This Type Love..

I decided to conclude Valentine's Day with my favorite love poem. I hope that everyone has the opportunity to have...This Type Love (by Shihan).
X0X0 Tesha





This type love
--Shihan

I want a love like me thinking of you thinking of me thinking of you TYPE LOVE
or me telling my friends more than I've ever admitted to myself about how I feel about you TYPE LOVE
or hating how jealous you are but loving how much you want me all to yourself TYPE LOVE.
Or seeing how your first name just sounds so good next to my last name.

And shit-
I wanted to see how far I could get without calling you and I barely made it out of my garage.
See, I want a love that makes me wait until she falls asleep then wonder if she's dreaming about us being in love TYPE LOVE
or who loves the other more or what she's doing at this exact moment or slow dancing in the middle of our apartment to the music of our hearts.
Closing my eyes and imagining how a love so good could just hurt so much when she's not there and shit, I love not knowing where this love is headed TYPE LOVE.

And check this-
I wanna place those little post-it notes all around the house so she never forgets how much I love her TYPE LOVE,
Then not have enough ink in my pen to write all the love TYPE LOVE and hope I make her feel as good as she makes me feel.
And I wanna deal with my friends making fun of me the way I made fun of them when they went through the same kind of love TYPE LOVE.
The only difference is this is one of those real love TYPE LOVES.

And just like in high school I wanna spend hours on the phone not saying shit and then fall asleep and then wake up with her right next to me and smell her all up in my covers TYPE LOVE.
And I wanna try counting the ways I love her then lose count in the middle just so I could start all over again.
And I wanna celebrate one of those one-month anniversaries even though they ain't really anniversaries but doing it just 'cause it makes her happy TYPE LOVE.

And check this-
I wanna fall in love with the melody the phone plays when our numbers dial in TYPE LOVE
and talk to you until I lose my breath, she leaves me breathless, but with the expanding of my lungs I inhale all of her back into me.
I want a love that makes me need to change my cell phone calling plan to something that allows me to talk to her longer 'cause in all honesty, I want to avoid one of them high cell phone bill TYPE LOVES.
And I don't want a love that makes me regret how small my hands are. I mean the lines on my palms don't give me enough time to love you as long as I'd like to TYPE LOVE.

And I want a love that makes me st-st-st-stutter just thinking about how strong this love is TYPE LOVE
and I want a love that makes me want to cut off all my hair.
Well maybe not all of the hair, maybe like I'd cut the split ends and trim my mustache but it would still be a symbol of how strong my love is for her.

I kind of feel comfortable now so I even be fantasizing about walking out on a green light just dying to get hit by a car just so I could lose my memory, get transported to some third world country just to get treated and somehow meet up again with you so I could fall in love with you in a different language and see if it still feels the same TYPE LOVE.

I want a love that's as unexplainable as she is.

Solitary Definement

***This one is dedicated to all those single folks who aren't afraid of loving themselves***

I don’t see why people always get so crazy when Valentine’s Day comes around. It is one day out of the year where people feel worse about themselves for being single or without a Valentine or without a date. It’s also set up by “Them” to increase capitalistic consumerism. Shouldn’t LOVE be celebrated EVERYDAY? And does Valentine’s Day have to be spent with anyone other than yourself?

What is wrong with WANTING to be single and being a woman? Am I SUPPOSED to want to be with a man, but doomed to be called a lesbian because I don’t necessarily feel like a man is needed in my life…right now? I’m not in dire need of a man, so I’m not a lesbian. I love dick, but I’m not a whore. I’m independent, but I’m not cold.

Aggghhh! These thoughts are driving me crazy!

I catch myself pulling at my hair and staring blankly at today’s Lifetime movie of the week. I’ve been bombarded by these thoughts all week leading up to today, Valentine’s Eve. Like anyone, it would be nice to have SOMEONE for Valentine’s Day, but I’d rather not be poked at by some lover that thinks he’s special because I call him on Valentine’s Day.

I get up from my bed and walk to my laptop on my desk, trying to make a last minute decision of whether to “follow in the heartbeats of the masses” or brave it alone and risk being a pariah.

