adult conversation: September 2002 Archives

"You take my cigarettes nigga?"

"Wha-"

"Don't get to stuttering mutha fucka. Did you take my cigarettes?"

Everyone who had been talking in the room up to that point shut up. Pusha was standing in front of Smoka's chair, his fists balled angrily at his sides.

"I didn't take nothing Pusha."

"You lying to me nigga?"

"N-n-no, I'm not lyin'."

"I think he lyin' Pusha," Tiny said. Pusha shot him a look and he shut up. Slim and I were seated on the love seat, closest to Pusha and Smoka. I could see that Smoka was scared; he was shaking like a leaf. No one in the room was saying a word. Someone had muted the television.

"You take my scale nigga?"

"What scale," Smoka asked dumbly. Pusha slapped him with the open palm of his hand.

"What scale nigga? You gonna try to play me now?"

"I ain't take nothin' Pusha." He sounded as if he was begging.

"There were three stones and a hand scale on this table earlier nigga and now they gone. Don't nobody smoke dope but you. So I'ma ask you again, you take my shit nigga?"

Smoka didn't say a word.

"You been gettin high nigga?" He leaned forward and sniffed at Smoka.

"I been smoking sticks."

"Stand yo bitch ass up nigga." Smoka made an attempt to stand and Pusha grabbed him by the coller, yanking him the rest of the way up. With his foot Pusha kicked the chair away. He and Smoka were standing toe to toe. Smoka was attempting to not look afraid, but he was sweating. Pusha looked him up and down, an expression of contempt on his face. "Empty your pockets you punk mutha fucka."

"What?"

"Nigga I said empty your mutha fuckin' pockets. " He took a step towards Smoka. Smoka took a step back and found himself against the living room wall. Pusha stepped forward and grabbed a hold Smoka's pants. He stuck one hand in each front pocket and snatched as hard as he could. The ripping noise was loud in the silent room and the contents of Smoka's pockets scattered on the floor.

Smoka bent down in an attempt to retrieve the lost items, but Pusha shoved him aside. I leaned forward on the love seat to see what had fallen: a smashed pack of Newports, two $20 stones, a metal hand scale, a sherm stick and three lighters. Pusha picked all the items up and spread them out on the living room table.

"Get your ass over here," he commanded. Smoka walked over to the table, his eyes staring down at the floor in shame. Everyone in the room was looking at him - me, Slim, Tiny, Yvette - and he was aware of it. Pusha held the cigarettes in Smoka's face. "Are these my fuckin' cigarette's nigga?"

"I bought them Pusha, Them ain't yours."

"You bought them? Nigga you was just over here an hour ago begging me to sell you a $2 hit. Where you get money for rocks, sticks and cigarettes?"

"I had some money."

"You had some money? So you was trying to hustle me?" He raised his fist.

"No! No. I wasn't trying to hustle you. When I came the first time I didn't have no money. Then I got some. That's how I got the stuff."

"Where you get money from nigga?"

"I washed some cars down at the car wash for some people."

"Nigga, you were only gone for an hour. I'm 'sposed to believe that shit?"

"Pusha!" Yvette had been leaning over the table looking at the contents of Smoka's pockets. Her hands were wrapped around a blue lighter with yellow and white daisies on it. "This my damn lighter! My initial carved in it!"

She held the evidence out to Pusha to investigate. He took it from her and flipped it in his hand so that he could see the "Y" scrawled on one side of the lighter. He looked at the lighter then looked up at Smoka.

"Nigga, you stole the homegirl lighter?"

"I didn't steal nothing Pusha, I found it."

"Where you find it at?"

"Outside on the brick wall." As he said this, Smoka flashed Yvette a pleading look. Yvette rolled her eyes at him and turned to Pusha.

"Pusha, that's my lighter. I may have left it outside, but he didn't have no business taking it. Fucking crackhead." She flopped onto the sofa. Everyone turned their attention to Pusha. He picked up the two stones, the sherm stick and put them in his pocket. He left the lighters on the table and grabbed the smashed package of cigarettes.

