Conversation

There is a knock at the door.
I look through the peep hole, he is standing there.
I am surprise to see him...
“What’s up?” I whisper
“I am” he replies.
With a sheepish grin, I reply... “Oh... I can fix that.”
I got on my knees, in the hallway, at the door
I unbuckle his belt, pull the zipper down, then the pants
His dick is straining against his briefs.
My cat jumps at the sight of this.
I pull his briefs down... his shaft springs out and bounces on my nose...we chuckle at this
I gently suck on the tip of his head
I stick my tongue in it and start to massage him
I close my eyes and relish at the taste of him
I circle the tip of his penis every now again, placing the tip of my tongue on the hole
I take all of him
His entire penis in my mouth, and gently suck on him
pulling him in and out of my mouth like if he is fucking my crotch
he starts to move his hips slowly
I allow him to change the rhythm and create his own pace
he stops periodically, just to feel the moment
I push him from my mouth and suckle on the head of his dick
utilizing my tongue ever so often,
he stops me... and gently pushes his shaft into my mouth
in and out in and out in and out, each time, doing it harder...I am keeping up.
He is my man and I know him well.
I give him a slight grip so he can feel some tightness
his breathing is laboured, he grips the back of my head
in and out in and out in and out in and out
he screams my name
now... I get the full taste of him.

Last Supper

We are not speaking to each other
had a huge fight a few days ago and the tension is thick
I have had enough!
I came home early, showered, dressed in a white cotton dress. The fabric is see-through
No drawers
I prepare his favourite meal
Put a few bottles of his favourite beer on ice
I hear the keys in the door
I know he can smell the aroma of baked salmon down the hall
He enters the house, greets me with a whispered hello.
The last few evenings the greeting was a grunt.
He walks towards the bedroom, I let him know dinner will be ready in 10 minutes
10 minutes flat he walks into the dining room
He is showered and dressed in white draw string slacks and t-shirt
No underwear.
We sit, say a prayer over our meal, and begin to eat.
Silence between us
The only noise in the room is the sound of cutlery hitting against each other
he polishes off his plate
Takes two gulps from the Heineken bottle
wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin
places the napkin on the plate
looks at me and says "now it’s time for dessert"
he gets up, pushes the chair back
bends down, goes under the table and crawl towards me
pushes my dress upand starts to eat my pussy
under there he finds my dress and the seat of the chair soaked with my love for him
his tongue is fixated on my clit.
He moves the tip of his tongue
over and over and over and over my clit
I am weak. I beg him to stop, he ignores my plea.
He thrusts his tongue in and out of my pussy like a small prick,
massages the walls of my cat periodically
again I plead with him to let me go
he muffles “NO!”
He licks and licks and licks and licks
and then he blows.
A wave of passion consumes my body
I explode all in his mouth.
I am wasted.
He pushes the chair back with me in it
he is so strong
he comes from under the table
lays his head on my lap
and whispers "I am sorry and I love you."

Reflection

staring at my reflection in the ceiling.

Morning Coffee

Exiting Grand Central Station these last few weeks. I notice him. Standing in the Starbucks line, for the life of God, I cannot understand how people queue for coffee in a paper cup. He is always there, patiently waiting his turn, habitually reading the NY Times. On this particular day he is reading the travel section. God is this a sign? Even if it isn't I am going for it! “You should consider Barbados for your next trip” I quipped. He looks up, gives me the one over, smiles, looks me dead in the eye and responds “only if you join me.”

Georgia's celebration

I am 6'1, he must be 6'6; dark, slim built, handsome, smooth skin, white teeth, well-dressed, beautiful smile. He walks with a commanding stride, but he blends in. His spirit, warm and inviting. Dear God what a master piece you have created! Fingers are long, I wonder if he plays the piano? There is a woman sitting next to him, she does sit as if she is the queen to this king. Text the host in the middle of her party to inquire, she looks at me and burst out laughing. That is his wife! So my approach strategy just went belly up. OH WELL! lol lol lol

Choice

He is choosing locks instead of a weave, dark skin instead of light skin, 6 feet instead of average height, straight toes instead of bunions, supple breasts instead of a silicon chest. No acrylic, false eye lashes or tinted eyes; subtle makeup instead of a palette plate; scented oil instead of heavy perfume. He is choosing something different.

Scent of a woman

Spray perfume on my pulse points, so he can smell me before he sees me. Massage scented oil in my locks. Dust powder on my inner thighs just in case. He must never forget the scent of his woman.

Coffee Black

Thinking of having milk in my coffee; never had milk in my coffee. Always enjoyed it black with two teaspoons of sugar, but I have been convinced to try milk in my coffee.

Marks

Lying in bed, well-oiled, dark skin glistening from the glow of a dim light, dark skin smooth, dark skin supple and toned, long legs, tight ass, rippled arms, wet seat. Anxious! Waiting! Fuck! How many times have I envisioned this man walking towards me, naked, no, not quite - some skin covered - covered in marks; arms covered in marks, legs covered in marks, back of his shoulder, the nape of his neck and chest.He walks in.Goliath, Samson and Mandingo rolled in one. His shaft jumps at the sight of me lying in the bed. He says my name as a whisper. I cannot respond because the words are caught in the tidal wave that is storming in my crotch. He says my name again, this time it is response to the wetness he feels via his shaft that is well positioned between my legs. He calls the Lord's name, I whisper "this is not the best time to get him involved" he chuckles.I use my fingers to trace the marks I can reach. He must have every tribe depicted on his body... he has alliance to no one. The marks represent all Mother Nature’s offspring.He says my name again! “Yes!” I respond, finally finding my voice. “I want you to focus on me and not the marks,” he says. “But you are the marks and the marks are you,” I whisper.