I log on to both Facebook and Twitter to find out what the events are between today and tomorrow. They have everything from Hedonistic Poetic Throngs to Anti-Love Events. They all felt clichéd to me, even if they were on opposite sides of the spectrum.

I sigh as I close my computer, engrossed with the thought of my own “anti-Valentine’s Day” plans.

“Why do I have to eulogize a holiday, that’s not REALLY a holiday?” I ponder to myself.

I rise from my desk and stand in front of my window, hoping that the afternoon sun will shine light on some idea as to how to get through the triteness of the “holiday.”

And just like that, just when I start to succumb to single person’s loathing, it hits me that you aren’t really alone unless you explicitly make yourself alone. I have great friends, family, and lovers that keep me busy and occupied all the time. What I don’t have is the time to spend with myself.

I quickly walk back to my desk, opening my computer again, and start to type in the Google search bar for hotels in downtown Atlanta….that are available for tomorrow. I find the Ellis Hotel right in the heart of downtown off of Andrew Young blvd.

It was quite an impressive hotel from its pictures on the website. It had a spacious and cozy bedroom, large and modern bathroom, it was in the heart of downtown so when I got bored with spending time with myself all I had to do was step outside the hotel and pick a direction to walk. I book my reservation for tomorrow and jump out of the chair to pack an overnight bag.

The Next Day….

I was so giddy I damn near tripped over my own feet. It had been a long time since I was able to take time away from by hectic domain without feeling guilty for doing it alone.

I finish getting stuff together in my overnight bag: toothbrush and paste, clothes, shower gel/ body wash, facial cleanser and makeup, last but not least, shoes.

I pack my computer into its case and pray that I don’t submerge myself into the Twitter culture. If there is one thing I want to accomplish on my weekend of solace it is to not be imbued by the social media.

On second thought…I think I’ll leave the computer. I opt for my iPod and some portable speakers.

I turn off all the lights, except for the one over the stove and the night lights through-out the house, and head out to the car. I through my overnight bag in the back seat, close the door and listen to the whizz of the garage door as it opens. I take a deep breath, braving this self-inflicted journey and then question why I felt so scared in the first place. I pull out of the garage and make my way to downtown, praying traffic doesn’t meet me on the highway.

I pull up to the Ellis Hotel, amazed by its immaculate structure, proximity to everything downtown, and it’s much welcomed southern charm.

I walk through the lobby and am greeted by all things chic and cherubic. The lobby wasn’t just filled with priceless art, it was also filled with deep red roses, bowls of chocolate and candy, waiters passing with carts of champagne and strawberries. If there was a way to deteriorate the level of elegance in an upscale hotel, I have certainly found it.

I walk to the front desk to check-in, wanting my walking nightmare to end. Of course, the clerk wants to take her precious time with finding my reservation. She finally gives me a key to my junior sweet, making the knife cut even deeper by “reminding” me that Champagne and chocolate are delivered for free to couples in all suites. I thank her, keeping my sarcasm at bay, and climb into the elevator. I take a deep breath, glad that the torture is over and I was able to get through it.

I find my room 1432, [1-I, 4-Love, 3-You, 2-2] how ironic. Slipping the key into the lock I enter to an immaculately laid out modern escape. I drop my bags on the middle of the floor, take off my shoes, plug in my iPod and immediately jump on the bed like I did when I was a carefree child.

I giggle uncontrollably as I finally step down off the bed.

“I’ve always wanted to do that…” I say to myself.

I check out the bathroom to which I find a gorgeous bowl sink, large garden tub with jets, and a spa feeling that just can’t be created at home. The hotel even took care to place a dish of candles on the counter.

It’s still early yet, so I entertain myself with taking a hot bubble bath. I fill the tub with hot water and load it with lavender and jasmine scented bubble bath. I light the vanilla scented candles on the counter. I go back to my room to retrieve my bag and get out a couple of things before returning to the bathroom. I watch myself undress in the bathroom mirror. Going slow, seducing myself.

I slowly submerge my body into the hot water, allowing it to get used to the heat. For a long time, I relax there alone contemplating my life, what it means, and what makes me truly happy.

Lady Love serenades my mind with her anthems of love, loss, lust, and liberty.

I sing along as I soap the washcloth with the jasmine and lavender wash. With lethargic circles, I wash my body, metaphorically cleansing myself of the notion that to be happy I had to be in love with someone. Sometimes God chooses situations to put you in to grow; there are times when it involves people and others when it involves self. This was my situation of self.

I rinse the suds off of my skin and exit the tub, wrapping the terry cloth hotel bathrobe around myself.

“I wonder if they will charge my bill if this robe ‘some how’ came up missing,” I contemplate.

I wasn’t ready to take that chance so I banished the thought from my mind with a snicker.

As I exit, my stomach begins to grumble obscenities at me.

“Damn, when was the last time I ate” I wonder.

I pick up the hotel telephone and order a Turkey BLT with potato chips, a bowl of tomato bisque and sweet tea from room service. The operator assures me it will be ready in approximately 15 minutes. I thank her and hang up the phone. In the meantime, I take the bottle of lotion and moisturize my body, making myself aroused as I moisturize my breasts, stomach, and thighs.

I make myself comfortable beneath the terry cloth robe, I lean over to find my bag at the foot of the bed and reach into it to find my “lil’ companion” also known as “Battery Operated Boyfriend” or BOB for short. I challenge myself to see if I could cum before the food arrives.

I lean back on the bed, make myself comfortable, and invite him in inch by inch. There was no need for foreplay since I had played with myself for about 10 minutes prior to requesting his presence. Once he is totally encased between my legs, I press his on switch and allow him to not only turn me on but to take me over the edge.

What I like most about BOB is that he not only vibrates, but he rotates, pulsates, and strokes. You can’t find a better “boyfriend” than that. I lose myself in his many mechanical mannerisms.

As he massages my cavern, he takes me to valleys, over mountains, and through forests. Right as my orgasm has me in deep conversation with mythical creatures, there is a knock at the door and a “Room service,” from a male voice.

“Give me a moment,” I yell to the door as I finish riding the last of the orgasmic currents. I return my portable lover back to his place of hiding, straighten myself out and answer the door.

I am greeted by the most magnificent looking specimen of a man I have ever seen in my life. He is a handsome dark brown, exotic looking creature. He smiles at me as I stare into his starry eyes.

“You requested room service?” He asks. I am so mesmerized by the brightness of his teeth that all I can do is shake my head and step aside so he can push the cart into my suite.

I imagine naughty, dirty, nasty things he can do to me while I stay there in the hotel; I start to tell him a little bit of my fantasy, but opt to ask him if he is single and his phone number.

He smiles at me, “Yes, and if I give you my number, you promise you’re gonna call me?” He asks. I nod my head yes, assuring myself that he is one worthy of a phone call.

He says confidently, “My number is 404-555-0576.” And then he exits, flashing me that award winning smile again.

“Oh I got some plans for you Mr. Sexy, but tonight is just for me,” I say to myself.

I look over at the clock on the nightstand, and rush to finish getting ready.

I take one last look at myself before heading out to my “date.” Damn, I look good…mission accomplished.

I exit the hotel and make my way to the Cobb Energy Center to see the Atlanta Ballet in Cinderella. I’ve always wanted to go to the ballet, but multiple boyfriends felt it was too feminine of a date to invite me.

I leave the Cobb Energy Center in jealous tears. Damn, if love was ACTUALLY like that….I don’t think ANYONE would have anything to worry about. Divorce wouldn’t exist and all couples, though riddled with adversity would not only get through it but get through it happily and together.

I conclude this part of my date by taking a trip to Cami Cakes, off of Peachtree Street. I enter, indulging in their extraordinarily unique and delectable confections. I order a chocolate raspberry, almond cupcake and milk. The cashier tells me that the owner of the shop, made each of her cupcakes a little extra special today by placing love notes and quotes in the center of each cupcake.

On the side of my cupcake, my message sticks out willing me to see what inspiration lies in wake for me….I consider what I’ve learned about myself this Valentine’s Day as I pull the message out of the cupcake.

