Skeletons in my closet

The silent running dialogue that I often have with myself.

Friday, February 24, 2006


Break in the Story….Sorry but you guys will have to wait for the continuation of My Life IV. This came to me two days ago and I had to flesh it out. Its some true shyte, hope you enjoy. Be back on Monday to complete the story.

I held her. I marked the passing moments as I lay there holding her. I am not much for tender moments during lovemaking but I think she needed this more than I needed the sex. Her breath was even now, and I could feel the tension leaving her body. I didn’t know why she cried or why I cared but both events were true. So I laid with her in my arms and I contemplated…

How I got there…
You ever run across your match, or someone who believe they to be your equal. A person who can give and get just as much as you can dispense and receive. Well, I was lucky enough to run across this during a much-needed time in my life, someone who had the ability to care for and about me without being consumed by me.

We met at one of my fraternity’s functions. A casual meeting that almost went unmarked. In hindsight it appears that we both employed the same dating strategy. In a crowd of people I mesh in, never draw attention. First appearance is that of a shy person or loner, someone introspective and aloof.

When I saw her she was standing away from the crowd. Cutest little hair cut, with prim and proper eyeglasses. She looked as though she was in a constant state of contemplation, almost a worried look on her brow. The only thing that gave her away was her body. She was cute, almost girl-next-door kinda cute. She had a very sexy figure, nice breast small waist followed by ample ass and thighs. She could almost go unnoticed until that ass came into to view. But never the less I held my cards and continued my morose ploy.

Later that night as the boys hung until the wee hours of the morning between a bit of player hating and obvious adulation I discovered that this young lady had inquired about me, and wanted me to take possession of her number.

I gladly accepted the number, and called to see if she had needs I could meet that night. And frankly I cant remember what happened that first night, I am not sure if we connected or not but I do recall many hours spent in each others arms making love to one another. For the continued evolution of the story we will call her Squeaky. Her voice was highly pitched on the verge of being annoying but at the same time sweet.

The is such a huge difference between making love and phuking. If anybody disagrees then chances are either you aint never been phucked, or you have never been made love to. Further I don’t believe one has to be in love to make love, people can be at the same place and time in their lives and shyte just works. That is what we had, we worked.

I will add that we were very dumb in as we had unsafe sex. But for the grace of god no children were produced of our many unions. Nor did we transmit or receive any communicable social diseases. I will admit that I suffered one malady that all brothers can identify with, ‘Brush Burn’. I contribute that malady to our frequent bouts of grown buck-naked sex fun. Her appetite was insatiable, and I was likewise unrelenting.

TMI moment, I have been blessed or cursed with no refractory period. Look it up.

There was a feeling out phase that I escalated for some reason. At the time I was damn near homeless, driving a raggedy automobile…with no air…and a door that didn’t work. She was a focused and intelligent college student. That summer with her and my friends was one of the best of my life. I spent most of my nights with her. Shyte was lovely. I really think I opened her mind up, a proposition that she will never own up to even till this day.
Squeaky was a tad bit controlling. When she didn’t get her way she could really put on a display. We started out as typical boy girl relationships do. We ended as typical boy girls do, in a fight.

At the time of our kicking it, I was still married. Okay, I know that comes as a shock to all of you, but allow me to explain. I was married technically! I had filed for divorce and hadn’t been living with my wife for 3-4 years. We were separate and apart. I had filed my divorce papers with the help of a friend, but I couldn’t pay to finish the deal, so that shyte sat in limbo. If you read My Life, I will supplement this divorce story in greater detail.

I neglected to inform Squeaky of my quasi-marital status. How did she find out?

Well, let me tell you, the shyte was a classic embarrassing moment, the likes of which I have yet to surpass even to this day.

One morning, after leaving my current abode, with Squeaky in tow, my ex-wife just happened to pass in front of my driveway. I made it a point to stay out of her way cause she was a bit crazy…. violent…and crazy. My poor Squeaky never saw it coming. My ex-wife/current wife at the time jumped out of her car and raced toward us. I braced for impact unable to predict from where the blows would come. Like I said she was violent.

