me.
In addition, a man must have all of his teeth (that does not mean having a bunch of brown, yellow, or rotted ones either, or a row of gold or platinum fronts). He must wash his ass daily (there’s nothing worse than sucking on a man’s dick, then pulling up his balls and getting a whiff of ass funk. Ugh!). He also must be drug and disease free (that means no crack, no coke, no 420/weed/trees/collard greens, no dope/smack, no poppers, no damn pills, and
I know, I know. Looks aren’t everything. They can’t get you an education, can’t pay the bills, and definitely don’t guarantee intellectual conversation, but dammit, if I want to see something out of Jurassic Park, then I’ll go to the zoo! You can save that “Wild Kingdom” shit for those hard-pressed, ashy chicks with the black between their flabby legs, and titties flopping and sagging down over their nasty pussies. Those types of chicks are the kind to be happy someone is willing to fuck ’em. So they’ll be more than willing to spread their legs open and fuck a beast. But I’m not the one.
Oh, no, I’m not angry with men. Nor do I hate them. On the contrary, I have nothing but love for them. In my opinion, there’s nothing sexier than a black man’s swagger. There’s something about his confidence, his aloofness, his unpredictability, his mysterious demeanor that makes my pussy drip with excitement, and keeps me wanting more. Give me a man with stamina, strength, a beautiful black dick, probing lips, magical hands, and a killer tongue and I’m in heaven. But loving him is not always an easy task. It requires too much damn work and is definitely not an option for me. They either have too much ego, too many women, or too little respect for relationships. And you never know what you’re gonna get yourself into when dealing with his ass. Some are too bruised, broken, and beat down by life and fucked-up relationships. Others don’t know what the hell they want, and have no investment in a committed relationship. So, thanks, but no thanks! I think I’ll wax his dick, and keep him fucked to the bone with no strings, no stress, and no damn mess.
Alrighty then. Now that we’ve gotten that all out the way, come closer. Let me whisper a little something in your ear. You see, I’ve come to understand that pleasing a man requires patience and a desire to learn everything that turns him on. Ask him what he likes. And I can’t stress it enough—be open-minded. Explore his body with your hands, your lips, your mouth, your tongue. Devour every inch of him. Trust me. All men love to be touched. They love it when you allow your hands to wander and roam all over their bodies when they’re thrusting deep up in you. Grabbing and squeezing his ass, running your fingertips and hands down his back, along his spine, pulling him into you as he’s stroking his dick in you. Men like to be encouraged, urged to serve the dick how you want it. Trust me.
Anyway, find out what excites him. I don’t think a lot of women realize that men have erogenous zones like we do. But often-times, his hot spots go untouched, or undiscovered. Personally, I liken a man’s body to a playground. There’s always something to swing on, slide down on, climb up on, bounce up and down on, or jump on.
And in my personal experience, one of the easiest ways to get a man’s dick hard (besides talking dirty or showing him your pussy and ass) is to kiss him. A nice, slow, sensual, tongue-probing kiss will often get his mind wandering and the juices flowing in no time. Before you know it, he’ll start fantasizing about having his dick up in you.
See, when I’m with a man, I usually start off by massaging his outer ear in slow movements. I gently squeeze or nibble on his earlobes, explore the back of his ear with my lips and tongue, blowing lightly. Women don’t realize how effective this can be. The sound of your breathing and the soft moans alone will usually turn most men on. Of course this technique only works provided your breath doesn’t smell like hot shit.
Anyway, then I travel to his neck, nibbling. Never sucking or biting. I have no interest in trying to mark someone else’s territory since most—not all—of the men I fuck are already involved with somebody else. Now, don’t go rolling your eyes or sucking your teeth. It’s really so unnecessary. Anyway, as I was explaining, I use my lips and tongue to journey down and around his neck to his shoulders, planting soft kisses on them. Then I make my way to his chest. Massaging it with my hands, licking and nibbling, and twirling my tongue over and around his nipples until they become erect, and hard like miniature skittles. Mmm. Planting wet kisses in the center of his chest, down to his navel, dipping my tongue in. Then I flick my tongue over the head of his throbbing dick before running my fingertips and tongue along the inside of his thighs, kissing, licking, and nibbling up and down them until my tongue reaches his balls. Mmm. I fondle them, lightly suck and lick on them, lapping up the scent of desire that clings beneath them. Finally, I place them in my mouth, and softly start to hum, flicking them with my tongue. Then I increase the humming on his balls. Trust me. This little trick takes him to the edge every time, giving him an intense, mind-bending experience. You’ll have him holding his head in his hands, biting on his bottom lip, grabbing the sheets, climbing walls.
