The Night My Good-girl Girlfriend Showed Me a Love That Would Have Made Cupid Break his Bow
Every word of the story I will tell you is true because there are things you never forget. Things you couldn’t have invented better, memories that make your breath take a breath. Experiences that make you harder than granite, and your soul swelter like a lava flow.
It was the first time I saw her naked. The first time we had full-on, blow the sheets off the bed and beg for water sex. It was the first time I knew God loved me because He doesn’t give an angel to an ingrate.
It was the first time I considered that I might not be enough for a woman.
She was too pretty to be so bold. After cranking up the temperature on the flirtatious foreplay, she told me to get naked and on the bed — this wasn’t a suggestion.
She was too sweet to step out of the bathroom, completely naked, with the prettiest, perkiest tits I’d ever seen, a slim waist, hips that melted into curves a belly dancer would be jealous of and a strip of hair above a bare pussy with a labium made for kissing.
I’d never seen a woman whose entire body grinned with delight.
I wasn’t sure I was ready. I wasn’t sure I wasn’t a little bit scared.
“Oh my god! Baby!” She squealed with the glee of someone presented with a gift that filled their heart. She bounced on her toes and slapped her hands together, her dainty fingers clapping at the speed of hummingbird wings.
She launched herself from the floor to the bed like a panther springing from its crouch. Her breasts swept across my calves.
Soft. Warm.
Like clouds made of silk and sunshine.
My body was her scratching post, and her nails dug into my flesh; her teeth took bites of me. She giggled. She apologized. She kissed my body a thousand times.
Her small hands spread wide along my thighs, her thumbs dipped down my pelvis, and her fingertips searched for my hips, like she wanted to grab hold of me everywhere at once.
“Now, this is the kind of secret I love to discover!” And then she couldn’t say any more words. Her sexy nose, with that adorable little ledge, a resting place for your gaze before you fell into the bottomless brown of her eyes, pushed down and breathed me up.
Her ass raised, her hips swayed, and she purred.
No, that’s not right — she whimpered.
Then she did something I’d never experienced with a woman in bed — she apologized. “I’m sorry, baby.” Her eyes pleaded forgiveness at mine. “I only have a small mouth, and you have a big cock.”
“I do?” Because we’re never entirely sure about ourselves as men — how we measure up. And we’re always grateful while often bewildered that we’re with a naked woman who wants us.
She poured herself up my body, moving the way syrup spreads over pancakes, an exudation of seduction, nodding her head and smiling. Her rich, shimmering hair of black walnut with shadows of burgundy, perfectly coifed at her approach from the bathroom, now looked like she’d stepped in from a storm, electrically charged and windblown.
Her hips were above mine, her knees touching my bottom ribs, and she moved over me, her body a sheet of Egyptian cotton, floating her essence against the small hairs of my frame. Her nipples like tiny, pink marshmallows skipping along my chest like a ballerina across a stage.
She leaned down and kissed me, our eyes never closing — a delicate sip, a wine tasting, then a full drink. “You have to help me,” she said. “Will you help me?”
Already intoxicated, I nodded.
Her knees pressed into my shoulders, and she brought me to her fountain. I drank until she spilled over my chin. Stretching like a cat, she sent her toes searching for mine, then raised herself, a sculpture of beauty, a fairy of committed lust and lowered herself over my tower.
One hand below to guide me, the other feather-soft fingers falling across my cheek, she told me the truth; “From this moment on, I’m the only woman you’re ever going to fuck.”
I gave my oath with the vows to fall before summer’s longest day.
