Tag Archives: Black erotica

Healing – By Sophia Ned-James

I have to give credit where credit is due. Royce* has proven, once again, that settling down with him was the best decision I’ve made in a long time. Ladies, don’t fall for the Okey-Doke! Your man may be puttin’ it down in the bedroom, may be fun to hang with and may even be helping you out financially. But if he isn’t capable of using his love to heal you when you need it, then he isn’t getting the whole job done!

I recently went through a devastating, life-changing experience: the sudden death of a close friend. I mean, I was knocked flat on my ass with this one. I’m talking weeks of ugly crying, regular screaming fits and random acts of violence against whatever glassware was handy. Your girl embraced grieving like it was chocolate: I consumed it and it consumed me. This came close to breaking me.

Royce not only stayed with me during my darkest moments, but by really helping me to begin my healing process. He didn’t try to subdue my grief. On the contrary, when I shattered glass after glass in anguish, he just swept up the pieces and purchased new glasses. When I screamed until my throat was raw, he gave me tea with lemon & honey. He combed my hair when I hadn’t touched it for days. He fed me even after I swore I’d never eat again. He put up with my morning breath, uncombed hair, and snotty nose and called me beautiful in a way that made me believe him. And he knew exactly when, where and how I needed to be touched.

Y’all, that man’s touch was a soothing balm! It was better than the Benadryl I used to help me fall asleep! It was better than the whiskey he’d sometimes slip into my tea!

Whether it was his hand on the small of my back at the funeral, telling me he’d never leave my side; his tight grip on my hand right before I got up to eulogize my friend, reminding me to look at him when I felt lost or afraid while I spoke; or the gentle hands that held my face as he kissed my tears; Royce’s touch got me through the worst few weeks of my life.

And he knew exactly when I needed to be touched intimately, and to allow our bodies to do what they do best. He’d been so patient during my bereavement, never making any demands on me at all. But somehow he knew when the time was right.

We were at his place. It was nighttime. He was watching the game in his den. Exhausted, I took a long shower, turned off the lights and climbed into his bed. The television was on, but muted. Pandora was playing 90s R&B softly. I was emotionally and physically drained, but restless.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I felt was Royce’s body behind mine. Actually, the first thing I felt was his big ol’ dick poking me in my back. I expected to be irritated because sex was the last thing on my mind since losing my friend. But then I felt his soft kisses on my neck, and his warm breath made me shiver. And for the first time in weeks, my body responded with something other than sadness or anger.

You’d think that Royce would be tentative with me, a little hesitant at least. But he wasn’t. He boldly kissed and stroked my body knowingly, as if he dared me to resist. How did he know I need this, I asked myself. How could he possibly know, when I didn’t even know myself?

He was patient, but persistent. I didn’t feel rushed, but there was no stopping the inevitable. And surprisingly, I was ready.

Fully aroused, I surprised Royce when I quickly flipped him onto his back. Before he could utter a word, I kissed him even harder than he’d kissed me. And then I climbed on top of him, rubbing myself shamelessly against his muscled thigh.

He got the hint and shifted us so that I was right on top of his throbbing cock. I moaned the moment my clit made contact with it. But I didn’t let him enter me. Instead, I roughly knocked his hands away and made my way up to his face. Carefully planting my knees on either side of his head, I paused. I don’t know. I guess I wanted his permission.
I watched his eyes, which seemed to sparkle in the television light. I didn’t have to wait long for my answer. He roughly grabbed my ass and pulled me onto his face. His attack on my re-awakened pussy was so fierce, I had to hold onto the headboard for support.

He didn’t waste any time with niceties and subtleties. He ate me like a starving man. For the first time in far too long, I gave into the intense pleasure of his mouth and tongue.

It felt exquisite! It felt sublime! It felt so good that in no time at all, I had a powerful orgasm that left me breathless. I was barely coherent when I slid off of his face and onto the bed beside him. He quickly pulled me into his arms for a tight embrace.

When I could finally speak, I whispered “How did you know I needed that?”

“I know you,” he answered, stroking my back.

I quickly recovered. Pulling him on top of me, I welcomed his weight. He felt whole and real and alive. I was almost desperate to touch every inch of him. So I rubbed and squeezed and grabbed every part of him I could reach.

When he finally entered me, I felt filled in a way that’s difficult to describe. It’s almost as if every stroke rubbed away some of my sadness. He was gentle, but his strokes were powerful. He pulled me into his rhythm effortlessly. And even though I wanted it to last forever, I was anxious to make him cum.

Sex is always great with Royce. But this was something different. It was more than pleasurable, it was healing. I didn’t just feel good, I felt better.

I can’t explain it, y’all. All I can tell you is that my man’s moves that night changed something inside me. It’s like his dick was a weapon knocking out the grief that had occupied my body and spirit. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. Making love to Royce that night helped me begin to heal.

Now y’all know your girl Sophia is no stranger to the benefits of amazing sex. But until now, I’d never experienced healing sex. I highly recommend it, ladies. I hope that each and every one of you finds someone who will do for you what Royce did for me. Not just the sex, but all of it. Like I said, dude was my rock!

So seek ye a king who will slay your demons with his dick! But be careful. That’s the kind of shit that’ll get you sprung!

*Royce is my man’s internet name. I keep his government name between us for obvious reasons.
Photo Credits: sirsplayground.tumblr.com, 25.media.tumblr.com, haightashburyco.tumblr.com

FaceTime – By Sophia Ned-James

As a thick girl (fluffy, phat, plump … you know, NOT skinny), I’ve always been very self-conscious about sitting on a man’s face.  I mean, y’all already know Sophia loves to be pleasured orally, but it takes real confidence to be my size and actually sit on someone’s face!


You thought the title meant Facetime, as in Apple products and iPhones?

Nope!  In Sophia’s world, there’s only one kind of Facetime, and that involves me sitting on one!

Anyway, I’ve always been self-conscious about sitting on a guy’s face because I’m so not skinny.  In the back of my mind, I’m always worried about suffocating some poor dude while he pleasures me, and not realizing it until I’m done.  I know that sounds creepy, but such is life for us non-skinny types.

That never stopped me from sitting on the occasional face, though.  Especially if the guy requested it.  But, I was never really comfortable doing it until recently.

Royce* is a huge fan of Facetime, always after me to climb on up there and enjoy.  But, I’ve been thick my whole life.  And those insecurities that come with all this abundance run deep.  No matter how much he reassured me, I was always a reluctant participant.

That’s starting to change, though.  And it’s not just because I have a man who constantly compliments my body and tells me I’m sexy.  Sure, that helps.  But the real change has been within my own mind.

