Page 88 of The Man Handler

I glance over at the handsome passenger sitting next to me and catch him eyeing me. He is no longer working on his puzzle. Instead, he is sipping on a glass of champagne. By the look in his eyes, he’s had more than one glass. I take in his clean-shaven face. Admire his tanned skin, dark eyes and chiseled features. I don’t see any ring on his thick finger.

“Are you married?” I decide to ask.

“Divorced,” he answers. “And you?”

I glance down in his crotch. “Extremely horny,” I say in a whisper, slowly licking my lips.

He gives me a mischievous smirk, taking a long gulp from his flute.

“You know, I was staring at you earlier. You are a very beautiful woman.”

“Thank you.” I lean into his ear again and whisper. “Have you ever slipped your dick into a black woman?”

“I love all women, Beautiful,” he says. “I don’t discriminate. Will you be staying in Frankfurt?”

“No, I’m catching a connecting flight to Cairo,” I share.

“That’s too bad. I would have loved to continue this discussion, and perhaps further explore each other’s passions, in a more private setting.”

I look around the spacious cabin. There is only a sprinkle of people flying first class. “Well, it’ll be dark soon. And we still have several hours before we land.” I pause, giving him time to absorb what I am offering. I reach for my purse and discreetly pull out a box of condoms. He nods, knowingly. “Perhaps,” I continue, lightly touching his knee, “I can entice you to some slow, wet head, then a little dose of sweet pussy.”

He lifts his flute, grinning. “Perhaps you can.” He squeezes his legs shut, allowing me to see the meaty bulge that has formed in his lap. I fight the urge to touch it, to stroke it against the fabric of his slacks.

“In another hour, I will slip into the bathroom. Wait five minutes, to make sure no one is paying attention, then come in behind me.”

He finishes his drink, licking his lips. This time he leans over towards me and whispers in my ear, “And I’m going to fuck that sweet black pussy like no other man has.”

I lean my head back, and smile. The thought of giving a stranger some of this juicy pregnant pussy excites me and is making my panties wet. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Why should I pass up this opportunity to get fucked on a plane? Oh, alright, if it’d make some of you judgmental hoes feel better, how ’bout I let him fuck me in the ass, depending on how fat his dick is, instead of giving him some pussy? Would that make you feel better? Geesh. Then again, I don’t give a hot shit what the hell any of you think. I’m a grown ass woman! My slick cunt muscles constrict. Oh, yes, I think, shifting in my seat. I’m gonna suck and fuck the shit out of this fine-ass man. Hell, I’m knocked up, not disabled. Besides, I’m the Man Handler, baby. And I love to fuck!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cairo resides in New Jersey, where he is finishing up his next literary creation, Daddy Long Stroke. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name. You can visit the author at www.myspace.com/Cairo2u, www.blackplanet.com/Cairo2u, or email the author at [email protected]

IF YOU LIKED “THE MAN HANDLER,” YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE “DADDY LONG STROKE.” ENJOY A LITTLE TASTE...

DADDY LONG STROKE

COMING SOON FROM STREBOR BOOKS

ONE

Damn, I love eatin’ pussy. ’Specially when a broad got that sweet ’n tangy, saucy-type pussy that sticks on the tip of my tongue. Or that juicy, gushy-type pussy that squirts into my mouth, then drips down my chin as I slurp it all up. Man, listen…there’s nuthin’ like havin’ a chick squattin’ up over my face, sittin’ her pussy down on this long tongue, or havin’ her on her back wit’ her legs up over my shoulders and my face buried deep between them smooth thighs while I’m tongue-drillin’ her, or havin’ her bent over a chair wit’ her ass spread open and my tongue deep-strokin’ her from her asshole to the back of her slit—while I’m beatin’ my dick, or got her throatin’ it.

Mmmph, mmmph, mmph…I love the way it tastes, and smells—well, provided the ho isn’t a walkin’ fish market, smellin’ like sewage, or leakin’ a buncha shit that looks like snot or cottage cheese, feel me? A smelly bitch, forget it…no tongue, no dick, nada—it’s a muthafuckin’ wrap! But a chick who keeps that box right…mmmph, man, listen…finger lickin’ good! There’s nuthin’ more intoxicatin’ than the savorin’ scent of a clean, excited pussy oozin’ wit’ hot, sticky juices. Gotdaaaaamn, talkin’ ’bout gobblin’ up a pussy got my dick bricked like a muhfucka, word up. And, on some real shit, I love eatin’ it almost as much as I love fuckin’ it.

