X Marks the Spot

He watches her methodically undress in the dimly lit hotel room while he stands at the head of the bed. His shoulders are rigid and his back is erect. His rangy limbs are squarely planted on ten and two of his body.

She reaches behind her own back and unzips her long floral dress. The dress slips from her shoulders and allows it to glide to the floor. The silk pools around her feet before she sneaks a glance over her shoulder to see if his attention has been obtained. His eyes are fixed in her direction but his face is unmoved.

She returns to undressing by side-stepping from the middle of the floral fabric around her ankles, her stiletto heel briefly getting snagged in the mess. Her full, natural breasts hang like pumelos on her chest.

When she turns to look at her prospective lover again, his back has relaxed and his nimble fingers have gone to work on unzipping his pants and unbuttoning his shirt.

She turns away again to smile before sensually bending over to collect her dress from the floor. Her round behind separates ever so slightly, allowing him to see a flirtatious wink from her inner thighs.

Her heels subtly click across the floor adding to the soundtrack of scarce traffic flashing past their hotel window. A train horn sounds off in the distance. With her dress now neatly draped across the back of the rickety office chair, she’s ready to follow his remaining instructions.

Her heels click-clack to the hotel dormitory’s entrance. She uses the extra locks to secure the doorway. She looks over to him again. His button-down shirt and slacks are halved over his folded arms. The pair is separated by the bed and his tight, white boxer briefs.

She reassures him by crawling across the bed to him and taking his clothes from his arms.

“Come,” she says seductively.

She leaves his clothes on the bedside table and leans back on the bed. Her long, lean legs spread on each side. He leans over her, his lips stiffly pressing against hers. She uses her tongue to part his lips, his jaw goes slack then their lips engage in a game of cat and mouse.

Using her stilettos as leverage, she digs them into the bed, squeezes her thighs around his waist, then inches him and herself further onto the bed. She digs her teeth into his bottom lip before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

He winces a bit before striking his hand against her throat to give a gentle but stern reminder of their arrangement. Her vagina tightens with anticipation for what’s to come.

He bites her bottom lip in return, then her chin and along her jawline. Her heart skips a beat when he moves down the side of her neck, a small distance beneath her ear. His bites burn with pleasure. Her soft moans feed his flame. Her hands travel the length of his back, her ankles are now crossed delicately around his waist.

She can feel his bulge against her. Her moans plead for him to silence the aching in her most private part, her deepest secret. She uses her fingers to tickle the band of his briefs, his hands catch her wrists then pin them over her head.

Her hips gyrate on his bulge to continue beckoning his phallus, but he continues to take his time.

Coming soon…

photo credit: stefan kuhn

Dear Dad

Hey you. I’ve got something to tell you and the best way that I could see to do it was by putting it down on paper. Don’t misunderstand what I am about to say, not every child raised like me will be just like me. After all, once I hit 23, I have to take the blame. We all won’t be single mothers with multiple fertilizers to our seeds. We all won’t seek fathers in lovers or settle for less than what we deserve because we don’t know our worth. We all can’t be what I have become because I have two and what will they become? What you have done to me! And what have you done for me?

The disdain between you & mother, mother & you was far greater than your love for me. My smile wasn’t bright enough, my laugh wasn’t sweet enough, and my hand wasn’t warm enough.

“Later, later, later. When she’s older, it will be better. I will tell her how much I love her and that it is her mother’s fault we couldn’t be together.”

“Later, later, later. One day I will be older and I will tell him about all that he’s missed. I will tell him how much I love him and one day, I will see how it is mommy’s fault.”

But later never comes, it just becomes later and while waiting for later, men twice my age told me what you never did. And then I told them everything I never told you in return. I laid in their laps and had my hair brushed, my blouse straightened, and my bedroom eyes were complimented. “They’re my daddy’s eyes;” and they were Daddy’s eyes indeed.

I did not know it then but I sought you out in bedroom after bedroom whilst I tumbled, skid, and fought thru dysfunctional relationship after relationship improving my craft. And here we are. I am writing you because after twenty-six short years of my unguided life, you have changed your mind. After twenty-six years of later, you have decided that you don’t want to be my father and all I can say is, “later.”