Like everyone else, my mind was colonized to subscribe to Euro-centric standards of beauty which have nothing to do with how I (or people like me) really look.  I’d been brainwashed into hating my thick thighs and fat ass, even as white women injected their bodies with poisons to achieve what I have naturally.

But I’ve worked hard to de-colonize my thinking when it comes to my looks, especially my weight.  As I’ve evolved into a woman I’m proud to be, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of all my assets, even the ones that jiggle.

Especially the ones that jiggle.

Cuz I do jiggle.

A lot.

Sure, I need to lose weight and exercise for health reasons.  But what I’m not gon’ do is beat myself up because I’m not a size six.  And I’m certainly not going to restrain my sex life based on what my bathroom scale says.

Life is too short and sex is too fun!

So, Royce had been out of town for work for a few weeks, and I missed him terribly.  We spoke on the phone every night and had lots of hot, steamy phone (and Skype actual Facetime) sex.  But it just wasn’t the same.

The day he travelled home, we sent at least 100 sexy texts, describing all the dirty things we wanted to do to each other.  During one of our last exchanges, I texted him this:

“I plan on spending a lot of time sitting on your face when I see you!”

He didn’t respond right away, which worried me.  At first I thought maybe he was on the plane and had to turn off his phone.  But as more time passed without a response, I started to panic.  Those old insecurities started to creep back into my head.  Am I too fat to sit on his face?  Why the fuck isn’t he texting back?

Finally, he called.  From the sounds in the background, I could tell he was at the airport.

“Your last text,” he began.

Nervously, I answered.  “Yeah?”

“Sophia, you don’t know how happy that made me!  You know I love when you sit on my face, but you almost never want to do it.”

“It’s because …”

He didn’t let me finish.  “I know why, Baby.  That’s why I’m so glad you’re comfortable enough with me to actually want to do it.  I can’t wait to see you.  I’m gonna keep you on my face forever!”

When Royce finally got to my place, we barely talked, saying only what was absolutely necessary to get naked and busy.  After a couple of frenzied rounds of some epic fucking, Royce finally held me to my word.

“You said you’d sit on my face, Baby,” he reminded me.  But I was tired.  And honestly?  I was pretty satiated, too.

He wasn’t having it, though.  So, like I’d promised, I rode his face for a long time, slowly letting him lick and suck me back to the brink of ecstasy.  It was so good the way he made my pleasure ebb and flow.  We moaned in harmony as my passion mounted, and he gradually brought me closer and closer to my peak.

I think I warned him before my explosion hit, but I can’t be sure.  At that point, I could no longer hear or see or even taste.  All I could do was feel and it felt exquisite.  And when I finally fell over the edge, everything went blank.

They say that there’s nothing sexier than a confident woman.  To be full-bodied and sexually confident is truly liberating.  My hope for you is that you’re able to love the skin you’re in, too.  And that you get to enjoy as much Facetime as you want!

*Royce isn’t his government name, ya know.  Names and details are always changed to protect our privacy.

Photo Credits: Blackandcurvy.tumblr.com

(Originally published on TheSexySingleMommy.net)




This was me last night …

Oh!  I can’t help it.  I moan loudly when he gets his first few licks in.  The way he both licks and pulls my clit between his lips at the same time always drives me crazy.  It’s better than good … it’s amazing!

Somehow, this man can read my body like a book and knows exactly what I need.  He’s attentive that way, always able to make me tremble with pleasure.

I can already tell this little venture is going to be quick.  Normally, he’d tease me and make it last awhile.  He says he could go down on me for hours, and usually I’d let him.

But tonight he knows how badly I need this and decides not to make me suffer.  I need to cum so bad I can taste it, and he gladly obliges.  His tongue is relentless, a little rough even.  And I love it … every single stroke!

He doesn’t seem to mind when I grab his head and grind harder against his face.  I’m really losing control now, pumping so hard, my hips lift completely off the bed.  I can feel my orgasm coming, and it’s going to be huge.  I hope I don’t hurt him.  Then again, I don’t really care.

And then he does it: this thing where he flicks his tongue on my exact spot with just the right amount of pressure.  Yes, right there!  He does it again and again until finally …I explode!

The next thing I know, I’m floating on a cloud of pleasure, feeling weightless and free.

By the time my heart rate returns to normal, he’s suited up in a condom and ready to go.  Without him having to say a word, I already know what he wants.  I roll over and get on my knees, smiling at his reaction to seeing my ass.  He has a thing for my ass … always rubbing on it and squeezing it.  That’s why I know he’s ready to hit it from the back.  He likes to watch it jiggle.

I’m still a little tender from his mouth, so I gasp when he first enters me.  But our bodies go so well together my pussy fits him like a glove.  It feels good being filled up by him … so good!  But I’m more concerned about his pleasure than mine right now.

He likes it when I wiggle my ass and tease him.  I do so now, and he rewards me with a little slap on my ass … once, twice and yes!  A third time!  The sound of his hand on my flesh along with that biting sting does the trick for me.  The potent mixture of pleasure and pain go straight to my head and now I’m just as aroused as he is.

I try to quicken our pace, throwing it back against him a little faster.  But he’s not having it.

“Uh-uh,” he says, slapping my ass a little harder this time.  “I want to do this nice and slow.”  And he grabs my hips to better control our pace.

Dropping my shoulders, I submit to his calm and steady rhythm.  I relax and relish how good his dick feels moving slowly in and out of me.  I slide my knees a little wider and arch my back.  This allows him to go even deeper and it feels amazing.  And when I grind my hips just a little bit each time he thrusts, I can feel his balls bump against my clit.  It’s just enough pressure to drive me mad, reigniting that familiar urgency to cum.

But I want to make him feel good this time.  So I try to put my own pleasure out of my mind and move the way he likes.  But it’s no use.  He’s picked up the pace just enough now, and my clit is almost fully engaged.  I want to warn him that he’s getting me dangerously close to the edge, but can only manage to moan.

I try to stave off the inevitable and clutch at the bed sheets.  But my hips, pussy and clit have minds of their own and once again, I start grinding harder.  This gets me another tap on my ass, but instead of slowing me down, it only pushes me closer to my peak.

He’s getting close too, though.  I can tell by his moans and by the fact that he’s added a little twist to his hip movements.  The knowledge that I make him feel so good turns me on even more.

And now he’s pumping even harder, slamming into my pussy with so much force I almost bump my head on the headboard.  His hands grip my hips tighter and again that juxtaposition of pain and pleasure is so good, I could scream.  I want this good feeling to last, but at the same time I can’t wait to reach my end.

What I want doesn’t matter, though.  He has complete control over my body and there’s no stopping what’s about to happen.  I’m dizzy with arousal.  He grunts and thrusts harder, hitting every single one of my sensitive spots.  And then suddenly, a powerful orgasm rips through my body sending me flying into the clouds once again.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I sense when he cums.  And by the time my head clears, we’re lying beside each other on the bed panting like we’ve just completed a marathon.  I’m on my stomach and my vision is a little blurry.  He smiles as he reaches over and gently rubs my tender ass.

“Was I too rough?”  His voice is a little hoarse.  “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” I answer.  I’m too drowsy to say anything else.  The last thing I remember is being pulled into his arms as I drift off to sleep.

Photo Credits: Atlanta Black Star, Pinterest, and Playbuzz,

(Revised Version 12/27/17.  Original was published on TheSexySingleMommy.net)


Lost Panties At The Pier – SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

I was going to call this post “That Time I Lost My Panties Having Sex on a Public Pier”, because that’s exactly what happened.  But that title is way too long.

So … Have you ever done it in public?  Talk about exciting!  There’s nothing like some good, old-fashioned, almost-get-caught-in-the-act public sex, y’all!

Disclaimer: Just so we’re clear: I am NOT encouraging you to break the law.  If you decide to have sex in public and get arrested, that’s on you.  Don’t waste your one phone call on me, cuz I ain’t got no bail money, and I only wear handcuffs for fun.  So before you catch a case gettin’ your freak on, carefully consider your surroundings.  And for goodness sake, make sure ain’t no kids around!

That said, you really should give public sex a try.  Honestly, I haven’t felt anything quite as thrilling as a thigh-quivering, spine-tingling orgasm in public.  The earth didn’t just move, it fell off its axis!

And yes, I really did lose my panties.

Here’s what happened:  I was with one of my favorite ex-boyfriends, Brandt*.  After spending most of the evening shooting pool with his friends in a loud bar, we found the peace and quiet of his car refreshing.  So we decided to just drive around and talk.

The conversation went from generic topics to sexy banter in no time.  Soon we found ourselves at a riverside park, making out in the car like a couple of horny teenagers.  Now it’s not as though I haven’t had my share of car sex through the years.  But, as a member of the “grown and sexy” club, there are just some things I’m a little too old (and curvy) to do anymore.

When I first suggested we leave the car to take things further, I figured we’d find a nice grassy spot near some trees or bushes.   Brandt had other ideas.  Taking me by the hand, he led me to this long pier that led a few hundred feet out into the water.  It’s a popular pier from which people fish or jump in the water to swim, etc.  At night, the lights on the pier are lit, and they’re spaced every few feet apart along its length.  But the spacing of the lampposts also creates pockets of shadows where, on a moonless night, it’s hard to see.

Luckily for us, it was a cloudy summer night, with the quarter moon only making intermittent appearances.  Brandt led us to one of the shadowy spots near the far end of the pier.  While there were no lights shining directly upon us, anyone looking hard enough could definitely see us.

I was eager, but a little nervous.  My biggest concern was lying bare-assed on a dirty old pier.  Fortunately, Brandt had grabbed a small blanket from his car, though.  Don’t you just love a man who comes prepared?

With public sex, there really isn’t time for seductive undressing.  Basically, you just get rid of any clothes that’ll get in the way.  So that’s what we did, pretty much just taking off everything from the waist down.  Very unromantic.

But as we positioned ourselves on the blanket, the thrill of what was about to happen got me excited again.  The cool breeze from the river felt good in the humid air, tickling my skin.  And even in the waning moonlight, Brandt’s chocolate, sculpted body looked amazing.

Brandt quickly took the lead and after kissing and stroking me a little, he headed downtown.  The reason Brandt is one of my favorite exes is because dude could literally teach a Masters-level course on eating pussy.  He’s so good, he probably has “superior pussy eating” listed on his Linkedin profile.

Usually, Brandt takes his time licking me and always makes me cum at least twice.  But since we were outside on a public pier, we didn’t have that luxury.  He went down there on a mission, aggressively taking command of my pleasure and had me writhing in no time.

You know how sound travels farther at night?  Well, anyone on that end of the river certainly got an earful that night.  I couldn’t help it!  Brandt’s tongue was on fire!  And lying there, half-naked and exposed was thrilling!  So, yeah, I got loud.

But before I could cum, Brandt flipped us so that I was on top.  Oh, what a glorious ride!  The breeze, the lapping water beneath us, and the thrill of possibly being seen … it all added up to HOT!  I rode that thick, throbbing dick of his hard and fast, and didn’t even try to stifle my screams and moans.  And since Brandt is such a gentleman, he made sure I came before he did.  But he was loud as hell, too.

I was so spent from my orgasm, I barely even noticed my scraped knees.  If it had been possible, I would’ve fallen right to sleep.  But, one major downfall to having public sex is that there’s no time to bask in the afterglow or cuddle.  We had to hurry and get dressed before we got caught.

Only one problem:  I couldn’t find my panties anywhere!

We were already pushing our luck, so I had no choice but to finish dressing without them.  It wasn’t until we were leaving the pier that we noticed my panties floating in the water below us.  Somehow, in the heat of passion, we’d knocked my panties right into the river!  We laughed so hard, we could barely walk back to the car.

I realize how lucky Brandt and I were not to get caught.  But that night it will go down as one of my best sex-capades, ever!

What about you?  Have you ever done it in public?  Do tell!

Photo Credit: beautifulinsideandout.1992.blogspot.com

*Brandt isn’t his government name, of course.

Sophia Ned-James is the pseudonym for a Metro Detroit-based freelance writer, blogger, and novelist.  Committed to writing fantasy and erotica in ways which celebrate all women, Sophia seeks to provide a safe place for women to explore and own their sexuality without judgment or shame.   To keep up with all of Sophia’s escapades, be sure to like her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/sophiasizzles and follow her on Twitter at @sophianedjames.

Bzzz… Here Comes Heaven

You thought all you needed in your pleasure chest was rubbers and ITunes? Naaah, chile. This is a journey. Pleasure is about you, first and foremost, so an essential part of the pleasure chest is something that can add value even when you’re the only one in the room. When you don’t want to cuddle, you don’t want to get up to put the condom in the trash or to get a washcloth to wipe cum off your thighs, you don’t want to be asked if you came, you don’t want to have to think about, hear from, or feel up anyone else. You just want to be Beyoncé circa 2003: “It’s Just Me, Myself & I.” An essential part of the pleasure chest is the relationship you have with yourself.

A lot of women who don’t orgasm simply don’t know how to get there. They have an idea from movies and books so they know that someone touching their clitoris is sorta kinda the way to get the big boom but they haven’t figured out exactly how they want their clit touched. So they try to guide a partner but they are a little lost themselves. That won’t do for us here at Suzyknew. We’re going to have so much self-pleasure this 2017 we’ll get carpal tunnel. We’re going to have a “come-to-Jesus moment” where we come in Jesus’s name because our orgasms will be holy and anointed and sent from heaven.

So we’re going to start with touching ourselves. Not just our vaginas. We’re going to take our clothes off and touch every inch of our bodies, slowly. We’re going to caress our nipples; does that feel good? Is rubbing them with my thumb where the magic happens? Do I like it more when I pinch them between my fingers? Does tugging on them gently get me wetter? Does caressing the inside of my thighs feel good? Is rubbing my feet against the sheet making me lightheaded? We’re going to figure out where all our spots are. Then we’re going to head to the promised land. We’re going to touch every inch of that honeypot. Inner lips, outer lips, clitoris, vagina… not one inch of that coochie is going to escape. We’re going to touch ourselves in every different kind of way we can imagine and pay attention to what feels good. Once we hit a spot we’ll rinse repeat till the magic happens. Some of us don’t like the feeling right before an orgasm because it feels like we are going to pee or fart but believe me when I say it’s not that kind of party. We just have to keep going when that feeling hits. Paradise is close. We just need to let go of some of the control.

Some people like masturbating with their hands, some like a battery-operated-boyfriend. If a vibrator feels good to you I can’t recommend them enough. I would suggest though, that before you get a vibe you do lots of touching to figure out what you like. Unless of course you can afford to just get a bunch of vibes and try them out until you find a favorite. But if you ain’t ballin’ like that and you want to get the right one it helps to know which vibrator replicates the stuff that gets you off.

My journey to the perfect vibrator was not so smooth. I got a standard slim vibrator the first time. It was okay but then I realized something: I had my best orgasms when I had both penetration and clitoral stimulation at the same time. The clitoral stimulation needed to be targeted so it couldn’t just be from the length of the vibrator. I discovered that a rabbit vibrator, which has a shaft that goes inside and then an extended nub that massages the clitoris at the same time, was probably my best bet. Eight years and $500 later I have my current soul mate the Lelo Ina II. Isn’t she pretty?

Vibrators come in all kinds and what you choose really depends on what you’re into. In addition to rabbit vibrators like the Lelo Ina there are clitoral massagers which focus entirely on the clit. Clitoral massagers can use batteries, or be plugged into an outlet. A popular one is the Hitachi Magic Wand which is supposed to pack one hell of a punch.

There are also egg or bullet vibrators which are small and usually discreet. They focus entirely on the clit as well. Some of them are shaped like everyday things: a tube of lipstick, a rubber ducky, EOS lip balm etc. They usually come with batteries and there are fancy ones which come with remote controls so a partner can use it on you. Egg and bullet vibrators are usually a little less powerful than massagers.

A variation of the egg or bullet vibrator is a pocket rocket, which instead of being smooth has bulges, nubs and ridges on one end.

There are also dual-pronged clitoral vibes which straddle your clit on either side:

Dildo-shaped vibrators are also a popular choice. Some of them are double-ended so they can be used for both vaginal and anal insertion at the same time.  They look like the real thing and can even come in flesh-colored tones.

Some people swear by G-spot vibrators, which have a long shaft with a distinct curve and a soft jelly-like coating. They are designed to hit your G-spot when they are inserted.

For people who like butt play there are anal vibrators. Some of them look like butt plugs that vibrate and others look like a traditional vibe with a flared bass or bent handle so they don’t get lost in the rectum.

There are also butterfly vibrators, which strap around your waist for hands-free clitoral stimulation.

For couples, there are vibrating cockrings, which are jelly-like rings with small vibrators at the front. The man wears the ring around his penis and it buzzes on your clit when he is inside you.

There are also couples toys, which are designed to be used when the penis is inside you. One side is inserted and vibrates against the roof of the vagina and on top of the man’s penis while the other side sits on top of the vagina and vibrates against it.The thing that makes a good vibe or a good finger technique such an important part of the pleasure chest is that it doesn’t only have to be done alone. You can use a vibrator on your clit while you’re getting it from behind. You can finger yourself while someone sucks on your nipples. Same sex female couples who use vibes find that the possibilities are endless, and contrary to popular belief there are guys who don’t mind incorporating them into the action with you. Though cockrings and couple’s vibes specifically cater to two people at the same time, you can incorporate any type of vibe into sex. Guys like sensations too and holding your vibrator underneath their balls while you give them head has proven to be a very good strategy in 98% of households surveyed.

My quest to pleasure myself has led me to places and taught me things that are beyond my wildest imagination. I’ve discovered I like things I didn’t ever think I would like. I would probably never have figured out that I liked those things if it was just up to me and a partner because my stated dislike for them would have left him reluctant to try them. But just sitting up in my room like Brandy, lovingly touching my junk gave me some important epiphanies about whether I liked a finger up my butt. My quest to find the perfect rabbit vibe even taught me I wasn’t quite as up-to-snatch on my vagina-ology as I thought. Though I knew everything about all the coochie parts, and was aware that every vagina was a special and unique flower, something I would never have found out if I wasn’t a masturbator was that for every woman the distance between the vaginal opening and the clitoris is different. Same for the vaginal hole and the anus. Before that, I spent over $200 dollars on a rabbit vibe that did nothing for me because the distance between the shaft and the rabbit part didn’t match my anatomy. So the rabbit kept overshooting the most sensitive part of my clit and could never sit right or vibrate in a way that I liked. I went on some message boards and found women with the same problem and eureka, it dawned on me. Masturbation gave me scientific knowledge, y’all. Masturbation made me smarter. Won’t He do it, if you let him? I tell you, masturbation makes the world a better place. So it’s kinda sad that there is no “I” in “pleasure.” There really should be. Cos if you allow yourself to explore and discover, there will be.

F.N. is a thirty something Ghanaian free-lance writer who alternates between living in Accra and Washington, DC.


Old Flame, New Beard – SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

Last night I broke The Women’s Sexual Code of Conduct Rule #46, Section F, Sub-Section ii: Never, EVER, hook up with an ex who broke your heart!  Because even if you hit it and manage to escape with your heart intact, you’re STILL gonna regret it later.

