She’s in that cute body-hugging short grey dress that she knows I love very much. It always does justice to her body, effortlessly revealing all her curves in their right places. Her nipples are hard, like they always are, threatening to pop out of the dress. The silver necklace that I bought her for our 3rd anniversary rests peacefully around her neck, with its pendant hanging teasingly just above her cleavage.
“Why do we keep on doing this?” She asks.
That voice… I dearly missed it. I start walking towards her without saying a word. She’s a bit tensed; I can see it from how she’s started fidgeting with the pendant that initially complemented her cleavage so perfectly. I take her right hand, peck the back of it, slide my hand around her tiny waist, and let my desires sink into her deep hazel brown eyes. Before I know it, the words “You look lovely” escape my lips. She stands on her toes to give me one of those hugs that I so much value.
“I missed you!” she whispers.
I take in her scent – strawberries – her favourite fruits. For a moment, everything seems so right. Wait, everything has always felt right with her. So damn right! With her, I feel complete. She makes me realize how beautiful love is. Being an only kid to parents who don’t give a damn about anything else other than chasing the bag, I have always enjoyed my solitude. But solitude has never felt the same since I met her. And at this moment, it dawns on me how much miserable my life is going to be without her – it would be like a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece – useless.
I go in for a kiss. It’s one of the many things I’ve been craving for since she shut me out 4 days ago after one of our misunderstandings. But here she is, now. So I’m going to make every second count. Her lips, a soft pink, tender and so inviting. I know she wants us to talk, but that can wait. I can feel her body start to relax in my arms so I lift her from the floor and pin her against the wall. She loves it when I do that. Her dress goes up a little bit and rests just below her butt as she parts her legs to wrap them around my waist. I can see a soft shade of pink on her cheeks. Is she blushing? Definitely. She can’t help it whenever I smile at her. She always tells me how cute my smile is and that it’s the first thing she found attractive when we first met. Her soft thumbs trace my jawline before she pulls me in for a fierce kiss – one that tells me she’s hungry – hungry for me. She gently bites my lower lip before pausing to look at me.
“Why do we keep on doing this?” She asks for the second time.
Again, I don’t answer her. Instead, I turn her around and gently place her on the bed before parting her hair that is now covering her neck – so smooth, so flawless, with just a tiny mark of a fading hickey. A bitter taste of her strawberry perfume greets me when I lick her neck. But there’s some sweetness in that bitterness – a sweetness that I can’t even explain – a sweetness that makes me want to have more and more of her. So I place a gentle kiss on that hickey mark then take my hands to the hem of her dress, caressing every part of her body in the process. She raises her hands in response and her dress swiftly comes off, revealing a red lacy thong and a pair of the most magnificent boobs I have ever seen. I start planting kisses along her neck before stopping at her left boob, sucking her nipple as my left hand gently squeezes her right boob. She places her tiny hand on my head, gently pushing me away.
“Anything wrong, Cookie?” I ask.
“Just go right down. I can’t wait any longer.”
“Please?” She hardly voices it out.
I always find myself bending to her will whenever she gives me one of those puppy-dog pleading eyes. She usually looks so cute when she does that. Such a manipulative little jinn.
“Your wish is my command, Your Highness.” I say as I remove her thong.
She puts her hands over her face, blushing. We’ve dated for more than three years but she’s never gotten used to the idea of her panty being removed by someone else – not even I. Her legs, long and graceful, receive a trail of lustful kisses before I reach her inner thighs. I gently rub my tongue against her catpaty. She flinches. I do it again before tilting my head upwards to marvel at all the gorgeousness before me. She’s slowly sinking into our world. I lower my head and start rubbing my lips over her lips, spreading the wetness up and down Apple. In case you’re wondering, I named her punani “Apple”. Apples are my favourite fruits. I can eat Apple(s) all day! I can have Apple(s) for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And today, I’m gonna have Apple for my evening snack. I lightly bite, lick, suck, and do everything that she likes to her clit. She’s started wining her waist in rhythm and moaning in pleasure. I can feel her grabbing the sheets while arching her back as her legs start to shake.
