fell to the floor. Karen couldn’t help but steal a glance of him stroking his girth. But it changed nothing.            Determined to remain strong she asked, “Have you given anymore thought to what we talked about?”             “Karen, don’t start that shit again, all right?” He stopped stroking.            “No, Armando. I’m going to keep on that shit. I’m getting tired of hearing my mama suck her teeth, telling me how I’m living in sin.”                       “I don’t know why you gotta tell your mama everything in the first place,” he said.            “Because she’s my mama!”            “Oh, please. Ya’ll don’t even get along.”            “Don’t try and change the subject,” Karen said, shaking her always well manicured hands and rolling her neck. “When are we getting married?”            “I gotta go to work.”            “Yeah, that’s right. Take your black ass to work. But we ain’t finished with this conversation. Believe that. But I know one thing; I better not find out that you’re fucking some other woman, Armando. Because if you are, you better take a good look at that dick of yours, baby.”            “What, you’re gonna go Lorena Bobbit on me?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.    “Hell yeah. But in your case, they won’t find it in no bushes.”            “Why is it every time you hear something you don’t like, I gotta be messing around?”             Karen didn’t care how many times he claimed his whoring days were over. He hadn’t proposed to her yet, so he must’ve been out laying every female that would let him. She gave him the iciest of stares, her arms folded, like she was expecting a full confession to some bogus shit he’d been doing.Instead, Armando went to the bathroom; his jet stream of piss turned the toilet water yellow as Karen stood in the doorway. Her words began sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher, “Wah wah wah wah, wah wah wah wah!” He closed his eyes, clenching his ass cheeks so that a fart wouldn’t pop out. He hated farting in front of a female, no matter how comfortable he was with her.            He flushed the toilet, hearing her say, “Enough of the dumb shit!” He slammed the door in her face, which was met with angry pounding. He locked the door and turned on the shower, jumping in quickly. The bitch didn’t deserve his dick anyway.            After his shower, Karen had quieted down. But he wasn’t going to risk starting her up again, so he avoided eye contact and put on his underwear, undershirt, black work pants and white golf shirt in record speed. Karen sat on the side of her bed with her back toward him once more.            Karen had told him a thousand times---she felt used and abused. He got it. And he was sorry she felt that way, but it wasn’t going to change who he was. He did want to marry her…someday. But since leaving home at 18 to get away from his mother and her boyfriend drama, he’d been in survival mode, always thinking, “Be loyal to yourself. Everything and everyone else comes after.” Freedom pulsed through his blood, and Armando wasn’t ready to give that up.            Why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy the orgasms he put on her? But maybe that was the problem. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to handle the dick. It spun her around and left her all out of breath… and paranoid. It also made her weak and co-dependent.          Armando walked up to Karen, kissing her on the side of her temple. “I’ll call you later,” he said.             “Whatever.”             He left for work, not feeling too badly about any of it. She was 27, just like him. They were both grown and she knew how he was.  Armando had to do things on his own timetable.  He had told her that a thousand times.            One thing was certain, he loved Karen. On a good day, he loved that she encouraged him not to be afraid to dream, and seize opportunities.  But as  he drove to work, he was reminded of  just how many of these opportunities he’d allowed to slip through his grasp: journalism scholarships offered by the Urban League, offers to learn a trade at Job Corp, work as an apprentice with a landscaper, and even modeling. He knew he had an intelligent mind if applied, but he was lazy. He’d gotten off easy with his looks. Gray eyes that contrasted brilliantly against his caramel skin, and hair fro’d-out like Lenny Kravitz, Armando knew he was a gift for the ladies. But it only took him so far. After working everything from janitorial to McDonald’s, Armando was now a busboy at the Peterson Hotel. He hadn’t exactly set the world on fire.            