These Are My Confessions

by Robinson, Cheryl; Smith, Meta; King, Joy; Parks, Electa Rome

  For thirty minutes, yes thirty minutes, Drake took me to heaven with his oral pleasure. When he added his fingers to the equation, I thought I’d go out of my freaking mind. Added to the surrealness and excitement was the fact that there was an entire floor of associates and managers, just on the other side of that door, just beyond his closed door, and they had no idea what was going on.

  Later, Drake had me wide open, sprawled across his desk, on my back, with my private parts and breasts exposed, in full view for the world to see. At one point I thought I’d die of fright and embarrassment. There was a soft knock at his door, his secretary. I froze. Drake was cool and actually kept pushing his three fingers in and out of my womanhood. Ever so slowly. In and out. Deeper. Slowly.

  “Yes?” He pushed in.

  “Mr. Collins, I wanted to remind you that I’m leaving early today.”

  “See you Monday. Have a great weekend, Brenda.” He pulled out. His fingers were glistering with my wetness.

  “You too.”

  “I will,” he said, inserting another finger, now four. He had me moving up and down to his finger motion as he took me to yet another orgasm while he coaxed me through.

  “Yeah. That’s it. Let yourself go. That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Tell me you love the way I make your pussy feel.”

  I lay back against the desktop, half on, half off, totally exhausted. Waiting for my breathing to return to normal. My chest rapidly heaving up and down.

  “Tell me,” he whispered near my ear. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” His warm breath tickled my ear. I shivered in anticipation over his skillful fingers.

  “I love the way you make me feel,” I said in a monotone voice.

  Drake laughed and said, “I know you do. You are so wet right now. Dripping. You enjoy me eating your pussy? Don’t you?”

  I remained silent. His fingers were still inside me, moving, teasing me.

  “Let me hear you say pussy.”

  “Nooo,” I squeeched.

  “Come on,” he said, moving his fingers around a bit, exploring. Opening me up.

  As another spasm shook my body, I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “Just say, ‘I want you to eat my pussy again, Drake,’ and I’ll leave you alone.”

  He leaned in closer. Whispered in my ear, “Say, ‘Shove your tongue up my wet pussy and make me come.’”

  I couldn’t say it. He laughed and pulled out his fingers. He held up his index finger, showing it to me, which was drenched with my wetness.

  “I bet you’ve never tasted yourself either, have you?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. “Come here,” he stated, guiding his finger into my mouth before I could protest. “Lick it off.” His eyes held mine. Waiting on me to comply.

  I didn’t move.

  Drake pushed his fingers back inside me and pulled out. “Lick it off, Kennedy.”

  He gently opened my mouth with his fingers, and I did what he told me. I proceeded to taste myself.

  “That’s right. Get it all,” he demanded, using his free hand to play with my pussy some more, gently squeezing my clit.

  “I’m going to enjoy turning you out,” he whispered as he caressed my face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, baby. Nothing.”

  With a big smile on my face, I left his office fifteen minutes later. Drake had my phone number, home address, and confirmation for a date on Saturday evening.

  Lustful Ways…

  Dear Journal,

  After Drake turned me out orally, it was on. My body had never felt that way before. And we hadn’t even had actual sexual intercourse. Imagine that. Yes, I was already whipped. You see, I’m one of those unfortunate women who doesn’t have orgasms easily. Sure, I’ve had small ones before, with a lot of hard work on my partner’s part, but never the mind blowing, earth-shattering ones that I hear women talk about all the time.

  According to Taylor, she is multiorgasmic and she’ll have orgasm on top of orgasm if a man so much as blows in her right ear. It has to be her right ear, not her left one. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating, but she doesn’t have a problem. If I can have just one, I am doing great.

  When I came in Drake’s office chair from just his mouth and fingers, I was like “Damn!” I jumped at the chance to see him over the weekend and find out more about this exciting, mysterious, and sexy man.

  Our first date was beyond unbelievable. I felt like Cinderella at the ball with her black prince charming in tow. If I didn’t think I was in lust with the man before, by the end of our first date, I knew I definitely was seeing stars and hearing sweet violins playing our song; I was sprung. A night out on the town turned into a two-day date. That was one thing I would learn about Drake, he never did anything halfway. He did everything in a big, dramatic way. Drake was very passionate about everything: his career, his hobbies, his woman.

  I thought we were simply going out to the movies and then dinner. Therefore, I dressed in a nice but casual dress and heels. We ended up going to an early dinner out in Buckhead, catching a play at the Fox Theater, and capping the night off by going for a horse and carriage ride through Midtown. It was magical. It was perfect. And then to top off all that excitement and my natural high, Drake had reserved a room for us at the Georgian Terrace Hotel, directly across from the theater. I was totally speechless.

