Peeling Back the Top Layer 🇯🇲

23| Twelve days

Twelve days. That's how long our little arrangement lasted. Less than two weeks.

All because Chaunard lied. He's a man after all and that's what men do — They lie.

We had sex one final time before he went to the airport last night and then he called it quits. Now I'm standing in my home gym looking at the punching bag and all I can picture is his face. The first few blows I deliver are just a warm-up. The plan is to pummel the sack to threads if that's what it takes for the anger to subside and my muddled thoughts to become lucid.

Things were going well. We visited the doctor as planned and had the samples taken for our tests. The only drawback was that the full results would take two weeks to be ready. That didn't stop us though.

We fucked that same night and then the following night. If my period hadn't started a day later I'm sure we would have fucked every night after that too. Mother nature's interruption lasted five days and we were at it again like dogs in heat the second my discharge was clear.

And it only got better every time we did it. His dick game is on point. He knows my body better than even I do, making me feel things I only dreamed of. He even knows when to give me more. The man reads my thoughts like the pages of an open book and works my body like a well-oiled machine.

It was going perfectly... until two nights ago. We had just completed a round of breathtaking sex and were curled up in bed, casually talking and playing around. We were watching a video on my phone when an incoming message popped up on the screen and I made the mistake of opening it.

There, in my messages, stood an unsolicited dick pic from my ex whom I had reconnected with on social media a few weeks prior. The caption, "It misses you". I quickly closed the chat but Chaunard had already seen it.

"I thought we wouldn't fuck other people," he said as calm as ever.

"Yeah, that's the agreement."

"Den a wah dat?"

"A dick pic from an ex who mi nuh see in over 10 years. Mi nuh know why him a send mi dat out a di blue."

"Alright boss. Do yuh ting," is all he said.

I didn't see the need to explain further and he didn't appear upset by it. In fact, we fucked again that very night and he must have tapped into some reserve energy he had stored up because he pounded me even harder and longer than the first round.

Everything was quickly smoothed over, or so I thought. Last night after sex he told me that he was done. I still remember his parting words before he walked out the door.

"Kelsie, dis naw go work fi me. I am not okay wid a next man a text yuh. Mi cyaa do dis wid you nuh more."

His statement left me stunned, to say the least. I just stood there as he kissed my forehead and left. I couldn't say a word. He had all the characteristics of a fuck buddy yet there he was telling me it was not enough.

All because my crosses ex Ryan thought I'd be interested in a pic of his dick. It's not even worth the trouble! My advice to every female is to experience another dick or two before you decide to settle down with one. After Chaunard left, I took a good look at the offending photo and all I could think was, "a suh it did likkle?"

I laughed hard remembering how I used to run from that small one. He was my first and we weren't even in a proper relationship. I made it to age 19 still a virgin and decided to get it over and done with. He came around at the time expressing an interest and I liked him so I gave it up to him. But things between us never warmed up.

He didn't know anything about foreplay so I never relaxed and intercourse with him always resulted in me trying to escape the pain he caused. Jus a whole heap a ramming and stabbing. I was also shy so I never gave him a handjob or even a kiss. I couldn't even look him in the eyes.

Now he's back telling me how his dick remembers me and reminding me that he never experienced a blowjob from me. He went as far as telling me that he likes deep throat, making me laugh even harder.

Deep throat?! Ha! His little shrimp wouldn't even fill my mouth so how would it hit the back of my throat? It appears that puberty abandoned him halfway, leaving him with a skinny, five-inch dick. And that's when it's fully erected.

Then he had the audacity to send me that pic which ruined my no-strings-attached fling with Chaunard — the man with a pipe that exhibits God's greatness and the wonderous blessings he bestowed on black men.

Upsetting.

Its because of that one pic that Chaunard told me, "Mi cyaa continue lie to you and lie to miself. Mi like yuh too much fi hide and fuck. That's not enough for me. Yuh nuh think we can be more than that?"

I shook my head telling him no and he asked "What's holding you back?" To anyone else, it would seem like a straightforward decision but for me, Kelsie Annesha Taylor, it's more difficult than climbing a mountain. I'm certain a dentist would have an easier time pulling a wisdom tooth. My main point of contention, my only point of contention actually, is that it's too soon.

Too soon to have healed from the trainwreck that was Steven.

Too soon to enter into another relationship.

Too soon to choose Chaunard.

That's what I texted to him when I figured he had reached the airport. "I can't give you more right now. It's too soon."

His simple reply, "Too soon to be happy?"

The question tormented my mind throughout the endless night and it gave rise to anger. It makes me angry knowing that he lied to me about his feelings, knowing damn well it wasn't just sex for him.

He said he wasn't pushing for a relationship and I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Had I known, I would have never allowed things to get this far.

Now, at 5:00 am, I'm frustrated and trying to unleash all the negative emotions on this tattered punching bag, which swings back and forth before me.

Beads of sweat roll off my skin as I stand back and look at it, trying to catch my breath. My knuckles feel sore under the boxing glove but I still have some fight in me left. For every round of punches, I examine all the reasons I'm fighting.

For starters, I really don't need a man but unfortunately, I still want one. And if I'm gonna choose one then he must be loyal and willing and able to take care of me. Not because I need him to, but because that's how a King treats his Queen.

Then, I think about all the women I know, of how the hurt they've each experienced leads back to a single source. Their stories, as well as mine, are tethered to the lies, the deception, the neglect, and the abuse meted out by men.

So when he asks what's holding me back, he really should be trying to find out what's pushing me forward. His mind should be busy trying to figure out how and why I am even still attracted to men. With so many reasons to hate men, it baffles even me that I'm still attracted to them. Sometimes I wonder if I'm suffering from a mental disorder.

And let's be honest, what do I really know about Chaunard? For all I know, he could be a serial killer with a rap sheet that dates back to 15 years. Maybe there's a string of baby mothers lined up waiting to claim. There's no telling what I might be getting into with this man. He has the profile of a manwhore — the good looks, the swagger, and a mouth so sweet it could convince a woman to strip out of her skin if he wanted her to.

Bottom line is that I'm not sure I can trust him and I'm terrified of getting heartbroken. With him, I don't feel like I can control my feelings and that's what scares me the most. I'm fighting with all I have to stop myself from falling.

As I slump to the floor, tired and again out of breath, my focus is set on one thing... it's too soon to have such strong feelings for him. Feelings I've never harbored for any other man.

I want him... baaad!