I lowered my gaze and saw him bring his mouth to my most intimate place. The sensations so mind-numbing that I struggled to keep my head up. Heart rates increase and my back arched. It felt like my soul wished to burst out of its shell to fully express this pleasure I hadn't felt in the longest while.
"Oh god".
The only words my tongue and trembling lips could muster. The sound of my diffused words reassured him that he was in the right place—between my legs.
How we got to his bed, I can't even remember but all I know is, we are here and this was happening!
My body welcomed the first-time visitors that were his fingers and my hand reached for his semi-bald head in reception. Then, he opened his eyes and looked up at me.
It was so erotic that my heart skipped a beat—struggling to catch up to the tempo of his tongue while the arch in my back deepened in pleasure-released. I screamed out his name clawing at the bed sheets as if it was their doing that put me in this exciting position.
You see, it was not my intention to have D.J. bury his face deep in between my legs but oh, how glorious it was: to have a man stimulate my sensitive parts. This forbidden pleasure that was sure to send me to hell.
I have come to learn that not every man does this. Giving a woman oral sex. How immature!
Yes. He liked me and the feeling was mutual. However, he was bereaved not too long ago and was not ready for a serious relationship—my opinion, which I freely shared with him. Either way, I was laying naked in his bed with the lights on, shining on my melanin. I felt like a goddess as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I understood, in that moment, why my skin fascinated him—this melanated body where civilization began.
I basked in the worship!
I can't tell how much time had gone by. Maybe 20 minutes and he was still wasn't satiated by my essence. I was not expecting his long tongue inside me and neither was my body as my pelvic muscles clinched up.
D.J pulls back and looks up at me.
I hate it when men do that but I knew what it was: edging and I was going to have to be cool with it. Our lips conversed for a little while. The taste of my essence on my tongue was highly erotic and now, I got why he was down there for this long—the sweet taste reminiscent of honey and brown sugar so obvious on the palette I questioned my own humanity!
I prolonged the conversation. I hadn't tasted myself in such a long time I had forgotten how sweet I was. "You taste like dessert, Olivia", he whispered sensually into my ear as his warm breath awakened the nerves on my neck. This was a distraction
I chuckled and he slid inside me.
The languages known to man are limited for no words in any language or dialect can fully or accurately express the feelings he brought to me. The musician in me noticed the change in background for that is what it was. Tonight, I was the show. As he kissed my neck down to my full, F-cup breasts—which fascinated him every time we met—I became extremely wet. His strokes filled with sheer determination and desire.
How could I wish he'd stop and continue in the same thought?
But, I did.
Suddenly, the fear of unabated pleasure above me but I quickly quenched it.
He saw the trepidatious desire in my eyes and coaxed me into submission. My nipples stood erect as if with firsthand knowledge of his arrival. He sure was taking his time and I was enjoying for neither of us wanted this performance to end—the pianist and the guitarist in arpeggiated harmony that would baffle even the greatest of composers.
His lips worked their way down to my belly ring and just as I was preparing myself to receive his tongue and fingers again, he bypasses them choosing to teasingly kiss my inner thighs—making eye contact with me the whole time like a charmer and the cobra: my gaze following his every move. Or was it the other way around?
What did I do to deserve this punishment?
By this time, my essence overflowed spilling onto his sheets and he smiled with this look in his eye; it was like, he wanted to devour me in the most carnal way and in one motion, he pulls me closer by my thighs.
Placing his hands by my ears he positions himself and halts, taking in the beauty in my melanin one more time and I smile with this knowledge. I giggle for a split second and then he slides up inside me again. But this time, my face begs for mercy as he enters me with one full thrust of his muscular hips.
I gasped as he caresses my 4c hair. I have one golden rule: never touch my hair but that rule quickly began obsolete as all 9.5 erect, inches of him enter my very happy place. Slowly, he pulls out—halfway then back in, again. Each time, my lungs gasping for the hot, misty air of sex that filled the room.
I now lay there in anticipation of the "big one".
It came.
And it was amazing!
I relished in the pleasure but my judgment quickly stepped in and slapped it in the face!
He is not ready but you am falling for him.
This realization hastened the death of my libido and froze my orgasm in time. It was in this moment I decided we could only become friends and that this.....would NEVER happen again!
This has to be possible because I am not about to get caught up in a situation where I fall head over heels for D.J. Falling in love is not an abstract happening that I reject or fear. But every time I have been in love, it has been a one-sided happening! Highly unfortunately and pathetic, really.
Strapped in the front seat of his car, my eyes wander into the forests hoping to catch a glimpse of the monkeys but I knew, I wouldn't see them: it was nighttime. An hour had passed unnoticed and we were at my junction. I try to get out of the car—partly disappointed in myself for permitting sexual decadence and partly "okay" with it—but he stops me.
"Aren't you gonna say goodnight?", asked D.J.
I spaced out for a quick second.
"Goodnight", I said as I looked him in the eye cracking a smile, forcibly.
.....................................................................
The alarm goes off as it does 5 times a week at precisely 7a.m. My tired eyes opened, my mind wishing that it was Saturday morning again so I could escape into my alternate reality that is Game of Thrones. I envisaged that I am Khaleesi and Arya Stark at the same time! Crazy, I know!
Standing in my shower lathered up with my Dudu Osun black soap, I contemplated the work that lied ahead of me this Monday morning and what I was to wear.
Maybe the pencil skirt with the red shirt?
Let's just see what my skin decides this humid morning. Eczema decides what fabric I put on my skin most of the time but it is under control....for now. The smell of the black soap mixed the coconut oil catapults my mind to the shores of Hawaii although I have never been. But all the images my brain has stored play a short clip in my mind.
The alarm for 8 a.m. sounds alerting to leave my house to catch a ride with my neighbor. It is in this moment I realized I was standing naked covered in coconut oil the whole time with my kinky hair matted from last night's lax.
Oh, well.
