The Man Handler Read online

  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.

  Face contorted, hips bucking and grinding, lips smacking, tongues licking and lapping and flicking against each other. Oh, he’s fucking me so damn good. His name is Garrett. Six-four, two hundred and thirty solid pounds of muscled man dipped in smooth, milk chocolate with a thick, eight-inch dick that points upward. He also has a beautiful smile and mesmerizing brown eyes that have a way of piercing deep into my soul. If this were a perfect world, if my heart was open and unhardened, I could probably fall in love with him.

  However, I am at a point in my life where I’m living for the moment. I have no expectations of anyone (particularly men), and I don’t want anyone having any of me. Expectations open the door for disappointments and misunderstandings. And I’m not interested in either. So I like to keep it simple. Just fuck and go.

  Oh, no, boo-boo. Please don’t ever think I’m some lonely, lost, confused woman. Never that! And, yes, I fuck without any emotional connection to these men. Not that I’m not capable of loving or afraid of loving ’cause I’ve been there, done that. But right now, love is the last thing on my mind. Most of the men I fuck are emotionally unavailable anyway, so why would I want anything more than a stiff dick and long tongue from ’em? So, yes, I am very detached when it comes to fucking and men. Some may call it empty, meaningless sex. That’s cool with me. As long as I’m keeping my pussy well fucked and wet, what the hell does love have to do with anything?

  Garrett slowly pulls his dick out, then plunges it back in. “Mmmph…” He pulls out again, plunges back in, then pulls out again, leaving the head in. He tip drills me, tickling the opening of my pussy, teasing it. “Mmmph…Put your dick in…put your dick in…put your dick in…” I chant, reaching for him, trying to pull him into me. He grabs me by the wrists and slams them back onto the bed up over my head, pinning them down. I buck my hips, desperate to feed all of my pussy with his thickness. “Stop teasing me, Garrett,” I warn, practically begging.

  “Is this what you want?” he asks, slamming his dick back into me, then going into a nice, slow grind before picking up his pace.

  “Uh,” I moan. My lust-swollen clit flutters as the thickness of Garrett’s eight-inch dick strokes against it while he pumps it in and out of me, stretching and smashing against my pussy walls.

  “You like that dick?” he asks, letting my wrists go, then reaching up under me and palming my ass.

  “Ummph,” I moan again, grabbing him by his firm ass, digging my nails into him, and pulling him deeper into me. I have my left leg wrapped around his waist and my right leg up over his shoulder. “Oh, yes…fuck me. Oh, shit, the dick is so good.”

  Now, between you and me, what I like about fucking Garrett is, I don’t have to pretend that the dick is good. It is good. No scratch that, this nigga’s dick is the closest thing to heaven. It’s fucking D-I-V-I-N-E. Anytime he comes through and serves me, it’s always on point and I’m guaranteed a fantabulous fuck session. Lord knows I can’t stand a lazy-dick man. And there’s nothing worse than a can’t-heat-the-pussy-up-right-clumsy-fuck nigga, poking and stabbing at nothing. Ugh! What a bore, and a damn waste! And trust me, I have had my share of men who can’t fuck the pussy, can’t eat the pussy, and can’t make the pussy do what it do. That shit burns me the hell up. Those are the ones who never get invited back between my legs. So this is probably one of the reasons I keep Garrett around. Okay, besides the fact that he’s also extremely fine.

  He grunts and lifts up on his hands in push-up position as he pounds in and out of me, beating my pussy like it stole something from him. “Aaah, shit, this pussy’s good,” he says, bringing me back to the reason why I’m lying on my back with my legs wrapped around his body.

  A slight smile spreads across my face as I watch Garrett toss back his head, closing his eyes and biting down on his bottom lip. Sweat drips from his face, rolls down the center of his chest, and drips down on me. I reach up and roll his nipples between my fingers, then lightly pinch them. My pussy sloshes a bucket of sweet, creamy cum all over his dick.

  “Oh, fuck. Damn, baby,” he moans.

  “You like this pussy?” I ask, pulling him into me by the back of his neck, then slipping my tongue deep into his mouth. We kiss for about twenty tongue-probing seconds before he pulls back for air, trying to steady his balance. Without much effort, I clench and unclench my pussy, gripping and releasing his dick, causing a popping sound every time he rams it in and out of me.

  “Hell yeah,” he moans, gripping my hips tighter. “Damn, I love this pussy.” He says what I already know. But I ask because I like hearing the obvious. Truth be told, I haven’t fucked a man yet who hasn’t loved the feel of this sweet valley, who hasn’t craved to have his dick wet by its cream, or who hasn’t begged for more. And usually, I give them exactly what it is they desire.

  “Yeah, daddy, just like that. Oh, yes…hit that pussy,” I urge, arching my back and digging the back of my head into my goose-filled pillow. I feel an orgasm building inside of me, pushing against the walls of my uterus. I love the way his dick stretches me open. “Oooh, uh…”

  You want to know one of the things I love about men: their balls. My mouth starts to water thinking about ’em. If a man’s hanging low, that’s always a plus. I love a man with big, heavy balls that hang. I call ’em nut clackers. Mmmm. There’s something about seeing his balls swinging and smacking between his legs while he’s standing with his legs spread apart, dipping his knees, pumping his dick in his hands at full speed. That shit turns me on. Especially when I’m lying back playing in my pussy while watching him jack off. Mmmm. And don’t let his balls slap up against my pussy while he’s slamming his dick in and out of me. Oh, Lawd! That’s enough to have me scream out his name (or someone else’s, which I’ve done more than once) to the high heavens in twenty-seven different languages, and fuck him limp.

  And I love sucking all over them. Hairy, smooth, it makes me no never mind. As long as they’re clean, I’m going to gargle with them. However, with smooth balls, I don’t have to worry about coughing up hair balls or picking hair from between my teeth.

  Make no mistake, I don’t discriminate. I’m an equal opportunist. I don’t care if you’re involved, single, lonely, or confused. But don’t be married! As far as I’m concerned, a married man is off limits. I don’t believe in fucking someone else’s husband ’cause I wouldn’t want it done to me. Some things should be valued and kept sacred. The institution of marriage is one of those rare things I do respect. So doing a man rocking a wedding band is an absolute no-no. However, anyone else is fair game. I’ll fuck him, and suck him straight into a damn coma, then send him on his way with no questions asked. I only expect him to be able to pump the hips, slam the dick, and get it up for more than one round. If his sex game is really on point, he’s almost guaranteed to smash it again.

  “…uh…oh…mmmph…pull your dick out and eat my pussy, baby,” I say in a deep, throaty moan. It is a request that sounds more like a command. Although his dick feels so damn good inside of me, my clit wants, no, needs to feel his warm tongue. I need to bust my nut all over it, then suck my creamy juice off his lips and tongue as he slides his dick back up into me. This is what I want; this is what I need. He eagerly obliges, making his way down between my legs, then kissing the hood of my clit before pulling it back to greet it with his tongue. I let out another moan. “Oh, yes, Garrett. Oh, yes, baby…lick that clit, baby.”

 
Now, I don’t know about you, but for me, there’s something sexy about seeing a man’s lips glistening with my pussy juice that really turns me on. That’s what I’m thinking while Garret is between my legs with his tongue darting in and out of me while placing his mouth over my dripping-wet pussy so he can drink, lick, and slurp the warm, sticky treat that gushes out of me. Each time I cum, the orgasms are more intense, causing my whole body to shake. “Oh, yes…oooh, yes…Fuck me with that tongue, baby…”

  I can’t front, Garrett has me going. I’m not sure if it’s because I haven’t had sex in over a week and I’m extremely horny, or if I miss having his tongue in my pussy. I wrap both legs around his shoulders, pull him in deeper, and smother his face in between my legs, allowing him to continue sucking and licking on my clit while dipping his thick fingers in and out of my hot hole. My creamy pussy pulls at his fingers, greedily gripping them as he presses his tongue against my throbbing, swollen clit. Just before my next wave of orgasms comes, he lifts me up, flips me over, then in one swift motion glides his thick, rock-hard dick inside the back of my pussy and pounds deep, fast, and hard, slapping me on the ass until I am creaming all over his dick again. He thrusts his body up into me and gyrates and jerks, pounding away. Sweat drips onto my back.

  “Aaah, shit…fuck…uh…Damn, this pussy’s good,” he grunts before abruptly pulling his dick out of me. I can still feel the pressure of his dick inside of me. My pussy is pulsing and I wind my hips, craning my neck over my shoulder to see what he is doing, why he has left my pussy vacant and aching to be refilled. He abruptly yanks off the condom and starts jerking his dick. “I’ma bust this nut all on this pretty, fat ass of yours,” he says, slapping his dick across my ass. “Pull open ya ass for me.” I do, and he begins rubbing the length of his cock across my asshole, back and forth, then slapping it several times, causing it to pucker as he beats it with his heavy stick. I moan. “Yeah, baby, look at that pretty asshole. Next time you gonna let me fuck you in that ass, right?”

  I moan again. He takes that to mean yes, and I don’t tell him otherwise. I keep moaning until he backs up and shoots his hot, creamy nut straight in the center of my ass and onto my lower back.

  “Aaaahhh, fuck,” he moans, still jerking his dick and flicking the last droplets of his cum on my ass. Then he takes his dick and starts to smear his nut into my skin and around the center of my hole, coating it. I moan, rubbing my clit.

  “I want some more,” I whine, turning around and taking his still-hard dick in my hands and stroking it. I kiss the head, then flick my tongue across the eye of his dick, hoping to get a taste of his milk.

  “Damn, girl, you know how to keep this dick happy,” he says, as I lift his dick up and pull his balls into my mouth one at a time, slowly sucking them while jacking him off. My mouth waters and wets his heavy sack as he leans in and gently tweaks and rolls my nipples between his fingers, then pinches them firmly.

  I glance over at the digital clock on my nightstand and notice it reads 11:43 p.m. We’ve been fucking for over an hour and I know it is a matter of time before it has to end. Garrett doesn’t have to be at work until eight in the morning, so technically, we could go a few more rounds, but knowing him, he’ll want to get home to get a few hours of sleep. Hell, it’s fine with me since I have to be at work in the morning myself. Interestingly, Garrett is the only man I fuck—oh, and Maurice—whom I allow to shower after a night of hot, sweaty sex; whom I willingly kiss; and whom I don’t keep on a time clock. He can usually come through and get his dick wet any time our schedules coincide, whether it’s day or night. The others…well, they come when I say it’s cool to come through, which is usually after the sun goes down, and before the sun comes up. And that usually works out best for them since most of them have to get home to their girls ’n shit, or to whatever else it is that keeps them occupied. I don’t ask, they don’t tell, and I don’t care.

  I continue stroking his dick, waiting, wishing for another drop of his nectar. There it is, I think, licking my lips in anticipation. I kiss the tip, then lick the clear sweetness that leaks from the slit. I allow my tongue to glide across the thick vein that runs along its shaft. He moans as I slowly roll my tongue around the head before wrapping my soft lips around it and sucking on it, pulling it deep into my warm mouth. Drool drips from the corners of my mouth as I bob my head back and forth. I look up and see that his eyes are now rolling back up into his head as I suck and slurp and gulp down every inch of him.

  “Oh, fuck…oh, shit…Damn, girl,” he grunts, grabbing me by the back of the head with his right hand. He wraps his hand in my hair. I suck him slowly, then pick up the pace and start making popping and smacking noises while moaning and gently pulling at his balls, massaging them, squeezing them, milking them. “Uh, you about to make me cum,” he announces in a deep, groggy whisper. I can feel his dick throbbing as I suck and his balls are starting to draw up, which lets me know he’s on the brink of splattering a hot one. I increase my suction around the head of his dick, then use my hands and grip the base of his dick tightly and start stroking it in long, fast motions. Garrett’s body begins to rock and tremble as he becomes enthralled in the throes of passion caused by my sensual tongue and loving mouth. “Aaah, fuck…I’m about to nut, baby.” I reach up and start pulling on his nipples, which causes him to shudder and moan. “Oh, shit…I’m coming, baby.” His body jerks and within moments, he pulls out of my mouth, backs up, and aims his dick at me, shooting his hot cream all over my chest and neck. He pants and jerks a few more times, milking out the last bit of his nut, before dramatically collapsing over onto the bed beside me. “Whew,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “You wear me out.”

  I cut my eyes at him, grinning. “Which is why you keep coming back for more,” I state, getting up out of the bed. His sticky nut runs down my titties and over my hard nipples. Now, if he were my man, I would have both nipples in my mouth, lapping up all of his sweet man milk. But he’s not, and probably never will be, so his nut goes wasted. If Garrett were one of them really kinky, tri-sexual men I was telling you about, I’d cradle him in my arms and feed him my cum-drenched titties and have him suck his nut off them. I’d nurse him like a newborn baby. Oh, well.

  “Partially,” he says, leaning up on his forearms and looking at me. He tilts his head, studies me.

  “And the other part?” I ask, matching his gaze. I’m not sure if what he is going to tell me is something I really want to hear, or know. But I ask anyway.

  He senses this and simply says, “Let’s leave it at partially, for now.”

  There’s something about the way in which he says for now that makes me uncomfortable. Between you and me, I am relieved. Garrett and I have been fucking off and on for almost three years now, and I’d hate for it to have to end because of some extra shit he’s now trying to bring into it.

  I smile. “Well, I’m glad I can keep you and that fat dick of yours fucked and sucked down to the bone.”

  “That you do, baby,” he replies finally, pulling himself out of the bed. He grabs his dick and shakes it. “You definitely know how to keep me and my man here feeling good.”

  I suck my teeth, rolling my eyes up in my head. “Whatever,” I snap, swinging my hips and bouncing my ass into the bathroom. I turn on the shower, then get in. I stand under the pulsing showerhead with my head back, rolling my neck. I close my eyes and allow the water to beat against my body before taking the shower head in my hand and positioning it between my legs. I brace myself up against the wall, steady my right foot up on the ledge, then spread open my pussy lips and allow the water to beat against my clit. I let out a soft moan as my pussy opens and closes in its attempt to catch beads of water.

  I think about my encounter with Garrett, rub the space that held his dick moments ago, and find myself asking the question: If a man had to use one word to describe a woman’s pussy, what would it be? I toy with the question for a moment. I mean, honestly. Every woman wants to believe she has a tighter, wet
ter, sweeter pussy than any other. She wants to believe her pussy can out-fuck the next chick’s. But at the end of the day, what does the man fucking her really think about what’s between her legs?

  Hmmm…I wonder if any woman has ever given thought to that. I mean, would his one-word description of her pussy be smelly, like rancid meat or sweet, rotting fruit? Would it be cavernous, because it’s huge, dark, and damp? How about deep like an ocean? Would it be addictive like crack? Would it be worn like the heel of an old shoe? Would it be juicy like a ripened peach? Would it be dry like the Sahara desert, or gritty like sandpaper? Maybe tight like a Venus fly trap. Or aged like fermented grapes or blue cheese. Perhaps sweet like cotton candy. What about sour like curdled milk? Or maybe it would it be sticky like molasses. Would it be wet like a gushing waterfall? Would it be hot like an inferno? Maybe rank like it’s covered with sweat and crusty pussy and cum juices. Humph. Or perhaps straight rotten like the back of a garbage truck?

  The numerous descriptions cause me to chuckle to myself. Humph, can you imagine? I think. Then, for some reason, I find myself wondering how many women actually look at their pussies. I mean really look at them. Lie back, spread open their legs, pull open their lips and use a mirror to look up into their treasures. I don’t know about anyone else, but I look at my pussy regularly, at least once a week. Hell, I have a pretty snatch, if I do say so myself. Every man who has ever seen it always tells me how pretty (and tasty) it is. It’s all one color on the outside, a golden brown, and a deep shade of pink in the center. And my lips are puffy and don’t flap over like elephant ears, which are not a good look, in my opinion. Anyway, although I don’t make it a habit to look at another woman’s twat, I have seen a few that weren’t too appetizing or appealing and I have been told by men that some chicks have the ugliest holes imaginable. Humph. Well, I’m glad I don’t have that issue. ’Cause not only does it look good, it tastes good, and feels even better. There you have it!