Love Knows No Color Pt. 30

I had gotten to the middle verses when I looked up to see Shavonda watching me with a smile on her face.

"Soon you will see me

'Cause I'll be all around you

But where I come from I can't tell

But don't be alarmed by my fields and my forests

They're here for only you to share"

"'Cause here there's lot of room for doing

The things you've always been denied

So look and gather all you want to

There's no one here to stop you trying"

After I had finished, she came over to me and sat in my lap. "That song was you," she said softly with tears in her eyes.

"Parts of it are. Parts of it were my past before you came along." I replied.

"Didn't you share your fields and forests with me?" she responded. "And didn't we explore the things I'd always wanted to do? It's good to see you back. How was it?"

"Well, I'm a bit stiff and out of practice, but I think I am well enough to play again."

We sat for a while, discussing our music, pondering how so much of what we loved had been recorded before we were born. Not that we had anything against new music. We had a lot of it as well. But it was the older tunes, the ones that we'd each discovered by listening to our parents records and CDs, that had really sparked our mutual interest in music.

"You know when I was a kid, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to be Aretha or Grace Slick," Shavonda said. "I used to be in the junior choir at school."

"And we used to go out to bluegrass concerts held in barns," I replied. "Pap Waite would take me and Kenny and Calvin mostly, but the rest of the family sometimes went. He even taught me to play the upright bass."

It was funny. Even though we'd come from completely different worlds we bridged the gap musically and spiritually. It was amazing how well our lives had meshed, driven by our need for each other.

As spring approached, I came to appreciate Shavonda's love of birds even more. During the cold weather, I'd often followed her on her rounds as she refilled the bird feeders in the yard. Not much came to them in the winter, other than the hordes of sputzies that wintered in Pittsburgh, and the pigeons. Shavonda chased the pigeons away when she could, and the feeders were designed so they couldn't use them.

"I don't like them," Shavonda told me when I asked. "They're bullies. They will chase the other birds away and eat all the seed if I let them. So, I discourage them from coming here. There's plenty of food for them somewhere else."

As I healed, and the weather started to slowly warm, I began to help her more and more. She kept the seed in a bucket by the back door, since the bags they came in were heavy. Buckets were too, but they had handles to make carrying them easier, along with a scoop.

Filling the feeders was a two-handed job. Most had roofs that flipped up or were otherwise removeable. Once the roof was out of the way, you filled up the interior with seed. With the roof closed, the seed flowed out holes in the bottoms of the side onto a bottom platform, where small birds could land and peck at it to their heart's content. The low height of the walls, and the roof overhang prevented larger birds and squirrels from landing there, though they tried. Being elevated, either on a pole or suspended from a tree branch made it difficult for neighborhood cats to harass the birds we lured. In short, we provided a safe, reliable source of food year-round.

February brought the first robins. I excitedly pointe them out to Shavonda one morning. She grinned at me. I GOT it. I understood her fascination now. And she knew it. Robins weren't just another bird. They were an early sign of spring. Much like the way back home, we'd walk the creek beds and wet areas looking for the first shoots of skunk cabbage or look for the first buds to appear on the barren tree branches. Spring was coming! And with it, all the outdoor activities the clod weather had put on hold.

I'd forgotten about Shavonda's vow to "get me" after our bondage session. But Shavonda hadn't. She never said another word, though she'd look at me from time to time with an odd smile. No, she bided her time until I least expected it, then she made her move.

As we had done with the first pregnancy, we took photos weekly of the changes in her body. This time we'd have a complete record, as we'd started immediately after we found out she was carrying. As with the first one, we took two sets of photos, one clothed, one nude. The nude photos often resulted in us making slow sensual love. I couldn't help it. Her gradually swelling body only made me want her more.

We'd fallen asleep in each other's arms after one such photo shoot, at about 15 weeks. I don't know what I was dreaming about, but I felt myself being rolled under my back. In my semi-conscious state, I felt my arms being lifted above my head, but it didn't register until I heard the click of the first handcuff on my wrist. I was instantly awake as she secured my other wrist.

"Oh, you're awake," Shavonda said in a sultry tone. "I told you payback was a bitch. You're about to meet her." I struggled against my restraints. "You ain't going anywhere. Just be a good boy. Don't make me have to cuff your feet too."

I looked at the naked goddess before me. Somewhere, she'd found a burgundy wig that gave her an odd, exotic look. The straight red hair hung in bangs across her forehead, while the rest draped just below her shoulders, with the ends curled under. It contrasted nicely with her dark skin, and I found myself highly aroused in anticipation of what was to come. Her breasts jiggled nicely as she moved, gently swaying seductively above a belly that had started to swell from the new life within. And that ass! Shavonda KNEW what that ass did to me, and as she moved around the room, she made sure to swing her hips knowing she had my full attention.

She bent over as she rummaged in the drawers of the dresser, Hips swaying in time to the music softly playing in the background. Knowing full well that I also had a view of her dangling breasts in the mirror as she took her time. My manhood had swollen to its full length, standing upright like a flagpole. After 3 years of almost constant companionship, she STILL had this effect on me.

Shavonda found what she wanted, then turned to slowly wind her way over to the nightstand. There she placed a long blue vibrator. "It ain't as big as you, but it'll do what I need." Walking back to the foot of the bed, she turned and slithered up between my legs and over my body. She stopped above me, dangling her pendulous breasts in my face. I bent my head to take a swollen nipple between my lips, but she pulled back. "No, you don't," she said. She leaned forward so her breasts dangled on either side of my head, then did a little shimmy so they slapped the sides of my face.

