The Man Handler

I keep my elbows planted on my desk, cupping either side of my face in the palms of my hands. I stare at her as she speaks, then subconsciously drum my fingers along the sides of my face. I find myself daydreaming about sucking some dick. And somehow the thought makes me remember back two years ago when I was at the Mall at Short Hills and bumped into this sexy, brown-skinned dude as I was coming out of the Verizon store. Dude had a shaved head, a mustache and goatee, and muscles for days. Yes, I gave him the once-over. Sure did. And didn’t care how obvious I made it. He got the hint and started trying to get his mack on. We walked over toward the chairs in front of Bloomingdales and talked.

Now, I’m not exactly sure how the topic of sex came up—well actually, I do. It was right after he asked me what I liked to get in to, and I told him, “Sucking dick.” Dude (and for the life of me, I can’t remember his name) asked me what it was about dick sucking that I enjoyed the most. I had to think about it for a minute. Then I answered.

“The one thing I enjoy most about sucking dick is the fact that I am in total control of how good I make a man feel. I can lick, flick, nibble, suckle, slob, gobble, jerk, and swallow the dick. Massage his balls with my tongue, mouth and hands. Make him pant with anticipation. Bring him to the edge of ecstasy, then either push him all the way over or pull him back all in one stroke. Every time I take a man’s dick in my mouth, I literally have him by the balls. And that to me is power.”

Then he asked me what thoughts ran through my mind when I was sucking dick. I told him, “When I’m sucking dick, I’m thinking about my throat being my pussy, wet, warm and tight around a man’s cock. My only focus is doing whatever it takes to get him off. I like to be face-fucked. And I like for a man to cum as many times as he likes.”

By the time I was done talking, dude was licking his lips, drooling. Said I had him wanting his dick in my mouth right then. I looked down at the bulge in his pants, and smiled. Yes, I knew I had his undivided attention. So, me, being who I am, decided to take it a step further. I asked him who he was out there with. When he said he was by himself, I asked him what he was driving.

He said, “An Escalade.”

I leaned in, lowered my voice real sexy-like, and asked, “You ever had your dick sucked in a mall parking garage?”

He looked around, then grinned. “No. Can’t say that I have.”

I smiled. He smiled. I gazed down in his lap, licked my lips and told him I felt like sucking some cock. I could tell I shocked him. He leaned back in the leather seat, opened and closed his muscular legs, probably to pinch the throbbing in his crotch.

I gestured for him to come closer with my index finger, then leaned in his ear and whispered, “Let me wrap my hot mouth and wet tongue all over your fat cock. It is fat, right?”

I wanted some dick, but not one that didn’t have any meat on its bone. Like I said before, I’m not a size ho, but if I’m going to suck a dick I don’t want to have to do it through a straw. I was relieved when he said it was nice and thick. “Let’s go sit in your truck.”

“For what?” he asked, trying to act like he didn’t know what was up.

“So I can suck down your dick and lick your balls,” I said.

He nervously looked around to make sure I was talking to him. I hate when men do that shit. It’s all good when they come at a woman, but when the tables are flipped, most of ’em seem to clam up, and start getting all nervous and shit. Why is that?

Anyway, he said, “Sure, why not?”

And of course, I made sure to ask how long his dick was, and if it was cut. When he said it was eight inches and cut, I told him to lead the way to his truck so I could spin his top.

As soon we got inside his truck, I told him to pull it out. Even soft, it was nice and meaty. My mouth drooled as he stroked it. I pulled out my ruler, measured it. Confirmed his exact inches, then rolled a cherry flavored condom over his dick, and sucked him and licked all over his smooth balls until he popped his nut. I wanted so bad to suck his thick dick raw, but knew that was not an option. And neither was seeing him again.

I bring my attention back to Nahdirah. And she is still rambling on about nothing.

“…I can’t believe that bitch was implying that Rachel slept with Jake.”

“Well, did she deny it?” I ask, not really caring either way.

“Well, no. Not really. But…” she says, pausing.

I sigh, getting annoyed. “But what?”

“I asked Jake about it, and he didn’t deny it either.”

Because he fucked her ass, you dizzy bitch! I scream in my head.

“Well, did he admit it?” I ask.

“No, he said she was fucking crazy.”

Of course he did, my mind snaps. That’s what they all say.

“Okay,” I say, gesturing with my hand for her to hurry the hell up and finish this boring-ass story. “Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is my gut tells me that they did sleep together. And I said something to Cheryl about it this morning and she shifted her eyes like she knew something, then told me to leave it alone.”

I glance at my watch. “Listen. Do you think you can speed this up? I have a lot to do today.”

“Geesh,” she says, acting offended, “who got your panties all in a bunch today?” She folds her arms tightly across her chest, sitting back in her seat.

“No one,” I snap. “I’m not in the mood for any of this ghetto-trash drama. And anything that has to do with any of these chicks here is exactly that. I could not care less about which ho in this building slept with your man. I told you from gate to stop telling these f-ing trollops your damn business, but you keep yapping your jaws.”

“The only person I tell anything to besides you is Cheryl, and she’s never given me a reason not to trust her.”

I laugh at her stupidity. “Are you serious?! She’s the main one who grins up in your face, then talks about you, and laughs at you behind your back.”

“Well, I can’t say if that’s true or not since nothing’s ever gotten back to me.”

I shake my head. “Bless your heart. You need to buy a vowel and get a clue, for real. But hey, it’s your life, not mine. Humph. I don’t know why you have to hang around them birds, anyway. But you do. So I have to wonder about you as well.”

She raises her eyebrow. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

There’s a part of me that likes this chick; but, like I told you before, she could never be any friend of mine. “It means birds of a feather tend to flock together. So, if you’re not one of ’em, but choose to hang around ’em, then stupid is what stupid does. And you get what you get. I told you before about fucking with these chicks here. But you keep on grinning up in their faces. So, truthfully, I don’t want to hear nothing about what they said, or did, or felt. Now, unless you have something else constructive to talk about, kindly remove yourself from my office, and take this foolishness somewhere else.”

She jumps up from her seat, slamming her hands on her hips. “You got a lot of nerve to be judging me,” she snaps.

“I’m not judging you,” I snap back. Bitch! “I’m judging the company you keep. But if the shoe fits, then wear it well.”

She swings open my office door, and storms out, leaving a dust of anger behind her. I frown, shaking my head. Pathetic, I think, getting up from my seat to close the door. I’m sorry to say this, but some women out here are fucking trifling. And, trust me. It damn sure isn’t always a man’s fault for some of these women being so damn jacked up.

My cell phone rings. I glance at the number that flashes across the screen. It’s Garrett. I sigh, contemplating whether or not I should answer. Against my better judgment, I pick up. Attitude in my tone. “Hello?”

“We need to talk,” he says flatly.

“About?”

He sighs. “What we were talking about last night.”

“There’s nothing else to talk about. You said what you wanted, and I told you what I wasn’t going to give you. What more is there to talk about?”