It was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning, but Afosua’s body was damp with sweat, her throat was hoarse from screaming and she was about to cum for the third time. As she dipped her back, Ahmed Laiche’s penetration was deeper and more insistent from behind. In just 36 hours, she would be Mrs. Afosua Laiche. She loved the ring of her new name to-be, as well as the ring that her fiancé had given her. As the diamond on her left hand caught a glimpse of the dawn sunlight filtering through the window , she orgasmed quickly and suddenly. Feeling her pulsate, Ahmed groaned and finally had his release. He refused to cum unless Afosua did first.
“You really made me work hard for that one,” he said, kissing her on the neck and nuzzling into her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I was a little distracted.”
“And how could you be distracted with all this dick drilling you?” he laughed.
“Don’t talk dirty!” Afosua scolded mockingly.
“You know you like it,” Ahmed retorted, trailing the palm of his hand down her back and cupping her buttocks. They were so hungry for each other that their passion defied all responsibility. Still, Afosua knew they had a busy day ahead, and they had to get up.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she whispered. “We have to finish up our last minute plans.”
“Fine. If you insist,” Ahmed sulked. “If it were up to me, we’d just go to the justice and get our license drawn up. No party, no reception, none of that foolishness.”
Afosua knew exactly where Ahmed stood on the subject of a wedding celebration. Being from Algeria, he was accustomed to weddings being a weeklong affair, just as she was as a Ghanaian. He was a simple man, and wanted no part of it. Afosua wouldn’t have minded, but she knew that his mother would accuse her trying to steal one more piece of happiness from her by refusing to have a proper wedding. After weeks of begging and bribing, she got her future husband to agree to a small ceremony and reception. She kissed him one final time before stepping into the welcomed stream of hot water.
As Afosua washed her hair, she recalled the first time she’d met Ahmed two years before. It was in their third year of university and they were taking the same differential equation course. The course wasn’t a requirement to graduate, but she had a few credit hours to spare and she wanted to do it for fun. There were 7 students in the class, and she was the only Black female. She stood out like an ant in a bowl of sugar. No one ever made her feel unwelcome, and by the end of the first semester, all 7 of the undergraduates had become very close. They studied regularly together and met up for lunch when their schedules permitted. Out of the entire bunch, Ahmed Laiche was the most reserved. He was scrawny with thick curly hair and hazel colored eyes that were always watching. Afosua found this alarming – and alluring.
“How come you don’t talk as much as everyone else?” Afosua interrogated him one day when they were in the library alone.
“Well for one thing, this is a library…and it’s a place that demands silence,” he quipped.
“Touché,” she chuckled quietly.
“And why are you always so chatty,” he asked her in return.
“I don’t know,” she mused. “I guess it’s my culture. We just like to talk a lot I guess.”
“It seems like a quality that a person who was always seeking approval might possess,” he philosophized.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Afosua bristled. “I wouldn’t classify myself as an attention seeker.”
“All the same, I’d be careful if I were you,” he said ominously. “You come off as very trusting. People lie, but numbers never do.”
This was the most that Afosua had ever heard Ahmed speak, to her or anyone else. She stared at him for a good long time, until it compelled him to speak again.
“I like your hair,” he said pensively.
“I like your hair. I like the way the color changes when it catches the light.”
Afosua beamed. She was genuinely pleased with the compliment, although she didn’t see what he was talking about. Her hair was black, and wasn’t much different from any other woman’s hair from Ghana either.
“No one’s ever told me that before,” she smiled. “That was really sweet…I could almost kiss you!”
She was laughing, but Ahmed took her seriously.
“Why don’t you then?”
She was surprised by his candor, but acquiesced all the same. What harm could it do? Afosua leaned in and prepared to give him a peck on the cheek. He slid his hand behind the back of her neck, trapping her and pulling her towards him, seeking something more. His lips were so soft, his breath so sweet. They would have kissed longer if she had not reminded herself that they were in the library – but that moment sealed them forever. They were inseparable after that. Very soon they stopped studying with the group and went off to study on their own, taking breaks between solving equations to make love in the solitude of the lab or pleasure each other discreetly if there were more people around. They moved in together right after graduation, and within a few months Ahmed grew from a shy skinny student to a well-built man, thanks to the good food and great sex Afosua was giving him. Their lives were like something out of a fairy tale, with each of them procuring good jobs right out of university and finding an unbridled love and friendship with each other so young in life.
But like every fairy tale there was a villain: Ahmed’s mother despised Afosua. The thought of Asma Laiche’s feelings for her snapped her back into the present.
After she toweled off, Afosua smacked Ahmed on the thigh to force him out of bed.
“Come on, babes,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to be late for our rehearsal dinner. I don’t need another reason to make your mother angry with me.”
“I don’t know you care some much,” he chided. “It’s not like you’re marrying her.”
“I know that baby, but it’s just so much easier when your mother-in-law likes you; and I really want us to get along. All of us.”
Ahmed grunted and got up to wash up as well. As the forth son in a family of six, he was often overlooked and ignored. Neither his brother nor his parents paid any particular attention to him, and while this would have given other young men an avenue to act out to get some attention, it only made him draw into himself. It wasn’t until he met Afosua that he’d come out of his shell. He was more confident when she was around, and she made him believe he could do anything.
Just as he was about to step into the shower, he turned around to discover that she had slipped into his favorite pair of black lace panties and matching bra. He grinned.
“Did you put those on for me?”
“Yes. For later.”
“How about for now?”
“Oh come on,” she scoffed. You can’t recover that quick!”
He ignored her and guided her to the floor with a wicked grin plastered on his face. With one hand he slipped off her panties and with the other he roughly pushed her legs open. Afosua leaned back reluctantly as he kissed her labia. When his tongue found her clitoris, she gave up resisting.
“Ahmed we’re going to be late. Ahmed… Ahmed!”
That would be the fourth time that morning.
The ride from London to Croydon took half an hour to complete. There were some gifts in the village shop that Afosua wanted to buy for the guests, and she had to go see about the venue. When Ahmed and Afosua arrived at Evelyn’s Events, the firm that was handling their wedding, they were 20 minutes late and Asma was there waiting as well. She was not happy.
“I see that the two of you decided to show up,” she snarled. “This isn’t Africa, Afosua. In England we stick to our time.”
“It wasn’t Afosua’s fault, Umi,” said Ahmed. “And is Algeria not part of Africa?”
Asma Laiche scowled. She hated it when her son would point this out, as though two countries sharing the same continental land mass made this monkey her equal, or better still worthy of her son.
Sensing tension, the event planner stepped in.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” she suggested.
“Lead the way,” said Afosua.
Everything was in order, and it was going to be beautiful. Afosua and Ahmed had chosen turquoise and burnt orange as their wedding colors, which were non-traditional and striking. Even Asma approved. The caterers would set everything up and the staff at Evelyn’s would handle every other details. Now all that was left to get out of the way was the rehearsal dinner and to be married in the morning. Although things were unpleasant between Afosua and the elder Mrs. Laiche, she was still grateful that so much else was going right. The forecast called for warm weather, and there wouldn’t be a cloud in the sky all week. She hoped it would be an omen for her and Ahmed’s future together.
Sensing her thoughts, her came behind her and hugged her tightly.
“Come on. Let’s go to dinner,” he whispered. “I want to get all these ridiculous steps out of the way if it’ll get me closer to marrying you.”
She smiled and leaned back to kiss him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
To be continued….