Cairo - The Man Handler

“Don’t hold your breath,” I firmly stated, holding the door open for him. “The one thing I never do, boo, is go back to dick I’ve dismissed.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he snapped, brushing past me. “Fucking bitch! I don’t know why I fucked with your ho ass any damn way.”

I laughed at his ass. “But I’m a damn good one, remember that. Got your silly ass feenin’ for this tight pussy, don’t I? Had you tryna suck the nut outta this ho pussy, didn’t I? How many times you had your tongue buried up in this ho’s ass, huh, nigga? Let’s talk about how many times you begged me to let you slide your dick up in this sweet, juicy ho box raw. Nigga, you fucked with my ho ass ’cause I rode your tongue and dick down into the mattress, and had your dumb ass stuttering.”

He glared at me, but said nothing.

“Unh-huh, just what I thought. Yeah, I’m a ho, baby. But you can best believe it’ll be a long, cold day in hell before you ever sniff this pussy again.”

I slammed the door on him, then peered out the window and watched him get into his burgundy Acura coupe and peel out of the driveway, burning rubber in the process. That was months ago. And now he has the nerve to ring my line like everything’s sweet. My, my, my…how the chickens come home to roost.

“Mmm-hmm,” I finally say, flicking imaginary dirt from under my fingernail. “So, why are you really calling?”

“I wanna swing through on my way to work to see you. I wanna lay in bed with you and hold you in my arms.”

“Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you want to lay up in a ho’s bed and hold her in your arms. Now, ain’t this some shit?”

“Oh, here you go; you still on that bullshit?”

“Actually, I’m not,” I state flatly. “I’m merely making a statement.”

“Damn, baby. Listen. I was only talking out the side of my neck. You had me real heated, so I was saying shit to hurt you.”

This nigga can’t be the brightest star if he thinks calling me a ho was supposed to hurt my feelings . The word ho holds no power over me, so calling me one can’t hurt me. I embrace my ho-ism wholeheartedly, with pride and grace.

I laugh. “OhmyGod, you are so fucking hilarious.”

“Why I gotta be hilarious? I’m being dead ass.”

“I’m a ho, remember?”

“Why can’t I only wanna see you?” he asked, igging my remark. “Why I gotta be on some extra shit?”

“’Cause you are,” I answer, still laughing. “Vinnie, baby, do you really think I’m buying that ‘I only wanna see you’ mess? No, nigga,” I say. “You calling ’cause you tryna come through and get that dick wet. You don’t miss me. It’s this sweet, tight pussy being wrapped around your dick you miss.”

He laughs. “So what’s wrong with a brotha missing some good-ass pussy?”

“Nothing,” I state.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“There is no problem. Not for me, that is. But, as for you, this pussy is no longer on the menu, boo-boo. So you shit outta luck.”

“Damn, so it’s like that? I remember a time when you couldn’t get enough of this long, black dick. Let me come through and remind you of how good this dick used to feel up in you.”

Despite myself, I smile—allowing my mind to travel down memory lane, remembering the first time we fucked. Baby, let me tell you. This man did me right. I had gone to Atlantic City—by myself, of course—to chill. I had rented a suite, grabbed something to eat, then went down to the casino to do a little gambling. When I tell you it was heads everywhere, Bally’s was jumping!

Anyway, I didn’t win shit on the slots, but I damn sure hit the jackpot when I brought back up to my room a six-foot-two, one-hundred-and-eighty pound, half-black and half-Italian nigga from Brooklyn. And, yes, I fucked him on the damn spot. And… oh my Gawd! That’s all I can say. Dude tried to dig another hole into this pussy, you hear me? And when he ate me out, he ate this pussy like it was about to be his last night on earth. I’m telling you, the way he darted his tongue in and out of my slit, licking and kissing, and blowing all over my clit, then burying his thick tongue deep inside of me, I thought my walls were going to collapse, the way he made my insides shake. The man had a wicked head game, and almost had me screaming out his name—something I had no intentions of doing. But I damn sure begged him for some of that thick, ten-inch dick. He had my pussy so overheated that I needed it stoked, needed it stroked, needed it fucked deep, and hard, and fast, and all damn night long. His dick sliced into my pussy like a hot knife, causing my walls to melt around his meaty cock. By the time we finished fucking, the sun was coming up and my pussy was beat up real good and well served.

Oh, yes, Vince slayed this pussy something fierce. But he also got on my last damn nerve with his negative-ass, paranoid thinking ’bout the white man trying to bring him down and keep him down. If he lost a job, it was because they were racists. Had nothing to do with the fact that he was still on his ninety-day probation period and was late more than nine times in one month and had been warned another lateness would result in termination. Had nothing to do with him coming to work hung over, or sexually harassing some of the chicks at the job.

In his head, someone was always conspiring against his nutty ass. The man never took any responsibility for any of his choices. Everything that ever happened to him was somebody else’s fault. When his girl put him out and changed the locks on the door, it was because she was fucking someone else. Not because she got tired of his ass coming and going and doing what the hell he wanted. Not because his ass wanted to lie around and be taken care of, and she got sick of it. Oh, no…he had nothing to do with it. OhmyGod, every time I was with his ass, he had one complaint after another. I mean, damn! Whenever he opened his mouth, I would start to hear violins playing. It got to the point I couldn’t even fuck his ass in peace. So you know the mofo had to go. When your bullshit starts disrupting my nut, it’s a wrap.

“So, dig…you letting me come through or what?” he asks, snapping me back to the present, and the reason why I dismissed his ass in the first place.

Instead of hanging up on him, I decide to toy with him. “So, what you saying, big daddy?” I coo. “You wanna bang up this pussy like old times. You wanna make my pussy nut, hunh, big daddy?”

He dips his voice another octave; speaks in a low, seductive whisper. “Yeah, baby. You know that’s what I’m tryna do. Let daddy come get up in that fat pussy, baby.”

I lie back in bed and decide to seize the moment. A girl like me believes she should never pass up an opportunity to pleasure herself at an unknowing man’s expense. I spread open my legs and place my left hand over my pussy, massaging my neatly trimmed mound. I glide my hand to my clit, lightly brush it with my fingertips, then slip a finger inside my hole.

“You wanna slide your long dick down in my deep, wet throat and face-fuck me like old times, hunh, daddy?”

“Damn, girl, why you fucking with me? You got my dick hard as hell, baby.”

“Mmmm. You want me to drop down low and suck that hard dick balls-deep, don’t you, daddy? Edge it. Lick your balls…stick my tongue in your ass. Give you a long, hot, slow cock-sucking until your nut explodes in my mouth and down my throat. Is that what you want?”

“Oh, shit yeah,” he says. “You gonna let me get some pussy or what?”

I slip another finger inside my pussy and massage the opening of my walls, rotating and twisting and pumping until my fingers become warm, creamy-coated sticks of pleasure. My voice catches in the back of my throat as I feel an orgasm swirling. “Tell me…what…you wanna do…to this…pussy…if I let you come through?” I say, moaning as I pull my fingers out of my slippery slit and suck the sweet, sticky elixir, then plunge each finger back in.