Fixin’ Tyrone

THE ERIC INCIDENT

This went against so many of Mia’s rules.

She’d been dating Eric for only two months. It wasn’t necessarily too soon to have sex with him; her rules for sex were based on the quality of dates rather than calendar time, but this particular position was generally taboo for newbies. This was more of a fifth or sixth episode type of thing. Yet on only their
first
sexual encounter, Eric had her bent, exposed and vulnerable.

Yes,
vulnerable
.

A case could be made that all intimate maneuvers put women in positions of inferiority, but Mia knew better. At least with missionary you could
look
at him. You could see his eyes, his expressions, and if you worked it just right, you could see that he wasn’t in very much control at all. Mia has seen eyes cross, tears of joy, inarticulate babbling, and even
drool
. But doggy style is different.

Some women view it as just another facet of their sexual repertoire. Some even prefe
r
it to regular sex, but for Mia, this was something special; something almost sacred. With missionary you can fool yourself into believing a meshing of souls is occurring as the sweat on your bellies mingles, but with doggy style, there’s no holding, no kissing. When you’re on your knees, there’s only raw sex. You’re reminded that men are dogs and you might start to wonder if this makes you his bitch.

Any man who thought he was going to simply fold Mia into whatever position he pleased during their first episode of intimacy had another thing coming.

Yet there they were.

And this wasn’t something you could just
roll
into; it took conscious body placement; willingness on both sides. And Mia had no idea what was going on back there. Eric could be smiling. He could be laughing. He could be rolling his eyes in boredom, or he could have one hand in the air like he was at the rodeo. He could be texting his friends or throwing up gang signs.

Westsiiide!

Even if your man is serious about the encounter, doggy style is not the position for new, gentle lovers who want to develop a spiritual bond. But it felt good. Mia gripped the mattress and lowered her head and moaned into the sheets. Eric wasn’t just back there pounding senselessly. As implausible as it was, Mia felt he was actually
making love
to her. He was like an erotic masseur. Hands were here. There. He rubbed her shoulders. Traced a finger down her spine. He caressed her back, and then her sides. His hands slid across her ribs and settled on her hips. He fondled her ass and then was back to her neck again.

Giving herself to a new partner normally made Mia awkward and unsure of her movements, but there was no hesitance with Eric. She didn’t even feel like she was with a new lover. He touched every spot she wanted touched. He knew when she wanted more or slower or faster. He was as smooth as a ride in a limousine. He was good.

Too good?

Experienced?

A ho?

Mia forced the thoughts from her head.

Why do you always go there? Does there always have to be something wrong? Why not just enjoy the here and now?

So she did.

Mia wasn’t always an audible lovemaker, but since they were already so far past her normal pace of things, what did it matter? She moaned, and this seemed to invigorate Eric. He moaned, too, and their noise together was almost enough to drown out Jagged Edge, but no one drowns out Jagged Edge. On a CD player near the bed, the lead singer crooned about how he felt like he’d walked right out of heaven after losing his girl.

Mia felt like she was walking right
into
heaven. It was much too soon to entertain such thoughts, but sometimes—sometimes it felt so good, and the music was just right, and the motions were so pleasing—sometimes it’s okay to let your heart wander just a little.

Pipe layers like Eric are few and far between.

He slammed in deep, reaching depths unexplored in years, and Mia cried out in pleasure. Thi
s
is what she had been waiting for. This made up for Richard’s pygmy penis, Roland’s stanky drawers, and Colin’s premature ejaculations. Mia didn’t care anymore about this going against her normal pace, and she didn’t care what faces Eric might be making—or whateve
r
els
e
he might be doing back there.

If he
did
scream
Westsiiide!
Mia would twist her fingers, cock her head, and holler out with him—it was
that
good. And the girls at the beauty shop would definitely hear about him tomorrow. Mia would get her unkempt sex-hair fixed with a smile, and she might even get a pedicure if she could straighten out her toes by then.

They climaxed together.

Mia’s legs trembled and she sank slowly until she lay prostrate. Eric followed her down, still inside, and he lay on top of her. His body was warm, and it felt good to feel him all over. He breathed against the back of her head. He lifted her hair and kissed her on the neck. He kissed behind her ear and she hummed. Eric knew where all of her buttons were. He sucked her earlobe and told her she was beautiful. He told her he didn’t think he’d ever felt as good as he did right then. He seemed poised to tell her he loved her, and Mia was almost ready to believe him if he did.

It was that good.

* * *

After a few minutes of snuggling and spooning, he asked her if she wanted to take a shower.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“No. I try not to work on Saturdays,” she said.

“But last week—”

“I know. I had to catch up on a few things. That’s not the norm.”

“So, do you have to leave, or can you stay tonight?”

“My sister’s watching the kids,” Mia said, looking forward to spending the twilight hours with him for the first time. “What about you?” It was after ten, but Eric worked at the post office and kept odd hours. In the two months they’d been dating, Eric had shifts that started as early as 2:00 a.m. and as late as 11:00 p.m.

“No, I’m off tonight,” he said.

Mia smiled.

* * *

Eric ran water for their shower. Mia stood next to the sink and studied the floral design on the shower curtain rather than her own reflection. As with many women, Mia was not 100 percent pleased with her figure, and she felt exposed in those bright lights. She stood five feet, nine inches tall and was thin in the waist with shapely hips. She was dark-skinned, the color of cherry wood, with large eyes and full lips. At only 129 pounds, she knew she was
fine
. She needed only to wear tight jeans to the market to be reminded of this, but her breasts were only an A cup.

Some men considered this a failing. Having never stood nude before him, Mia wasn’t sure which end of the spectrum Eric was on, but he cleared up any confusion with an unrestrained ogle.

He eyed her with a smile like a child on Christmas.

“You look
real
good, Miss Clemmons.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Why?”

“The way you’re looking at me,” she said, but smiled, her hands unconsciously meeting between her legs.

He held his hands to his sides. “You’re not the only one naked.”

“Yeah,” she said, taking in his full physique unabashedly. Eric wasn’t necessarily the most handsome man she’d been with, but she couldn’t find any blatant flaws. He was completely bald. That wasn’t Mia’s thing, but he was also clean-shaven and she did like that. The only hair on his head was his thin eyebrows. He reminded her of Tyson Beckford before he went scruffy.

Eric had almost a hundred pounds on her, but he was six feet, two inches tall. He had broad shoulders and a nice chest. His pecs actually had definition. So many men his size had those downward pointing nipples that gave the impression of man boobs, but Eric’s upper body was nice.

He didn’t have a rippling six-pack, but his stomach was flat, and the further down she gazed, the more impressed Mia was. Small men are quick to remind you that length and width come second to the way you work it—Mia has been with a few who actually proved that adage right—but with Eric she would have the best of both worlds. And as fine as he was, Mia didn’t feel she was extremely lucky to have a stud like Eric naked in his bathroom. On the contrary, she felt she
deserved
a man like this.