Page 57 of The Man Handler

I blink, blink again.

Garrett stands up, pulls off his V-neck pullover sweater, kicks off his shoes, strips off his jeans, then steps out of his black knit boxer briefs. He stands before me in all of his naked glory. Beautiful, mesmerizing, sculpted pleasure. I will my pussy to be still; will my eyes from taking in the bulbous head of his semi-hard dick; the massiveness of his running back thighs. Force myself not to stare at his rippled stomach or the curly patch of hair that rests in the center of his defined chest. I can feel my heart beating. My hands are becoming sweaty. This is not how it is supposed to go down. He is not

supposed to be in my home taunting me. Not supposed to be standing in front of me with his dick in his hand, slowly stroking it into a thick, throbbing erection.

I swallow hard.

Damn him, for being so fine!

Damn me, for being so horny!

I open my robe. Just that quickly, I forget that a few minutes ago I was fuming at him. Forget that he is trying to make me into something I am not able to be. Forget that I have to stop fucking him before things spiral out of control. I allow myself to forget every one of my rules, all for the sake of riding his dick, one last time.

I spread open my legs, pull open my steamy, wet pussy lips.

“You want this sweet pussy?” I ask in a sultry whisper. I can feel myself shaking from the inside out as he walks up on me.

He pulls me up from out of my seat, presses his thick dick up against me.

My clit jumps.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want all that good pussy. And I want to serve you this dick anyway you want it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

My eyes snap open. Jolting up, I scan the room. It takes me a minute to get my bearings as my eyes adjust to my surroundings in the darkness. I am naked. My hair is disheveled, pussy is aching and Garrett is sleeping beside me, lightly snoring. I glance quickly at the digital clock. 3:21 a.m.

Fuck!

I inhale, exhale. Plop back on my pillow. I think about last night. How Garrett snatched me up and practically turned the tables—and manhandled me. Literally ripping my panties at the seams—the silk remnants of fabric still hanging around my waist—and sliding his dick in me full force. He took my pussy. Fucked it like he owned it; fucked my pussy, my ass, my throat to shreds. Let me tell you! I don’t know what the hell Garrett was on last night, but he dicked me down so damn good that he had me yelping and howling and sounding like a damn hyena. Had me moaning, and saying shit I know I had no damn business saying. Yes, he fucked me deliciously silly.

And right now, I am hoping he was too caught up in trying to knock this pussy out the frame and busting his nut to remember half the stuff that came out of my mouth. ’Cause, baaaaby, last night, I was in rare form.

I replay the scene in my head. “You gonna let me have this pussy, baby?”

“Uh, mmm…oh…yes,” I moaned.

He dug deeper, snapping his hips up against mine, hitting my spot.

“Oh, Garrett, I’ll never get tired of this big dick…oh, yes… I’ve been missing this good dick…Oh, damn, Daddy, no one fucks my pussy like you…Harder! Harder!”

“Yeah, you love this dick, don’t you?”

“Yes, Garrett, you’re making my pussy cum…I love this big dick, baby.”

“You want this big dick?” he asked, slamming it in and out of me, pounding the inside of my walls mercilessly. “You wanna make love to this dick?”

“Mmmph. Oh…fuck!”

He slowed his pace, pulled his dick out to the head, tip-drilled my slit, then slammed himself back in me with hard, deep, thrusts.

“Yesssssss…Oh, yesssssssssss…I want this dick in me every night…fuck your pussy, baby…oooooh, yes…just like that…I don’t want you giving this big dick to anyone else, but me…”

Ugh! And there you have it. Last night, I was saying mess like that and a whole bunch of other shit that has no damn value or purpose in the grand scheme of things. I mean, he didn’t say anything about it afterwards, but I know he damn sure was acting like he had hit the jackpot. Damn me! And damn him, for fucking me out of my damn mind!

I glance over at Garrett’s naked body, shaking my head. What the fuck am I doing? I close my eyes. Try to make sense out of what transpired. But I can not. There’s no logical, rational explanation as to why I have this man still lying in my bed. And most, importantly, there’s no sensible reason as to why my pussy still feels sopping wet.

I snap up in bed again.

---