Chapter 3
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arlon gazed out of Vickie’s apartment window into the darkness high
above the surrounding buildings. The full moon had caught his eye as it glowed like
a bright pearl against the backdrop of a cloudless night sky. He had always
preferred its pale glow to the blinding glare of the sun and was fascinated by
the moon’s almost magical properties; the way it influenced the levels of the
ocean’s tides and how it altered people’s moods. The fact that it was
exponentially closer to the earth than the star whose light it reflected made
the moon feel even more special to him, like a friend that only lived a few
doors down.
“What are you over there staring at?” Vickie asked from the other side
of the room.
She was in bed, dressed in just her underwear, surrounded by textbooks,
notepads, pens and highlight markers. The multi-colored sticky notes that she
used as tiny bookmarks flapped like feathers from a colorful, tropical bird
because of the breeze generated by the small, desktop fan on the nightstand
next to her. Her panties and bra weren’t a matching set but she was comfortable
enough around him that she really didn’t care. Her hair hung loosely around her
shoulders, messy and wild, a sharp contrast to the conservatively neat styles she
usually wore when she ventured outside of her cozy, one-bedroom apartment. The
side of her that she showed the rest of the world and what she allowed him to
see were two completely different things.
“I’m just looking up at the moon. It’s full tonight,” he answered,
turning away from the window to give her his full attention. “What are you over
there studying?” he asked.
“I’m working on a paper for my anthropology class,” she answered as she
dragged a yellow highlighter across a passage in the textbook in her lap.
“Anthropology. Now, there’s a subject that’ll come in handy in life,” he
said playfully.
“Says the guy who hasn’t even decided on a major yet who passionately
expressed the virtues of being well-rounded and learned when he tried to
explain why he was taking World Arts 101 to me earlier today,” she answered,
raising her glasses off of her nose and resting them on top of her head.
“You’re so cute when you’re being a smartass,” he told her.
“Oh really? So cute that I’m doing my Anthropology paper instead of
getting that second round that you promised me?” she asked sarcastically.
“Don’t pout. You know that I’m a man of my word,” he said as he walked
away from the window and got back into bed with her, shoving some of her papers
aside.
“Ugh, you’re making a mess,” she complained halfheartedly because the
truth was, she could think of a long list of things she would rather be doing
at the moment and none of those things had anything to do with her Anthropology
paper or any form of schoolwork.
“What’s the theme of this paper that you’re working so hard on?” he
asked while running his finger gently across her naked shoulder.
“I’m writing a paper on how women are depicted differently from men in
almost everything you read in literature. I’m calling it Subtle Sexism,”
she answered, slightly excited by his touch.
“That seems like an odd subject for an anthropology project. I thought
anthropology was about digging up old bones and cracked clay pots,” he joked.
“That’s part of it but it’s a lot more than that. Anthropology is the
study of humankind. In more technical terms, it’s the comparative study of
human societies and cultures and their development,” she answered.
“You know I love it when you talk nerdy to me right?” he told her, then
gently started planting kisses on her shoulder blade.
“Is that so?” she asked as thoughts of how language was used in a
recent newspaper article to describe a female nominee for the next U.S.
presidency in a manner that made her seem weaker than her male counterparts
floated out of her head, replaced by carnal curiosity about what Marlon planned
to do next.
“Yes, that’s a fact. Smart women are way sexier than dumb ones,” he
answered while playing in her belly button with his index finger.
“I have a lot of work to do,” Vickie sighed, protesting weakly.
Marlon slid his fingers in a straight line down her stomach across her
soft skin gradually until he slipped his hand past the waistband of her
underwear. She was wet and sticky between her most feminine lips. The highlight
marker fell from Vickie’s fingers as she began to moan and pull her own hair.
Marlon smiled, because of how she responded to what he was doing to her with
just his fingers. To him, it was like playing a musical instrument. The sounds
she made changed depending on how and where he touched her. There was no
guessing involved on his part anymore because he knew what she liked and had
learned what she loved.
As much as Vickie enjoyed his touch, she refused to become so
completely lost in pleasure that she forgot that she had power over him as
well. The Victoria that she carefully and deliberately constructed each
morning to present to the world served as the cage that kept the wilder side of
Vickie contained and metaphorically restrained. She had always been afraid to
let that side of herself loose. The countless lectures from her mother about always
being a proper lady and a good girl at all times had warped her perception of
sexuality to such a degree that she was ashamed of some of the things she
desired to do, and to have done to her. It was only since she moved into her
own apartment and met Marlon that she had been able to do so much of what she
had been taught not to do.