Eventually, I give him what he wants most, what he aches for—my soft lips and hot tongue swirling around the head of his dick. I kiss and nibble on it, licking the excitement that seeps and drizzles from its slit. Oooh, mmm. I can almost taste his sweet, sticky nectar. See. When I take him all the way in my mouth, I am swallowing him in, savoring the strength of his dick. And when I feel him about to explode, I massage the fleshy area between his balls and ass, pressing on his prostate, giving him a rush of pleasure that causes him to see stars. Yes, if you didn’t know, now you do. I’m the Nut Cracker, aka the Man Handler. And this, my little darlings, is my official ho report. Welcome to my world, baaaaby!
Um, wait a minute. Before I let you get too deep into whom I am and what I do, I have some questions for you: Is it really as hard as most women say it is to find a good man? Are all the good men already taken? Is there really a shortage of good, decent men in the world? Is the black man really an endangered species? Or is there simply an abundance of lonely, miserable, sex-deprived women out here?
Now, before you respond, let me start off by saying I understand that no man is gonna respect any woman who drops her drawers and throws up her legs to the first man who smiles her way. If you’re an easy lay, that’s all you’re going to be seen as, a quick piece of ass. So don’t start getting all emotional when he starts dissing you, or acts like he doesn’t know you after you’ve swallowed his nut. Take it for what it is, a fuck. If you a ho, say you a ho. And stop all the damn fronting. Chicks kill me catching feelings when a man calls them out of their name, or tries to pass them off to one of his boys. Uh, newsflash: He nutted in your mouth, sweetie. No, he’s not gonna kiss you. No, he’s not gonna make you his girl. The minute you let a man run up in you, the minute you swallow his babies, you played yourself. So stop all the damn whining and begging. Do you. Get your fuck on, and keep it moving. Luckily for me, I don’t have that problem. ’Cause I don’t give a fuck about a man’s respect. Only what’s hanging between his legs!
Between you and me—and yes, I’m an opinionated ho—I think the problem is that women have become so desperate to have someone in their lives, and in their beds, (out of fear of being alone) that they settle for a lot of unnecessary bullshit from men. As far as I’m concerned, women are responsible for the shit they choose to put up with from a man. There’s no point complaining about his ass when (nine times out of ten) you already know, or at least have an idea of, what you’re dealing with. That’s not to say that there aren’t some women who truly have no clue as to what their man is into, or capable of. But once the truth is revealed, they are responsible for their decision to leave or stay, or take his ass back. As far as I’m concerned, if they stay, then their dumb asses deserve to get whatever heart-ache and grief his trifling ass continues to bring them. If they take him back, they deserve what they get. So each of you stop the damn tears, and take the shit and piss he throws in your face like a grown- ass woman.
I often wonder how many women buy into that “It’s better to have a piece of a man, than no man at all” mess. I bet there’s hundreds of thousands, maybe even a few million women who embrace that distorted foolishness, causing them to shed tears, lose sleep, and fight to hold on to a man whom they love more than they love themselves; women who sacrifice and lose pieces of themselves for the sake of having a man in their lives, no matter the cost, no matter the loss. A part of me wants to feel sorry for them, wants to be able to empathize with them; but because I’ve never been there, I can’t bring myself to develop any level of understanding as to why any woman would choose to keep a man in her life who emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually, and (most times) financially drains her.
But for the ones who do, does this make these chicks stupid? Does it make these women victims of their own hearts? Does it mean they lack self-love? Are they bombarded with insecurities? Do they feel trapped?
