Chapter 12
Alijah
“It was just a kiss, nigga. Shake that shit off. You’ve kissed and been kissed many times. Being kissed by Deshona shouldn’t have you staring at ceilings and stroking your dick. Snap out of it.” My words are low, so I’m not overheard by my roommate, but no less demanding as I grip my dick.
After Deshona left the living room, I waited for twenty minutes to see if she would come back. I wanted her to come back and was silently praying that she would just do so to put me out of my misery. Now I’m in my bed with my eyes on the ceiling as I try to ignore every image of Deshona that I’ve memorized up to now. The shit isn’t working, and my dick is harder than Chinese arithmetic and painful. I need to nut and right now. I release the grip on my dick and switch to slow strokes up and down my shaft. I close my eyes and succumb to the visuals of the woman I shouldn’t want.
My strokes increase, and I tighten the hold on my dick as I fist it and increase my effort to bring myself to a release. Slow groans fall from my mouth as I visualize Deshona’s hand wrapped around my dick. My hips move on their own as thefantasy takes shape, and within five minutes, my nut shoots out of my tip like a glacier.
“Ughhh,” I groan as my body heats.
My dick doesn’t go down, and the need to have Deshona doesn’t dissipate, which pisses me off. I slowly get out of bed with my dick in my hand as cum slides between my belly button and my hand.
“Fuck! Looks like I’m taking another cold shower. This shit is ridiculous. I didn’t masturbate this much when I was a gotdamn teenager.” My eyes shift to the clock on the nightstand to see that it’s close to midnight.
Hopefully Deshona is asleep because I ain’t about to give her the courtesy of putting on clothes. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll see this monster again and throw caution to the wind. I turn the knob on my door and step out, but clearly, the odds are ever in my favor.
“Oh, God!” Deshona squeals when I collide with her.
I momentarily forget about my current state and grab her with my cum covered hands to keep her from hitting the ground. Clearly, God and His angels are asleep because Deshona is wearing a thin slip that does nothing to conceal what’s underneath. Her titties look like Hershey kisses, and my mouth waters instantly. She has worn little shorts and tank tops since we’ve been here together. But I’ll be damn if this little shit doesn’t feel intentional.
Our eyes are glued to each other, and Deshona’s breaths are labored as my heart beats erratically. Without thinking rationally, I pick her up and slam my lips into hers as she wraps her legs around my bare waist. I back us into the door jamb to keep from falling because my legs feel like noodles. My lips send a message as I kiss her hungrily. I communicate my intentions to destroy her will and shatter her resistance. I need her like I need air to breathe.
I break the kiss long enough to suck her bottom lip before I pull her tongue into my mouth. Our tongues dance, and we war for dominance as my hands grip her ass. My body is hot, and my blood rests in my dick as it pokes against Deshona’s center. It pleads for permission to make Deshona ours as we make out like horny teenagers. Puffs of air pass between us as we engage in this heated exchange of lips and passion. My head feels dizzy, and my adrenaline is elevated to epic proportions. Yet all I feel is desire, lust, and intense longing for this woman.
“Alijah.”
The moan causes my eyes to stretch because I have yet to release Deshona’s lips, so how is she still able to speak . . .
“Ooh, Alijah. Right there, handsome.”
My forehead wrinkles, and it’s like a current hits me like a tsunami as my eyes pop open and I look around my room.
“Damn. A dream? That shit was too real to be a fucking . . .” My words trail off when another whimper of my name pierces the quietness within the otherwise quiet room.
“Alijah.” The moan is low, sultry, and causes my dick to jerk as I process what’s happening in real time.
While I was about to fuck Deshona in my dream, she was in her room getting off to thoughts of me. I’m still as a church mouse as I war with going to Deshona’s room for a closer inspection or beating my dick to her sensual voice. When another seductive moan of my name sounds, I throw the blankets off my body and vacate my bed.
“This shit is ridiculous. All she had to do was stay earlier, and neither of us would be in this mess now,” I grumble.
I’m too turned on and out of sorts to put on my house shoes or a shirt as I turn the knob and exit my bedroom. The walk to Deshona’s room, despite its closeness, feels like the one Michael Clarke Duncan took inThe Green Mile. I’m out of breath, and my pulse races when I reach Deshona’s door. My hand hoversover the knob as I debate whether or not I should cross this line. Deshona hasn’t asked or welcomed me into her space, so I hesitate to enter her room without an invitation.
“Alijah, please.” Deshona’s voice penetrates my ears through the thin barrier, and my dick twitches as if to tell me to go for it.
I take a couple of breaths before I throw caution to the wind and turn the knob slowly. The door opens without announcing my presence, and the sight before me makes me swallow repeatedly. The blankets pool at her feet as the tank top I’ve grown accustomed to her sleeping in is crumpled above her stomach. Deshona’s bite size breasts push out the tank top like dollops of whipped cream on a sundae. Her lower half is completely bare, and her legs are spread, giving me a bird’s eye view of her pussy. For a second, I lick my lips as the thin landing strip of hair serves as a roadmap to what lies between her thighs.
But then my eyes zoom in on the motion that takes place before my eyes. Deshona’s fingers thrust in and out of her pussy as it glistens from her actions. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is slightly ajar, making it difficult for me to know if she’s asleep or simply in the throes of her self-pleasure. For countless seconds, I’m rooted in the spot I’m in, unable to think or breathe as Deshona continues sliding her fingers in and out of her wet canal. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and the blood rushes from my head to my dick as I fight for control.
“Dee-mm,” I clear the lump from my throat and try again. “Deshona.” My voice is husky and deeper than usual, thanks to the sex haze I’m fighting.
But the rational part of me pleads for me to wake this woman or bring her to the present because the real me can handle whatever fantasy she’s dreaming or thinking about.
“Deshona!” My tone is louder and more commanding as I stare at the bed in front of me.
My dick whines and jerks, ready to join the action, but permission must be obtained. I’m already violating Deshona’s peace by standing here watching her movements. I can’t get any closer or do what I want until she gives me clearance.
“Deshona, please.”
