Kyla Is Back; The Recasting

Women come and go, it’s inevitable. I get tired of them, they get tired of me, or they find a man who delivers those magical words, “I want you to be mine.” 75% of the time, the man they choose to stop dealing with me for turns out to be a liar, cheater, abuser, or something worst. Of course I don’t like losing women that I have good sexual chemistry with, but it’s a part of life. Armed with this knowledge, I am no longer surprised when I get a text from former associates and friends saying that they are done with the dude who replaced me. Recently, such was the case with Kyla and I gladly welcomed her back with open arms and unzipped pants…

Kyla (from Punany Poets and The Matchmaker) chose to end our relationship back in June. We were cool outside of sex, so we kept in contact for a while until her significant other started calling my phone acting like a little girl. I told her to delete my number and to have fun enjoying her new arrangement.

That was then, this is now:

Kyla: Hello sir 10:05 AM
Me: hello sex kitten 10:21 AM
Kyla: Lol its funny you said that I swear my clit is throbbing 10:23 AM
Me: oh really 10:23 AM
Kyla: It wants to be touched…… by someone other than me 10:26 AM
Me: well come on 10:28 AM
Kyla: I am finished class in 15 wanna meet up in an hr? 10:33 AM
Kyla: be there by 12:15 11:43 AM
Kyla: You know your meeting me at the ren centre right? Phone is dieing…. 12:03 PM
Me: yes 12:04 PM

Green Light.

As I approach the Renaissance Center, I see her standing next a to Caucasian woman, gleaming with benevolence. They were studying a piece of artwork, as happy as they could be, sharing ideas and critiques on the object before them. I relish in watching her interact with people. She has a kindness that seems to be empty in a lot of African-American young women that I’ve met. She has a pleasurable nature, probably derived from her work history in customer service, which makes her a joy to be around.

The biggest non-sexual turn-on about Kyla, which is what I call her because she looks JUST LIKE Kyla Pratt, is her work ethic. I’m captivated by women who work hard. She works two jobs and goes to school. She’s well traveled, having lived in 5 or more states, and 3 different countries. Her experiences undoubtedly shape her character. Not to mention she’s cute and bisexual.

After I go pay my DTE bill, we make our way to the suburbs and stop at Applebee’s. I’m not a big Applebee’s fan, but I did like that chocolate cake and ice cream combination for dessert that I ate off her plate. After we concluded lunch, she said, “I needed that, now I need you.” GREEN LIGHT.

She’s removing her shirt in a hotel room next to Applebee’s. I’m sitting in a chair with my camera in my hand, instructing her slowly, but she’s moving fast. She doesn’t care for video footage. I stood in front of her on the bed, while she undid the button on my boxer briefs, releasing an erection that made her smile. Kisses to my lower region followed, along with strokes by her tightly gripped hand. I turned the camera off and sat it on the night stand.

From our sexual inception, my attempts to be indolent abruptly failed. She made me get on top of her, instructing me to nibble on her nipples while she adjoined the prophylactic to my erectile organ. Her fuck faces excited me as I slid inside of her, kissing on her neck. Unhurried, I caressed her walls with the sole mission of my penetration causing deep vaginal contractions. I succeeded, twice. ASK ABOUT ME.

Now I’m behind her; face down, ass up. Eero Saarinen could not have designed a better arch. I’m FULL. No Extenz pills. No prescription or over the counter remedies. This is natural. The child of passion and lust. I hit the bottom of her pussy yall. Word to Killa. Her pleasure is expressed by the cream discharging onto the Magnum Extacy that I see everytime I back out. “Harder,” she directs, resulting in strokes hard enough to look I was trying to bust down the front door in a Detroit drug house on The First 48. ASK ABOUT ME.

She calmly explodes again, gripping the sheets. “I missed you.” “Damn it’s so good daddy.” She’s cheating. I put her on top of me, thus extending my initial run time, atleast in theory. She began to grind slowly, almost making me cum, making me realize I need to regain control of the situation. “Squat,” I instructed. Squatting allows both of us to fuck eachother. I’m throwing it up, she’s trying to throw it down, but she gives in to my thrust. I begin to grab her neck, bringing her face close to mines. Lips touching, but not kissing. She begins to win, overpowering me. My eyes twitch and I uncork a surprise that would have looked better spread across her abs than in my condom.

She laid in the bed, virtually paralyzed. “I have to pee, but I don’t want to get up,” she said in short breaths. I laughed at her exaggeration and left to grab some Apple Pies from McDonald’s. When I returned, she was ready, but I was more into watching Four Christmases than the thought of having sex again; which that didn’t last long.

She specializes in erectile reincarnation. The feel of her soft hands across my back, kisses to my chest and neck, and erotic talk almost made me succumb to temptation, but I yielded not. It wasn’t until that she raised the comforter over her head and placed me inside of her mouth, that I slid inside her once more.

From her arrival until her departure, I enjoyed her company; I always do. We aren’t meant to be, but we’ve learned to enjoy the time we are together and leave it at that. Atleast I have.

Oh yea, for Cashmere Closet…here:

Related Posts:

• The Punany Poets Pt. 2
• The Punany Poets Pt. 1
• The Matchmaker
• No Head, No Service
• The Mobile Hotel: Sweat, Cream, and Cameras

Author: The Undresser

Black, Single, and Not Looking. Enjoys grilled salmon, cold glasses of water, and grocery shopping at Meijer. Likes women with nice ass to waist ratios, Reese Cups, and watching Real Time with Bill Maher. Dislikes cigarettes, littering, and disobedient children.

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