Okay, so he didn’t come over. There was no one available to baby sit, so it just didn’t happen.
I was disappointed, you know, but it’s not about quantity for me, it’s about quality. I spoke to him at work yesterday, something is moving him. Moving him towards me.
There is another thing I have been thinking about. It’s something I contemplate as much as I do him. I’ve been working to mentally and emotionally accommodate is the reality that Sweet Thing’s life includes his son. It’s like a package deal; to love him, is to love his son, and I haven’t even met the child yet.
True, I’ve known Sweet Thing since 1993, but as open as our friendship has been, as much as we’ve told each other things, we’ve been as removed as completely as is possible to be from each other’s day-to-day lives.
Letting Sweet Thing into my emotional life has I guess been easier for me. I am naturally open and I am a forgiving person. I also am nowhere near as busy as he is. My working life is relaxed. So for me, wanting to spend a good portion of my spare time with him is easy.
Maybe it’s just easy for me fill my extra hours analysing and reanalysing this situation; obsessing about Papi’s penis and ‘Power of the P’, or the the power of our ‘P’; to obsess about our sex and the amazing possibility of love and sex between us getting deeper, better connected just blows my mind.
Okay, okay, throwing out a line…. bringing it on back. Take a breath!
It’s easy for me to fill line after line, page after page of observations about this relationship and the thread it is clinging to; I could and probably will detail the minutae of this journey I am making with Sweet Thing right now. The point is, I have the ability to pour energy into the recording of my history.
I guess I am beginning to realise that Sweet Thing’s processing of of things is totally different. he said that to me at the beginning of last week and as hard as that was to hear at the time, I guess I’m understanding what that means.
I know he wants me, it’s like not the question here. I think too he is confused because he never thought he could have me to begin with and he’s still got unfinished business elsewhere. For me too, it’s a case of ‘see me and come live with me are two different things’.
So you see how Baba’s words and Ifa’s words are coming to pass?
He called me this morning. Last night we spoke after I sent him the third part of a piece of erotica I’ve been working on for years. I had posted versions of it where he could read them and he had sent me complimentary e-mail after reading the first two parts back in January. That was when I think it sort of registered on me that he really did find me attractive at some level, because he said in the e-mail that he would have to seriously control himself around me, but that if I ever needed a hornerman the I should call him because he was ready to do his duty.
I saw him, think it was a few weeks later. He was in my office hanging out talking to one of my colleagues and I remember that I had stopped to talk with him. It was the first time we had seen each other in something like seven years. We hugged and he kissed my cheek and I remembered he held my hand just a little too long and he seemed a little dazed to me. The chick he was talking to, my colleague had this weird smirk on her face that I found inscrutable. I breezed out of the conversation as easily as I had breezed in and off I went. I kinda forgot the incident until all these long held confessions and shit started this chain reaction.
Our conversations of late (the really long ones) have been probing the surface of what we’re feeling. We’re talking about what is happening… and despite the fact that they [conversations] don’t always happen when I initiate them, we’ve been talking about these things when we can.
This morning, he called me at 4 am. Actually I enjoy our early morning/late night conversations best. At least I think it’s the only time we are really able to communicate.
Our phone sex is hot to me not just because we play with ideas and fantasies, push each other, goad each other…. but I love the noises he makes when he feels pleasure. Because I love to hear him come.
I love that he can stand the strength in my pussy and still not succumb to coming…. he’s like unique that way in my experience. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a man that I could have as many orgasms as I stand–with the exception of KSS in my memory, and my memory pales in comparison as far as I tell where Sweet Thing is concerned.
He came and collected me from work yesterday. He did me a favour by taking me to PriceSmart so I could kind of begin to recover from the devastation of my family’s visit to the house.
We walked around and got the stuff I needed and we talked quite a bit. I think he’s hilarious!! He kept me laughing and you know, I enjoy his company–I always did.
He brought me home and helped me unpack the groceries and stayed to hang out with me for a while. I took a shower and changed into a pair of cut off jeans—what my brother described as ‘poom poom shorts’–and came and sat down while he and my brother talked almost non-stop for about an hour. I wanted to give him as much of a view of my legs and ass as possible. I knew he’d be thinking about them and about fucking me, and I know he likes my legs.
It was weird, I was a little amazed at how similarly my brother’s and his brain work. They have so many of the same attitudes about everything, even though they’re like two completely different people… in any case they talked while I laughed at their craziness.
During the discussion, Sweet Thing and my brother traisped into my room to ascertain indeed whether ‘Smallville’ was on or not, and again so my brother could attempt to prove that ‘Evil Dead 2’ was funny. Sweet Thing and I protested so loudly and adamantly that we were not interested in discovering this on a first hand basis so the three of us sat there and channel surfed and mostly talked shit for about an hour.
