by Anne Leigh
So when someone told me, “I found the one,” or, “I’ll marry this woman,” I found it hard to believe. How could someone commit their life to one woman, one girl, one pussy for the rest of his life? The same should be said about the lady – was she nuts to sleep with only one guy, one man, and see only his dick for the rest of her existence?
My buddy, Zander, married way too young. He should’ve played the field some more before he shackled himself to that nerdy nurse girl, granted she was hot, and even when she got pregnant, he shouldn’t have married her.
That was more than three years ago.
Three years could change a person’s perspective.
In this case, mine.
The woman in front of me, her skin sultry, sweaty from our exertions, her disheveled state only added to her sensual appeal, and the way she was holding herself from what I’d just revealed, she was the one who made all of the other three billion females disappear in the dust for me.
I didn’t know it then.
I loved her, that part I’d at least grasped with my dumb head of a brain. But I didn’t know she was the one, the only one for me.
Until the day she left me.
You know the love songs written about letting a person go to find out if you loved her or missed her like crazy after you pushed her away? Or any type of sentimental bullshit that musicians write about when they’re brokenhearted? Well, I could’ve given them material to write a dozen songs or more with all the angst and the pain that had been eating me for the past months.
Eight months ago she terminated our relationship.
But I checked out way before that.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she rasped, a show of tears started around her eyelids. Even after crying, she was beautiful. The dimple that only appeared on her left cheek when she was extremely happy was nowhere to be found. Her face held the flush that only satisfying sex gave, and while it was true that I could build a museum to showcase her 36C breasts, only for my viewing pleasure, the one thing that I loved the most about Nalee was her aura. She exuded quiet grace and confidence and appreciated the smallest things that made life great.
We were talking about the Hello Kitty with wings that was tattooed on my chest. Some people might call it silly or corny, but I was never one to pay attention to what single-minded people thought about my decisions. The Hello Kitty was for Nalee’s obsession with that damned icon, and the wings that cloaked my tattoo? They symbolized angel wings.
Gathering her shoulders in my arms, I massaged the soft, supple skin I’d missed so much, “She was a part of you and me, Nales. I loved her too.”
Her eyes met mine, and what I saw was something I’d hoped I never see again – honest accusation, blame, hate. “Stop the bullshit, Xavier. You didn’t love her.”
Standing to her full height, all 5’3” sexual goddess that she was, she tugged at her dress as she put it on while launching attack words at me. “When did you love her? Before or after you screwed your harem of women? I knew this was a mistake…I can’t believe I did this. I promised myself I would never fall for your stupid acts again. I just…ahh…I’m calling a cab.”
Her purse was in my car and I had locked it, so I comfortably situated myself on the couch, preparing myself for a long night of fighting.
I could handle fighting with her. Fighting meant she was showing emotions; they may be bad, but at least she was getting them off of her chest.
“Where the hell is my purse?” I’d never get tired of her nagging, screaming voice. The thing with Nalee was when she was all naggy and pouty and screamy, she was primed for sex. My cock reared back to life. I did promise her to last way longer than I did. Nalee was my porn star. I’d cancelled my subscription to Skin-e-max and Pay Per View when she moved in with me. She wasn’t scared to give me instructions on how to please her, and boy, when I gave her directions, she never missed a beat in following my orders.
Her mouth kept saying something and all I could think about was her lips wrapped around my cock.
“You’re such a pervert!” Finally something I could relate to. Glancing down to my boxers, she huffed, “I can’t believe you’re freaking turned on.”
She was still launching explosive threats when I walked up to her and lifted her off her feet. I blocked her screaming fit by kissing her senselessly until her body became Jell-O to my demands. Once we reached our bedroom, yes, even if she had moved out, I still considered it our bedroom and no other woman will ever step inside of it, I dropped her on the bed.
Locking her thighs with my legs, a feat that was quite easy since she was a tiny, petite lady, I grabbed the bottom of her dress and one of my fingers crept inside her underwear-free, bare pussy.
