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and Trey had trusted me enough to tell me his. But I was a New Yorker with a story to tell too. So standing against a hard wall in that crowded hospital waiting room next to a dude that I was feeling all down in my bones, I opened up my heart just a little bit, and even though I told Trey about some of the dirt that life had thrown down on me, I damn sure didn’t tell him everything.
     

CHAPTER 4
     
    Flex mighta been moaning like he was in heaven as he got his top done by a chick who favored Juicy, but even though his nut was rising, his mind was way on the other side of town.
    He gazed down at the chick who was slobbering on his balls and frowned. She looked good in the face and she had a nice ass on her, but she damn sure wasn’t no substitute for the girl he really wanted. The girl he planned to wife and own someday.
    Flex moaned as the hoe he’d picked up off the track gripped his fat dick in both her hands. She had looked real surprised when he pulled his bone out and she saw how big it was. Like she had expected him to have a kid-sized lil pee-pee or something. His shit was man-sized, just like his gangsta. Matter fact, this bitch could barely throat his shit. Every time she dove down and tried to swallow his meat, the sheer length of it stopped her and she fell back, acknowledging his superior structure.
    Flex let his head loll back as the young girl gave up trying to deep throat him and went into her hoe bag for a couple of new tricks. She pulled up her shirt and clapped his dick between her swollen bubble-breasts, then squeezed them babies together and swirled her tongue around the head while titty-jacking his shit to a perfect rhythm. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Juicy squeezing his wood, Juicy’s tongue licking all over his dick, and Juicy’s hands gently gripping his swollen nuts.
    In due time , Flex told himself as he snatched the girl by the head and pumped deeply up into her mouth. He’d get Juicy in his bed in due time. Sex and power went hand and hand for Flex, and just thinking about how he was gonna reign large as fuck one day turned him on.
    Yeah, he admitted, his shit mighta got twisted a lil bit to the left when he got mad and pushed Juicy down on them train tracks, but hell, she could forgive him and his basic plans could still stay set. He was still gonna be running Harlem one day, he thought as he thrust his meat halfway down the hoe’s throat. He was still gonna take over the G-Spot. And no matter what nobody said, he was still gonna get Juicy.
    Juicy. Juicy. Juicy . . . he moaned her name and an avalanche of cum raced up outta Flex’s nuts and spewed outta the tip of his dick. He shuddered as his muscle jerked and his seed scalded the back of the girl’s throat. Juicy. Juicy . Juicy .
    Flex kept his eyes closed as he pulled his wet dick outta the skank’s mouth and stuffed it back inside his drawers. He waved the bitch off, dismissing her from his presence as he tried to hold on to the remnants of his pleasure and his thoughts of Juicy. Flex well understood that wifing Juicy would be the greatest sign of his evolution as a G. Because in the street world it was all about progress and gain. Gain and progress. If you wasn’t growing then that meant your black ass was dying, and even though he lived in a funeral parlor underneath the cold and the dead, Flex wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon. 
    Instead, he was plotting on multiple avenues of expanding his business sector, and there was one shifty bitch who was throwing up roadblocks on one of his key paths.
    Salida McKay.
    That chick had a mind for business, and it burned Flex up to know that for months now she had been out-thinking him three steps to one. He had figured the old bird was harmless when she first came to him looking to cop some low-priced ingredients to cook up her own club drugs, but outta nowhere her shit had blew the fuck up into a booming money-pit.
    Her Strawberry Snake meth was severely undercutting the