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Tantalizing Tuesday: Leave that Pussy Alone!

The Skool of Skully

Mack ya hoes, boy! Skully Powers, Alabama’s favorite pimp had once told me. Don’t you never let them bitches mack you!

I had just turned seventeen when I killed a man over a prime piece of pussy. Growing up in a whorehouse I was well-schooled in the ways of women, but like most young bucks who were walking around with their nuts full of cum I could still be suckered by their charms.

Skully Powers was the type of pimp who ran his hoes fast and hard. He was an ex-boxer who was tight-fisted with money and known for his deadly mean streak. As long as the cash was flowing smooth in his pockets he could be cool. But let a bitch slip and his trap come up short. Skully turned into some other muthafucka.

Skully was cruel and brutal with his hoes, and when he put his hands on them he went for broke, focusing on all the parts on a hoe that the tricks didn’t give a fuck about: the top of the feet and the back of the head. He’d have his bitches skipping and hopping as he punched in their skulls and crushed their toe-bones down to the gristle.

“Listen up, Gerald. There ain’t but three kinds of people in this pimpin game: There’s macaronis--or macks, as a proper pimp likes to be called—and then there’s tricks and hoes. The three of us, we need each other. A hoe ain’t shit without a pimp to control her, a pimp ain’t shit if he ain’t got a hoe to bring him that bread, and a trick is a victim to both of them because he’s governed by his dick.”

I was all of ten years old, but I nodded like I understood.

“Now, there’s a fine art to the macaroni game,” Skully patiently schooled me whenever a hoe got outta pocket and he had to break her down. “Weak pimps have weak stables because they don’t understand the particulars of this profession. You see, hoes are your most important assets, Gerald, can you dig it? They’re worth more than gold, dope, and fast shiny cars.

“You gotta train ’em right and discipline ’em harsh, just like you would a stubborn dog, but at the same time you don’t wanna fuck up nothing that might compromise your bankroll, ya dig? Now, a hoe knows what she’s worth. She’s like a rotten lil child. Always playing games to see if she can catch her pimp slippin. She’ll deliberately come up short on your trap, or pick a fight with your best hoe, or slick-talk you in public just to test your gangsta and see if your mack game is strong.

“When that shit happens your retribution must be swift and merciless, son. Stomp that bitch into the gutter, Gerald! Make a public spectacle outta her ass! Beat her black ass until she’s BEGGIN to open up them legs and make you some bread, just as long as you leave her face, her titties, and especially that PUSSY, alone!”

Skully was a master at keeping his hoes meek and submissive, and if for some reason the beatings didn’t work he had another way of punishing them too. This method required more dedication, but it was also vicious and very effective, and he saved it for the bitches who had committed the very worst transgressions.

All the whores feared and loathed it. They’d rather get beaten half to death than to endure having this particularly savage punishment inflicted upon them. They called it getting “skullied” and they would fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness when a certain type of rage flashed in Skully’s eyes and he started loosening the buckle on his thick leather belt.

“What you gotta do is rip out that ass, boy,” he instructed me. “And make sure you rip it deep too. A whore is a simple bitch, Gerald. They can’t be punished by no dick in the pussy, no matter how hard you try. You’ll be over there just’a pumpin and’a sweatin and they’ll peg you as weak and swear you’re in love. Besides, that pussy gets beat up all day long and they don’t even feel it. The nerve endings in that thing are long dead. You get up in there and call yourself beating a bitch with your bone and she’s liable to cock them legs wider and have you working like a trick.

“But that ASS is a whole different matter, son. If you bust that asshole open there won’t be no mistaking you for nothing but exactly what the fuck you are: A PIMP!

“Try it one time. Monster-fuck a bitch in the asshole and see what happens. I guarantee you she’ll get to turning tricks faster than a circus mouse, and the next time you tell her whimsical ass to do something she’ll be more than happy to hop right to it!”

I learned a lot from Skully Powers but unfortunately I didn’t learn it all in time. Puddin’ had taught me how to kill a man with my bare hands, but Skully taught me how to break a man’s spirit by stabbing him in the back. As it turned out, I caught a case behind a beautiful piece of pussy, and by the time I was smart enough to put Skully’s teachings into practice it was already much too late to save either of us.