When Marlon’s fingers were no longer enough to satisfy her, she shoved
all of her schoolwork out of the bed and onto the floor. Anthropology, sexism
in social media and everything else that pertained to school was swept from her
mind. Marlon might have started out as the aggressor but Vickie quickly became
more lustful than the first woman who bit into the biblical forbidden fruit in
the first garden. Even Marlon was surprised by how aggressive she suddenly
became.
In the blink of an eye, Marlon found himself flat on his back on Vickie’s
mattress. She nearly ripped his T-shirt as she pulled it up over his head and
once it was off, she flung it across the room. He winced in pain when she
roughly shoved her hand down in front of his boxer briefs and groped him. Women
sometimes underestimated how sensitive a man’s male parts were. He took off his
underwear himself and to his relief, she was much more gentle with her mouth
than she had been with her hands.
With her full, pouty lips, Vickie kissed him on his stomach first and
then much lower. The wetness of her mouth was one of his favorite parts of
their ritualistic foreplay when they warmed each other up for what came next.
He skillfully unhooked her bra with one hand and freed her breasts so that he
could fondle them. The stiffness of her nipples excited him and Marlon marveled
at how God had shaped and molded women into such beautiful forms. Curvy,
voluptuous, pleasantly plump, slim-thick, chunky, short or tall, he admired
them all but at the moment, Vickie was his Venus and he knew exactly what to do
with her.
Vickie tasted pre-cum and knew that she had brought Marlon to the brink
of climax right before he grabbed her head and stopped her. Mischievously she
smiled, satisfied that she had almost finished him off with just her mouth. She
recognized in his face how hard he fought to stay in control, of his own body
and the entire situation in general. Vickie empathized with his struggle and
decided to relinquish the reins, just for little while. Her lover switched
places with her and she ended up on her back with her legs on Marlon’s
shoulders. The course stubble where he had trimmed his beard tickled the soft
and sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
Marlon boldly pressed his face between her legs and with a firm grip on
her supple limbs, he forced her legs apart so that he could taste how sweet she
really was. Like a small waterfall, she flowed and made his face glisten, from
the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin. Vickie loved the way he kissed
her second pair of lips. Her toes curled as both of her legs began to tremble.
The way she smelled and the flavor of her sweetness on his tongue was one of
the things Marlon loved because it intoxicated him. He brought her to the edge
of climax but, before he pushed her off into the pleasurable chasm that was an
orgasm, he took his tongue away.
The way Marlon abruptly stopped making love to her with his mouth
nearly drove Vickie insane. She was tempted to reach down and choke him because
of how he had cruelly teased her. He deserved at least a slap. Before she had a
chance to voice her displeasure, he climbed on top of her. Then she gasped from
the sensation of his penetration and fell recklessly in lust from the feeling
of that first stroke. Each one after that one intensified and made her body
shiver as he delivered even more than she had expected, forcing her to wonder
what might have inspired him so. That question danced in her head for a split-second
but, as waves of pleasure washed over her, she simply didn’t care, at least not
in that moment. Women tended to be mentally gifted in that way. She filed away
her suspicions in the back of her mind for later discussion so that she could
focus on what she was getting from him and simply enjoyed what was happening.
Marlon’s lips curled into a wicked grin when Vickie pushed him off of
her so that she could roll over and get on all fours on the mattress. She
looked back at him over her shoulder as he licked his lips and prepared to take
her from behind. He used his left hand
to hold her slender waist and his right hand to squeeze the meaty cheek of her
butt that was larger than one would imagine on a woman with her petite frame.
Aside from her breasts, she had the upper body of a skinny woman but her lower
half was round and plump. Marlon often wondered how she successfully hid all of
that, such an incredibly voluptuous body, underneath her clothes.
He tried to last for as long as he could but the way she threw it back
on him, he just couldn’t hold on. In complete ecstasy and trapped by the walls
of her wet warmth, he almost didn’t pull out in time. As he finally exploded,
he felt as if he had spilled a part of his soul all over her back, butt cheeks
and bedsheets. It wasn’t difficult for him to understand and relate to why
orgasms were once called “the little death” by that old, famous playwright,
Shakespeare. Marlon was completely convinced that a portion of his life force
was drained every time he came. He wasn’t sure if it was the same for women.