Damn, she was wet. Again. The fact that she was still wet from earlier only made me harder, the animalistic drive to possess her hadn’t left me and probably never would.
“Oohhh…” Her moans ignited the ember of lust burgeoning inside my boxers and the heat swarmed all over my body. She always had this effect on me. Her pull never faded, just got stronger and more dominant with each passing day.
I slid a finger inside her wetness and I felt her pussy walls clamp against it. I quickly shucked my boxers with my left hand, caressing each surface of skin I’d uncovered, slowly peeling, lifting her dress from her body. This time I was taking my time with her. I was going to give her the attention and dedicate an hour to pay homage to her delectable body.
I didn’t want her to go off like a rocket. Yet. I wanted to savor the feeling of having her beside me, underneath me again. Make her want for nothing so she’d never leave me again. I knew I couldn’t use sex as a staying potion, but I was desperate; I’d use anything to make her want to be with me, even if it was just for my body. I’d lost her once. I’d never forgive myself if I lost her again.
“You like this?” My tongue tasted the coconut honeysuckle body lotion she loved to slather on her body. Her legs squirmed as I licked the inside of her thighs, but I pried them open.
Oh no, sweetie, you’re not going to deny me your sweet nectar.
Yeah, I just said nectar. I was the bee that would gather all of her nectar and keep them stored in my mouth for possible times of drought.
Call me crazy? I just don’t friggin’ care.
She was still trying to criscross her legs when my finger took a dip in her sweet spot. I missed this. As much as I missed her smiles and her presence, I missed her taste. I rarely went down on women. I just didn’t find it appealing as foreplay. There were hundreds of things I could do that could make a woman wet. Special occasions such as birthdays, Valentine’s day, Christmas, one-time Hanukkah – those were the days I’d give tongue-in-pussy action. Other than that, no way.
It wasn’t until I tasted Nalee’s sweet confection, the one that was dripping from her core right now, that I’d developed an addiction for the taste of pussy. Her douchebag of an ex-boyfriend had given her a sad case of chlamydia, so Nalee was quite scared the first time I went down on her. Honestly, I was too. Hell, we both kept checking my tongue for signs of growing white, cheese-looking stuff a week after our first time. We Googled, Binged, and Yahoo searched everything about Chlamydia, and even if all the literature stated that the antibiotics Nalee took cleared her of it, I knew she was still hesitant and embarrassed about the whole incident. It wasn’t her fault she got the STD. She’d trusted a lying, future doctor to keep his junk in his pants. Unfortunately, he was spreading venom with his colleagues in and out of the medical community. It gave me immense satisfaction when my buddy John and I tagged him as an STD petri dish on CSUF’s social media sites. He was a cocky bastard who preyed on vulnerable women. I wasn’t a saint. But I wasn’t a bastard either. I’d never cheat on my girlfriend, give her a disease, and then try to get out of the lie.
“Xavier, stop teasing me,” her voice was pleading as I continued massaging her pussy with my tongue. I alternated stroking her with my fingers. Slowly going in with one, t
wo fingers, then punishing her with my tongue and repeating the process all over again. “Please give it to me…”
Ignoring her pleas, I bent her knees so I could gain full access. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the glorious sight. The small triangle of barely-there hair covered her pussy, her clit burgeoning from its shell, and with our light blue bedsheets completely soaked from her wetness, I’d never felt more proud than I did at that moment.
Whatever sins I made in the past, someone had forgiven me because she was in my life.
“What do you want, sweetie?” My mouth dripped with the proof of her arousal as I climbed up, my erection lining up with her pussy, poised for entry.
Her eyes opened to reveal lustrous, glimmering, hazel eyes that were more green than brown right now. She released a gasp as I pushed two fingers inside of her while I asked, “Do you want me inside of you?”
“Yessss. Ahh, damnit yes.” Her breaths came in short, raspy pants, filled with so much need.
“Say it.”
