THE 520IMELON SHAPED ASSES, JUICY AND hot steamed up the car’s windows. Red tongues teased lips and flickered over rock hard n*****s. The car rocked like a boat teased by rippling waves. “Ace” and his “boi” screwed in the back seat of my 520i. They thought I didn’t know there was more to that “my boi” s**t, but I pretended ignorance. I got a third eye, a sixth sense. I was born with a veil over my face. That don’t mean the wool is over my eyes. I got my “mama” in my pocket—going to do something about this s**t one day.
*
Me, Ace, and his “boi” Dee rolled to the Warehouse with the top down on the BMW and the cold air blasting our faces. Once outside the car, Houston’s heat and humidity dampened our bodies. But our hearts thumped as if we expected to find Jesus in a g-string dancing behind
