Untapped Pleasures

Chapter 1- AVARI DUBOIS

    My hands rested on my second set of lips, drenched in my God given juices. I had just experienced the epitome of an orgasm which gave me the mental release I considered necessary to finish my work day. My column for tomorrow's paper was complete and the upcoming interview I had scheduled was forcing my nerves to the surface.

The clicking of my secretary's high heels against the tiled floor interrupted me from the euphoria my climax provided.

"Good morning Ms. DuBois. Your eleven o'clock is here. Should I send her in?"she inquired, peering from behind the glass door.

"Yes, just give me a moment please Beverly." I quickly answered while using my free hand to push my Versace frames further up the bridge of my nose. Beverly nodded briefly before pulling my door shut.

My hand was still in between my toned thighs, pressed against my pleasure button. I was too sensitive to climax again, but my virgin body was far from being satisfied.

I ignored my sexual urges and forced myself from the black desk chair. I walked inside of the adjoining bathroom and turned on the faucet, only to lick my glazed fingers before placing them under the warm stream.

I straightened my high-waist pencil skirt and blouse before applying a second layer of pink MAC. The reflection staring back at me was that of an attractive woman; however my insecurities stole from the natural beauty my African and French lineage gave me.

I can thank my parents, Radcliff and Leah, for my strong features and controlled upbringing. As a child, I was groomed to be meek and polite and refrain from engaging in any and all activities that could prevent me from being married off or dishonoring my family.

I was born into a family full of highly educated professionals. My great grandfather, Saul, was a full blooded Frenchman that fell for my chocolate brown grandmother and the rest is history. My family exemplified black excellence which was bittersweet. Sweet, because we were established and able to live a life of luxury and satisfaction. And bitter, because my childhood has become a blur of classism and facades.

Thus, I poured my energy into ballet and piano, and when my parents weren't looking, I immersed myself into my love for writing.

It began when I was eleven and my mother purchased my first diary. From that point on, I wrote about my deepest secrets and fantasies. It ranged from small crushes I had on male peers to the friends I wished I had. Eventually, I graduated to poetry and then I found a way to resourcefully articulate my ideas and subconsciousness onto paper.

I became so absorbed in the art of writing that being an only child to overbearing parents, no longer bothered me. I welcomed the quiet and I pushed myself to be completely transparent whenever my ink-filled tool danced on the paper of my journals.

As I grew older, the idea of impressing my parents and upholding the family's name became my sole purpose. My routine consisted of school, extracurricular obligations, and remaining invisible amongst my peers. I was the master of being ignored and because of this, yes, I was completely pure. Unscathed. Untouched. Virgin.

I had become comfortable with being alone and it was because of this I'd learned to explore and satisfy my natural urges. My sexual conquests have all been visual, mental, and independently physical.

I have seen almost any kind of flick you could imagine and I've finger fucked myself into oblivion countless times. I spend most of my free time with my hands in my laced panties because I'm sexually deprived and frustrated.