“The more I Love myself, the more others will love me (power thought)”

Virtual Reality

Sigh

I haven’t heard from him in more than a week. Normally it would be okay, since he’s close by, but currently he is in a whole other country; a dangerous country, where any day could be your last and everyday you are in fight or flight mode.

I missed him with all my heart, but I was pissed off at him all the same. Another couple of days go by before he makes himself visible again and I was relieved, I unintentionally kept myself occupied by watching CNN and scaring myself shitless. But when he finally emailed me to tell me he was safe, alive, and missing me I couldn’t help but to smile and feel relieved.

He told me to get on to iChat at 11 pm my time, wear something sexy and be ready to have a long but satisfying chat. I look down at the clock and realize it’s a little after 9:30 pm. I get up from the computer, take a shower, lotion, and find something sexy to wear for our chat. I find a nice black lacy number that I remember made him rock steady the last time I saw him in person. Slipping the garment on, I neglect the matching panty that comes with it. I light some candles, get a bowl of strawberries and turn on soft music to keep my mind at ease and prevent my mouth from asking overbearing questions.

I want to be in a serenely sensual mood when I get to talk to him. I know his time is usually limited or quickly interrupted by the faulty internet connection there, so I reserve the tongue lashing for another day. Tonight, I wanted him. I wanted the reality of him being right there with me. I wanted to close my eyes and imagine that he was right there, safe in my arms, but for tonight I would take what I could get….his deep baritone voice, his lingual lyricism, and his simulated image on my computer screen.

10:57.
I feel myself getting anxious, butterflies doing triple axels in my stomach. I turn my computer on, log into iChat and await the virtual arrival of my lover.
The chimes signify his presence online and I find myself more than elated to see for myself that he is still himself. Before we interrupt the airspace with our words of endearment, we stare at each other through digital electronic eyes.

“Hey Baby,” he says, his smooth voice permeating my aural senses.
He grins at me knowing that if it wasn’t for his long awaited communication, I would have lit into him a long time ago.

“Hey yourself,” I say to him, trying to hide my grin. “I thought about you all week…you know the same week you decided to be MIA, invisible, ‘where’s Waldo?”’

“Ssshh, baby. I don’t want to fight with you about losing all forms of communication due to a loose suicide bomber. All I want to talk about is how much I love you, miss you, and want to caress your shivering body after you descend from the far reaches of heaven,” he exclaims.

I must admit, he does a great job of silencing me with the simplest of scripts.

“I don’t mean to be so upset, but you really had me worried. I watched CNN everyday praying to God that I wouldn’t see your name as one of the killed civilians. My Google alert is set to “your name” and “killed.” I just wished you would at least give me some sign, even when it’s impossible to let me know you are okay.” I exclaim candidly.

As I speak, I see him shift in his seat and his face change from joy to a bit of sadness.

“Well, baby girl, I just hope you know in your heart that if anything happens to me that you are my everything and that I love you with every breadth of my being.” He says with sincerity.

Tears start to form in my eyes at the thought of losing him so suddenly for something so senseless. I admire the fact that he was able to bravely leave his home country and work in another county to ensure the wealth he wants that would’ve taken him decades to attain otherwise.

“Hey,” he says, “I don’t want to see you cry. Let’s play a game to take your mind of the negative.”

“Well what are we about to play?” I ask him.

“Simon Sez or rather I says…” He exclaims.

“You know, that’s funny since your name actually is Simon,” I chuckle

His face tells me he is serious and I patiently wait to hear what his commands are going to be. I feel a bit giddy, and yet the thought of what is on his mind has me feeling a kind of tingly in certain parts of my body.

“I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath,” He instructs.

I listen, taking a deep and controlled breath.

“Now, I see you have brought some strawberries to our meeting. Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy watching you each strawberries? I like the way your lips wrap around the bright red fruit and form an ‘O.’ I want you to take a strawberry, tease it with your tongue, slowly slip it halfway into your mouth and gently nibble on it. Savoring the juices as they drain on your anxious tongue.”

I’ve always known how much he loved my lips. It’s evident whenever I see him in person; he always greets me with the longest, most passionate kisses.

