Page 8 of The Best is Yet to Cum

His face and beard glistened with my juices when he came up for air. After the powerful climaxes I’d just experienced, I should’ve been ready to tap out. However, I was anxious to find out if he knew how to work his magic stick.

“Move up. I want you to look into my eyes while I fuck you like I’m the last nigga who’ll ever do it.”

I scooted to the center of the bed, and Clinton followed me, leaving kisses on my legs, inner thighs, stomach, breasts, neck, and finally, my lips. I opened my legs wider as he adjusted himself on top of me.

Slowly, his lips connected with mine, and I inhaled my scent as I tasted my nectar on his tongue. Something about us swapping the juices of my honeypot turned me on, and I began to grind against his erection that was pressing against my bud.

Our tongues continued to wrestle, becoming more aggressive as he slid his hand between us and positioned the head of his dick at my entrance. Aside from my dildo and vibrators, nothinghad been inside my walls, so I tensed as he pressed his way inside.

He removed his mouth from mine and looked into my eyes. “Relax, baby. I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s been a while, so I’m a little—oh, shit!”

My walls stretched wide to fit his girth, momentarily taking my breath away.

“Damn, Mona. This pussy feels better than I imagined, baby.”

“Mmm.”

“Look at me.” I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until he said something. “You’re beautiful, inside and out, baby. Don’t ever let another soul determine your worth. You deserve to be loved, honored, and cherished.”

As he spoke, he applied slow, deep strokes. It felt amazing, but coupled with his words and the way he looked into my eyes, it was out of this world. Suddenly, the sides of my face felt wet.

“Mona, baby, why are you crying?”

“I, umm, I don’t know. It just… feels so good, and what you said was so sweet.”

“As long as they’re tears of joy, you can cry me a river. I’m gon’ make this pussy cry, too.”

Clinton told not one lie. Me and my pussy cried all night long. I’d never wanted time to stand still like I did that night. We didn’t doze off until light began to peek through the blinds. When I woke up, I was disappointed to find the other side of the bed empty.

“Well, it was good while it lasted.”

When I moved to get out of bed, the soreness between my thighs reminded me that last night… and this morning wasn’t a dream. As beautiful as the last ten hours had been, it was time for me to do what I’d come to New Orleans to do.

My life was nothing like I imagined it would be at this age. I was supposed to be a happily married, stay-at-home mother with at least three children. Instead, I’d failed at being a wife, and my body failed at allowing me to be a mother. Even if I wanted to stick around, no man wanted a woman who was almost forty and couldn’t have kids.

I almost felt hopeful after spending the last several hours with Clinton. The sex was everything, and the idea of a future with him zipped across my mind once or twice. Then reality struck, and I realized my time with him was temporary and would soon come to an end.

After cleaning the tub with the cleaning products I’d picked up when I arrived, I filled it with hot water and some bath salts. I then retrieved the pills I planned to take to make my transition peaceful and painless, lined them up along the edge of the tub, and poured myself a glass of wine.

I turned on the TV, chose a random channel, and returned to the bathroom. Before getting into the tub, I turned off my phone, placed it on the counter, and looked in the mirror. The first thing I saw was the passion marks Clinton had left all over my neck and breasts, which made me smile.

“Maybe in another life, things could be different.”

As I let my robe fall from my shoulders, I heard a knock on the door, causing me to freeze. I’d specifically told the people at the front desk to tell the cleaning people not to come to my room, and I had the sign on the door handle. They’d honored my wishes the past few days, but maybe this crew hadn’t gotten the message. I would have ignored them, but the knocking continued.

“Shit!”

I put my robe back on, tying it around my waist before leaving the bathroom and going to the door. I looked through the peephole and gasped when I saw Clinton.

I rushed back into the bathroom, poured my wine into the sink, gathered my pills, and swiped them into the wastebasket. When I finally opened the door, I was breathing like I’d just run a mile.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t see my note?”

He entered my room with his luggage, letting the door close behind him.

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