Written By Nyambura
“It feels like tears falling from my eyes,” he tells me when he is pulling out.
As I absorb those words, I keep looking at him. He has wonderful eyes. They are a deep shade of brown, coupled with thick eyebrows and moist eyelashes. At this moment, he is so handsome that I could eat him. That thought makes me laugh out loud, and he starts up in amusement. I also wouldn’t want to be doing anything else at 3:54 am on a Saturday night, with dim yellow, orange, and red streetlights illuminating my bedroom through the sheer curtains, naked in bed, leaning on one side, watching him watch me as he nuzzles his head on my shoulder while his wet dick leaves trails of cum along my thighs.
I feel so relaxed, like a cat that is next to a fire, warm, cozied up, and poised, and outside it is raining and cold. “I missed this,” I tell him. He asks me, what? I tell him the way I feel. Being held in bed, the post-orgasmic feeling after sex, and receiving the ‘after-sex’ care. The deep, affectionate kisses, gentle touches on my thighs, the intimate separation of our bodies, and all.
He cuddles closer and places his forehead on mine and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him. At this moment, I could care less about tomorrow or literally any other thing, yet I have so many things to worry about. The whole night we have been having sex; he has been steady in maintaining eye contact, and I haven’t looked at anything else apart from this piece of manhood next to me.
He then asks me, “What if your neighbours heard us? You were pretty loud. Is the dick that good?”
If I’m being honest, this is one of the good dicks that I have had in a while. I just loved how he felt inside me. I could feel the inches deep in my belly. I could feel the pulsations, the throbbing, and the heat it was leaving inside my body. I could feel every nerve on my skin alert to the trail of sensation he was leaving on my body. I love how he watched me the whole time and how he would lean up to tell me to watch it while he pushed in and out. I love how he clenched my body with grit when he was cumming, and I already want to do this again.
I say, “Well, it could be better.” He bursts into spontaneous laughter, and I laugh with him. This is nice, I think.
Then he asks me, “What is your greatest fetish?”. “Hmm, I would want to have sex in public. In public, yes, but hidden. A place where we can easily get caught.” I tell him without skipping a beat. I think a little bit more after that and tell him how hot it would make me feel if somebody was secretly watching us, and they were turned on.
Between us, I feel his dick starting up again, and something clenches below my belly in anticipation that we still could do this again tonight. As much as I love how he responds easily to me, I am so sore. And my joints are already hurting since I have been bent in all positions since this passion-filled night began. But I know he’ll probably be gentle with me; he listens.
Then he tells me to tell him how I would like him to handle me in my public fantasy;
‘I’d probably be in a short balloon dress, preferably pink for my girly sense, and we would be seated at a public bench. Probably in the evening, that precious moment when the sun is setting and the dark is almost shrouding the night, during the transition. You pull me to sit on you; in a way a passerby would think it’s just two lovers longing to be as close as possible to each other. But my balloon dress would have shifted to cover us, and my ass and pussy would easily be accessible to you.
In the moment, I know your dick would definitely get hard, and subtly, I would reach for it, slowly rubbing before I deftly free it, shift slightly, and put it inside my wet self. I know I would be wet because you make me fucking wet. You know how there’s like a prurient and lascivious energy between us that we can’t seem to quench? I’d ride on that.
I would close my eyes as you fill me up, and I know every nerve in my body would respond to your mere presence inside me. I know this position would be a little uncomfortable and complicated, but I guess we’d figure it out. Then you would whisper in my ears, gruffly, that we are in public, and I shouldn’t make the noises I like making when we are in the bedroom. Then I would say yes and move up, while your hand, inside the balloon dress, would hold down my thighs to contain my movements as you start to grind.’
By now, his dick is full mast, and he is staring at me keenly, his eyes slightly closed, and heavy breaths escaping through his lips. I reach between us to touch him, and he closes his eyes fully, pushing himself into my palm, and his hand spreads to my erect nipples and presses. I can feel the wetness dripping from me again, and since we are lying side by side, I try to place his dick to my entrance; it is hot, throbbing, steady.
I will him to push it in, even as he says, “Baby, that is so hot,” and I whine as I continue my fantasy.
‘Yes, baby, and while I sit on you on the bench, someone comes to ask whether the space next to us is occupied. You don’t stop grinding, and by that time, your hand, the one that was holding down my thighs, has found a way inside between my thighs, and you are massaging my clit. All I can do to suppress my moans is to open my eyes and watch the darkness slowly descend and marvel as the first star lights up in the velvety black sky, because otherwise I will scream at the audacity of what we are doing.
I don’t know what you tell the stranger since I am facing the opposite side, but I guess they proceed to sit on the other side of the bench, and your grinding escalates with a sense of urgency. I press my hands that are wrapped around your neck, and my nails pinch into your skin. While inside, I feel the crescendo building and about to burst. My pussy clings to your dick, and I feel my toes clenching in anticipation of cumming. You go harder, baby, pressing harder and deeper, and I know it is time.’
Escaping the fantasy, he suddenly pushes inside, intruding my train of thought, and literally fucks me, telling me how naughty I am. He lifts my leg and wraps it across his waist and starts to push in and pull out in sweet intervals. The wet sounds escaping from us are such a turn-on, and we moan into each other’s mouths while we move with each other in this iridescent dance of the violent consumption we are having of each other. Outside, I hear the faint sounds of the rain beginning to fall, synchronising with the rhythm of our lovemaking—slow, intentional, picking up the tempo, intensifying. My hands wrap his head, and I allow myself to let go, to feel the deep clenches in my stomach, to enjoy the sound of the rain, to enjoy his movements, to feel licentious.
Steadily, we pick up a rhythm, lavishing on each other as the climax builds up, and I feel every part of my body clenching, anticipating the feeling that makes my whole body float, giving me an ethereal feeling of pleasure. I hear him grunt and quicken his moves, and he goes rigid, releasing himself inside my pussy, which clenches deliciously as I let go, squeezing him of his every last drop.
***
Our breaths slow down, just as the rain subsides outside, and with my eyes closed, I feel his heartbeat de-escalating. Still inside me, he softens and pulls out wetly, slumps beside me, and turns me so he can smooch behind me.
Sometimes, I get a pang when someone mentions their floating early days of love—the headiness, the thrill, the bubble of invincibility. This feeling, him like this, seems like the beginning of that magic.
