NOTE: This is a continuation of the story One Night Stand Part 6,7 and 8. If you didn’t read it, you might have to read it before continuing with this one.
Suddenly, he was there standing in front of me stroking himself. He was jerking on my face his eyes drilling mine. “So you decided to tease me, drive me out of my mind playing with yourself. When I needed you, you delayed. Tell me, why should I ease your ache?, ”
“Because it’s what you want. It’s what you crave most. You want to be buried inside me. You want to own me. I know this because it’s what I want too.” I replied running my hands on his forearms imploryingly. With that, he carried me to the mattress..
My legs wrapped around his hips as we started kissing. He tasted like cinnamon and some other spice I couldn’t place a finger on to. He was a good kisser. His lips were so soft as they glided on mine. I whimpered with need. I wanted everything at once . Our breathes were labored as we sort each other out as he laid me on the mattress his body fully covering mine.
I was wrestless with want and need. They caused through my blood fogging my brain to everything else. Like a maestro, they played me, tuning me to their vicious play, melody.
I arched, when he rad his lips on my neck brushing my ample boobs on his vested chest with invitation. My eyes turned into half mast when he took my nipples into his mouth and laved and sacked them making me whimper in pliant and utter need. And as his hand travelled down and found its way to my wetness, I just cried out, opening myself more to his ministrations. Urging him on I moved on his middle finger like my life depended on it until he touched my g-spot and I came undone in his arms. I found myself sniffling pathetically because it felt transcending. Above all, he had broken the cocoon I had built for so long. And he was not done with me by long shot
As I laid down in bed trying to get back my bearings, Gite brought out a packet of condom and sheathed himself. Slowly and deliberately he parted my legs and drove inside me inch by inch. At first it felt like I could not handle him. It was painful. I think it was because I had been on forced celibacy and he was bigger than my husband. And then he started moving.
I looked at the juncture that joined us together and my thoughts were in a jumble. There was something poetic about it. I could feel him pulsing inside me, taking me with him on a journey of wantoness. Gite’s prick, felt heavy and full inside me. Each stroke as he languidly and slowly moved inside, made me want to scream, keen. My arms moved restlessly over his back, torso. Oh my. I knew he would feel good but I never imagined this amazing.
I felt hot and out of my depth. He surrounded me. His breath came in short circuit with every move he made. His manly scent and musky cologne surrounded me in a caccon of heat and restlessness.
I met him in half strides as he pistoned inside me. His slick back felt good to the touch. Dribs of sweat slunked from Gite rubbing off my body in a perfumed state. I wanted to mewel like a cat getting scratched.
Feeling him laving one nipple while pinching the other coupled with him moving inside me had me going nuts. I wrapped my arms more tightly around his hips ;caging him in my precipice of heaven. I heard him grunt with the effort of holding himself back as he grinded his dick in my g-spot.
I never pictured shagging to be this exciting nor soul searing. Gite knew the baser art of carnality. And he was giving me what I had missed for a long time. Good sex.
I could feel myself on the ledge of another orgasm. He was working me like he couldn’t get enough. Kneeling, he turned me on to my stomach spreading my legs wider as he covered my back with his and surged inside me in one fluid movement. I let out a gasp full of wonder and lust. I could see his lust reflecting mine.
Looking straight into my eyes, he wound his hand around me and brought it to my clit. He rubbed it with tandem to his movements inside me. I grated on the mattress pleasure consuming me in waves. I couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts. I moaned, touching my breasts, moving my head from one side to the other. I tried to rise but he prevented me by putting one hand on my lower back; a show of control on his part.
Gite started moving deep inside me with hard wrenching precision. I could feel him really deep inside me with each stroke. I felt tingly then it spread everywhere in my body. I tried to stifle my release. It felt like an avalanche of emotions- that I had stocked up for a long time and I couldn’t hold on to any longer. I screamed as I felt myself letting go, getting carried away in my orgasmic bliss.
Putting me on on all fours all of a sudden, he shoved inside me. Each movement brought me closer to another climax. This style ensured I felt him fully inside me. With every thrust, I felt both pleasure and pain. He stretched me real good. I could feel him throbbing inside of me with every movement . His girth and width filled me up, surrounding me. I moaned with every thrust. And I gasped every single time he shoved inside me.
Sweat coated both of us. I could hear Gite’s unrestrained groans behind my back. His sweat dribbled on my skin like a luxurious perfume. I loved it. I felt owned and loved in the best way;something I hadn’t felt in foreve. His hands on both sides on my hips, held me in place. My forearms supported my weight on the mattress . My boobs moved with every thrust he gave me. I could see his eyes riveted with them. I couldn’t help smiling internally.
Leaning on my back, he removed his hands from my hips and brought one on my left breast and the other he reached around to rub my clit. I could hear his strained panting as he shoved with unrestrained vigour. I could feel myself stretching and closing every time his manhood shoved inside me.
