“Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine me as anyone’s wife. I’ve never considered myself marriage material, and the fact that we’re sitting here talking about this less than twenty-four hours after we met is crazy.”
He flashed that pretty-ass smile at me. “Life is crazy.”
“True.”
“So what do you think?”
“What do I think? I mean, you’re not proposing or anything now, so I guess we’ll just see what’s what.”
Black ran his fingers through my hair. “What if I am proposing now?”
Let’s just say that I sobered up real quick!“Black, we just met.”
“So? I know what I want, and I wanted to ask you before we had sex because I don’t even want you to think it’s about that. From the second I saw you sitting at that bar, I knew you were the one.”
He was dead serious. I was shocked. I sat up straight and looked down at him. He was incredibly fine and seemed nice enough, but marriage?
“How could you know I was the one that fast?” I asked. “How can you even know I’m the one now?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I just know these things. When I was a little boy, I used to dream about the type of woman I would marry. I could see her so clearly, and guess what? She looked exactly like you.”
“This is insane!” I exclaimed, expressing my thoughts out loud.
“What’s so insane about it, Tenage?”
We sat in silence for a moment while I attempted to come up with an answer.
Finally, I said something that even stunned me. “Sure, I’ll marry you.”
He chuckled. “Say what?”
“I said, I’ll marry you. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, we’ll move on.”
Black took my hand and started sucking my fingers one by one. “Tenage, I promise you’ll never regret this.”
I nervously laughed. “Let’s hope not.”
Black jumped up from the blanket and snatched up his pants. “Get dressed!”
“Get dressed? I thought we were about to have sex?”
“Not until after we’re married.”
“What?”
“It’s still early. We can go find a justice of the peace and get hitched tonight.”
“Whoa,” I lashed out at him. “This is moving just a little too fast for me.”
“Come on, Tenage. Live a little. What else did you have planned for tonight?”
As I watched Black get dressed, all kinds of shit ran through my mind. I would have to be insane to go and marry the man. Then again, what if he was the man of my dreams and I missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime?
Lawd, what a day! What a day! We were married less than two hours later in a little cottage by a justice. Just like in the old movies, his wife played the piano, and his housekeeper and gardener stood in as our witnesses.
Black wanted to go get a hotel room to consummate our marriage, but I insisted on going back to the beach. I wanted to finish what we started.
He methodically licked every inch of my body and ended up with his head buried between my legs. He hooked my legs over his shoulders and sat up on his knees. That left only my shoulders and head resting on the sand. I had never had a man eat me out like that before and I came within a couple of minutes the first time. We made love all night on the sand. Black worked me over in a major way, and I tried to match his generosity.
After he was done with me, I did him, but I wanted to do him in the water. We went down to the water’s edge and walked just enough into the waves to cover our thighs. I took him into my mouth and relaxed my throat until I could get him all the way in. His dick was sweet because of the fruit salad we had eaten earlier.
I stuck a finger in his ass while I was sucking him off. He flinched at first but then let me continue to move it in and out. He came in my mouth, and the warm liquid lined my belly. Then he scooped me up in his arms, and we had sex standing up in the water. With my legs wrapped around him, he held onto my ass cheeks and worked his dick inside me. Yes, I loved this man I had just met. Yes, I loved my husband.
I arched my back until the waves teased the ends of my long hair. Black sucked on my breasts, and that made the experience even more delightful.
“Let me down,” I instructed him. “I want to get on my knees.”
After I got on my knees in the water, Black entered me from behind, and for anyone that has ever done water aerobics, you know that the added pressure made the dick seem even bigger and more powerful. Black grabbed my ass cheeks, spread them, and played with my anus with his fingers.
“Do you want it there, Tenage?” he asked. “Tell me how you want it.”
It had been years since I had anal sex, and I hated it the first time, but life is crazy, so I answered, “Yes, I want it there, baby.”
Black took my ass that night, and it was ten times better than the first time. I think it was because he was so much more of a considerate lover. The blazing sun woke us up the next morning. I heard a dog barking in the distance, which immediately made me nervous. What if someone was coming?
“I think we should go,” I told Black.
He yawned and looked at me lovingly. “We have so much to discuss.”
“Well, we probably need to discuss it someplace else,” I said jokingly. “Someone might find us soon.”
“Okay, we can leave.”
We got dressed in silence, gathered everything, and got in his SUV. As we were driving off, I felt compelled to ask, “Do you have any regrets?”
He took my hand and kissed it. “Not a one. Where are we headed? Your place or mine?”
I laughed. “That’s a damn good question, and you’re right. We have a ton of things to discuss, like where we’re going to live, do we want kids, how many vacations to take a year—”
“Tenage, all of that will work itself out. I promise.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Somehow, I believe you.”
Peaches
* * *
I greet you at the door after a long, hard day at work. I know you are exhausted because you called a couple hours before you arrived, telling me how stressful the day had been for you. I want to do something very special for you, Boo, so I decide to pamper you and fulfill your every wish.
