Page 87 of Lost In London

“Stop running.” Low moans brushed across my nipples as he teased me. Lifting on the balls of my feet, I leaned down lower, putting my breasts right in line for his mouth to take them captive. Biting my lips hard I lifted my hips and moved up and down until my rhythm became steady. “That’s it, London. Take it, baby.”

Nothing was more pleasing and a turn on than a man talking me through my ride through euphoria and telling me what to do. Because as my beautiful Sis Jill Scott said - if you can tell me what to do, you can tell me what to do. But if you can't tell me what to do ...you CAN'T tell me what to do.

And that’s on Mary and all her little lambs.

I was a woman on a mission. Operation knock Quincey out so I could go on my way. We’ve been sexing each other like rabbits and I learned quickly what positions, tips, and tricks worked in my favor when I needed him to spew his seeds in record timing. Our shared favorite was me riding him. Riding his tip. Squeezing my muscles until his toes curled. Milking him for all he was worth and that’s exactly what I did.

Thighs burning and hips moving, I rode him past exertion. “Quincey.” I slumped against his chest knocked over by the force of my orgasm.

“Shit, London. Fuck.” Spreading my booty cheeks from east to west, he raised his legs and plowed into me from below. Sweat lining his top lip and the edge of his fresh hair cut.

That’s what started all of this.

Him coming back looking mighty delicious with a haircut and his gym clothes. Those Nike compression shorts weren’t compressing anything under his gym shorts. That print wanted my undivided attention and I gave it.

I needed to start taking vitamins or something. My stamina compared to his was comical. That man could go for hours and I tapped out after round two.

“Qu, I’m… I’m…” Gasping with my mouth in a wide O, I looked down at my lover in awe and disbelief that I once again saw the moon and stars as I released.

Sitting up, meshing our sweaty chests, he moved slowly in me and grunted his release. Licking and kissing all over my chest like it was the formula needed to spear him to ecstasy. “Shit, baby.”

Yesterday I texted Aziza and asked if it was normal to have sex multiple times a day everyday. She replied back with a picture of her birth control and the caption I take these faithfully for a reason. I’m 55 with my tubes untied and haven’t gone through menopause. I love my husband but I’m not carrying another one of his nappy headed children.

Knowing that they were thirty some odd years in the marriage game relaxed and gave me hope. The intimacy never dies if you don’t allow it to. It’s an everyday effort given to choose you and your marriage. You controlled if and when the honeymoon phase ended. And to think that you got to experience different honeymoon phases as you evolved as a couple and people.

I loved that.

I had so much to look forward to with Quincey and I was so excited.

“Carry me to the shower.” Out of breath, I wrapped my weak limbs around his body and delivered a series of lazy kisses along his neck.

“A’ight now, London. Luna will be waiting all day if you keep it up.” Feeling his muscle jump inside of me I played back unfairly and squeezed my walls. “I can get you dirty and clean at the same time, baby.”

This has been our norm for the last week and a half. After I had my breakdown moment, spending two days with Cassian and the kids, I’ve been with Quincey since. Brought a big ass bag of clothes and been up under him not once hearing a complaint. We cooked together. Tending to his garden was my favorite. His way of teaching was one of a kind and I understand why he’s earned the teacher of the year consecutively for four years straight.

What I enjoyed most was spoiling him as much as he spoiled me. Giving him flowers, real flowers. Covering him with his guidance and learning what made him happy. Learning how to love in completion. He adored and cherished me effortlessly and I gave it back ten fold.

Tai and Melly weren’t happy that I haven’t been home like I used to. Though I made sure to be there at night to tuck them in for bed and be there every morning so we could do our routine before I dropped them off to summer camp. That wasn’t enough. Those two were deep in their feelings. Quincey even earned the nickname Lolo Thief. All of the back and forth was exhausting but it was well worth it. Never did I complain because I felt extremely blessed to have my life shift the way it has.

“You ready?” Freshly showered and wearing a pair of jeans that were unbuttoned and socks, he stood behind me ready for our new routine.

Releasing a shaky breath, I finished filling in my brows and shook my head. “No.” I whispered in truth.

Mirror work was hard and intimidating.

Hooking his arm around my waist and pulling me back until I rested comfortably against his chest, he used his other hand to hold mine. Eyes locked in with mine through the mirror, he spoke. “Breathe with me.”

There was so much intimacy shared when you shared the same breath as your lover. When you eye gazed, inhaling and exhaling at the same time. Every time we did it’s like my trust in him increased. The first time we did it I cried the entire time. Feeling and seeing his emotions for me without him having to speak them shook my entire soul.

“I am loving, loved, and lovable.” I cleared my throat. “I am loved and supported. I am the best version of myself just as I am. I am unconditionally worthy. I give myself grace and am gentle with myself as I transition everyday.”

Quincey challenged me to create my own affirmations. It was tough. All of it. At night I said affirmations when I showered. I loved those though. One, I didn’t have to look in a mirror. Two, I felt myself connecting with my woman prowess as I said self-love affirmations over my body. In the morning he and I did the hardest part together - look in the mirror.

Up until recently I loathed looking in the mirror. I mastered how to do my makeup and check my appearance without having to really look at myself. I hated it because of what I saw. Filthy, slutty, drama queen, a brat, and a user were just a few of things I saw when I looked at reflection, so I trained my mind to not look. My super observant lover picked up on it and helped me change the narrative. Helped me find my confidence and strengthen my self-esteem.

To have him do them with me. Standing behind me and holding me while I learned to love myself was something I’ve yet to find the words for. All I know is that I thanked God daily for Quincey because he’s everything I didn’t know I needed.

“I love you, baby.” My reward for finishing always came in the form of him kissing me until my knees became weak. The best gift ever.

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