The Voice 12

Dear Reader,

This story is a genuine description of the passion that can be shared between two people when they both let go.

I was riding down a road I had never been on before. I was the passenger on another exciting date, and the guy I was on the date with was cool, but like most other men I had met lately, there was something missing. He was a good looking, black man, he was successful at his work (making three figures), and he had a nice new jeep. He was funny and he had all the things I'm supposed to want in a guy, but as I ride down the road, I wonder how long I'll be able to "go through the motions," this time.

We were on our way back from the mountains, when he unwrapped a new CD and put it into the player. He told me the CD was spoken poetry, and if I didn't like it we could listen to something else. I was mildly curious, as I haven't been exposed too much poetry in my life. Don't get me wrong, I wrote a few, "in love" or "broken hearted" poems in High School, but I quickly found that it was very challenging to fit my expressions into perfectly timed phrases or into witty and rhymed declarations. I found myself totally disappointed with writing poetry shortly after being introduced to it.

The CD started to play, and he turned the volume way up so we could hear the poetry over the wind in the topless jeep. As the volume got louder and louder my heart started to beat with anticipation. The voice I heard coming through the speakers was the most sensual and sultry voice I'd heard in a long time. This voice was comparable to Barry White and James Earl Jones. At first, I just listened to the sexiest voice I'd heard in a long time, and then I started paying attention to what he was saying.

The man was talking about very real issues. He was talking with passion and conviction. He was speaking his heart and his life lessons, he was telling the audience about very painful truths he experienced. I could envision every scene he described, I imagined his face as he spoke, but most of all I found myself lost in his sexy voice. He spoke of an abused little girl that found her way out of the terrible cycle of victim-hood, and I could feel my eyes start to tear up. I was thankful the sun was down, and my tears were hidden by the darkness of night. His words were clear and loud, he was so fearless, he wasn't afraid of his voice or what he had to say. He didn't care if someone misunderstood him, nor if he sounded silly. He just spoke the truth as he saw it. I admired his courage and strength immediately.

On the long ride back to my car, I thought about my own passion in life and my personal convictions. I found myself wondering about the man behind the voice, I wondered if he lived a satisfied life, or if he stumbled from enthusiasm to enthusiasm continually searching for fulfillment. I wondered if a fearless man like him would ever look at me with the desire. I wondered what it would be like to look into his eyes, I wonder if they would be hollow and sad, or if they would be filled with excitement and fervor.

The jeep ride was over and my date wanted my attention, but part of my mind would never leave the man on the CD. The next few days, I wondered if it would be silly to even try to get in touch with the man that spoke poetry to my heart and breathed hope into my soul. I obsessed about why I was obsessing about him. I tried to make myself believe I was just being ridiculous, and most poetry lovers felt this way about poetry. However, my heart kept nagging me, and reminding me of all the lifeless, passionless people I had met in this town.

My spirit kept telling me that men like this are rare and hard to find, then my head started telling me to forget it because he wouldn't give me the time of day anyway, and my memory just kept reminding me. I felt a three-sided battle within. Over and over my mind would play his voice, not the exact words he spoke, but the sexy sound of passion spilling from his mouth to my ears. A few days later, I went on another date with the man that introduced me to spoken poetry. We enjoyed a movie together, but when I left I asked him about the CD we listened to last time. He told me to look it up, and gave me the name of his web site.

I filled my time with looking for a job and dealing with today's tasks, but I found myself wondering more and more about the poet with the beautiful voice. One day, I found myself bored with everything I usually look at on the computer and my mind started to wander back to the smooth, sexy tone of his voice and the conviction that flowed from his heart to his listeners. It had been a month and a half since I heard it, but I decided I had to have answers. I had to know if this man was someone worth fantasizing about, is he real and humble and wonderful just like my heart was telling me, or is he arrogant, rigid.

I did a search for his company, and it was there at the top of the list. My heart started beating hard and fast. I expected to look around and not find anything, but there was a link to myspace. As soon as I clicked on the link, I would get to see the face of the man I had only imagined thus far. I sat for a moment and considered what I was about to do, and reconsidered, then I clicked on the link.

As I waited for the computer to process the request to take me to his myspace page, I wondered if I would be able to send him a message. I didn't have an account anymore, but I really wanted to e-mail him. Then, his picture popped up. I was looking at a beautiful black man; he was smiling a beautiful wide, white smile and looking directly into the camera. I looked at his pictures and read his latest blog, but I really wanted to talk to him. Unfortunately, his page says he's in another state, and I loose my excitement and start feeling disappointed. I go back to my regular e-mail and type out a reply to a friend, but my heart continues to nag and my memory starts flashing. I start re-thinking my disappointment; I really want to get to know this man. I believe in fate and consequences, I believe that if I'm supposed to meet this man it will happen. Whether he's in another state or another country, if it's meant to be it will be.