Vickie always appeared to be the exact opposite, energized, as if she had been
given life, and was ready to go again.
Vickie was impressed with herself when she saw the spent expression on
Marlon’s face. She could have allowed him to control how fast, or how slowly he
pushed inside her so that he could have lasted longer but, towards the very end,
she took back the power she had allowed him to borrow when they first started by
controlling the rhythm of their sex. The way she had thrust herself back into
him stimulated the most sensitive part of his manhood as his tip hit the
deepest parts of her. After he erupted and collapsed on the bed, she cuddled up
beside him. Now that they were both satisfied, her mind returned to the thoughts
she had temporarily suppressed. Marlon put his arm around her and Vickie
planted a few soft kisses on his smooth, hairless, bare chest.
“What are we doing?” Vickie asked.
“I thought that was obvious,” Marlon joked, assuming that her question
was completely random, absolutely unaware that the nature of their intimate
relations was something that had been weighing heavily on her as of late.
“I’m being serious,” she continued to press.
Although she affectionately tiptoed her fingers across his chest, he
could sense the seriousness and the angst that stirred within her. This concerned
him because he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer anything she was asking him.
In the past, he had always done his best to give Vickie his most honest self
and for the first time since they met, he wasn’t sure if that was what he
should do.
“Okay, but you do understand that that question is really open-ended
and ambiguous?” he asked, holding her hand to stop her from walking them across
his chest because he could feel that they were about to have a very serious
conversation. “It’s also a can of worms, a Pandora’s box, and a big pile of dog
poop that we should avoid stepping in at all costs,” he told her.
“We opened that can of worms when we started flirting and fishing for
each other’s affections. We already opened Pandora’s box when you first opened
my legs. And, I’m pretty sure that dog poop washes off,” she answered which
made Marlon grin. (as he had told her earlier, he loved when she was being a
smartass.)
“I guess you’re right,” he answered.
“I’m always right. Now, stop stalling and trying to be cute. Answer the
question,” she told him.
“What question was that again?” he asked.
“You know what question,” she answered and slapped him on the chest
with the palm of her hand. “What are we doing?”
“Ouch,” he said as he winced.
“Answer the question or I’ll slap you harder the next time.”
“Okay, okay,” he said and held her wrist with a firm grip as she raised
her hand again. “We’re making each other happy,” Marlon finally answered.
Vickie sat up in bed beside him when she heard that. It wasn’t quite
the response she had expected and it caused her to consider things that she
hadn’t considered before.
“I make you happy?” she asked with humble disbelief.
“Of course you do,” he answered, surprised to hear in her voice how
taken she was by his sincere statement. “Wait, don’t I make you happy?” Marlon
asked, also sitting up in bed so that they could see each other at eye level;
well almost. Vickie was a little taller than he was.
“You make me happy, in a way,” she answered.
“In a way?” he asked, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable about where
their conversation seemed to be heading. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There are times that you make me happy, and then there are times when
you confused me,” Vickie answered, turning her eyes away from his.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said, suddenly as confused as
she seemed to be.
“When we lay together, whenever you’re inside me, I feel close to you
and it feels like you really do care about me,” she started to explain.
“And when we’re not having sex?” Marlon asked.
“Well, when we’re not having sex, it feels like you’re not really here
with me. Your mind wanders off and I feel like I’m alone, like you don’t know
if I’m here at all, like it doesn’t matter whether or not I’m here.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel that way. I didn’t realize that I zone
out like that sometimes,” Marlon tried to explain. “I love spending time with
you.”
“I’m sure you do but for how long? If the only time we connect is when
we have sex, how long before that runs its course? How long before one of us,
or both of us, realizes that sex is not enough? Maybe we should stop now before
one of us gets hurt,” Vickie suggested.
“What’s going on? Why would you say that?” he asked.
“Because it’s true, and I want to stop before I get too attached to
you.”
“But what if I’m already attached to YOU?” Marlon asked, reaching out
to take her hand in his.
“I think we should be careful, so that neither one of us gets hurt.
That’s all I’m saying,” she told him.
“But I would never hurt you,” Marlon told her and immediately realized
how cliché the words that just came out of his mouth sounded. That had to be
the most famous phrase used by desperate lovers who almost always turned out to
be liars in the end.
“No, not on purpose. And I would never want to hurt you either but,
people do a lot of hurtful things by accident so let’s just be careful,” she
answered.
Copyright
© 2015 Keith Kareem Williams
All
rights reserved.
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