Mental Pause: A One Night Stand in the Ebony Mind

My nails dug experience and wisdom from his back. I wanted to be courteous sending signals that he is doing a good job — considering his fragile ego.

If I didn’t, I would be denting his armor that protected his masculinity and flawed perception about his bedroom performances.

My legs embraced him as a snake to its prey; his snake continuing to slither around my garden.

I didn’t want to rush him; I really do love him — our relationship disguised as casual interest. Whatever amount of affection he has for me I cherish it. I could care less for sex, HOWEVER, I love men preferably dark chocolate; but this flavor surprised me.

Yet, I hate vanilla. Is that racist?

I set my body on auto-pilot; a technique I mastered over the course of my relationship. My mind disconnects from the physical.

I’ve trained my body to trigger; he would receive cues under the impression of “hitting the right spots.”

As my avatar did its thing, my mind was free to wander in it’s stationary outer-body experience.

“What was that YouTube video of the chick in those slim Fashion Novas? That would look soooo cute on me!”