He pulled into the employee parking lot of the hotel. When he stepped out of the car, the humidity hit him so fiercely, he was bleeding sweat. Entering the employee entrance, Armando found no relief from the heat. The back corridors were just as hot as it was outside, which meant the AC system was busted again. “Great, I’m gonna be sweating all goddamn day long! These motherfuckas could invest in a decent system that works,” Armando thought to himself, though for a brief moment he thought he’d said it aloud. This is what he’d been reduced to; passing time in a dead-end job. There had to be a better way to make money.             Even if he were ready for marriage, how was he supposed to marry the woman he’d been blessed to have if he was always living hand to mouth? Day after day, busing dirty dishes, cleaning up sugar packets, and scraping cereal up from the carpet wasn’t going to provide them with any kind of life. Maybe Karen didn’t mind, but Armando was a man. He minded a lot.             By the end of his shift, Armando was so drained he walked out of the hotel without the obligatory goodbyes. The heat outside was as strong and determined as ever, and his skin was already damp and rubbery. He got into his car, pulled out into the street and made his way toward home.              At the corner of Franklin and Hennepin, his cell phone rang. It was Karen. The light at the intersection turned green, he made a right turn and found a spot on the neighboring city street to park so that he could take the call.  “Yeah,” Armando said, impatiently.             “You need to stop off and get something for dinner because I ain’t cookin’,” Karen told him.              “Now what’s wrong? I wasn’t planning on stopping.”            “Look, the slave trade ended years ago, okay? I’m not cookin’ because I just walked in the door my damn self, and I’m tired.”            “What do you want?” Armando was getting agitated.            “Go by the chicken joint. I want some chicken.”    “Karen, I’m almost home. You better think of something else to eat because I’m not searching high and low for chicken.”             “Look, nigga, you asked me what I wanted and I’m telling you. I’m not gonna sit up here and play on the phone, so bring me some chicken!” Karen screamed as Armando hung up on her.The phone rang again and Armando ignored it. He checked around to see if anyone was coming. When he pulled out to head to the nearest KFC, he heard the chirp of his voicemail. He knew it was Karen, calling to curse him out for having hung up on her.Once he pulled up to the restaurant, he remembered that he didn’t know what exactly Karen wanted. So he ordered a 10-piece bucket of original recipe with biscuits and mashed potatoes. If she didn’t like it, too damn bad. She should’ve gotten the food herself, he reasoned. After picking up the chicken, he stopped at the Super America gas station for cigarettes. The woman cashier was cute, he thought.             “How you doin’?” she asked him.            “I’m fine. Just trying to get home, ya know?” he said, smiling.             “I heard that,” she said. As she scanned the price of the cigarettes, she leaned in coquettishly and said, “You know you need to leave these cigarettes alone. Didn’t your mama tell you those things are bad for you?”                       “We all need a vice,” he said, smiling back at her.                        Just then, the manager stepped out from the back area. But the cashier didn’t see the manager when she said, “Just be glad you ain’t my man. Cause I wouldn’t kiss any man with stank cigarette breath.”             “Benita, what did I tell you about your mouth?” the manager admonished.  Armando paid the cashier and left quickly, not wanting to get the cashier into anymore trouble. When Armando got home he found Karen in the kitchen on the phone. He walked over to her and set the bag of food down in front of her. She looked up, telling the person she was on the phone with she would call them back and promptly hung up.            “I’m sorry, baby.” Karen looked at him with doe-eyed innocence. She wrapped her arms around his waist and planted the side of her face to his chest.             “Next time, get the shit yourself,” Armando said, pushing her away.            “Armando, come on now. I’m trying.”             