Page 54 of The Man Handler

“And there are plenty of sisters who will fuck her own sister’s man, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Well, long story short, the bitch would do some shit like that, and she tried. But, she didn’t exactly get what she wanted. And when I confronted Vaughn about my suspicions, he readily admitted, which was surprising to me, that she had been saying slick shit to get at him, but he would brush it off. I asked him why he never mentioned it, and he said because it wasn’t a big deal. Yeah, okay. I know better. As far as I am concerned, he should have checked her ass, then told me what the hell she was up to. But since he wanted to keep shit on the low, obviously needing and wanting her to feed his already super-sized ego, I dumped his ass. I had to wonder what else he was keeping from me. Call it extreme if you want. But if some chick I’m supposedly cool with is stepping to my man, I expect to know about it, right then. There’s no damn way I want a man in my life who keeps secrets. Sorry, boo-boo, you ain’t the one for me!

And since then, I haven’t allowed another bitch into my personal space. The only bitch I need in my life is me. At least I know what I’m capable of. But another bitch, humph…now, that’s a whole ’nother story. I don’t trust ’em as far as I can throw ’em. And trust me, there’s too many of them slimy hoes for me to be trying to spend my life tossing around, so I choose to not fuck with ’em, period. Hell, as advanced as technology is, you would think someone would have developed a Ho-scanner by now. Some type of device a chick can either carry in her purse to wand a bitch down, or install around her front door, so that when she allows a chick to enter her home or personal space, bells and whistles start going off, alerting her that the company she is keeping has the potential to fuck her man, if given the right opportunity. And then the bitch would have to wear some type of identifying marker, like a damn metal wristband or something so every woman with a man would know who the hell was amongst her. Now, if you ask me, that would cut down on a lot of damn heartache, disappointment and confusion.

Humph. I haven’t given Vaughn or that tramp Karen a second thought in almost four years until today. And in all honesty, I need to probably thank her ass because if it hadn’t been for that situation, I would probably be still thinking that bitch was my friend.

Anyway, even if Vaughn would have told me what she was up to, I would have still eventually ended it with him. There were some things about our relationship that weren’t sitting well with me. Sexually speaking, he often left me unfulfilled. He had a nice nine-inch dick, but the mofo was stingy as hell with it. He couldn’t deal with how I liked to fuck all the time. While I wanted it two to three times a day, he was okay with fucking once or twice a week. What kind of shit is that? That’s some mess you do when you’re in your sixties.

I practically had to beg him for the dick, or wait until he was asleep, then take it. Trust me. That started getting real played. Please tell me. How many men you know who have access to a steady supply of wet, hot pussy turn it down, unless they getting it somewhere else? But he swore up and down there wasn’t another woman. Hmmm, okay. Then maybe…ugh! I don’t even want to entertain the possibility of him being one of those down-low brothers as an option. But, nowadays, who the hell knows?

Bottom line, there was no regular fucking going on in my own bed. And when he did hit this pussy, he didn’t like for me to talk dirty, or make a lot of noise. I felt so damn constricted with him. Couldn’t do this, couldn’t do that. Hell, he only wanted me to lie there, and listen to him grunt and pant for forty minutes. God forbid i

f I did let loose, and go into freak mode, he’d cum within ten minutes, and would barely be able to get it up again for another round, or he’d fall into a deep, bear-growling snore.

And through it all, not once in the three years I was with him, did I go out and get some side dick. I thought about it. And as bad as I wanted to, I refused to cheat on him. But, trust and believe, after I broke it off with him, I made myself a promise that I’d never be involved with another man who couldn’t keep me satisfied in the sack. I refuse to be deprived (or stifled) sexually ever again. I will never again be with a man who feels the need to ration out the dick. And I mean that!

Ugh! All this “strolling down memory lane” got me thinking about my worst sexual experience. I was in my sophomore year in college and there was this junior, Jonathan, in my human development class that every chick on the campus wanted. If there were two hundred chicks sweating him, best believe he’d already fucked at least sixty of ’em. And on the surface, I could understand why. Besides being the star point guard for our basketball team, he was capital F-I-N-E. six, three, 210 pounds of smooth, honey-coated skin with the prettiest almond-shaped, light brown eyes I have ever seen (to this day) on a man.

Well, long story short, spring semester I gave him some pussy. And it was absolutely horrible! His dick game was so busted it was almost depressing. First, he had a hard time finding my hole, then he finally gets it in and it keeps slipping out because he’s too busy trying to long stroke it when he was only working with a short stick, if you know what I mean. And when I say short, I mean measuring in at four-and-a-half very thick inches. I couldn’t believe it! Now, I know I basically said a while back that dick size was strictly a matter of preference. And like I said, a big dick can be a nice treat from time to time. But, as I already mentioned, I’d rather have a man with a thick six to eight inches plunging in and out of my pussy on a regular, than nine inches or more. Because the truth is, I don’t want my shit stretched open so wide that a man needs an express train to get to the other side, or a damn escalator in order to hit the bottom. That is not cute. But, fucking a man with only four inches of hard dick, now that is a damn travesty! Hell, as far as I’m concerned, that isn’t a dick on a grown-ass man, it’s a damn butt plug. Ugh, poor thing!

