Passionately Nigtmarish...

Walking in, I silently responded to the buzz absolutely clueless as to what to expect. Carpeted hallways and grey met my entrance; I followed the numbers through till I found ‘8’.

My eyes locking on to the familiar ‘rider’ Ralph Lauren polo shirts were characterised by, I leaned forward and accepted a watery hug and a kiss on my cheek. I was directed to come in. 
Loud clanking emanated as my heels familiarised themselves with wood flooring laid through out the apartment. I took in calabash-coloured walls and white ceilings; it looked like everything was in order. The chaos must have been in my head.


With a strange determination I pushed away a nagging thought as it attempted to force its way through to the forefront of my mind. I didn’t want to think about why I was here; I simply wanted to be and I was…
The conversation was timid to start with. The Gallo brothers quickly fixed that, the juice from their Californian vineyards calmed whatever nerves I felt as my body absorbed it. ‘Was this white Grenache or White Zinfandel?’ I pondered lightly, I couldn’t tell for sure. Music, past relationships and beautiful women dominated the conversation, communication that led to me jumping on his bed and laughing excitedly. I felt free. He muttered something about buying cheap beds and then warned that I might break his! 

I ignored, pssh! What did he know about fun? Peeling off my black racer back vest, I exposed exquisitely full, supple mounds covered in velvety, chocolaty skin restrained by black lace intricately twined with white. He reached; I was determined to discard the stirrups too! It wasn’t working. He held out his hand again, this time I let him settle me onto my back. Intense warmth generated as he wrapped his munificent frame around my sensuality, he took in my scent. It felt good… really good! Interrupting my ‘moment’, his stiffening gently nudged as though it had a mind of its own. 


Turning me onto my side, he took a dark peak into his mouth, nibbling ever so lightly with outrageously soft lips, a plethora of moans escaped me; he’d somehow managed to find my warmth with his free hand, in the same instance. Unashamedly, he authoritatively guided me to his hardness. The singular act unleashed an Aphrodites so fierce she knew no bounds; for the ‘sexual goddess’ took over the night as though it had been carved for her.
He was strong yet gentle, he lifted me onto pure wanton desire. My wetness, in turn, engulfed him, forcing him to seek deeper, I moaned again or maybe it was a scream this time, as he led me to take him so much deeper through my maze… I couldn’t! My limits were exhausted. 
Maxwell whispered something about this woman’s worth in the background; I was completely consumed in this woman's moment… our bodies entwined in passionate rage.


His fingers felt amazing and yet unruly as they hungrily penetrated my secret; causing me to flow relentlessly ; he was unwavering in the astuteness of his desire. I remember hearing pellets of rain hit the littered pavements, I remember moments where I’d grabbed his collar forcing him even deeper, moments where my nails had dug into the skin on his back, moments when I’d begged him to stop because I was so sure the sheer force of passion would rip me apart and I remember moments when my lips had tried to echo his name and had failed miserably. The night was our canvas and we had painted a picture so wantonly earthly, it was genius… sexual genius! 


He wasn’t my best or my worst but he had unarguably relayed his case. 

Initiating my final climax, he completed the sequence with steady hands and an intense gaze. Further conversation paved the path to sleep as I lay my head on his chest of hair, his fingers carelessly stroking my mane… this time ‘Ave Maria’ penetrated the background!... I thought it was Celine’s version, he’d said it was Charlotte Church! What did I care? He told me how as a child he’d liked to play in the rain, ‘didn’t we all’ I thought. (We were suddenly bogged down with £300 weaves and expensive garments)


I left in a hurried rush, frazzled, confused not keen to confront the morning … I remember it was 6am, I remember running in the rain and loving it… but something simply wasn’t right! His substance had evaded me... I wanted my picture more intense, exciting and almost divine, I wanted hearts synched and I wanted to unravel secrets through moments of depth, I wanted my picture delicately drenched in quality, I wanted that sensual, giddy feeling that was certain to make my heart skip a beat every time he walked in a room, this wasn't it … this was genius but i didn't want this...


I heard my name in the distance, ‘Ade’; the distance got closer and then closer… Shit! WTH? My silly brother standing over me, bowl of water in one hand. He read my frown adequately, I was about to jump out of bed and kick him (he was too tall to slap)... ‘You’re going to be late for work! Get up!’… Shit! 7:15 Damn! My dreams had confirmed M.H wasn’t really my type…

**my attempt at erotica ... what do you think?