Page 70 of The Man Handler

CHAPTER THIRTY

Okay, another question for you—and let’s see how many of you can get it right. What is the one thing that a man cherishes, and will die trying to protect; the one thing that will bring him the most drama if he isn’t able to be in control of it; the thing that will disrupt his life if not used wisely? Answer: His DICK!

Yes, his most prized possession. The thing he nurtures, and adores, and defines and measures his manhood by. The thing he takes pride in. The cock, the dick, the penis, the pipe, the wood, the schlong, the ding-dong, the ding-a-ling, the Jimmie, the Big Boy, the snake, the bamboo, the bozack, and a slew of other pet names assigned to describe his appendage. Hell, I remember having a man in my bed lying on his back with his legs spread wide, begging me to make his “hotdog” spit. Ugh! That was it for me. Dude had to go. Then there was one who had the nerve to tell me to suck the cream out of his “Twinkie.” Maybe it’s me, but a grown-ass man referring to his dick as a damn Twinkie has some serious issues, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m not sucking or fucking anything being likened to a damn sponge-cake filled with a bunch of white cream.

Anyway, dick (or whatever cute, little descriptive term used), is made to be sucked, to be fucked, to be pleased. And I have no problem doing what is necessary to take it on the most enjoyably wet, toe-curling ride of its life. I have no problem teasing it, tormenting it, or taming it.

And like I said before, when I’m fucking a man, my mission is to give him a total out-of-body experience. I want to take his breath away, then give it back. Make his damn toes curl, his nipples harden, his balls rattle, and his eyes roll all the way in the back of his head. Then when he’s about ready to bust that nut, make his body ripple with an electrical energy that shakes his soul. When I roll off of him, I know the mission is complete when he’s looking dazed and confused, then starts drooling and slurring his words, lying there paralyzed. Yep, I’ve fucked his ass into a stroke.

My phone rings. I am not familiar with the number, but I answer anyway. “Hello?”

“Hey, Beautiful,” the smooth, velvety voice says on the other end. “I’m in town for a few days and was hoping you had some time for me.”

It’s Maurice. He’s a cross country truck driver I met three years ago at a party in Brooklyn. He’s six-two, two hundred forty pounds of thick, dark-chocolate man meat who calls me whenever he’s in the area. The last time we fucked was about six months ago, so I’m down for another round of his nine and three-quarter inch dick with the thick vein running along the shaft. Mmmm. And of course he calls me, wanting to dip his dick into my sweetness. And, yes, he’s another man I’ve tongued down.

I smile. “Of course I do,” I say, imagining his pillow-soft lips on my nipples and clit. Mmmph. The thought of his dick up in my love basket sends chills down my spine. I’m telling you, there’s nothing like straddling a man’s face and cock, and riding his ass down into the mattress. Mmmm. And with Maurice, I can position his dick in me to hit every angle of my pussy and grind my clit against his pelvis to really get off. Oh, yes! The thought of shoving my panties in his mouth while I slam my wet, hot pussy down on his dick has me tingling. In my head, I hear myself telling him to lie back, and enjoy the damn ride. “What time you coming?”

“I’m on my way,” he says. “And I’m horny as hell, too.”

“Just how I like it,” I say, sliding my hands between my legs, then pulling open my lips. “Ooh, daddy,” I whisper. “I can’t wait to feel your dick in this pussy.”

“And this dick can’t wait to feel you,” he says. “I’ll be there in ’bout half an hour.”

I glance at the clock. 8:17 p.m. Oh, shit, I think, jumping out of the bed and racing to the bathroom. I have to freshen up this cat box.

Twenty minutes later, I am showered, and relaxed, and horny as hell. The thought of fucking Maurice has me on fire. I crave body contact, body heat. Humping and grinding. Mmm, I smell temptation in the air. Or is that sex? No, it’s Maurice ringing my doorbell.

