The Belt Buckle

If you have ever worn a belt in your life, you should read this Joint! lol


Young as it slices through the air, violently driving down that path to your ass that’s bare. No one can get you mother to acknowledge your pleas, screaming level is @ the top of the charts like the song by Alicia Keys. Can’t sit for long in class the next day, the other kids know why & laugh while pointing your way. Years of belt buckle beatings make you internally violent, so when you whip your kids, emotions can’t be communicated clearly which is why you stay silent. Naturally you instill in your kids the rage you longed to kill, endless cycle like the circle made by the belt buckle’s latching, I’m not preaching just wanting you to see where I’m coming from, if you will…

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Stacy Adams, Gucci, or a Marquee could be the option, it really doesn’t matter cuz all you’re about to do is go club hopping. You arrive in the place to be, not jam packed, but in an hour it’ll probably be filled to capacity. First, you lay in the cut, drinkin’ on who knows what. You spot some homies & roll over to say what’s up. All of you dressed to kill; the dudes in the club have more dirty eyes on you than R. Kelly @ his last appeal. You scan the scene lookin’ for honeys, you choose not to make it rain to avoid those only interested in money. As it is, your clothes give away your social status, but upon females approaching you, you don’t want dollar signs to be the catalyst. After awhile you spot one, she’s thick lookin’ like the healthy fruit that’s cultivated by the sun. Her being curvaceousness makes you extra flirtatious, no smooth punchlines for you, tonight just stick to the basics.


Your eyes meet the message communicated means there’s no need to speak, she sashays over…you lick your lips & that makes her move slower. Ahh…the make-him-wait type, that’s the kind of sexiness you like. She’s wearing a peach dress which is why you referenced the fruit, your finger trace her waist as you pull her closer to you. Grind & gyrate, these sinuous movements make the dick levitate. Harder than the metal used to make the belt buckle, a slip between the cheeks makes your knees struggle. You take her home, stroke her on your silk throne, the high ceiling easily echoes her moans. After she’s gone, your dick immediately feels sore, “It’s nothing, pussy was tight that’s the reason for sure…” A visit to the clinic is pending, when will you learn that the saga of the belt buckle is never ending?

**Fueled by passion, driven by pain before I die the world will know my name**

- JioVanni