"Come outside Smoka." He marched through the front door with Smoka trailing slowly behind him. The rest of us jumped up to follow and watch the action. Pusha paced around smoka in a circle.

"Nigga, don't you never come to my house stealin' again, you understand me?"

Smoka nodded his head. Pusha shoved the package of cigarettes at him.

"Here." Smoka took the cigarettes and, not having any pockets to place them in, held them in his hand.

"Smoka, you gonna get away easy this time. I'm even going to get you high tonight."

The look of relief on Smoka's face quickly turned to one of surprise. He grinned at Pusha and nodded his head gratefully.

"Wait right there," Pusha said and turned towards the house. He walked three paces then turned suddenly and punched Smoka in the jaw. Smoka crumbled to the ground.

The rest of us let out a collective, "Oh shit!"

As Pusha stormed past us and back into the house Tiny said, "Damn. He just dope fiend a dope fiend."

No one laughed.

Relax

edit: i added the name of this young man to prevent confusion. this experience is not with Pusha.

English Boy and I were lovers for the better part of two years. Compliments to each other both in bed and in the scene, we had a bond that was like best friends with benefits. Indeed, we had the best of each other. I knew that in his hometown 400 miles from our college town there was a girlfriend he exchanged letters and long distance phone bills with. I didn't mind it so much. When we were together he made me feel like there was no one else but he and I. He pretended to ignore all of my male "friends". We coexisted in our own relationship dynamic and that was all that mattered.

During winter snows that prevented anyone from moving anywhere and held us all captive in our homes, we would turn the heat in the house up high enough to make it summertime and lounge around in our underwear drinking sweet tea, making love in the soft afternoon light like lovers on a honeymoon. It is on these long, comfortable weekends that I loved him most.

We are lying in bed next to each other, he and I. He’s on his back, completely relaxed with his legs stretched straight out. His hands are folded behind his head and his attention is focused on Sportscenter, which is playing on the television. I lay on my side, facing him. One arm is bent under my head and the other rests along my side. As the replays of the day’s greatest moments in sports are filtered through to us, he provides his own personal commentary while I stare at his long eyelashes.

“You have really long eyelashes for a guy.”

“I know. It’s a curse. They always get in my eye.”

As if to punctuate his point, he rubbing his eye.

“See, you jinxed me.”

I lie there and watch him rub first his left eye and then his right, rubbing them until he feels that the foreign body is out. He turns his head towards me.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m not staring at you. I’m thinking about something.”

“What are you thinking about?”

I shrug my shoulders and scoot closer to him, placing my hand on his stomach. His scent is a mixture of bath soap and fabric softener. I lean forward and sniff at him.

"I like the way you smell."

"I like the way you smell, " he says and pinches me on the thigh.

“I like the way your T-shirt smells. Like fresh laundry.”

“That’s snuggle baby.”

We grin at each other. I begin moving my hand in slow circles, rubbing his chest. He lets out a relaxed sigh.

“That feels good.”

“Mm hmm,” I murmur. My eyes are closed and I’m concentrating on the act of relaxing him.

"Are you trying to start something," he asks casually. I open my eyes.

"Nope. I know you're watching Sportscenter. Plus I want to hear the basketball scores."

After a few moments he reaches for the remote and turns the television off.

“Why did you turn it off?”

“Cause it’s distracting.”

I smile at him then because I think it’s cute. He smiles back at me and kisses me softly on the lips. He pulls me closer to him and I end up with my head resting on his shoulder, my hand continuing to rub his chest and his stomach. His stomach makes a noise - not a growl, but one of those weird noises stomachs make when there is no food in them. I reach my hand under his T-shirt and rub his stomach gently.

“Are you hungry?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Well, I can’t concentrate on anything right now because you’re touching me like that.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” He turns over on his side and faces me when he says this. We lie there looking at each other for a moment. He takes his hand and rests it on my hip. His fingertips drum lightly against my skin.

I’m wearing a tee shirt and a pair of granny panties. His fingers trace their way down to the band of my underwear and he rests them there with a curious look on his face.

“Did you start your period?”

“No, why?”

“Cause you usually only wear these when you are on it.”

