I smile, leanin’ over to kiss her on her cum-crusted lips. “Well, if you wanna keep gettin’ this good dick, then you gonna need to learn how to handle it. And not be wastin’ a buncha time.”

“So, what you saying? You wanna start spending time together?”

Spendin’ time together? What the fuck? “Yo, ma, on some real shit. I ain’t checkin’ for you like that. And I’m definitely not lookin’ for nuthin’ serious; just some stress-free pussy from time to time, that’s it.”

“What, you got a girl or something?”

Hear we go with this shit, I think, grabbin’ the edge of her sheet and wipin’ my cum-slick dick off on it. She looks at me, frownin’. But I act like I don’t peep the shit. “Nah, I’m solo,” I say, pickin’ up my boxers that were tossed over in the corner of the room, then slippin’ them on. “But I gotta whole lotta friends.” I pull on my white tee, then reach into the front pocket of my True Religions and pull out my cell. I have forty-seven missed calls. The message envelope flashes, lettin’ me know I have voicemail. I stuff the phone back into my pocket.

“What’s a whole lot of friends?”

“Enough to keep my dick soaked,” I say, tryna keep from spazzin’ on her muthafuckin’ ass for bein’ so fuckin’ nosey. I can’t stand a bitch who yaks her fuckin’ jaws, askin’ me a bunch of dizzy-ass questions after I just finished servin’ her this dick.

“Hmmm,” she says, pausin’. I’m sure to try ’n figure out how many broads it’s takin’ to keep this pipe wet. She keeps her eyes on me, tiltin’ her head. “Well, if you so single, what’s your rush? Why you gotta leave?”