I tease him a little with my strawberry display, grazing the strawberry across my lips, allowing the strange texture to stimulate me. I examine the bumpy surface of the strawberry with my tongue, getting to know each seed personally. I place more than half of it into my mouth allowing it to fill my oral cavity before wrapping my lips around its circular body and taking a bite out of it.

I hear him silently moan as I take his directions to the next level.

“Mmmm…okay. Well, you are quite the student. You ready for your next set of instructions?” He asks.

I shake my head yes, anticipating what other sensual things he is going to watch me do.

“Next, I want you to turn up the classic Sade you have playing in the background and find something to blindfold yourself with,” he requests.

I turn the volume of the music player up on my laptop and get up to find a blind fold.I return with a black satin/ velvet sleep mask. I place it over my head and allow the other senses to amplify.

“I want you to imagine that I am there, behind you, my hands exploring the surface of your body. I want your hands to start its journey from your hair, fingers running through your soft strands. Massaging your temples, releasing the built up tension of the day.”

My hands, emulating his, run themselves through my luxurious hair massaging my scalp and my temples. Even through a computer screen, he can tell that I am stressed.

“Massage your temples, releasing the built up tension of the day. Let your fingers explore the curvature of your face beginning with your hairline and working your way down to your chin. I want your fingers to glide across your eyelids, ski down your nose, and skate across your lips. Take a detour to your cheeks and swim in your sexy ass dimples.”

I have to chuckle, he truly has a way with words. With his witty ass….

I take my time massaging my temples, applying pressure to the area where my hair follicles meet my face, taking pleasure in feeling the tension exit my body. I gently tickle the sides of my face and my chin with my fingers giving me a feeling of feathers tickling my face. It makes me chuckle a bit and remember the last time I saw Simon. He literally had huge feathers, tickling my face. I smile on the inside about that thought.

I move the mask from my eyes that remain closed and get acquainted with their spherical shape and jumpiness to the touch. My fingers trace along my eye lashes, giving me an awkward but fun feeling. I touch my nose, not really interested in staying there. It just doesn’t turn me on to touch my nose, but my lips….my lips have swelled with shear anticipation from wanting to be kissed. For now I will have to settle with my own touch, his voice, and my imagination. I caress my sensitive lips, outlining their fullness, admiring their smooth texture, exhilarating in their ability to make me wet from my touch. My fingers cuddle my cheeks as they detour to the canyons that are my dimples.

I look at the computer screen and see that he has made himself more than comfortable at his desk. I can tell that he is getting off on the show I am putting on for him and wait for him to push me further. I replace the blind fold and await his instructions.

“I know me being so far away from you has caused you to have plenty of tension in your shoulders and neck, give yourself a massage for me.”

I massage my neck by rubbing it in slow circular motions, meditating as I do this to relinquish the tension further. I hug myself to rub my shoulders, imaging he is there behind me making everything “normal” and safe again. I get myself into a deep relaxing mood, coupled with the soothing sounds of his voice coaching my every move.

“Yeah, baby. Let’s turn this game way up now. Simon says fondle your titties and nipples like they will perish if you don’t.”

Before he even told me what he wanted me to do, I was already making my way to my soft, chocolaty mounds. I slowly take an arm out of the little lacy nightie I am wearing, exposing my left breast, giving him my own version of nipple gate. My right hand supports my left breast like a mother holding her dear child. I take pride in the fact that I have a large chest, I especially take pride that my large breasts enables me to personally suck on them for my absent lover. I lift my left breast to my mouth and suckle on it, imagining Simon’s face panged with pleasure and delight. I rub my right breast and give my nipple a pinch, succumbing to the feelings arising from my body. My left breast escapes my mouth and I caress them together, giving them harmonious attention.

I take the game of “Simon Sez” and turn it into “Read his mind” as my digits descend past my rib cage, below my belly button and towards the “island of intensification.” I am getting towards the point of no return when my fingers find themselves submerged in the ocean currents of my pussy.

I scoot away from the computer and rest each leg on the side of the computer, so Simon can have an HD view of my personal assault on my pussy.

Entertained by my solitary sex, my ears peak when I hear that Simon has joined our game and began to fondle himself as well. I take off the blindfold, gluing my eyes to the screen, becoming the voyeur.

