I flipped her, then licked her left nipple, then her right. I pulled back. I knew her nipples were super sensitive. I began sucking one nipple and not the other. I moved my hand down her curves and rested it on her waist. I moved my hand between her thighs and she moaned. I pushed my thickest finger inside and her pussy walls locked around it tightly and thumped rhythmically. When I began kissing her she was breathing hard but still tried to launch a sneak attack and flip me with her feet.
We wrestled. In moments I was deep inside of her, pushing and thrashing and the feeling was so extreme. We were moving, and feeling and changing positions and postures. Warmer than warm, our emotions were heavy like that and only our breathing was heavier.
Our mutual deep attraction, our mutual deep admiration, our mutual deep love, loyalty, and deep affection. She was quiet now, still shaking from her own eruption. She turned on her side to face me. So I faced her, watching her slide her slim finger in the sheen of my sweat. I kissed her, just pushed my lips against hers. Her now relaxed nipples turned into Kalamata olives. In less than one second we were both swelling again and she leapt at me. Her hips spread in my lap and I touched her up until I was doing sit-ups between her thighs.
Chiasa, my second wife, was no longer the unknowing virgin I had first met. She was swinging those hips, completely comfortable with our naked bodies. She craved that friction and would have an outburst when her feeling reached an unbearable high. Her voice echoed in my mostly empty apartment where she and I needed to be alone to get wild and dive all the way into our thing.
Athletic and competitive, she has endurance. Yet in her eyes I saw a complete surrendering to me, from a sixteen-years-young feline fighter unaccustomed to surrendering. Konichi is her American mare, a horse her father bought her, which she left behind in Japan after I married her. She laughed a little too, then stopped smiling. The air thickened and the room fell silent, even with the music from the streets thumping outside our closed windows.
Kids Explain How "A Moment Of Silence" Helps Them
We both knew she meant it. And for words that strong and heavy, silence was my only response. Nor had I ever, or would I ever, or could I ever compare my love for Umma to my love for any other human. Still, her magnetic confession moved me and I was making love to her now with an even deeper feeling than fucking.
So deep it felt like a high-pitched sound. So high it could cause all eardrums to pop, then bleed. A feeling so meaningful it could push life into existence and hurl the two lovers ten years into the future within seconds. I tugged her clitoris and made her cum so hard she gasped and exhaled some sounds I had only ever heard in the jungle of South Sudan, word. Her seventeenth birthday was one week away, but she and I were celebrating it in the only time we had available to be alone.
Even the boom of the bass that shook the speakers on the outdoor sound system shut down. The turntable needle got stuck and could only repeat a piece of the beat. For a split second it seemed that even the fire-filled brilliant sun had blacked out. Unique, her unusualness attracted me.
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Twelve clocks, ten phone cards, and a huge lighted spinning globe were the first purchases of my second wife, Chiasa Hiyoku Brown, as we moved into our new home in the borough of Queens, state of New York. I just took her to the stores where I knew the items she wanted to buy could be purchased, then watched as she walked around choosing carefully and intently. Of course I carried her choices, her boxes and bags, for her. She accumulated enough for me to go out and hail a cab and have the driver pop the trunk. In her first-floor bedroom in our house, she lined her triple-A battery-operated clocks on the shelf after setting each one.
They were all the same model, but she set each of them to a different time. So I knew then how she felt about her books. I set the globe up on the book stand she built, plugged it in, and it glowed, colorfully outlining most of the territories on Earth. Helping her with these little things was a small task for me, yet like the moon, she glowed with a grateful smile. On a short stack of same-sized encyclopedias sat her baby-blue-colored phone. Slim and feminine, it was curved nicely, with glow-in-the-dark push buttons.
It will be the end of the night here in New York.
It will be eleven in the morning over in Tokyo. It will be five a. It will be three a. But he will tell me which country he is in. Then I can check these clocks to know exactly what time it is where Daddy is stationed. I just looked at her, attracted to her passion, yet very aware of her anxious and deep love for her six-foot-eight black-skinned African-American brute of a father, a man of fifty faces who only showed his daughter one, and she believed that was the only face he had.
She spoke about him with great affection as though he was her teddy bear, and her anchor, and her hero. So he filled the absence of his presence in her life with presents. Expensive gifts given on each of her birthdays and on selected Christian holidays. He gifted her anything she asked him for with only one rule. He would come on his schedule, unannounced and by his own choice.
A Moment of Silence
The presents were gifts that no young husband who, although he is a hard worker and is steadily building his business, could match. Saying she loved me more than him. My presence had outdistanced his presents. And our intimacy was an area where he naturally could never go. And our closeness was sealed. The metal tapping against the metal door unlocked time. No one was supposed to knock on my project apartment door. Even when my family lived here, no one did.
And for the time that Chiasa and I had been coming here, no one else came, and no one else was invited.
Moment of silence
She licked my lips and her tongue fucking delighted me. Just as I moved to go in her, a voice within me ordered me to get up. Chiasa leapt up a fourth of a second after me and began collecting her clothes from the living room floor. I nodded for her to go into my bedroom. I stepped into my basketball shorts, then my jeans.
Easing up the metal shutter of the peephole, I saw hazel eyes, black lashes, and a red hijab. It was Sudana, a sixteen-years-young Sudanese girl who lives way out in the Bronx, but now she was standing alone on the other side of my door, in the dark, dangerous corridor of my Brooklyn project. I never gave her this address, and she had never, ever been here before. I felt a bad feeling as I quickly unlocked and yanked open the door. Actually, I wanted her to disappear, leave, so I could get back to my wife.
I knew I had to be cautious though, and careful and courteous. Sudana and my mother are close. I owed her. I saw her eyes moving over my chest, admiring my body.
A Moment of Silence
Since silence contains no statements or assumptions concerning beliefs and requires no understanding of language to interpret, it is more easily accepted and used than a spoken prayer or observance when persons of different religious and cultural backgrounds participate together. In the colonial period Pennsylvania Quakers and Lenape Native Americans worshiped silently together on several occasions, yet neither group thought that this implied that they had altered their traditional belief system in doing so.
Over time, the effectiveness of Quaker-style silence for non-sectarian and non-controversial public observances has led to its almost universal use in the English-speaking world as well as other plural societies. This is also the case within many institutions where diverse groups are expected to participate but not necessarily share beliefs such as in government, schools, businesses and the military.
The numerical value of moment of silence in Chaldean Numerology is: 6. The numerical value of moment of silence in Pythagorean Numerology is: 6.
The Moment of Silence
Cedartown Police Chief Jamie Newsome :. We'll come over here, have a moment of silence , say a prayer for the families, then add their pictures and names. Eddie Bernice Johnson :. This is a reminder that relations between law enforcement and the communities they serve remain extremely tense, i ask not just for a moment of silence but also for firm action.
We need to bring meaningful legislation to the floor that will help bridge the divide between law enforcement and communities. The act of evil that occurred in Santa Fe has deeply touched the core of who we are as Texans, in the midst of such tragedy, we pray for the victims and those mourning in Santa Fe, while we work to ensure swift and meaningful action to protect our students in schools across our state. I ask all Texans to join in holding a moment of silence tomorrow morning to remember the victims, their families, and first responders of the attack that took place at Santa Fe High School.
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But usually when we find a solution that works, it turns out to be something very simple.
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