Page 41 of The Man Handler

My cell rings again, disrupting my thoughts.

I glance at the screen, taking a long, deep, breathe.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” he says.

It’s Wade.

“Hey,” I say back, wondering why he’s calling.

“How you been?” he asks.

“I’ve been doing great. And you?”

“I can’t complain.” He pauses. And in that brief moment, images of his glistening naked body, his thick, shiny dick swinging between his thighs flash through my mind, causing me to shiver as I imagine my head hanging off the bed and him slowly sliding his cock down in my throat, swelling to full capacity, shutting off my airway as he stretches my throat. With each push, I swallow, taking more of him in. He grinds his pelvis nice and slow, then begins to face-fuck me, causing me to gag; forcing tears to escape from my eyes; his heavy balls slapping up against my forehead until they unleash a thick, hot cream.

I swallow hard, gulping down my fantasy.

“So, whatchu been up to?” he asks, shutting off the remainder of my lust-driven thoughts.

“Nothing much,” I offer.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Is that so?” I question, slipping my hand between my legs, cupping my pussy. “And what have you been thinking?”

“How much I miss—”

“Please, Wade, let’s not go there,” I warn, cut

ting him off.

“Go where?”

I suck my teeth, removing my hand from between my legs. “C’mon, let’s not play games here. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not playing games. I’m keeping shit real. And if you had let me finish what I was getting ready to say, you’d know that…”

Silence.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” I say, sighing. “I’m listening.”

“Now, like I was saying, I was thinking about how much I miss sticking this dick up in you and fucking the shit outta you. You made it very clear that you’re not looking for love or no shit like that. And I can dig it. I’m not gonna front and act like I wasn’t feelin’ some type of way about it, but I’m a man, baby. And I can rock with the best of ’em. So, if all you want is the dick, then fuck it. Let’s let it do what it do.”

I feel my pussy heating. Subconsciously, I shut my legs tight, and fight the urge to press down on my clit. “So what are you saying, Wade?” I shift the phone to my left ear.

“I’m saying I still wanna at least be fuck buddies.”

“And what if I don’t wanna fuck you anymore?”

“Then I’m hoping we can at least still be friends…”

Friends? Is he serious? I have never been friends with any man I used to fuck. Never had any interest before, and I damn sure don’t now. Does he really think we can be friends? Now, if I had never sucked down his dick, or he had never had his tongue shoved up in my ass, then, yes, we could definitely be friends. But a man I’ve fucked? That’s always been a no-no for me.

The notion causes me to remember a conversation I had with a “friend”—again I use that word loosely—I used to work with before allowing Nahdirah into my personal space. The chick was babbling on and on about this male friend she had who she was “falling” for because he was everything she wanted in a man. I could almost hear the violins playing in the background as she spoke about how great a catch he was, how fine he was, how wonderful of a man he was, how special he made her feel, how she wanted to be in a relationship with him…blah, blah, blah. OhmyGod, it was sickening!

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