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Authors: Yusuf Blanton

The Shards of Serenity (4 page)

BOOK: The Shards of Serenity
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They say first impressions make or break a relationship. I’ve always said they basically don’t matter, since it’s the next couple of encounters that prove whether that person was full of shit or not. In the case of Serenity Davis, it seemed I had nothing to worry about.

After great conversation throughout the day and a delicious seafood dinner served stage-side a mind-blowing soul concert; things truly heated up when we returned to Serenity’s apartment. I’d pulled up there with the chivalrous intention of dropping her off with a kiss, but it seemed she had more in mind.

“Markus, before I say anything else, please know I’m not a slut; and I haven’t been with anyone except my husband in four years. That being said, would you like to come inside?”

I followed her up a flight of stairs to a small studio apartment that hosted newly-purchased discount furniture, department store clothes still on the hanger, and poster reproductions of famous paintings from various time periods. She offered me tap water and dried fruit in a bag as we sat and talked for hours about the idiosyncrasies of life, the expression of poetry versus prose, and the sequence of events that led us to our respective places in life. Before I knew it, it was two in the morning, and tried to excuse myself to head home and sleep.

“You’ll be embarrassed to know that I sleep on a futon,” she said, as she flipped out the mattress from where we’d been sitting. “But, I’d love to fall asleep in your arms tonight. I’ve been fighting the feelings like a defiant child, because they’re so new, fast, and overwhelming. But, I love this connection we’re developing, Markus. You make me feel safe. I haven’t felt safe in a very long time,” she said, with tears beginning to dampen her eyes.

“Of course I’ll stay,” I replied. “I’ll stay with you anywhere, anytime as long as you feel safe.”

I laid down as comfortably as I could, while an inch of memory foam kept the hard metal springs from rupturing my back. Serenity followed suit, and laid her head on my chest. Despite the uncomfortable furniture, tight space, and faint smell of pizza wafting from the kitchen trash can; I slept better than I had in a long time. A sense of security had finally arrived.




After a night that climaxed in beautiful conversation, the easing of my worries, and an undeniable chemistry with a man that captivated my interest; I woke up the next morning having a full blown anxiety attack.

As I opened my eyes and felt Markus’ soft arms around me, I couldn’t help but reflect to the last man I felt; Mitchell. I remembered the abuse, the oppression, and the feeling of being trapped. The deceit of knowing he’d spent the previous night with another woman, and the entrapment of wondering if I’d ever get out alive. I knew I was in another coast of the country, with a person that was everything he wasn’t. But, my thoughts rattled at a rapid pace I couldn’t control, and my breath shortened to a rhythm that was physically useless. I began crying, shaking, whimpering, and rocking helplessly.

As Markus woke up and figured out what was going on, he rubbed my back, recited sweet words, and rushed to get me a glass of water.

“Serenity, are you okay?” he questioned, as if he’d never experienced the level of pain I felt myself drowning in.

“I can’t…I can’t…” I replied, as I struggled to string together a sentence.

“I’m calling an ambulance!” he proclaimed, as he yanked his cell phone out of his pocket aggressively.

“No, Markus, don’t!” I cried. “I’m just…having flashbacks of my ex-husband. I know he’s states away, but it feels like he’s somewhere in this apartment. Whether he’s crouching behind a toilet or standing outside the window - I can’t say. But, I just feel him! I know that’s insane.”

“Serenity, that not insane. That man put you through Hell, and it makes sense that it’s going to take time to truly heal from that. However, I can guarantee he’s nowhere to be found. Follow me,” he insisted.

As I walked around my small apartment with Markus, I watched him pull back every drawer, door, and crevice to show me that my anxiety had truly trumped my sense of reality again. Mitchell was nowhere to be found; and I was safer than I’d ever been. I realized at that moment that Markus Glenn truly was sincere about every word he had uttered and that there was at least one person out there who maintained a serious interest in my well-being. I realized it may have been a minimal or even psychotic gesture to any third partner witnessing us. But, it was at that moment that I truly felt loved for the first time in my life.