Right now, all I want is to be baptized in her juices. So I slide my index finger into her pussy as I continue to stimulate her clitoris with my tongue, making circular motions that make her head spin in desirable pleasure. It isn’t long before she lets loose, releasing all her demons pon me face.
Did that sound Jamaican enough? No? Okay.
My little Cookie, lying on her back, smiling sheepishly like a kid who’s been caught stealing sugar. I smile back at her before showering her pretty face with kisses.
“You. I kiss her forehead. Taste. A kiss on her left cheek. So. Another one on her right cheek. Good.”
I plant the last kiss on her lips before lying beside her on the bed. We both lie there engulfed in a peaceful silence. A comfortable silence that lets us enjoy nothing else but each other’s presence. She suddenly turns to me and asks: “Why is it wrong?”
Even without asking, I already know what she’s talking about – our romantic relationship. Why is our affair so wrong in the eyes of the society? I really don’t have an answer to that so I just pull her closer for a cuddle. She shifts her weight a few times before finding a comfortable position.
“Why do people have to make us feel like we’re abnormal? I wish I could be able to kiss you in the rain without receiving ugly stares from people. I wish we were a normal couple.” she tells me this while tracing my abs with her smooth fingers.
“Normal is boring baby girl. We only get one life, so live your life. Fuck (not literally of course) everyone who thinks you owe them an explanation of why you’re attracted to individuals of the same sex. Just stay focused on being happy, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone in the process. I hate people who like hurting other people. You know that, right?”
That was a rhetorical question but somehow, I want her to respond. I want her to know that she’s always been, and always will be safe with me. I’m not one of those people who are out here to hurt her. So I look down and notice that she’s fallen asleep, probably from the lecture that I had just started giving her, but most likely from the orgasm she had just experienced. Or perhaps a combination of both? Wolefa mehn! She looks so beautiful in her sleep, and I just wanna look at her all night! All her gloriousness drowns me in a reverie so chasmic I wonder if I’ll ever snap out of it…
I see my 6-year old self only wanting to associate myself with boys.
I see the faces of concerned parents talking to a doctor, wanting to know why their 8-year old daughter always insists on being referred to as a boy, and the doctor telling them it is a phase that she’d outgrow once she hit puberty.
I see my 11-year old self walking into a barber shop to get a haircut instead of going to the salon to get my hair plaited.
I see my 13-year old self, googling stuff on the internet, wanting to know why I am not like other girls – why I have never found boys attractive, even after our Std. 6 Science teacher told us that when human beings hit puberty, they start to feel attracted to people of the opposite sex.
I see the disappointment on my mother’s face when I rejected the elegant navy blue gown and a pair of heels that she thought would make me look lovely on my first prom night.
I see a worried 17-year old, just wanting to know what experiencing monthly periods feels like, in order to feel normal and comfortable among her high school mates…
Then I see how hateful this world is towards people like me. How everyone else feels like we choose to be how we are. I see how insensitive people are to think that we can just wake up one morning and decide to be “straight” if we want to. It’s a burden so heavy to carry around that we fear it may one day crash us into tiny pieces – but we have no other option. And right then, I realize how difficult it is to not give a fuck about your sexuality, especially if it does not conform to the set societal standards of being acceptable. I realize that at times, you can (unintentionally) hurt your closest ones, just by being genuinely happy and embracing your true self. I think of how more difficult times are going to be for people like me when the Kenyan High Court fails to decriminalize homosexuality.
I am deeply immersed in my reminiscences when my sleeping beauty shifts to find a more comfortable position. She turns her back on me and as I move closer to spoon her, all I’m wishing for is to wake up in a world where leaders see corruption as a major threat to its people rather than homosexuality.