And She Knew This

The next morning, when I woke up, the house was silent. Cold. The air conditioning was on, high. But that was good, I guess, because it was terribly hot outside. I could tell. There was a single ray from the sun beaming down on my leg through a crack in the Venetian blinds, and it tanned my skin. I got out of bed and went straight across the hall the bathroom. My pants were still on the floor. I put them back on, and I took the rest of our clothes back into the guest room.

I checked in to see if the baby was still sleeping. But the crib was empty. I wondered if Monica had to go to work. If she did, she could have left Xander with me. But, then again, no... she couldn’t have. I didn’t know anything about taking care of babies. Especially infants. I’d only mess around and break him or taint him. Even if he’s too young to be tainted, I knew that if left alone with me for the first time, I’d find some way to mess the kid’s mind up, unintentionally of course.

I went into the kitchen to get something to eat. I was starved. There was one slice of pizza left, I could heat that up. And it would hold me, at least until I could figure out how to cook whatever it was that Monica’s father kept in his kitchen. Talk about healthy shit.

I opened the pizza box and there was a note inside.

“I know you love burgers, there’s some ground beef in the fridge. I know this one slice won’t satisfy you, so help yourself. I’m taking Xander to the sitter, then I gotta go to work. But I’ll be home by about 1:30, and I have a surprise for you.

I love you.”

I smiled. She was so sweet. I looked at the clock. 1:45. And then I heard the door open. She came lumbering into the kitchen, two paper bags full of groceries in her arms.

“There’s more by the door, would you help me?” I took the bags from her arms. Then I went to the door and got the rest. When I reached the kitchen again, she was sitting on the counter, holding a glass under the faucet for water.

I was putting the food away when I felt some water on my bare back. She was dipping her slender little fingers in it and sprinkling it at me. I turned to look at her, in all of her innocence, and all of her playfulness. She tilted the glass downward, and the water spilled over the edge onto her chest, down her stomach, and settled in her lap. Her shirt was soaked. And I could see through it now.

I went over to her and lifted her shirt over her head. Her bra was one of those sheer ones, and I could see through it. I kissed her nipples through the material. And she moaned, I loved that so much. She unhooked her bra from the back, with just one hand, and I loved that as well. Then she let the bra fall off of her shoulders. I touched her, and her skin felt so soft against my palm. I had this overwhelming urge to protect her. To hold her tight and never let her go, and keep her away from all things bad in the world.

But right now, right now all she needed from me was love. Physical just as much as emotional.

I leaned in a kissed her collarbone. Then the hollow just above. These were the exact places she’d dabbed her perfume hours before. And it lightly drifted up my nose, causing me to breathe in more deeply. I missed her smell just that much. I went lower and took one of her nipples into my mouth. So delicate. Though my hunger for sex was strong, I couldn’t let her know how very horny I was. If I was ever to be a good lover to her again, I needed to remind her of how she came first. And if prolonging the time before actual intercourse just to tease her perfect little nipples meant making her happy, than I could hold off sex forever.

I drew circles around it with my tongue, flicked it, nibbled it, anything to get a new rise out of her. And when I felt her legs tightening around me, I knew I should go to the next nipple and start her pleasurable torture all over again. To smell her, taste her, and hold her that way was messing with my mind. It was like I was seeing things. Not specific things. More like flying colors. It was all so strange to me. But I loved it. I loved being in love. I loved sharing moments like these with Monica.

She pushed me away, but playfully, like she was teasing or toying with me or something. I played along. I stepped back. Watched for what she was about to do. She reached down into one of the bags, pulled out a very familiar box. Trojans. My best friends when it came to my Monica. She tapped them against her thigh and licked her cute, puffy little lips.

She went right by me, into the hallway, and then into the guestroom where we almost got into mischief the night before. When I turned the corner and entered the room, she was already undressed. Slowly. Damn. She looked so inviting. So soft. And looking at her was sending electric pulses through my body. I had to rub my crotch just to keep from ripping through my clothes.

She stretched out on the bed. She stared me down. I was putty in her hands then. But, if I think about it, I had been putty in her hands since the very first time she even smiled at me.

I closed the door. I’m not even really sure why. I think it was because an open door seemed unsafe. Maybe it was just the child in me shining through. After all, that’s all I really was. Just eighteen. Trying to do right with myself. Struggling to be responsible. Learning to be a father, and a good significant other to Monica at the same time. But, right then, and she opened herself up to me, all I could think about was lying down with her. Making love to her. Screwing her brains out. Hell, forget that, getting MY brains screwed out.

I pushed my jeans down, YES, freedom! I absolutely hated wearing clothes when I was hard. The pain was unbearable. Unbearable like an itch in a place you just can’t get to. I stretched out next to her. And I kissed her. I nuzzled her neck. And I reveled in the feel of her satin-like skin against mine.

She opened one of the condoms, and my whole body tensed up. The place was so silent. And all I could hear was her breathing, my breathing, our bodies moving quietly on the sheets, and the wrapper of the condom being torn and cast aside.

She ran her delicate fingers down the center of my chest, my stomach, and the part of me most affected by her gentle touches. And she kissed me there. How I missed that! I began to contradict myself as she slid her tongue along the length of it; I called out to God, then I mumbled every four-letter word to my knowledge. It was so naughty, yet so right.

She only gave me a sample of the intense experience she was about to guide me through, because she cut her actions short and rolled the condom down on my erection. I rolled her over onto her back and spread her legs. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She wanted this just as much as I did, if not more.

I pushed my hips forward, and I found my way into her warm body automatically. She was more loose than when we last made love. But I didn’t feel intimidated. I knew why. Her body had undergone drastic changes since carrying Xander. She was both a woman and a mother now. And she would never be the same. But I didn’t care. She still felt like home to me.

I pushed forward as much as I could, just until I felt her muscles tighten and her nails dig into my arms. And I stay there, in that one position, and she just knew. She knew all that I was thinking. She knew all that I was feeling. I loved her so much. And I wanted this so much. But I was so afraid. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes again. I didn’t want our love to bring another baby into this world. It was already going to be hard as it was. Some small part of me wanted to keep her untouched. At least until I made something of myself. Until I made myself someone worthy of her embrace. But as I lie there, on top of her, deep within her, I felt like I didn’t deserve her.

And she knew this.

She held me tighter. She held me so tight; our hearts seemed to beat in unison, harmoniously. And she whispered the most precious words to me.

“I love you,” she said. “I love you and I need you and you’re more than enough for me.” I wanted to break down. I wanted to just cry. And I don’t think admitting to that makes me half of a man. Because only a real man, in my eyes, could feel so strongly about one woman. Women were put in this world for so many reasons. To nurture. To support. To be voices of reason. To counter men’s insanity with common sense and a level of intelligence that no man could ever understand. Even the densest woman in the world knows, in the back of her mind, how to make right whatever is wrong. If women ruled all the nations in the world, I just know that there wouldn’t be so much shit going on. Cause most women, they would care more about the welfare of their people as opposed to their own wealth. Another thing women are good at is making their men feel like kings.

A single man can conquer the world on his own. But it wouldn’t mean shit without a woman to love him and make it all worth it. And I don’t care what the circumstances. Even gay men need female friends in their lives. No matter what they say, there is no man out there that can do as much emotionally for another man as a woman can. And that’s what she meant to me. She was my backbone, my heart, my soul. And I knew it then. Even if I had thoughts of it before, I was certain now. There was no one else who could make me feel like Monica was making me feel just then.

And there I was, holding Monica in the most intimate and loving embrace. Pulling out of her, then back in again. And again. And again. And again. And I was hearing such beautiful music in my head. And the instruments making this music were no ordinary instruments. Her moans, her pants, her screams, and mine, the sheets rustling, our wet kisses, and not to mention that wonderful sound of penetration. Good sex! Earth-shaking sex! Like fire, but with cool chills! The best sex ever!

My fingers and toes tingled. And the tingling sensation traveled, up my legs and arms, hips and shoulders, all through my stomach, and right through the part of me deep inside of her. And I came then. I came so hard that my entire body went through a spasm. Muscles tightened, my mind went blank. I can’t be sure, but I’m willing to bet that my eyes rolled back into my head. I hadn’t had sex with Monica in so long, and this was what my body had been yearning for. For months my body called for this.

I had nothing left. So I just lie there. Motionless. Breathing so heavy that my ribs protruded and pressed into hers. I usually kept going, just to make sure that Monica was more than satisfied. But not this time. I couldn’t even if I tried. I was truly spent. Bankrupt. Absolutely nothing. Empty. And she knew this. I felt her arms embrace me so gently. As if I were an infant in her arms. She rubbed my sweaty back. She drew an imaginary line up the center, between my shoulder blades. She ran her fingers through my damp hair. She kissed my forehead. Her legs tangled with mine as I rested there on top of her, still inside of her. And there was no where else I wanted to be.

I felt her toes slide up my calves, settled in the insides of my knees, and then slide back down to my ankles. And as she did all of these things, all of these loving gestures, she was humming. I don’t know what song. Maybe she made it up. Or maybe I was too high on adrenaline to really think straight and figure it out. But it was soothing. How I missed her voice.

And I fell asleep there, nestled between her soft breasts, wishing I could stay there forever. I loved her so much. I love her with that same intensity to this very day. But it was then that my love for her took over my heart. And she knew this.


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