Deep in the night, tucked in the crevices of the Black Moon, existed her Monsoon. She waited patiently, perfecting the moment to make her stance. And let him know her desires for him. Could he feel the subtle waves? The breeze of her love dust that swept by his bedroom at night? Quietly, she tip-toed into the unknown and had invited him along.
It seemed rather natural how she pulled up at his residence. Slight moments in the past included him visiting her with minimal, but very intentional contact. Too many thoughts may ruin things. Instinct is what the Gods go by. So, she walked up the steps in his building, sending a text to let him know that she was at the door. Seconds later he swung it open, smiling. And she felt intrigued to walk in.
Bachelor’s Pad she thought as her eyes scrolled. Couch—large television—Sports paraphernalia—a few pieces of Black art—Typical! But very cute….
She took a seat on the couch and he joined her. Laced within the conversation were sips of wine and a few puffs of Ganja. She was a bit uptight, she could admit. I mean, they had been friends for years. Always in the same circles, somehow managing the same spaces. Until recently, she hadn’t had too much one-on-one time with him. That was no longer the case though.
Shortly after her thoughts, he playfully reminisced about their memories and found ways to touch her. She imagined, in an attempt to liquify her energy…making it flow more.
It worked; she threw her head back with laughter and looked into his face. How gorgeous he was. All this time, he had been right there under her nose. And he had made it known, boldly, on several occasions that he craved her. Throughout the years she had curved him, unaware of just how deep his character went. But maturity had her mind thinking different thoughts, unafraid to explore her innermost desires.
I’m like a dream come true to this nigga. And this wasn’t her cockiness, just her wanderlust. She had been wondering about him too. Just earlier that evening, whilst she accompanied a close sister-friend, his name and pictures were brought into discussion. There was always something so mesmerizing about the power of two women speaking over a person or situation. Profound things are given the light to manifest rapidly.
And suddenly, like in a flash, his hands were caressing her back. She had already thought about mentioning to him that she needed a massage. Was he reading her mind, she thought…
He placed his hands around her waist and then brought his hands up to her breasts. Her eyes were closed and she let out a slight moan. He went back to caressing her back, which was more like caressing her Soul. And she had become totally open, ready to surrender, finally! She could feel why he craved her so, what it meant and how it was supposed to be. It was deeper than sex. Deeper than love. They both fell back on the oversized couch of his, laid out with plenty of sections. When their mouths touched for the first time, he gave his approval with a slight moan of his own. He placed his tongue in her mouth, wondering what she tasted like. She coolly accepted and let her tongue massage his. Both of their moans and breaths, in between kisses, grew deeper. She felt chills throughout her body, he had to feel it too!
And with her breasts in his mouth, he looked up at her with intensity. She could feel the fire burning within him. It was a flame that hadn’t exhausted in over a decade. And decadent he was, chocolate and delicious.
“I’ve been waiting for this, for a long time,” he had no problem admitting. She couldn’t resist. He led her to his bedroom and lay her down on his bed. And he reminded her to take things slow, telling her that she would be there all night. More chills enchanted her body. She guided him and he entered her, just a little, and their heads rolled in ecstasy. She bit her bottom lip, signaling him to fully go inside. He was greeted by a warm, wet and very tight island of Paradise.
Her body was open, glowing in the shimmer of the night. She watched him as their eyes connected, and as he closed his in ecstasy. When she got on top of him, he gripped her waist as she guided him with her hips. She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, bit his ear, nibbled his neck and his chest. In unison, and time and time again. They were making love. She was so glad to have finally reciprocated his energy. Honestly, she had been scared of him. Why was that? Could it have been because his energy was too forceful for the “play it safe” mentality she had become so boringly accustomed to? Or because of the childhood wounds she felt, to accept less than what she had deserved. He was her equal. And they had indeed, taken things slow.
The cool-down of the first session included laughs and more sweet reminisces. In their underwear, she sat on his lap, twisting up more from his weed stash. They inhaled each other’s essences, both the smoke and sexual energy filling their lungs.
Round 2. Round 3. Round 4. And even more rounds, as he kept coming back for more. Before she had realized, the light had broken the day. She looked over at him, eyes swollen from crying and body tenderly sore.
“Why the tears?” He asked, whilst kissing her forehead.
She decided to be straight forward. “I prayed for this,” she openly admitted.
“And I did too,” he said.
She exhaled, as her fears were comforted. They lay there, speaking about their dreams well into the morning. Around 8am, he went to go grab her coffee and bagels. They enjoyed breakfast together, smiled and reminisced and she then went on her way.
Still afraid, she climbed into her own bed later that day and wondered. When she woke, there were two missed calls from the man she had spent the last evening with.
“Hello,” he answered, his baritone making her melt.
“Good evening mi amor,” she said back, sitting amongst burning candles.
He arranged a date for that next weekend and told her that she was all he had been thinking about.
Exhale. And many praises to the Black Moon; encased was her Monsoon.