Simon has backed away from the computer a bit to allow me to see his massive dick being stroked by his masculine hands. Call me perverted but I really enjoy watching him jack off, like most girls. I try my hardest not to get distracted by the sight of his masturbating and with my open eyes continue to concentrate on the climax playing Jenga inside my body. I don’t quite want the blocks to topple, but it is slowly becoming precarious.

My fingers massage the inside of my pussy, finding my g-spot and not allowing it to be lost again…at least for the next couple of minutes. I am getting turned on from the warmth that surrounds my fingers, the sight and sound of Simon’s grunts and strokes.

I feel the pressure rising inside my tea kettle, I’m about to blow my whistle.

“Don’t cum yet, I want you to come with me baby …” He requests.

He’s lucky he said something. Another few seconds longer and I would have been seeing all the colors of the rainbow.

I decrease my intensity, waiting for Simon, matching his pace. As he strokes faster, I manipulate harder. I match him stroke for stroke, moan for moan. Orgasm is knocking at both our doors…

I surprise myself by squirting continuously, seeing clouds made of cotton candy and unicorns from the intensity of the orgasm.

Several orgasms later, my descension from heaven is complete and my senses return to normal. I take my legs from the top of the desk and sit up to see Simon.

I’m not sure when it happened, but in the midst of our simultaneous solo sexing, the internet connection dies out and we lose our connection…

I clean myself off, thinking, “Damn, Simon didn’t even say good bye,” I chuckle wondering when our next video chat session will be.

Dinner for 2...

Linda

Ugh! It was a terrible day at work. The kids would not sit down since they were high on all the Valentines candy, cookies, and cupcakes. I think all that sugar causes them to detract from the idea that some students don't have real admirers. Sad, really. Honestly Valentine’s Day should only be allowed when you hit dating age, whenever that is for the average person. Now I'm not even motivated to do anything for this "special day" and I don't want to be a bitch to Jamal. I told him that I would cook him a special dinner but Lord knows I only know how to burn and boil things. He loves me enough to eat my cooking anyway, I'm sure I can do at least this for him.

Jamal

I know Linda had a tough day at work, how could I not know since she text and tweeted about it all day. I know she is supposed to cook this big dinner but I don't know. I love my baby, Lord knows I do, but she's a terrible cook. This baffles me since her mom, sister, and aunts all can throw down. I got an idea....

Linda

I pull up to the house and see that Jamal's car isn't there. I figure he's at the gym or the park and utilize the time trying to get myself out of my funk. No man wants to be around a cranky woman....especially not on Valentine’s Day. I go up to our bathroom and run a hot bath, filling the tub with sweet pea scented bath gel inhaling the aroma willing it to take away the negativity that has crept into my body. I undress and examine my body, searching for new blemishes or creases or whatever it is I tend to look for. I enter the bath water slowly, luxuriating in the heat and steam until I have completely immersed myself in the aromatic sanctuary. "Calgon, take me away...and don't bring me back"

Jamal

If I know my wife, she’s at home sulking in the tub wishing she could erase the day from her memory. I'm at the grocery store picking up things for our dinner: Merlot, bell peppers, Zataran's dirty rice, chicken breasts, organic spinach, mozzarella cheese, whipped cream [for dessert, I grin to myself] and chocolate sauce [also, for dessert, I chuckle]. I pay for the items and smile at the thought of what will take place tonight.

Linda

I get out of the tub just as Jamal's SUV pulls up. "Shit! I should have been downstairs preparing to cook!" I hurriedly dry off, lotion, and dress. I comb my hair to the back and out of my face. I saunter down the stairs, making myself laugh by imaging I'm in one of those old 1940's movies and I'm the featured lounge singer. I hear bags rustling and see Jamal has chosen what he wants me to cook for him.

"Well hey baby. What do we have here?" I ask him.

He replies with excitement, "Hey Boo, I got an idea!"

"Alright well let me hear it..." I prod.

"I know you wanted to cook me something super spectacular today being 'Lover's Day' but...how about we cook together?" he grins a wide toothy grin at me.

His words are like a cool breeze in the middle of July. Comforting and unexpected. But I try not to let him see my elation.

