swear, she thought. “Hey, baby. How you doing? You wanna have some fun?” Candy licked her lips. In her line of business she went from mean to phony in zero point zero seconds. You always had to remain nice and humble when it came down to the business of tricking.
Candy stared the man up and down, gawking at his belly that hung way over his waistline. She was ready to vomit. She stared to walk off until she heard Blaze, feet away getting his pimp on. Turning around, she saw him spitting some game at another pimp’s hoe. If you could pimp on the next pimp’s bitch and take his hoe, then that hoe wasn’t loyal and you were that nigga.
“Bitch, that pussy was made for hoeing and a whole lot of blowing. Choose up and be a winner. Its Blaze’s way, baby,” Blaze urged.
The girl held her head to the ground and got out of dodge.
Candy stared Blaze in his eyes. It was like he was telling her she better get her ass in the truck and make his money. She quickly got in the truck with the fat white man that made her stomach turn. As they pulled up to the red light Candy turned her nose up. Her nostrils were filled with a foul odor. She turned in her seat and stared at the trick. “What you wanna do and how much you got?” Candy asked with a nasty attitude.
“Everything!” The white man cheesed.
“Everything? Do you got money for everything?” Candy questioned. She sure as hell didn’t want to do nothing with him. Jerking him off with her eyes closed was the most she wanted to do.
“How much?”
“$750 for everything,” Candy replied, praying that he didn’t have that sort of money to play with.
He nodded his head up and down agreeing.
“Then show me the money,” Candy huffed. “I don’t do nothing until I get my money up front.”
At the next red light the guy went into his pockets and pulled the money out.
Frowning, Candy counted the money and placed it in her bra. “Pull over in the nearest parking lot,” she instructed. All she could think about was loud music, fine niggas, and hella drinks. She couldn't remember the last time she had stepped out into somebody’s club and tonight she had an urge to go out and live life just a little.
The white guy sensed Candy’s attitude. It didn’t do anything to him but turn him on even more. In fact, he loved naughty little black girls; the naughtier for him the better. They pulled over into a dark, empty parking lot. Candy tossed him a condom and began lifting her skirt up in the air before sliding her thong to the side. Her mind had been made up. She wasn’t sucking his ass off no matter how much he paid her to do so.
“Wait… ain’t you going to suck?” he questioned.
“Hell no!” Candy snapped. She couldn't digest the fact of her moving his belly to the side which would make her consume even more of the foul odor that she was trying her hardest not to smell.
“Well at least get it hard,” he replied while grabbing Candy’s hand.
Candy snatched her hand away. “No. Let’s fuck and get it over with. I got places to be,” she huffed.
“Please Mommy. I will be a good boy, Mommy. Please.” The white man began to cry.
“I know this fat motherfucker ain’t calling me Mommy or fucking crying, she thought. This fucking fat sucker.” Candy turned around to see that the man was balled up into a fetal position. It didn’t seem possible in the tight space but it was so. Seeing him crying creeped the hell out of Candy. Her instincts told her to get the hell out of there because something was wrong with the creep that sat next to her crying like a child.
The man’ name was Greg. He also went by the names Peter, Jim, Tom and many more. He had a multiple personality disorder, was bipolar, and also suffered from depression just to name a few of his mental illnesses. His mother and father had molested him ever since he could remember.
Candy reached for the door handle and noticed there wasn’t one. The man had a weird look on his face and began
Candy stared the man up and down, gawking at his belly that hung way over his waistline. She was ready to vomit. She stared to walk off until she heard Blaze, feet away getting his pimp on. Turning around, she saw him spitting some game at another pimp’s hoe. If you could pimp on the next pimp’s bitch and take his hoe, then that hoe wasn’t loyal and you were that nigga.
“Bitch, that pussy was made for hoeing and a whole lot of blowing. Choose up and be a winner. Its Blaze’s way, baby,” Blaze urged.
The girl held her head to the ground and got out of dodge.
Candy stared Blaze in his eyes. It was like he was telling her she better get her ass in the truck and make his money. She quickly got in the truck with the fat white man that made her stomach turn. As they pulled up to the red light Candy turned her nose up. Her nostrils were filled with a foul odor. She turned in her seat and stared at the trick. “What you wanna do and how much you got?” Candy asked with a nasty attitude.
“Everything!” The white man cheesed.
“Everything? Do you got money for everything?” Candy questioned. She sure as hell didn’t want to do nothing with him. Jerking him off with her eyes closed was the most she wanted to do.
“How much?”
“$750 for everything,” Candy replied, praying that he didn’t have that sort of money to play with.
He nodded his head up and down agreeing.
“Then show me the money,” Candy huffed. “I don’t do nothing until I get my money up front.”
At the next red light the guy went into his pockets and pulled the money out.
Frowning, Candy counted the money and placed it in her bra. “Pull over in the nearest parking lot,” she instructed. All she could think about was loud music, fine niggas, and hella drinks. She couldn't remember the last time she had stepped out into somebody’s club and tonight she had an urge to go out and live life just a little.
The white guy sensed Candy’s attitude. It didn’t do anything to him but turn him on even more. In fact, he loved naughty little black girls; the naughtier for him the better. They pulled over into a dark, empty parking lot. Candy tossed him a condom and began lifting her skirt up in the air before sliding her thong to the side. Her mind had been made up. She wasn’t sucking his ass off no matter how much he paid her to do so.
“Wait… ain’t you going to suck?” he questioned.
“Hell no!” Candy snapped. She couldn't digest the fact of her moving his belly to the side which would make her consume even more of the foul odor that she was trying her hardest not to smell.
“Well at least get it hard,” he replied while grabbing Candy’s hand.
Candy snatched her hand away. “No. Let’s fuck and get it over with. I got places to be,” she huffed.
“Please Mommy. I will be a good boy, Mommy. Please.” The white man began to cry.
“I know this fat motherfucker ain’t calling me Mommy or fucking crying, she thought. This fucking fat sucker.” Candy turned around to see that the man was balled up into a fetal position. It didn’t seem possible in the tight space but it was so. Seeing him crying creeped the hell out of Candy. Her instincts told her to get the hell out of there because something was wrong with the creep that sat next to her crying like a child.
The man’ name was Greg. He also went by the names Peter, Jim, Tom and many more. He had a multiple personality disorder, was bipolar, and also suffered from depression just to name a few of his mental illnesses. His mother and father had molested him ever since he could remember.
Candy reached for the door handle and noticed there wasn’t one. The man had a weird look on his face and began
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