I crawled over him to go outside to talk to my brother for a bit, but when I came back in Sweet Thing said, “By the way, I’m impressed with you crawling around in those shorts.”
I giggled, “That’s good, because I wore them just to impress you.”
He continued to channel surfing, me quite disgusted by the lack of anything watchable, we ended up watching The Screaming Headless Torsos on BET on Jazz. That band was almost stupefying in my opinion. We were laughing and giggling.
I wasn’t too impressed, I asked him if we could stop watching TV now. He said that no one had ever asked him that like that before, he said he was a little taken aback.
“You don’t want to just watch TV with me for a little while?” he said almost, but not quite pleadingly.
“Of course I would!” I replied, “But there really isn’t much on to watch.”
“That’s true too.” He said. He surfed around some more before returning to the Screaming Headless Torsos; wow, totally weird band!!
I was lying there, kinda watching the TV, but kinda watching him too. He has such an unusual face and such beautiful eyes, eyelashes and these full sensuous lips. I guess I must have been emanating, because he soon leaned back and came down on one elbow next to me.
We lay together like that… in a long soft embrace. His forehead pressed to my breast under my chin, while I stroked his back, his arms.
We hugged and kissed softly, lightly; we played with each other’s lips, tongues and teeth. I loved that he played with my tongue ring, circling it and sucking my whole tongue into his mouth; he really seems to like my piercings. He kisses like a real man, I don’t know. Mouth open, generous, soft, strong, playful. All the things that strike the right chords with me.
We just kissed for a long time.
It’s been a long time since I’ve just kissed someone…. we did that for about a half an hour. Lips brushing together, parting and coming back, teeth travelling the expanse of teeth and tongue.
He started stroking my arms, I don’t remember when and that turned into him playing with my nipples. How is it that he knows exactly how much I want, where and when without me having to say anything?
I wanted to grab him and make him fuck me, but I had to make myself stay still. I didn’t masturbate while he touched me, like I did the last time, I just enjoyed him rolling and playing with my nipples, while he rolled and played with my tongue. I enjoyed the feeling of anticipation build, fire and heat all through my lower belly until I was containing the shivering inside but only barely.
“I’m going to have to go soon.” He said softly. He went on to tell me about his mother being out of the island and he had to be there if his son woke up in the middle of the night.
In my head, it made sense, but my body was on fire. I said, “Well you don’t have to give me the whole totie…. you could just give me a little.”
He giggled, we both did. “Well you don’t seem like the little bit of totie type.
I protested! I had been horny as hell for a couple of weeks now, he was here with me and he had been lighting me up switch by swtich for the last half an hour with the nipple twiddling and deep kissing, there was no way I was letting him get away.
I grabbed his hand and pushed it down my shorts, “Get in there, feel it!” I demanded.
“It’s unjust!” I cried out.
He kind of sighed — why? — and got up, undressed and pulled off my shorts (I’d lost my T-Shirt back during the nipple twiddling.)
I got up and scrambled for the remote, and played the PERFECTED TORCH SET. It has been my lullaby for two weeks now… since the last time I saw him and I made the CD.
Then, he climbed on top of me and before I could quite catch my breath, he was inside me. When you think about someone in the softest way… if memories of the two of you give off the kind of breeze that can sway you to sleep; if you can feel your heart melting at the thought of someone and all that happens between you; if someone you love makes you want to be a better person….. my scalp prickled and the room tilted and fine sheen of sweat broke out against my skin.
He was here and inside me, and there was no where else that I had to be and the pleasure began and went on and on and on. It’s always like that with him. His penis seems to know me….. he knows how to angle it just right so my orgasms came and came and blended one into the other and it didn’t matter to me who could hear me thanking the Universe for whatever it is that he has that can make me feel that.
By the time we hit Sweet Thing by Mary J Blige in our Soundtrack, it was mostly over for me, I have come at least four or five times. I can still see his face above me, hear Mary J. Blige singing my heart and all my feelings in aching bitter sweetness; I can see him watching me, always watching the pleasure chase pleasure across my face. I can see his look of concentration when he was getting ready to come and I can still hear him whisper, “Oh shit, I’m coming!” before he pulled out and spurted across my belly. I am still there in that moment, in that feeling with him.
Afterward, I laid there sprawled and shivering through my aftershocks, these submerged minor cataclysms that draw out all my sensations. His hand lay across my brow and we lay there like that, blasted apart yet connected.
When Sarah Vaughan’s Corcovado came on the stereo, I told him that it reminded me of the night we spent on the beach… yeah… that’s where Yemaya’s doorway exists. He smiled when I said it, but it must have been obvious.
The last song on the CD, ‘I Be Your Water’ by Sweet Honey in The Rock came and found us sweat drying on our skin and both of us knee-deep in afterglow.
Speaking of afterglow, we didn’t bask for long…. he really did have to get up and go home.
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