Dora Boyd

I never got involved with any of my neighbours or befriended any one of them. A simple salutation seemed more than sufficient, that is until I met Dora Boyd. She was determined to make me speak further to ascertain my full name. I think that I would have told her everything. I found myself talking to her as if I had known her since her Doris days. I even invited her, as soon as our chat was nearing its end, to my apartment for a homemade diner.

She came early, took off her shoes, helped me set the table, and lit the two prick-shaped candles that she found in one of the drawers when she was looking for the cutlery. We laughed about it, especially after I explained that I got them as a gift from a colleague at work who beat me for a promotion. We ate in near darkness but it seemed brighter than daylight as her entire being illuminated my immediate space.

I never expected to fall so quickly for a woman I barely knew. But it was happening and I couldn’t slow it. I wouldn’t if I could. Obediently, I threw myself at her feet and watched her chain me to the rest of her body. It was a temple and I was ready to pray in her for the rest of my life. I fell in love with every centimetre of her, every one of her movements, every single pause, every sensuous breath, even her feet. Her toes were more beautiful than the nicest fingers.

I gazed at her nakedness overpowering my own desire to undress. Sensing my stillness, she slowly stripped me, checked my prick, and took me into her. I traveled to many realms of ecstasy and wanted to pursue my orgasmic journey, but she only allowed me one. All my efforts to please her again were in vain. She finally intimated that she preferred to keep part of her passion for early morning and she set my alarm for six. Sex at six. Who could ask for anything more?

She was on top of me when I awoke and I do not remember if I heard the alarm clock. She moved her body in circles and brought me twice into the centre of the universe. As soon as she discovered that I was empty, she got up, dressed — I wanted to help — showing me each sexy part as if it was the last time, thanked me for a most fruitful night, and left.

I knocked at her door that evening, being greeted by a woman whose resemblance to Dora was striking. She invited me in and seemed to know me. She was expecting Dora any minute and introduced herself as her closest friend. Lydia was very open, which also reminded me of Dora. I found out that they lived and worked together. She offered me a drink that I swallowed in one gulp. She poured me another, but this time I emptied it slowly, trying to savour it, at least.

“The brandy is very good but one is my limit,” I said at one point. She did not reply but her smile was almost identical to Dora’s, which left me obsessed. “You look a lot like Dora,” I said at a later point. She smiled like Dora and gave me a kiss. My heart skipped a beat.

“You look a little pale,” Lydia said.

That’s not bad. I was actually thinking that life was too good but my brain probably disagreed.

“I like you,” Lydia said.

I like you too, I said. I think that I hear Dora at the door.

Dora was quite surprised to see me, telling me that Lydia was her cousin and lover. Not knowing what to say, I wished them a pleasant night and left.

The following morning, Dora knocked at my door at six. She needed my sperm. She explained that she kept it inside her until she had an orgasm with Lydia. Feeling the creamy heated liquid drip out of her onto Lydia gave her great pleasure and pleased Lydia even more. I suggested that Lydia may need a man and that I needed her. We made love till seven and ten minutes later she was gone.

I knocked at their door at eight and was welcomed by Lydia who led me to their bedroom. She asked me to make love to her. Dora lay there urging me to. While I was inside Lydia, she felt like Dora, and in a narrow sense, I could swear that she was. I had a theoretical threesome.

After breakfast, Lydia informed us that she was leaving for good. Dora had been saddened by the news but respecting Lydia’s decision, she wished her the best of luck. They had been discussing a separation when they discovered that they also liked men. Lucky me!

Her apartment was the darker of the two. I, therefore, sold mine and moved in with Dora. We got married at an even later point. She decided to keep her maiden name. I told her that I wouldn’t mind becoming a Boyd. To this day, I adore Dora Boyd Floyd.