Page 6 of The Man Handler

“I sure was,” I say, moaning. “Had my fingers all up in my hot pussy, and all over my slippery clit. And, yes, I came all over myself.” I stick my fingers back into my mouth, and start making loud sucking sounds. “Mmmm Mmmm…finger licking good,” I tease.

“Damn, that’s wassup, baby. I always loved it when you got that pussy nice and wet for me. Mmmph, fuck! I can’t wait to slide this dick up in that fat, juicy—”

I laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, boo,” I say.

“I ain’t laughing,” he replies, sounding annoyed.

“Well, I am. You gotta lot of nerve to think you can call me out the blue, and I’m supposed to welcome you with open legs and a wet pussy. Nigga, make no mistake. You won’t be sliding a damn thing up in this sweet snatch. Not tonight; not ever again.”

“So, what you saying…I can’t come through?”

I pull the cell from my ear, turning my lips up at his dumb ass. What the fuck?! It baffles me how some men really think because they’re packing dick and tapped a chick’s ass up and dug her back out a few times that he can hit it anytime he wants it ’cause he’s that nigga. That may be the case for some chicks, but it definitely doesn’t apply to me.

“Uh, basically,” I say, placing the phone back up against my ear.

“Damn, that’s fucked up. You got me over here with my shit all bricked up.”

“Oh, well. You’ll be alright.”

“So, it’s like that, huh? You really gonna do me like that. Leave a nigga hangin’?”

“Yep.”

“You real fucked up.”

“And so is your crusty-ass back,” I snidely reply.

“Oh, you got jokes, right?”

“You don’t hear me laughing,” I say. “I’ve already had your dick, and if you recall correctly, I done fucked it every which way imaginable. So there really is nothing else you can do for me.”

“You can be a real bitch, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I know. And don’t forget to add ho to your list.”

“Check this—”

“Good night, Vinnie,” I say, cutting him off. “And while you’re at it, do us both a favor—lose my number. Oh, and by the way, thanks again for the nut.”

Before he can open his mouth to say anything else, I end the call. I turn off the light, then turn over on my side—sticky and exhausted—and drift back to sleep, chasing the remainder of my dream.

CHAPTER FOUR

You know, I’m sitting here thinking that I’d better make a few things clear so that we’re al

l on the same page before you start passing judgment on me or trying to label me as some wounded trollop. See, the reason I fuck the way I do has nothing to do with some deeply rooted, unresolved psychological and emotional bullshit. Please don’t get caught up in that textbook hype. My upbringing doesn’t have a damn thing to do with my hunger for dick. This is who I am, and this is who I choose to be. I refuse to live my life in a box constructed (and confined) by the thoughts, beliefs, or feelings of others. So if I choose to suck or fuck a dick every hour on the damn hour, that’s my business. Honestly, in the grand scheme of things, with the recession, the collapse of the stock and housing markets, and all the killings and crooked shit going on in the world, is my fucking really that big of a deal?

I mean, really. I don’t want or need anyone trying to psycho-analyze me. No, I was never sexually, physically, or emotionally abused by anyone. I was never neglected or deprived. Nor am I the product of a dysfunctional family. So there are no wounds to heal. My father didn’t beat up on my mother, run out on her, abuse substances, or abandon me. I come from a very loving, two-parent household. Both of my parents were hard workers who now live in San Diego. My mother is a retired elementary school teacher, and my father is a retired police officer. I am the youngest of seven, and the only girl. And none of us ever wanted for anything, especially me. So let’s be clear. There’s nothing wrong with my self-esteem, and I’m not scarred from some traumatic experience.

I fuck because it’s something that I enjoy doing. Some people find pleasure in reading a good book. Some people gamble. Some people shop. Some people drink and use drugs. Well, I take pleasure in the feel of a stiff dick. And ain’t a damn thing wrong with it. We all have our vices, and fucking is mine.

See, the difference between me and most chicks who randomly fuck and suck niggas: I know what I am. I don’t try to hide it, or make any excuses for it. I am what I am. I am a grown-ass woman. I am adventurous, uninhibited, spontaneous, and unrepressed. Hello. I am a nymph. I love dick! And I do what I wanna do because I can.

And make no mistake; there’s absolutely no shame in my game. I am my pussy, and my pussy is me. Sweet, juicy, tight, and finger-licking good! Intoxicating, addicting, mystifying. My pussy beats to its own pulse. And it craves dick. Hell, I crave dick! I love a man who can match me stroke for stroke, a man who can serve me the dick inch by inch, a man who can make my toes curl, my eyes roll up in the back of my head, and have me speaking in tongues. Oh, yes…that’s the kind of man I love. And that’s exactly the kind of man currently hovering over me, sliding his thick dick with its huge mushroom head deep into my slickness.

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