I short shoving match between Squeaky and the X-wife ensued. Followed by the deafening words:

“Did he tell you he was married!!!!!”

I really wish I completed my life for you so you could have a better frame of reference, but I needed to get this story out of my head. Further, I really don’t know why my X went there. She may have wanted me back, I don’t know. We hadn’t communicated for months. I just think she was hating on my sexy little companion.

At this point my X came after me. My training in blocking wife attacks was a little rusty, but I could still get the job done. The trick is to block without counter attacking. (Because if you counterattack the police will arrest you!) I was able to fend of her blows and separate her and Squeaky. Somehow, and I promise it was unintentional my X ended up falling over a pile of trash while Squeaky and I made our get-a-way.

That ride in my broken door, airless, hooptie was even more unbearable. We sat in silence, until she cried. I hurt her, I knew, it, my apologies were mere words. I would never repair this damage. All the “I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell yous” in the world couldn’t fix this mess. I knew from that point on our little summer love was over.

Fast forward a few years…

Somehow I managed to keep my foot in the door, and keep myself wedged somewhere between her legs and her heart. I ended up at her door that evening. She invited me in as coyly. The few years had been kind to her. Actually amplifying her natural gifts. Her, azz was tadow! Her look was even sexier. She was a woman now, all traces of little girl and been bleed from her by men with there lies, and women with their sorrows.

I reached for her and we embraced. My excitement was already evident and she understood. However, we still played the game of being social. A game of TV and drinks, game that only raised the level of stimulation. I was chomping at the bit to start chomping at her bits.

She finally invited me upstairs to do grown folks stuff. We played and teased until the moment was right. And it was right, right were I left it, feeling oh so incredible. Our magic was still there in my mind, no matter where she and gone and what she had done she was still my Squeaky.

Her, softness and curves I touched, remembering thighs that still danced through my mind. Breast that caught my attention, still commanded my attention. And the last enabler, her wetness. How could one not sin when presented with this taste of beauty, this morsel of devils delight, all that with manna from heaven between her thighs, inviting ,,,nah enticing me forward. As I made love to her, I felt that oneness again!

Then she cried. Her tears flowed down my face firstly being mistaken for sweat. She cried!

I want to leave you with the story at that point. But I am such a fan of closing right. All I will say is I never was told the reason for her tears. I just take it as it was given to me.

We had a really close bond though for some reason. A bond that continues to this day…maybe not so close but still a bond.


  • At 10:29 AM, Blogger Brotha Buck said…

    ‘Brush Burn’...LOL, I must admit, brush burn is the only thing I miss about my exwife. Boy, that just brought back memories.

  • At 11:26 AM, Blogger onecoolhoney said…

    That one was pretty deep, CO. This one has to be my favorite post so far.

  • At 2:10 PM, Blogger Serenity23 said…

    All I can do is shake my damn head.

  • At 2:41 PM, Blogger African girl, American world said…

    At this point my X came after me. My training in blocking wife attacks was a little rusty, but I could still get the job done. The trick is to block without counter attacking. (Because if you counterattack the police will arrest you!)

    that had me on the floor!!!

    I've cried before. could be one of 2 things going on...

    1) this is so damn good and we are ONE at this moment

    2) your ass hurt me so bad but I love you and I'm a fool for doing this again but I love you and this love making is deep.

    pick one.

  • At 2:53 PM, Blogger Closet Owner said…

    I like number 1...but 2 aint bad!

  • At 2:49 PM, Blogger Serenity23 said…

    Mwabi-How about we get the other party on here and ask her? CO is suspect...

  • At 5:47 AM, Blogger nikki said…

    that was a totally enthralling story! you have a way with words. the confrontation with your ex was just scary, though.

  • At 8:13 AM, Blogger Juicy said…

    I'm falling in love with your writing. You have a way with words that is amazing. I'm addicted!!!

  • At 7:04 PM, Blogger sj-the-infamous said…

    okey dokey then...i obviously have MUCHO reading to do to catch on tu vida amigo. When insomnia hits in the coming days, i shall return....


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