Guide The Nookie Aint Free (Urban Erotic Novel)

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He slid his palms under my hips and grabbed one ass cheek in each hand. Then he squeezed my mounds like they were two lemons, balling his hands into tight fists and digging his fingers so deep into my booty muscles he almost paralyzed me. I screamed. He rolled off of me and reached across the huge bed, searching for something under his pillow. That crazy motherfucker was holding a gun.

And not one of those regular old Saturday night specials either. Hurricane cursed and slapped the barrel across my mouth, busting open my bottom lip. I swallowed blood and panicked when I saw the crazy look in his eyes. My teeth were clenched but he forced me to open them shits, shoving that barrel halfway down my throat, then taking it out and cracking it first against my collarbone and then dead on the tip of my elbow.

I yelped and rolled over, balling up in a knot and cradling the black pain that ran from my shoulder all the way down to my fingertips. Suddenly he was on top of me again, and the cold metal was being pushed between my legs. All I could think was that the gun had a hair trigger and was gonna go off and blow me up from the inside out. I screamed and fought, but come on people. You know who had the wins.

Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions, The - Cardy, Barbara | Books | Photocopier

And then my pussy was being filled up for real. With something so hard and icy it got my whole body to shivering with pain. But as chilly and cold as that revolver was, just take my word for it and believe me when I tell you. Diddy with his crazy self. They would take a niggah out real quick and then show you where the bodies were buried.

I Ain't Gonna Paint No More (La Habra)

It was up there that he made all the connections that helped him launch his record label and finance the hooked-up studio that we were chilling in right now. The real deal was that Hurricane had done something a whole lot of other hustlers wished they could do. Hurricane kept the Mob money fresh and clean by washing it through his label, cook- ing the books on his artists, and producing underground porno videos and selling them by the thousands as adult entertainment. I got a baby girl and my mama works.

But I was tired of fighting off horny foster fathers and getting my ass felt by a bunch of play-play brothers. The only other family I had was my baby sister, Caramel, and she was in foster care too, somewhere out in Queens.

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I was at one of those frustrated points in my life where anything could have happened. I could have swung to the left or jetted straight to the right. Nicky Gabriano had come along like a life preserver, and getting in with his crew was a stroke of pure luck. The good thing was, I had enough smarts to know it. She said they checked out our demo, and they wanna see what else we got!

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Who checked out our demo, and how the hell did they get it? I ran into one of his boys at a show and slipped it to him. You know the fine-ass Hurricane who owns the House of Homicide in Harlem? The baddest record label in the nation? You ever heard of Big Joe or that new kid Dolla Bill? Too Tall? What about Dead Moon, that hot group from Brooklyn that came out this year on his new Homicide Hitz label?

Hell yeah I knew who Hurricane Jackson was. He had shit on lock all over New York and way out here in L. We had started singing together in foster care—me, Dominica, and our girl Vonzelle. Dominica was real pretty with big titties and a high ass, and she was also loud and ghetto. Vonzelle was just as bad, but she was sneaky and ten times prettier. All of us had been through some shit and none of us had had it easy, but Vonnie was the worst in our bunch.

Next Friday at ten. The chick on the phone said he was thinking about offering us a little something in writing.

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  • I followed Jazzy and Danita upstairs shaking my head. For a hot second I started to sit those two young chicks down and put them up on what was real. The most either one of them could hope for was a photo shoot for the porn calendar Hurricane put out every year or maybe a spot in one of them triple-X videos he shot and circulated underground. At best one of them might get picked as an extra ho when Hurricane produced his next video for a hot artist, but a recording contract?

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