Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 12

There’s shouting going on, why is there such a noise? I open my eyes. He’s not in bed, its only 10am. Why didn’t he wake me? I sit up, I look on the floor, and my suitcase is already packed, shit. I forgot, I agreed to go to Gauteng with them. Did he pack my suitcase, oh Jehovah? I get out of bed, I put the suitcase on the bed, and he did pack mostly everything, even my underwear. Why am I so self-conscious about my underwear all of a sudden? Oh I remember he sometimes uses his teeth to remove them, then throws them across the room. hehe. I don’t think since he’s returned there has been at least 2 days we didn’t have sex in a week. Like I said, he’s a FREAK. There’s shouting outside, what the hell is going on, Great now my headache is back. I open the door, I walk to the mezzanine and stand by the rail.
“Can yall please keep it down” I say.
They don’t hear me, they are all here, all of them from last night.
“Guys” I say softly, I don’t wanna shout, my mother always said, ‘You can shout at your man, but his family don’t even think about it’. I wave my hands saying, “Guys” trying to get their attention.
Max starts Barking at Qhawe’s father who looks around, his father catches a glimpse, then looks at me, “AYYY!” he booms, they all keep quiet, even I’m taken aback.
Qhawe is in the kitchen looks like he’s cooking, “I know this your home, but do you mind keeping it down for a bit” I say softly like a pin falling to the ground.
“Sorry” they all reply at once and now the house is quiet, but there’s murmurs. I walk back into the room and close the door to take a shower. The door opens and he walks in, he walks into the shower.

I think he might be a Sex addict, but then again he turned me into one as well. We are on the floor, of the shower, he’s shifting slowly, I’m guessing he’s trying not to add onto any pain. “Harder” I say wrapping my arms around his neck, he looks at me, my eyes are closed but I can feel them; his eyes.
His eyes are so piercing; they could probably cut diamonds. He flips me over and lays on top of me thrusting, deep. He finishes, and rolls me over, he’s done, but I’m not.
“I’m not done” I say whispering, the headache is gone now, then again, having sex does help eliminate headaches. He smiles at me, and lays me back down, he lifts my legs and presses his head in between my legs. I press his head deeper, I’m almost there. I don’t know how but he always knows when I’m close. He comes up to me and rolls me over and starts again. As he moves, I arch my back, feeling every inch of him deep inside me. It’s a dance we know all too well, a rhythm we've mastered. My breath hitches, and he picks up the pace, his grip tightening on my hips as he drives deeper. My mind spins, but all I can focus on is the pleasure building up, the way he knows exactly how to push me over the edge. I gasp as the wave hits me, shuddering beneath him, and he growls low in his throat, feeling my body convulse around him. He doesn’t stop, not until I’m completely spent, melting into the floor of the shower. He slows down, his movements becoming tender, as if he’s savoring the last few moments of our connection.
Finally, he pulls away, kissing my forehead before helping me up. We stand there for a moment, catching our breath, the water cascading over us, washing away the sweat and the lingering remnants of our passion. He looks at me, his eyes still burning with that intense, piercing gaze, and I can’t help but smile.
“Better?” he asks, his voice rough but soft.
I nod, feeling a little weak-kneed but satisfied, “Much better.”
He smirks, turning off the shower and grabbing a towel. He wraps it around me, then another around himself. We step out, and I can hear the low hum of conversation coming from downstairs, but it’s distant, like a background noise that doesn’t quite reach us here in our bubble.
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him as he dries off, “What was all the shouting about?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity is clear in my voice.
He glances at me, then looks away as if considering how much to tell me, “Family stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”
I raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but I don’t push it. Instead, I stand up, grabbing some clothes from the suitcase he packed for me.
“You did a good job packing,” I tease, pulling out a skirt.