Working fourteen-hour shifts is grueling most of the time, but it's only three days a week, which isn't too bad. It gives me plenty of time to think about Damien, even though I admit I often rely on that to get through the long hours of my shift. Muscle memory is a wonderful thing; when you perform the same tasks every day in the same routine, you don’t have to consciously think about what needs to be done—your body takes over.

Damien has been on my mind every day. Not that I minded at all. It’s the one thing in life that gives me pleasure no matter the circumstances. I couldn’t help but smile at our last encounter. I was being devoured on my dining room table instead of eating the meal I had carefully planned. The interesting thing about that encounter happened the next morning, when I woke up and noticed a very noticeable hickey on my right breast. It was purple, almost black, and very tender to the touch. The material of my bra touching it was murder most of the day, and I couldn’t wait to take it off.

My body ached from the long hours on my feet. My mind raced with questions about where the hickey came from, since I hadn’t been with anyone in over three years. But there it was. I jumped into the shower, hoping to ease the ache in my legs. That was usually the only thing that bothered me about working: my legs and, of course, my feet.

The hot water felt good, very relaxing. I let my mind wander back to the last encounter with Damien. After that damn alarm woke me up, I didn’t get a chance to really follow through on what I wanted to do to him. It was no secret how much I wanted to kiss him, not just any kiss. A warm, deep, passionate kiss. The kind that starts with the meeting of the lips. Then one person takes the initiative to part the other’s lips gently, gently inserting their tongue into the other’s mouth and exploring the deepest depths of their soul.

‘MMMM’ slipped from my lips, and I took the loofah, lathering my body with the sweet-smelling vanilla soap. The water trickled over my shoulders and down my breasts. I followed the water's flow with the loofah. I worked in circles around each breast, squeezing and pinching each nipple as I imagined Damien would if his hands were on me.

A warm sensation began to form between my legs. How I could be so connected to this man was beyond my comprehension; I didn’t understand it, but I loved the way it made me feel. I shut my eyes for just a brief moment as I felt the roughness of his fingers on my skin. Those wonderful fingers were slowly inching their way into my nest of newly growing pubic hair, which seemed to be growing faster than I ever remember it growing. His fingers felt so good as he parted my lips and began slowly rubbing my clit, making me moan with excitement.

I grabbed his forearm as I climaxed all over his fingers. My nails tightened on his skin; I could feel the pressure I was applying but couldn’t help myself. I started to feel the warmth of my cum flowing out of my body; I felt the satisfying pleasure of his teeth on my upper chest. The pain of his teeth penetrating my skin, combined with the overwhelming orgasm I had just experienced, had my head swimming.

I followed Damien into the bedroom; he had quickly stripped off his clothes and was lying across my bed. My bed. “Whew.” What a concept. His caramel-colored skin looked even lighter against the deep purple cover. It was always a joke that he was described as the whitest black man we had ever known. But when I saw him, I never really noticed his skin color. Or his soft brown eyes. He had this sexual aura about him, truly inviting. One I couldn’t get enough of.

I climbed onto the bed and ran my tongue down his chest, finding his plump nipple and sliding it into my mouth. I couldn’t help touching him. I circled his tiny black hairs on his chest as I mimicked the same motion with my tongue around his aroused nipple. I could hear his breathing growing a little more strained, and, not to sound like a cliché, it was music to my ears.

Hearing a man who doesn’t really express himself with words can be irritating, but his breathing usually says it all. All you have to do is listen. Damien is one of those men, or, I should say, he is now one of those men. I remember a time when he was quite vocal. He would moan and say one of his favorite phrases, “fuck yeah,” when things felt just right. He was also more confident than he is now, something I noticed but never brought up in our conversations.

I let my tongue wander down to his belly button. I don’t know what the obsession with belly buttons was, but ever since I saw this long-haired, top-hat-wearing lead electric guitarist climb onto a grand piano and stand there, playing an awesome solo for this song, I was totally obsessed with men’s belly buttons, and Damien’s was especially intriguing. It was deeper than most. I love rimming the edge of it and slowly plunging my tongue deep into his well. His pheromones were unusual, too; he smelled like chocolate chip cookies, which became my all-time favorite cookie.

I continued to inhale deeply. I couldn't get enough of that scent.  My hand nestled his sweet cock. It wasn’t extremely long, but oh my, it had some girth. Much wider than I had in my past. It was hard, and it felt so good in my hands. I say this now: trying to refrain from gobbling him up was so difficult, but with Damien’s sporadic visits, I never know when he is going to show up, and I wanted this to last.

I wrapped my lips around his cock and swallowed most of it.  I massaged his balls with my other hand as I stroked his cock with my mouth.  I could feel him pulsating his hips, and I matched his rhythm. He tasted so good, lost in my own mind of pleasing him, I hadn’t noticed how wet I was becoming again.

I shifted position and sat between his legs. I kept going down on him, swallowing every inch of that delicious cock. I wanted to try something with him, but I wasn’t sure how he'd react. I was notorious for overthinking. “Come on, Pepper, you can do this; just do it,” I said to myself.

I started licking his balls, and then slowly ran my tongue along his perineum towards the welcoming hole of his ass.  I gently licked at the opening before I slowly inserted my tongue into his hole. I felt him tighten up and then relax under the pleasure of my tongue. ‘Yes, that’s it. Just relax.’ I said to him in my head.  I didn't want him to know I was enjoying this as much as he was. 

When he was good and wet, I slid back up to his cock.  My mouth wrapped around his girth once again as I gently inserted my finger into his ass. His breath quickened, and his cock became even harder, if that was even possible. I synchronized my mouth with the movement of my finger. Stroking in and out and up and down at the same time. I could hear tiny moans escaping his mouth, and that sensation alone caused me to cum for the third time that night.

I began to quicken the pace, both with my mouth and my finger. Damien was matching my speed, and that’s when I heard it, his favorite saying, “Fuck yeah.” The ropes of cum were just streaming into my mouth, one after another. I swallowed hard, taking in all that he offered to me that night. He tasted so good; it was warm and creamy, and I would be considered selfish if I didn’t admit I wanted more.

I rolled over on my back, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. ‘Damn, I just did that.’ It was obvious that he enjoyed it too, or he wouldn’t have cum so much. It was a surprise to me that I also had cum, something I don’t remember doing when I was going down on a guy.  Guess we can cross that one off the bucket list.