Erotica Fiction: Masaba Left Me Messed

I didn’t buy cucumbers today, but let my hand reach out to a plum. It looked so fresh that I wanted to slice it open just enough for my fingers to dig into the fruit flesh. Home felt too far and I wanted to have this picnic in a public park. My fingers dug deep into the soft lips of the plum, layered secret doors.

The moment was a time machine and I was again in the party, last Saturday where I first saw Masaba. Never had a woman before gave me the chills on a summer evening. That evening never stopped enthralling me. Masaba led me into the empty room effortlessly because she somehow knew I would follow. She almost spread out her legs wide enough to term it as ‘unwomanly’ but I have never seen a woman owning her woman so assertively before. Her toes curling up as she undid the first button of her dress. She still looked straight into my eyes. Her eyes, almost undressing me already. I had never been with a woman before but I was glad she was the first.

I did not blink, but I did not move either. But she did, towards me. I have never felt so free and caged in the same second. She came as close as she could and made sure that I do not forget her and she was right, I couldn’t. I respond by tasting the hints on her skin — light kisses filled with hint of lavender. I’m breathing again but each breath is shallow as I struggle to stay still. She didn’t ask for directions, so I didn’t give her any, I liked how she fumbled until she knew how to break all hell loose.

Her every kiss starting at my lips and reaching ends of every nerve in my body. I felt everything. She filled me up with this thumping energy, slowly unlocking all the doors which I’ve locked away for years. My desires are throbbing through me like crashed floodgates. She was in no hurry. We moved to our own rhythm.

I’m ready, but now she’s asking me to share this in a voiced answer, in a way that is so complete, it terrifies me. I knew I’ll be able to give myself to her fully, perhaps even more than she knows. I told her that I had been dreaming about this. Like a dream I have seen for years but still was a mystery to me, until today, until Masaba. Seeing her so consumed with thoughts of me made me feel powerful and also drained me in the longing for such attention.

When she left the room, I could feel melting ice on my strained thighs. The rest of the evening, I had a hard time making my mind and body feel connected.

My palms are soiled by the plum exploration without supervision in the middle of the park and I cannot stop thinking about Masaba and her parted legs. Would it have tasted better than my palm? I reply to her text and I buy some more plums on the way back home.

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Broke poet. Moody writer. Writes poetry because writing a diary is too clichéd. Dreamy eyes and thunder thighs. Maybe I will be a lot of things.

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