"You like that?" she purred. "You like being slapped around by my big black titties? I bet you do. I KNOW you, Jason. You want to grab them and suck on my nipples. You want to squeeze them and play with them. But you can't, can you?"

She slid her way back down my body, dragging her nipples down my chest. Pausing just above my erection, teased it with her breasts barely touching it as she continued her taunt. "Oh, I know how to torture you, Jason. You're not hard to figure out. You need to touch me. It's what you live for. But you're not in control. I am."

Sitting up, she slid her way slowly up my body, hips spread wide straddling me. Making sure I felt her lips, soaked with her arousal, sliding over my dick, then up my belly, finally raising above my head just out of reach. "See how wet you make me?" She dipped her fingers between her lips, sensually rubbing her clit just out of reach of my tongue.

"Mmm hmm," Shavonda continued her taunt. "Right now, you want to grab my ass and bury your head in my pussy. You need to lick and suck all my sweet juices, don't you? Maybe stick a finger or two inside and massage my g spot? But you can't. And it's driving you crazy. It's driving me crazy too, but I can do something about it."

Shavonda reached over and opened the drawer of the nightstand, removing the vibrator she kept there. We didn't use it much, but when we did the results were explosive. This time was no exception. With a click, she turned the vibrator on, working the now buzzing toy over her lips and clit for a minute. Her body shuddered at the contact and she emitted a low, sensual moan as she slipped the toy inside.

"Yeah, buy," she whispered as she worked the vibrator in and out of her deep hole, "You wish it was your dick and not a toy, don't you? Poor boy ain't getting no action. All you can do is watch." Shavonda was enjoying my helplessness as much as I was enjoying watching her play. But it was frustrating not to be able to join in. I wanted to bury my head between her dark legs and lick up all her juices. I longed to feel her legs forcefully close around my head as she came under my unrelenting oral attack. And I longed for the feel of her pushing my head from her sweet spot when she could no longer stand the pleasure.

Instead, all I could do is watch as she left the toy buried deep inside herself, while her fingers strummed her clit. I watched her contract around the vibrator in sheer bliss as she went over the edge, face contorted in a silent scream. And just to rub it in, as she removed the toy, she wiped the tip across my upper lip, knowing that the scent of her juices would drive me crazy.

I watched as she fell on the bed next to me, panting, out of breath. Not saying a word. Enjoying the way her breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Seeing her initiate deep breaths she often used to gain control after a strenuous round of sex. And knowing that her pussy walls were contracting wildly in search of a part of me that hadn't entered her.

When she finally calmed down, she resumed her taunt, climbing back atop me and rubbing her slick folds over my rock-hard member. "Yeah, you want summa dis, don't you?" Shavonda slid her pussy lips along my pole as she continued, "Mmmm, that toy sure felt good. See I don't need you to get off." Her face was just above mine as she purposely dragged her erect nipples across my chest as she slid. But Thor had other ideas. As she slid back down, the head poked at her opening, pushing but not going inside. And as she slid along my length, he did it again, but this time with a pop I was inside her.

"Ohhh," Shavonda shuddered at the contact. "You're a bad boy. I didn't give you permission to do that. I should punish you. But I can't. You feel too good." And just like that, her resolve melted. Before I knew it, she was riding me, breasts bouncing wildly as I met her movements with thrusts of my own. Needless to say, after all the buildup and teasing I wasn't going to last if she didn't slow down. And she wasn't going to let up for a minute.

I erupted deep inside her as she rode, spewing my pent-up load into her clutching womb. But Shavonda wasn't done. She continued to ride as though I hadn't just come in her. "You bad boy," she said huskily. "I felt that. I didn't say you could nut just yet." She continued to ride as I slowly softened inside her, orgasming with a low moan. Her insides contracted around me as she collapsed on my chest. We were both out of breath, and I lay there under her, wanting to hold her but unable because of the cuffs.

After she calmed down, Shavonda released me from the handcuffs. "Hold me," she said. "Just hold me." We fell asleep in each other's arms.

Awakening in the predawn stillness, we made gentle love in the darkness. No pressure for release, just a slow, gentle rocking that stimulated us both. Afterward, laying there in the first light, we talked about what we'd just done.

"You were a good sport," Shavonda said. "I really enjoyed what we did."

"Me too," I replied. "You were dominant without being humiliating."

"Why would I want to humiliate you, boo? Even for fun?" Her reply surprised me. "You are my world. I mean, it's nice to be in control and everything. But in the end, you're mine. You gladly do what I want you to. There's no need to force you to do anything."

"And when you were dominant," she continued, "I noticed you didn't try to humiliate me either. Don't think I didn't notice. You could have done anything to me, and you didn't. That's why I trust you."

"I'm just not interested in that," I said. "I admit it is a turn on to see you helplessly tied up. But in the end, I can't do anything to you that you don't want me to. I love you too much."

Our foray into bondage was a success. We'd both learned we had no desire to hurt the other, even playfully. We decided that given the internal restraints we both had, we'd continue with the bondage sessions when the mood struck. After all, they added spice to our love life. But we'd never do anything to damage our relationship.

But as fate would have it, this would be the last bondage session until after the baby came. Shavonda was now showing, her belly protruding more each week. And this pregnancy would prove to be more difficult than the first.

To be continued...