“It’s laundry day.” I grin at him when I say this and then lean into him, burying my face in his chest.

His fingertips start a slow crawl down my hip and across my thigh. His free arm comes around to encircle me and he rolls us over so that I am on my back and he is lying on top of me. I open my eyes then and look at him; he’s looking back at me. His hands are underneath me; he has a light grip on my backside.

We lie still like that for a minute. The churn of the refrigerator in the kitchen is the only sound in the apartment aside from our breathing. I feel secure and relaxed in his arms. The weight of him on top of me is a familiar, comfortable feeling. He leans down and touches his lips to mine softly. I don’t move. My hands still rest under his shirt, pressed against his chest. He leans down and kisses me again. This time he lets his lips linger a little longer. He traces his tongue slowly over my lips before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth.

"Monique." He whispers it and my ear is filled with his warm breath, sending chills down my spine.

"What?" I whisper it back in a brief moment between kisses.

"Get naked." He doesn't whisper this time. He says it in a low voice then leans down and bites me on the nipple.

I laugh. "Yes sir," I say, saluting him. We both get up and remove what little clothing we are wearing.

I sit on the edge of the bed watching him fumble around in the nightstand for a condom. His butt is right in front of my face and for a brief moment I consider smacking him on it. My heavy hand against his bare ass would make a loud noise in the quiet room. It might hurt more than I intend it to and ruin the mood. I opt to kiss him on his bottom instead.

I do it using my tongue. My lips make contact first and then before I know it I have a section of his right ass cheek in between my teeth. I flick my tongue across it then pull back. It all happens rather quickly. I hear him gasp in surprise and then -

"Woman!"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

"I licked you on the butt."

"You licked me and you bit me. Cut that out."

"You didn't like it?"

"Yeah I liked it. Maybe too much. Stop that."

I laugh. "If you liked it, why should I stop?"

"I dunno, isn't it kinda weird for you to be doing stuff to my butt?"

"Why?"

He stands there for a moment and then shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know."

"You're being silly. Come here." I pull him towards me on the bed. He lies down beside me again and rub him on his chest. "You trust me right?"

"With my life."

"Okay. Turn over." He looks at me for a moment then does as I ask. I start off slow, kissing and licking and nibbling his back, slowly making my way down.

"That feels good."

"Mm hm." When my tongue reaches his ass he sucks in his breath and squirms a little. I don't stop.

"Relax, " I say, using the same combination of kissing and licking and nibbling until I've thoroughly covered both cheeks. He lies still, his hands under the pillow on which he rests his head, his body totally relaxed.

I seize my opportunity. I play my tongue around the hole and a sound I've never heard him make before leaves his throat.

"Should I stop?"

Hesitation. Then, "No."

I start playing with the hole again, this time with my finger. I try slipping it in, a little bit at a time. I feel him tense up.

"Relax baby, " I coax. I distract him by licking his balls and after a moment my finger is in. I can tell when I've hit the right spot because his dick gets rock hard.

We lie there like that - he on his stomach, his legs spread out and me beside him, biting his ass while my finger presses the money spot. He only allows me to stay there for a moment.

"Okay stop."

I do as he asks. He turns over and reveals to me the biggest hard on I have ever seen on him.

As he slips the condom on he says, "You worked for this girl. Come here."

He doesn't give me a chance to move. He grabs my legs and puts them on his shoulders. When he rams into me the first time I let out an involuntary yelp and he knows he's hit the spot. I can tell he's already worked up and once we get going I know it won't be long before he explodes.

And when his body shudders against mine and he whispers in my ear that I did this, that I made him this weak, I don't say a word.

We lie there in darkness, listening to each other breathe. He gets up to dispose of the condom. I go into the bathroom to wash my hands. When I climb back into the bed, he snuggles up against me and puts his arms around my waist. I can feel him hard against me and I giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."

Before long his soft snores let me know he's sleeping. His arm is still wrapped protectively around me and his breath is warm on the back of my neck. Whatever he's dreaming about must be pleasant because I can still feel him hard against me.

I smile in the darkness. Then I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

are you scared?

Lesson 2: Gently place the balls into the mouth and hummmmmmmmmmmm - NWA, "She Swallowed it (Just Don't bite It part 2)"

Did you miss part 1?

Pusha and I sit alone at the spot. I'm writing haiku in a notebook and he's playing GTAIII. We've already burned two blunts and our heads are lifted. Every once in a while I will lift my head up and try to help Pusha get through some obstacle on the game. The phone rings, people knock on the door looking for those who aren't there and life goes on all around us as we sit in our green haze.

There's a cd playing. The variety of music at the spot is not that great. We get our fill of gangsta rap over here. On this day we are listening to an old school joint, NWA's "Niggaz4Life". Pusha and I both know all the lyrics so it's our own private NWA concert in the middle of the living room.

"This is NWA's livest album besides that first joint, " Pusha says.

"Agreed. This one had all the cuts on it," I say as the opening to "Automobile" comes on the stereo. I start snapping my fingers and bobbing my head to the song and Pusha takes this as his cue to sing it karaoke style. He grabs the tray to start the process for rolling another blunt, weaving back and forth to the campy piano tune that is the songs track and sings:

You don't have to front on me dear. So why don't you just give that pussy here? If you be good to me, Oooh I'll be good to you and we'll both ride home in my automobile.

All that I want is a little puss
all that i want is just a little head
if you be good to me
ohhh i'll be good to you
and we'll both ride home in my automobile

Before he even gets to the halfway point I'm already on my back laughing my ass off. He doesn't let this stop him and continues singing it until I swat at him. Laughing, he works on rolling the blunt and lets Eazy finish the song on his own.

"Monique, I dedicate that song to you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't have to front on me." He laughs when he says it and gets up to dump the cigar guts in the trash can.

"I don't think I'm the one that's fronting. "

He pauses. "Whatchu mean?"

"Nothing." "Automobile" has finished and leads right into "She Swallowed It". I bob my head and sing the lyrics along with Ren. Pusha is looking at me hard because the lyrics are worse than the ones in the song he just finished and I know them all. Add to that the fact that I've gotten up out of my seat and I'm doing the money dance while I rap the lyrics and there you go. He stops me mid verse.

"Monique, sit your ass down before you get into some trouble over here."

"Some trouble?"

"Mm hmm." He can't properly respond because he's sealing the blunt. I still haven't learned to roll a blunt and I'm watching him do it.

"Pusha, you got some big ass lips."

"Yep. I can wrap them all the way around your big ass titties."

I roll my eyes. "There you go."

"For real. You got some big ones Monique."

"Uh, they are strapped in a holster that I have to wear wrapped around my shoulders and back. I think I know how big they are."

He laughs. "You should just let me see 'em one time."

"What?"

"Yeah, flash me a little skin. Just flip your shirt up real quick."

"Boy, please."

"Come on. Ain't nobody here but us. I ain't gonna try nothin'."

"The last thing I'm concerned with is you trying something."

"Then show me your titties."

"Show me your dick."

"If I take my dick out, we're fucking. If we ain't fucking, I'm not taking my dick out."

"Oh lord. Nevermind."

"You scared?"

"Of what? You're the one demanding I show you my breasts. What do I get for that?"

"I'll kiss them for you."

"Nigga, please. Ok?"

"Monique."

"What?"

"Just show 'em to me. "

"Nigga, fire up the blunt before it dries out."

He fires the blunt up and we smoke for a moment without talking. He takes the NWA cd off and I ask him to put in a Prince cd I brought. When he sits back down on the couch, he reaches out and smacks me on my thigh.

"Don't try to steal touches boy. That's high school shit."

"Oh girl, I was just hitting you on the leg. There wasn't anything behind it. Now if I had reached out like this - "

He palms my left breast. I gasp.

"Oh my god! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?"

I swat at him and he laughs.

"On the real though. What size bra do you wear?"

"Okay, are you like obsessed with my breasts?"

"No, I just wanna know. How come you ask a million questions and want answers and then a muthafuckah ask you some shit and you get all tight? What's up with that?"

"Okay you got me there, but I'm still not telling you. Ask something else."

"You suck dick?"

"Damn. Straight to the point right?"

"Do you?"

"I have."

"You have? The fuck that mean?"

"It means that I have. Whether or not I still do depends on the person involved." I wink at him.

"Oh. One of them. But you probably expect every dude to go down on you right?"

"Um no. Actually dudes who are quick to want to go down on me scare me. It means they do it to everyone. Do you go putting your mouth on everything you see?"

"Hell naw."

"Okay then. Neither do I."

"Aight then."

"And you lick ass."

"Uhhh..."

"Well you were the one who brought it up before."

"Have you ever licked a girl's ass before?"

"No."

"Liar."

"I haven't."

"Okay."

There is a thirty second gap in the conversation and we both sit staring in opposite directions.

"I have before."

"I knew you were a freak!" He says it like he's won money for a discovery. "Have you done it to more than one person?"

"I'm not answering deeply personal or probing questions. Just general ones."

"You like doing it?"

"Well, I'm not going to run out and tape commercials singing it's praises but when I witnessed what it could do for my partner I added it to my repertoire."

"Ugh! You stick your tongue in the ass?"

"I'm not telling you what I do."

"That means yes."

"Do you wanna find out?"

'Do I wanna find out what?"

"What I do when I'm feelin' on yo booty."

'Naw cause if you try to stick something in my ass I'm going to have to dope fiend you."

"Why would you do that?"

"I told you. Ain't nobody stickin' nothing in my ass."

"You think if you like having your ass stimulated that makes you gay?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Do you like sex with men?"

"No."

"So I'm not drawing the correlation here. You'll have to break it down."

"You was talking about sticking a dildo in my ass. "

"Well, I was talking about you letting me fuck you. As opposed to you fucking me."

"You can fuck me. Get on top and ride this dick. I like that shit."

"Not quite the same thing. I'm talking about you letting me fuck you in the ass."

"And you are talking some straight up bullshit."

"We can take baby steps. I can use my fingers first. Get you used to the idea. You've had a finger in your ass before right?"

"Right?"

"That was while she was sucking my dick, I told you."

"Yeah, but you said she licked your ass too. She only has one tongue. That means she had to be licking one thing or the other at a time and you specifically said you liked the ass licking. That means she spent some amount of time licking your ass for you to even have enough of an experience to say you like it."

"So?"

"So if you liked having it licked, and you liked having her finger in there while she was sucking your dick, why wouldn't you let me stick a strap on in there?"

“That’s different. A strap on is a fake dick. I don’t want a dick in my ass. I don’t mind a finger or even a tongue. But as far as a dick no. I don’t want a dick in my ass.”

“Because you think it means you’re gay?”

Before he has a chance to answer there is a knock on the door. I get up and open it. Slim and Tiny stand on the other side waiting to be let in.

"What's up Pusha nigga?"

"Nothin niggas, what's crackin?"

I don't attempt to start the conversation with them there. Instead we have general conversations about sports and music and talk shit over rounds of Knockout Kings on PS2. When it's time for me to, I pull Pusha aside and convince him to give me a gram of chronic for free. He packages it up and walks me to the door. He stands outside, watching me get into my car.

"Monique, you a manipulator."

"What do you mean?"

"You just are."

"How am I manipulating you?"

"I just gave you free weed didn't I?"

"Oh dang nigga. You want $20 dollars?"

"No. I don't need it. I'm just saying."

“You’re just saying what?”

“Nothin’.”

He turns to walk back into the house. I close the car door and start the ignition. As he nears the front door he turns and looks at me one last time, shaking his head.

And I drive away, knowing he wasn't talking about the weed.

did you like it?

We are sitting around the glass table at the spot. Pusha is sitting opposite me rolling a blunt. Carefully, he breaks up the cigar and pours the guts into the small plastic trashcan that sits between his legs. Afroman is sitting on my right with his back to the table. The playstation control rests in his palms and his concentration is on the television screen in front of him. I sit with my notebook, attempting to not let the session turn into an opportunity for procrastination. Missy’s “Work It” is blaring on the radio and we all nod our heads to the music. I sing the chorus each time she gets to it, dancing in my seat.

The song comes to an end and Afroman gets up to put on a new cd. In the brief moments of silence before the cd starts, Afroman begins telling Pusha about an episode he had the night before involving some young thing from around the way. I am half listening to the boy talk, half writing haiku in my notebook and only catch bits and pieces of the conversation as it flies by me.

" ... big ass titties man. I mean dayum! I was lovin' that shit."

"Dayum my nigga, like that?"

"Dog. I'm telling you. Then .... lickin’.... suckin’.... the bomb."

"Word nigga?"

"Word. Then she tried some freaky shit."

'What?"

"My nigga. I was laying on the bed and she was sucking my ... and then she ... and I was like bitch get off my ass!"

They have my attention. I put my pen down and turn to face them.

"Wait, what?"

I slip into the conversation as if I had been there all along. Afroman keeps right on flowing.

"That bitch stuck her tongue in my ass."

"Oh."

I had thought it seemed much worse than that.

I suspect there is more to the story and I prod him to continue.

"And?"

"I just told her to stop."

"You were with some girl who was licking your ass and you told her to stop?"

My disbelief shows in my voice.

"Yeah man."

I probe.

"Why?"

"Because it felt weird."

I probe again.

"Weird like you felt uncomfortable or weird like just a weird feeling overall that gave no pleasure."

"Weird like I didn't want no bitch licking my ass."

Pusha looks at me and I look at him and we grin at each other. Pusha turns the volume down on the stereo and the room grows silent.

"Dog, tell the truth, you didn't like that shit?"

Pusha is looking at his homeboy in disbelief. Afroman doesn't answer. Pusha turns to me.

"Monique, you like getting licked on your ass?"

"Nigga do you?"

I say it quickly, deflecting off me to him.

He volleys back to me.

"I'm asking you."

I give in.

"Yeah, I like it."

He laughs knowingly.

“I knew you did. Monique, you ain’t nothing but a big ole freak. I bet you like kinky sex.”

I start laughing. This isn’t the first time Pusha has tried to engage me in a conversation like this. Call it feeling out the territory. He’s propositioned me more than once. We've talked shit with each other before and I know that he is interested in a round or two with me. I know this and I use this knowledge to my advantage because it works for me in certain situations. I know that he thinks sex between the two of us is inevitable. Call it the wearing down factor. He’s under the impression that if he continues talking to me about it and drawing me out I will fall out of my panties.

“Don’t laugh girl. Answer the question.”

"You didn't ask one."

"He said are you a freak."

Afroman has found his tongue. Apparently he was going to try and turn the conversation on me. I recognize this move and I don't let him get away with it. Pusha is way ahead of me and cuts in before I can get my retort out.

"Aww nigga, you scared to admit you like it when a bitch lick your ass."

He says it and stares at Afroman, daring him to open his mouth again. Afroman sits silently for a moment, stewing. Pusha gives me a look that says, he's gonna get mad and leave and I silently nod my head in agreement. Afroman has gotten up from the table and is busy changing disks on the PS2.

I grin and glance over at Pusha. His eyes are focused on the blunt he’s rolling but a huge grin is spread across his face. It becomes apparent that we are both trying to hold in our laughter. I look at Afroman again and I can feel him squirming under the weight of the question in the air.

“What?”

He says it in an exasperated tone, like he wants us to let the subject die. We do for the time being. I turn my attention away from Afroman and towards the blunt that Pusha is rolling. He's putting the finishing touches on it and I'm ready to blaze it. As he digs in his pockets for a lighter, his attention is focused on me again. I get nervous; I can tell from the look on his face that he's up to no good. I do my best to feign a look of innocence as I turn to watch Afroman play NBA Street.

"Monique."

I hear Pusha call my name but I try and pretend that the music is too loud and the PS2 is too loud and I don't hear him. He says it again, this time louder.

"Monique."

A giggle escapes my lips and my cover is blown. I turn my head toward him and give him a look of exasperation.

"What Pusha?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

“Are you a freak?”

“Define freak.”

“You don’t know what a freak is?”

“I know what I consider to be freaky, but that might not match with what you consider to be freaky.”

‘How do you like your sex?”

I start laughing again.

“In a bed mostly,” I say to him matter-of-factly.

“I think you likes to get down.”

I grin, he grins and we are sitting there like co-conspirators, cheesing at each other.

Afroman is playing PS2 and trying to pretend he's not listening.

“Where’s the lighter,” Pusha asks after a moment.

I dig through my purse and produce one, passing it to him to light the blunt. He places the blunt in his mouth, flicks the lighter and holds the flame to the end of the blunt, all without taking his eyes off me. I know this because I am not taking my eyes off him. The stare down has begun.

"So whatchu like?"

He asks it in a voice that is straining from the effort of him trying to hold all the smoke in his lungs and talk to me at the same time. It's that airless rasp that comes with the strain of trying to prevent your lungs from expelling a foreign gas (smoke?) out of them.

"What do I like?"

I ask it even though I know exactly what he means. I'm stalling and he can tell. He starts laughing again and takes another hit of the blunt before passing it to me.

"What's your favorite position?"

I manage to let that one hit me without causing me to choke on the smoke I'm inhaling. I look at him and twist my lips into a grin without opening my mouth. My attention returns to the blunt. I take two more hits then pass the blunt back to him. I take my time blowing out the smoke I'm holding.

"My favorite position? Probably doggy style."

"I knew it."

He nods his head and passes the blunt to Afroman. Afroman takes it without looking at him and continues to play PS2. He wants no part of this conversation.

"You knew what?" I say it and make eye contact with him. He’s looking back at me.

"I knew you liked to get hit from the back." He says it with authority, taking the blunt from Afroman and passing it to me.

"Ok, how would you know something like that?"

"You can just look at you and tell."

I roll my eyes to the top of my head.

"You ever had a nigga tell you he need his tennis shoes on to fuck you from behind?"

"Uh ... no, what the fuck?" I say this as flashbacks of "She's Gotta Have It" play in my head.

"That nigga ain't hittin' it right then."

I laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"When a nigga is hittin' it from behind, do you just sit there and take it or do you throw that ass back at him?"

I laugh hard.

"I help him out a bit."

"Exactly. Nigga, I'ma tell you to scoot to the edge of the bed. I'ma put my tennis shoes on and stand behind you and hit it like that. My shoes are gonna provide traction so when you get ready to throw that ass back, I ain't going nowhere."

I lose it at this point and begin laughing so hard I can hardly catch my breath.

"I ain't lyin. I'm serious than a muthafuckah."

"And for some reason, I believe you."

I turn the stereo back up in an effort to steer the conversation in another direction. He turns it back down and looks at me again.

"You ever been with a girl Monique?"

“What the fuck? Did we suddenly engage ourselves in a game of 20 questions?”

“Just answer the question.”

"Damn, you are getting all extra personal, ain't you?"

He laughs.

"Naw, I'm not. I’m just trying to find out what you like. You can tell that you are into sex. The norm probably doesn't get it for you. I want to know what does."

"Ohhh. Okay." I make the sarcasm apparent when I say it.

"What?"

He gives me a confused look.

"Nothing." I say it and shrug my shoulders, picking my pen up again.

"What?" He uses the same exasperated tone Afroman used earlier.

"How can you tell that I'm into sex?"

"So you are?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm asking what that looks like to you."

"I mean, just from conversations we've had before and just how you act sometimes, I can tell you a freak."

I laugh.

"Okay Pusha."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Damn negro, nothing. Just tripping off you and your questions.”

"I'm just asking. Have you been with a girl before? Shit, if you have, ain't nothing wrong with it. "

"Oh, I know nothing is wrong with it. I just wanna know why you want to know."

"Cause, damn we homies. I'm just asking. Besides, I might be trying to hook you up with some freaky shit, you never know."

“So now you think I’m a freak?”

"Shit, it's a good thing. The downest broads I been with have been freaks. They like to have the most fun and they are the ones that don't get hung up. The ones that's not freaky - that's into "makin' love" - they ain't down for a lot of freak shit cause they don't want you to think they a ho."

"I wouldn't call myself a freak. I would just say that I'm a sexual person. I like sex, I enjoy having it and I think it should be uninhibited and an enjoyable experience for both parties."

"Damn. You broke that shit down, all textbook style and shit."

I laugh.

"That's just how it is for me. I mean, what do you consider a freak? What's freaky?"

"You ever been with a girl that was like a dude?"

"You mean one that looks like a dude?"

“No. I mean one that likes to play the part. Strap on and everything.”

“No.”

“But you have been with a girl before?”

“Yeah.”

"So what did y'all do? Just lick on each other?"

"Damn, I'm not gonna tell all of that. Next question."

"Would you ever use a strap on?"

"Yeah."

"You would? I mean would you use it to fuck another girl?"

"Hell yeah I would."

He finds this amusing and starts laughing.

"You would beat it up Monique?" Both he and Afroman laugh at this. Afroman pauses the PS2 so that he can turn and face us. The conversation is getting deeper.

"Why nigga, you want to watch?"

"Hell yeah. I wanna be there and maybe join in on the action." He and Afroman give each other high fives.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Hm."

"What?"

"Would you let me strap on for you?"

"Whatchu mean?"

"I mean could I use it on you?"

"Hell naw!"

"Why not?"

"Look here."

His face has a serious look, no smile, not even a glimmer of a grin. I try to look at him just as seriously as he is looking at me.

"Why not?" I ask it again.

"Cause I'm a real nigga."

"What?"

"I'm a real nigga. I ain't no fag."

"Um ... I'm not a man."

"Yeah, but you want to stick a dick in my ass."

"Ok ..."

"Any man that wants anything stuck up his ass is gay."

"Oh really?"

"Man. I ain't lettin' nobody stick nothin up my ass,” Afroman interjects.

“Have you fucked a girl up her ass before?" I ignore Afroman and continue grilling Pusha.

"Of course."

"Ok and? It's ok for you to fuck a girl up her ass but not okay for a girl to fuck you up your ass? I don't understand. If a girl likes to take it in the butt does that make her a homosexual male?"

"That’s different. I ain't lettin' nobody do nothing with my ass."

"Mm hmm."

"What?"

"Have you ever had a rim job?"

"A wha-"

"Nigga don't try to play it off like you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Have you ever had a woman lick your ass, yes or no?"

"Yeah."

“Ugh cuzz, you did that shit?” Afroman is looking at Pusha likes he’s on crack. Pusha and I ignore him again. I continue questioning.

"Did you like it?"

"Man. She was sucking my dick too though. That was different."

"It was different because she sucked your dick?"

"Yeah. She licked my balls and I guess just kept going with her tongue."

"And you liked it, right?"

"Yeah, I liked it. But that don't mean I want nobody fucking me in the ass."

"Mm hmm."

"What?"

"Have you ever had a girl stick her fingers up your butt during a blowjob?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?"

"Oh. My bad. I thought you were a freak."

"I am."

"And you've never had a girl stick her fingers up your ass during a blow job."

Although it is a question, I say it like a declarative statement, almost as if he is on trial and I am cross-examining.

"Yeah I have."

"That was something being stuck up your ass."

"It was a finger though. Small, a female's finger. That's different than a fake dick."

"I have a little one." I laugh at my own joke, but he doesn't find it funny.

"Why do you think that would make you gay?"

"Man, I just ain't letting nobody stick no dick in my ass. Fake or real."

"You must be scared you are gonna like it."

"You let anybody fuck in the ass?"

"I have before.”

“Did you like it?”

“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you and your homophobic view of sex.”

“I’m not homophobic. I don’t care if a nigga is gay, so long as he knows I ain’t.”

“Liking the feeling of having your prostate stimulated does not make you gay Pusha.”

"Well whatever, I'm not sticking nothing in my ass."

"Cause you're a real nigga."

"Exactly."

“Word,” Afroman adds and resumes playing PS2.

Pusha starts to roll another blunt, and begins a conversation about the weed we are smoking. Both men speak animatedly about the quality of the weed but I can tell something deeper is on their mind. They both know I’m not going to let the conversation die. I’ll let it rest for now, but it’s far from over.

to be continued...