Author Kharisma

A Taste of BitterSweet Fruit

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Updated April 10, 2013
A Taste of BitterSweet Fruit (cover)


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Richmond, VA
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Published Date:
February 02, 2013
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A Taste of BitterSweet Fruit
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United States


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Khaila and D.C. had what most people would call the perfect storybook romance, and passionate sex that would make any couple envious. They were completely like night and day, but complemented each other in every way. After more than two years together they even started having thoughts of marriage. There was only one thing that stood in their way of happiness. Sick obsession! D.C.'s bitter ex., Fefe, absorbed with jealousy and hate, would stop at nothing to end their love affair. Fefe refused to leave D.C. alone, even if it killed her!

Chapter 1 Khaila “Damn, baby! You know we need to argue more often!” I screamed out in ecstasy, pulling D.C.’s long, smooth locs until he moaned painfully. “Naw we don’t! Let go of my head girl. That shit hurts.” He replied while rubbing his sore scalp with his fingertips. “I’m sorry boo, you know how I get when we make love.....” D.C. licked his luscious full lips and told me, “Yeah I know. That’s why we don’t need to argue. It leads to this violence.” My ‘violence’ had interrupted our beautiful rhythm to allow him to massage his wounds. D.C. whispered sweet things in my ear, and gently kissed each lobe. I slowly and passionately stroked on top, all the while screaming his name. He palmed and savored my brown apple bottom, moving it up and down to his cadence. He looked at me as if he could eat every morsel of my sugary caramel. I could tell he was ready to explode. He began to thrust harder and faster to complete his mission. “Slow down baby. Let’s take our time. I’m enjoying every minute of this.” I said, trying to savor another dose of D.C.’s good loving. Everything was so sensual and beautiful. I wish I could have preserved the moment forever. I was completely taken in by the sweet aroma of vanilla-scented candles lingering in the air, as well as the smooth sounds of contemporary jazz in the background. As I licked him from head to toe, I could taste the salt on D.C.’s skin. His sexy, smooth chocolate frame, a sculptured work of art, was perfect in every way. The feel of his warm moist body next to mine was like bathing in smooth buttermilk. I would have to be crazy not to be totally drawn into his presence. I laid softly on D.C.’s chest biting hungrily on his neck. I could tell D.C. wanted to ask me to stop, but it felt so good he couldn’t get the words out. He knew he would pay for the love bites later, with the stinging sensation and purple bruises he would usually endure. He told me over and over, he didn’t like passion marks, but he knew I couldn’t help it. He finally gave in and decided to stop complaining about it. I could tell he loved me every time I saw his face. The love was overflowing from the warmth of his embrace, the width of his broad pearly-white smile, and the intensity of his big brown eyes. He used to tell me all the time he wanted to marry me, but he felt he had nothing to offer a wife. He constantly dwelled on how he had no car, no place of his own, nothing but a high school education, and a “sad excuse” for a job, as he put it. He figured his “sponging” off me needed to stop and soon. D.C. startled me back to reality. “Baby, you alright? You got quiet all of a sudden. It’s not like you to be this quiet.” “Yeah. I was just thinking about how good you feel.” “Uh-huh, whatever girl. I know something’s not right with you.” D.C. knew me like the back of his hand. He knew I was concerned about him, and his inner struggles, which usually involved money. He felt he was useless in my life. I would always tell him everything was going to work out, and I would always be there for him. I loved and respected D.C., even if he did not have much, because he always worked hard to make it. I knew about his grim background, and understood why he struggled so much. His family lived in Bronx, New York, poor and unhappy, until his mother died in 1999 of lung cancer, at the early age of 55. D.C. was very close to his mother. He loved her more than anyone or anything else in the world. His father, who still lived in Brooklyn, New York, had always been in and out of D.C.’s life since the beginning. His parents never married. D.C.’s father always had a couple of girlfriends at a time, which he usually used for money and shelter. He never did stay in one place long. His father was just a “rolling stone” as the Temptations would say. Although D.C. would never admit it aloud, he wanted to have a stable relationship with his father, and it hurt him that his father was barely ever there. His older brother, Vey never was the supportive type and was rarely there for D.C. when he needed him. Needless to say, they were not close emotionally, even living together as roommates for almost five years. My distant thoughts were interrupted again when D.C. remarked, “Everything will be alright as long as you’re here with me, Khai. So stop worrying about me and get back to business woman.” He said jokingly. D.C. flipped me over and began to thrust deeply inside me again. I was enjoying every minute of his good loving, and forgot where my mind had gone for the moment. I quietly moaned, gently biting my bottom lip. Then he hit my spot. “Aw, shit!!!! Keep going, baby! Ok, I’ll deal with you later, I ain’t gonna’ forget what we need to talk about though! Ummmhmmm…..” “After I work yo’ shit out, we going to sleep. A'ight?” D.C. joked, but he really wanted me to forget what I was preoccupied with. Discussing his problems was not his forte’, only if I brought it up would he open up to me. He believed his issues only brought my spirits down. In pure heaven, I told him, “Ummmm, baby! That was good. You really worked me out.” Then I teased him a little, “A'ight, we can go to sleep now. I’m done.” I started laughing out loud. He hadn’t noticed I had my second orgasm while he was talking. “Aw, no you don’t!!! I’mma get mine!!!!! I never did think it was fair you get four/five shots to my one.” “Cause you got it like that boo!” He asked me, “And you don’t?” “You know I do. We can go another round, if you can hang. I’mma work your shit out after this......” “I’m.........out for the….ughhh……count after this......... Awwww, shit!!!!!!! Mmmmmm!” D.C. said barely holding on to consciousness. “I’m out for the count baby ………… goodnight.” He softly rested his head on my chest. I said to myself, goodnight? Huh? “See how you do? Talking about me!” I said giggling. He was good and sleep, before I could say another thing. Then it dawned on me - D.C. had slipped out of consciousness to avoid talking. I guess it was a good thing anyway. I thought about it, why ruin an otherwise pleasurable experience? Eventually I fell asleep myself, very content and satisfied.


A Taste of BitterSweet Fruit (back cover)


Book Reading: Khaila and D.C. get their groove on!

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