Our next month flowed together similarly as I learned to mentally give myself to the man who bent over backwards to extend his compassion, tenderness, and joy each day. Things finally made the transition from emotional to physical one October evening, when color-changing leaves blew in the air effortlessly, and a calm breeze maintained a perfect temperature. I was riding in his passenger seat, tapping my toes to his music that I’d learned to appreciate as we headed to his apartment for the very first time.

“I love you, Markus,” I said happily, with a grin extending halfway up to my eyes.

“I love you too, Serenity,” he responded. I always admired the way his words and tone always matched mine; never trying to one-up me, while never falling short.

“Isn’t it crazy what a few weeks can do to two people?”

“It’s not about the quantity of time, Serenity, it’s about the quality. I’ve had months that almost killed me. Others that substantially changed my career, for better or worse. This last one has made my life better, and for that, I love you.”

As usual, I found myself speechless around him. And so I put my sunglasses on, kept my smile from being too obvious, and I turned his favorite song up to high volume. Life was beautiful as we knew it.

When we parked the car, Markus led me up a cobblestone flight of stairs to his humble abode. Upon opening the door, I realized this was anything but spontaneous, as pre-arranged R&B music pulsated through a surround speaker system, and a dim trail of lighting seductively led us to his bedroom. He cracked the door smoothly; as my senses were flooded with coconut candles, art deco furniture, and a nightstand full of cocoa-shea lotions and name-brand oils. He unbuttoned his silky button-down shirt, loosened his jeans, and calmly laid back into his zebra-print bed; ready to receive me.

Without thought, I leaned into him and offered the most thorough kiss of my life; our souls singing symphonies while our tongues swirled together in harmony. He wrapped his hand around my pony-tailed locks, untying them as if we'd made love a million times before. I took his other hand and guided it over my chest, as he explored my meaty D-cup breasts for the first time. With swift motions he undressed me, and moved his mouth to the pink of my nipples. With every breath he exhaled, I felt sensations of lust. With every move of his tongue, I felt sensations of love. It took four years for my ex to destroy me, and only thirty days for this new man to rebuild me completely.

"Let's get a little more comfortable," he suggested, as he unbuttoned my pants and slid them down carefully. There was something about his gentle approach that made me feel almost as safe as it did awakened. I was raised to believe sex was sinful, and nurtured to believe it was aggressive and one-sided. Without even penetrating me, Markus had made it clear our sex would only be of the most consensual, pleasurable, and respectful demeanor. As he struggled to get my jeans over the hump of my ass, I decided to help him, as I felt my clitoris tingle and a wetness accumulate as if it were my first time ever.

"You just lay back, and let me see everything," I uttered, eager to move our ceremony into everything it could be. As I slid off my panties and peeled off my socks, I kept my eyes fixated on the unveiling of his manhood. Before I knew it, there were nine inches of masculine sexuality facing me - thick, erect, and throbbing. It was almost as if each inch had a voice of its own; his foreskin saying "taste me," the middle saying "fuck me," and the base saying "take it all the way down." Unable to take another second of anticipation, I placed my mouth over his manhood and began to consummate our forever.











At the end of their life, most people look back and claim that there were a few key moments that defined their experience on Earth. If I were to prematurely make that conclusion; I'd say my top three include publishing my first book, getting off drugs, and making love to Serenity Davis.

Our first time together was the definition of "impeccable." The topic of sex had been sprinkled through our conversation for the past week, to a point that I knew it was less a question of "if" and more so "when" and "where." We were on the way to my place after a refreshing early dinner downtown, and I'd already made arrangements for Simone to be elsewhere, and the apartment to be ready for all that would commence.

After walking into a cinematic setting of candles, soft music, incense, and oils; I led Serenity to my bedroom and we quickly started kissing. Before I knew it: words were exchanged, clothes were off, and her tender, wet mouth was revolving around my manhood.

