Moist Manuka

Wide mirrored-closet doors were positioned directly across from her large queen-sized bed. She walked over to it. She felt the plush carpet massage the bottom of her feet. She started to rub her body with oil mixed of coconut, sweet almond and peppermint oils with a hint of lavender. Sticky, hot August greeted her with a breezy night wind through her window. During the day, the sun best friended her skin. Yellowish-red undertones meshed underneath her mocha skin, which highlighted her cheekbones and arched eyebrows. Her lips were pink, plump, and full. She sparked a few candles to light up the bedroom.

She took a long time trying to accept that she had a different look. She was not the Beauty Queen at Homecoming, she never won Best Looking or Best Dressed in high school, and she always managed to struggle with fitting in with her peers. She was the tallest of her class, standing at six-feet, and always kept great care of her skin to avoid fracturing her brown skin.

She noticed how white girls around school took group trips to the tanning salon and given more attention when they returned to school. The boys were fond of their light eyes and seemingly-darker complexion, but never acknowledged her dark eyes and matching dark skin. How could this girl look so orange and tan, sporting a similar toned complexion, but yet receive more kindness than me? This was a question that crossed her mind each day through her high school years. When she went into college, she read more about her African culture, her family coming from different parts of Africa and settling in the South, West, and North of the Americas, willingly and unwillingly. Each day she grew more in love with her mind, her body and spirit with each affirmation she spoke. Every time she spoke to men, she made sure they understood she was more than a piece of meat, or a piece of chocolate, but a woman with a great mind and a voice to match.

She watched her figure in the mirror; taking note of her favorite body parts. She appreciated the large dark brown areolas around her nipples, the curves of her hips and the mound of her pussy freckled with hair. She rubbed oil across her stomach, up to her breasts, and massaged her nipples until they hardened into little raisins. She gave special oily attention to the rivers of stretch marks on her sides and breasts. The candle flames flickered shadows on her walls and she looked in the mirror; the red glow of the flames brightened her auburn complexion and shimmered the honey blonde in her frizzy hair.  

Caressing herself gently and smoothly with the oil, she breathed in the relaxing aroma of lavender and felt her mind drift away. She imagined her body being adored; she felt her arousal grow in the pit of her belly and moisten in between her fingers. Her thighs, shapely and long, supported her upper body of large breasts and pudgy stomach.

She imagined various hands of black, brown and gold touching all her long legs, neck, and shoulders. She pictured lips kissing between her thighs and tasting her sweet knowledge. She pressed her fingers inside, rocked her hips forward, and tilted her head back. Pivoting forward, she continued to glide back and forth on her fingers, feeling her honey drip on her fingers and she rubbed her budding clit tenderly and eagerly. Her toes curled and moans escaped her lips. The lavender scent danced around her nose as she exhaled. She bit down on her lips and looked up to watch her reflection in the mirror through transfixed and sultry eyes. She felt her orgasm bubbling on top of her fingers and she felt a ripple wave through her body. Panting and relaxed, she tasted her honey before blowing out the candles to relish in the nightly stillness.

Black women are stunning. We are full of powerful wisdom, love, and soul. Love yourself first and the others will follow right behind you.


Prev post: How to Appreciate Her Sexy Wear: Lingerie EditionNext post: Options: Dating Game Rules for Multiple Players and Few Rules


  • Liz

    June 9, 2017 at 12:46 PM

    Damn... I have to get a mirror in my room now.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: