The Man Handler Page 6

  The more I talk the harder and thicker his dick gets, and the wetter my pussy gets. I’m working him up, but I am also working myself up as I imagine him pressing the inside of his muscular thighs on either side of my head, and slow-fucking my face, spreading open my throat, stretching my neck, sliding his dick in and out and it getting all slick from my spit. I pinch my clit and let out a moan.

  “Aaah, shit,” he moans. “Look how hard you got this dick. Stop playing and come over here and suck this shit.”

  “Oh, you ready to have this throat wrapped around your dick, huh?” I ask as I climb up on the bed, then crawl between his legs. I take his dick in my hands, squeeze it at the base, kiss the tip, slide my lips back and forth, then up and down along the shaft, then slap the center of my wet lips with it. I allow it to make smacking sounds against my lips for several minutes until my mouth overflows with saliva, and then…I slowly slide his dick into my mouth.

  He moans.

  Now I don’t know about you, but I love to hear a man moan. And I love it when he talks dirty to me, pulls my hair, grabs me by the back of the head and face fucks, skull fucks, or whatever else you want to call it when I’m sucking his dick. Oooh, baby. You want to see how fast my panties get soaked, do all the above and it’s on.

  “You like that?” I ask, slipping his dick out of my mouth, then sliding it back in.

  He moans again. “Yeah, baby. I love them lips on this dick. Ah, shit.”

  I decide it’s time to shift my position so that I can really get this neck stretched. I pull up off his dick.

  “Yo, that’s good. Why you stop?” he asks, sounding all desperate and confused and whatnot.

  “I’m changing positions so I can really get at your cock,” I say, turning around so that I am lying across the bed. “Stand up over me,” I tell him, resting my neck on the edge of the bed so that my head is hanging upside down. Okay, now pay attention. This is where it starts to get fun. Tyrese jumps out of bed with his stiff dick swaying side to side like a sword preparing for battle. He hovers over me with his dick twitching. It bounces in anticipation of what’s to come. I grab his dick, open my mouth, extend the tip of my tongue past my bottom lip (this helps flatten the tongue), then guide the head in, forcing the back of my throat open as if I’m yawning (this creates a larger opening for the dick).

  “Oh, shit,” he moans, trying to push more of his dick in. But I am the one in control, and he knows this. I’ve learned that an overzealous man will try to ram his cock down in your wind-pipe if you let him. And I’m not the one, which is why my hand stays on it to guide it at my pace. Not his. I tighten my grip on his dick, then take a deep breath and slowly slide the length of his cock all the way into my mouth, along my tongue. I remember the first few times I tried this, I felt the urge to gag, but I would stop, leave the dick where it was for a few minutes, then pull it out. I kept repeating that until I finally mastered taking it all and was able to swallow the whole dick as I was doing now. Now you’ll have to excuse me; it’s going to be a bit complicated trying to talk with a mouth full of dick so sit and watch. Gurgling sounds come from the back of my throat. He has his groin pressed up against my nose, grinding himself into my mouth. “Ah, fuck…damn, you can suck some dick.”

  I reach out and grab Tyrese’s ass, pulling him deeper into my throat. I remember to breathe through my nose so that I don’t choke to death. Tyrese is skull-fucking me lovely, and I am wetting his cock with my wet throat and the spit that dribbles out of the sides of my mouth. He reaches over me and slides his hand back and forth over my pussy, then presses on my clit and strokes it. I thrust my hips up, and a moan escapes me as he slides two fingers into me and finger-pops my juicy fruit.

  “Oh, fuck,” he grunts. “Aah, shit…I’m getting ready to cum…” He’s riding my face like his cock is on fire and he’s trying to get my throat to put out the flames. “Oh, shit…uhh…fuck…”

  Now, listen…I’m not promoting it (safe sex is first), but it’s probably a better idea to deep throat a man raw, or make sure the rubber is extremely lubricated to avoid getting a condom lodged in your throat. That is not a good look, okay? However, if you do him raw, I can almost assure you he is going to want to bust his baby batter down in your throat. Believe that. But with so much shit out here, I encourage not giving it raw to just anyone. They really have some wonderful flavored condoms that make it really cute to stay on your knees gulping down a dick.

  But for the cum lover in you who might be afraid of the taste or throwing up, lean your head all the way back as far as you can, get the head of his dick as far down your throat as you can, and when he pumps that thick, hot cream down in your throat it’ll slide down nice and easy. It’ll be finger-licking good. Trust me. It turns a man on when you guzzle it all down. Yep, right down to the last damn drop. From my lips to his dick…enjoy the journey!

  CHAPTER SIX

  It’s only ten o’clock in the morning, and I’m already sitting here at my desk, disgusted. It’s bad enough I don’t even feel like being here today. It started at eight-thirty when I was standing in line at Commerce—oops, I mean, TD—Bank, trying to make a deposit. The line was long as hell and they only had two tellers working. Something had told me to go through the drive-thru but against my better judgment, I hadn’t. So I’m patiently waiting for the line to move along when this chick in back of me starts talking to two other chicks, telling them how her man had gotten a suite at the Borgata in Atlantic City and how he had rocked her socks off with his love making. And how she felt he was “the one.” She was giving her audience an earful of juicy tidbits. I glanced back a few times. By the way they were staring at her, I could tell they were clinging to her every word, practically salivating. I bet these new Gucci heels that one of them hoes wished she were in her place. I had to shake my damn head. Some women really don’t know when not to run their mouths when it comes to their men and their relationships. Only a careless bitch is going to brag about what her man does for her financially, sexually, or otherwise. I’m telling you, by the time I walked up out of that bank, not only did I know that chick’s whole life, I had a banging-ass headache.

  Humph, so that was the start of my day, along with popping two Excedrin. Then I come up in here and have to be surrounded by a bunch of nosey-assed, phony women. Some days I can deal with it, but not today. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m tired from being up fucking most of the night, then waking up and masturbating myself back to sleep; or if it’s that I’m in need of a change, or maybe a damn vacation. Whatever it is, I’m beat today.

  Between you and me, I can’t stand working around a bunch of bitches. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t keep using that word to address women, but…dammit, say what you want, that’s exactly what the hell some of these woman I work with are. I mean, downright petty and jealous. Someone is always talking about somebody else instead of focusing on themselves. And if they’re not gossiping about, or lying on, somebody, they’re around here trying to figure out who’s fucking whose man. I mean, really. Give me a damn break. It isn’t that serious.

  Then you have the ones who come up in here and blab all of their business, letting everyone in earshot know what they did, who they did it with, and where they did it. Humph. Or they’re sharing their sob stories about their men, disclosing all their family secrets, or bragging about what they have. Then they got the nerve to get pissed when they find out someone is talking about them. I’m like, “Bitch, are you serious? If you learned to keep your damn mouth shut, maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about someone putting your shit on blast.”

  I tell you, it’s sickening. This is exactly why I don’t fuck with any of these hoes in this building. They all know not to come to me with none of that shit ’cause I don’t want to hear nothing that comes out of any of these mountain coons’ mouths. You’d think working in a so-called professional environment would thwart the pettiness and cattiness. Not! Some of these bitches are worse than someone with less education, or experience. Always b
ackstabbing, and undermining someone who they think is a threat. And the gossip mill is constantly churning. Education definitely has nothing to do with being an ignorant-ass, trouble making bitch.

  I can’t be so bothered. I come to work, do my job, and keep it moving. And it kills ’em, ’cause they don’t know shit about me. Other than that, I own my own home, drive a Mercedes CL550, and wear designer shit to work every day of the week. They don’t know jack, and that’s exactly how I’m going to keep it. No, I don’t want to go out for drinks after work. No, I don’t want to do lunch with your fake ass. No, I don’t want to know shit about your personal life because I’m not telling you shit about mine. No, your nosey-ass can’t stop by my home to see how I’m living. So beat it!

  Of course word around the building is that I think I’m better than everybody else. Hmmm, what’s the word they use? Oh, yeah…stuck-up! Well, that works for me. ’Cause I love having a stiff dick “stuck up” in me. So say what you want. I’ve never cared about what someone else thought about me any damn way. Other than a hello, and maybe an occasional lunch gathering, I stay as far the hell away as I can from all of ’em. Well, okay, with the exception of Nahdirah, whom I marginally consider a friend—and I’m using the term friend loosely—I have very little patience or tolerance for any of ’em. Nahdirah’s ass is starting to wear my nerves thin as well.

  I’m sorry, but I will never be able to wrap my mind around the thought of people who run their mouths about everything. What’s done behind closed doors should stay behind closed doors. I’m a firm believer that what you do in your personal life is your business. If you wish to share, then do. But don’t get upset when these same people you confide in turn around and make you the brunt of their jokes, or the topic of their discussions. You can call me what you want, it’s fine with me. I’m here to work, not be friends or swap war stories. I keep trying to tell Nahdirah’s dumb ass to stop running her damn mouth so much around here. I told her twice already that these hating-ass hoes are jealous and conniving, and to feed them with a long-handled spoon. But what does she do? She sits up in the damn break room, first thing this morning, and gives them the 4-1-1 on what she and her man, Jake, did over the weekend. I came in on the tail end of her conversation when she spotted me walking through the door and started waving for me to come over.

  I silently rolled my eyes when I saw whom she was sitting with at the table. Cheryl, the perfect example of a bitch. Cheryl is every bit of fifty-five and the chick walks around acting like she’s still in high school, wearing a head full of front-laced weave, with a gym body wrapped in teenie-tiny skirts and little-assed blouses, her double D titties all bunched together in ’em like that shit is sexy, and click-clacking her damn gum all over the place. Fucking ghetto! Granted, she does have a beautiful face on which she packs a bunch of makeup. And she also has a nice shape for a woman her age. Actually, she puts some chicks half her age to shame, which is why I can understand why she likes to flounce around here acting like she’s the Queen of Seduction or some shit.

  Don’t get me wrong, I am all for a woman feeling good about herself and being comfortable in the skin that she’s in. And I’m all for a woman feeling and dressing sexy, but there’s a time and a place for everything. Contrary to popular belief, there is nothing—and I do mean nothing—sexy about a bitch coming to an office environment in hooker pumps and spandex pants so tight that the whole building can see your pussy lips, or a skirt so short you can see your bald snatch when you sit down. This trick is old enough to be my mother. Hell, she’s a grandmother of three. And this is how she represents herself—like a two-dollar trollop. Say what you want. It’s tacky and downright disgusting, if you ask me. And that’s exactly how this tactless, classless chick comes to work every day!

  So anyway, when I finally do make my way over to the table after purchasing a cup of green tea and a cinnamon bagel, I act like the office hooch is invisible, which I know pisses her off since she loves being the center of attention. The other two chicks sitting there with them must have been temps or something ’cause I’d never seen them before. I ignored them as well. I’m not the phony type. If I don’t like you, or dig your energy, I’m not fucking with you. And that’s what it is. And all three of them bitches reeked of negativity.

  “What’s up, Nahdirah?” I asked, glancing at my watch. I had only been in the building twenty minutes and still needed to log on to my computer.

  “Not a damn thing, girl,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from out of her face, then sweeping it behind her ear. “What’s been up with you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Oh, Nahdirah is the only person you see sitting over here?” the hooch asked with ’tude.

  “She’s the only one I choose to speak to,” I flatly stated, shifting my focus back to Nahdirah.

  “Whatever,” she huffed, giving me a flick of her wrist.

  I ignored her, keeping my eyes locked on Nahdirah. “I’ve been keeping it real low key,” I said to her while taking a look around the break room to see who was in there. I rolled my eyes when I spotted Marcella, another two-faced bitch, sitting over in the corner with this dude Clinton from downstairs in the finance department. Apparently, they’d become an item of sorts over the last few months. They were huddled up, whispering and giggling like they were conspiring about something. Truth be told, they probably were. Hmm, what’s he make…man number four in six months? I think, shifting my attention back to Nahdirah. “You know I don’t play the front too much. What’s been up with you?”

  “Nothing much,” she replied. “Same ole, same ole. I was sitting here telling Cheryl how Jake took me into the city over the weekend to see The Color Purple. Girrrl, if you haven’t seen it, you must. Anyway, I thought we were only going in for the day, but Jake surprised me by getting a room at the Marriott. He had a bottle of champagne and a fruit basket, along with roses, there waiting for me. Chile, I was so damn shocked ’cause you know he never takes the initiative to do anything romantic.” I stood there, trying hard not to suck my teeth or roll my eyes. I glanced over at Miss Hooch and saw her soaking in everything.