I try to send him a message, the website sends me to the "sign up" page, and I again loose my excitement. I turn off my brother's computer, and I go on with my day trying to forget those sweet pictures of the beautiful, black man smiling into the camera. When I remember his pictures, I feel like he's really smiling directly at me. That night after everyone was in bed, I create another account. I laid in bed that night spinning with excitement, knowing that I could type a message to him anytime I wanted. Now the fear started to set in, fear of rejection, fear of feeling foolish, fear of embarrassment, and fear of whatever my brain could come up with. I fell asleep wishing I had more courage, and fantasizing about the man I could now see clearly in my head.

The next day, I decided to message him, I told him how his poetry touched me. His response was short and sweet; he wanted to talk to me and left his phone number. Now I was really afraid! I have learned over the years that my voice gets me into trouble a lot. It's too high and annoying when I'm upset, I giggle too much when I'm nervous, it's too intimidating when I'm angry, it quivers when I'm about to cry, and most of all I sound like a little girl when people first hear me. Ya, I've been told these things enough times over the years to finally believe them, so I usually avoid any phone conversations till I'm more comfortable with the person and the situation.

Over the years, I have developed a better sense of expressing myself in the written word, I quickly found I could embrace my feelings through vocabulary, and I'm comforted by the quiet clicking on the keys as I express myself on the screen in front of me. My relief comes from not worrying about the sound of my voice, only the meaning of my words. When I write, I'm not concerned about what people think because I'm confident I articulated my message well.

My solution was to just e-mail him again, but I wasn't sure what to say. I had though of this moment for a couple of days, but I really didn't expect it to happen. I had told myself that he was too busy to respond to his e-mails, or that he was already seeing someone. Most of all, I told my heart not to be hopeful when I e-mailed him. I asked him, if he ever came to Phoenix, as I would love to see him perform live. Again, he responded with a phone number, but this time he said he is in Phoenix now. I started feeling a little queasy, I wanted so badly to talk to him and meet him. However, I was so worried I'd say something stupid or he'd get a bad first impression (which seems to be common for me). On the other hand, I was afraid, if I put him off I might loose out on an opportunity to see him smile or look into his eyes.

So, I took a shower, I washed my body and fantasized about what it might feel like to have his hands on my body. I closed my eyes and imagined kissing his lips and touching his face. I decided I'd call him. I got out of the shower telling myself that I'd call him later, but I found that I was rushing to get dressed and to my phone to call him. I wondered why I felt like this, when I had never even met this man.

I knew the answer, but I didn't want to admit it. This poet is filled with passion when he speaks; he expresses emotion with the calmness and clarity of a very wise man. I sat on the couch and dialed his number. I looked at it for a few minutes and decided to make myself a sandwich. Maybe eating would calm me, but it just made my stomach hurt worse. My hands were actually shaking a little when I pressed send; I started hoping he wouldn't answer. He did answer, and I was faced with introducing myself over the phone to a man I was already secretly infatuated with.

We made arrangements, and I picked him up after work. As he approached my car my heart beat with a fierce excitement. He wears his hair in small tight dreadlocks, and his skin is smooth and dark. He probably stands 5' 10" and has tight, defined arms, full, kissable lips, and beautiful teeth. His smile and voice were even more amazing in person. I asked him questions, and listened to him talk. When we arrived at his house, he invited me in. I really thought I would just sit and talk with him, but when two passionate single people occupy the same space for too long the inevitable happens.

I quickly find myself perched at the side of his bed while he rests for a few minutes from a long day at work. I offer to rub his back (I know!) and achy shoulders, and he accepts with glee. As I straddle his body and rub his back, my pussy starts to pulse and throb. I can hardly believe this is happening! The man that I had thought about for almost two months was between my legs! I rubbed his back and coveted the feel of his beautiful skin on my fingertips. I secretly hoped he would want to feel my body too.

As the lotion I was using to massage him started to build up on his skin, I informed him that I was going to stop. He rolled over and invited me to straddle him again, this time he wanted me to kiss him. Oh this was a dream, it had to be a dream, nothing like this ever happened to me! However, my head started screaming, "you barely met this man, you shouldn't do this." My heart was screaming back, "I deserve this, it's been too long since I felt this way."

I straddled his hips and leaned forward to kiss his lips. When his lips touched mine, and our tongues started to dance, I knew instantly. This man has everything it takes to steal my heart and break it into a thousand pieces, and I knew I would let him. The passion from our first kiss was enough to tell me that my obsession was not silly, nor was my heart lying about him.

I kissed him back, and I watched his face a few times. He has his eyes closed and he enjoyed my kisses to. I could feel his dick getting hard beneath my hot pussy. I pressed my pelvis into him acknowledging that I was aware of his excitement. I touched his face and kissed his neck, I used my mouth not to talk to him but to express my feelings none the less. We kissed like teenagers and enjoyed the newness of each other. He started to talk to me and tease me.