Her name was China Doll, and she wasn’t no regular whore. She came banging on the back door late one night in the middle of a lightening storm, drenched to the skin and half-drowned. Skully had been happy to take her in. I had just turned seventeen and I had already been macking bitches for almost half my life. But this here girl was like nothing I had ever seen before.

For one thing, there was an angel-like quality about her and she didn’t look grimy enough to be in the life. Instead of that used-up, weary look that lived in every whore’s eyes, China Doll looked just like a little brown Indian. She was shy and sweet, and didn’t look like she had ever so much as looked at a dick before, let alone ever put one in her mouth.

Of course I had already fucked nearly every hoe in the house. They all loved me because I was a baby in the game and I took the time to make ’em cum. Skully told me to cut that shit out because it was a true sign of weakness. “A real mack never considers a whore’s pleasure, Gerald. Them bitches is on the clock! The only one bustin a nut should be you!”

But China Doll was different from all the rest. To me she looked like the stuff of my dreams. Her skin was smooth and cinnamon-colored, and she had long wavy hair. Her brown eyes were wide and slanted, and even surrounded by a house full of chicks with luscious titties and beautiful asses, her prime body stood out like a shining jewel.

I claimed her right from the jump. Drooling, I told Skully she was mine and said I’d pay for her room and board and her bed fees too.

“You gon’ wanna think real hard about that, son,” Skully warned me as he toked on an expensive cigar. We were cruising around our little country town in his shiny new car catching stares of envy from square niggas and honkies too.

“Bitches gotta work hard to lay up in the sheets in my joint, and you know my pockets can’t never come up short. Remember,” he pointed his thick finger at me, “you don’t ever wanna play yourself outta position over a piece of ass, Gerald. Never.”

“But she ain’t in the life real deep like that, Skully,” I protested. “You heard her when she told us that.”

“And you believed her?”

I just sat there sweating on my nose and swelling up inside.

“A’ight.” Skully shrugged, maneuvering his whip down the block. He stuck his arm out the window and knocked the ash off his cigar with a flick of his finger. “You’ll learn. One day you gone hafta reach down inside ya drawers and figure out who’s the hoe and who’s the pimp!”

I didn’t wanna hear none of that shit. Skully was talking about them other bitches who burnt up the sheets flatbacking, not about my lil brown Indian girl. I was young and dumb and China Doll stroked my heart. Fuck old-ass Skully. I was willing to do whatever the fuck I had to do to keep that nigga paid off, just as long as my pretty lil China Doll didn’t have to lay on her back and spread those stunning legs for no other nigga but me.

She gathered up her few belongings and came upstairs to sleep in my bed. I hadn’t put my trust in a woman since I was five-years-old, but right away I trusted her. She laid back and let me do whatever I wanted, just the way I liked it. She was a little lady about it too, and she didn’t fuss when I wanted go at it all night long. Best of all, China Doll didn’t fuck with the fakeness of a whore, but she sure knew things that made me feel like a man.

I got drunk just looking at her. Her titties were the size of small honey-dew melons and her perfect nipples stood out at least an inch. My lips couldn’t get enough of them and it felt like I spent hours sucking on those thangs like I was her newborn baby.

Our sexual attraction was off the damn roof and we fucked like dogs in heat. I was young and cock-strong and it was nothing for me to bust a piece of that ass every single night. Sometimes day and night.

Me and China Doll kept my sheets funky and cummed up, and sexually we did everything together under the damn sun.

Well, except that one thing.

“Go down…” China Doll moaned and pressed against my shoulders as she scooted up in the bed. I had been licking them pretty titties for days and massaging her slick pussy with my fingers, and right now she was dripping wet and ready for more.

“Down, Gerald,” she insisted softly, gaping her legs wider as she pushed me lower. I slid my lips down her tight belly and over the pit of her navel. I was at the edge of her forest and her lil Indian pussy hairs were real soft and curly.

“Down,” she whimpered, yanking my ears as she humped up at my face. “Down!”