“I need you.” Her hands reached up to my neck, pulling me in closer, knowing that if my top half was closer, the lower half of my body would be sliding inside of her.
“What do you need?” I loved teasing her, she was a wild woman when she didn’t get what she wanted right away.
Taking her right hand from her hold on my neck, she touched her right breast, pulling on her nipple. My cock just might have had a seizure by the end of the night with the massive amount of twitching she was creating.
“Inside me. Your cock, Xavier.” She had no qualms in letting me know what she wanted. “Deep this time.”
Okay, my cock could now officially cut diamonds.
Digging her fingers into my back, she lifted her head from the pillow. “This time make me scream so the next block hears me.”
“I love you,” I said as I sank down into her soft, wet, so frigging tight pussy. “I love you so much.”
Her response was an, “Unh, yes, yesss,” and her legs opened wide to receive the furious pounding I knew she craved. Gentle sex with Nalee was great. Hard core pounding was even better.
I slammed into her ferociously, thrusting into her deep, slow, in, out, changing my angle each time my condom-cloaked cock found its way inside of her.
Crossing her legs behind my back, the position enabled me to go dive in deeper, into the sleek warmth only she could give me.
“Harder baby. Deeper.” Her echoed desire fueled me to push in, burying myself to the hilt, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was the only sounds I could hear along with her ecstatic moans.
I lowered my head to taste the pillowy softness of her breasts, lifting the globes so I could lick the skin right on top of her breastbone. Before Nalee, I was an ass man. After Nalee, I couldn’t even remember the time I wasn’t a breast guy. She had firm, perky, soft breasts that I would spend my lifetime worshipping. Sometimes she complained they were too heavy, and each time I’d offered to lift them for her.
“You like it when I suck you like this?” My mouth devoured the nipples that continually puckered up and stiffened when my tongue grazed them.
She could no longer speak, but her eyes dilated when I pushed inside her in short strokes. She was closing in on her climax and as much as I wanted to hold off, I was losing my edge, my control fading as she lifted her hips to meet my demands. Her mouth opened, and let out a long gasp, her moan of pleasure egging me to never stop.
Her eyes fluttered closed and I felt her insides squeeze my cock harder, hold it for a three seconds, and release.
“I’m coming,” her breathy moans permeated in the room, her legs slowly slackening off of my waist. Entangling my mouth with her lips, I tasted the champagne she’d had for dinner mixed with her own scent. I kissed her without holding anything back as I rammed into her, thrusting, clamoring for my own release. Her tongue swirled inside my mouth and as our heated breaths mingled, I found myself teetering on the edge. When she bit my tongue, I spilled myself inside the condom and stayed inside her.
Planting my body on top of her, I pushed to my elbow to relieve her of my weight and released a satisfied breath, “You’re amazing Nales.”
Her smile widened as she said, “Thank you. I’ve had tons of practice.”
That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.
When had she found the time to sneak away from my P.I. and go on sexual trysts? How many lovers had she taken after me?
An inexplicable surge of jealousy filled me. I’d spent all of my time watching her, waiting for her, and she had the gall to go around and sleep with other people?
“I gotta get rid of this.” My throat heavy with unspoken anger, I pulled my resting cock out of her and stood up on the side of the bed.
She gave me a light nod and turned her body to the side.
Inside the bathroom, I tore the used condom off and threw it furiously inside the trash bin by the side of the door. I hadn’t felt this pissed off in such a long time. After washing my hands, I grabbed a small towel to clean her with. Even when I was mad at her, I still cared about her well-being. She’d probably go to sleep sticky with our combined lust because she was tired. I’d often cleaned her up after a marathon sex sesssion.
Treading quietly back to our room, I’d guessed right. She was now sleeping on top of two pillows and her naked body was on full display. I walked to the side of the bed and gently wiped the area between her legs with the wash towel. Turning her over so I could clean her better, she let out a soft snore indicating that she was extremely exhausted. I went back to the bathroom to grab a dry towel and five pieces of toilet paper.
Grabbing her red cotton boy shorts from the drawer where I stored all of her stuff – stuff that she’d forgotten to take with her when she’d left, I lifted her legs one at a time, careful not to wake her, so she could be clothed in her underwear. While I loved for her to be naked at all times, she liked to wear panties and a shirt in bed. Just as I was about to adjust her fresh underwear so it would not be creating a wedgy between her ass cheeks, I caught a glimpse of the 4-inch scar just below her stomach, just above her pantyline.
It had healed wonderfully. When the doctors stitched her after her C-section, it looked like a red, angry line. Now it was barely noticeable.
I traced the pattern lightly with my finger and tenderly pressed on it.
This was proof that once upon a time she became the mother of my child, our child.
I gave her wings, Nales, so she could fly.
One day I hoped Nalee would find her wings again, so she could fly. Straight home. Back to me.
“Mmm…that smells so good.” Her breathy voice woke me up in the best possible way as I whisked the eggs and the flour in the red mixing bowl.
I’d been awake since six o’ clock, answering e-mails by the bed, and checking on her. Mostly checking on her, slapping my eyes once in a while, unable to believe that she was really back on our bed.
I’d stared at her hundreds of times when she was sleeping. Creepy much? Yeah, whatever.
I liked to count the freckles on her arms and shoulders. Nalee was naturally tanned so her freckles were darker, almost pink, some looked light brown against her skin. Coming from a mixed background – her mom was Swiss and Korean and her dad was American Indian, people were often curious as to what she was. I get that she looked exotic and people were often curious about her ethnicity, but one time I almost clocked a guy because he was extremely rude and obnoxious. Nalee, John, and I, along with a few other friends, were attending the annual fundraiser to renovate old frat houses when one of our frat’s new inductees had asked if Nalee was a half-breed because he couldn’t tell what she was. Who the fuck asked those types of questions? John had restrained me from packing in the punches, but I’d talked with my good friend, Bart, Tau Omega’s president, so the fucktard would get his due. Last I’d heard, fuckstick was on bathroom and kitchen duties for six months.
Glancing at Nalee, she looked relaxed and at home. Her face w
as scrubbed free of makeup and her short hair was pinned up on the sides with Hello Kitty hairpins. She’d found the pink container where I’d kept all of her elastic hair products on top of the bathroom sink.
“What are you making?” she asked as she sat on one of the metal kitchen chairs, lifted her feet and stretched out, occupying another chair. This was Nalee in her naturally peaceful state, one I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Guess.” I smiled as I adjusted myself in my boxers. Catching a glimpse of her smooth legs, I had the urge to feast on her for breakfast, but I wasn’t going to outdo my luck. The fact that she wasn’t running, screaming, or stomping out of my place without a goodbye was way more than I could thank my lucky stars for.
She fiddled with her earlobe and said, “Crepes. Strawberry crepes.”
“Yep. I made my special orange sauce for you, too.” I turned my back from her briefly to tilt the pan with a circular motion so that the batter mixture would spread evenly. I heard her tiny footsteps walking towards the cabinets. The sounds of plates clanging softly against each other brought the familiar whirring to my heart. My place was home when Nalee was here. When she wasn’t it was just a huge amount of space. A majestic space, but still just a space.
“You want coffee or orange juice?” She was now opening the fridge, I knew the minute her eyes landed on her favorite breakfast drink – a disgusting blend of apple, carrot, and some green shit, because she gasped as she raised the plastic bottle. “Xavier, why do you have this here?”
“For you,” I answered simply. “No one drinks that nutritious stuff except you, sweetheart.”
“But this has an expiration date and it looks like you just got this one,” she commented while bringing the puke-colored drink to the table and pouring herself a stiff glass. Stiff because a person’s stomach needed to be stiff to tolerate that shit. I’m pretty healthy, but there were some things my taste buds did not appreciate, one of them being what was going down Nalee’s throat right now.