"I think. . ." My hands grew slick with sweat as she looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes. Her lips plump and juicy, ready for mine to greet them. In my chest, my heart beat rhythmically, worried about her reaction to these words. The first time I would ever utter these words in my life.
"What?" She asked me, her hand traveling to my face. She traced my jaw line with her finger. I grabbed it and kissed it. Jayda had the most beautiful coffee-colored skin I'd ever seen.
How in the world did my eighteen year old high school ass admit to a girl I'd been dating for just a month that I was falling for her? My friend Thadius would tell me I'm in over my head. But I, Adam Warren, from Ammington High in Illinois, was falling in love.
She was beautiful. Fierce, sexy, radiant. And beautiful. She's one of only a few black people at Ammington High, an import from a school on the South Side of Chicago. Her mom won the lottery and moved here so she could get a better education and so she could escape the barrage of kids who were jealous of her. They had every right to be. Jayda Jones had the most beautiful, curvaceous figure. Big tits, wide hips, thick thighs, everything. I'm a man of diverse tastes. I like all shapes, sizes, and colors. She definitely fell into my attraction.
When she came, she had an attitude problem because she was paranoid. Coming from the hood to a predominately white area? Not so easy, according to her. She actually thought I was only being nice to her to get into her pants, but that wasn't the case. I'm just generally like that. Most of my girlfriends at Ammington--6 to be exact--have only dated me because they wanted to hook up with the guy who looks like Adam Lazzara from Taking Back Sunday. They're bitches. Shallow, materialistc bitches. I actually swore off of them after one of them cheated on me at the Winter Wonderland dance. But when Jayda walked in, I saw someone different. I changed my mind.
We hung out all the time when we could. We'd crack jokes about each other all the time. Sometimes it got racial, but I never crossed the line or pissed her off. We saw movies, listened to music--my proudest accomplishment was getting her hooked on Maroon 5 and Daft Punk, because she only listens to hip-hop and R&B--and just chilled.
There was tons of sexual chemistry between us. I'd hug her from behind when I saw her at her locker and just love the way it felt. She'd push me against a locker and get up in my face like I did something to her. When I got really ballsy, I'd smack her ass and then run away. One time, we almost got hot and heavy. I'd attacked her and then tickled her mercilessly. My body was on top of hers, and it almost looked like we were having sex. That night, I had a dream about us making love. I woke up, and my pants were soaked. Of course, Thadius teased me forever when I told him. That guy can be pretty douche-baggy at times.
We were girlfriend and boyfriend for about a few weeks. People at Ammington were talking, thinking I was just in it to bang a black girl, or I was just so desperate for love that I'd take it when I got it. But I felt something for Jayda. She was amazing. Funny, sweet, smart, and sexy, she had the total package. Did I mention she was sexy? Sometimes it got hard to just be around her when she wore clothes that accentuated her figure. It wasn't slutty, but it was enough to turn me on.
I took her out on a date. This is where it all leads to. I thought it'd be real sexy if I took her to a spoken word club. One of those neo-soul joints that I'd seen in movies. We had fun. And it got hot and heavy again when this guy who looked like Usher read a poem about skin. I remember the lines that made me turn to Jayda.
"Skin. On your skin. My skin. Touching your skin. Our skin becomes one. We unify. We merge. Skin on top of skin. Me on top of you. . ."
It got to be too much. I pulled her to me and made out with her like she was about to die the next day. So then we ended up at my place because of this killer snowstorm. Too scared to drive her home and risk a car wreck, she phoned her mom and said she'd stay with me until the snow cleared. Her mom trusted her not to get into anything, but then again, she knew I was a nice guy.
While Jayda was downstairs playing the Wii, I went to my room and started screwing around on my Gibson guitar. I actually managed to play a nice little version of The White Stripes' "Blue Orchid." After that, I bounced around. I did Paramore, Fall Out Boy, and My Chemical Romance renditions. That's when she appeared before me. I was so deep in my guitar that I hadn't even noticed.
"Hey," She smiled and stroked my chin.
I smiled back and pushed some of my hair away from my face. "Hey, sexy." I grabbed her hips, pulled her toward me, and hugged her.
"Did I just hear you do "Misery Business?" She asked, breaking free of the hug and walking over to the window. I guess she wanted to see if it was still snowing.
I nodded. "Yeah. You like that?" I was a bit surprised, but happy to see her expanding her musical tastes.
