Something “New”

I spent most of my life alone. Fucking with random women when I felt my urges taking over me. The longest I’ve gone before was 6 months since actually loosing my virginity.

I grew up in a house with only my mother. She kept me focused on school for the most part. I couldn’t put my finger on why mother ran off all of my friends. Or why she always said I could never keep a woman. She compares me a lot to a man, and men, I never even knew.

all I knew was mother. And all I loved was mother. Until I met this woman who made me question everything my mother ever said to me.

My mom always told me that no one would ever love me like she did. She wasn’t wrong. My mothers love was undeniably comforting for me. She instilled it in me. She was all I had and I was all she had, or so she allowed me to believe.

I honestly didn’t want myself to open up to her. I lay in bed thinking about the first day I laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, angelic. I had to have her. It surprised me when she didn’t deny my number, but she didn’t make talking to her easy either.

She gave me a run I must admit. It took me exactly one month before I actually approached her and held a conversation with her. She ordered her coffee where I ordered my tea. Seeing her everyday gave me something to look forward to.

”Hello,” I stood behind her as she waited for her coffee. “How about you save your money this morning, it’s on me.” I slid my credit card onto the countertop for the speechless waitress. They had already taken my order as well, so I just told her to add it to my bill.

“I can pay for my own coffee,” she snared. I could hear anger in her voice. I could tell just in that moment that she would give me a hard time. That she would turn me away.

I insisted on paying. She eventually accepted and offered for me to join her for a few moments to “chat.” Said she couldn’t allow me to pay for her coffee and not even know my name.

She asked for my name. Asked my age. If I were married. If I lived with my parents. What type of car I drove. Everything. As if one wrong answer would send me home, holding myself in pity.

I simply answered as best as I could without flinching. My mother had taught me that a man never hesitates with his responses or denies a response. She had taught me that a man is supposed to look another man, or a woman, in their eyes during a conversation. That’s how you know their true intents and if they are lying or not. This woman is who my mother was preparing me for.

How could I deny this woman? She gave me a feeling I had never felt before. I wanted to be with her more. I asked her to dinner that night. She agreed. After exchanging my number for a hug from her, we both went our separate ways. I watched her climb into her car. Then watched as she turned the corner.

Her with my number, me with the hopes that she would actually put it to use. At 5:30, when my phone rung I immediately became aroused. It was her. Not work. Not one of my many partners. It was her. The woman who I knew would change me forever. At 8 p.m., I was pulling in front of her door and making my way to meet her at the bottom of her stairs. I was surprised she was already ready when I arrived.

“I didn’t think you would call,” I admitted to her once settled into the car.

“You didn’t give me a reason not to,” she responded.

I smiled. I noticed her perfume in the car, but once inside the restaurant where I decided to bring her, I noticed how she dolled herself up and made herself even more attractive than she had been earlier. I did notice more makeup, which I didn’t mind once she made clear that she didn’t wear often. I then made note of how she was dressed. How every single piece went with the next so perfectly. Every item was either a solid dark coloured red or a neutral tone that blended enough with the red that she looked like she only had on red. You’d have to be upclose and personal with her to see the nudes and blacks in her handbag and dress.

I watched the men’s tables we passed on the way to our own, most of the men nodding in approval of me as if I asked for an opinion. I simply snared at them. Letting them know who she belonged to. That she was mine. Their eyes followed her, admiring her beauty. I took it as a compliment. She complimented me with just her presence. I smiled on the inside. This feeling also new to me.

Over dinner we had the most amazing conversation.

“So why are you single,” she stated the question like it was something normal to ask.

“Because I never found anybody that loved me like my mama did,” I responded honestly but immediately felt stupid after saying.

“No one will ever love you like your mama do,” she said, “because a mother’s love is one of a kind.”

After agreeing to that fact and ordering our drinks and dinner I exchanged with her a lot of facts. I learned why she was single. Her father had broken her heart. She was a foolish young girl — as she put it— who just let people in allowing them to abuse her trust. I opened my ears to the story of how her mom died in childbirth with her younger sister who died exactly 2 months later due to complications. I listened to how she couldn’t be hurt again. I listened to how she wanted kids. And a husband. And the fairytale wedding. While listening, I found myself wondering why this beautiful woman had never come across someone who would willingly give her the world. Then I found myself thanking God for allowing me to be blessed with her presence. This was a sign and my chance.

Those words stuck for me. Listening to her back story and how she had been used and abused immediately made me want to protect her. Give her the world. Give her a piece of my own life so that hers would be better. I decided then that this woman would be mine. My life. My wife. I found myself giving her words that I would never allow myself to give any woman as well. I made silent promises to never make her feel the ways I’ve made many women feel before. I had to be true enough to myself to be true to her.

I talked to her about my mother. The onlyest woman I had ever allowed myself to love. Explained to her how my mother took over my heart at a very young age. How my mother conditioned me to believe that I would never be able to correctly love a woman. I also explained to her how I was confused by that fact because I was right now feeling uneasy about how I currently felt. I could feel the butterflies moving in my stomach. I could also see how uncovering so much about each other made the butterflies move for her too. I ordered more wine while she looked over the menu and placed an order for desert. The restaurant was expensive but for this woman a $1,000 bill was worth paying in my eyes.