I raised my head as I moved down even lower and stared into the cavern of her glistening snatch. That pussy was two inches away from my face but instead of opening my mouth I froze and got caught in the grip of my memories...and I couldn't do it.

Before long the hot lust me and China Doll shared turned into real love and we started making big plans for our future. The south was played out, we both agreed on that. All the happenin cities with big-time opportunities were up north, so that’s where we wanted to be. We bought us a big ceramic bank we called Piggy and started stashing away every dime we could find. The minute we filled it up we were gonna blow Skully’s joint and never look back.

I still put in work for Skully around the whorehouse, but almost every dollar I earned went right back to him to pay for China Doll’s bed fees. She offered to get a job working in town but I didn’t want no other men looking at her so I took a job at the lumberyard hauling wood every other day. The work was dirty and backbreaking, but I was cool with it. Like I said, whatever the fuck I had to do to turn a dollar and keep my woman off her back, I was willing to do it.

Soon woodcutting season was just about over and the lumberyard was slowing down. I showed up one day to work a full shift, and instead they sent me home after just three hours. I got back to the house and opened the door to my room expecting to find China Doll looking at a magazine or polishing her pretty toes, but instead my baby was on her knees in the doggy-position, face down, ass up, spittin’ sixteen bars of a whore’s rap and grinding her sugary twat just like a natural hoe.

“Fuck me, Daddy! Yeah, this your pussy so just tell me what to do with it! Ooooh, Daddy, don’t beat me so good! I’ma listen and do right the next time, I swear I will! Just keep fuckin’ me like you fuckin me, Daddy, and I’ll do whatever you say. I’ma bring home ALL your money, Daddy. I’ma make you rich with this pussy! I swear I will! I swear I will! I swear I will...

I stood in that doorway dumbfounded like a muthafucka.

A big black muscle-bound nigga had his dick jammed up in my baby from behind, riding her deep and pounding her down. He was thrusting and pumping. His shiny black ass cheeks were moving like a piston. He rose up on his powerful forearms and snapped his hips, pushing deep inside her pussy as he bent his neck and slobbered all over her back.

My young eyes clearly saw, but my young mind just couldn’t fuckin conceive.

“Sk-Sk-Skully?” I stuttered.

Slowly, that big nigga turned his head and locked me in his evil glare. He kept right on fucking her as he grilled me, like he was gonna take his own sweet time coming up outta my pussy. He slapped her on the ass and dicked her real hard a few more times until he got his nut, then he yanked her pretty hair and grunted loudly. His wet dick slid outta her with a slurping sound, and he backed up off her and swung his powerful legs over the side of my bed.

China Doll rolled over and clutched the sheet up over her luscious breasts. Her eyes were expressionless as she looked past me, like she played and betrayed chump-ass niggas every day.

A wave of pain and rage rushed through me and I felt myself about to explode.

“What’s wrong, Gerald?” Skully said calmly. “Them white boys run you off the job early today or something?”

He reached down and snatched my pillow off the bed and dried his horse-sized dick with it, then he dabbed it at the sweat under his big purple balls and thoroughly wiped the crack of his ass.

Letting my pillow fall to the floor, Skully stretched and yawned and then bent down to pick up his drawers. His muscles rippled like black velvet ropes and he didn’t even look at me as he scratched them big nuts of his then stepped into his silk boxers like he didn’t have a care in the world. I was frozen in place as he pulled on his pants and slung his fancy shirt over his massive shoulders and then slid his feet into his shiny new shoes.

His snake eyes bit me as he walked toward the door.

“That’s some real tender pussy you got there, Gerald,” he said coldly, nodding at China Doll who had tossed the sheet aside and lay spread eagle in my bed with her bold titties on full display. “She takes it up the ass just fine too.”

I rushed him. Smashed my elbow into that muthafucka’s temple and drove my fist into his kidney. Pain exploded in my wrist. Like I had just pounded a frozen slab of beef. He rose up on his heels and wrapped them skull crusher hands around my throat and I damn near blacked out from the agony. Skully was much bigger than me. Stronger too. I wasn’t much more than a boy but that nigga was all man.

I punched wildly, struggling to break free as I gasped for air.