Now I can always justify even the most random sexual encounters, as long as they’re consensual.  But getting back into bed with someone who already broke your heart?  Even I can’t justify doing that.

Well, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but last night I hooked up with a guy who broke my heart years ago.

“What Had Happened Was …”

Not that I’m making excuses (okay, maybe I am), but this whole thing only happened because of a new beard and brown liquor!

I’d just finished a very productive meeting with a client at a new downtown bistro, during which I’d abstained from alcohol.  I’d learned the hard way not to mix drinking with business, but that’s another story for another day.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself after my client left, so I decided to stay and treat myself to a slice of Key Lime pie.  What I didn’t realize was that my ex-boyfriend Dante* had been sitting at the bar the entire time.

Dante’s not his real name, of course.  But it’s the name I have him listed under on my phone, even though I know damn well I need to delete his triflin’ ass.  Think Dante’s Inferno.  Now picture whatever you imagine Hell to be.  That was my life with this guy.  I went thru Hell with him.  Then I went thru Hell trying to get over him!  But that was a long time ago.  I’ve run into him a handful of times over the years, and while I doubt we’ll ever be friends, we’re at least cordial.

So there I was, eagerly anticipating my pie, when Dante walks up to me and says “Hi, Sophia.”

Yeah, I was surprised to see him.  But what had me sitting there, a forkful of pie halfway to my open mouth, looking like an idiot for I don’t know how many seconds was Dante’s beard!

Dante’s a nice enough looking guy.  He may be an asshole, but he is handsome in that clean-cut, looks-like-the-kind-of-guy-your-mom-would-want-you-to-marry kind of way.  But in all the years I’d known him, he’d always been clean-shaven.

Well, now he has a face full of hair!  And it looks really good on him!

When I recovered from the shock of seeing him, I did the polite thing and asked him join me.  I didn’t think he’d accept though, convinced he’d do the polite thing and decline.

But, Dante sat his ass down and ordered me my favorite drink: Jack and Diet Coke.  (Don’t judge.  I honestly like the way it tastes.)


That beard, tho!

I don’t know if it was my good mood, the sugar rush from the pie or the calming effect of whiskey, but I found myself actually enjoying Dante’s company for the first time in many years.  He’s naturally charming, and if you ignore the deplorable way he treated me years ago, he’s fun company.

I was halfway through my second drink when I found myself obsessing about his beard and how it would feel against my thighs … which, of course, got me remembering how good he was at giving head.

Dante’s tongue game was always strong.  He knew it, too.  He was cocky about it, and with good reason.  Dude ate pussy like a champ.  He was so good that even now, if I’m struggling to cum, I’ll conjure up memories of him down there doing his thing to help me get there.

So, he’s talking and I’m staring at his beard, trying to calculate exactly how I’d position my thighs to best feel the tickle of those thick, coarse whiskers.  And I’m drinking and getting hornier by the second. Of course it doesn’t take long for Dante to pick up on my mood.

“Whatchu thinking about, with that naughty look on your face?”

I’m thinking about “what that mouf do” and about that sexy-ass beard, I thought to myself.  But he already knew.

Less than 10 minutes later, I’m in my car, following him to his house, where he has more Jack Daniels.  And a bed.

Look.  I knew when I got in my car that I had no business messing around with Dante again.  Not that I was worried about getting my heart broken … that wasn’t going to happen, because what I wanted from Dante had nothing to do with my heart or his.

Besides, my heart is spoken for … kind of.  Remember Royce**?  My boyfriend?  Well, we’re sort of on a “break”.  Again, that’s a story for another day.  Suffice it to say, I wasn’t technically cheating on Royce. Royce is still Bae.

Anyway, I’m over Dante.  He no longer has any power to hurt me.  However, he may not see it that way, since I was currently driving 80 mph on I-75 for a chance to ride his face again.  The thought of what this was doing to his already huge ego was almost enough to make me turn around and take my ass home.


Dude can really eat some pussy.  Plus, the beard.

More Liquor (or “Lick Her”)!

Why bother with pretense and pleasantries when we both knew why I was there?  Dante grabbed two glasses and a fifth of Jack from his bar.  I grabbed the ice bucket, and we headed straight to his bedroom.  He’d redecorated since I was last there, so to make small talk, I complimented him on his new furniture.

But that thick, kinky thigh tickler had me thinking all the nasty thoughts!  Two strong, but quick drinks later, I was grinding on that sexy beard like a maniac.  It felt damn good, too!  Holding on to the headboard as I rode his face, I kept my thighs opened just wide enough for the hair on his face to gently scratch me.  Sometimes I’d grind harder, and my legs would automatically open wider.  But then I slowed down so I could feel his beard again.

Between those prickly whiskers and that brilliant mouth of his, I came twice in mere minutes, and was immediately ready to leave!  But, knowing that would be rude and genuinely grateful for the orgasms, I did the right thing and reciprocated, sucking his mediocre dick like the cool chick I am.  Thankfully he also finished quickly.

And here’s where the regret kicked in … one look at that cocky, satisfied look on Dante’s face and I wanted to erase the last hour!  I could tell that he thought I was still into him and that this latest escapade was a “win” for him.  And as much as I wanted to make it perfectly clear that for me, it was all about that beard and too much brown liquor, I didn’t even have the energy play that game.  It mattered that little to me.

To add insult to injury, I was too tipsy to drive.  So now I was stuck at this arrogant jerk’s house for at least a couple of hours and he really thinks I’m feeling him.  Ugh!

Well, it didn’t make sense to waste a perfectly good beard and tongue, so after a few minutes of rest and awkward small talk, I climbed right back up on Dante’s face!  I figured hey, if I gotta endure dude’s company until the whiskey wears off, I might as well get something out of it!

Was I wrong, though?  Anyway, Rule #46 still stands: stay away from guys who’ve hurt you in the past.

Still, beards.


Photo Credits:  Instagram.com and juergenland.tumblr.com

*Again, not his government name, but it’s the perfect pseudonym for this dude.

**Also not his government name. 

SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA: That Good Ol’ “Act Right”

My day was horrible, starting early with a boring business meeting full of boring presentations by boring, old men.  Even worse, I was wearing the under garments from Hell!  Two hours in and my Spanx failed and the underwire of my favorite bra escaped and stabbed me relentlessly in my armpit.

Thankfully, I had time between appointments to run home and change, but after 4 hours of undergarment Hell in a freezing room full of boring old men, my mood was set for the day on “Bitchy”.

