Page 46 of The Man Handler

“No questions asked?” I ask, looking him in the eyes. “Just fuck and go.”

He nods. “No questions asked; just two horny adults fucking,” he assures me. I open up the nightstand drawer and pull out another Durex condom, handing it to him. He grins.

“Oh, word?”

I walk over towards my dresser with the mirror, bend over and spread open my ass. I speak to him, looking in the mirror. “This is your test. I want you to yank me by the hair, slap my ass, and fuck me from the back deep and hard.”

He rolls the condom over his dick, walking up behind me. “And if I pass?”

“Then maybe you can keep fucking me on demand.”

“Baby,” he says, slapping my ass. “I have no problem fucking you anyway you want it.”

“And when you’re ready to cum, I want you to spray your nut all over my ass. Then put your clothes on and get out. Can you handle that?”

“No doubt,” he says, dipping at the knees, then rubbing the head of his dick all over the back of my still wet, tingly pussy.

“Fuck me,” I urge in a throaty whisper. He wraps a fistful of my hair in his hand and yanks my head back, slamming his dick so hard and deep into me, I think he’s going to knock my uterus off the hinges. I moan. “Yes. Yes. Like that. Beat my pussy up, nigga.”

He places his left hand on my shoulder, then alternately slaps each ass cheek, purposefully pumping himself in and out of me in deep, rapid succession. I match his rhythm, rotating my pussy, slamming my ass back onto his dick. I can feel every inch of his cock inside of me, stroking and stretching me. My body trembles as an orgasm begins to swirl through my body. Wade grabs me by the waist, his hands gripping tightly on either side of me, and bangs the shit out of me.

“Ah…ah…yessssssss…fuck me!”

“Ah, shit, this is some good pussy.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I chant.

Wade grunts, then abruptly pulls his dick out of me. I glance over my shoulder and watch as he snatches the condom off. He frantically pumps his dick in and out of his hand. “Ah, shit…” he moans. “I don’t know what the fuck you doing to me…”

“Give me that hot nut, nigga. Yeah, nigga…Bust that nut all over my fat ass.”

“Ah, shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,” he groans, splattering his nut all over my ass and lower back.

Ten minutes later, Wade is dressed and on his way out the door. There are no good-byes, no thank-yous betwee

n us; just the afterglow of a good fuck.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Today is one those “don’t-fuck-with-me-’cause-I-got-too-much-shit-to do-and-I’m-not-in-the-motherfucking-mood-for-any-bullshit” days. I’m in my office—at my desk, my fingers rapidly moving, clicking, against the keys of my computer. I am diligently trying to stay focused so I can complete my department’s end of the month status report. But, for some reason, my mind keeps wandering—to Garrett; to Wade. Two handsome, masculine, hard-working men who enjoy fucking me, but want more than what I’m offering—this sweet, gushy pussy. Two men whom I enjoy fucking, but want nothing more than what hangs between their legs—two beautiful, mouthwatering, thick, veiny chocolate cocks, alternately thrusting in and out of my sizzling snatch, consume my thoughts and I don’t fucking know why.

Okay, okay, I do know. Because I’m greedy, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to experiment with more than one dick in my bed at the same time, especially when it’s with two men who equally know how to slay the pussy. Besides, I know them, and I know how much they crave my wet, sticky, cunt juice all over their cocks.

My preoccupation with fucking them both simultaneously, having both of them filling my holes—stretching them wide and deep to capacity—from one end to the other, causes my walls to tighten. I shift in my seat, and squeeze my legs together, trying to pinch away the throbbing in my pussy. I can feel my panties getting moist as I envision having a ménage À trois—two sets of hands, roaming all over my body; two sets of lips, sucking my nipples; two sets of tongues, licking my pussy and clit; two sets of teeth, nibbling on my ass cheeks; two sets of balls for me to suck on, and gargle; two delicious dicks to rub together and deep throat, to mount and ride with reckless abandon.

Mmmm…oh, yes…I can feel my clit swelling.

My BlackBerry vibrates on my desk, shuddering as if it were having its own mini-orgasm, disrupting my own. A tinge of jealousy sweeps through me at the thought. I let out a long, exaggerated sigh. I pick up the device and remove it from its pink leather case, then lean back in my executive chair.

I have received sixty emails from my various email accounts. But the one that is of the most interest to me at this very moment is from one of my old yahoo accounts: Nutcracker69. It’s an email from the screen name DickUdownallnight. I open and read it, slowly scrolling down through its contents.

Hey, baby,

What’s good with you? Just hitting you up to see if I can come through and dick you down and crack this nut down your throat like old times, baby. Hope this is your right email address.

I frown, then reread the lines, trying to figure out who the hell this is. I check out the screen name again. It doesn’t ring a bell. I try to think who had this particular email address. At least fifty, sixty, niggas, I think, shaking my head. But whoever he is, it has to be either someone I met online years ago, or someone I used to date—before I became anti-dating. And, obviously, it’s someone I’ve fucked—and fucked good. I continue reading:

I tried to hit you on your cell, but it’s the wrong number. And I see you done bounced from your spot over on Jefferson Ave.

---