Page 19 of The Man Handler

“Baby boy, I don’t play games. I live life. And I fuck on my terms.”

“You got a name?”

“It’s Janaye. And yours?”

“Quincy, but all my peeps call me Q.”

He was not only intrigued, but turned the hell on. I could tell his dick was harder than steel by the way he shoved his hands down in his pockets and kept shifting from one leg to the other. He pulled his dick to the side, trying his hardest to keep it in check. I smiled, then leaned in closer and asked him if he was willing to release his inhibitions, to relax his mind, and allow me to take him to higher ground.

When he said, “Hell yeah,” I discreetly ran my hand along the front of his jeans, squeezed his dick, then whispered my pre-paid cell number into his ear. I opened my car door, then slid in. I rolled my window down, blew him a kiss, and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. Now between you and me, if he’s able to remember my number and calls, I’m going to fuck his young ass sideways. If not, oh well.

Well, gotta go. I’m exhausted from my weekend, so I need to get my ass in the bed. Tomorrow it’s back to work, and I need to have my mind right in order to deal with them folks. Ugh, I really fucking hate Mondays. Oh, well. Good night. Until the next time…happy fucking and sucking!

CHAPTER TEN

Let me ask you something: Do you think if a man allows you to insert a finger into his ass and he really enjoys it, he might have bisexual or gay tendencies? How many men do you think have allowed their partners to finger-fuck ’em, then felt guilty afterward? He’s afraid of how she’s looking at him, worrying about what she’s thinking, or whether she’s going to tell the world their bedroom secret.

Well, if I had to answer the first question, I’d say, “Personally, I don’t think so.” There is nothing wrong with massaging a man’s prostate and giving him that ultimate nut. Now, uh, if he’s asking you to strap on a dildo and fuck him deep, then I’d say, “Proceed with caution, and keep your eyes and ears open.” But it still doesn’t mean he’s sexually attracted to men. Honestly, if a man wanted me to fuck him, I would. I’d slap that ass, strap on a long, thick dildo, and dick him down like no tomorrow, then suck his dick when I’m done tearing his asshole out the frame. I’d do him exactly like some of them do us. Rough and dirty.

“Yeah, take this dick, nigga. You like Mommy’s big black dick? You want Mommy to nut up in that ass? Whose ass is this? That’s right, back that hairy ass up on this dick…this ass is mine, nigga…damn, you got some good, tight ass…don’t let me find out you givin’ this ass to some other bitch.”

And the whole time, I’d alternate slapping both of his ass cheeks. The thought has me cracking the fuck up. Yep, I sure would strap it up, and tap it up. I’d fuck him silly. Then afterward, I’d give him some of Mommy’s hot, wet pussy and let him know he’s still a damn man. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t think it meant he was gay or had bisexual tendencies. You can only be gay or bisexual if there’s a sexual attraction to the same sex, right?

Anyway, my answer to the second question is, “I think men who are very insecure in whom they are as men, or have secretly questioned their sexual identities are the ones who start tripping.” If they’re really secure in their sexuality and their women feel secure about who they are as men (and partners), then I don’t think there should be any guilt or concern. I see it as two open-minded adults satisfying each other sexually. However, a woman still needs to keep her mouth shut about what is jumping off in the bedroom. Just because she may think there’s nothing wrong with it, doesn’t mean her girls won’t. They’ll be looking at both of them sideways, snickering behind their backs. Or if a woman does think there’s something wrong with her man liking anal play and she discusses it with her so-called friends, trust and believe they’re gonna have a lot to say about that. They’ll get all up in her ear and head. Then by the end of the night—after three bottles of wine, or a few shots of Henny—they’ll have her ass thinking her man is a full-fledged drag queen. Then her drunk ass will go home and curse him out and accuse him of fucking men. And before you know it, he’s done packed his shit and left her ass. Then two weeks later, guess who’ll be fucking her man? You got it! It’ll be one of the same bitches who sat up in her face and gassed her ass all up. So she should definitely keep her mouth closed about it. Of course, this is the opinion of a ho. So what do I know?

Well, for starters, I know—and I will keep repeating myself on this—I can’t stand a person who flaps their lips like wings, yapping all of the goings-on behind closed doors. That to me is a damn no-no, especially if this is someone you plan on seeing again or becoming romantically involved with. Now if it’s a one-time fuck, then do you. Other than that, keep your fucking mouth shut!

I also know that most men want a woman who knows how to get freaky with it. Yeah, they want a conservative, mild-mannered chick in public, but behind closed doors, men crave a woman who can, I repeat, fuck a dick, suck a dick, and ain’t scared of a dick. They want her to be open enough to experiment, to role-play, to share all of their freaky little secrets.