Running home to change meant that I’d have to skip lunch because of course, my fridge is empty.  Bae called to check in, but I wasn’t feeling him.  All I wanted was sweatpants and a burger, but I still had appointments.  A girl’s gotta hustle, right?

Still hungry and barely civil, I walked out of my third appointment to a flat tire.  Ugh!  Food would have to wait until Triple A worked their magic.  Only now, compounded by hunger, impatience and the oh-so-timely onset of the dreaded pre-period cramps, I was in Full Blown Bitch Mode (FBBM).

Y’all know what I’m talking about, don’t you?  You may call it something else, but we’ve all been in FBBM: that point where your mood is so dark and dangerous you swear if one more fool even LOOKS at you wrong, you may end up in jail.

So by the time I got to Bae’s for dinner, I had reached the highest level of Full Blown Bitch Mode: angry, hungry, crampy and tired.  I felt bloated and ugly.  And I was mourning the loss of my favorite bra.  Because let’s face it, once that underwire pokes through, there’s really no going back.

Anyway, Bae let my evil ass in, not really knowing just how far into FBBM I was.  Had he known, he might not have opened the door (I have a key, but still like to knock when he’s home).  His house smelled like he’d been cooking for hours, and my stomach grumbled with anticipation.

The food would have to wait, though.  Less than two minutes after my arrival, Royce* could tell something was wrong.  I don’t know if it was my scowling face, the snarky way I barely responded to his kiss, or the fact that I’d started whining about my day, but he knew.

Now some men in Bae’s situation would do one of two things:

  1. Shut up, feed me quickly and pray that a good meal would chill me out; or
  2. Take my bitchy bait and let the evening devolve into a huge, unnecessary fight.

Royce chose a third option: That Good Ol’ “Act Right”.  For those of you not acquainted with this Miracle Cure for All Things Bitchy, keep reading.

We were standing in his living room and I was mid-rant.  All of a sudden, Royce yanked me into his arms and shut me up with a hard kiss.  He roughly grabbed my ass and squeezed.  I was instantly wet.

When he ended the kiss and I leaned in for more, he shook his head.  “Uh-uh,” his voice was low and raspy.  “That’s not where you need to be kissed.”

Before I could even blink, he had my jeans unzipped and at my ankles.  I braced myself on his shoulders as he knelt down and helped me step out of my shoes, jeans and panties.  Then still kneeling, he pushed me roughly onto his plush sofa and pulled my legs onto his shoulders.

This is where you need to be kissed.”

I started to speak as he lowered his head, but the look in his eyes made me stop.  He said, “I don’t want to hear you say shit else until you’re begging me to let you cum.”

From the first lick of his magnificent tongue, I was putty in his hands.  Y’all already know my Royce can lick some pussy.  I’ve written about it before: how he takes his time and reads my responses … he’s the Real MVP when it comes to giving head.

Maybe it was the tension of the day or Bae’s complete mastery of my clitoris, but it wasn’t long before I felt that sweet build-up of pressure.  I needed to cum, and knowing how good Royce can lick pussy, I just knew my bliss was near.

I was wrong.

Royce wasn’t playing when he said he wanted me to beg for release.  Dude played my body like a fiddle, taking me to the brink and then pulling back before I could get there.  He kept licking me to a frenzy and then would stop, leaving me panting at the edge.  He kept this up until I actually begged him to let me cum.

But he wasn’t ready, though.  Instead of ending my torture, he stood up, flipped me over and slammed his thick dick into me from behind so fast my head spun.  And then he started slapping my ass just hard enough to give me that sweet little sting that I love so much.

“I’mma let you cum, Baby,” he assured thrusting harder.  My face was practically buried in the sofa cushions and I could barely breathe.  But his dick felt so good and was going so deep, I didn’t even care.

He continued his barrage of smacks and dirty talk.  “But you can’t cum just yet, Sophia.  Unh-uh.  You need to take this dick and wait.  Wait for me to tell you when to cum!”

Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled.  The force made me arch my back, letting him go even deeper.  My arousal spiked and once again, I was at the brink.

But Bae still didn’t let me cum.  Without any warning, he pulled out and backed away from me.  When I turned to look, he was watching me, stroking himself hard.  He smacked my ass again before pulling me to my feet.  My legs were like jelly.

“It’s time for you to take a ride on your dick”, he said, sitting down.  Then he pulled me onto his lap and onto that glorious cock of his.  Ladies, y’all know there ain’t nothing that feels quite as good as when you first climb onto your man’s hard, throbbing dick!

Relieved, I started bouncing and grinding my way to glory.  Only once again, Royce took control.  “Don’t cum until I tell you to,” he moaned.  I kept going, though … bouncing and rocking even harder.

As good as his dick was, my nipples felt neglected.  So I and pulled one out for him to suck.  But he only gave me a few little licks and stopped.

“Please,” I begged.  “Suck it so I can cum!”

“Nope,” he panted.  “I wanna watch it bounce.”

Watching my one nipple bob and weave so close to his tempting mouth was more erotic than I could stand.  I felt sexy and wanton.  I felt dirty and naughty.  A huge orgasm was building and I was powerless to stop it.

Bae knew it, too.  Just as the first waves hit, he finally said those magic words: “Cum, Sophia.”  Then he took my nipple into his mouth, gave me two more hard slaps on my ass, and that was it.  I was cumming, screaming and crying.

Yes, crying.  I came so hard, real tears rolled down my face.  All my nerve endings tingled with electricity.  Relief was blissful.

Bae got off right after I did.

“Sorry I was so bitchy before,” I said, kissing his face gently.  I was still on his lap and he was still inside me.

“I know.” He kissed my still-exposed nipple.  As he gave my ass one final slap, he continued.  “You just needed you some of that good ol’ Act Right, that’s all.  You good now?”

I nodded.  “Oh, I’m real good!”

“Then let’s go eat!”

Dinner was great that night.  And so was my attitude.

*Royce is an alias, of course.  Gotta keep Bae’s government name a secret for his own protection!


Everywhere you look, folks are talking about being “turnt up”.  Well, turning it up is fine every once in a while.  But if you ask me, I’d rather be turned out!

No, I don’t mean turned out on drugs or by a pimp!  I mean turned out in a good way with some good, old-fashioned, mind-blowing, head-banging, thigh quivering, toe-curling, slap-yo-mama sex!

Do you remember the first guy who turned you out, sexually?  Not the first guy you slept with, because everybody talks about that one.  This isn’t about your first time.

I’m talking about the first man to take your sex game to a whole new level.  You know … the first guy who had you speaking in tongues and praying to deities you didn’t even know existed.  He’s the one who had you making those ugly faces in bed, and not caring if you sweated out your hair.