“Am going to make you scream your head off Anita . Your woman juices will gush over me again and am going to lick you clean after I come inside you.” Gite uttered into my ears.
Goosebumps broke all over me. With each shove, I felt he was about to predict how true his words were.
“Come for me. Let go. Feel me inside you.” he whispered as he hit my g-spot. Moans broke out from me unrestainly. I felt like I was floating in a cavern of lust. He kissed my back. I could feel his need to come fighting with his resolution to see me climax again.
Knowing what made me loose all control from our previous text conversations, he suddenly pressed real hard on my clit moving inside me hard and fast. I let out a loud scream as I felt myself cumming all over again . Gite shoved inside me several times before grunting his release.
I was deprived of strength. I slumped on the mattress, Gite following. I knew this was just the beginning of the night. And I couldn’t wait to experience some more. But at that moment , I felt satiated to drift into sleep. And I knew what waited for me there. Memories.
I was 21 years when I met the guy who was going to be my husband. Earlier that year, I had finished my Diploma course in Broadcast In Journalism at the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication. And lucky for me, I had already landed a job at a research and magazine company in town that basically centered on anything technology.
He was a lawyer in the same building our offices were located. He was a good looking guy I just used to see sometimes on the lobby or while riding the elevator to my floor but I never paid too much heed on him.
Life was good for me. I was single, living alone for the first time and independent. And I had my friends to keep me company if I needed any. So it never crossed my mind that I had actually attracted his interest until one day he approached me at the building’s lobby while going home.
“Hi?”, he greeted out. At first I thought he was talking to someone behind me so I ignored him “I meant you”, he smiled pointing at me “Umm hi”, I responded a bit ruffled. Why would this guy be talking to me? I didn’t know him.
“My name is James Muema. I work at the law firm the next floor from yours. ” He introduced himself. ‘Okay. So?’ I thought internally. It’s not that I am a bitch but sometimes I can get a bit waspish especially when I had a long day. I raised my eyebrows inquisitively urging him silently to go on.”This is going to sound crazy but can I take you out for coffee or something? I usually don’t do this. It’s almost like my first attempt to approach a beautiful woman like you. So I was wondering if just maybe, you could just indulge me?. ” He looked flustered and unsure of himself.” Just forget I ever approached you. ” He made to walk away.” I would like that”, I surprised myself with my own response.
Later on in the years that followed, I would realise that I had been instantly attracted to him. The way he had approached me, so unsure, yet with this yearning in his eyes; like I was the woman he wanted to be with forever(not that he didn’t mention it instantly over the coffee date). And the way his eyes had lit up with happiness on my positive response.
That coffee date had been the beginning of everything. I fell in love with him. I fell in love with the religious, caring man he was. I loved his quiet ways, reassuring presence and most of all, his quiet confidence in everything he did. In us. Even our differences. I just never thought these differences would be my dungeon in the long run or that they would stifle me.
You see my husband James, was brought up in a very religious background. He was the kind of man who did good, tried to live good and all. But the worst part, he tried changing me to have this outlook in life – especially after we got married.
He found fault with every single friend of mine. They were too rowdy, crazy, weird. How could I think of spending so much time on nonsensical things like girls’ night out? Shouldn’t I use that energy on our kids? Being a mother? Joining mother’s union ventures that brought good to the world not wiling away with vagabonds?
I took it all in. I loved him. Wanted to please him. And in doing so, he killed me, stifled the life out of me. I wasn’t anymore Anita Nthambi. I was Jame’s creation- a mousy little woman who smiled but cried inside. I was his perfect creation, his little minion.
Sometimes in my charitable moments, I don’t blame him. I blame myself. I blame myself for letting James take away Anita the woman. The woman who loved partying, who found joy in everything. Found contentment by just surrounding herself with everything that made her an individual not someone’s wife or mother. I blame myself for letting James take away parts of me for the 10 years we had been married. I blame myself for being the perfect everything. And a shell inside.
One word for my marital bed bliss would be sedate. My husband never did anything untoward. He was also ‘good’ in bed. All religious. “Sex was meant for creation not pleasure”, he told me one day when I made to fight his control. I wanted to fondle him as I had watched in the movies and my secret vagabond friend Alice had suggested I give it a try.
It had seemed exciting, something he would like. Instead, as usual, he had switched off the lights, hiked my night dress and proceeded to take me with no preambles. With a grunt, he had found his pleasure and turned on his side fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He didn’t get to witness my bleak expression in the darkened room as I tried to muffle my frustrated tears. Or how broken I felt because of his callousness.
