Viv was a tough cookie with serious curves – a wonder woman or Amazon with crazy magical powers.
As an adolescent growing up in the 70’s, I was obsessed with hard rock and heavy metal music along with illustrator Frank Frazetta’s vision of the perfect woman. The epic 2005 album cover for band Wolfmother, featuring his work, showed a buxom beauty, perhaps a nymph, basically wearing some gauze, mist and vapor. My new lover, with her thick thighs and strong glutes reminded me of that original fantasy girl.
I have to admit, I was pretty nervous when I first met her. When I mistakenly asked about sex and her ex husband of twenty years, she snarled. “He wasn’t my equal sexually, hopefully you will be.” I was floored. The bulge in my pants went from 90 to zero in seconds, but we continued our date. She was gorgeous and genuine. All red lipstick, flowing dark hair and killer blue eyes.
I courted her diligently. We went to sophisticated indie films, tapas and exquisite adventures in obscure locations. She would always indulge me in amazing makeout sessions on the doorstep and eventually, the couch and in the bedroom with only her panties on. Oh how I wanted her, but never sensed a green light.
On date five, Viv suggested my garden apartment in Brooklyn. I had challenged her to accompaniments for steaks on the grill. She loved the test and arrived with seasoned butters, weird salad greens and a secret elixir for our drinks.
That evening I finally sealed the deal. After a cook-off, Viv was submissive and succumbed as my strong yet gentle hands fondled her breasts and beyond. She finally understood that it was not a competition, though Viv loved a great challenge.
The sex was extraordinarily epic. I hadn’t taken my blue pill that night, but everything worked like we were god and goddess. I was finally man enough to conquer her, yet stay her protector.
Viv owned her sexuality. She was a truly powerful female who made sure she only accepted what she wanted. She moved with an energy that was almost primal. Womanhood just oozed from her pores. She was in control of her body, moving gracefully as if on autopilot.
We weren’t together long, but what I learned from her about sex would last a lifetime.
Intension and communication can be so weird. I could have stayed intimately connected with Viv, but I was intimidated. Every woman wants the man to feel her and tell her how beautiful she is; to kiss her, touch her and hold her. But after I had been with this erotic creature, I felt humbled.
She wasn’t just a goddess with magical power over men or admired for her beauty. She was so much more than that. She was undeniably raw and human. She embodied everything I ever wanted in a woman, however I didn’t have the courage to stay with her.
She was unapologetic and magical in her juiciness, sparking from inside. She shared herself freely and openly, almost too much woman for me to handle. Maybe if I were younger or more confident in my maleness.
Viv was intense, present, equally strong and submissive. She was my equal on land, but she had conquered me in bed.
Image: detail of Frank Frazetta’s “Moon Maid.”
