The Man Handler

by Cairo

  “There are several swingers groups in Jersey and in the New York area we can check out, and a club in Charlotte, North Carolina I’d like to take you to.”

  I blink, bringing my attention back to Garrett. I stare at him in disbelief. It is all sounding too good to be true. Fucking him and Wade, together, immediately pops into my mind. I feel myself starting to salivate, and hyperventilate all at once. And this is the first time in weeks my pussy starts to twitch and tingle and marinate in its juices.

  “But what if I wanted you to just sit back and jerk off, watching the show?”

  “Then I’d be cool with that as well. I’m open to a lot of things, when it comes to you. All I’m asking you to do is step outside of your box for a while, and let’s explore sex together. We can take it slow.”

  “Garrett, listen—” the doorbell rings. “I can’t have this discussion right now.” I open the door, and I’m relieved that it’s my driver. I point to my bags, then tell him I will be out shortly as he carries them out to the car. Garrett gets up from his seat. He watches me as I put on my coat. His eyes lock on mine, then travel to my stomach. He’s slowly undressing me. I quickly button my coat. He walks up into my space.

  “No pressures. No strings. Just straight fucking, however, wherever, whenever you want this dick.” I open my mouth to speak. Prepare to tell him that I can’t make him any promises, but he places his finger to my lips. “Sshh, don’t answer now.”

  “Garrett—”

  He presses his lips against mine, shutting me up. When he pulls back, I am stunned. “You can’t stop me from loving you,” he states. “But, you can stop me from seeing you. However, I don’t think that’s something you really want. I know you feel what I feel. But you need to figure that out. Go out, fuck who you want. Do you, baby. But know that when you’re ready, there’s a good man willing and ready to love you.”

  I pull in my bottom lip, taking a deep breath. “I gotta go,” I say. “But we really need to talk about some things when I return.”

  He kisses me again. “I’ll be here waiting.”

  Tell him. He deserves to know.

  “Um, Garrett, I—I—”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  Tell him.

  “Um, enjoy your holidays.”

  He smiles. “You enjoy yours as well. Be safe over there.”

  “Thanks, I will.” I look around the house one last time to make sure I have turned everything off, then set the alarm.

  Garrett walks out with me. “I’ll be thinking about you.”

  I offer him a smile as he opens the limo door. He closes it once I am in, then stands in my driveway and watches as we drive away before getting into his car. I take another deep breath, then slowly exhale. I hope I haven’t made a mistake, I think, laying my head back, rubbing my stomach.

  Ho, you did what was in your heart. It was what you had to do.

  Humph, I guess. As far as I’m concerned, all the ho had to do was make sure the nigga had a condom on. Now look at your ass. So much for bragging about never being pregnant.

  Well, you’ve had a good run. Maybe this is a sign for you to stop chasing Mr. Goodbars, and think about giving Garrett a chance. Hell, he’s fine, the dick’s good, and he fucks like a stallion. And now he’s talking about swinging ’n shit. Ho, that gives you an open invitation to feast on an assortment of dicks, and still have a man of your own. It can’t get any better than that. And if shit works out between the two of you, cool. If it doesn’t, then you can always take your ass back out on the ho-stroll.

  I shake my head, staring out of the window, lost in thought all the way to the airport.

  “We are now ready to board Lufthansa flight 403 from Newark to Frankfurt,” the attendant says over the intercom. “Passengers flying business and first class can now board.” I gather my things, and move towards the line. When I finally get to my seat, I buckle up, then lean my head back and sigh, closing my eyes.

  When the flight reaches flying altitude, I peer out into the clouds. Allow myself to get lost in the peacefulness of their fluffy whiteness. The sound of a suction machine cuts into the quietness, and instinctively, I clutch my stomach. I remember hearing somewhere that it’s better to regret having done something, than to regret not having done it at all, or something like that. I think back on that afternoon in Dr. Krishna’s office, pulling in my bottom lip. I fight back tears. Then I do something I haven’t done in years, I find myself wondering about my life beyond a stiff dick. I decide to use this getaway to reflect, consider making some changes in my life. That’s not to say I’m dismissing the idea of fucking some exotic-looking, authentic African dick while I’m over in Egypt.

