The Man Handler

most men can’t live without pussy. Not for long. So the clincher would be that every woman would be strapped and loaded, and if a mofo tried to bum rush her for some pussy, he’d be shot on the spot, or at the very least be pistol whipped and castrated. The mere thought is quite entertaining. I think men would literally lose their damn minds if they couldn’t get their dicks wet. If women had the will to shut their legs, seal off the pussy, and let a nigga know who really has the control, he’d act like he had some damn sense. Imagine that.

The thought cracks me the hell up for almost two minutes. But then reality sets in and I suck my teeth, knowing it’ll never happen in this lifetime ’cause there are a lot of women who’ll cut a chick for some dick, who can’t live without the dick. Humph, I think, cutting off the lamp on my nightstand, women better start realizing the power of that wet box between their legs, and learn how to fuck a man into submission.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It’s 9:15 in the morning, and I am sitting bored shitless in a mandatory staff meeting. Shari Flemmings, who works in Human Resources, and Mark Lennon, the executive director of operations, are standing in front of us, talking. Actually, Mark is the one doing all the talking. Shari’s standing there looking like a damn porcelain doll with all that foundation on her face, nodding every so often as he discusses the upcoming strategic planning the organization will be having over the next few months. Today, for some reason, she seems a bit scattered, nervous almost, and I’m trying to figure out why she’s so distracted. I’m sitting in my seat wondering why this chick is even standing up here while he is talking about this process. Although I’ve hardly had much interaction with her, I’ve always thought she was a well-put-together woman, not to mention being a sistah! Girlfriend is always articulate and to the point when she speaks. But today she is different. I can’t put my finger on it as I watch her eyes dance around the room like tennis balls.

Mark, a very handsome, very rich white man, in his late thirties, with sandy brown hair, green eyes, and a lean runner’s body, goes into this long, drawn-out explanation of why the board of directors feels now is the time to do an assessment and evaluation of the organization as a whole.

“Throughout this process,” he says, looking around the room, “we will be taking a look at all of our existing services provided in each department within the company, seeing how we can enhance them and provide more effective ways of meeting our clients’ needs. We will also be taking a look at those departments that are not being utilized to their full potential, seeing how we can strengthen them…”

My God, as good-looking as his ass is, that nasal voice of his is giving me a headache. I look around the huge conference room, watching the faces and actions of everyone assembled there. I spot Miss Hooch over in the corner, staring out the window. Nahdirah is sitting two seats over from me, writing something on her notepad. Definitely not notes. Her ass is probably doodling, I think, shaking my head. On my left is Everett Wells, one of the computer techs who works on the second floor. He sort of reminds me of the actor Sean Blakemore. I keep my face forward and occasionally cut my eye at him, smiling to myself. There’s only one word to describe this six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-something-pound, chiseled, chocolate delight, and that is delicious! Mmmph. Under different circumstances, this man could get it. You best believe if I were the type to fraternize in the workplace, he’d be the first one on my list of people to fuck. Just by the way he walks, the way he sits, the way his slacks hang in the front, tells me he is most likely one of them Mandingo dick mofos, or he has some really extra-large balls. However, since I do not, nor will I ever shit where I eat, I ignore his advances and invitations to dinner, “or whatever.” But that doesn’t mean I haven’t already fucked him in my mind.

The scent of his cologne forces me to inhale deeply. I try to figure out the fragrance. Sean John? Unforgivable? I think, shifting in my seat. I feel his eyes on me, but I ignore the tingling sensation his gaze causes against my flesh. Right at this moment, I wish he wasn’t sitting so close to me. I wish he wasn’t someone who worked in the same building as me. Wish he didn’t take up space in my many fantasies. I know he smells my lust, know he wants to get my attention. I cross my legs, pinch off the desire to have his tongue lost between my thighs, and focus on Mr. Lennon.

