Amara’s Decision

Illustrated by Mawena Ahento

Written by Naomi Akharele

Ama sighed softly as the warm water from the shower cascaded down her back, hair falling in the same manner as soon as she let it out of the ponytail it was in. She sighed again as her hands raked through the roots of her hair, this time a little deeper.

You see, Ama loved having her hair touched, but it had been over a year since the last time she gave any men something other than an awkward side hug, and with remote work, her brothers were the only people she ever saw. Then her mother and best friends pooled together some money for her to find herself in this resort, alone. 

While the thought still made her smile until her cheeks hurt, the idea behind it hurt. They couldn’t blame her for wanting to take her life so seriously after the last couple of years she’d had. Feeling tears start to prickle beneath her eyes, she raised her head so the water could wash them away. She didn’t cry in public.

After a long swim, people had started to crowd the poolside and she didn’t know where the confidence came from, but the chilly 9 a.m. morning felt better without a towel to cover her exposed bum and the slight tan line that had begun to form from her pool shenanigans since she got to the resort. 

Ama didn’t let herself out to play a lot, but the resort had a 24/7 cocktail dispensary and the wine had its time to simmer inside her. Now she wanted to do something with it.

As she sat by the patio, sipping on a glass of some overpriced, artsy wine that tasted like liquid grass but got the job done, she noticed that half the eyes that were on her had left and it sent a slight tinge of annoyance through her. It would seem that another had come to take the small spotlight she had managed to get. As a childish display of annoyance, she didn’t want to look at the person who had a crowd with their jaws on the ground, until they sat beside her. 

Goddess braids, dark skin, impossibly long legs and an ass that moved on its own, tied up in a pretty pink bikini that covered next to nothing. 

Ama felt a thrill run through her and she took a hefty gulp of wine to sate it. It only warmed her face and stomach, with hard nipples and a slightly pointed gaze being the evidence. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the pretty girl said to Ama who raised her eyes to meet mischievous but kind ones. She didn’t know what to expect, but understanding wasn’t among them. This woman knew the power she had and she understood Ama’s gaze. 

It only made sense that they finished another bottle together and made it up to the beautiful stranger’s room to watch some TV together. And it made even more sense that Ama had her glossy lips kissing at her neck while her hands roamed her now naked body. 

She wanted to feel bad; she wasn’t even gay, well at least she didn’t think she was, but she couldn’t stop herself when this goddess of a woman leaned in to kiss her, and she sure as hell wouldn’t stop herself now. 

“What?” too lost in her head and the simple pleasure of having another woman’s acrylics trace along her stomach, Ama didn’t seem to have heard what was being said to her.

“I said, I’m Desiree, and you?” There was a smile in Desiree’s voice and Ama turned to look at her, finding a small smile that made the out of her stomach start dancing again. She allowed herself a longer look, letting her eyes travel from Desiree’s gracious neck, collar bones that she wanted to drink out of, strong shoulders, gorgeous, gorgeous breasts and legs that didn’t want to end, and she found herself wanting to explore her more. These were things she hadn’t done before, and for the first time in her life, Ama wanted to learn on the job. 

“Amara, but you can call me Ama. Can I taste you?” The introduction-turned question came out in a single rushed breath, but Desiree smiled as she nodded, adjusting herself and spreading her legs open. 

Ama took her time, looking between her legs and enjoying the anatomy. Seeing a vagina so close in a way that wasn’t biological felt different, in an exhilarating way, and maybe she didn’t know what to do, and maybe it had been well over a year since she had anyone between her legs, but she would figure it out. 

And that she did. She also listened to Desiree’s instructions, doing exactly as she asked and putting her amateur spin on it. In a few minutes, Desiree was panting, both hands buried in Ama’s hair as she pressed her face deeper between her legs. 

Ama was drunk. Not just on the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed but on Desiree. She didn’t taste like anything, but she also tasted like everything. Slightly tart, with an essence that she could only describe as entirely Desiree’s. She wanted more, so she slid a finger into her sopping hole and hoped to God she was doing the right thing. 

“There’s a carnival thing going on later tonight. Would you like to accompany me there? We could make a night of it.” Desiree smiled bashfully at Ama who had her robe tied tightly against her, a huge grin on her face. 

“Of course. Text me?” Ama replied and Desiree nodded, giving her a finger wave before shutting her room door. 

The entire way up to her room, Ama could not stop giggling. She stopped fucking with men because the orgasm gap started to get a little too large and somewhere along the line, she became a hermit. She hadn’t stopped to think about sex or how she planned to break off the bout of celibacy, but boy was she glad it happened with Desiree. 

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