I sigh, deciding that in addition to the questions I already ask men I meet, I’m going to add some others to the list: You ever had a chick lick your asshole? Or stick her finger in your butt while she’s sucking your dick? (If he says no, I’ll ask him if he’s willing to try it. This will give me an idea of exactly how far he’ll go sexually.) Are you secure in your sexuality? Are you willing to step outside of your comfort zone and really get freaky with it? Ever been with another man? If not, have you ever wondered what it would be like? Would you ever consider trying it if the opportunity presented itself, provided it would be kept private and discreet? This is what I need to know. Of course, I don’t expect him to be honest about that last question, but I’ll ask it anyway just to watch his facial expression and body language. Let’s be real, men who like it in the ass would never admit to it, not to a woman, for fear of being dissed. He might secretly masturbate while thinking about it, but he would never actually confess to it.

I want men to know that all their nasty little secrets are safe with me. My lair is a place where a man can explore his deepest, darkest sexual fantasies without judgment. Without sideways glances. Without being emasculated. Behind these closed doors, I allow a man to be as freaky as he wants to be. Hell, as I already mentioned, I’m willing to strap on a dild

o and do him in his ass while jerking him off if that’s what he’s into. I aim to please.

Not that whether he’s honest or not really matters ’cause if I want to fuck him, I’m going to do it anyway. He’d just have to double-wrap his dick, then keep it moving. Hell, there’re many women fucking men who have no idea who or what the hell the guys are doing at the end of the day, so what damn difference does it really make?

Well, knowing gives us choices. Not knowing puts us at greater risk. But either way, one should always, always practice safe sex; especially when he’s not your damn husband or man. But, then again, even then, you still don’t know. Do you?

My cell phone rings. I glance at the number, rolling my eyes. It’s Barry. “Hello,” I say into the receiver.

“Hey, stranger,” he says. His rich baritone voice drips with sex appeal. “What you been up to?”

“Not much,” I offer, sitting on the edge of my bed. I close my eyes, envisioning his naked body sprawled out in the center of my bed. “What’s been going on with you?”

“Same shit. I wanna see you tonight.” He’s talking all low ’n shit on his cell while his wife is in the other room getting their kids ready for bed. He tells me how he can’t stop thinking ’bout how good this pussy feels wrapped around his dick. And how bad he wants some more. Well, of course he does! They all do.

I sigh. Let me tell you a little bit about Barry. He’s a six-foot-four, two-hundred-thirty-pound, wanna-be Rasta whom I met in New Orleans at the Essence Festival last year. He has six children with four different baby mamas. And yes, I fucked him on the spot. Once I learned he was from East Orange, I made it my business to fuck him again, and again, and again until I had enough of his cum-cannon. The last time I fucked him was almost four months ago. It took me almost two days to recover from him rocking my pussy inside out.

“Aww, I wish you would have called me earlier,” I lie.

Between you and me, I have no interest in allowing this man up in my pussy again. One, he’s packing extremely too much damn dick to be trying to fuck me on the regular.

That eleven-and-a-half-inch, dark-chocolate pole is about the size of a damn arm. And I’m sorry, say what you want, but I’m not the one. In my opinion, a big dick like his has to be taken in very small doses, like once every three to six months. There’s no way I want him plunging in and out of me—not today, or any other day. I’m a firm believer that any woman who lives for a big-ass dick on a regular has got to have a pussy as wide and nasty as the Hudson River. Ugh! There’s nothing worse than an overworked, over-fucked, sloppy, stretched-out hole.

Two, he blazes trees like a damned forest fire. Can’t seem to focus or function without it. The shit seems to reek from his pores when he sweats. I don’t know ’bout you, but I don’t think there is anything sexy about having a nigga lying up on top of me smelling like he rolled himself up in a blunt. Sorry, getting a contact high is not my thing. Not that it’s my place to judge, but this nigga is a real fiend, if you ask me. He’d rather blow two, three hundred dollars a week on weed than invest it in something more constructive. Like a set of braces for his crooked-ass teeth.

And three, Barry’s one of those people I was talking about a while back who jumps into a relationship with someone without knowing them, then complains. From what he has shared with me during our few encounters, he met his chick at some strip bar; fucked her a few times; then she got pregnant. Now, the mofo was already in between places and needed a spot to lay his head, so what does he do? He moves in with her. Now, two years later, he’s miserable and feels trapped. Dumb ass! That’s what the hell he gets for splashing off in her without a damned condom. I’ll say it again: Date, date, date before you jump into shit with someone.

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