Page 3 of The Man Handler

See, that’s the problem with a lot of these big-dick niggas, which is why I sometimes wonder if dick size really matters, or is it really all about the motion of the ocean? Well, I guess it does matter depending on what you’re in the mood for. Truth be told, I’ve had men as long as eleven and a half inches and as thick as a cucumber, some as short as six inches and as thick as a beer can, and others in between and as thin as a pencil. And what I’ve found is that the ones who fall short in the length department tend to make up for it in other areas, like eating the pussy until your uterus shakes. Most of ’em definitely have a crazy tongue game. And most (not all) men with a long, thick dick—like Benson’s sorry ass—tend to be lazy with it. Mostly due to the fact that they get so much attention from dick-crazed women that they think they don’t have to put in any work or make any effort to ensure you get yours too. They either want to lay back and expect you to do all the damn work, or they cum quicker than a rabbit. Ugh! There’s nothing more distressing than a big-dick mofo with a whacked-ass sex game.

And the ones who know exactly how to work the hell out of it, giving you blood-curdling orgasms, have been gassed up by women (and I have been guilty of doing it too) to believe that they’re God’s gift to women based on the size of their dick. But I’ll admit, engaging in sex with a big dick can definitely be rather intoxicating, if its owner is on point. Unfortunately, this particular night with Benson, I was fucking gypped!

Anyway, in terms of dick size, I suspect it’s those chicks with the four-finger and fist pussies constantly complaining about the size of a man’s dick. A man can’t even finger-pop her coochie without her snatch sucking in his whole damn hand. Their holes are so beat up and stretched out the frame that fucking them with an average-size dick would be like trying to fuck the Atlantic Ocean. Humph.

Now, to be perfectly honest with you, when a man is up inside of me, I do need to feel him knocking these walls around. But he doesn’t always have to knock the bottom out. Give me a thick dick with a whole lot of motion and I’m good to go. And if I’m going to suck a dick, then it needs to fill my wide mouth, and not feel like I’m sucking on a damn Tic-Tac. And if I’m going to jerk a dick off I want to be able to use both of my hands—not a set of tweezers, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, I believe the reason my snatch snaps back, and grips a dick with ease is because I alternate the dick. I don’t stick with one dick type. I fuck ’em all. And no matter how many dicks I ride, it’s because of that fact that I’m able to maintain this five-star pussy. Think what you like, I’m telling you what I know.

Oh, the power of dick…how it can have a chick lose her mind over it. How it can force a woman to forget everything that is rational, and pure, and have her caught up in the drama of chasing it down, fighting over it, and having babies by it, knowing damn well the man attached to it is not gonna take care of her or them little snotty-nosed crumb snatchers. I had a dude I was once fucking actually say: “A bitch will know that I’m fucking other chicks and still give me the keys to her car, let me lay up in her spot, and even hit me with money outta her bank accounts, all because I rammed my big dick up in her guts and fucked the shit outta her dumb ass.”

I simply stared at him, and could do nothing but shake my head because I knew what he spoke held truth. Then he added, “If I fuck you and see any signs of weakness or stupidity over how good I’ve thrashed your back out, then I’m gonna run your dumb ass straight through the mud. And that’s real talk.”

Well, all I can say is this: I’m so damn glad I’ve never succumbed to such madness. And I don’t really feel sorry for these chicks who have this “knowledge” and still allow themselves to get played. Shame on ’em. And to add to the craziness, I have to shake my head at the men who measure their manhood by the length of their dicks, and the number of women they fuck, use, or have fighting over them.

I don’t even know why I got on this topic ’cause the more I think about it, the more disgusted I find myself getting with these stupid-assed, dick-whipped, scatter-brained women out here with their ridiculous antics over what’s hanging between a man’s legs. It’s obvious there’s a whole lot of strength behind the thrust of a cock. ’Cause, baby, dick, like good pussy, will flat out have a chick doing some crazy shit if she lets it control her. She becomes possessed by the dick. And before you know it she has turned into a weak-minded, emotionally unstable bitch—even if only for a moment. I’m seeing more and more women doing dumb shit behind a damn piece of dick. Dick will have a woman walking out on her husband, abandoning her children. It will have her lying and stealing and pushing drugs. Dick will have her dismissing all of her friends. It will have her selling her pussy. Dick will have her risking her life and health. It will have her begging and crying, and fighting other women, knocking on doors, and playing childish-ass phone games. It will have her plotting and scheming to have someone else’s man. Ugh! And it will have her dumb ass losing everything she owns because she has allowed it to fuck her silly ass into stupidity. Humph

. As bad as I don’t want to admit it, dick is dangerous! And I have one thing to say: All hail to the Almighty King Ding-a-ling!

CHAPTER THREE

“Hello?” I answer groggily.

“Hey, baby. You up?” the voice on the other end asks in a seductive whisper.

I rub my eyes and glance over at the digital clock on my night-stand. I squint to make sure I’m not hallucinating. 3:15 a.m. My eyes widen. What in the hell?! “Please tell me you have lost your damn mind,” I snap through clenched teeth, “calling me this time of the morning when I have to be up for work in another three hours.”

“Damn, baby, I ain’t mean to wake you,” he says, almost sounding apologetic. But I know enough to know that this mofo isn’t sorry about shit. “I thought you might be up thinking about this dick.”

He chuckles.

I roll my eyes, letting out a disgusted sigh.

Now had this been six or seven months ago, I would have graciously accepted his call with the promise of wetting his dick up nice and slow. And with Vince, the one thing I was always guaranteed was a dose of mouth-watering, powerhouse dick. But that was then, and this is now.

“Oh, really?” I sarcastically inquire, sitting up in bed. I am pissed that he has awakened me from a delicious, pussy-pleasing dream—one that has left me sopping wet. I turn on the night lamp, sighing. “Well, I’m not! So why are you calling me so early?”

“You’ve been on my mind.”

“Ohhhhkaaaay. And you had to call at me this hour to let me know this, right?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

I suck my teeth. “Since when?”

“C’mon, baby,” he says, lowering his voice. “Don’t play. You know how I feel ’bout you. I got you on the brain like crazy. I’ve been real fucked up lately, missing you and shit.”

Now a lonely, simple-minded bitch would fall headfirst for this line of bullshit he’s dishing out. And before you knew it, he’d be slamming his dick in her ass, twisting her guts out. But I’m not the one.

“Humph,” I grunt. “That’s a shame. I haven’t talked to you in months. Now all of a sudden, you got me renting space in your head.”

“Yeah, something like that,” he says. “I still don’t dig how shit went down with us. You dissed a brotha, setting egg timers ’n shit, talkin’ ’bout my time expired. What kinda shit was that? You was on some real foul shit, for real, for real. But just like this big-ass dick, it’s all good.”

I chuckle to myself, remembering the ding of the egg timer alerting me that his fifteen minutes of tongue-fucking me was up. I had already told him prior to his coming over that he was only getting fifteen minutes of pussy because I had already recruited someone else to take his spot. The nigga thought I was bullshitting. Had he been smart, he would have licked my cat for five minutes, then used the other ten to stroke it with his dick, but he didn’t. And when the bell went off, I politely pushed his head and face from outta the center of my crotch and told him to get out. Poor thing looked at me with his eyes popped wide open and my creamy pussy juice smeared all over his face and lips, looking like a damn glazed fool.

“Whaaat?!?!” he had snapped. “You buggin’, right?”

“Does it look like I’m bugging?” I asked, slipping on my robe and turning off the stereo. The party was over.

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