Shrivelled Roses 1 (Intro)

Chapter 12

-𝑳𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝑺𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒐-

They went to pick up their sister at her workplace and went out for drinks. Yes, drinks. She was of age now to have drinks with her siblings without being cautious of what they thought of her. The drinks were just for catching up, without the folks probing in their conversations.

Ncesh: Hewethu, unomntu wena kula Pretoria, kutheni umhle u glowa!?

Liya: Andingo Thixo mna sisi andinamntu.

Ncesh: uThixo ungenaphi?

Liya: NguYe osidalileyo asisithi... singabantu bakhe nezimvu ezaluswa nguYe.

Sakhi: Psalm 100.

Ncesh: Bitch!!!

They burst into a frenzy of laughter, tears and "clinks" of glasses.

Sakhi: But on the serious note, who's got you glowing like this?

Liya: Eish bhuti, I'm not even sure if I should talk about him yet.

Sakhi: Why not? Is he in the picture or not?

Sakhi: Uthi he is.

Ncesh: Wena uthini?

Liyanda sighed, thinking about what transpired when she got to his work place. She couldn't risk them knowing about Mzuvukile kanti akekho serious... serious at that very point was to be measured by his level of discrepancy. He may have forgotten to mention that Candy was the mother of his child, or he jus chose to not mention it.

Ncesh: Liyanda?

Liya: Ey sisi, I recently found out that he has a child. He didn't think that mentioning it would be important.

Sakhi: Is he still with his baby mamma?

Liya: Good question, and I don't have an answer to it. Unfortunately.

Ncesh: But do you like him? How old is he?

Sakhi: What does age have to do with liking a person?

Ncesh: Liyanda is too old for her age Sakhiwo, if the guy yintanga yakhe then she might as well drop the whole thing.

Liya: He's older.

Sakhi: Then why are you surprised that he has a child?

Liya: Andikho surprised, he should have told me ndingade ndive ngomama womntwanakhe.

The silence from the siblings lingered a moment longer than intended.

Liya: Besides that ke, there are a couple of loose ends that I feel would be a great if he were to tie up. Otherwise yeah, there is someone but I won't say much until I am confident that we are both on the same page.

Sakhi: If the baby mamma gives you problems, you know my number off heart!

Ncesh: Ndakum'bhaka kemnake, xa efuna iindawo zophambanela akhangele i St Marks. Please.

After catching up on each other, laughing and teasing one another... they headed home.

The folks were excited to have their youngest daughter back, as expected, but they were more happy to see that the distance didn't crack the bond.

****

Two weeks later...

She stood nude in the lamplight except for her black stockings which were held up by elastic bands around her thick thighs. Nairota rolled the stockings down extending his hand to support her balance as she stepped out of them. A step further away from him she held her arms across her bare breasts with a tad of shyness crawling into the almost darkened room. Her worst fear came alive as Nairota stood up, slowly walking towards her. He held one of her hands and turned her around slowly for inspection. She feared that... being inspected... as though she was held hostage in a police cell. A part of that fear came from childhood memories. Being "inspected" to check if you qualified for whatever you wanted. Being "inspected" to check if you were worthy of whatever reward that was actually due to you. The inspection alone arose memories that she had tried to forget over the years, memories of feeling inadequate...

He whistled, gaining a frown on her face.

"Lie down," he instructed in a not-so-demanding yet very audible tone. Liyanda lay down on the bed, on her back looking at the ceiling wondering why in the third heavens did she agree to this? Why did she agree to meet him at his brother's place? Surely they could have gone out just for lunch or dinner... no sex. The loose ends were still that... loose.

He stood above her head, kissing her all over the face before saying "relax, you're home in my presence" with such smoothness that she believed him. Immediately. Liyanda put her own hands on her breasts and her palms rotated the nipples. Her hands swam down along her flanks. She rubbed her hips. Her feet pointed like a dancer's and her toes curled. Her pelvis rose from the bed as if seeking something in the air. Nairota traced two fingers down his thighs and found comfort in the mound between her legs. Dancing to a drum only audible to his brain the fingers rammed deeper, the younger woman began to ripple on the bed like a wave on the sea. At that very moment a hoarse unearthly cry echoed from the bedroom walls and Nairota smiled in satisfaction. He hadn't even done much, but she was patty in his hands.

Basking in his pride and ego he missed an opportunity to pin her down, and missed how she turned both of them around and straddled him... he gasped. Her hair was loose. It was cut straight across at the level of her shoulders. It was hanging forward, hiding her face, except for her eyes, which she was holding shut tight. He had to push his anxiety away. It would be easier for him to get up and take care of an emergency if she weren't on top of him. He had to forget about that. One thing he loved that moment was her aligning their nipples and rubbing against each other... their bodies smooth and heated felt like melted chocolate. Her nipples would be hard and his would be too.

She dragged her hair across his face and lightly bit his shoulder. She was lowering herself more. She was brushing her breasts across his face. He wanted to take one of her breasts into his mouth, either one. He was frantic. He wanted to get as much of one of her breasts into his mouth as he could. Her breasts were killing him, she was indeed too voluptuous for her age. He drove himself harder into her. She was whining with pleasure and that was good. She would climax again right away... he thought to himself and then he would flip them back so he would be on top and lead. Take control. Be in charge.

He kept on, slowing himself. He pushed her knees up higher. He was almost there and so was she, again. The knot at the root of his prick dissolved in fire, melting. He shouted when he came. Then she was snorting, trying to say something. She was telling him to stop. She had come a second time and she wanted him to stop. They disengaged, shaking.