I listened to my appliance, knowing I should just retire for the night because I was just going to spend the next 30 minutes getting sore from it's weak vibration. I certainly know this buzz isn't going to win against my wandering mind, before I get myself to focus enough to cum to pleasure. I wish I have new batteries... I wish I could have more simple nights like the one with Sir.
My Sir, a Sierra Leonean boy who lord knows stole my heart. He adored me; the 16-year-old Nigerian girl who didn't know how to knit, or use a washboard, but braided his sister's hair beautifully. I adored him because he was older... all of five years older. He was an adult to me and he indulged me with the streams of inquisition I shot at him. In fact, he encouraged my curiosity, I didn't feel the burden to 'respect' him, in the way that I'd come to understand that word.
Sir and I could have talked about anything, and in truth we tried to. He pretended to be impressed by my maturity to appease my better senses, while I tried harder to keep his impression. So when he asked if I had been kissed before I didn't look surprised, I looked insulted; I titled my face enough to look at him from the corners of my eyes and said "of course!" He smiled in the quiet way he often did, where his eyes would close entirely, as if to solely concentrate on the joy he was experiencing and without revealing his teeth, his lips would turn up his and his dimples would sink in. Then he would shake his head as if he was disagreeing with someone and I'd melt.
It was a bit dark in the room, the lantern was saving what visibility it could. The sofa, although looked rugged was extremely soft, so soft my buttocks sank in, taking most of my thighs in with it, my feet dangled. I was reminded of how beautiful a night it was, as the breeze swept through the opened door directly at me; through my hair and on my face,as we were sitting just opposite of the wooden door. I thought it was going to rain soon, I liked the rain in Seirre Leone, like Nigeria it was accompanied with cool, cold wind... I had been distracted. I suddenly noticed he had stopped laughing, he was relaxed on the sofa, just watching me. So I leaned back also on the sofa, a head space far, I thought that was far enough. He was older and the boy, if he wanted to kiss me, he'd have to come for my lips instead, after all that's what I read in that novel. He must have heard my thoughts, cause he leaned out again and pulled me in closer, turning my face to his gently, leaving his fingers to trail on my lips. The lantern must have been running out of kerosene because everything was dimmer now, except his eyes. My heart was beating faster now, this was nothing like I had experienced before. Suddenly his lips were on mine, my heart stopped and for a moment, my head was quiet, my mind not wandering, everything stood still. It was breathtaking... and then bam! I was filled with confusion, a hundred things running through my head, what was happening? What was... what is he doing? This wasn't how it was supposed to go, this was more than I bargained for. What was in my mouth? And what was I supposed to do with it? And now it was linked with mine? I was even more confused, so I withdrew my mouth and face from his. Just as he stared at me, just as confused. I gently asked, "Why is your tongue in my mouth? you're not doing it right!" Amused now, he stared back at me and smiled in the quiet way that he usually did, then shook his head as if he was disagreeing with someone, only this time I knew he was actually disagreeing with my statement, "it's supposed to be there, that's how you french kiss."
I should have kept my mouth shut and my tongue in his I thought, as I said goodbye that night to him in shame, one that he didn't cause whatsoever. In fact he had been patient with me, he had patiently drawn me in one more time and tried to teach me what he knew about the strange kiss. He stopped as he saw how uncomfortable I was, that I hadn't made peace with having another person tongue in my mouth. You see, not everyone was patient as my Sir, not everyone I had been with was patient as my Sir.
If only I had known that knowing how to kiss would be the least of my problems, that in years to come I would long for someone as patient as my Sir, that I would long for someone who knew I was being silly when I screamed wrong hole, that I would long for someone that could see that I had drifted off because my mind was more occupied with having the perfect arch, or if I had lost enough pounds to get on top and ride smooth with confidence, that my curiosity would be the foremost killer of my pleasure, if I had known, I could have stayed a little longer with him, and relished at such simple pleasures.
.... I knew the vibration could not withstand my wandering mind.