Armando rolled his eyes. “Do you even know why you’re sorry? Just eat your bucket of grease and leave me alone,” he said, leaving the kitchen to go into the bedroom. Karen got up and followed him in.              “Armando, I know I’m acting crazy. It’s just that I love you and I’m scared you’re gonna mess around and find a better offer with someone else. I don’t want to lose you.”“Look, I’m getting tired of your moods. Half the time I come up in here, I don’t know which Karen is gonna be here. I hate how you talk to me, too.”“I know, baby, and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll work on that.”Karen ran her hands along his chest, and down his stomach, resting them on his crotch.             “You gonna give me some later?” Karen asked suggestively.Armando turned to look at her. Now she wanted the dick? Typical. They’d argue one minute, and then behave as though nothing happened the next, usually after her mood shifted. Things between them had always been spicy and explosive. He remembered their fourth date…“You ain’t gotta lie, Armando! I saw you staring at that bitch in the movie theater,” Karen said once they’d made it back to the car.“Wow, Karen. How in the hell was I gonna be checking out another female when it was pitch black in the theater?”“Boy, you had all that light coming from the screen. You could see.”“Babe, you need help,” Armando said, putting the key into the ignition.“Do you think the bitch can do this?” Karen said, reaching over to massage his crotch.Armando’s body jolted at the sudden touch. He nervously looked around to see if anyone was watching them.“Ain’t nobody gonna see us. We’re parked back here in this corner of the garage. Now, you tell me if the bitch would do this,” Karen said as she pulled Armando’s growing girth from his unzipped pants. He watched helplessly as his hardened inches disappeared into her mouth. He pulled his underwear and pants down farther to give her easy access.“I asked you a question,” Karen said, stroking him suddenly. She looked up at Armando, who appeared lost in a dream.“Hell no, she can’t. You got this, girl!” Armando sounded out of breath, his voice thick with anticipation for Karen to place her heavenly lips on his manhood once more.“Yeah, I know this,” Karen said, secure in her skills. She may not have known if this man was truly hers, but she knew enough to introduce him to her inner freak.  She judged by Armando’s response that he was glad to make its acquaintance.  She reclined back into her seat, hiking up her skirt. She pulled her panties off and threw them in Armando’s lap. “Smell ‘em,” she instructed. Armando did so obediently. He sniffed her panties deeply as though he were taking in oxygen; her natural scent mixed with the jasmine and vanilla body spray. While his face was buried in her panties, she jumped on top of him, taking her panties from his face and tossing them into the passenger seat. She forced her tongue into his mouth, kissing him hungrily. “Recline this seat back,” she said. Armando fought with the side latch to get the seat to fall back as far is it would go. When it did, he turned to see Karen had unbuttoned her blouse. Her breasts were firm, nipples hardened by her own desire. He grabbed them and began to suck on them. She threw her head back, enjoying the pleasure. Then she lowered herself onto his dick, which had been aching for her. She rose and fell on it, at first slowly, throwing in a few pelvic swirls just to get used to him being inside her.“Naw, girl, you’re playing with me,” Armando said, his voice filled with the same wanting as before. He grabbed her ass and brought her down hard on his dick. She screamed out. This wasn’t the way Armando had envisioned their first time together. He assumed Karen would’ve wanted more from the experience. He respected her waiting until their fourth date. Most women he’d been with had thrown the pussy at him on the first night. Karen’s riding him in that driver’s seat would set the tone of their relationship: they’d love as hard as they fucked, buffered down by the commonality of having wrecked home lives with mothers that didn’t understand them. Karen’s past with a religious mother whose my-way-or-the-highway mentality made it easy for her to sympathize with Armando.            “Armando, you hear me talking to you,” Karen said, drawing Armando back into the present moment. “I said, are you gonna give me some later?”Armando smiled as he thought about the miles traveled in their relationship. He drew her near him. They stood in the middle of the bedroom, admiring themselves in the mirror across from the bed. Armando knew the sex with Karen was off the charts. As usual, all was forgiven. He knew her heart. She wasn’t perfect, and neither was he.           “Go eat, baby. Then we’ll take a nice, hot shower, and then I’m gonna lay it on you,” he said, his eyes sparkling.She could be in the world’s worst mood as she often was, but all he needed to do was smile, and all of their problems, at least for a moment, faded away.            Karen went back into the other room to eat her chicken, leaving Armando to relish the thought of becoming one with her. They had cleared the air just enough, so he could enjoy being with the woman he loved, and the happiness she brought to his life.
Chapter TwoFriday, July 11, 20087:30PM “You better sit still if you want me to finish setting this wig,” Cabrien said.            “Boy, how many bobby pins you gotta put in it? This shit does hurt, you know. You’re mutilating my scalp,” Don said, clutching the wig so tightly that he was ruining the curls Cabrien had just put in it.            “I’m sorry, but I gotta make sure it’s on tight so I can finish styling it. Boy, you just messed up the curls! Now I’m gonna have to redo them all!”            “Well, hurry up with those damn pins. I can’t take no more!”            Cabrien fastened the last of forty pins through the wig into Don’s real hair. “There. Now what were you telling me before?” Cabrien said, reaching for the large curling iron.            Don wiped the tears from his eyes, sitting for a moment to wait for the pain to subside. “I was saying how that drag queen, Glenda Dupree, took off her hoop earring and straightened it out before she stabbed some dude in the neck with it.”“Are you serious? Why in the hell did she do that?”            “She was probably with a piece of rough trade and he found out she had the same business between her legs that he did. I done told that bitch that just because she can give good face and realness, doesn’t mean she ain’t got to tell these straight dudes she messes with that she’s still a man.”            “Especially these thugged-out brothas. I don’t care how good she tucks her twig and berries,” Cabrien said, twirling the curling iron in his hand. He caught a glimpse of Sheronda, another stylist, who shook her head in disgust. Cabrien rolled his eyes, and went back to curling.             “Let me hurry up and get done with you. I see our neighborhood bible thumper over there can’t take a little punk bar storytelling.”            “Some kinds of talk ain’t appropriate, Cabrien,” Sheronda said.            “Then I suppose you’re talking about your gossiping too, right?” Then Cabrien leaned into Don’s ear. “If this rotten fish don’t stop pushing me, I’m gonna push back. Hear me talkin’?” he whispered.            “I know that’s right,” Don replied, giving Sheronda the evil eye.            Cabrien continued working in silence. When he finished, he whirled the stylist chair around to reveal the curled up-do to Don through the large mirror.            “Ooohwee!  Go in, bitch, and let have!” Don said with a snap of his fingers. “Ladies, I don’t know what ya’ll stylists call themselves doin’ to ya’ll heads, but this is how it’s done, hunties. Cabrien, this is beyond, honey!” Don sprang up from the chair and began sashaying around the room, which was met with mostly smiles and some stony faces. Cabrien smiled at his own handiwork. Don carefully removed the wig from his head and placed it on the mannequin head he’d brought. He put a baseball cap back on his head and paid Cabrien. “Are you going out tonight?”            “Hell to the yes, I’m going out.”            “Well, you best believe I will be rocking this wig tonight. I’m about to let the children have it, hunty!”            Cabrien gave Don a peck on the cheek. “See you later, boo. And thank you!”            “No, thank you!” Then Don left.            The woman seated at Sheronda’s chair shook her head and said, “Instead of going out to the club, they need to take their asses to church.”            “Amen, walls,” Sheronda said.            Cabrien rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, okay, Sheronda.  You do realize that Asa, your boss, is gay, right? Try telling himthat he needs to go to church and see if your behind still has a job, since you wanna be over there judging folks.”             