Page 8

eight

Cordaé Snoh

I was nervous as hell waiting on Aisha to get here that I honestly thought it was a joke. But just in case she wasn’t playing, I quickly straightened up my place and hopped in the shower. After lathering my body twice, I rinsed, getting out and brushing my teeth.

Standing in front of the mirror, I looked my body over. I had no body hair or scars. Nor did I have any muscles. I was just kinda toned.

Putting on my classic briefs, I slipped into a pair of gray sweats, a white T-shirt and some socks.

Searching through my cabinet, I laid some peppermints on the coffee table hearing a knock on the door. Wiping my sweaty hands on my pants, I steadied my breathing and opened the door.

“Hey.”

Aisha’s smile was bright. It lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Come in.” I allowed her entry, stepping back then closing the door.

She was wearing a red fitted hoodie, skinny jeans and red and white tennis shoes. Her hair was still like it had been when I met her the first time and she had a bag in her hand. She smelled edible. Like coconut and something sweet.

“You look nice and you smell good.”

“Thank you, babe,” she took her shoes off and left my side like she lived there.

Babe? My eyes ballooned.

“You want me to take the bag?” I didn’t know what to say.

“If you’re gonna make our drinks.”

“I don’t drink and I don’t have nothing but water and juice in the refrigerator.”

“That’s why I brought my own,” she pulled a bottle of Hennessy out her bag. “Do you have eggnog?”

“No. I don’t like how it taste.”

“I love it,” she swallowed. “Most white stuff taste good.”

Now it was my turn to swallow hard. I could feel the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

“I’ll pour you some Hennessy,” her hips swayed left to right as she entered my kitchen.

“I just told you I don’t drink,” I followed her.

“One or two sips won’t hurt. I’ll even add some juice,” she opened my refrigerator.

Seeing her bent over made me feel a sensation in my lower area.

When we had our drinks, she asked if she could look around. Giving her the okay, she moved through my apartment like it was hers. Stopping at the entrance of my bedroom, she glanced at me.

“So here is where all the magic happens, huh?” She entered my room, sitting on the bed.

I grunted.

“I don’t know any type of magic going on in here.”

“Drink some,” she suggested of the cup I held in my hand. “And come sit down. I won’t bite unless you want me too.”

When I didn’t move she added, “I’m just joking. Relax.”

Taking a seat on my bed and inches away from her, I took a sip of the brown liquid.

“This is gross. How do you drink this?” I frowned in disgust.

“It’s not that bad. You just aren’t use to it yet,” she took a gulp of hers. “Try some more or do you wanna taste mine?”

That sounded like a sexual innuendo to me.

Taking another sip, I scrunched my face in distaste.

“You’re so dramatic,” she giggled.

For a few minutes we had light conversation.

“What kind of cologne do you wear?” She sniffed the air.

“It’s not cologne. It’s oil my family makes.”

“What kind of books do you like to read?”

“Probably the same ones you do,” I set my cup on the dresser.

“I read different genres,” she stretched out one leg, bending the other and placing it under her thigh. “I’m just not to fond of sci-fi reads.”

“Same.”

In the dim light, I kept my head straight, staring at my closet.

“Have you seen any good shows on Netflix?”

“I was meaning to watch a few but these books I’ve been reading had me locked in.”

“Do you have any favorite authors?” She from her cup.

“I have so many,” I scrubbed my hands up and down my pants.

“What’s about you?” My eyes shifted to her. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Ashantay Keys, Ashley, Grey/Mercy, Nina, Nesha, M. Monique, I can go on and on.”

“I’m familiar with all of them.”

“We have something in common,” she put her cup next to mine. “What are you in school for? Your career goal?”

“Criminal Justice. I want to be a lawyer,” I proudly answered. “You?”

“I’m in the medical field. I want to be a doctor of some sort. Most likely an Oncologist.”

“That’s dope,” I finally looked at her; my nervousness dwindling.

I started to feel different. The effects of the alcohol. I was relaxed and comfortable.

“Thank you. You’re doing the damn thang too,” she touched my leg.

The gentle taps of her fingertips traveled upward.

“Can you take these off?” Aisha gently pulled at my pants.

I was tipsy but alert enough to understand what she’d asked.

“Why?” I removed her petite hand from the waistband of my sweats.

“So I can see it,” she boldly admitted. “And touch it.”

“For what?”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking so many questions, Cordy.”

Helping me recline back, Aisha stuck her hand inside the front of my sweats and attempted to slide her hand in my underwear but they were so fitting she had a hard time.

“Lift up a little.”

Somehow I felt my body rise aiding in her pulling my dick out. Her hands on it felt so good next to the feeling of my own.

“Move your shirt or take it off.”

Gripping my shirt, I moved it out the way as she started to stroke my shaft with her hand. Pausing for a minute, she glanced around my room finding my baby oil. Picking the bottle up, she twisted off the top, poured some in her hands and went back to jacking me off.

Quietly moaning and groaning, I held my lip in my mouth not wanting to make a sound.

“You like that, baby?” She asked. Her up and down movements had me gripping my sheets and slightly hovering off the bed. “Don’t hold it in. Tell me what you’re feeling?” She kept her eyes on me.

I didn’t look at her because my eyes kept falling shut but when her fingers focused on the tip, my eyes popped open and I moaned extra loud.

“Oh. So you like this?” She kept squeezing the mushroom head of my dick.

I just nodded; a hiss belted from my lips.

Feeling my orgasm rise, I tried warning her but she continued to toy with the head.

“You can cuss, baby.”

When she said that, I let out my first cuss word ever spoken.

“Fuck,” I drug out the word spilling my seeds into her hand as she continued to stoke my shaft up and down.

When she had drained me of cum, my eyes then found hers. I watched her as she removed her hand from my dick and lick each finger, sucking the remnants of my babies.

“That was my first Christmas gift to you,” she smiled, gently planting a kiss on my lips.