“Yes.”
“So . . .”
“Tre’, I’ve always been yours.”
“I know I fucked up.”
“You did.”
“I love you, Tia.”
“I love you too, always.”
“Be with me.”
“I’d have to murder you, Tre’.” She smirks and is fully aware of what that does to me.
Bowing my head in shame, I smile, and at the same time she rubs her foot across my leg.
My eyes gaze down at her leg—big, thick, juicy, sweet, caramel-coated piece of heavenly perfection. And those shoes. Those come-fuck-me-daddy heels, with the peep toe and cherry-red painted nails making an entrance, force me into temporary psychosis as I try to regain my composure. The blood rushes to my dick and I’m solid, like the Rock of Gibraltar. She knows it. She knows this dick so well since she was the one who’d trained it. I miss the stickiness of her nectar.
Smiling as she wickedly rubs my leg with hers, she tells me to touch.
“Go ahead. Touch it.” Authority dictates her words.
“Touch what?”
“Whatever you want, Tre’.”
I’m going straight to hell after tonight.
“You look so damn good tonight, baby.”
I want that good ole feeling. The sensation of our bodies as we arrive together. Need that like I need this air I’m breathing.
“Talking like that will get your dick sucked.”
Straight to hell I go, but not until I get knee-deep in that pussy that’s been drowning me so good for the last two decades.
“So, how’s the family?”
HER . . .
The walls of my pussy are set on fire just by the pure thought of him. Sensing the heat on my body, I feel his eyes pierce through to the depths of my soul. I know he’s watching, scoping, observing all of the lumps, bumps, curves, peaks, and valleys better known as me these days.
I’m remembering nights of unbridled passion. I was his godless bride, who sinfully, yet delightfully, received a plethora of deep dick—so deep, I breathed for him.
My favorite nightmare. In my dreams, he is my reality. In my reality, he is all I’ve ever dreamed of. Even in those places and times where our souls collided, and then made love, in this lifetime, in the here and now, and eternities past, over decades, through our ancestors, and beyond; every time I close my eyes, he’s been right there. He says we’ve been married in every life we’ve ever known. I believe him.
When I’m in his arms, I feel free. I’ve fallen, head over heels, for two decades with this man, in this lifetime, others, and throughout eternity.
I remember him . . .
A decade ago, we met once again. Our souls cried to the heavens, shouted aloud to soft clouds; our spirits yearned for the comfort of each other’s pillow. Our bodies, riddled with uncontrollable desire, anxiously waited long enough, too long, for the chance to rekindle, reconnect—to love, to suck, to feel, to fuck, over and over again. Limbs and fingertips, ho
t skin, weak and weary flesh called, our spirits yearned, our souls begged; we put the call out into the universe, she heard our pleas, and placed “us” into the midst of each other, once again, to put closure to a love of the past; a stubborn lust, infatuation, dependency, a rare love, a delightful combination of fire and desire that, over time, became impossible to extinguish.
We met in the parking lot of a mall that we had fucked in, in every crevice and corner allowed. That mall parking lot had seen my ass in the air in the back of a Grand Cherokee. Same mall became privy to a long, thick, chocolate-coated staff that delved into a hot, wet cave that had his name engraved on its sweltering flesh.