I’m talking about the one who made you get so nasty you couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards.  He had you doing things you’d only heard about and you loved it!  In fact, he probably taught you things about your own body that you’d never even imagined.  And to this day, you still get compliments on the skills you learned under his patient instruction.

Remember him?  Yeah, that’s the one.  You know exactly who I’m talking about now, don’t you?  What was his name?

Mine was Orlando*.  We met when I was young and getting over a break-up.  I wanted to enjoy my freedom, but wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.  Besides, Orlando wasn’t really my “type”.  It’s not that he was ugly or anything.  But he was a lot older than me, and seemed so serious all the time.

We met through mutual friends and I could tell he was interested right away.  But I really wasn’t feeling him.  I was young and carefree and he seemed so mature and … well, boring.

Boy was I wrong!  Boring?  Not even a little bit.  He turned my young ass all the way out!  Dude had me crawling out of my skin and climbing the walls!  And all the men I’ve been with since owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

It started at a small party.  I was in a horrible mood when I arrived because I’d just found out my ex had moved on to a new girlfriend.  Not that I wanted him back, it just sucked that he’d gotten over me so fast.

My friends insisted I go to this party just so I wouldn’t sit at home feeling sorry for myself.  So I got there pretty late and socialized just enough to not seem rude.  And then I sat at the bar to drown my sorrows.  I was on my second drink when Orlando made his move.

Maybe it was the brown liquor.  Maybe it was my crappy mood and my bruised ego.  Whatever it was, Orlando didn’t seem all that boring that night.  He was attentive without being pushy, and he even managed to make me smile.  I was surprised to find myself enjoying his company.

In hindsight, I realize Orlando played me like a fiddle.  Anyone with eyes could read my mood that night.  He just bided his time and then said all the right things.  The alcohol didn’t hurt, either.

Anyway, it didn’t take much for Orlando to convince me to go to his place that night.  Mind you, I wasn’t drunk.  I knew exactly what I was doing.  Still, driving was out of the question and I’d had just enough to be able to blame any later regrets on the alcohol.  Plus, he was doing wonders for my ego.

What followed was a night so satisfying I still fantasize about it to this day!  Orlando rocked my world from the moment we stepped into his 2nd floor apartment until my walk of shame the next morning.  I went to his place expecting nothing more than a little pick-me-up from my bad mood.  What I got instead was a lesson in all night passion and mind-blowing sex.

Orlando was so good because he was patient and attentive.  He took my body to paradise slowly, paying close attention to what worked and what didn’t.  For the first time in my young life, I was with a man who was more concerned about my pleasure than his own, and that was a revelation.  He introduced me to erogenous zones I didn’t even know existed, and made every single nerve ending in my body come alive!

He also taught me how to make a man writhe with pleasure.  He tweaked my blow job style, patiently talking me through new tricks and skills.  Because he made me feel so good, I wanted to please him.  So I was more than willing to let him guide me.

Nothing was forced or rushed.  It didn’t feel like a race to the finish.  In fact, Orlando showed me how good it can be when you delay your release, staying right at the precipice of nirvana for as long as possible.  Under his patient tutelage, I learned how to enjoy the journey to the orgasm as much as the orgasm itself.

Speaking of orgasms, that night I had several.  For the first time, I knew how it felt to be multi-orgasmic and it changed my life!  Even better, I learned how to make them last, riding wave after wave of pleasure until I was breathless and weak.

I still get chills just thinking about it.

It wasn’t about love or romance that night.  It was about pure, unbridled pleasure.  I’d grudgingly gone to a party to nurse a bruised ego and stumbled upon a generous, skillful lover who totally rocked my world.  I don’t know where Orlando is now, but I’m grateful for everything he taught me.  He truly helped make me the woman I am today.

So ladies, let’s raise a glass to our sexual Svengalis, the ones who gave us our first real taste of ecstasy.  We owe them at least that much.  After all, without their patient coaching, we wouldn’t be the sexual divas we are now, would we?

*Y’all already know that’s not his real name, right?  Names and details are always changed to protect the not so innocent!


Originally published on SexySingleMommy.net

The Other Night, Part 2 SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

I hadn’t really looked when I helped him out of his boxer-briefs.  Now, as he eased me back onto his bed, I got a better look.

I gasped.  I don’t know why it surprised me that he was so big, so thick.  If he heard my reaction, he didn’t let on … he just quietly climbed onto the bed beside me.

Pulling me into his arms, he kissed my lips, my face and then my neck.  They were soft kisses, yet insistent ones, as they moved lower until they finally landed on my breasts.  As he firmly took one of my nipples into his mouth, he moaned.

I’ll admit, there’s a part of me that was oddly detached from what was happening.  I think it was sheer disbelief that I was lying naked with the man who’d been the star of my fantasies for so long.

By the time he’d kissed, licked and sucked his way down my body, I was shivering in anticipation.  He looked up at me with those intense eyes of his and asked “Is it okay if I taste you?”

Too aroused to speak, I could only nod.  And when he lowered his head, I tensed.  Nerves, I guess.  But he was quick to calm me.

“Shhh,” he whispered, kissing me in just the right spot.  “Just relax and enjoy, Baby.  Mmmm, you taste so good!”

And then he stopped talking … and started licking … and sucking … and stroking … and before long, I was awash in pure pleasure.  My hips seemed to have a mind of their own, moving almost involuntarily.  He followed my lead, somehow knowing just when to lick a little faster here, or a little slower there.  And just as the pressure began to build, he reached up and squeezed my aching nipples into submission.

But the pleasure was so intense, he couldn’t hold them.  I arched my back, grabbed his head and pulled him even closer, as if that were even possible.  Mercifully, his tongue never let up its relentless assault on my clit.  Even as I writhed and wiggled, he kept at it, keeping the rhythm set by my trembling hips.

And then the explosion hit, taking me a bit by surprise.  Floating somewhere between paradise and ecstasy, I completely gave myself over to wave after wave of intense pleasure.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in his arms and he was watching me.  His goatee and lips were coated with my juices, which made me blush a little.  He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  That’s when I noticed how hard he was breathing.  He was aroused and barely in control.

“You good?”  His voice shook with desire.

Finally finding my voice, I answered “I’m very good!”  Emboldened by the heat in his eyes, I reached down to finally claim my prize.  I have to admit, I was a little worried … I wanted so badly to make him feel as good as I felt.

