When I started fucking a Ghanaian man the first thing that drove home for me that, individual differences aside, our sex life was a little bit different than it had been with my American ex was this: A few weeks into our super-active love life I looked down at my waist beads and realized they were all still intact.
I was shocked. We had been having some vigorous and involved sex and my guy’s hands were usually wrapped around my waist or hips. In my prior relationship I had ripped a lot of waist beads and I had just come to think of it as a part of an active sex life. I think a part of me had even come to use my beads getting ripped as a measure of how crazy-good the sex had been. So when I realized my waist beads were still lying there intact around my hips after so much passionate boot-knocking with my current guy I was almost unnerved for a minute. Could the sex really have been as good as I thought?
It didn’t take me more than a second of mulling to feel like I would be struck by lightning for even questioning something like that. When had my body ever done the things it was doing for this dude? Chale, the sex was more than good. It was wow. But then, how were my waist beads all still intact?
I brought this question up with my guy to tease him and his response was “Abi, the non-African guy just slept with any women in ahundzi before you. Maybe he didn’t know that you’re not supposed to rip them.” I died laughing. I almost wanted to call my ex to ask him if my beads ever got in his way or if struggling not to damage them every time we had sex had consumed a lot of his emotional energy but I suppressed the urge. Though I must say I giggled for days.
But after that conversation I couldn’t stop thinking about waist beads. They hold a special place in my heart. I started wearing them as an adult. My aunt gifted me with my first pair when I became sexually active and this further cemented their association with love, sexiness and steaminess in my head. I personally have about five sets, of six to ten strands each, that I cycle through depending on if I’ve gained weight around my hips, if I’m wearing clothes that are tighter or loose fitting, if I’m wearing trousers with low waistbands or higher ones, skirts with thicker fabrics or lighter ones etc.
Having several sets is actually a holdover from my past relationship in which no one set lasted more than a few weeks. Back then, I didn’t alternate pairs, I just wore one set till it got ripped and then replaced it with another. After my ex and I broke up I just kept acquiring beads at the same schedule and wearing them for my own happiness. So before I knew it I had quite a few pairs. Because I take my beads off to shower (they get wet and make me cold under my clothes if I don’t) it isn’t a lot of trouble to alternate between sets.
I never expect my current guy to notice when they change but he always does. He doesn’t have a favorite set, at least not that he has mentioned, but he tends to notice when a new set enters the roster. He makes some comment or asks me what the occasion is. He handles different sets of beads differently too. He seems to intuitively know which ones will hold up to some hard gripping and there is one pair that I always seem to be wearing during especially torrid lovemaking. After so many incidents of torrid lovemaking there is undoubtedly still a part of me that is shocked that my current guy hasn’t so much as unhinged a single bead.
Dwelling on this shock got me thinking about all the things I had read about waist beads: how they were supposed to be a rosary of sorts for your lover—something to help him keep time and stay on beat while he fucked you. I had read somewhere else that they were supposed to be a metronome to help the guy you were with measure his pulse so he didn’t over-exert himself. Another book I had come across said that waist beads were worn for the sound. Every man knew the particular sound of his woman’s beads and so when he heard her walking he could hear a sexual music under her clothes that no other man could hear. The sound of it would keep him excited until nighttime. I thought of how romantic all these things were and how they were all probably just starry-eyed reimaginings of a practical object—back in the days of old when panties weren’t yet introduced women wore loincloths, which were just a folded piece of cloth that stretched from their pelvis to their buttocks, and waist beads were designed to hold up the loincloths—but how sexy all the reimaginings were all the same. I started thinking about limiting my set of waist beads to only one pair that I never took off so my guy could memorize the sound and hear me walking across the room towards him and give me some secret smile only he and I would know the meaning of.
Adventurers do any of you have a waist bead story? Do you find them sexy? How do you interact with them during sexytimes?