Purple Panties

“Wait.” Sabela stiffened in the chair and took her leg from me.

“Did I do something wrong?” I sat back, resting on my heels.

“No. I just don’t usually move this fast.”

“Me either, baby (okay sometimes), but you bring something fierce out of me,” I told her. “I feel like a slave to your energy right now…I know you feel it…you make me wanna bare my soul to you…make me wish I could beg in Swahili.”

That made her smile. Oh yes, you will be mine tonight.

“Please, Sabela, trust me. I promise we won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay? Let me love you, baby.” She didn’t readily respond. But first you must be coaxed back into your comfort zone.

“Okay, let’s dance then,” I said. I stood up, pulled her from her chair and led her into the living room by the hand. The soft sounds of Jonathan Butler’s guitar serenaded us. The living room was darkened; except for the dim twinkling of candles. As I rolled my hips against her, I told her we would need every flat surface in the house to do all the things my mind was conjuring. I kissed her eyelids. Squeezed her ass. My hands roamed her toned curves. She unbuttoned my shirt and the next thing I remember was being on top of her on the sofa. Sweet surrender.

“I need to tell you something,” Sabela whispered, her urgency scorching my ear.

“Whatever it is, baby, it won’t change anything. I still want you.”

She helped me lift her top over her head. She rested on her elbows as my tongue flicked the exposed nipples. As she began to speak again, I covered her mouth with my kiss. This is a dance we do well together. But when I opened the button of her jeans, she snatched my hand away and sat up. Not again.

“What’s wrong, love?” I tried to sound patient.

“I just can’t.”

“Is this your first time?” Maybe it does matter.

She didn’t answer. Using my failsafe seductive tone, (it has relaxed the most tightly wound of virgins) I said: “We don’t have to do anything. Just let me hold you.”

It failed. Sabela stood and smoothed her clothes and hair anyway. She moved into the hallway toward the front door.

“It’s not that,” she said.

“What then?”

I leaned close to her face and tried to block the path to the door. She moved around me and reached for the knob. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and nuzzled my face in her mesh of locs. Still wants to be chased, I guessed.

“I don’t understand why you’re fighting this. You know me,” I said, feeling like an adolescent boy with a hard-on he doesn’t want to have to jerk again tonight. Sabela began to relax in my arms.

&n

bsp; “This is not about sex,” I assured her as I moved us into a face-to-face embrace. “I am concerned about my friend who is clearly upset.”

I think I meant it. I think I was ready to accept her explanation, once again, for why we would go no further. So imagine my utter surprise when she pulled me into a ravenous kiss. I’m better at this than I think I am. We groped and tore at each other’s clothes until only sweat lay between us.

Back in the living room, I bent Sabela’s graceful nakedness over the back of the loveseat. As I made my way to a kneeling position on the floor behind her, my nipples traveled the salty trail of her back. She spread her legs. Welcomed me. On my knees, I rubbed my face across the smoothness of her ass. I pressed my face into it. My tongue penetrated her soft, warm tunnel. Tickled the puckered edges. Charged relentlessly in and around the canal. Sabela made incoherent sounds into the cushions of the loveseat. Her knees buckled a little when my fingers moved up toward the opening of her pussy. I was meandering through the wetness, lost in the aroma and texture of it all when I realized that Sabela’s clitoris tip was…flattened? Not completely flat, it felt like a cushy knuckle lay just beneath the skin. Still, she didn’t have a whole clit. I didn’t want to stop but, honestly, I didn’t really know how to go on. She must have sensed the hesitation in my movements because she quickly unfolded herself and stood over me.

“Why did you stop!?!” It wasn’t really a question. It was more of an accusation. She spoke in a cool, hardened tone I hadn’t heard her use before.

“I am just a little surprised.” I cleared my throat and gulped too loudly.

“I see.” Sabela replied, her tone still cool. She began pacing back and forth in semicircles around my kneeling stature. “And now you want to stop?”

Sabela seemed angry. I was confused.

“Was that the initiation?” I asked, trying to stand.

But she wasn’t having it. She pushed me back to my knees and—get this—stepped on my hand. She had something in store for me.

“‘I’ll still want you, baby.’ Isn’t that right?” Sabela was mimicking me again, but there was a titillating wickedness in her voice.