While I slowly began to stroke his big, throbbing dick with my hand, I began kissing all over that magnificent, chocolate body of his.  I teased his nipples with my tongue and got lost in those fabulous pecs and abs.  He moaned when I licked him, and hissed when I gave him a little nibble, just inside of one his muscled thighs.

Finally, I’d reached my destination.  Ladies, is there anything more beautiful than a great big, erect dick awaiting your mouth?  I think not!

As much as I wanted to ravish him quickly, I held back so I could savor it.  I kissed it.  I licked it.  I traced my tongue over every ridge and valley, circling his head like my favorite lollipop.  He enjoyed my teasing exploration … but not for long.  By the time I finally took him deep into my mouth, he was begging me to suck him.

Now it was me who followed his lead … going slower or faster based on his moans and movements.  Once I hit my stride with a nice, long stroke, using my mouth and my hands, I knew he wouldn’t last too much longer.  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched one of his hands grab and twist the bedsheets.  The other hand rested gently on the back of my head, holding me to the pace I’d set.

Closing my eyes, I settled into our rhythm, relishing the feel of his steely hardness against my tongue.  Again and again, he hit the back of my throat, and yes, I gagged a bit.  But I never stopped.  I just kept sucking and stroking, only occasionally pausing long enough to show his balls some love.

Now the hand on my head held me just a little tighter.  I gave in and let him guide me, climbing up higher onto my knees so that I could take it all in.  His moans were almost growls, and his hips began to tremble.  I picked up my pace, adding more suction action.  This drove him wild.

“I’m ‘bout to cum,” he mumbled.  But I already knew.  So I added a little more tongue action on the up-stroke and finally, he exploded with my name on his lips.  I swallowed with relish and pleasure!

Sitting comfortably beside him, and feeling quite pleased with myself, I watched as his tremors slowly subsided.  This time, when our eyes met and he smiled, his eyes smiled, too.  Wordlessly, he reached for me and pulled me back into his arms.

“You good?”  I asked, trying not to sound too smug.

Chuckling, he grinned.  “Oh, I’m real good!”

Stay tuned for the finale – Part 3 – coming soon!

The Other Night, Part 1 SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

His eyes held mine captive. “Tell me what you want,” he said. “Tell me what you need.”

“I just want you,” I whispered.

“Uh-uh,” he replied, shaking his head. Now he held my face in his hands. “Be specific. I want to know exactly what you want from me tonight.”

“Only tonight?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

“Let’s start with tonight and go from there. Okay?”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded.

He stepped even closer. But other than his hands on my face, we didn’t touch. “Now, tell me what you want and need from me.”

I closed my eyes for a moment before I answered. I just had to escape the intensity of his gaze. And while I struggled to form the right words, it occurred to me that how I responded would not only set the tone for the rest of the night, but for the rest of our relationship. So I needed to be as honest as possible.


I opened my eyes. “Yes?”

“Are you going to answer me?”


“Well …?”

And so I told him the truth. “I want you to do to my body what you’ve already done to my mind. And I don’t just want it for tonight. I want more than just one night with you.”

He smiled. “What have I done to your mind?”

“You’ve explored and challenged it. You’ve made me think about things differently, including myself.”

“And you want more than just this one night?”

“Yes. If that’s too much to ask, I’d rather know right now. Tell me now before this goes any further.”

He was quick to respond. “That’s not too much to ask. Not at all.” He released my face and took both of my hands in his. Kissing my knuckles, he continued. “So, I get to explore your body, huh?”

Blushing, I nodded. He grinned and said. “This is going to be fun. Are you sure?”

“Sure about what?”

“Are you sure about wanting to take this ‘thing’ between us to the next level? Because I don’t do flings, Sophia. I don’t do casual. If we do this, we do this right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, as much as I want to explore that delicious-looking body of yours, I don’t want to go there if all you want is sex.”

“You know that’s not all I want,” I began.

“Well, I didn’t want to presume anything.”

“You’re the one who just said we’d start with tonight and go from there.”

“That’s because I didn’t want to ask for more until I knew what you wanted.”

Now I raised our hands and kissed his knuckles. “Now you know. What happens now?”

He didn’t answer at first. I thought maybe I’d gone too far or said something wrong. He must’ve been able to read this in my expression because he said “I’m sorry. It’s just that …” Now he blushed. “When you kissed me like that, on my hands … I lost my train of thought for a second.”

He quickly recovered, though. His eyes were intense again. “What happens now is that I get to begin my exploration of your body. Now, come with me.”

Holding just one hand, he led me to his bed. I was nervous again, and he could tell. Turning to face me he softly said “Look. We’re both nervous, here. Anyone would be nervous in our situation. Why don’t we agree right now that if either one of us gets too uncomfortable we’ll stop, okay?”


And then he leaned in and softly kissed my lips. I’d daydreamed about our first kiss dozens of times, but this was better than I’d imagined. Even before our lips parted and our tongues met, I felt heat and desire in his kiss. And the deeper the kiss went, the more heat I felt.

I didn’t get to savor the heat, though. Things were happening fast. He began unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers surprisingly adept. I must’ve flinched because he suddenly stopped and ended our kiss.

“Am I moving too fast?”

I opened my eyes and met his. “No. I’m sorry …”

“It’s okay,” we were talking at the same time. Then he continued. “Let’s just both try to relax, alright?”

I nodded and took a deep breath. And this time, I leaned up to kiss him. I could feel his smile even as he kissed me back. When he started unbuttoning my shirt again, I leaned in closer.

He slid my shirt over my shoulders and as soon as it fell to the floor, I reached for his buttons. He broke our kiss and watched my hands as I nervously fumbled with his shirt. I silently wished I was as cool as he’d been.

I must’ve been too slow because he quickly took over the task and removed his shirt in one smooth motion. Then I was face to face with that gorgeous, muscled chest of his. I’d seen it before, but always from a distance. Now it was just inches away, and it left me breathless.

He pulled me into his arms and started kissing me again. This time, I allowed my hands to roam across his broad back freely. Smooth skin, rippled muscles … he felt amazing.

I was so busy relishing the feel of his skin beneath my finger tips that I hardly noticed when he unhooked my bra. Breaking our kiss, he backed up a bit just as I let it fall to the floor.

“Damn,” he said softly. “They’re perfect!” I blushed.

The rest of our clothes seemed to fall away effortlessly. And where I’d usually be quick to cover myself with my hands, he made me feel desirable … and desired.

“You’re so sexy,” he said as he eased my panties over my hips. He bent down to help me step out of them and quickly kissed my thighs and belly on his way back up. “I can’t wait to taste you.”


Stay tuned for The Other Night, Part 2…