They sat on the sofa catching up on old times. They hadn’t seen each other in about three years. Their friendship never diminished, rather life and her mechanization kept them apart. First came Gei, and her commitment to the idea of him, and then ………life.
They changed over time. They are fortunate ones who’ve seen the difference in their lives. While all of the change wasn’t positive, the ability to witness the change is something to applaud.
As she finished the story of the vengeful ex and the aftermath of the “incident” she leaned over and rested her head on his stomach.
Little moments like that are missed in her world. The chance to just be in the space of someone and not being required to do anything. She sighed as they listened to the jazz melody in the background. They were otherwise quiet. Living in a shelter doesn’t usually allow quiet. She sighed again and leaned in more.
His fingers tapped a light percussion on her hip and thigh. The musician in him playing a tune familiar only to him yet increasingly pleasant as she rested with him. The comfort of that moment wasn’t lost to either of them. A moment when two adults can exist familiar with one another with no expectations of anything other than…nothing.
His fingers kept their pace and tune as they slipped under the waist of her skirt. She sank deeper into him inhaling his scent and reminding herself of nights when they moved in stealth stealing sensual moments with one another. It was always pleasant. It was often excellent. She understood that in this moment they were truly alone for the first time.
He stopped playing her body and extended his hand to her. In true comic form…she got stuck on the sofa. They laughed a familiar tune as he helped her up and towards the bedroom.
He undressed her. Not slowly, that would indicate a newness that was not their story. Not swiftly because their hunger wasn’t all encompassing. It was matter of fact, the way couples do after they’ve been together for a time.
He bent her over the side of the bed and began a new percussion, bare handed on her cheeks. He couldn’t see the smile on her face but he watched the sway of her hips, doing a competing dance to his rhythm. In the dim lights he may have missed her clutching of the sheets but he could smell her approval as she began to drip.
As the music played, they played. They toyed with each other giving that which the other wanted as the band played on.
She was so overdue for this treatment she didn’t protest physically or verbally as his hands were replaced with a paddle. She fucking hates paddles.
He soon stopped to switch positions. He wanted to taste her. It was years since he tasted her and he was eager to have her at the mercy of his tongue and hands in a different manner.
There have been fewer than a handful of partners that have been able to fist her. The Gatekeeper was the first successful candidate. Similar to how her body responds to anal sex, her vagina knew this was a repeat of a stellar performance not an amateur hoping to not get booed off stage. She relaxed and let him in one finger at a time. She soon began to ride his hand and let herself go. This was a location without judgment. A man on a mission and a safe place for her. This was a place where she could spit and curse and tremble knowing that when it was over she would be just her without the baggage that society can impose on her type of woman.
Intercourse happened. After talk also happened. She didn’t shower though. She wanted the scent of her sex to linger. It did. After three minutes in the Lyft on the ride back to the spot that scent permeated the interior and had her driver looking at her quizzically.
After a successful connection, it may just be time to change his nickname.
From Gatekeeper to maintenance man.
It’s a blessing that she has this as an option and she values that immensely.
Aphrodite Brown