I also like to kiss on the pussy. From soft, gentle kisses to deep, tongue-probin’ French-kissin’, I love havin’ my tongue and lips all up on it, and in it. Sometimes, I lay my tongue flat up against it, then flap it up and down, draggin’ it along the front and back of her slit. I use my mouth and tongue to stimulate all the sensitive areas of a bitch’s pussy and clit, circlin’ my tongue all over and ’round it. I listen to what makes a broad moan, and know when to change it up to give her that ultimate tongue experience.

Fuck what ya heard. Tongue-fuckin’ is sumthin’ a muhfucka should take pride in when doin’ it. Just like I expect a broad to handle this dick like she loves it, I expect the same shit from myself when it comes to eatin’ her pussy. I make love to that shit wit’ my mouth, lips, and tongue, eatin’ it like there’s a chocolate-covered cherry stuck dead in the center of her pussy. And the only way to get to that sweet muhfucka is by mountin’ ya wet mouth ’round it, then plungin’ ya tongue deep in it, lickin’, lappin’ stickin’, and flickin’ that hole ’til she starts buckin’ them hips up. See. A nigga like me is a greedy pussy eater, real talk. I ain’t tryna stop ’til a bitch’s walls start to shake, her asshole starts to ache, and she’s chantin’ to a higher power. That’s when I slowly slip these big-ass fingers in her, swirlin’ ’em ’round the inside of her cunt, pressin’ up on that G-spot while I’m suckin’ on her clit. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ma make sure she gets hers. And when her breath quickens, her body quivers, and her moans escalate, I start wildin’ out on the pussy—suckin’ and lickin’ her clit like a frantic, crazed-ass muhfucka ’til she nuts all over my tongue, hard. Then I ease up over top of her, slip my tongue in her mouth so she can taste her creamy juice on it, while I’m slidin’ this dick up in her. And by the time I’m done slayin’ her wit’ this wood, nine-times-outta ten, the bitch done forgot her name and address, done tossed me the keys to her whip, or done begged me to move in.

So, to my nigga’s who eat pussy: keep ya tongues wet, playas. And to those lame cats who act like they scared to taste the pussy, or who can’t e

at no pussy: You’se some wack-ass muhfuckas, word up! Get ya minds right, my niggas, and step ya tongue game up ’fore another muhfucka takes ya spot, real talk.

Nah, hol’ up! I ain’t sayin’ e’ery ho deserves to have her pussy eaten ’cause some of these broads out here are straight nasty. That’s why a muhfucka gotta use some discretion. But for the ones who keep that pussy lookin’ right and feelin’ right, a muhfucka gotta learn to let it do what it do, feel me? ’Cause trust me. I’ve had plenty of bitches drop major paper, or lace a muhfucka wit’ some wears, after I done served ’em a night of tongue lickin’, followed up wit’ a pussy beatdown wit’ this long-ass dick.

Like this trick I got holed up in my room right now. Shakeeta’s her name, a brown-skinned cutie from Irvington—wit’ a lil’ waist and one hundred and forty pounds of ass ’n titties. And, of course, she’s a ho I met offa Myspace. We been fuckin’ off and on for ’bout two months now, and she’s already sucked down my dick and swallowed my nut ’bout eight times. And I’ve fucked her ’bout three. Now, she’s actin’ like she’s in love wit’ a muhfucka. But tonight’s the first time I’m givin’ her this tongue treatment. And the only reason she’s gettin’ it now is ’cause she laced a muhfucka wit’ four pairs of 7 For All Mankind jeans and two pair of Gucci loafers for my birthday. Well, it ain’t my actual born day, but she doesn’t know that shit. Yo, relax. Sit tight. I’ll explain later.

Shit, hol’ up…let me introduce myself to ya’ll, first, before I start suckin’ the nut outta this broad’s fuck-box. Aiight, check it. I’ma six-foot-four, 215 pound—lean and solid, for the record—slightly bow-legged cat with dark-brown eyes, thick full lips, a chiseled chest, strong muscular back, and big hands. My government name is Alexander Maples. But my mans ’n ’em call me Alley Cat, ’cause a nigga like me is always prowlin’ ’round for some new pussy. However, on some real shit, I shoulda been named Hershey ’cause I’ma dark chocolate nigga that melts in ya mouth and all up in ya guts. Yeah, that’s right. I’m ya sweetest, most dangerous addiction. And I’m here to feed ya cravin’s—one stroke, one slurp, at a muthafuckin’ time.

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