After a while, I took off my clothes, and she too got up to do so. I helped her out of her nightgown, and she was left in her silk camisole and nothing else.
I laid her down and got between her legs.
She kissed my neck and shoulder as I slipped my hands inside her camisole, fondling the folds of her skin. In my insatiable thirst, I locked my lips with hers. I snaked my arms around her body, touching her smooth back, feeling her soft thighs, and allowing my hands to lose control.
“I want you, please,” she whispered in my ear as if praying to God.
“Oh, I want you too,” I moaned against her lips.
When I tried to put my finger in her, she stopped me from doing so.
“I trust you,” she cooed in my ear.
She held my length in her hand and aligned its tip with her womanhood. A tremble made me keenly aware of what I was going to do. With her eyes shut, she guided me until I was halfway in.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked, looking at her pained expression.
She opened her eyes and, as if in a daze, shook her head. She let go of me and wrapped her arms around shoulder.
I pushed the rest of me inside her. Burying her face in my chest and she moaned in pain. I pulled it out and put it back in. I did it a couple of times to ease her up, but I stopped moving when I felt something wet against my bare chest.
I held her face and forced her to look at me. Her tear-smeared face smiled back at me. I kissed her eyes and licked away those tears from her cheeks.
With our bodies united in that delightful mess, I wished nothing more than to share her beautiful soul with mine. I needed to feel that she wanted me too, and she showed it to me. I wanted her to feel that I was willing to keep her, but I did not know if I was able to convey that to her. And even if she perceived me, I knew she would not keep me.
What started with slow and slower thrusts soon turned rough, and I marked every inch of her skin in my drunken stupor. Her delightful moans, lighthearted laughs, and silvery cries got lodged in my heart and mind, which I kept rewinding as I saw her swaying slowly in a dreamy white dress in the arms of another man.
Who was I calling another man? I was the other man.
Suddenly, there were people everywhere watching her dance hand in hand with her husband. I see my aunt leaning against my uncle and looking endearingly at both of them. Her gaze momentarily fell on me, and I returned it with a smile.
I felt my mother squeezing my shoulder as we all watched her beam with happiness, saying yes to heaven.
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Yours, Imaaya
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