"Yes, baby," I bellowed, feeling sensations I found myself wildly unaccustomed to. It was as though my heedless sexual track record meant nothing, at a moment where I laid stark naked and vulnerable to a legitimate empress who'd managed to captivate my heart well before my erection. Each second had meaning, each word had sincerity, and each movement felt like a grandiose progression down a path I was enticed by, but had never traveled down before.

"Take me," she uttered, as she gently eased off my cock, laid back, and presented her pussy as a beautiful, blossomed flower, wet with morning dew. I lunged my face into her lap, and began kissing the sides of her thighs in anticipation of what was to come. When she began squirming for more - I softly licked up her clitoris one time, visibly causing shivers down her spine and moans out of her mouth.

"Eat this pussy!" she bellowed, with the strained desperation of a mother in labor. Without argument, I began lapping my tongue over her most sensitive parts; picking up the pace slowly and driving her haywire. "Yes!" she shouted, as the intensity picked up and I began penetrating her with my finger simultaneously. Before she knew it, I had two fingers in her pussy, a third up her ass, and my other hand caressing her nipple; while I slurped her savagely.

"You like that?" I mumbled, in between releasing spit over her clitoris, and sucking it back up heedlessly. Before she could respond, I began rubbing it over with my thumb as I pointed my tongue like a dart and orally fucked her.

"What the fuck is happening to me?!" she screamed, as the eroticism of the moment swallowed her in cascading tides. Before I could answer: I grabbed my penis, lubed it with the remaining saliva in my mouth, and slid it into her love canal blissfully.

As our penetration began to pick up its own rolling, mind-numbing pace; I reached around to her backside, and cupped her ass cheeks for leverage and life. Before we knew it, the all-foam mattress was moving, the headboard was smacking against the wall, and moans were exhaled at decibels previously unheard by man.

Being afraid of monotony, I pulled my cock out, rubbed it one time, and commanded her to flip onto all fours. "Fuck me like a dog!" she shrieked in one breath, with the tones of a barbarian. "I love you, Markus!" she exclaimed in the next, as the intensity of our moment hit levels unprecedented. This was love, this was lust, this was infatuation, this was obsession, and this was perfection. As my left hand wrapped around and massaged her clitoris, I reached around with my right, and grabbed oil to drizzle over her back. Before we knew it, I was giving her a full-blown back massage while fucking her pussy, and bringing on more vaginal orgasms than a beach wedding decorated in diamonds, rubies, and freedom.               Fearing our moment would come to a premature end, I pulled out once again; this time grabbing her by the thighs, telling her to grab my torso, and standing up carefully. As the confusion of "what was next" settled, I began throwing her up and down on my cock with Greek God bravado, as I stood firm with all the strength I could muster.

"Oh my God!" she wailed, "Markus, cum in me, please! I need to feel your juice!"

Without another thought, I carefully laid her down on the bed, my manhood still inside her; and we fucked with the speed of a million sports cars. Within a meager two minutes, I was releasing the biggest cum load of my life all inside her sweet, sugary, walls of love. I looked into her eyes with a dominant silence, as sweat dripped from our brows, and we tried to catch our individual breaths vigorously.

"Markus - what the fuck? Is that what having sex with you is like? I just came about ten times," she uttered, in between deep pants and sighs of pleasure.

"That was the greatest round of my life," I answered, as I began slowly pulling myself out of her.

"No! Leave it in, Markus. I'm on birth control, so you don't have to worry about pregnancy. But, please, leave it in."

I laid down beside her and after words of romantic philosophy, mental intimacy, and excitement; we began to close our eyes. This was the commencement of love, the expression of closeness, and the ceremony of our togetherness. Never had I imagined loving someone that came from the type of religious or experiential background she did; yet with each day that passed I realized that didn’t matter. I felt myself growing accustomed to the monogamy and spiritual satisfaction she offered, and I wondered how I‘d ever lived without it before.

As my mind wound down before retiring to complete slumber, I questioned what possibly could follow, with the most optimism I'd ever felt.

BOOK: The Shards of Serenity
13.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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