Black

A short black woman I met on FetLife. Her profile said domme, but cuckoldry was what truly moved her, and that was what I was looking for at the time. Still, I felt, and still feel, that she wanted more than I was willing to give. She talked about us travelling together and rehearsed an intimacy that, from where I stood, had no room inside her marriage. The discomfort grew with every message, because I feared walking into a ground that wasn’t ours alone. I had just come out of the relationship with Luana, and the weight of it still followed me around.

I met P. Liz on Tinder, at a time when I was looking for exactly what her profile announced: no-strings sex, no beating around the bush. She was black, a PhD student, and liked to smoke a joint before anything else. Her beauty was the kind that disarms you, and beneath that innocent face was a body that knew what it wanted. Her blowjob was delicious, and she had a tattoo on her back I loved to kiss. She loved sitting on my face, and between us there was no fixed role: I dominated and was dominated, we did everything. We had several encounters, all of them good. And then, out of nowhere, she drifted away in a way that still feels bizarre to me today.