I rub almond body butter into my smooth skin, then hurriedly pull out the bobbie pins that keep my wrap in place, and comb it out, allowing my hair to form around my face. I shake my hair,

admiring its shine and bounce, then add a splash of cherry wine lipstick onto my lips. I slip on my red-lace robe and slide my feet into my black mules. I give myself a once-over in the mirror. I smile. You a bad bitch, I think, smiling as I head down the stairs to let in the dick for the night.

When I open the door, Maurice is standing there, smiling and holding a bouquet of flowers that he obviously got from Shoprite. But I am appreciative of the gesture. I smile back at him. “For me?” I ask, feigning surprise. I take the rainbow assortment of roses from him and bring them up to my nose. “Mmm, they smell pretty.” Every time he comes through, he brings a different bouquet of flowers. The last time he was here he brought me a bunch of damn, big-ass sunflowers. What the hell! But I graciously accepted them anyway because it was the thought that counted. “You are going to have me spoiled if you keep bringing me flowers every time I see you.”

Before he even gets the door closed, he is pulling me into him and prying my lips open with his tongue. I allow his cinnamon-flavored tongue to dance with mine. It is his kissing that gets my already hot juices to stir between my legs. Like Garrett, Maurice is really more than just a fuck for me. I genuinely like him, but unfortunately not enough to have him as my man. However, I like him enough to allow him to kiss me, use my shower, rest, eat whatever food he might bring or order in—’cause I don’t do any cooking for a man who isn’t mine—and I even allow him to hang around after the sex. He still has to be out of here before the sun comes up. All that waking up in my bed, looking for breakfast or another dish of pussy is out.

“Damn, girl you look good,” he says, stepping back from me. “I missed the hell outta you.” He grabs his crotch area. “Look how hard you got my dick, baby.”

I reach for the lump that has formed down the inner part of his thigh and lightly squeeze. “Oooh,” I moan. “I can’t wait to feel this fat dick up in me. I hope you ate before you got here ’cause I’ma fuck the shit out you, and I don’t want you passing out on me.”

He laughs. “Baby, I got two weeks’ worth of nut for you. So we can fuck all night if you want. Just let me take a quick shower.”

I smile, taking him by the hand and leading him to the stairs. I walk in front of him, seductively swinging my hips as we climb the stairs. My ass cheeks peek out from under the edge of my robe, and he grabs for them, palming a handful of my ass with his big hand.

“Damn, I’ve missed all that fat ass. Looks like it’s gotten fatter since the last time I came through.”

I playfully smack his hand away, racing up the stairs. He laughs, following behind me. And as soon as we get into the bedroom, he pounces on me like a sex-starved lion ready to devour its prey. I fall back on the bed and he falls on top of me, kissing me with a passion I never knew he possessed. And this shocks and excites me.

His tongue dances alongside of mine. It is eager and demanding. His kiss is causing electrical waves to jolt through my body. He is sucking on my bottom lip. I am sucking on his top lip, then his bottom lip. My pussy aches for his deep strokes. My clit pulses for his touch. I know I will fuck him right now if he doesn’t get off of me and go take his shower.

“Hold up, baby,” I say, prying his lips from mine. “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kisses me again. “I know. I’ve missed you.”

“I can tell,” I say, smiling. I lean back on my right forearm, then raise my legs—bending them at the knees—and open them wide, showing him my dripping snatch. “And look how much this pussy missed you.”

He leans in and kisses the slit of my pussy, then slides his tongue in and stirs my fire. I let out a soft moan. “Oh, yes…eat that pussy baby. Mmmph…” He flicks my clit, then mounts his mouth over it and sucks on it, causing it to swell. I fall back on the bed, rest my legs up over his shoulders, then press his head deep in between my thighs. I thrust my hips upward. Fuck his face. Grind my pussy onto his soft lips and thick tongue. “Oh, yes…Oh, yes…oh, yes,” I chant. An orgasm is crashing against my walls, shaking my uterus. He senses this, and sticks his thick middle finger, then his index finger, inside of me, massaging the roof of my pussy. I twist and moan.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?”

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