"Oh, I thought you wanted me to cook for you tonight?" I exclaim with faux sadness.

"Oh! Well, I figured since you had such a tough day that you would want some help in the kitchen and try something a little bit different. I was thinking we could make some stuffed bell peppers, baked chicken, and baby spinach. What do you say?" he inquires.

I turn to him with a jubilant express, "Damn I knew there was a reason why I loved you. I'm guessing this is your way of letting me know that you don't want me to kill you with my cooking," we chuckle.

"Well not exactly. And what are you saying? I love your cooking!" he lies with a smirk. "I just figured we could try something new.....and no one has to die in the process...." he laughs.

"Alright Chef J. Tell me what to do." I tell him.

"Well, let's start by boiling some water." He says.

Linda

I set the pot of water on the stove and let it boil. Next we cut slits into the chicken breasts, season it with herbs and olive oil and place it in the oven. Then he teaches me how to pit the peppers by standing behind me and reaching around my waist. I was so lost in the indentations his dick was leaving on my ass that I'm sure I only heard about 10% of what he told me.

I take each pause as an opportunity to give him a deep sensual kiss and to tell him how much I love him.

When the water comes to a boil, I empty the container of dirty rice and let it cook for about ten minutes. Once all the ingredients have cooked, sans the chicken, he teaches me how to stuff the rice into the cavity of the bell pepper.

I don't know how horny I must've been, but something about the rounded end of the spoon going into the hollowed pepper.....never mind.

We top the peppers with grated cheese and place in the oven for 15 minutes. By this time the chicken is tender and juicy and ready to be eaten.

While he fixes our plates, I set the dinner table making sure to light some tall candles and put on some soft music.

I seat myself and await him.

"Voila! Stuffed peppers with chicken and spinach. Courtesy of Chefs J&L" he announces.

We eat our dinner and discuss over candlelight, when all of a sudden he clears our plates from the table.

"Where are you going?" I ask him.

"I'd tell you, but I'd rather show you" he says.

"Uhm okay." I state

"Do me a favor: blow out the candles and put this on," he holds up a slinky negligée in his favorite color, money green.

"Oh ho! Somebody has been plotting dirty this whole time!" I chuckle.

"Yeah, well if you hurry up and put this on, you can see EXACTLY how dirty I want to be..." he raises an eyebrow. And before he can blink, I'm snatching the garment from his hands and taking off up the stairs.

I change into this short green number, with thin lacy straps and lace detail along the bust and sides. I decide to take the sexiness up a notch by tousling my hair and throwing on my 5 inch black stiletto pumps.

I glide down the stairs to find Jamal has started a fire in the living room and placed a blanket in front of it. He comes to me and kisses me softly on the lips and assists me on the blanket.

He begins this slow sensual ride by holding me close between his legs as I face him. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear, immediately making me moist and him hard. He massages my temples and caresses my shoulders. He whispers "lay down on your back," and I obey.

He takes my left foot, the overly sensitive foot, and sprays cool whip cream from my toes to my inner thigh. And as skillfully as an oral painter, he slows brushes his tongue on my soft canvas, erasing the cream off and leaving translucent wet marks on my legs and feet.

He takes his time with the other foot before he continues the adventure to the rest of my body. Before I can realize we've changed dessert courses, I'm lying on my stomach with chocolate sauce dripping down my back. He knows my spot lies on the surface of my back and he exploits this for what feels like an eternity.

Grateful, satiated, and horny I return the favor to his dick, making my own chocolate covered banana split WITH nuts and whipped cream. I give his dick the kind of loving that only a fellatio addicted wife can give.

I’m so glad we decided to cook together because the dessert...was well worth it….

The Rekindling

We broke up on my own accord in the past. It got to the point where we weren’t going forward and going backward seemed like a hazy déjà vu. I felt like our relationship was becoming that of the worse kind, comfortable. When you get comfortable in your relationship, you feel like it isn’t necessary to do things to keep the other intrigued and wanting you. I’ve always said that being in a relationship is like a roller coaster where the rails that keep the ride going is L-O-V-E. There are always ups and downs in a relationship, but do you go along for the adventure or do you ride with your eyes closed, scared to open them?