He laughed. “Who the fuck is you swinging on, Gerald? You must want me to beat yo ass like you one of the hoes!”

He muscled me backwards across the room until my shoulders slammed hard into the wall. Pictures rattled on their hooks and Piggy tipped off the shelf and went crashing down to the floor, exploding in a tornado of silver change and colorful ceramic glass.

Ignoring the mess Skully let go of my neck with one hand and smashed me in the face with his clenched, iron fist.

“S’the matter?” he taunted me as I grunted in pain. A hot stream of blood shot from my busted nose and ran down my throat. “You cranky cause I got up in that pussy, boy?”

I swung at his chin. He blocked my punch easily and clobbered me again.

“You too soft for the pimp game, nigga! Fuck wrong wit’ you? Letting this stank hoe lay up in ya bed and hustle you like a trick! I know I taught you better’n that! How many times I gotta tell you there ain’t no such thing as an ex-hoe, boy? This ain’t a grind you can live part-time.”

A strangled cry rose in my chest. I was gonna kill this muthafucka. Not because I thought he was lying, but because I knew he was spitting the truth.

“A’ight, calm down now, son,” Skully laughed as he tagged me in the face again and split my bottom lip open with a haymaker. “I done got me some pussy now let’s go get something to eat.”

I came at him hard again, pinching, snapping my teeth, trying to knee him in the nuts; fighting dirty the way he had taught me.

He jumped back and held his rock-hard fist threateningly in the air. “You too light in the ass to keep eating these right hooks, son. Why you wanna fight me anyhow? Because I “skullied” your hoe? Hell, I didn’t fuck that pussy outta existence! There’s still enough of that stank trim leftover for you and the next hundred niggas too!”

I caught him with a left to the temple and he reached out and pimp-smacked the shit outta me. My face burned with fire as I tucked my chin low and tried to head butt him, and he nailed me with a body shot that almost caved in my ribs. I gasped and sucked for air. There wasn’t a muthafuckin sip to be found. I staggered over to the window choking and heaving and Skully charged after me, skipping up on his toes like he was chasing me around a boxing ring.

“All this time I been giving your black ass free lessons,” he taunted me, “And you still don’t know shit about handlin’ bitches!”

Skully let loose and rained down on me with a quick flurry of power punches. Jabs, uppercuts, and extreme body shots. He smashed me like a hammer coming down on a roach, and I felt myself growing weak and fading. But I refused to go out. I fought back with everything I had, but it just wasn’t enough. I knew it was over when he gripped me by the head and set me up for the knockout punch. Desperate, I ducked down low and bear-hugged him around his thighs, driving that thick muthafucka backwards with my last bit of strength. He responded with pounding blows to the back of my head and shoulders as he back-pedaled across the room, fighting to keep his feet up under him.

He was drilling my head and back hard enough to rattle my brains and knock out a kidney, but I knew if I turned him loose he would kill me. I tightened my grip and drove against him even harder, and adrenaline sent us both sailing across the room. We crashed hard into the closet door, splintering the cheap wood and damn near tearing out the frame.

The force of the impact slammed Skully’s head and shoulders half-way through the wood. I heard him grunt and then his whole body shuddered. My head was buried in Skully’s gut, and suddenly his arms went limp at his sides.

Still bent over hugging his waist, I peeked up at him fearful of the killer blows that I just knew were gonna rain down on me next.

And that’s when I saw it.

Skully’s chin was on his chest and his mouth was slack. A thin trickle of blood had escaped his parted lips and was sliding down into his trimmed beard. I blinked a few times and took a closer look. That nigga’s eyes were wide open, but he wasn’t seeing a goddamn thing.

Dead silence hung in the air until China Doll sat up and scurried to the foot of the bed and stared at us. She sucked in her breath and then hollered at the top of her lungs, “Oh, shit muthafucka! That nigga’s dead! You killed him, Gerald! You fuckin’ KILLED him!”

I stood all the way up and stared into Skully’s vacant eyes in horror. The long metal coat hook that had impaled his skull still had China Doll’s slip hanging from it. It had punched straight through the back of his head, and I could just make out the pointed silver tip tryna poke out through his right temple.