Didn’t he know there was more to just rutting inside of me? That I needed connection, some sort of intimacy? Oh God. Frustration and hatred started festering in my heart. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I wanted more. I craved more. And I knew I could get more too out of a sexual act- the steamy Google sites and erotica novels assured me of that fact. And Alice.
It’s almost embarrassing to admit this. When I got married to James, I had no sexual experience just a few chaste kisses. I had been keeping myself for the right man. So all I knew, was what I had heard from classmates in college. But again, who believed all that crap? So when I got married, three years into the marriage, I begun feeling like something huge was missing in my sexual life and I was curious . I started doing research online whenever I had time in the office or James was out running errands – this was before my two kids came along.
It was soothing to just tune off for a while when James was not around, get some lube and an erotic piece and masturbate. Later, I would feel guilty like a drug addict but still, do it again and again. I became so addicted to pleasuring myself that, James dismissal performance didn’t affect me much.
I got my babies between my fourth and sixth year of marriage and decided to close the chapter. Things were okay between James and I but a little strained. I had started seeing how much being married to him had affected me in the most negative ways. It didn’t help that my mother in law found fault in everything that I did. And it influenced our marriage so drastically that, James, couldn’t bare touching me. I was fine with that. It’s not like I was missing anything.
I turned fully to my online erotic materials and novels. I started learning everything I could. It became so addictive that I would fantasize all the time. And I became less guilty and more liberated in my mind. That part of me that I had buried, that my husband found repulsive awakened in my new sexual awareness. I wanted to be liberated sexually; thus my was attraction to BDSM on a certain level.
My experience with my husband indicated I was a natural sub. But what would it feel like to be one sexually? I can’t count how many times, years, I just wondered and fantasized but didn’t do anything until the loneliness, isolation got the best of me.
It was okay to occasionally finger myself when I felt the urge. Or secretly creep in the bathroom in the middle of the night with my dildo and ease the tension. But now, it arose other urges too. Like what it would feel like to actually experience a real man? A man who could appreciate me in a sexual way? A man who was willing to play with no commitments? A man who was a savage, a brute…#sigh. Was it possible to get such a man?
“Babe, if you sure you want to jump into the cheating band wagon, I know just the site you can hitch a hook up. “, Alice told me with a wink. We had met at Junction at Art Cafe’ per my request. She was the only friend James approved of. He thought he was okay according to his standards. Little did he know she was a she-devil in sheep’s clothing. We would usually laugh just thinking how James would react if he knew the kind of influence Alice had in my life.
Taking a sip of my white coffee, “Well, no one wants to ever cheat. At least I don’t. But in my case, I just want a little bit of fun”, I responded trying to sound flippant. Deep down, myriad of emotions bombarded me.
“Okay then Anita. You will definitely land some, some. You still pretty. Can’t believe you are about to hit 33!” Alice said giving me her sexy frank perusal. “I see your gals are holding. I remember how those dudes in college will practically trip all over themselves when they spotted them. Those were good times. And damn momma! You spotting that petite figure and no baby fats. You look 25 or there about.” I laughed it off. Alice was such a comedian and not to mention a bisexual. She was right though. My boobies still got that same kind of attention .
“So Alice, how do I get laid? “, I giggled. I couldn’t believe I had just said that. “Well, I usually use Tagged if I just want it to be all business. It just pinpoints you any guy you like. And if he likes you back, wallah!” She made it sound easy and I think my disbelief showed on my face.
“Haha I know you new to this things. But I tell you, it’s as easy as that. Trust the single one”, she pointed at herself before continuing, “So what do you fancy? Tall, dark and handsome ama?”
I already knew what kind of guy I wanted. He would be ruggedly handsome and exude primal sexuality; not overly stated but toned and smart enough to carry out any fantasy I had in mind.
And that’s how I ended up with Gitenge and in Satellite. He was in his mid twenties – an aspiring doctor apparently to my shock when I later found out. But again, you can be book smart but socially incapacitated in a sense. Who was judging anyway?
My memories were cut shot as I felt Gite stirring. I was snuggled on his arms. My body was aligned to his in the best way. I could feel his shaft awakening too as he wound his arm around me landing on one of my nipples. A sigh escaped me. I was in heaven and I loved it.
As I was getting caught up in the whirl wind that he was creating inside me, I knew with all certainty what I had to do. I couldn’t go back to who I was or had been. I loved my husband yes, but if he couldn’t change to accommodate me, well… Maybe it would be time to go for that kind of guy I had started fancying while my husband was too blind to notice what was happening to us. You know, cute, nerdy and a sapio with a good body to pet?
As the candle flickered, capturing Gite’s profile reflecting his lust, passion, I knew I couldn’t settle for less. And as he lowered his mouth on mine, I should have felt guilty, shame for cheating on a good man. But I didn’t. Instead, I experienced a sense of liberation, freedom for the first time in so many years. How could I judge myself when I was at my happiest at that moment in time?