We weren’t quite dating anymore, but it was obvious that we were heading down that road again. Between the long conversations, walks in the park, and continuous phone calls I was beginning to forget we broke up in the first place. I guess it’s true what they say, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder and presence makes it feel complete.”

It was the 5^th or 6^th week since we began our foundation building extravaganza and I was really getting to like it. Actually I was loving it; we were doing things that we had only talked about in the past, but time and no desire had prevented us from taking those essential times necessary to keep a relationship fresh.

Now that the option of not being together was floating in the air, he was doing his best to wine me, dine me, and keep me for the long haul. And I was doing my best to accept his advances while keeping my ego at bay and heart open to the possibilities.

Through this process we learned some new things and rekindled some previous things about each other. We spent more time together in the past month than we had in the final few weeks of our relationship.

Today, being a not so special occasion, we decided to try out a new restaurant. Our restaurant rotation is normally as follows: Local Mexican restaurant, Downtown nostalgic burger joint, Famous pizza spot, and Greatest Italian place ever. Although we weren’t tired of the rotation, we figured it would be a good night to try something different…something sexy.

It was a long time since I’d had my stomach become entangled in knots, but the “fresh and new” excursion was definitely adding some positive anxiety to our night. I stepped outside wearing a strapless, earth tone, multi-colored striped maxi dress. A dress that was sure to force him to look at my ample cleavage all night. ;)

I stepped in his car, feeling slightly awkward about whether to lean over for a kiss or be overtly friendly and simply say hello. Since we weren’t sure if a kiss was appropriate at the present time in our…situation, he instead kissed my hand and told me I looked beautiful.

We arrived at Café Divan, one of Atlanta’s sexiest and nicest Mediterranean restaurants. The valet took his keys and parked his car ensuring to give him his ticket. We stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by the aromatics of fruity hookahs, the essence of roasted herbed chicken and lamb, and the romantic atmosphere Café Divan had to offer.

The waitress escorted us to our seat, a private elevated booth with a heavy velvet curtain. It was quite a surprise to me, since I was sure booths like this, in this restaurant HAD to cost a ton of money. Noticing the perplexed look on my face, he simply turned to me and smiled.

I made myself comfortable on the large pillows available as my seat and looked at the menu. Half of the foods couldn’t even be pronounced, but thank God for the English descriptions under the title.

As we fretted over what was “safe” to eat, he ordered us a small hookah requesting the strawberry flavor. Finally after much debating, we ordered. I decided to get the Shish Köfte, an entrée of marinated lamb spiced and grilled; served with rice pilaf and vegetables. He chose the Köy Chicken-chicken breast sautéed with garlic, oregano, fresh tomatoes and mushrooms, his favorite, and served with rice pilaf and vegetables.

As we waited for our meal to be served, we appetized ourselves on the sweet tasting hookah. It was my first time, so he had to teach me what to do: he told me to wrap my lips around the pipe and suck the flavored air into my mouth, savor its flavor and then blow. He also had to teach me precautions like not holding in the smoke and tricks such as how to blow the smoke out of my nose. He tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me how to blow smoke rings, but I settled on irregular ovals.

We had a great conversation, most of it filled with innuendo, increasing the already tensing sexual tension. As he told me about the craziness at his job, my mind wandered to the possibility of “Us” and what that could mean again. My mind wasn’t quite ready for that plunge, but my heart, the eternal optimist, was. I wanted him back; I just needed a sign to know that it would be a good decision for us to try to make it work again.

He faces me, gently placing his finger under my chin, looking deeply into my eyes. For a moment we don’t say anything, allowing the Turkish music and restaurant chatter to be our soundtrack. The butterflies in my stomach do somersaults as I breathe in his cologne, Pleasure by Estee Lauder if my memory serves me right. It’s as if he was searching my soul. Climbing the mountain peaks of my heart, swimming through the currents of my mind, hoping to discover what was and has always been there…my love for him. I look away, excusing myself to the ladies room.

I find myself searching my own soul wondering if my mind and heart have come to a junction. I sigh, absorbing my decision and return to him.

I slide something to him, just as our food arrives.