  I simply adored this man who was able to so easily take control of any given situation. Drake was a man who took charge, and that excited me in the beginning. I noticed the envious looks women gave me when I went out with him. I didn’t care, Drake was my man. And I was his woman…or so I thought.

  Our room came complete with a Jacuzzi, king-size bed, colorful flowers, expensive champagne, and a great view of the city. Drake didn’t forget anything; he attended to the smallest of details. That was impressive. Of course, I hadn’t packed an overnight bag, but he came prepared. The man was amazing. He had secretly packed a small suitcase for both of us that he had hidden in the trunk of his car. He bought a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other essentials for me. He even purchased a sexy purple teddy, his favorite color, for me to sleep in. Not that it stayed on very long.

  That night, Drake and I ordered room service after deciding to have a midnight snack of assorted cheese and crackers, and we sipped on chilled champagne. Drake gave what I thought was a heartfelt toast to having me in his life. Afterward, he didn’t rush to get me in bed or attempt to get intimate with me. We actually cuddled on the cozy bed and talked. With my head on his stomach, I learned quite a bit about his upbringing.

  Drake had been given a lot on a silver platter. Don’t get me wrong. He worked hard for everything he received, but his parents owned a sports apparel manufacturing plant in Los Angeles. Money wasn’t an issue for them. He grew up with his mother, father, and a brother. He attended private schools, excelled academically and in sports, and dated girls from affluent families. His family even owned a summer home. After graduating from an Ivy League college and working for the family-owned business for a few years, he wanted to branch out on his own for a change. Be his own man. Test his wings. He’d heard so much about the A-T-L that it was his first choice.

  Literally, as the sun was rising over the city, he made the most delicious, sweetest love. Slow and easy. I felt Drake down to my soul. He made me understand and appreciate the meaning of feeling like a woman. With every touch, I grew to crave him. He made love to my entire body, mind, and soul. Drake didn’t rush; he reveled in loving and caressing every inch of me. He asked what felt good. He watched to gauge my reaction to things he did to me. Drake wanted to possess me. I wanted him to love me. And love and possession don’t mix…

  By Saturday morning we were so tired that we slept, wrapped in each other’s arms, until almost noon. I never imagined being so safe and protected. After I woke up to tender kisses, we made love two more times, took our showers, and had a light lunch in one of the restaurants downstairs. The salmon salad with iced tea was excell
ent. After checkout, we weren’t ready to part company, so we rode out to Lenox Mall and shopped for a couple of hours. We giggled, held hands, and French kissed like two teenagers. Drake bought me a gorgeous Coach bag. It didn’t matter that the price tag was almost $750; he didn’t bat an eye at the price. When he declared that he had to have his woman dressed to the nines, I beamed because I knew he was claiming me as his woman. He had already claimed and tamed my pussy.

  Yeah, that was the best date ever! It was perfect. Unfortunately, Drake wasn’t. Not by a long shot. However, it took months for me to discover that tidbit of information. That revelation would have saved me so much heartache and pain. Looking back, the signs were there. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty.

  Before the Storm…

  Dear Journal,

  “Kennedy, I could stay like this forever,” Drake whispered, leaning down and kissing me on the forehead. His body was warm and solid. I felt protected, secure, and wanted.

  “Me too,” I barely answered with closed eyes. I was still coming off my high. We had made love and I was relishing the moments before the sweetness fled into the darkness and cover of night. Candlelight flickered off the walls in my bedroom, creating strange shadows in their wake. And there was a strong and strange mixture of berries and sex that clung to the air.

  Drake was slowly tracing his fingers up and down my arm. Each touch sent shivers throughout my being. And lying, wrapped in his arms, I felt happy.

  “How you feeling?” he asked.

  “Great, babe, as always. You?”

  “Satisfied.”

  “I love you, babe.”

  “Ditto.”

  “Ditto? What does that mean?”

  “You’re special to me. You know that, Kennedy.” Still tracing patterns on my arm.

  “Special?” I questioned with a pout.

  “I’ve dated a lot of women in my past, but you—you are, by a long shot, different and very special.”

  “How many are a lot of women?” I asked jokingly, but curious at the same time. I rose up on one elbow so I could see his face.

  “Oh, come on, Kennedy, I’ve told you of my past. I’ve never had a problem meeting women. Women are always throwing themselves and their pussy at me. You are with me now. So, it doesn’t matter how many,” he said, slightly agitated. The candlelight cast dark, contorted shadows across his face.

  “You’re right, babe,” I crooned, relaxing back into his arms.

  “Wait a minute. Different? Is that good or bad?” I laughed, pulling myself up to look into his eyes again. Drake had the sexiest eyes. A woman could get lost in them, and before she knew it, she could simply drown. Sometimes I felt like I was drowning in his presence. I couldn’t breathe or catch my breath.

  “Baby, of course, different in a good way. It couldn’t possibly be in a bad way.”

  “How am I different, babe?”

  “You really want to know?” he asked, absently cupping my breast in his hand.

  “Yes. I really want to know,” I laughed on a natural high. The moment was perfect. A light rain had started to fall outside, and my apartment was warm and cozy on the inside.

  “Well, for one, you don’t try to be the man.”

  “What?” I laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “You know what I mean. There are so many women who are kidding themselves and thinking that they can do it all, have it all, all without a man.”

  “What is wrong with that?”

  “Baby, a man wants his woman to need him. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s not wanted or appreciated or needed. There can only be one leader in a relationship. The man.”

  “I see.” I was hearing this theory for the first time.

  “Women in Atlanta are notorious for that type of bullshit, feminist attitude. I don’t need a man; a man can’t do anything for me that I can’t do myself…Bullshit! Then why are they at the club with a dress on two sizes too small showing all their ass, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination? Why are they always in search of some dick? Answer that. Well, you aren’t like that.”

  “Are you saying I’m not independent?”

  “No, baby. I’m saying you act like a woman. You are content with letting me be your man. Your girl Taylor could learn from you too.”

  “What? How did Taylor get brought into this conversation?”

  “I don’t care for Taylor, and it’s obvious that she doesn’t care for me either. Taylor thinks her shit don’t stink.”

  “I wish the two of you would try to get along. She’s my best friend and you’re my man. I don’t want to be caught in the middle.”

  “I don’t like her putting crazy ideas into your pretty head. I like the way things have gone with us these last few months, and I just don’t want anyone to destroy that.”

  “Oh really now?” I said as Drake planted a kiss, then another, on my neck. He knew that was one of my weak spots. The meltdown began.

  “Definitely. I like how you let me order for you in restaurants, how you accept my advice and opinions, surrender to me in the bedroom.”

  “Do you?” I asked while he traced a line up my arm.

  “Yes, Miss Logan, I do.” He tweaked a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I moaned loudly.

  “And a woman shouldn’t be vocal and proactive in achieving her goals?”

  “I’m not saying that. I’m simply stating that a real woman should make an effort to please her man and take care of his needs. If I tell you to get down on your knees and suck my dick, I expect you to do it. No questions asked. Again, there can only be one leader in a relationship. That’s why Taylor can’t keep a man; she thinks she’s one.”

  “You are sounding like a male chauvinist, babe.”

  For a moment this angry look crossed Drake’s face, and just as quickly disappeared. Then he broke into a huge, mischievous grin. He reached for me.

  “Call it what you want, now come here and surrender to me again,” he said as his hand found the warm place between my legs. “Dance for me.”

  “What? Dance for you? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Don’t I look serious? Stand up and do a strip tease for your man.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, just a small one,” he said, tugging on my arm to pull me into a standing position.

  “I don’t know,” I said, pulling the sheet tighter around me.

  “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do.”

  “Well then, do this for me. Kennedy, it’s just you and me here. We are behind closed doors, and I thought you were my woman.”

  “Okay, but just a little one,” I said, motioning with my fingers.

  “Just a little one, then,” Drake stated, assaulting my neck with kisses.

  I hesitated.

  “Okay, let’s see what you got,” he said, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back against his pillow, waiting for the show.

  I shyly released the sheet and stood up in all my glory. Slowly, I started moving around, doing a belly dancer type routine. Drake was taking it all in.

  “That’s it. Lower your hands so I can see those gorgeous tatas. You know I’m a breast man.”

  I continued to dance as I slowly lowered my hands, then raised them above my head, twirling my fingers in midair.

  “Yeah. Nice. Show me my titties. Turn around, slowly. Tease me…Not too fast. Now, touch yourself for me, baby.”

  “What?”

  “Touch yourself. Play with your breasts and nipples. Real slow. We got all night.”

  I paused for just a moment. Drake’s lust-filled eyes never left mine.

  “Yeah, squeeze your nipple. A little harder. The other one. Harder. Make ’em stand at attention for me. Salute me.”

  “Drake?”

  “Shhh, you’re doing great. Now, keep one hand on your breast and move your other hand down between your thighs.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. Right now, you are
sexy as hell. You got my dick hard as bricks…That’s right. Don’t stop; touch yourself. Stick two of your fingers in. Deeper. Pull ’em out. Back in. In. Out.