As if on cue, Asa Barkley came sweeping grandly into the salon. He breezed past everyone with a quick, “Good evening, ladies,” stopping in front of Cabrien, who had begun sweeping up hair near his station.             “Cabrien, can I talk to you in the backroom, please?” Asa asked. Cabrien Jacobs noticed the other hair stylists look away and busy themselves with their clients.  “Anything you have to say to me, you can say right here,” Cabrien said.            “No, I need you to come in the backroom with me. Right now!” As Cabrien followed Asa towards the back, he noticed Sheronda staring at him with a smirk on her face; a smirk that told him he was in trouble.  “We have a problem,” Asa said.            “Who’s ‘we’?”            “The other stylists feel uncomfortable working with you.”            “Why?”            “They feel you have some objectionable personal habits.”            “What kind of habits?” Cabrien asked, folding his arms.            “Let’s take your attendance, for example. You’re barely here. And there’s talk that the reason you’re not here is because you’re off somewhere selling your body. Plus, Sheronda claims that you’ve been inappropriate with her fiancé.”            “And you believe that bullshit?”            “Are you denying it?”            “Asa, you know me. I’ve worked here for four years, and I’ve never done no messy shit like trying to take somebody’s man.”            “So, you’re not out there selling yourself, either?”Cabrien just looked at Asa.“Well, are you?”“That’s none of your business. Ya’ll been cutting my hours like crazy, so, I have to do what I have to do.”“I’ve been cutting your hours because you’ve been showing me that you don’t want them. And you’re right, what you do outside of work isn’t my business, but what goes on here is, which means having stylists who can perform the job I ask of them. You do great styles, and the customers love you--- when you’re here.”“So, what’s the problem? That appointment book is full because of my talent. That Hair Show Award sitting out there is because of my designs.”“I wouldn’t go so far as to say all of that. Anyway, I don’t want drama in my salon. Please, just clean out your station and leave.”With the exception of Sheronda, Cabrien hadn’t expected to be stabbed in the back by women he thought liked him. “Those black bitches are just jealous,” he thought to himself.            “I can’t believe ya’ll are doing me like this. Asa, you’re gay, too, and you’re gonna stand up here and side with them?” Cabrien asked, his eyes becoming teary.            “You think I’m going to side with you just because I’m gay? I’m not out selling myass when I should be at work. Besides, why would you want to work in an environment if people don’t want you there? Where’s your self-respect?”            “I’ll show you self-respect.” Cabrien stormed from the backroom and walked out into the busy salon and over to Sheronda, who was trying to look as though she knew nothing about the situation.            “So, I see you’ve finished the dirty job,” Cabrien said.             “Cabrien, why don’t you take your disease infested ass on outta here?”            “Disease infested? You’re sure you wanna take it to that level?”“Yeah, I said it. So what? You sissies are always trying to take other people’s men away from them, when ya’ll know there’s hardly any decent black men left. Ya’ll too busy trying to turn ‘em out!”            “I see. So, is that why your dirty-dick fiancé tried to hit on me outside the Gay 90s club? Is that why Mr. Down Low, told me he can’t stand fucking you because your pussy smells horrendous?”            “Cabrien,” Asa shouted. “Watch your mouth!”             “Sheronda don’t know what she started, Asa. Tell this nasty bitch to douche her stuff with some bleach!”            “Cabrien, there’s kids here!” Asa yelled.            “I ain’t thinking about these kids, Asa. You wanted to see my self-respect? This is it!” Cabrien grabbed his man bag, his body humming with adrenaline, and walked out of the salon, slamming the door behind him. “I don’t need that job anyway,” he thought to himself as he walked down the Minneapolis sidewalk. After all, he was a twenty-three year old pretty boy, with high cheekbones and a lean, muscular dancer’s build. Cabrien was a resourceful young man who knew how to use what he had to get what he wanted.            Cabrien left home when he was sixteen; he had no choice.  