I told her about the absence I felt for my own father. He was never there. That’s all I’ve ever known about him. I didn’t worry or care too much for him because I didn’t even really know him. I only knew his name. That little piece of information I got from my mother one night when I asked. She told me never to ask of him again, so I didn’t.

Her name, ironically, was Isabella. Bella for short, which I knew to mean beauty in French. Her name definitely fit. I had let go of a lot of my horrid ways for her. A lot of the women I dealt with were now blocked. I didn’t go out as often unless it was with her. I didn’t even have sex on a regular like I was used to. I barely even thought about sex.

We dated for 3 months before she invited me into her home. She decided that I had spent way too much money on taking her out and insisted on cooking. I personally couldn’t deny that I was intrigued to know if she could actually cook. I couldn’t marry a woman who couldn’t cook.

After pairing together my favorite black jeans with a pair of TMC Cali Casuals by Puma and a Puma hoodie, I double checked my appearance in the mirror. She said casual, I just hoped I didn’t downplay it too much with my selections. I had no idea what she had in mind but the fact that she made plans for us made me flutter even more. In the time that I had known her, I had come to love her. A love I thought I would never experience. I’ve seen it on movies, even read it in books and magazines, but never experienced it for myself. I felt amazing.

Driving to her home, many things crossed my mind. Fighting the feelings I had became a war I could no longer win. I had to have her as mine. That much I had known since I met her. I started fantasizing.

I was deep in thought about all our previous experiences together. I didn’t even realize I had already made it to her home. She greeted me on the porch. She held me for a moment in her embrace. I could smell the fragrance from her perfume. It always filled my nose. Made my melt.

Then smelled her cooking. It brought back memories. From my mother. How she used to cook everything at the same time so the fragrances blended into one fragrance that filled every inch of the house. The fragrance so loud, I remember putting my key into the front door after school and smelling dinner cooking. Red beans and rice with fried chicken and cornbread was always my favorite.

I stepped into her home and was suddenly intimidated by the change in the environment. It was pleasant. It was welcoming. It was comforting. I felt warm. I felt the butterflies again. I pulled her into my arms, kissing her.

i found myself needing her. I needed to express myself to her.

“Wait,” she exclaimed, pulling away then running to the kitchen.

had I come on too strong? Had I gone too far? I prepared myself to leave.

“The food can’t burn,” she was making her way back to me. I extended my hand.

she casually took it, stepping into my world. I payed very close attention to every detail of her as she lead me to the couch. She sat me down.

“Would you like to eat first,” she asked me with a bit of concern.

She made me think about my stomach. I hadn’t eaten since lunch but dinner was the furthest thing from my mind right now.

I managed to utter the words “No, I’m fine.”

Her hands lightly explored my chest and stomach while my hands gently made way over her body. She was warm. But not hot like she had a fever. She shook against my touch. I could see goosebumps moving across her skin as her nipples rose through her shirt. I planted light kisses on her neck down to her collarbone. She trembled more.

I had never had a woman tremble to my touch. Never had a woman yearn me like I she was yearning for me now. i looked up at her drunken eyes. She had been drinking wine but I knew she wouldn’t have been drunk off that. She never drank more than 2 glasses.

with her eyes closed, I caressed her cheek. She looked into my eyes, started pulling at my hoodie. I never took my eyes off of her. She was so beautiful.

I stood her up, making my way to my feet as I did, undressing. Both our articles of clothing hitting the floor at the same time as we lost ourselves in a kiss. I picked her up and laid her on the couch. I hovered over her, lost in my thoughts.

words from my mother rang through my head. I could see the concern in Isabella’s face. I kissed her. detoured her from whatever questions she was about to ask.

I entered her. Slowly at first until I was fully inside.

She was wet. She was tight. She moaned and moved with me. I felt her nails dig into my skin. Nothing to separate us, I felt her pussy muscles gripping my penis, pulling me closer to my own victory. I listened to her breathing. Felt her body. Allowed her to tell me what to do with her sounds and movements. I had consumed her.

after that night, I held her in my arms every night. Falling asleep to her and waking up to her made me feel whole. A wholeness I didn’t even feel from my mother.

I invited my mother to my wedding. Even let her know about the arrival of my firstborn. She didn’t show for either. Told me I was no longer her responsibility so she didn’t need to show up for me. Said she had done her job. Expressed to me that she was happy I found love. She gave me an address. Told me I needed to make that visit and talk to that person. Never said who the person was. After talking for an hour, Isabella there to comfort me, my mother ending the call. Leaving me in tears.

I still thought about her. Still called the last number I had on her in hopes that I could at least speak to her again. I knew that I wouldn’t. I had made peace.

I glanced at the woman who currently lays next to me every night. She’s currently pregnant with baby number 2. 6 weeks. She told me over diner last night.

Smiling, I rolled out of bed and prepared for my day. My life now complete.....