"Yeah," Jayda said to the window. "I like that song." She turned around. "I actually bought they album. They pretty raw. The girl got a beastly voice."
I laughed. Black people slang.
Jayda was looking so unbelievably good. She wore a tight fitting slinky top and dark wash jeans.
"Come here," I commanded, patting the bed next to me. She brought herself down all slow, and I just wanted to bury my head in her ample cleavage.
"You're so damn hot." I stroked her face with my finger and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
She chuckled. "You're pretty cute. For a white guy." She joked, prompting me to push her playfully.
"Whatever."
"You look pretty nice, too."
I had on a black button-up and some jeans with Chucks. No biggie.
"Thanks."
"I had a good time, Adam."
"I did, too. I always have a good time with you."
"Me, too. I never thought I'd end up with someone like you."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
We looked at each other, and then I let me hand squeeze her thigh. She didn't stop me. I ran my hand from her knee all the way to her midthigh, wanting to slide it between her legs and make her come with just my hand.
Did I tell her? What if she rejected me. I didn't want her to. I loved her too much for that.
"You forever touchin' on me, boy." Jayda said, watching me massage her leg. I felt kind of bad, like I shouldn't have been doing it. No, I didn't. Because then, I would've stopped.
"Sorry," I apologized, looking deep into her eyes. "Stop being so sexy, and I won't have to touch you."
My heart was pounding again. I know hers was, too. My dick was getting so hard. Part of me wanted her to see it. But the other part hoped she wasn't paying attention to it.
"My bad. Lemme stop looking so good." She ran her hands through my hair. Jayda loved to play with my hair. She said it was fun because it felt good.
"Oh, baby, I love it when you play in my hair!" I joked, acting like I was in one of those corny Pantene shampoo ads. She laughed and lay down on the bed. I lay down right next her and started stroking her stomach.
"You a funny ass dude." She commented, still stroking my hair.
"I always strive to make you laugh. Because you deserve it, babe." I lowered my head down and kissed her.
"You've got soft lips," I told her, as I continued stroking her stomach. She moaned, and I hadn't even realized that my fingers grazed her pubic line.
"Oh!" I sat up and immediately turned red. "Sorry. I didn't--"
She shushed me by putting her finger to my lips.
"It's cool, baby. Damn, why is you so jumpy these days? Like you're scared to take it to the next level?"
Now was the time. I had to tell her.
I grabbed Jayda's hands and began massaging them with my thumbs.
"Jayda," I hesitated for a moment, but she was still looking dead at me. God, she was so hot.
"What?"
"I think . . ." Fuck it. I'd spit it out. 6 times fucked over at Ammington would mean nothing. Why not make it seven? Why not have her tell me that she doesn't want to be serious with a white guy because she prefers black guys? Everyone else screwed me over. She'd be nothing new.
The room was dimly lit. I even lit a few candles in case we got serious. Perfect scene for lovemaking.
"Jayda, I think I'm falling for you. In love. I already love you, but now I think I'm wrapped up in it." That's when I finally breathed.
When Jayda lowered her head, I thought it was because she was going to tell me that she didn't want me that way, but then I heard her sob. I held her head up. She was crying.
"What? What's wrong, Jay?" I wiped some of her tears away. "Why are you crying?"
"Because you took the words right out of my mouth." She admitted, looking at me.
I was so happy I couldn't even think straight. "Oh, wow." Then I laughed. "Wow. This is so awesome."
Jayda wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "I know." She smiled. "I love you, Adam. I just . . . I thought you wouldn't be into me that way, either. Guess we were both wrong, huh?"
Oh yeah. Very much so.
The way the dim light was hitting her face made me want her so badly. "Jayda," I kept rubbing her hands. "Baby, I've loved you ever since we became friends. Those little douche bags at Ammington can say what they want, but I love you. You're special."
She beamed. "You are, too, Adam. You're the only guy I've ever been with who hasn't treated me like shit. And I thank God you came into my life, boo."
We kissed for a long time. Really long time. My hand magically found the button of her jeans, and I fondled it. Then, I stuck my hand between her legs and gently rubbed up against her pussy. When she let out a moan, she threw her head back. My lips grazed her neck and she whispered, "Oh, that feel so goooood. . ."
I stopped for a moment, having to catch myself.
"What?" She sat up.
Why had I become so shy? I saw what was there. She was letting me have it.