I open the door, and you are startled to see me in a black French maid’s outfit, black fishnet stockings, and black stiletto heels. I hand you a glass of chilled Chablis and take your coat. You look so debonair in your business suit, I almost hate to see you take it off, but I know that your birthday suit is so much more thought-provoking.
I lead you to the bedroom and proceed to help you undress, doing it very slowly and gazing deep into your captivating bedroom eyes. I bite my bottom lip as I remove your pants and silk boxers, feeling my desire for you grow and my pussy beginning to cause a slight dampness in the crotch of my white satin panties.
Once you are completely unclad, I take you by the hand and walk into the master bathroom, where your bath awaits you. I know how much you love peaches. So I have the whirlpool tub filled up not with water, but with thick cream and hundreds of peach slices in heavy syrup. You are amazed to see the high-pressured spigots swirling the peaches around in the cream.
I have the entire bathroom counter and part of the floor covered with scented candles that also smell like peaches and cream. The bath is only the beginning of my peaches theme for the evening.
I ask you to step into the tub and proceed to wash your entire body with a huge loofah sponge, starting with your back and shoulders. Then I move on to your arms and chest. I reach my hand into the cream and wash your legs, your dick, your balls, and then your feet. As I am bathing you, I tell you all the things I love and admire about you, how my love for you is unconditional, and how everything from the way you walk to the way you cum turns me on. Your dick is so hard.
After I am sure you are relaxed and feeling tingly all over, I have you get out of the tub and dry you off with a fresh, thick bath towel. I hel
p you slip into a nice, comfy terry cloth robe I had embroidered with your initials. As we go into the dining room, where I have a feast prepared for my Nubian king, soft jazz music plays in the background.
I have prepared you some lobster, wild rice, string beans amandine, and buttery hot biscuits. The dining room has peaches-and-cream-scented candles scattered all around it. I put a bib on you, one with a picture of a lobster on it, and straddle your lap, facing you. I begin to feed you slowly, dipping the succulent lobster into some hot butter and lapping up any that trickles on your chin. While I am feeding you, I recite erotic poetry and feel your dick pulsating between my legs.
Once I have fed you the main course, I disappear into the kitchen just long enough to retrieve the two jars I picked up at the country market up the street. One is filled with peaches in heavy syrup, and the other one is filled with peach preserves. I open the jar of peaches, and then I begin to undress slowly and seductively for you.
I take you by the hand and lead you to the other end of the table, which has no food or dishes on it, only a huge silver platter. I motion for you to sit down in the chair, and you comply. I take the jar of peaches and get up on the platter. Starting at the top of my breasts, I pour the cool mixture all over my body. It makes my skin tingle.
I lean back on my elbows and clasp my legs around your neck, using my ankles to pull your head forward between my thighs. You show your appreciation for the dessert I have enticed you with by consuming all of it, one peach at a time. The thick syrup is dripping all over my body, trickling down my inner thighs onto the platter. You take your time with me, eating and sucking and licking all of it off my body.
Then you stand up and disrobe. You make mad, passionate love to me right there, with my pussy on the silver platter. I dig my fingernails into your chest, overcome as I am by feeling the man I love more than life itself deep inside me. Our two bodies fuse together from the body-generated heat. Our bodies both spasm in unison as we cum. I begin to cry because the love you give to me is so overbearing and so intense.
We retire to our bedroom, taking the jar of peach preserves with us. I spread it all over your body from head to toe and, starting with your temples, give you a tongue bath, licking every inch of you. I lick everything from your ears to your armpits, from your chest to your ass, from your dick to your toes, all of you. Then I get some scented body oil, the kind that gets hot when you blow on it, and give you a full-body massage.
By now you are so relaxed and sexually satisfied that you’ve forgetten about your hard day at work. I prop myself up on a pillow beside you and let you fall asleep in your favorite position, with my arms around you and one of my tender breasts in your mouth. I listen to you snore for a while and watch your chest go up and down as you breathe. Then I fall asleep also, dreaming of peaches and my boo.
The Subway—A Quickie
* * *
It is late at night, and we are returning from a show downtown. We are on the subway, and there are just a few passengers scattered about. We hug and kiss, but no one pays us any attention, and soon we begin to get hot and heavy. You slide your hand under my blouse and begin to caress my breasts. My hand slides up your thigh and grabs at your dick.
I have on a short skirt, and your other hand begins to slide up my thigh. Soon your hand is all the way up to my pussy, and you begin to slide my panties to the side. I push your hand away and continue to kiss you; your dick is as hard as steel. I continue to rub it and then unzip your pants. You try to slide your finger behind my panties again, and I don’t stop you this time; soon your finger is buried in my wetness.
Your dick is out of your pants now, and we get more heated as I stroke it and hump my hips back and forth on your finger. Then I lean down and take the head of your dick into my mouth and begin to suck on it, licking all around the head and down the shaft. You moan softly and hold the back of my head, caressing my hair with your fingertips.
I stop and begin to slide my panties down and off. Afterward, I hold them to your face. You smell the sweet aroma of my pussy as I now face you and straddle you. We find that this is uncomfortable, so I turn around with my back to you. Slowly, I let your dick part the lips of my hot pussy as I climb on top of it. Gently, you grab my buttocks and help me go up and down on the shaft.
