It's 2011 and no matter how many warnings and campaigns created to protect the world from viruses and STDs, people still enjoy raw sex. I have seen brothers on the internet who advertise that they are only into raw sex, yet their HIV status is negative. Really? Are we that naïve? Any fool should know better. But I guess in some cases, we all are fools for slipping and sliding our lives away in the privacy of our homes and in the darkness of our bedrooms. We continue to do things that remain unspeakable to our peers. Privacy is one thing but shit, we talk about everything else. I think sex should be talked about freely, why must we hide what we do?
Four months into the year and I was starting to have a jones for HIM. It was a cold December night that left me speechless as he said to me "I guess I will see you next year." I promised myself that I would never let another man have me so whipped that I would damn near give him my paycheck, but it happened anyway.
It was a mere two hours before quitting time at the office. The city streets were already bustling with a Friday frenzy that only New Yorkers can produce. My phone buzzed. It was a text message from HIM.
"Whassup Court? You miss me?"
My body trembled at the first glance of his name across my Blackberry screen. It took me twenty minutes to respond, not that I didn't want to, I just knew where the conversation could lead to... my bedroom. With trepidation, I responded to his random text.
"I see someone has resurfaced."
Immediately he responded asking what time I wanted to see him. How presumptuous, of him I thought, knowing damn well it was what I'd hoped he would ask. So, we made plans for nine o'clock.
When he entered my apartment, he smelled like he was fresh from the barber's chair. The hairy residue on his collar proved my theory. He sat down on the couch and commenced to rolling a purple haze filled blunt.
"Some things never change," I blurted.
"Don't play. This is exactly what you like and you know it." He retorted. I grinned and returned to the kitchen to crack open two Coronas with a twist of lime.
After smoking, we retreated to my bedroom. We were already naked, leaving our clothes scattered across the couch and living room floor. He put his arms around my waist and laid me down. Passionately, we made out until we were both fully erect. I was there before he was. The condom covered his hard, pulsating penis. After several strokes and months of missing it's intrusions and it growing limp in my hand, I opted to rip the condom from the shaft.
In my most vulnerable state of naked, I surrendered to further exposing myself to his deadliness. I had been forewarned several times before. But as my mama used to say, "a hard head makes a soft behind."
Hmmm. All I can say is squeeze the Charmin.
Until next time...
Good Knight!
