Page 25 of The Man Handler

I frown. Who the fuck does he think he is questioning me? “Excuse me?”

“I asked you why you said it, if you didn’t mean it.”

“What is this, an interrogation?” I’m feeling myself becoming agitated.

“No, it’s us—two people who spend time together—having a discussion, and me asking you a question for clarification.”

“Oh, okay,” I say.

“I don’t ever want there to be any misunderstandings between us,” he adds.

“Well, I said it because it felt like the right thing to do, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Baby, check this out,” he says. He pauses, then continues. “You can’t hurt my feelings if you keep shit real with me. I’m not gonna lie to you or mislead you, and I hope you won’t either. Just because I feel a certain way, that doesn’t mean I expect you to feel it too. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would like you to. But I’m smart enough to know that’s not how the world moves. All I ask is that you keep shit real. Is that cool?”

“

Garrett, I’ve always been straight up with you.”

“Yeah, aiight,” he says, sounding skeptical, “if you say so. Sometimes I think you got me confused with some of those little-ass, confused boys that you have swarming around you. I’m a man, baby. I know what I want. Believe that. Look, I gotta get going. I’ll call you a little later, alright?”

For some reason, I feel like he’s just finished checking me, and is now dismissing me. I consider giving him a good piece of my mind, letting him know that he isn’t running shit with me, but…instead, I acquiesce and allow him to think he is. Hell, I am still exhausted from my night with Ian, and don’t have the strength or energy to waste on Garrett with this mess. Not today. “That’s up to you,” I finally say.

I hear, click.

I know he didn’t hang up on me, I think, getting out of bed and sliding my feet into my slippers. “That motherfucker is really losing his damn mind,” I say aloud as I shuffle into the bathroom to relieve myself. “And I’m crazy for letting him get away with it.” When I am finished pissing, I wash my hands, then retreat back to the comforts of my bed.

I don’t awake again until after one o’clock, and by the time I finally decide to get out of bed, it’s already going on two in the afternoon. At almost four o’clock, I still haven’t showered. I’m sitting here in my silk robe listening to my girl Syleena Johnson’s CD Chapter 3: The Flesh. I love her!

She has this song titled “Phone Sex” that I’ve played three times today. Whew! I love me some nasty, freaky phone sex. Mmmph. Baby…let me tell you. There’s nothing like it. How many women and men do you think get off on phone sex, or have even tried it? I personally think it helps keep things exciting.

There is so much power in mind-fucking, sexually speaking that is. To create the mood, to be able to role-play fantasies, to be able to bring someone to the edge of an orgasm by taunting and sensually teasing them. Then when they’re about to cum, you make ’em slow down or stop, then start back again. Bring ’em to the edge again, and again, making them stop each time they are about to nut. Torture them in sweet, delicious whispers until they can no longer take it; until they are begging you, moaning and groaning, for the real thing. My God!

For anyone who hasn’t tried it, I say shame on ’em. And for those who can’t get into it, I say humph. Boriiiiiiing! Of course, I know there are some people who would only become sexually frustrated with phone sex, especially men. I had a man tell me he’s cool with it (and with foreplay) for a while. But after thirty minutes or so, he was ready to fuck. I was like, ohhhhkaaaaay. Click. There was no need in trying to go any further with him. No man is going to short-change me when it comes to foreplay or role-play. And any man who can’t open his mind to phone sex, or lacks a creative imagination, is not for me. End of discussion.

Anywaaaaaaay, moving on, let me ask you something: Does having sexual fantasies about being with the same sex mean I’m a budding lesbian? Or does it simply mean I’m curious? ’Cause let me tell you, the last few days I have been fantasizing about having a woman eat my coochie while I’m sucking a cock. I’ve had fantasies in the past where it’s strictly me and another chick, and I’m fucking her with a double-headed dildo. Other times, it’s with me, another chick, and a dude. Chick is riding him reverse cowgirl—with her back toward him, for those of you who might not know. His legs are spread open and hers are draped over his and I’m on my knees between both of their legs, rubbing her clit, sucking his balls and licking her pussy juice as it drips down the shaft of his dick. It gets me off every time.

But as of late, my fantasies consist of me lying flat on my back with my head hanging off the bed. My legs are bent and my knees pulled up to my chest and a cute little cat licker is between my legs lapping and nipping at my clit, then tongue-fucking and sucking my pussy voraciously while a tall, dark-chocolate daddy is skull-fucking me with his fat, juicy dick, stretching my throat and slapping my forehead with his balls. Whew, baaaaby, listen…there’s nothing like a good dick-swabbing. OhmyGod, the thought gets my pussy juice boiling every damn time. And now it has me wanting to slam down on some dick, or at the very least, grind my pussy down on a pair of wet, hungry lips.

Hmmm, let’s see, I think, scrolling through my cell phone contact list. Who can I hit up for a quick fix? Who am I in the mood for tonight?

I purse my lips, contemplating. But before I can decide on my fuck for the night, my cell rings. I don’t recognize the number, but answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” the voice on the other end says.

“Baby?” I repeat with attitude. “Who is this?”

“Damn, baby,” he says, “you done forgot my voice that fast? It’s Benson.”

I frown, then let out a disgusted grunt. “Ohhhhhkaaaaaay, and why are you calling?”

“I was hoping to—”

Oh hell no, I think, shaking my head. I cut him off before he can part his lips to finish his request to hit this pussy. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but there’s no sense in hoping ’cause it’s not gonna happen, boo.”

“Why, you got some other plans? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

---