“…This is a very exciting time for us as we approach another decade of being one of the most innovative, cutting-edge technological companies in the country. And with your help, I am hoping that we can continue to raise the bar…”

I am watching Mr. Lennon’s mouth move, but I am not hearing words. The only thing I hear are soft moans floating throughout the room. I am not seeing him standing in front of us wearing his signature Brooks Brothers pin-striped suit and crisp, white monogrammed dress shirt, or his Bally wing-tip shoes. He is naked with his soft dick in his thick hand, slowly stroking it. His cock is nowhere near its potential and it is already long and fat. I bite down on my bottom lip, twist in my seat.

Don’t ask me where all this craziness is coming from. But the notion starts to take root and spread like a wild fire. My fleeting fantasy of being fucked by a white man with a big, thick cock starts to come into full view. Uh… hmm…ooh. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing more delicious than a juicy black dick, but…hmmm, a taste of vanilla could also be oh, so sweet.

Yes, I’ve crossed over once. It was two years ago while I was down in Atlantic City. Once again I had gone there to gamble, but ended up in a hotel room with my legs wide open. Anyway, when I tell you this white man was beautiful, I mean he was capital B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L! He had an olive complexion, dark curly hair, big brown eyes, thick lashes to die for, and a chiseled, fresh-from-the-gym body. Truth be told, I had never wanted to do a white man until him.

Anyway, I was at the Pier Shops in Caesar’s doing what I do best, shopping, when I spotted him in the Bottega Veneta store. He smiled. I smiled. He said hello. I said hello, then continued about my business. Dude kept staring at me and smiling. So you know me. I asked him if he knew me from somewhere. Of course he didn’t, but I asked anyway. We got to talking, then one thing led to another and he finally asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to one of the restaurants for a drink and grab a bite to eat. I was like, sure.

Well, long story short, after a few drinks, he invited me up to his room. I only agreed after he said he wasn’t married and answered yes to every one of my damn questions. So I got to his room and we started kissing and grinding. Before I knew it, my pussy started dripping, and Mr. Sexy Vanilla Man was doing a strip tease for me. This mofo had a damn eight-pack and a bigass bulge in his white Calvin Klein underwear that made my pussy tremble. A bitch was ready to pounce down on that juicy stick.

Well, the clincher was, he only wanted me to get my panties real wet with my pussy juice, then take them off so he could sniff and suck them while I watched him jerk off. I thought it was a bit bizarre, but hey…I aim to please. So I got my snatch real wet and juicy for him, then took my panties off and wiped my pussy with them. I handed them to him, then sat back on the bed and watched him lick, sniff and suck the juice from my panties while he stroked his thick white dick (eight and a half inches, I might add).

Oh, I wanted him inside me so damn bad, I started shaking. But his only focus was on sucking my pussy- stained panties. So I played in my pussy, talked real nasty to him, then came all over my fingers when he wrapped my panties around his dick, jerked himself off, then nutted all in the crotch of my panties. Well, that little experience did nothing for my cock-hungry pussy. I needed the thrust of a dick inside me. I am so glad I had packed my thick six-inch friend in my bag because it was exactly what I needed to take the edge off. I fucked myself while he watched me, as he continued pulling and tugging at his semi-hard dick. Surprisingly, his dick got hard again, and before I knew it, we were both moaning and cumming at the same time.

I laid back, kept my legs spread apart with my dildo still stuck inside of me and watched him as he wiped his nut in my panties again, sniffed them, then asked me if he could keep them. Hell, why not. It wasn’t like I planned on putting them back on anyway. And, then, for the grand finale, Mr. Panty Eater walked over to me, pulled the dildo out of my sopping wet pussy, and sucked the juices off it. Well, I’ll be damn! I was floored, to say the least. So, there you have it. My first live experience with a white man!

And now, as I sit here, I am entertaining lusty thoughts of fucking another one. Mr. Lennon’s freshly shaven, salon-tanned face is attached to my daydream. In my mind, I’m getting off on the contrast of my beautiful brown flesh against his stark whiteness as he plays with my titties, kissing and sucking and licking all over my nipples as though they’re dipped in the world’s finest chocolate. His lips begin to plant wet kisses down my stomach, dipping