Phase five was a callback to phase three, only this time I learned how to be comfortable with nudity in front of Elijah. We undressed standing across from each other, with no fanfare and no words. A candle glowed between us. First, I looked at Elijah. Naked, leaning back on his elbows, legs spread apart. My eyes raked across his body. His chest, nipples, stomach, cock, balls, ass. Then, I assumed the same position and I let him gaze at me. In these sessions, what I used to think of as sin seemed sacred. I cherished the connection.
Phase six was, I suppose, my graduation. It happened over the course of many weekends. I was ready for Elijah to touch me. Steady, unhurried, he glided his hands down my back,tracing muscle, spine, the small dip at my waist. When I rolled over, I covered my chest at first, then let the my hands fall away. His palm rested over my sternum, drifted across my breasts, then lower, to my belly, my thigh, my foot.
The next week, Elijah kissed me. My mouth, the slope of my neck. His lips grazing my earlobe until I shivered. His tongue traced down, unhurried, until he found my nipples, sucking them both until they peaked. I arched toward him without meaning to. His fingers slipped lower, finding me wet, open, ready. He circled my clit with aching patience, until my body shuddered with release. I didn’t know it would feel like heaven.
By week three, I couldn’t wait to see him again. This time, Elijah’s fingers slid through my wetness then pressed inward, curling and stroking upward until a sudden force bloomed behind my pubic bone. Pressure spread like heat through my belly. I didn’t recognize the sounds coming out of my mouth when my orgasm built, cresting from my center until I fell apart. My body whispered, “yes, this is what you were made for.”
Week four was my turn to learn how to give Elijah an orgasm. He grasped his thick cock in his hand and told me to, “Watch everything.” I did. Every flex of muscle, the way his hips rose to meet his grip. When he came, it was sudden and hot, spilling across his stomach
I dragged my fingers through his thick cream. Curious, I tasted him. Salty. Primal. He smiled like I’d passed some sacred threshold. Then, he showed me how to stroke him and I discovered exactly how to make his hips buck. When he came again, I realized giving was as pleasurable as receiving.
Week five, we moved into oral. Elijah’s mouth hovered over my pussy as his hands parted me gently, then he kissed and licked every inch of my pussy, from my folds to my clit. Nothing compared to the orgasms he gave me by suckingand nibbling on my little nub while his fingers worked the magic spot inside.
When I was able to breathe again, I reached for him. He was hard as steel, watching me with quiet need. I stroked him first, then tentatively took him into my mouth. Patiently, he taught me what he liked with breath and sound, until I found a perfect rhythm. With my permission, he released with a shudder down my throat. I swallowed, stunned. Changed.
Week six is when it all came together, literally and figuratively. With so much preparation under such care and guidance, I was grateful choosing my first time to happen in this setting. I no longer feared sex or felt shameful for wanting it.
Elijah knelt between my thighs, cock smothered in lube, waiting. He pushed the tip in and, once I relaxed, he entered inch by inch. My body welcomed him and he moved. Rhythmic. Precise. The pressure built fast. His cock rubbed my G-spot perfectly while his fingers stroked my clit exactly how I liked. My body convulsed, his name caught in my throat. He followed, coming with a shudder.
The last two weeks with Elijah have been my exquisite undoing. We’ve spent our weekends in motion, fucking with abandon. He bent me over cushions, took me standing up. I rode his cock. Sideways. Backward. Upside-down. Every which way imaginable.
We fucked in silence, in laughter, in breathless urgency.
Every position is a new prayer. Every orgasm, a revelation.
I’ve never been this alive.
There are mirrors on every side of the room now. I watch myself suck him, my body arch as he enters me, the way my skin blushes from arousal. How I look when I come.
Zero shame. No filter. Only the raw truth of embracing my sexuality.
Today, on our last day, he didn’t say goodbye like a lover.
He said it like a witness. “You’ve done it. You know yourself now. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your journey.”
Now, as I sit across from Camille to close out my program, I don’t hesitate.
“I’m not finished,” I tell her. “I can’t stop here.”
I’m finally courageous enough to tell her about the boys, who have permeated my thoughts for months.
“When I first escaped, there were two men,” I recall. “I was hired to play music at a college party and I felt completely out of place. Everyone around me seemed like aliens. Then I saw them. I can’t remember much about how they looked, only how it felt to see pure adoration. Love. One had his arm around the other. They moved in sync. Then kissed. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. Imagining myself between them. Their hands on me.”
Camille leans forward. “Congratulations, Avonna. You’ve come full circle. tapping into your inner desires means you’re no longer a victim of your past.”
She’s right. Owning my truth hasn’t marked me for punishment. It makes me feel strong. Certain.
My body belongs to me, I’m not a sinner waiting for judgment. No one will ever convince me otherwise ever again.
Everything cracks open. “Camille, before I go out into the real world, I want to experience two men. At once. I want their hands on every inch of me. Mouths. Eyes. I want to feel filled, stretched, overwhelmed, and still safe. I want to see them touch each other too, and be part of it. I am not ashamed of wanting more. I’m ready to explore it on my terms.”
I nearly laugh out loud when I hear myself ask for my deepest desire.
I want to hug myself for the progress I’ve made. To think, when I started this journey, I couldn’t even touch myself let alone ask to be fuckedby two men at once.
Desire used to feel like danger.
Now, I’m fully awake to the woman I’m becoming.