My mouth dried up and I trembled inside. That nigga was dead, all right. I had killed him. I sure the fuck had.

I knew exactly what was coming next, and I made up my mind that before they came and took me away there was one last thing I had to do. I turned toward that ugly bitch China Doll and started unbuckling my belt. If I was gonna pay for my crimes then this lying-ass whore was gonna pay for hers too.

Mack ya hoes, boy! Don’t you never let a bitch mack you!

I put my paws on China Doll like a natural macaroni. And with the approving eyes of Alabama’s favorite pimp watching me from the closet door where he was hung up like a winter coat, I beat the brakes off that filthy hoe and then I wrestled her down to the floor and skullied her black ass half to death!

From B4 the G-Spot: THE LEGEND OF GRANITE MCKAY

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Flashback Friday: Enjoy an excerpt from the notorious legend who started it all...

I watched my father kill a man when I was ten years old.

Puddin was wearing high heel shoes and a short denim skirt when he did it, and he choked the life outta that cat with nothing but his two bare hands.

The state of Alabama was poor and hardscrabble, and there was little tolerance for niggas in general, let alone a long-legged rusty nigga who dressed in skirts. Puddin had moved there when Mama started fooling around with her old boyfriend again, and although he wrote a few letters here and there, I hadn’t seen him since.

But he had rushed up to New York when Mama Stanfield called him to come save me, and once we were back down south my father got it set in his mind that no matter what life threw at us I was gonna get a good education. In our piss-poor neck of the woods that shit was almost impossible because we moved around a lot and I drifted from one lousy schoolhouse to the next.

Somehow Puddin came to know a flashy pimp called Skully Powers who lived in a good school district, and whether my father liked it or not, I ended up getting way more education than he had hoped for.

Skully was an ex-boxer who had made a gwap of money in the ring and then came back to his hometown and put together a stable of the sexiest hoes in the county.

Skully specialized in tricking out beautiful bitches, but he allowed Puddin to work outta his whorehouse for those rare, but profitable occasions when “that type” of customer came along.

As a kid I was fascinated by the happenings in the whorehouse, but as a schoolboy I couldn’t stand living there.

Puddin didn’t give a damn either way.

“I know them lil bastards in school be making fun of you ’cause of where we live, but don’t you give so much as a damn about what them lil fools say, Gerald! You got just as much right to be up at that schoolhouse as they do, you hear me? Stand up tall, dammit! You’s a McKay and you gots to get yourself a good education boy!”

The shit hit the fan early one morning while we were outside on Skully’s stoop. I was sitting on a milk crate watching Puddin cornrow a hoe’s hair when an old white trick stumbled outta the door holding his dick and hock-spit right in my father’s face.

“Get the fuck away from here you dirty faggot!” The old man hollered.

Puddin jumped up cussing and reached down in his stocking for his switchblade.

“Uh-uh, don’t you go starting no shit in my place!” Skully bust out the door and checked him as Puddin wiped the slimy spit outta his eyes. “You fuck around and run my customers off and you and Gerald gone have to pack it up and move it along. Fuck all that ‘good education’ shit you be talking.”

Puddin stayed mad as hell all day, and he was still mad when I convinced him to take me to the movie show later that night. We sat way up in the top seats and watched a black and white karate flick, and when we were leaving the theater damn if we didn’t run right into that old white trick again. But this time he was with two of his old white friends.

“You know what, Mister,” Puddin said, posting up his six-feet-seven inches and two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle in a flared denim skirt with yellow frills on the hem. “That was real disrespectful what you did to me earlier today in front of my son, you know. I didn’t appreciate that shit not one bit.”

That old cracker puckered his pink lips up to spit on my daddy for the second time that day but this time Puddin was ready for him. He caught that fucker by his throat before he could hawk up his spitball and he squeezed the shit outta the old man while raging quietly in his ear.

“You ain’t gone never spit on another long-dick black bitch like me never again, you old cracker bastard,” Puddin growled, standing gap-legged and steady in his high heels as he strong-armed the white man down to his knees.

“Poppa stop!” I yelled.

