Lil Man, You're a Hater

***Yeah... This is a long one.***

I've dated... Ok, ok, I've fucked plenty of single mothers. Trust and believe, a girl with an existing fuck trophy is 7 out of 10 times way friendlier with the vagina than a woman without. This is a non-debatable fact. Some single mothers sneak you into the house in the dead of night, give you the pussy, and send you on your way before the kids wake up. Now others will have you up in the house interacting with their children and might even make you an honorary uncle. But, this blog isn't about the joys and the conveniences of bedding women with kids. Nope; that blog is coming at a later date. This is about the mix bag that is the children of said single mothers and how much of a cock blocker they can be.

You know what prepared me for fatherhood? Playing with other bitches' children. I bullshit you not. I beta tested 90% of my parenting skills on some other dudes' lil' niglets. With all my experience and 16 plus years of baby mama fucking, every once in a while a child comes along that you just can't win over. That child is normally a championship level cock blocker. Not to say that I don't understand where he's coming from though; I wouldn't want anybody fucking my mother either. Anyway, on with the story...

We're going to go with the name Christy, and as for her hating ass son, we're just going to call him Damien.

Nine out of ten baby mothers that allow you to meet their kid before they even know your last name will hit you with a line that goes something like this, "I normally don't let guys come around my child(ren)... (blah blah blah and blah blah blah) but you seem like a really good guy." Establishing this situation as a rarity and making you the exception to the rule like you really give a fuck about her parenting skills. Wholetime you're thinking, "Oh ok, and... what that mouf do." So of course I got the little speech about being invited over whilst her kid was present and awake. We were supposed to being going out, but Christy's babysitter canceled on her; instead of calling the whole thing off, she invited me over for "dinner".

So I walk in, she greets me with a church hug, and over her shoulder, I see this little niglet has his territory all marked out. Toys were scattered all over the living room floor, action figures were posted up on the couch like they were standing guard, and the TV was on cartoon network with the volume up loud enough for me to hear everything clearly before even I walked thru the door. He's played this game before; that was obvious. He was prepared, and I clearly wasn't.

Christy - Damien this Mr. Jean, Mommy's friend. Say "Hello".
Damien - *No response... blank stare... crickets*
JD - What's up?
Damien - *No response... blank stare... crickets*
Christy - Damien, now don't be rude.
Damien - *No response... blank stare... crickets*
JD - Well, ok then.

Since the boy clearly had the living room bordered off, I was forced to sit at the dining room while she prepared dinner. After about 10 minutes of silence, I whipped the trusty Sidekick out (yeah, the ol' T-Mobile joint) to hop on the net. This must of set Damien's spidey senses off because I looked up, and he was standing right in front of me.

Damien - You got games on your phone?

Of course, I had games on my phone, but I wasn't about to let this niglet step off with my sole source of entertainment after that warm reception he'd just given me. Plus, I had nudes in my phone, even a couple from his mom so that would've been all bad.

JD - Nah, I don't really play games.
Damien - Can't you download one?
JD - These games cost money.
Damien - *No response... blank stare... crickets*

And, little did I know that was my first mistake because from that moment on he was on full fledge hater mode.

I saw the hate in his eyes so I figured I'd try to the get the boy to warm up to me because I knew he was the only thing standing in the way of the pussy. I had to use my go to move: the rough play. Fact: little boys love rough play. I figured I'd pick the little nigga up and toss him around a bit. He was all for it except that when I was worn out and ready to chill, he wasn't. So I pushed thru it far into my fatigue, and I dropped the little nigga. As Damien fell in slow motion all 2 feet 6 inches onto the plush carpet I was standing on, I could see him look back at me with the face that Bill Duke gave Cain in Menace (You know you done fucked up right?). As he ever so softly landed without even making a sound, there were 3 seconds of silence before he erupted into a crying howl that would wake his ancestors, let alone alarm  his mother standing on the other side of a kitchen wall. I just knew it was a wrap for me. Before Christy even got a chance to ask what happened I got to explaining myself like I was an 8 year old that just got caught sticking a toy in an electrical socket...

JD - See we were rough playing; then he fell. He ain't even hit the ground hard, for real. Damien, you're ok right?

Christy picked Damien up off the carpet, stroked his back, and his howl turned into a punk ass whimper.

Christy - He's not as tough as he makes out to be, and he always tries to play with the big boys and gets hurt...

Is she giving me a pass for dropping her child on the ground? Is this really happening right now?

Christy - ...He'll be fine. Don't worry; just give him a little time to get himself together and no more rough play.

After she sat him down on the love seat went back to the kitchen that little niglet sat there mean mugging me for the next 15 minutes, and it took every fiber in my body not to give him the middle finger. He wasn't hurt.

About 10 minutes later, the meal was ready. We sat down at the table, and as I made child-friendly conversation with his phat ass mother, he continued to ice grill me while pushing vegetables back and forth across his plate. I wasn't even worried about him. I dropped him on the floor, Christy gave me a pass, and when I get up and dump these veggies in the trash, he's really going to be beefing while he sits there staring at cold carrots and shit. I was doing the victory lap in my head. I whipped out the sidekick and read my twitter feed as his mom cleared the dishes. I clearly had won because bedtime for him was at 9, and it was 8:47. Moments later, she was walking him upstairs to call it a night as he looked through the railing at me with his ice grill still intact. I laughed silently, and gave him the thumbs up.

A bath and 2 bedtime stories later she was sitting hugged up with me watching a rerun of Martin on TV One. She revisited the meeting my child speech, but I politely interrupted her by pulling out one her titties. Conversation over. Right before things got too hot and heavy, she readjusted her clothing, and tiptoed upstairs to check if Damien was asleep or not. When she opened his bedroom door, I could hear him snoring down stairs. I won. She came half way back down the stairs and motioned me up. I slide off my shoes like Usher in the end of the "You Make Me Wanna" video and tiptoed up the stairs right after her. I followed her silhouette into her bedroom and started to close the door behind me as she said, "Leave it cracked so I can hear him if he gets up." In retrospect, I should have locked the fucking door and put a dresser in front of it.

She stripped completely down before I could even get my belt unbuckled and crawled over to me, then *voila* starts in with the head. I know I've said it in this blog already, but damn it I won. She undressed me the rest of way and grabbed a condom out of the nightstand, and then *voila* puts it on me using her mouth. Yep, she's a hoe but whatever... again... I won. I tossed her on the bed and get about 11 strokes in, and I hear...

Damien - Mommy, I had a nightmare.

This bitch tossed me up off and on the floor on the opposite side of the bed and slid under the blanket all in one fluid motion. I can't even begin to explain her precision or strength.

Damien - What were you doing?
Christy - Nothing baby; what were you dreaming about?
Damien - Mommy it was... *he continues with this made up story about monsters or some shit*

And then this lil' niglet climbed smooth in the bed as I laid on floor with a hard dick gathering my clothes. I managed to get my boxers and jeans on without standing up, and I crawled out of the bedroom. I didn't even want to temp another awkward moment. I sat on her couch for about 15 minutes after I got myself back together, hoping she'd come down and tell me he's gone back to sleep, but I knew better. Her 5 year old just witnessed her receiving hard dick. I just didn't want to admit defeat. I walked out, and sent the "I'm gone text". That walk of shame to the car was the meanest one I've ever taken in my life. She didn't even respond to my text until 2 days later with a "Sorry" and nothing else.

That boy hated me right out of the pussy, literally. I lost.
Jean DeGrate has spoken