  Ho, the only thing you’re gonna end up with is some exotic shit your ass can’t get rid of, so if I were you I’d think about keeping your legs shut. Get your mind right, and put fucking to the side for a minute. You have more pressing shit to tend to.

  I sigh, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Excuse me, did you say something?” a very handsome, very sexy, distinguished-looking Italian man asks, looking over at me.

  “Oh, no,” I say, meeting his gaze. Damn this man is sexy. “I was thinking out loud.”

  He smiles, knowingly, then goes back to his Sudoku puzzle.

  Garrett’s voice plays in my head. You can’t stop me from loving you…Have you ever thought that maybe you might have an addiction? But know that when you’re ready, there’s a good man willing and ready to love you.

  Damn you, Garrett! I shift in my seat, then out of nowhere, I get this crazy idea, wondering what a woman would say to her pussy if she had to write it a letter. The thought makes me laugh. I reach for my bag underneath the seat in front of me. I pull out a notepad and pen, then write:

  Dear Pussy,

  Some may say that over the years I have misused you, and even abused you. That I have taken you for granted, that I have been disrespectful to you. But the truth is I love you, dear pussy. I love all things you represent: womanhood, femininity, strength, the valley that brings life into the world. I love the way you feel, the way you purr when you are being stroked just right, the way you roar in delight when you’re being fucked. I love the sweet, musky scent you emit when you become overly excited from gripping and slurping in a thick dick. I love the way your walls shiver, the way your lips swell, the way your clit tingles when you are on the brink of an orgasm. I love the way your juices slosh and splash along the sides of a dick as it’s being thrust in and out of you, deeply and purposefully. The way you greedily milk the dick, causing a man to scream out in ecstasy. Oh, yes, my beautiful pussy, there’s nothing more magnificent than you. You have the power to make a man’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, make his toes curl, have him forget his name. It is you who can bring a man to his knees, have him losing his mind over you. It is you they beg for, and crave for.

  Some may say I hate you for the number of men I have allowed to enjoy you, even when they were not deserving of your goodness. But you see, my precious pussy, I heard your whispers in the still of the night, felt your aching, for a beautiful black dick. I listened to your sweet pleas for pleasure. And I took heed, not caring if he was worthy of you or not. His worth wasn’t, and isn’t, important to me. What hangs between his legs is. And his ability to feed your hunger, to quench your thirst. For a good dick and a good fucking is all I care about. And with each man I have invited inside of you, to be engulfed by your warmth and wetness, I have relished your moans of satisfaction.

  Why would I forsake you? You have been good to me. You, my precious pussy, are the keeper of joy and pleasure and pain; the receiver of a man’s spirit. And when you open your floodgates, all things good and bad flow from the center of you in abundance, allowing you to cleanse.

  Carelessly, I have allowed one man to plant his spirit in you, and now his seed has taken root, and will bring forth a child, my child. One I am ambivalent about having. But I couldn’t go through with that abortion. I just couldn’t
. So, I don’t know what this will mean for me, or for you. I can’t promise you that I won’t continue to fuck while I am pregnant, but I will promise, no, no…I’ll try, not to fuck with wild abandon for a while. I can’t make any guarantees. ’Cause I love to fuck. And I love how fucking makes you feel. You are very special to me. I appreciate you. I adore you. We are connected. I am my pussy. And my pussy is me.

  Love always,

  Bianca

  I reread it, then chuckled to myself, shaking my head. What a hot damn mess, I think, neatly folding it then slipping it inside my purse. I’m not only a dick-loving ho, but now I’m a pregnant one. Isn’t that some shit?

  I purse my lips, thinking about this pregnancy. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Everything happens for a reason. Be thankful that out of all the dicks you’ve fucked you didn’t end up with something deadly. Be thankful it was Garrett who bust up in you raw, and got you pregnant. He’ll be a good father.

  I take a deep breath, deciding to tell Garrett that I am carrying his child the minute I return from my trip; that I am open to exploring the swingers’ scene with him; that I want to have a threesome with him and Wade. I will tell him that I will give him a chance, but the minute he starts smothering me, or stressing me, or getting on my damn nerves, all bets are off.

