Ashawo 2.0 – Toy Bags and Shower Heads

You’d confiscated the bag of toys I brought for my weekend over with you. The weekend was really supposed to be one day. Barely had I made it past the door, did we drag each other in arms, lock-lipped.  After how intense things had been on the beach and how fast our fire began to blaze, a day would not be enough to make up for how long I had been away. We’d both agreed that perhaps it was good we did not fuck before I left because we had so little time and withdrawal would be a bitch. I almost regretted not fucking you that night when I got home. Smart choices were making my pussy throb…smh. Adulting! I was back and a day together would not be enough for how long I had been away. How long, in your words, I made you wait. How long you had to desire me without access to me. You’d make me pay, you told me. You had on me, a wild card. You asked me to stay. 

I made up the tale that you convinced me to stay. To convince me would have meant I had other plans which you made me deviate from. Perhaps I did have other plans. I cannot remember them now. But if truly you’d convinced me, it would be the most effortless convincing you would have done your entire life. It was easy. I was easy. I had packed more than one piece of underwear and even if I only had  what I wore to yours, my flesh needed no clothing with you. Your chocolate frame was jigsaw perfect for my petite frame and your bed covers complimented our human-frame cocoon when darkness enveloped life to shut down bodies and minds. 

Taking away my bag of sex toys was how you’d decided to use one of the two wild cards you had in your possession. Of course, you would do some shit like that. You make my legs shake, my eyes tear, my moans grow, make me squirt with the help of MY toys and then take them away from me. Yet you call me the witch between the two of us. Woman… Reconsider your stance. You may not be a witch, but you are wicked! It doesn’t matter though. I am a g/God(dess). 

Our engagement…our playmateship, is a sort of game and the rules of this game have to be obeyed. Come to think of it, I may have done this to myself. I opened my thick lips to birth this bout when I said,

 “Let’s put money on it. 10 cedis” to see who got to the location of our date first. 

“It’s the easiest 10 cedis I’ve ever made. Pay up!” you said.

“Fuck” I muttered between eye rolls as I handed you MY money. I was salty. I really had deceived myself into thinking I’d beat you to arriving at the location when you had the unfair advantage of shorter travel time.  My lips started this and damn right, we would see it through however long it went. Maybe this time I was at your mercy, but Cherry …Cherry…Cherry WILL have her victory. For now, I concede. 

Tell me again, how the hell did you accumulate two wild cards? You still have one more of those devils and I see the wickedly delicious thoughts in your eyes when you look at me. The thoughts drip from your lips when you speak to me and call my name. They roll into the back of your head and come to me through your hands on my ass-cheeks. They scream loud the desire and lust and flame that burns me whole. Knowing the depth of your want for me and I, you; knowing how open we are to mosaicking the multiple worlds that make us whole within the titanium walls of safety we’ve erected with our wounds and wills; knowing vulnerability as pure as the breath of a newborn with each other; knowing gradual surrender, I have no doubt when you do use your second wild card, the request would be wicked. Delicious. All over again.

“You are going to give me your bag of toys. You’ll get it when you get back aannnnnd you come here!”  Wicked grin on your wicked face, you walk away. I had not planned to take my bag of toys with me on the trip but having them in my possession gave me autonomy over my pleasure. My hands and fingers never quite did it for me. I learned a few years ago that vibrators and recently that the tap, tap, tapping sensation activates the fire in my clitoris which curls my toes. Pair that with one of my two glass dildos IN THE BAG. The bag had one more vibrator, nipple suction tubes, an anal plug, two types of lube and chargers for my vibrators. FUCK! I will be away for two weeks. DID YOU REALLY HAVE ME SURRENDER MY PLEASURE TO YOU? *Sighs* Our rules of engagement had been defined and I would obey! In the game of intimacy, sensual and sexual intimacies, all partners involved MUST create their criteria for engagement. They must decide how they move. The rules aren’t fixed. They are plastic…sturdy BUT malleable. When it is time to bend the rules of engagement, ALL PARTNERS must be in on the bending. 

I handed you my bag of toys but not before I snuck out my small blue vibrator. Small enough to hide in my weekend bag, small enough for you to not suspect it was not with the rest of my toys. You take the bag of toys from my hands. Reeking of victory and satisfaction, you walk to your closet and drop it in there. Symbolic. You will hold on to my pleasure. You will let me witness you do this and there is nothing I can do about it. I think one reason I self-sabotaged was because, perhaps a little not so little part of me wanted you to have total control over my desire for you. I wanted to surrender to your dominion over my desire for you. I am hungry for you, but I am also coy. 