  “I was telling Cheryl that Jake even ate my kitty-cat, something he hardly ever does. He ate me so good I almost passed out.” She laughed. “Oh my God, he did things to me this weekend that I would have never expected. I swear that man is a freak.”

  “Girl, I know that’s right,” the hooch said, slapping her five. “So, ole boy turned you out, huh? Humph, I know he did you lovely.”

  Nahdirah nodded, then said, “Mmm-hmm. He rocked my box all weekend long. It had been so long since he handled me like that, I was starting to think maybe he was fucking someone else. But this weekend, he cleared all that up with one deep stroke of his big dick.” She shook in her seat, like she had the shivers. “Ooh, he did me so good…”

  Okay, that was it for me. I abruptly excused myself. I didn’t want to hear or know anything else. I carried my cup of tea and bagel right on up out of there, taking the elevator up to my floor, then going into my office, and shutting the door behind me.

  Ugh! Learn to keep your motherfucking mouth shut! Why the hell would a woman sit around and share the most intimate details of her relationship with a bunch of other women? You best believe there is gonna always be at least one dick-thirsty chick in the group who is gonna be absorbing every little morsel of information, soaking it all in like a sponge. She’ll disguise her scheming-ass ways with fake concern, trying to be the friend you can always lean on. And the first chance she gets to slither her ass into your man’s space, she’s gonna try her best to fuck him. Or at the very least, suck his dick down to the gristle.

  I call this type of bitch the dick-thirsty chick, ’cause she’s the type of drooling-ass broad who’s going to sweat a dude to no end, practically throwing herself at his feet, begging for the dick. First it’ll be real subtle. Every time she’s around him, she’ll start complimenting him about his looks or the way his cologne smells. She’ll comment about
how lucky his wife is, and how she wishes she had a man like him. She might even start wearing tighter, more provocative clothing, or a little extra makeup to get his attention. Most men will eat up all this attention. Some will let her attempts to woo him go over his head. Others will flat out check her ass, and let his woman know (not many, though). But some, yes, definitely will give in to her relentless ass.

  Trust and believe, if he doesn’t bite soon, if he keeps brushing off her advances or doesn’t recognize her ploy to get into his wallet and his boxers, this snake bitch will start to get frustrated. Or she’ll become more obsessed, more desperate. Being ignored only adds fuel to her fire. She’ll become more direct. She may be bold enough to offer him some pussy. Ssssh, nobody has to know. She’ll promise to suck the shit out of his ass just to get his nut. This greasy bitch will try to get at a man right in front of his woman with no regard for his relationship. She’s a brazen freak with no damn boundaries. She’s also a borderline whore, if you ask me. And of course, this is the world according to a ho. Anyway, she sees him as a challenge. She craves him. And will stop at nothing until she gets him. I’d like to get my hands on an intercom, speaker, bullhorn, or whatever, and say to all these simple-ass women who trust every bitch who’s in their social circle: “Dear, there’s no other way to say it. Stop broadcasting your damn business. There’s a conniving, home-wrecking bitch among you. She’s envious. She’s jealous. And she’s gonna fuck your man. So pay attention, and beware!”

  Okay, if you haven’t figured it out—yes, I have a problem with scheming-ass women (well, bitches!) trying to get at someone else’s man, but I have a bigger problem with the chick who constantly runs her damn mouth, giving these tramps all the ammunition they need. I mean, really…what the fuck! Oh, please. I know, I know. I’ve heard it all before. We shouldn’t blame the other woman because it’s the man. Well I think sometimes that’s a bunch of bullshit. Especially when you think the people in your personal space are people you can (or should be able to) trust. That bitch is as much at fault as he is. I mean, damn, I may be a ho, but I’m not (nor will I ever be) a trifling one. I would never stoop to fucking someone whom I say is my friend’s, or family’s, man. A chick I don’t know, or don’t want to know, yes, I will borrow her man’s dick and return him to her happily fucked. But not someone I know. I’m sorry. There has to be some dick that’s off limits. There needs to be more honor among hoes, don’t you think?