Beads of sweat formed on my father’s bare arms as his huge triceps and forearm muscles rippled and bulged with rage and power.

“Gerald,” Puddin said quietly as he kept right on choking, “When another man throws something in your face, whether it’s a piece of tissue or a hock of spit, then one of y’all oughtta be ready to die.”

“Poppa, no!”

“Get off him, nigga!” The man’s two friends jumped on Puddin’s back and started pounding at his head and shoulders and swinging wild blows, but no matter what they did he refused to turn that old fucker loose.

“Poppa!”

Blood ran into Puddin’s eye from where they busted him all upside his head, but he pinched his lips and tightened his grip and still refused to let go.

“Disrespecting me like that in front of my boy?” Puddin muttered with his nostrils flaring madly. “Cracker, I will snap your scrawny neckbone in two raggedy fuckin pieces!”

Them two old men swarmed all over my daddy but their frantic strength was no match for his fury. They tried to grab him in a head yoke but his chin was dug into his chest. They clawed at his eyes, but he closed them tight and snapped his teeth like a wild dog trying to rip off their fingers. They gave up fighting and tried to yank and pull their friend outta his grasp but Puddin had him locked down in a death grip.

I grabbed at my father’s arm and his rocked-up muscle felt like a truck tire. He put his knee in the man’s stomach and pressed all his weight down onto his choking hands. I cried out for him to stop, but Puddin was in a kill zone and he didn’t even hear me.

The old white man was turning blue now. I was close enough to smell the hot fear coming off him, and terror gripped me even harder when a hard stream of piss whooshed down his leg and his whole body started jerking and quivering.

His skin turned purple and a drop of blood slipped from his left nostril. His eyes rolled up in his head. His mouth went slack, and then he went into a slump.

The other two men were still fighting Puddin. Punching him and clawing at him.

But it was a useless fight because Puddin had already won.

Puddin went to prison and I was left in the care of a pimp named Skully Powers who ran a cathouse full of prime-pussied hoes. I was ten years old and a hopeless orphan. My good education had officially begun.

From B4 The G-Spot: THE LEGEND OF GRANITE MCKAY

Thought of the Day: Role Reversal! Booby done bumped his head...

So, sistas of the world are coming up strong in the bank these days, and it's not unusual for a woman to be jingling more coins than her man. For a long time I was in a situation like that and it didn't really bother me because my boo was a striver and I makes mine regardless.

But this recent news about broke-ass Booby calling for Keyshia to pay him spousal support (wtf?) AND for full custody of their kid kinda makes you think.

Ain't it bad enough when a clown can't juggle all of his balls, but demanding my money and trying to take my kid away from me too? Now dis is jus tew much! Booby da ex-baller musta tripped in the paint and bumped his head!

We all know Keyshia is gonna be great no matter what (do yall think she could play Candy Montana in the movie version of CANDY LICKER?) so my question for you today is this: Mama Bears of the world, what would you say if your baby daddy told you he wanted a monthly check and FULL CUSTODY of your kid?

Thought of the Day: I became a character outta one of my books....

I've been writing urban fiction for a pretty long time now. I've created dozens of female characters who go through mayhem and madness in my cautionary tales, and to be totally honest you can find some of my life in just about every one of them.

But lately I've been recognizing way too much of myself in one of my recent characters. I feel my pain transcribed in her, my frustrations with life. The way I handle men, love, pain, rejection, health, weight, disappointment, and plain old fuckin bad luck...my way is definitely her way.

Me and this character share a lot more than just the lifeblood that comes out of my pen. Some really shitty aspects of our backgrounds have merged, and our inner fears and conflictions, our changing moods, our isolation, our complicated approach to loving ourselves, our struggle to embrace our flaws...yeah, there's a whole lot of me in Diamond "Jewelz" Jordan from Empire State of Minez, and perhaps there's way too much of her in me too.

Like most women, Jewelz and I are both survivors. Chicks like us might get knocked down by the Chimp Charlies and Fat Donnies of the world, but we also climb back in the boxing ring of life, battered and bruised, but determined to fight for another day.

And we are still standing! We are still tall!

Love yourself and keep fighting!