I get the last of my things to head home. ECG has taken their electricity, so you have to go to the café to do some work. SHIT! You had me here till Monday girllll! Our uber arrives.

“You think you got everything huh?” My cheeky self blurts.

 “What did you keep out?” 

“My blue vibrator” 

My brain processed the magnitude of fuck up before the sentence landed. 

“Hand it over my gee.” 

Cute-faced, with beady eyes “Really?” 

“You should not have said anything my gee. Now that you said something, I have to take it from you.” 

“But why?” 

“Wild card my babe… you have… HAVE to do as I ask.” 

Grunting part in annoyance and part in pleasure of the surrender that I made happen, I watch you drop my blue vibrator into a small compartment of your backpack. Wicked grin on your face. You look at me and nod. Jolts of immediate regret are sent from my brain to my clitoris. We would be apart for two weeks. You would have my toys with you for two weeks. SHIT! Okay the thought makes my pussy hurt. You have my bag of toys. To get them I’ll be packing another bag for the weekend upon my return. 

While I am away, we would talk… a lot! About everything, especially how much you miss me. Funny, because now I feel like you are also punishing yourself. Cherry is a tease and she makes sure she comes out to play while we are apart. Cherry almost always gets her way with you. Cherry knows how to move you around her finger. Cherry knows how to whet your tongue and leave you wet. You want me so bad. You tell me you do. In your bed, next to you. Grafted skin into each other. The rains have been dancing a lot lately and I think the weather is perfect. You think it is cold but that’s fine. My body runs warm. You could use the warmth of my skin at this moment.  We could listen to music while staring into the orbits of our eyes. Between banter and bashfulness…between lust and care, it would be perfect.  I wish you lay on my hotel bed with me. 

The ride to this place was almost as bad as unlubricated penetrative sex – exasperating in its roughness. It was so bad I considered shortening my trip so I could come back to the city to be with you, in your arms. So, I could puddle up on your floor knowing you will collect me carefully and freeze my gooey self until I am solid again. This of course is a moment of circumstantial weakness. Not my wanting to come back to you, no! Never! The weakness lay in the fleeting thought of cutting my research trip short. Combining the unbearable parts of Ghana roads, with car sickness and a driver who perhaps thought he was in an action movie resulted in a very sick adult. The container that holds my brain feels like it’s being shaken into a gray matter special. So are my intestines. Songs sequenced over rhythmic sharp percussions drive my sickness to madness. This needs to end. I would rather you hold me. This drive is hurting me. Can you lay kisses on my forehead and tell me that I am going to feel okay? Please?

I arrive at my hotel room thankful that buildings on this side of the world have not started moving yet. All that fucking movement makes my head hurt. A warm bath makes me feel better though. The shower head has amazing pressure that seems like it might tickle my clit in just the right ways. “oookkaaayy!” the water feels nice on my skin. It feels nicer on my clit. That night, I tell you about the shower head right before I tell you 

“I’m going to bed b.”

            “I wish I could put you to sleep.”

In my dreams, the shower head spoke to me. Calling me. It wanted me, just as much as you did. Or should I anger you by saying MORE than you want me? In the morning, I realized I could ACTUALLY adjust the spritz setting to high pressure.  I do that after taking the silver shower head of its stand. I point it to our clitoris. FUUUUCCCKKKKKKKKK… Ah-mazing is how I felt. Between moans and sighs, my toes curl. I can barely keep my weight up, so I squat. Breathing in deep then out, I let soft-sighed pleasure escape my lips. Eyes rolling, I see your eyes looking at me. Those saw desire-stricken eyes that makes my pussy throb, I feel you look at me as I give myself one…two…two and a half orgasms. Drool dripping from my slightly parted lips. GADDAAMMMNN! Struggling to stand up straight, I decided to make the responsible choice to finish my shower. I could not wear our self out too much. I will wait for you to wear me out. I have work to do and some of my orgasms are for you to extract from my soul. I miss you and you have my bag of toys. Right now, this shower head is holding me together. 

Cheers to pending weekend bags!

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