Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 11- Momma Peaches

It's official. My ass is no damn good. But to tell the truth, after six decades of being on God's green earth, I'm okay with that. I am what I am, and if people don't like that shit, they can lick the crack of my ass. That's right. Not all of us senior citizens try to act like we're angels, crying and hollering in somebody's church five times a week and hoping that's enough to get God to forget about all the hell we done raised back in the day. Nah. I don't believe in faking the funk like that. I've done my dirt and haven't tried to wash it off.

I've also made some mistakes, terrible mistakes, but the way I see shit, that's the only way you're gonna learn. I've also been hardheaded about a lot shit, too. And that usually revolved around men. I've had them all-young, middle-aged, or old-because I've kept my body tight and right. And that's all most niggas want-that and a hot plate every now and again. I suck in a deep breath and then try to decide whether I want to satisfy my craving for a plate of flapjacks or stay right where I am. After all, the mattress is comfortable, the sheets are soft, and Cedric's thick-ass dick is hard as a brick and nestled nicely in my pussy. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have fucked my parole officer, but everybody must play the fool sometimes. Yeah, maybe I've played it more times than most, but last night I couldn't help myself. Once I made the connection that Cedric is the son of my first love, Manny, I had to have him.

Shit looking into the face of Manny's mini-me while I was nuttin' up was fuckin' sweeter than anything I could've ever imagined. It was almost like I was sixteen again. Cedric doesn't eat pussy like his daddy, but he sure as hell can fuck like him. Who would've guessed that knowing how to sling dick could be in someone's DNA? I chuckle at my scientific discovery, but when I hear my stomach rumble, I know that it's time to un-ass the bed. However, the moment I peel back the top sheet, Cedric stirs.

"Where you going?" Fuck. I get a little wetter hearing his deep bass up against my ear.

"To the kitchen." He chuckles. "Pancakes?"

"We call them flapjacks around here. What? You don't want any?"

"Now, what man have you ever known to turn down a hot plate first thing in the morning?" Cedric pulls me back by the shoulder so that I'm lying flat against the bed.

He stays lying on his side but props his head up on his folded arm.

"But I thought that we should talk first." I roll my eyes and pray that I don't have another one of those sensitive niggas who always wants to talk about feelings and what every fuck means in our relationship.

Shit I just went through that bullshit with my last lover, Arzell. He got hot because he wanted to marry me when everybody and they momma knows that my ass is already married.Yeah, my nigga, Isaac, might be behind bars, but fuck, whose man isn't nowadays?

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask flatly, and hope he picks up on my little attitude and drops the subject.

Cedric frowns. "What the hell do you think I want to talk about?"

This time I'm more dramatic when I huff out a long, frustrated breath.

"Oh. Damn. It's like that, huh?" He shakes his head and then rolls out of bed.

"Forget it. A nigga can take a hint."

Shit. This is the type of shit I want to avoid. "Wait."

I grab him by the wrist and pull back. "I didn't mean it like that," I lie.

"I'm just a grouch before breakfast." His sexy green eyes narrow and then scan my ass like a human lie detector.

"Yeah. Whatever." He jerks his wrist back.

"Squash it. I'll put in for you to be transferred to another PO first thing Monday morning."