“Can you make dinner tonight, something healthy?”
My lips curled a smile as I enthusiastically agreed to serve Jon at my home and make him very comfortable. He had been to my house the previous night, but tonight was going to be something special…I think…..well he asked for a “no holds barred” night. So it must mean something special. All I knew is that my maternal, domestic, traditional, and Haitian feminine instincts had not only kicked in, but gone into overdrive, as I hastily picked up around the house…..Sweeping, re-arranging furniture, setting the table, lighting, finding the remote control, and nearly killing three people as I plowed my vehicle to the supermarket. I had been subsisting on nuts, grains, and cereal for the past month and nothing of real substance to feed a man in my kitchen EXCEPT WINE.
In less than 45 minutes I had prepared a unique (but hopefully not too “foreign” or “exotic”) meal of stir fry spinach with diced almonds and dried cranberries, Asian-style tofu mix drizzled in soy sauce, steamed quinoa in chicken broth (to give flavor to his American palette), and a glass of my infamous White Sangria. I showered and wore an outfit that Jon specifically said he liked the night before. And just in the nick of time, I barely had time to tie the sash around my waist, before he obnoxiously stamped through the doors and slammed it shut behind him.
“Honey, I’m HOME!!” he boomed.
I came downstairs to greet him and right away noticed that he made his way into the living room without taking off his shoes on our hardwood floors.
At the table, it would be an overstatement to say that he feasted. Though a very slim build, he ate all the spinach picking around the nuts and fruit, some of the vegetables and not the tofu. And barely breathed on the quinoa. Good home cooked food that is consumed regularly at my home is now being sent back to the fridge. Typical spoiled White American.
I looked away and refused to watch him “eat”.
“Sabrien, play with my dick while I eat!”
I was a little surprised, confused, and disadvantaged as I was sitting on his right side, and had to use my left hand to reach in and search for his soft fleshy member. With all my “supplies” upstairs I could only hope that the lotion I put on my hands earlier could still provide a good slip. Not to mention, I couldn’t get it all the way out of his pants, maybe it was the awkwardness of sitting next to him and trying to feel my way around under the tablecloth.
And as they say in France, ONE THING LED TO ANOTHER, and I found myself pinned in a damning awkward position over the table and Mr. Jon on top. He took his sweet time to reach in for his travel bag and pull out the plastic bag of condoms I gave him. He threw it on the table. Making sure that I saw it, signaling what was to happen next.
Not what I had in mind! I never told Jon this, but I had fantasized about our first time: hoping for the weekend, when he would come and stay over the night and while he showered I would prepare the room by dimming the lights and lighting my favorite scented candles, spraying the sheets in the perfume that he liked, and me patiently waiting…not wearing much in bed for him to come in and find a delightful surprise.
Yeh, I can be romantic…and I wanted to show him that :-(
However, in my bottom position all I could think about was the searing pain that the edge on the table made pressing across my pubic symphysis as Jon pounded his small 130 pound frame against me. Who knew someone so small could do so much damage? My feet could barely touch the floor; add in the pins and needles sensation in my right leg and the fact that it had been a year since I had the pleasure of… being in the company of a fine gentleman.
I stood stretching out my lower limbs and regaining feeling. As we walked across the living room, I grabbed his hand and guided him upstairs.
Now let’s do this my way
Hoping to salvage any romance or intimacy that this night was supposed to bring, we continued to make out, in a very comedic and awkward way;–Jon is a sloppy kisser – as they call them—with a roaming tongue and hands. All I kept thinking about was him swallowing my jewelry (since I still couldn’t find that other earring) and was unprepared for what would happen next!
“Get the condoms!” he said as he prepared for another round of hardcore penetration.
I grabbed the bag, dumped it and I asked, “Lifestyle or Durex? Which one do you wear?”
“Just get me a condom, QUICK.” He said as he concentrated on his hand.
I pulled out three choices and handed it to him.
“NO, I’m not hard yet.” He snapped.
I thought you wanted it now??
“Ok…I—uh thought”… I’ll just wait…..
“Ok now! Give it to me quick.”
I quickly passed the condoms to him and he slapped my hand down. “You gotta open it, first…why are you so dumb?!”
I began to open one and take it out of the wrapping. This whole scenario took less than a minute to occur but already he said,
“Hurry, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Perplexed, I watched him slap on the rubber, and eased myself to a more comfortable position on my back. There was no music or candlelight as I wanted but the pace of sexual intercourse was timed by our natural rhythm …that was as off-key as a whino singing along to the Sunday school choir, while taking a piss behind the cathedral structure. His body dominated me as the thrusting of his appendage kept the tempo. You could hear it:
Knowing what I know now, I didn’t have enough sense not to roll my eyes downward, and keep them locked on him. At the time, I naively thought such a small natural occurrence due to the amount lubrication and twisting of our pelvis…shit might have just slipped out! It’s not like we ladies can put a seat belt on the thing every time we lift our pelvis or shift our legs!
“Why are you so tense?!” He demanded
Oh I am? Ok relax….and just–
Stay open –open….
Was that too open? Everything that I knew about human anatomy seemed to be….not applying in this situation!
I instinctively reached down….to help, but was met with another fly-swat…
“You’re too tense!”
Now I’m tense. I could see the hair falling over his face, as he pushed it back. Determined, he grabbed both of my thighs and sealed his pelvis to my vulva as he pounded away. The next few minutes, all I can recall is lying on my back, to just my shoulder blades, to…now this is getting dangerous, to being flipped on my side and Jon spooning behind me, then on my back again.
And it goes again:
Falling back onto the bed, I sat up and looked at my watch…..oh. I looked at him, he was the youngest guy I had been with, and though I was surprised by his limberness, I was still perplexed that we had only been in the room less than 15 minutes.
Still a bit shell-shocked, I desperately tried to bring the flaccid member back up again.
“No, no, no don’t play with my dick,” He panted or may have; I was too busy trying to save the night.
“No, I’m too sensitive….here come and cuddle with me” he beckoned with open arms.
Cuddle?? “Why?” I asked, cocking my head and raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to go to sleep?” I was sincere in my inquiry as I had only known the act of cuddling to happen right before lovebirds fall asleep in their embrace. And since I had never fallen asleep in anyone’s embrace, nor witnessed it in my own home, it was a foreign concept to me. As foreign as making a milkshake or Star Wars.
“Just come here….”
I crawled over and awkwardly (this is the word of the day, folks!) found a spot to lay my head. By now, I was uncomfortable and restless. We were both naked and lying on top of the covers so I was getting chilly, I still wanted to go another round and get some time on TOP, so it could be my turn….and….
“So we’re going again right?” I asked without blinking and very straightforward
“Yeh…I’m just sensitive.” He panted…
“Are you in pain or something?” I genuinely inquired, as my hand reached for his forbidden zone.
“No don’t….I just need a minute.”
I rolled over and grabbed my robe to exit the room and throw out the used condom in the bathroom. My mind wandered again to the food on the table and the dishes I would have to wash….which then brought me to a question that I had been meaning to ask him.
“Hey, remember when you told me your mom had to have a C-section because she’s a little person?”
I could distinctly remember him rolling his eye sideways at me and giving me a deep half-squinted stare. “Yeh”
“Just to clarify were you using the colloquial term to refer to a genetic condition also known as Dwarfism or is she simply shorter than the average person?”
I should have been more sensitive.
Chapter 9: A Super Man
I was trying to be respectable and show her how much she can trust me and I can please her. We had already talked about waiting, but I felt like the reason she didn’t want to have sex with me was because she thought I couldn’t please her. So I asked, “Sabrien, tonight can I have you…In any way that I want?”
© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne