The Suicide Of Her- Raw Writing (Adult Content)

 Raw writing: The Suicide of Her

If you were screaming my name a thousand times, repeating the same 8 octaves I probably wouldn’t hear you. My head was cloudy and full of clustered yet buoyant thoughts and unfamiliar emotions. 30 days exactly, and not a minute longer- my life has become a brand new screen play. A new book. Taking me as its co-star, no longer the feature. My role has been replaced with unwarranted desires, a lover with soft hands. I sit Indian style on my cream leather sofa, watching the cream-colored walls. In just minutes, this unwarranted desire will be knocking on my door, probably pissed from the phone call I’d made the night before. The unnecessary call to her husband, it wasn’t what I intended on doing, after all she was supposed to meet me at Panera to talk about our relationship, and didn’t show up. I was determined to start disarray. “Tell your wife she will wish she had never met me.” That was all I said. Once I heard him starting to question who I was I hung up the phone. No conversation needed. She wasn’t going to fuck with me, fuck with my sexuality and my security without paying for it in an ultimate way. Knowing of what I have been through, with family members placing their disgusting hands upon my flesh, my body young and underdeveloped but still in some sick way desirable by the grown man who some would know of as my brother should have been enough for her to sympathize and sink her teeth into someone who was more mentally capable of handling her. With the boundaries of what normalcy taken away from me, I no longer can determine what is sexually regular according to others and what was merely a familiarity. So meeting her, an unwarranted desire…was both confusing and sacred. She knew that. As I listened to knocks on my door convert to panicked pounding,  I got up and headed towards the front door. Moving in stealth mode, I placed my feet against the carpet. She was going to wait. Like I did since the moment she decided she wouldn’t show up to our night out last night.  “Something came up”, was that all she could come up? Via text message at that?  The leaves on my tree wilted because of that excuse and the excitement from seeing my forbidden love had waned. The something that came up was her husband, the something that came up was her disrespect for me. I opened the door, not all the way. Just enough to see her eyes. She has beautiful eyes. Brown and erotically shaped. The cat with the exotic eyes. Slowly, I opened up the front door a little more, until I was face to face with my lover. My enemy. She didn’t say a word, just looked me in the eyes. I guess I was intimidated because I needed to break that gaze. It was getting inside of my head. She walked up to me, slow paces. Three steps. Takes her right hand and softly grabs my chin, she wanted me to look at her. She knew the power that lied in her eyes, and like sticking my hand in the fire I did what I knew what would burn me. With the door open, our lips touched. Standing in my doorway, we kissed slowly and sensual. Her mouth was warm and sweet, like a cinnamon roll straight from the oven. She placed her hands on my waist and pushed me backward into the house and closed the door. She was intense, more intense than she had been previously. Probably because she knew that things were getting volatile and the end of our relationship was approaching. She removed my Fredrick’s lace robe and exposed my red undergarments . I love the color red. Everything about it screamed unpure, which to me was the epitome of my current life, the opposite of disciplined. Perhaps that is why things around me are so uncultivated. My sexual wicked worked her way down to my neck, hands invading my bra, caressing my nipples like she were calming me before she prepared for war. She licked my core, as I stood there without movement and she worked her way down to her knees, still the perfect height to the center of my body. One of the reasons why I loved her. She was beautiful, almost stunning. Perfect brown skin with not a blemish or mark in sight, obvious that she took time to take care of her body. Her hair natural with not one trace of chemicals. She was earthy. Tall and statuesque like a model but with the curves of the women in Africa. She was my kryptonite. My thoughts were interrupted when I felt the heat of her mouth on my sensitive spot. My panties, my protection. Keeping me from falling weak from the knees. And as she took her hands and placed them on my buttocks, I knew I had to put my back against a wall or else I would be unable to refrain from falling to the floor with her. She followed me as I moved. Massaging my posterior, Looked up at me and said “You do this to me.” I spread my legs a little to give her better access, and she french kissed the top area of my clit. My moan was powerful. I felt it coming through me like water coming through a faucet. She took her left index finger and moved my lace panty to the left side, putting her lips together to blow silky air on my lips. A same difference. Wanting to grasp some type of control over myself and over her, I took my hands from off the off-white walls and grabbed her pony tail, sitting up, curly and coarse in a way she loved to have it. Natural. Went to reach for her hair tie but I couldn’t get to it fast enough since she had already put her wet mouth against my pussy and I lost all feeling in every part of my body but the most important spot. She licked back and forth, back and forth. Slow circular motions, giving me all she has. Never in a million years has this been enough for me to fall so deeply in lust. A woman who was once moved by penetration, sex with a man. The sweat, the comfort of being as society expected has been my conservation. But she’d become my weakness. Lifting my leg up over her shoulder, oh my god. She sucked on me, changing her speed from slow to vicious. The urgency to make me cum was in her and I was prepared to give her want she wanted. I squirmed and moaned, wanting my neighbors to hear me. I came, with sudden shame. Removing my hands from her head as I tried to find my strength, the power in my body. Finished with her moment of authority , she sat on her hind legs and put her head down, guess she felt that sudden shame as well.

Once I felt somewhat back to normal, I pulled my panties back on, walked away from her.

I sat back down on my couch. If she wanted to talk to me she would have to follow me, as I was not in the mood to go after her anymore than I have for the past two weeks. Minutes later, she walked into my living room head still somewhat hanging low. “I’m sorry about last night, things got a little crazy. I told you that I would be here tonight. Why did you call Jay?”

“Really? who in the fuck do you think you are Mercedes?” I said with a little bass. I surprised myself.

“Please, don’t start. I’d spend every minute of my day with you, you know that. I just have to work out this situation with him. What am I supposed to do?.”

“Not waste my time, for one. For two don’t drag me into your mess. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now.  Maybe we should just stop, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“Baby”, she got up and sat next to me. “I can’t argue with you. This has been the most amazing time I’ve had in a while. I’ll handle it. I just need for you to be patient and invest a little bit of time in me. I promise you will not lose anything.” I softened. Couldn’t find the words to express how I was feeling without sounding like a person who has lost her senses. Love was a tricky thing. All that I could muster was “Okay.” She reached over; placing her hands on the back of my neck and gave me a passionate kiss. I am so weak. Fragile, hooked and knowing that I had a wild ride ahead.


4 thoughts on “The Suicide Of Her- Raw Writing (Adult Content)

  1. Kymmie, what a ride we follow you on in this roller-coaster of emotional seduction. I feel you on this. I’m captured by the vulnerability of this character. Understanding her need for her partners love and the disappointment that follows when reality sets after her climax. I relate with her when realizing that she will not have everything she wants from the one she thinks she loves. Good work!

    Never Stop Writing! You are Beautiful.

    Mahdeá Cantu

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