Steam'd

Pushing me backward, Derrick forced me onto the same ledge I'd inhabited before, nudging me until I was arranged to his liking. I felt like the virgin sacrifice on an Aztec alter, a feeling only heightened by the otherworldliness of the steam-filled room. Still Derrick stroked and caressed me, nipped and kissed me, each contact of his body on mine driving me higher and higher into a whirlwind of pure sensation. From our countless conversations and commiserations, Derrick knew well what I liked and didn't like, what my turn-ons were and how best to use them. Having never before touched me in a sexual manner, this man knew me better than I knew myself, and he used every bit of that knowledge to stake his claim on me, to brand me as his.

I gasped in shocked arousal when I felt my best friend's warm, wet tongue slip into the folds of my pussy, licking up the juices that his touch was causing to pour out of me. Flicking my flushed, swollen skin, he zeroed in on my clit and attacked it ruthlessly. His fingers slipped inside my hot, churning wetness, touching me deep, setting of shockwaves of pleasure. After keeping me on edge like that for a few minutes, he added another finger, touching me everywhere, pleasuring each hole. With a cry of pure abandon, I freed my wrists from his grip, shoved his face into me and rode out the fury of my orgasm against the stroke of his tongue and nip of his teeth, sobbing his name over and over.

Grabbing my hips in his big, capable hands, he slid me down the ledge and onto his hard cock, giving me no time to adjust, slamming completely in on the first stroke, stretching me to fit him and claiming possession of me in that first, strong move. I started cumming as he entered me, and by the time he bottomed out, I was in full-fledged orgasm, writhing and screaming, twisting and bucking, pulling him to me for a kiss and pushing him away so I could breathe. He held still for a moment or two, trying to give me time to adjust to him, but we were to consumed by raw passion for it to work. Animalistic, we growled, nipped, scratched and howled our pleasure. He slammed into me, pounding me, battering me—and I raised my hips up, opening myself wide, offering him more, screeching at him to take me, use me, fuck me.

A storm raged inside that little room, and Derrick and I were happily caught up in its center. So intense was our first crest that we didn't even slow down to acknowledge the eruption of his boiling seed into the fertile valleys of my womb—instead we kept fucking, albeit a little smoother, a little more compassionately. I lost track of the times I orgasmed, or the number of positions we used. My whole being centered on Derrick, and the unsatisfied little niggling I'd always felt with other men surrendered itself to my black lover as I accepted the rightness of our being together.

As our pulses slowed and we took the edge off our hunger, we settled against each other, kissing, nuzzling, smiling, whispering our amazement at what we'd found, and how it had come to be. Derrick's strokes grew longer, more languid, a gentle lovemaking that claimed me as surely as had his possession earlier. When we finally pulled away and went to the locker rooms, it was almost an agony to be parted for so long. I kept looking in the mirror as I got dressed, amazed at the new woman who looked back at me, a woman filled with the shine of self-confidence and the shimmer of love. Throwing my stuff in my bag, I blew a kiss at this other me, and hurried out the door, anxious to be back in the arms of the man who was my best friend, lover, confidante and savior, all rolled into one. When I walked out of the locker room and into Derrick's open arms, I didn't know where we would end up – but I knew that any price would be worth it.

**

I look back on that day now, and smile. It had started out as a day from hell, and ended up being the most important night of my life. Derrick and I are one of what seems to be a dying breed—a couple who has stayed together through it all, and never strayed from our love for one another. That's not to say that life has been all peaches and cream – it hasn't. We've had our ups and down, lost jobs, money problems, things like that. But we've survived, and even flourished, because of our devotion to each other. We've been married 17 years, and I still rub his neck when he's had a hard day, setting aside a special time for each other that no one else is allowed to intrude on. Our kids respect this special time as well, and now that they're older, they like to set up dates for us, sending us out on the town and giggling when we come back home, obviously drunk on each other's love. They've heard the story over and over again of how Derrick and I discovered we were meant to be more than friends, and although they don't know the details of that unforgettable encounter, they see the look that passes between their father and I, and know that sometimes the best things in life are the chances taken in the name of love.