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Just then, the woman who was the leader of the community arrived, and I invited her to join us, too. It was the best cover I could conjure in case my instincts were way off base.
My room was in a large circular building made of wood with a spiked thatched roof. The windows had no screens or glass. The building was divided into many rooms. The walls did not reach the roof. Gaguyo's room was on the opposite side of the circular building from mine. This was not his home. He was only staying there to protect me from my fear of bats and other creatures that roam in the night.
There weren't any chairs in the room, so we sat on my bed. The phone perched on my thighs. We watched Denzel Washington in The Equalizer. This was a big treat for Gaguyo. They don't have televisions or cable. I've seen this movie a half dozen times. Instead of watching, I'm running through my mind — I've got him alone in my room. How do I move this to the next level? I didn't have a clue. The movie ended, and nothing happened. I quickly suggested another movie, Equalizer 2. It was not as good. I could see his attention wavering. The chief woman came by, and Gaguyo left and went to his room. I had not been able to close the deal!
I lay there in the dark, aroused and frustrated and ashamed that I possessed zero skills for communicating my desire to a man or for interesting him in engaging with me. Is there a school that teaches this? Is it too late for me to enroll?
I lay in my bed not sleeping. Suddenly, I heard a fluttering sound over my head. Was it a bat? Argghhhh. Gaguyo heard it too, and he called out to me. He asked if I was scared. I said yes. I truly was. I invited him back to watch another movie. He climbed over me on the wall side of the bed. We were both fully clothed. I can't remember what movie I put on. But Gaguyo put his arm behind me. Gasp! I leaned my head on his shoulder. A shiver ran through me.
We watched the movie for a long time; my frustration was rising. He squeezed my hand. Ahh! I snuggled closer. The phone fell over. He squeezed my shoulders. I rolled over to let him spoon me — my favorite position. No matter. This is the most action I've had in years, and I'm having it the way I want it.
He put his other arm around my belly and kissed behind my ear and neck. I gasped and rolled over to meet his mouth. And we were groping, kissing, squeezing. His hands between my legs, I was soaking wet. At my age, wet down there is inconceivable. The thought of a penis attempting to enter was like imagining a night in CECOT prison. He wasn't making any moves to do any other things with his mouth, but I was reveling in the kissing. His tongue. His touch made me bloom like the True Rose of Jericho.
He wasn't very large. Or very hard. Or very skilled. But I was very wet, and I rode him to the Promised Land. When I was spent, I rolled off, and we slept with me spooned in his arms. I lay awake trying to figure this out. It had been glorious. There was no age in the dark between the sheets. Body shapes and sizes didn't matter while we were giving one another pleasure. I was astonished. But I couldn't imagine it ever working like this in America. Sex in the West is more a function of our thoughts about who we are sleeping with rather than an instinctual experience of human nature fulfilling the ends to which it was designed: pleasure from every orifice.
I had never had sex where some story or conversation had not preceded the deed. Gaguyo and I didn't talk about anything. It was all action, glorious action. He was young, so not a skilled lover. But the passion fulfilled my needs.
I'm sixty-three, overweight, balding, with whiskers that would be a full beard if left unwaxed or shaved. I've never had a waist or an ass. I have zero skill at seduction. Yet within this culture, where fashion and makeup and external beauty are not the norm, I was as attractive and worthy of a sexual experience as anyone. And that is a gift all of us women in the West could greatly benefit from experiencing.
Who or what orchestrated it? When you got it, was it you? Was it him? Should we Western women be more assertive?
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