The Ghetto Yute...The Gun & The Tongue

So let me drop this story about the time I got fucked and sucked by a real ghetto yute. Yeah, you heard right. A certified, Guinness-drinking, rum and Boom, weed-smoking, zinc-fence-living, tough-chat ghetto man. And this one? He had a gun and a game plan.

I met T at a party through a mutual friend. We exchanged numbers and started talking almost every day for about two weeks. It wasn't any of those lovey-dovey kinda talks about favourite colour and favourite foods and all those things. It was more like what's your favourite position, what's your fantasy, what's the freakiest thing you ever do kinda talks. So one Saturday night, he invited me out. He said he was at a friend’s party and told me to meet him there. But instead of giving me directions, he said no need to worry my head with such details and he’d send a taxi for me.

Red flag? Maybe. But I was too flattered to notice. I mean, a man sending for me? Cute.

Now, I didn’t know the community his friend lived in, but the vibe? Oh, I could feel it as soon as we turned off the main road. It had that “inner city” energy. You know what I mean — the zinc fences, narrow lanes, bass-heavy music in the distance, dominoes slamming on wooden tables. It wasn’t uptown. But it wasn’t bad either. It was just...real. And I'm not judging; I'm just saying.

Anyway, during the party, I got bored. I needed a change of scene. We left and went to New Kingston...my kinda crowd, my kinda vibe. We partied hard, and by the end of the night? I was drunk and horny as fuck.

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I wanted to feel that 10-inch dick he had shown me in our late-night convos. Man said he knew how to use it, and trust me, I was ready to test the theory. So I asked, “Where you live?” He said, “Kingston Gardens.”

Now hold on... because this is where my drunken brain completely failed me. I heard “Gardens” and my mind went straight to Cherry Gardens. 😅 I was calm, cool, and comfortable. Thought I was heading somewhere leafy and bougie.

Spoiler alert: Kingston Gardens is NOT Cherry Gardens. Lol

We hopped in a taxi. I was touchy-feely the whole ride, kissing on his neck, whispering filth. But as my buzz wore off, I started to clock where the hell we were. The taxi was heading down Slipe Road, and then turned by Kingston High.

I sat up straight.

The hell?? Why are we heading downtown?? 😳 But I stayed composed. I’ve learned not to let a man smell fear, especially one you don’t know too well. So I played it cool and confident.

We walked down a narrow path and through a zinc fence into his tiny room. It was neat, clean, and smelled like cologne and weed. He pushed the door open, flicked on the TV, then turned the volume all the way up.

He looked at me and said, “That’s to cover your screams.”

Whew!! Okay then. At this point, I was both turned on and slightly terrified for my life because what does he mean by "cover your screams". I was still drunk, still horny, still wanting to fuck, so when he barked, “Strip.” I obeyed.

I wasn’t expecting love or romance. I wanted to be fucked. And he knew it. “Nuh expect no mek love enuh. Mi a go fuck the shit outta yuh,” he said. Perfect. I didn’t want soft. I wanted raw. And baby, he delivered. “Open your mouth and come suck mi cocky, bitch.”

He shoved his dick in my mouth like a man on a mission. No hesitation. Just straight down the throat action. He pinned me in the corner, kneeling in his bed and fucking my face like it owed him rent. Then came the main event.

“Come bend over mek mi fuck out yuh hole'.”

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He put on a condom and SLAMMED into me so deep I could feel my womb shift. The strokes? Devil-sent. The grip? Wild and possessive. The vibes? Filthy. He spewed every derogatory name he could think of to call a woman and demanded I curse badwords and call him jrancro. 😅

I obeyed.

But then... plot twist.

Just when I thought I had seen and felt it all, he stopped, looked at me and said: “Mi a go suck yuh pussy now.”

I choked. HUH!?!?

A ghetto yute? Sucking pussy? Since when?! I mean, ain't that against their constitution?? So you mean to say Dancehall lied to me?? You mean to tell me the gun salutes in the dances were fake?? 😂 All that went turning over in my mind because my naivety was about to die.

Then it got even crazier.

He bent down, pulled something from under his bed, opened a box… and took out a gun. Yes. A WHOLE gun. I swear I almost pissed myself.

“If yuh ever tell anybody seh mi suck yuh pussy, just know seh yuh dead, yuh hear dat!?” he said.

And I’m sitting there like:

"Sir. Be fucking for real!"

Of course I was gonna tell my girls! This was story-time GOLD. But in that moment, I played it cool. After all, I didn't want to end up on the news.

He placed the gun on the bed, beside me, then got down and started to eat. Was he good? Not really. His tongue was stiff. No rhythm. More aggression than finesse..But was I gonna tell him that? HELL no. Not with that gun was staring me in the face. So I moaned. Loud. Faked a whole orgasm. Thank you, drama club training and porn watching with my cousins.

Then he flipped me, pulled me to the edge of the bed, bent my legs back and went back in for round two. Hand around my neck. Eyes locked. Pounding me like I was his personal revenge. He nutted, collapsed beside me, tucked the gun under his pillow, then pulled me close and SPOONED. 😩 Talk about duality. And me? I laid there wide awake. Staring at the wall. Thinking: “As soon as I see sunlight, I’m getting the fuck outta here.”

Sun came. I dipped. He called to make sure I got home safely.

Then? Blocked. Deleted.

I wasn’t about to risk my life for a second session. Mark you, the sex wasn't so bad, but not gun-on-the-bed good.

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