Want You

Is She Losing Interest?: Part 1

I couldn't believe it. The morning after, where every woman describes a feeling of morning glow was finally here. I felt seen, heard and most of all . . . complete in some way that I hadn't before. That wasn't entirely it though. My first wasn't just with anyone. It wasn't average, mediocre, okay or great. It was with a woman, who knew how to please another woman. Zendaya Coleman, the girl from Disney that I once thought was an enemy, was that woman. I turned and looked at her sleeping figure beside me. I ran my fingers through her brown, curly buns. She shifted her positioned and I felt her long bare legs intertwine with mine. Her groin barely brushed against my thigh.

"Good morning," she said.

"Hey."

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine," I said. I pulled the cover up over me.

Zendaya arched an eyebrow and sat up on her elbows. "You're not sore?"

I shifted a little to get up from the bed but felt a slight pain between my thighs. I blushed. This was so embarrassing. "Not at all." I left for the bathroom down the hall, trying my hardest not to limp.

I turned on the shower head, disrobed myself and got inside the tub. The warm water refreshed my skin and body from the night before, full of hot and sticky sex. I never knew a woman could cum so many times. Not to mention how much one could swallow. Zendaya ate me out like we were at all you can buffet. Her long, nailed fingers worked and stretched me out to points where I never thought possible. The hot water coming between her legs felt therapeutic and soothing, even though, I still missed the pain. It was pleasurable at one point, when my body became use to it. That I missed. Her fingers digging, seeking and working me like I've never known. I never knew someone could love me like that.

And for the next few days, I couldn't get that night out of my mind. It was stuck in some part of my brain; imprinted in my memories. I had to admit, she had branded me with her love making. Every waking minute I saw her, I wanted her take me again. My desire for her body and core grew stronger with each passing day we didn't have sex. Now a days, it was becoming often and I was starting to wonder. At times, I became self-conscious. I was too afraid to initiate anything sexual. I kept thinking she would laugh at me or shoot me a disgusted look. I wondered often if she was loosing interest in me. Her outfits were getting more and more dark, longer and bulkier. It was like she was she was trying to disappear. I couldn't sneak a peek at her breast, ass or legs. Nothing. Eventually, I came home everyday, confused, frustrated and then just plain pissed. I wanted to shout at her. To scream that it was my first time. I thought she didn't have the balls to tell me that I was lousy in bed. Who could blame a newbie for being nervous, though. It was only natural.

Then one day after work, I decided to confront her about it.

"I'm not going to walk egg shells around you, you know," I told her at dinner. I hadn't even touched the plate of spaghetti she cooked for me. It was stale and cold by now.

Zendaya sat across the table from me, eating calmly at her food. She was dressed particularly different today. Instead of her usual cover-ups, she wore a skin tight black skirt and stelto's. Her dark blouse had a plunging v-neck that exposed a fine layer of her French vanilla skin. It was distracting and all so heart-breaking. Who the hell was she all dressed-up for? Had she planned on breaking up with me? I grimaced. Not if I broke-up with her first.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She looked up at me behind a sharp pair of nerd glasses. Her smokey eyes were smoldering.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about," I barked. "Look, I wasn't that good in bed and you're trying to let me down easy. But I'm big girl, I can handle it. So just say it."