By Phorozza Oct 24, 2012

Breaking Another Fast

The minute I invited her to the gala dinner, her lips got humid. I know this coz girls love these sorta things. They watch with envy as the stars walk up the red carpet in their evening gowns with a hunk in tow looking all fab. This is their ultimate dream. Some already have dresses lined up should the big occasion crop up on them. Oh and not to forget the shoes. Tons of shoes. All with an imaginary happening assigned. But these happenings don't occur too often, in fact they rarely do, to the regular Jills.

So it is no surprise that my invite was welcomed with suppressed ecstasy. I then proceeded to offer to cover any hair and makeup of costs should it be necessary, although the offer wasn't quite taken up, it certainly did keep the orchard humid. 'I know that you have no ulterior motives,' I was warned. Me? Never. I respect your decision girl. No funny business, just a night out with a dear friend. No strings attached. I promise. 'Good,' she smiles, 'coz I take my vow very seriously.' The lady doth protest too much methinks...but anyway,

The night in question I drop by her crib without the cab I told her I was waiting for minutes earlier, but in a black 1945 Jaguar ‘mochine wa maesemane’ Mark IV vintage. The look in her eyes confirmed that we had moved from humidity to moist now. As expected she looks just a notch up divine. I dare not mention the stirring in mine own loins. The car drives like a chariot. Moses is caressing the keys with marvelous precision. Not to be outdone Abdullah makes them whisper sweet nothings in our ears. Just before we arrive at our destination Jonas arrives with his horn to flower the nation.

I am almost certain that her flower is not without nectar as she steps onto the red velvety carpet that leads to throngs of couples all dressed to the nines. She outdoes herself with restraint as the first person to welcome us is none other than the richest person in town. 'I didn't know you meant that big when you said rubbing shoulders with the big guns,' she whispers to me with glee as we head to the champagne tower. That's one of our biggest clients, I explain, pays us next to nothing. But it’s a strategic client, refers a lotta business our way. I speak as if I'm not but a whore but one of the pimps at the brothel. This big talking helps elevate the moistness to a lil drizzle, I hope.

By the end of the night nothing can convince me that it’s not a full scale Amazon rain forest down there. With all the drinks and eats, the tons of compliments her way from almost everyone, the rubbing shoulder with the crème de la crème, and not to leave out my infectious charm, she is having a tough time keeping her juices from flowing all the way down to her ankles. Very discreetly I send the pre-agreed upon signal to the vintage to make a reappearance. It does so in a matter of minutes and though I'm aware of this fact, I play ignorant. 'Our ride is here,' that's code for ‘come ride me’ for the uninitiated. The party isn't quite over, yet she is already decided on having a lesser public one. With yours truly as the guest of honour. And the only guest mind you.

Floetry welcomes us back into the vintage. Nothing says fu...lay with me more than the schizophrenic (or is it multi-faceted) talent of this goddess. Given that on these auspicious occasions no one ever shares a ride, the lone route from this secluded spa resort is packed with cars. Which is good for everyone, for it gives all the chance to negotiate the venue of the private party, or for the unlucky ones; if there will be a private party.  As Tracy reminisces of the time she used to sing for 'you', I get closer to her and thank her for a great evening. The finality of my tone is carefully calculated to put the ball at her court. I intend to respect her vow, that is what I try to portray. 'No,' I get excited, 'thank YOU for the great evening'. Argh! I thought I'd have it at the first serve, but she knocked it right back in my court and caught me unawares. One-love. She snuggles in just under my shoulder and lays her head by my neck. Her breathing is laboured. It possibly couldn't get better than this, I mumble as I hold her closer. 'You'd be surprised,' she manages to mumble over Lenny's wailing. Deuce. I don't remember putting this song so early in the playlist...I look outside to realise that we're almost in the city. The heretofore unnoticed silence seems to have covered most of the thirty or so minute slow journey. The traffic is still heavy and will be for the next two robots before everyone disperses to their little corners of the city and the pimps will be separated from the whores. The structural positions will sure reel their ugly heads once more. No more acting big; play your position player.

The violence her hot breathing inflicts on my neck reverberates on my upper right buttock. I'm yet to acquaint myself with the mechanisms that make this possible. But there’s always a terribly agonising pleasure I experience on either side of my upper rear-end whenever my neck is confronted with an oral attack. I manage to keep my composure as I answer the premeditated question 'where to?' from my driver/wingman. Directions fail me at night, I plead. She raises her head and gives my neck (and concomitantly my buttock) the much needed respite. But it’s short-lived as she returns to her position after instructing the driver in laboured speech to 'just take the N1'. Advantage in. At this point in time my urbanised San genes kick in as my natural GPS starts working: the N1 one does not even remotely lead to her abode, but straight into mine. The battle is won. Game. Set. Match. Huha! The driver can't help but smile. Our eyes meet via the rear view mirror. It’s a congratulatory smile. He no hater. Respect.