  I glance over at the handsome passenger sitting next to me and catch him eyeing me. He is no longer working on his puzzle. Instead, he is sipping on a glass of champagne. By the look in his eyes, he’s had more than one glass. I take in his clean-shaven face. Admire his tanned skin, dark eyes and chiseled features. I don’t see any ring on his thick finger.

  “Are you married?” I decide to ask.

  “Divorced,” he answers. “And you?”

  I glance down in his crotch. “Extremely horny,” I say in a whisper, slowly licking my lips.

  He gives me a mischievous smirk, taking a long gulp from his flute.

  “You know, I was staring at you earlier. You are a very beautiful woman.”

  “Thank you.” I lean into his ear again and whisper. “Have you ever slipped your dick into a black woman?”

  “I love all women, Beautiful,” he says. “I don’t discriminate. Will you be staying in Frankfurt?”

  “No, I’m catching a connecting flight to Cairo,” I share.

  “That’s too bad. I would have loved to continue this discussion, and perhaps further explore each other’s passions, in a more private setting.”

  I look around the spacious cabin. There is only a sprinkle of people flying first class. “Well, it’ll be dark soon. And we still have several hours before we land.” I pause, giving him time to absorb what I am offering. I reach for my purse and discreetly pull out a box of condoms. He nods, knowingly. “Perhaps,” I continue, lightly touching his knee, “I can entice you to some slow, wet head, then a little dose of sweet pussy.”

  He lifts his flute, grinning. “Perhaps you can.” He squeezes his legs shut, allowing me to see the meaty bulge that has formed in his lap. I fight the urge to touch it, to stroke it against the fabric of his slacks.

  “In another hour, I will slip into the bathroom. Wait five minutes, to make sure no one is paying attention, then come in behind me.”

  He finishes his drink, licking his lips. This time he leans over towards me and whispers in my ear, “And I’m going to fuck that sweet black pussy like no other man has.”

  I lean my head back, and smile. The thought of giving a stranger some of this juicy pregnant pussy excites me and is making my panties wet. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Why should I pass up this opportunity to get fucked on a plane? Oh, alright, if it’d make some of you judgmental hoes feel better, how ’bout I let him fuck me in the ass, depending on how fat his dick is, instead of giving him some pussy? Would that make you feel better? Geesh. Then again, I don’t give a hot shit what the hell any of you think. I’m a grown ass woman! My slick cunt muscles constrict. Oh, yes, I think, shifting in my seat. I’m gonna suck and fuck the shit out of this fine-ass man. Hell, I’m knocked up, not disabled. Besides, I’m the Man Handler, baby. And I love to fuck!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cairo resides in New Jersey, where he is finishing up his next literary creation, Daddy Long Stroke. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name. You can visit the author at www.myspace.com/Cairo2u, www.blackplanet.com/Cairo2u, or email the author at cairo2u@verizon.net.

  IF YOU LIKED “THE MAN HANDLER,” YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE “DADDY LONG STROKE.” ENJOY A LITTLE TASTE...

  DADDY LONG STROKE

  COMING SOON FROM STREBOR BOOKS

  ONE

  Damn, I love eatin’ pussy. ’Specially when a broad got that sweet ’n tangy, saucy-type pussy that sticks on the tip of my tongue. Or that juicy, gushy-type pussy that squirts into my mouth, then drips down my chin as I slurp it all up. Man, listen…there’s nuthin’ like havin’ a chick squattin’ up over my face, sittin’ her pussy down on this long tongue, or havin’ her on her back wit’ her legs up over my shoulders and my face buried deep between them smooth thighs while I’m tongue-drillin’ her, or havin’ her bent over a chair wit’ her ass spread open and my tongue deep-strokin’ her from her asshole to the back of her slit—while I’m beatin’ my dick, or got her throatin’ it.