I put my hands on your knees for leverage and get into a rhythmic motion as you push your manhood deeper and deeper into my paradise. You let go of my hips, reach in front of me, and start pinching my nipples. I start to tremble, and my excitement is uncontrollable. I look around the subway and realize that now people are watching, but neither one of us care.
I start riding your dick harder and harder, and I can feel myself climaxing at top speed as the subway train rattles along the tracks in the dark tunnel. I climax with an explosion, and you tell me you are cumming. I slowly climb off your dick, turn around, and begin jacking it off with my hand. I rub it harder and harder until you can’t hold it anymore, and you explode.
We look at each other and laugh, realizing what we have just done. The few passengers left on the train start applauding us and yelling approving remarks. Quickly, we replace all our loose clothing, still gasping for air. As we get off the train at the next stop, you gather my panties from the floor—the one item I forgot to replace—and tie them onto the post of the seat where we made love, marking the spot of our transgression. Giggling and holding hands, we sneak briskly off into the night. Now that’s what I call a quickie!
Under the Mistletoe
* * *
It’s Christmas Eve, and we’ve just returned home from the burn unit of the inner-city hospital where we portray Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus every year. We both have a great love of children. We don’t have any of our own yet, but it would be a crime for us not to in due time. While we wait for the stork to deliver us a baby, we enjoy donating time to “special” children like the ones at the hospital. Seeing their faces light up, even when their little bodies are in so much pain, is a joyous feeling.
Part of the reason I married you is because of your compassion and empathy for others. It’s a trait we share along with our love of travel, books, and the art of making love. I love everything about you, from the way you laugh to the way you rub your eyes like a little boy when they’re tired. Which is what you are doing right now, rubbing your eyes.
I go into the kitchen to get the gingerbread cookies and put on a huge kettle of water so I can make several cups of apple cider. You stay in the living room and start a fire. Our mantel is decorated with garlands and red bows and has three stockings hung from it—one for you, one for me, and one for Subzero, our Dalmatian, who is somewhere snuggled up in a corner of the house.
The tray of cups of cider is ready, so I ask you to carry it outside to the front porch. I follow behind you with gingerbread cookies in hand and a basket of candy canes hung on my arm. We get outside just in time to see the Christmas carolers making footprints through the blanket of snow toward our house, coming from the McKenzies, our neighbors, who always give them shiny new silver dollars every season. It is a tradition in our neighborhood that we hold dear.
We make sure the walkway is shoveled and clear before the serenading begins. The carolers arrive, holding songbooks in their precious little mitten-covered hands. They’re too cute for words. The smallest children are distracted from their singing, more intrigued by the way we’re dressed up. You’re in your fluffy red Santa suit, a silver wig and beard, black military boots, eyeglasses pushed down onto the tip of your nose, and a Santa hat. I’m in an old-fashioned ankle-length red dress covered with a long white cotton apron, black pilgrim shoes, silver wig, and white cotton bonnet.
We stand there overlooking the porch banister and watching them sing their little hearts out as the adult chaperones and parents look on. When they’re done, we applaud them and then descend the steps so we can pass out the goodies we have for them. All the children are well mannered, saying, “Thank you, ma’am,” and, “Thank you, sir.” We stand th
ere, with your arm around the small of my waist, waving to them as they walk away sipping on the warm cider and munching on the cookies.
We get back inside the house and you start to take off the Santa outfit. I stop there and ask you to wait a second. I hurry to the upstairs closet to get our camera, put it up on the entertainment center, and set the timer. Then I hurry into your arms so we can take a Christmas photo together. We can use the photos on the Christmas cards we send out next year to our friends and family.
Like a firecracker bursting into a kaleidoscope of light on the Fourth of July, an idea pops into my head. I tell you to have a seat by the fireplace on some floor pillows. You have a bit of trouble sitting down, with all the extra inches from the pillow stuffed in your jacket and thick towels stuffed into your pants legs. After you slowly make it down, I go to the kitchen and get you a stein full of eggnog with rum and bring it to you.
I walk over to the entertainment center and flip through our tower of CDs, searching for our Ebonics Christmas CD, which your friend Dave bought us. It has a bunch of hilarious Christmas rap songs on it, with kicking-ass beats. I locate it, put it in the CD changer, hit play, and then grab the camera. I hand it to you just as the first cut comes on, telling you, “Ooh, Santa, you are so sexy. Can an old woman like me do a little dance for you?”
You laugh, and with the pillow and all, it really looks like you weigh a good three hundred pounds instead of being cut like you really are. You reply, “Dance for me, baby!”
So I do. I shake my ass off in my red dress, lifting up a hemline so you can see my black pilgrim shoes, black fishnet stockings, and puffy, white cotton bloomers with elastic around my center thighs. I look like somebody’s grandmother doing a hoochie dance, with the silver wig on and all.
As the beat goes on, I turn around and undo my white cotton apron, take it off, fling it around in the air, and then toss it toward you on the floor. It lands with a corner snagged on the edge of your glasses. You remove it, throw it beside you, and sip some more eggnog.