“Where’s your nymph?” I’m asked and I explain that this afternoon she gave a guest lecture at the University on African sex initiation rites among the Guyanese bush blacks. “I was so proud of her, I sat beaming in my bench like I was her grandfather.
Somewhat guiltily I wake up. ‘Was not the intention”‘ haunts my head like a mantra and keeps my eyes closed firmly when I feel movement next to me on the bed. With a kiss on my nose, I dare to look. Her mysteriously dark eyes are shining, like nothing I’ve seen before, these weeks.
She jacks me off like a guy and whispers “This is your last seed in the air, I don’t want you too eager!” and I let go, and she feels me throbbing, my thighs and calves trembling with ecstasy.
This morning she is gazing in thought at the mountains in the distance. I stand behind her and place my hands on her hips. A small sigh escapes her as I slip onto her belly and from there wander up to the base of her breasts.
Can I give Oma chocolates for Valentine’s Day too? And Mama?” I nodded encouragingly and he took out his still so new bank card. “Not for my sister, right? That’s incest.”
When I open my eyes, she’s standing in the doorway looking at me, her t-shirt just too short to effectively hide her -unwrapped- mons. Definitely from below.
Typing away on my Olivetti M24 my crotch narrows fast. My office fills with the faint smell of my love for 15 years now, Poison from Dior. But it’s morning and she is at home, taking a bath, her nips pointing out of the frothy foam.
She was just in her thirties when she suddenly stood before me, luxuriantly wavy, copper locks over her shoulders, rounded in all the right places and wearing stilettos, which adorned her posture. She took me in her arms, a little too intimately for an uncle.
Travel unobtrusive, I had said. Diane with a red suitcase in a signal red, tight fitting and too short dress, which only accentuates her dark body, is a beacon on the drab platform when I wait for her train to arrive.
“So, you could use company, tomorrow or so? ” She turns her cell phone and I see her friend Diane, looking at me dejectedly and tears all over. I know her to be a party girl, so clearly something is wrong.