As we race down the oddly free freeway, I use my index finger and thumb to gently part the slit of her...(relax, we not there yet)...the slit of her dress to expose her thigh just above her knee. Almost as if I'm a teenager tryna cop a feel, I move discreetly up her thigh. Her hand stops mine just as it got close enough to feel the all too familiar heat escaping her like Kunta from the plantation. I think I hear Elton moaning the fact that Nikita will never see his home, I have no time to sympathise as my Nikita is taking me to my home. She kisses, or rather hungrily suckles on my neck making my buttock twitch like a junkie on the first day of rehab to compensate for her denial of my forays towards her home.

Ellie, with borrowed words from Elton, welcomes her to my home: 'oh how wonderful life is, now that you're in the world'. There couldn't have been a better welcome. She grabs my neck and sucks the life out of my mouth whilst pumping in gallons of sexually energy. We are complete sex animals. Amidst protest she lets me go, steps back and reaches behind her back with both her hands. As her zip slowly moves southwards, Hugh let's go of his horn to tell us of the beaut that walks lazily through the market like a butterfly. Her dress drops without much ado. The talking drums and the xylophones can only be heard by those who bought VIP tickets to the concert my heart puts on without so much as a memo to me. The blood it pumps seems hell bent to move at breakneck speed to but one destination. My candle drops a tear. As I had suspected throughout the night, nothing drives a wedge between her glorious skin and the silk dress. Utterly nude she stands there daring me to escape my fixation with her ample bosom, the twin mountains with pointy peaks surrounded by a small dark circle. The circle is definitely where mortals come to worship, to wail around the holy peaks. This is my Mecca. This is where I will carry out my Hajj. These peaks are my Kaaba. Overcome by my state of Ihram, I find myself wishing to weep.

She moves closer and tugs at my shirt. She seems unwilling to forgive Kurt for not designing easily discardable costumes for his male characters. One button gives in to the pressure. I implore her to go for it with my eyes. With one overtly violent tug we listen as the buttons dance on the floor to Billy's gospely erotic, 'you can drink or you can nurse it, it don't matter how you worship, as long as you're down on your knees'. I let go of the darned shirt. With as much vigour but fortunately less violence, she tugs on my nipple with her teeth. At the same time she battles with the buckle of my belt. Louis really went overboard with the complexity on this one. It’s easy but not very heat of the moment friendly. She somehow manages to unbuckle as she switches the left nipple for the right and continues her ravishing. She breezes past the three lock and a zip obstacle Dolce and his pal put on the pants. I guess somehow some obstacle had to be engineered so that getting into a man's pants is not too easy. I let them drop and rid of my shoes as well. Now she only has Calvin to contend with. She doesn't seem to mind him much; her hand goes straight inside the strained underwear and squeezes the crown jewels to add to the assault on the nipples. I am in heaven. The combined effect of pain and pleasure does me in. I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom and gently put her down on the bed.

Far in the background James swears it’s true that she's beautiful, I agree fully and descend on her rain forest. Starting at the back of the knees. The scent emanating from her flower makes me forego the pleasantries and I go straight to the centre of her world. With my tongue I play Moses and part the seas. Her nectar feeds my soul; I brush my teeth against her knob for added effect. She cries out to the heavens between biting her tongue. She grabs my locks and pulls me up as I hear her beauty being praised once more this time by Damian with Bobby's welcomed assistance. She licks her own lips from mine. I am still none committal to the dance she invited me to when she not so gently pulled me up by the hair. Not being one to beg, she uses her feet to push me by my buttocks towards her centre. 'Vroom vroom,' I hear Senganga say as my jagged edge edges ever so closely to her heaven, 'this chick's off the planet. Zoom zoom,' my spear is now at the mouth of her cave. She pushes again with her feet. My crying head touches the pearl at her gates; again she bites her tongue to keep from losing control. I’m sliding down and up and down the slit when the most evil of ideas enter my head from underneath the depths of hell - I remember a claim I made some time back, one that she refuted as impossible. I position myself right at her entrance, the lone eye of the snake and a bit having already sunk into her shallow waters. Sensing what is about to transpire she relaxes her feet flat on the bed with her knees up in the air. She is confident that I need not be encouraged no more. I look her straight in the eyes and they are watery and dreamy. I doubt that she even sees me. I close mine as I kiss her on the forehead. I respect your vow, I say as I move off her. Some sound between a pussy's mew and a lion's roar escapes her clenched teeth. She stops short of begging as I walk away. Bob bemoans my leaving with the pieces of her heart.  

Having confirmed that it was Eid ul-Fitr on her side, I consider my claim that I would break her fast without disrespecting her vow validated. I lock myself naked in the study, my candle dripping wax and my mouth and nose filled with her sweet nectar, and direct all that sexual energy the best way I know how: in putting to words this little episode.

This Blog makes me