He unzipped his pants and pulled his beautiful, black cock out, and told me I could only feel him with my hand. I touched him and groped him for a few minutes, but I knew my mouth would do a much better job of feeling him. So, I ignored his playful rules and moved down to have better access to his rock hard member. I licked the tip and started to make love to his dick with my mouth. I alternated a slow firm stroke with lots of suction, and a quick short stroke listening for the sounds of pleasure escaping while I bathed his cock with my moist, hot, mouth.

I enjoyed giving my new friend a wonderful blowjob. It is one of my favorite sex acts, and I'm thinking he enjoyed it too. I could tell that this man was disciplined and wouldn't cum unless he chose to. I backed off and started to talk to him again. He said he wanted to return the favor, and I was disappointed. I wanted to feel his big black cock inside of me, as I had never really enjoyed receiving oral sex that much anyway. I laughed it off and tried to dissuade him, but he'd have none of it. I even told him I've never cum that way; his response was equally as disappointing.

He said, "well, you have never had me then."

I decided to open my legs and let him eat my pussy. I expected the usual licking and fingering and a little clit stimulation then he'd give up and just fuck me. I was so wrong! He started with a little licking and fingering, but soon he clamped his mouth around my pussy and started doing something so wonderful and mind blowing I couldn't even tell what it was he was doing. My legs started to tremble with the fantastic feeling I was experiencing.

The feeling in my pussy and belly was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was so intense I thought I was going to pass out, but it was intense in the most wonderful way imaginable. Part of me wanted him to stop so I could breath, and part of me wanted him to continue till I passed out. I tried to get him to stop, and he did for a minute. I breathed and tried to relax, but as soon as his mouth clamped down on my clit again my lungs didn't work and my legs shook with the intensity of an earthquake. I held my breath and tried to relax again, but the feeling he was causing was so wonderfully intense and pleasurable I couldn't. I have never experienced anything so breathtaking in my life. Even my first orgasm was nothing in comparison to how he was making my body feel right now, but I had to breathe. I tried to breath and relax, but again I couldn't. I pushed him away.

He said, "it's no fair when you fight back," and chuckled.

I wasn't sure what to do, I wanted his mouth to make my pussy come alive again, but I wasn't sure I could handle anymore. For the first time in my life, I realized that I might be able to cum from oral sex. I begged him to stop for now, thinking it was too much all in one night. He leaned forward and started to kiss me, his kisses were like the waves of a tsunami crashing into my soul forcing passion and desire back into my life. I could feel the tip of his cock rub on my wet slit from time to time, but he was not making any attempt to enter my throbbing, wet pussy. I lifted my hips a couple of times trying to trap his hard cock and force it to slid inside me, but each time it would slide away.

I couldn't take it anymore, and I reached down and inserted the head of his dick into the opening of my pussy that was so wet I can't even get a grip on him. As soon as he realizes what I'm doing, he pushes in hard and deep. His big cock slides in with ease as my pussy has already been waiting. The sensation of him inside of me feels like fireworks and lights up my soul from the inside. We rock and pound each others bodies rhythmically for a while, and again I can tell he is a very disciplined and unselfish lover as he holds back a couple times. He is waiting for me to cum first!

I'm now sure God has finally answered my prayers, he sent this beautiful black man straight from heaven to show me how to feel alive again. I straddle him again this time with full intent to cum all over him. I pull my shirt and bra off so he can see my body, as I'm now fucking him. His cock is buried as deep as it can go in me, and I slowly start to ride him. His body feels good between my legs, and I can feel it respond as I move my body. My orgasm starts to pulse to the surface almost immediately after impaling myself on his big dick. I know I can cum almost instantly.

I look into his eyes and ask him, "Do you want me to cum?"

His response was short he said, "yes, cum all over me."

That's all I needed to hear, my orgasm started to pulse with increased intensity. It wanted to rip through my body, but I waited. I stroked his cock with my pussy; I lifted up and stroked just the sweet mushroom head. Then I slid back down and stroked the whole thing, and when the urgency to cum was strong. I relaxed and rocked to the natural rhythm my body demanded, and started to coax my orgasm into reaching it's full potential. As the first wave started to peek, I looked deep into his eyes and announced, "I'm gonna cum, Oh I'm cumming."

My orgasm pulsed with the power of an electric wire. It pounded through my body with the intensity that drug makers try to reproduce but never can. The natural high that comes from two people when they are attracted to each other, and then let go of their fear. Some people spend their money chasing it, some people push others away to hide from it, and yet still some people only dream of experiencing it, but I have it. If only briefly, it is mine. Passion and ecstasy are part of my life again!