His mother cared more for her revolving door of live-in boyfriends than she did for her son. The constant name calling of “pussy boy” and “faggot” by his mother’s latest boy friend while she sat and did nothing had gotten old.  Cabrien hopped from one friend’s couch to another, and soon discovered prostituting himself to older men in Loring Park was a fast way to make money. By eighteen, he saved enough money to find an apartment and put himself through cosmetology school, all the while dreaming of becoming a successful celebrity hairstylist.By the time Cabrien got home, much of his anger fueled adrenaline had burned off, replaced by the sobering reality that he was unemployed. He called Don and told him what happened, and his fate. There was no sharp-tongued wit tossed back and forth, nor was there two- snaps-and-a-clap glee, but very real sobs from Cabrien, and words of support from his friend.“You listen to me, Cabrien LeAnthony Jacobs. There are other salons out there killin’ for someone with your skills! Tomorrow, you’re gonna take your ass out and get another gig with an even better salon, and you’re gonna make sickening coins, and let these bitches who thought they knew the tea have it!   Asa Barkley who?”Cabrien smiled at the prospect. With renewed hope he said, “Alright, chile, if I’m comin’ out tonight, then you’re buying the drinks…cuz a bitch ain’t workin’.”
Friday, August 1, 20082:30PM            Cabrien stood in the middle of his small studio apartment, furnished with mixed and matched low-end items from IKEA.  He was wearing a matching yellow gauze shirt and pants that were a dramatic contrast against his dark-chocolate brown skin. Cabrien gazed at the sunlight beaming through the window as though it held an answer to the question as to how he was going to continue paying rent. For three weeks, Cabrien tried getting hairstyling jobs with other salons. He may have felt good about the scene he caused at Asa Barkley’s salon, but Sheronda wasn’t going to just stay embarrassed. She told every salon that called for a reference that Cabrien was unreliable, and a male prostitute. After that, he never received a single call back from any of the salons.             The landlord had been more than patient. He’d even taken a liking to Cabrien. So much so that the two of them spent many evenings in their mutual loneliness, sipping wine together as they tried one-upping each other as to who led the more pitiful existence. Some of those evenings ended with Cabrien giving the landlord a mercy blowjob, which paid the rent for the month completely. But now the landlord met a woman online---willing to give him her heart and a blowjob, while Cabrien’s savings dwindled fast.             Feeling that he had no hope, he shrugged helplessly as he heard a knock at the door.Ralph Sorrentino stood in the doorway, smiling with big, lustful eyes. He was the UPS man who made deliveries to Cabrien’s building, and quite a few visits to Cabrien’s apartment.His uniform looked as though it were made with him in mind. Ralph’s shirt hugged every muscle of his upper body, with tufts of black chest hair peeking through, while his tight shorts showed off his firm bubble butt.  “How you doin’?” Ralph asked.“I’ve been better. Been waiting on you to make one of your deliveries, though. I see that it’s arrived in great shape as usual.” “Yep. I got your package right here,” Ralph said, clutching his crotch.“Well, come on in, then. Shit,” Cabrien said, backing away to allow himself a full view of Ralph’s rock hard body as it entered his apartment. “How’s the wife doing?” Cabrien asked, looking at Ralph’s solid calves as he walked toward the platform bed.“She’s fine. Still pregnant.” “She should’ve had that baby by now. In fact, to hear you tell it, she should’ve had at least two,” Cabrien said playfully.“Hey, ya got me. She slaps me in the face whenever I try to touch her. She won’t even blow me. But she never could suck a dick like you, anyway.” Ralph said, laughing.“Honey, nobody can suck a dick like me.”Ralph sat down on the bed. Cabrien remained by the door, waiting to be beckoned. He liked it when Alpha male types like Ralph took control.“Why are you standing over there? Come sit by me,” Ralph ordered.Cabrien did as he was told. As he sat on the bed he could feel Ralph’s large hands caressing him. He leaned in to kiss Ralph.            “I don’t kiss,” Ralph said, turning his head away. “You know that.”            “I forgot. Sorry.”            “Show me how sorry you are.”Cabrien knelt before Ralph,   who looked at him with anticipation. Cabrien started by removing Ralph’s boots. He placed his hands beneath the arches of Ralph’s socked feet, rubbing them.            “Damn, you got big feet.”            “You know what they say, baby; Big feet, big cock.”            “They weren’t lying in your case, were they?”            “Nope.”            “What else do you want me to do for you, Ralphie?”            “Why don’t you get started on this dick?” Ralph said, unzipping his zipper.Cabrien could see the outlines of Ralph’s dick through his shorts. As he continued massaging one of Ralph’s feet, his other hand moved up towards the cock and began rubbing it. Ralph let out a deep moan as he began to pull his shorts and underwear down. Cabrien licked the head of the rock solid dick. Ralph closed his eyes and leaned back onto the bed.            “Aw, man,” Ralph said, as Cabrien took the head into his mouth.            “I love the taste of your cock, you know that, don’t you?”             “You’re teasing me.”Cabrien held the cock at the base and spit on it, then, he engulfed it with his mouth, alternating between stroking it with his hand as he sucked it.            “God, you’re killing me!” Ralph exclaimed as he grasped handfuls of Cabrien’s bed sheets.Cabrien continued sucking Ralph’s dick, changing his rhythm every few seconds as Ralph whispered, “Wanna ride me?”            “You ain’t tearin’ me up with that,” Cabrien said, looking down at Ralph’s thick, uncut penis as he came up for air.            “Aw, come on. My ol’ lady is real bitchy lately. She won’t let me fuck her.”            “Too bad for you,” Cabrien said, before putting all of Ralph’s cock back into his mouth, trying to get Ralph’s mind off of fucking him. Ralph lay back on the bed.            “That feels so fucking good, dude.”             Cabrien lifted Ralph’s massive legs into the air as he sucked him off, deep throating like the pro he knew he was.            “I’m gettin’ close, man,” Ralph said, breathing heavily. “Where do you want my baby-batter?”Cabrien began to laugh. He had never heard that term for semen before. But before he could respond….            “Aw, shit! I’m comin’!” Ralph unloaded a flood of cum inside Cabrien’s mouth.            Cabrien’s cheeks inflated as he received the heavy gush of Ralph’s semen. He spit as much of it out as he could before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared at Ralph, who was still lying on the bed; his chest rising and falling as his body shook from the explosive orgasm.            “Motherfucka, don’t you ever come in my mouth again!”            “I’m sorry. It’s just that it was feeling so fuckin’ good. I didn’t know where you wanted it.”            “I don’t like that shit!”            Cabrien got up and went into the bathroom and ran the faucet. He scooped cold water into his mouth to rinse it. He looked into his mirror and could see Ralph pulling up his underwear and shorts. When he came back into the room, Ralph looked up at him sheepishly.            “Are you mad at me?”            “I know I’m good, but damn!” Cabrien said, trying to lighten his anger. He didn’t want Ralph to say that he wouldn’t come back again.            Ralph reached for his boots and began putting them on. “Well, I gotta run. I got some more deliveries to make and, well, you know….”            “Yeah, okay. I got it.”Cabrien smirked.            “Next time, I want some of that tight ass of yours,” Ralph said.            “I’ll think about it. But I should tell you, my cookie is so good, you won’t be able to handle me.”            Ralph got up from the bed and walked up to Cabrien, looking him right in the eyes and said slyly, “Dude, I’ll break your fuckin’ back.” His five o’clock shadow gleamed with sweat.Cabrien shivered at the image of Ralph fucking him. “Ooooh, you better stop.” Ralph laughed, tucking in his shirt as he walked to the door. “I guess I’ll be seein’ ya,” Ralph said.Cabrien followed him to the door. “Only if I’m lucky.” He watched Ralph leave; whose body was considerably more relaxed than when he first arrived. Cabrien’s afternoon suck-off was an unexpected pleasure. He couldn’t charge Ralph his usual price ($250) because Ralph was too gorgeous in his own mind to pay it, and probably couldn’t afford it. But Cabrien knew that somewhere in the Minneapolis streets there were those that would pay the price, and do so gladly. Rent money problem solved.           

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