  Mmmph, mmmph, mmph…I love the way it tastes, and smells—well, provided the ho isn’t a walkin’ fish market, smellin’ like sewage, or leakin’ a buncha shit that looks like snot or cottage cheese, feel me? A smelly bitch, forget it…no tongue, no dick, nada—it’s a muthafuckin’ wrap! But a chick who keeps that box right…mmmph, man, listen…finger lickin’ good! There’s nuthin’ more intoxicatin’ than the savorin’ scent of a clean, excited pussy oozin’ wit’ hot, sticky juices. Gotdaaaaamn, talkin’ ’bout gobblin’ up a pussy got my dick bricked like a muhfucka, word up. And, on some real shit, I love eatin’ it almost as much as I love fuckin’ it.

  I also like to kiss on the pussy. From soft, gentle kisses to deep, tongue-probin’ French-kissin’, I love havin’ my tongue and lips all up on it, and in it. Sometimes, I lay my tongue flat up against it, then flap it up and down, draggin’ it along the front and back of her slit. I use my mouth and tongue to stimulate all the sensitive areas of a bitch’s pussy and clit, circlin’ my tongue all over and ’round it. I listen to what makes a broad moan, and know when to change it up to give her that ultimate tongue experience.

  Fuck what ya heard. Tongue-fuckin’ is sumthin’ a muhfucka should take pride in when doin’ it. Just like I expect a broad to handle this dick like she loves it, I expect the same shit from myself when it comes to eatin’ her pussy. I make love to that shit wit’ my mouth, lips, and tongue, eatin’ it like there’s a chocolate-covered cherry stuck dead in the center of her pussy. And the only way to get to that sweet muhfucka is by mountin’ ya wet mouth ’round it, then plungin’ ya tongue deep in it, lickin’, lappin’ stickin’, and flickin’ that hole ’til she starts buckin’ them hips up. See. A nigga like me is a greedy pussy eater, real talk. I ain’t tryna stop ’til a bitch’s walls start to shake, her asshole starts to ache, and she’s chantin’ to a higher power. That’s when I slowly slip these big-ass fingers in her, swirlin’ ’em ’round the inside of her cunt, pressin’ up on that G-spot while I’m suckin’ on her clit. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ma make sure she gets hers. And when her breath quickens, her body quivers, and her moans escalate, I start wildin’ out on the pussy—suckin’ and lickin’ her clit like a frantic, crazed-ass muhfucka ’til she nuts all over my tongue, hard. Then I ease up over top of her, slip my tongue in her mouth so she can taste her creamy juice on it, while I’m slidin’ this dick up in her. And by the time I’m done slayin’ her wit’ this wood, nine-times-outta ten, the bitch done forgot her name and address, done tossed me the keys to her whip, or done begged me to move in.

  So, to my nigga’s who eat pussy: keep ya tongues wet, playas. And to those lame cats who act like they scared to taste the pussy, or who can’t e
at no pussy: You’se some wack-ass muhfuckas, word up! Get ya minds right, my niggas, and step ya tongue game up ’fore another muhfucka takes ya spot, real talk.

  Nah, hol’ up! I ain’t sayin’ e’ery ho deserves to have her pussy eaten ’cause some of these broads out here are straight nasty. That’s why a muhfucka gotta use some discretion. But for the ones who keep that pussy lookin’ right and feelin’ right, a muhfucka gotta learn to let it do what it do, feel me? ’Cause trust me. I’ve had plenty of bitches drop major paper, or lace a muhfucka wit’ some wears, after I done served ’em a night of tongue lickin’, followed up wit’ a pussy beatdown wit’ this long-ass dick.

  Like this trick I got holed up in my room right now. Shakeeta’s her name, a brown-skinned cutie from Irvington—wit’ a lil’ waist and one hundred and forty pounds of ass ’n titties. And, of course, she’s a ho I met offa Myspace. We been fuckin’ off and on for ’bout two months now, and she’s already sucked down my dick and swallowed my nut ’bout eight times. And I’ve fucked her ’bout three. Now, she’s actin’ like she’s in love wit’ a muhfucka. But tonight’s the first time I’m givin’ her this tongue treatment. And the only reason she’s gettin’ it now is ’cause she laced a muhfucka wit’ four pairs of 7 For All Mankind jeans and two pair of Gucci loafers for my birthday. Well, it ain’t my actual born day, but she doesn’t know that shit. Yo, relax. Sit tight. I’ll explain later.