Anyway, back to Jonathan. I had to wrap my legs around him, then dig the heels of my feet into his ass to keep him in me. Ugh!! I laid underneath him, watching his face twist while his eyes were shut, thinking about the calculus exam I had in the morning, that’s how boring he was. He had no rhythm and no damn stamina at all, and his only saving grace was the fact that he could kiss and suck a titty like he was nursing. Other than that, forget it! He came in exactly nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds (I know this because I timed it) and then went to sleep with me lying next to him frustrated, agitated, and disgusted with a very wet and very disgruntled pussy.

However, in all fairness to him, I will say that the second go round wasn’t as bad as the first, but it still wasn’t something to write home about. However, he did last twenty minutes and thirteen seconds before he splattered his nut across my back. And then he had the audacity to ask me, “Was it good?” My answer: “You have got to be kidding me!” Needless to say, I never fucked him again.

Oh, well. While I’m at it, speaking of men and the Almighty King ding-a-ling, most women don’t realize that a man’s spirit flows through his dick. And every time he ejaculates inside of her, he’s injecting pieces of himself. His energy, his matter, his essence take root inside of her, and spread through her. Every time she allows a man to splash off in her, she invites all that he is into her space. Good, bad, and the ugly.

If a man is no good, she’s going to allow him to do no good to her, and in return, she’ll get nothing good. In my opinion, the reason why so many women can’t break away from a no-good mofo is because his negative spirit lives within them, and holds them hostage. His tainted energy will spread through a woman like cancer, if not treated swiftly. Not that I’m an expert in the matter, but, again, in my opinion, the only way to break free from his ass is by having an exorcism done. She’ll need to flush her womb, her mind, and her spirit from his; it’s the only way to rid herself of his demon seeds. His negative energy and evil spirit will block her blessings and prevent her from ever meeting a man who represents anything that is positive and balanced.

She’ll continue to allow his disrespect, his demeaning, lying, doggish-ways, and will allow him to bring her ass down, dragging it through a whole bunch of changes. So, my point is, women need to be very, very careful of whom they open their legs to, and whom they allow to nut up in them; everything that feels good ain’t always good. A woman might find herself getting more than what she bargained for. No need to turn this into a debate. It’s only something for you to think about. The only thing I’m trying to do is save some of your dumb asses from getting fucked over. So, beware. You’ve been forewarned.

Oh, please. Here some of you go, rolling your eyes again, looking at me all sideways and whatnot. Thinking, this bitch got a lot of nerve to be talking when she’s fucking and sucking almost everything moving. Well, news flash, dear: I already know that this applies to me as well. However, I’m fucking them, not claiming any of ’em as my man, or trying to trap ’em into being something more than what they are, casual fucks. A choice I recognize is full of risks. Let’s be realistic. What doesn’t come with a set of hazards? Life is full of ’em.

Every man who I am with steps into this knowing that there’s nothing but sex between us. I’m not lying or misleading anyone. And I’m not cheating on anyone. Nor am I willingly letting a man stick his dick in me without a condom. I may throw caution to the wind and fuck with reckless abandon, but I’ll be dammed if I willingly get fucked raw. And, yes, I know condoms aren’t 100% risk free, but it greatly reduces the potential risk. And since abstinence isn’t on the menu for me, I’ll go with the condoms. Good-day!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I blink.

Garrett is standing before me, leaning up against the frame of my front door. And I am shocked and annoyed, to say the least. What if I had someone else pulling up, or walking out? The fucking nerve of him to show up here unannounced and uninvited!

I take a moment to consider him before I speak. He’s wrapped in smooth, cocoa-brown skin with bright, dreamy eyes that seem to sparkle when he smiles. I drink him all in. From his neatly trimmed mustache, gym-chiseled body and slightly bowed legs to the way he pulls in his bottom lip. I can’t front, he is looking so damn delicious that I almost forget that I am pissed at him for showing up at my place. My lust for what hangs between his hairy, muscular thighs slowly creeps up on me, causing my mind to play wicked, sex-driven tricks on me.

For a brief second, I silently stare, toying with the mental images of him snatching open my robe, pinning me up against the wall, unzipping his jeans, then pulling out his hard, strong dick and shoving it up in my pussy. In a rhythm that matches the stroke of his powerful cock, I am suspended, moving my hips against his; his balls smashing against the softness of my open, wet, pulsating snatch until I feel the budding of an orgasm. I hear myself moan.

I blink again, feeling flushed.

Garrett is staring back at me. Perplexed look on his face. Un-blinking, I know he is wondering why the hell I am standing here looking at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Are you going to let me?” he asks, slicing into my fantasy.

I inhale, deeply. Take in his freshly-showered scent. Why the fuck can’t he just stick to the damn script? “What are you doing here?” I finally ask, already knowing the answer. I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Fold my arms across my chest to block his view of my dark, protruding nipples.

“I told you, we need to talk—tonight.”

“And I told you there’s nothing to talk about,” I say defiantly.

He squints. His jaw muscles twitch. I can tell he is thinking, pondering a way to get his point across. He pushes his way past me, bum rushes his way into my house, almost knocking me over.

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