With a life dedicated to being a voice behind the sports world, journalist Sarai Nazaire worked her way through the ranks to become one of the youngest and most sought after faces for sports television. Her will and honor to not only be accurate in...
Twinkle twinkle little me I have a present too If you give unselfishly And make a wish come true I'll always shine for you
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The medley of central heating and the whistles of brisk air looming around my bedroom left my thoughts in disarray as I shifted my sweltering frame from its flat laying position to one on my side, facing the closed and deliberately locked door.
While scooting further down the surface of the queen-sized mattress, my left hand drew into the cotton of the emerald shaded oversized t-shirt draping over me, and I further pulled it up until it was bunched up and creasing just under my breasts. My eyes panned to the flimsy black nylon idly laying on the floor as I hiked up my knee as close to my upper chest area as possible and yearningly reached down to meet the throbbing that seemed to be endless for more days that I am able to count.
The slickness coating my fingers only further coerced me to strum my thumb over my most sensitive pressure point, immediately evoking a gasp and eventually a faint whimper to slip past my drying lips. My tongue laved over the lower one as my mouth remained agape the further I teasingly caressed the tiny raised nub in an attempt to ease the tension tormenting me.
Just as he would when coyly provoking me to plead for him, I slowly insert my index finger inside to meet my pulsating walls and it only took two pumps for me to need to follow up with my middle finger as well. With natural muscle memory, I drew them forward and slightly withdrew them from me in a strategic swirl just as he would.
Like a melting ice cream cone on the most scorching day of the summer, I leaked onto my fingers and down the surface of the rest of my hand in far more of a longing for him than what I am currently doing for myself. No matter how much my hips sensually moved and I begged my mind to become one with my body, an orgasm would not be tonight's greatest triumph.
With a swift withdrawal, my doused hand idly rested alongside my body while my eyes panned to the pearl white ceiling with faint tears brimming the lower lids of my eyes. If anything, I think my throbbing and secreting is her down there sobbing in misery for me. I'm no sex addict but I'll be damned if I haven't been feeling like one for the past two months.
In a manipulation that I can't quite comprehend no matter how much I try to, the night I returned home from overworking myself at Celeste's home began a sparked yet another wave of a mental frenzy about Odell that I seemed to have been getting under control over these past few months.
As I stood on my mother's steps bantering back and forth with Taylor, a medley of delusions and fantasy captured my conscious as hints of bergamot, cedar musk, sage alluringly slithered up my nose and rendered me speechless.
In despondency, I panned my eyes up and down the street in hopes that I'd somehow see him standing close by while silently waiting to grab me into his arms to remind me of how much he loves and still wants me despite our abrupt split and every aspect of personal and public controversy that arose in the midst and after it. My yearning seemed to worsen as that very scent followed me into the first level of my mother's brownstone. Oddly, it seemed to be at its strongest in the areas of the living room and the kitchen.
