J Series: Black Dress

So many men fantasize about what I have in front of me. So many men wait a lifetime to be in the presence of a woman that completes them. They yearn to find someone that understands how they feel without words. Many of them will never have the pleasure of staring at a woman and having a conversation with just eye contact. How unfortunate they are. And here I have you...In front of me...with that black dress on.

The light steam from the bathroom and small ruffles across your chest make you appear as an exotic flower. Its deep blackness and small sparkles resemble a clear night sky. Soft skin escapes from the grasp of its fitting ends. The light to dark ratio bares the softness of a waning gibbous moon. My eyes stare in amazement; riding the wave of your curves hoping to unravel their mysteries. I can't help but recall all of the places you love me to bite. My lips against the center of your left butt cheek, the small of your back above your tailbone, and every tender spot all the way up to your neck. I went from reading my watch, to reading the Times, to reading you.

I knew that we had to leave. I knew it was important that we made it to this event. You would have wanted me to make the responsible choice for the both of us. But another part of me wanted to rip that dress off of you. I could only imagine seeing your soft chess emerge from its abyss as I slid it down your torso. I could imagine the fabric against my fingers. And before I knew it, images rushed to my mind of what happened the night prior. I remembered how your hands and teeth clung to the sheets as I was inside you. I recalled vivid images of you bent over on the bed. The white glaze that you left on me as I exited you. I remembered the silhouette of the moonlight coating that bubbly ass of yours like a sheet. Your plumpness was as attractive as a forbidden fruit. A fruit that knew I would enjoy it. As you pulled up your pantyhose the fabric mocked me. The same curly hair that watched me like an audience, as I was behind you, was twisting past your shoulders like elegant vines. The dress wrapped tightly around your hips like a black ribbon on a present. I had get it off you.

I placed the newspaper on the living room table. My jacket fell from my shoulders as I stood from the couch. The noise of running water in the sink drowns out the noise of my tapping shoes as I moved closer to you. I had this idea of wrapping my hands around your hips as you washed off that coat of mascara that you applied too heavily. From there followed a full, all out, foreplay assault. I was going to come behind you and slowly kiss on your neck. You were going to smile and tell me to stop. As my teeth scratched you lightly you would bite your lip. Then I would jerk you forward a little bit, causing your hands to fall against the sink, which in turn forced you to bend over. The suggestiveness of how I'm touching you would incline you to arch your back. I'd pull that dress up just enough to spark your imagination. To tease you I'd pull out what you were craving. His head would rub slowly against your lips. Then I'd go slow. Slow enough to make those legs shake. Slow enough for you to feel every inch. That was how the initial idea had played out in my head at least. And don't ask me what happened to your panties or pantyhose. I'm a guy; those details don't matter. I came back from my second level of inception, as you turned off the running water.

Even through the haze I could see you staring at me. You knew I was up to something. The light tapping of my shoes gave away my position. You stepped closer to me, vacating the mystique of the bathroom haze. I halted my pace, hoping that you weren't too aware of my intentions. My disloyal eyes told you the truth. Or maybe it was the jacket that lied on the floor behind me like crime scene evidence. You said, "don't even think about it. We're already running late". You were right. I knew you were...but that cute ass smirk you gave me made me take two more steps forward. My arrogance only confirmed your suspicions of my intent. Like the punk you are you said "baby no we have to go". You took two slow steps backwards knowing that I was going to come after you anyway. My bowtie then found its way to the floor like my suit jacket. Arrogantly I looked you in the eye and said, "What are you talking about". A blush came to your face. You loved how much I wanted you. Even your cute blush turned me on. And if all went according to plan I'd see your ass cheeks blushing in a few minutes. You hated how I could turn you on. You hated can't that I was going this here and now. Like you didn't just spend an hour and a half getting ready to leave. But that another part of you, like that other part of me, wanted to feel me inside you. More importantly, you wanted me to pick you up and put him in you. Your eyes dared to disconnect from mine for a second. They slid down towards the zipper in my pants. There they found a bulge that had been staring at you the entire time. Your black dress had caused all this. I could see your heart race at the sight of it. Apparently, it was having the same affect on you as your black dress did on me. As those pretty eyes of yours rolled back towards my face, they found the veins in my hands protruding; the muscles in my arm bulging, and my chest tightened. I could feel the change of warmth in the room as the heat from your legs contributed. Your heartbeat slowed down for a second as if you were in a trance. As your mind ran with a million ideas of what I was going to do to you, your body auto-piloted itself; forcing you to slowly move backward. In your mind you were replaying what we did last night. What I did and how I did it. The smacking sound that your ass made as I jabbed your uterus like a punching bag. You remembered the numbness that substituted for the feeling in your leg as you slipped deeper into orgasm. Had I not been standing in front of you, you might've touched yourself from the rush. Then sent me naked pictures of the fruits of my labor. But since I was there in front you there was no need to settle for your fingers. The sheer remembrance of who I became when I was in you sent a tingling sensation that shot up your thigh. It forced you to say, "baby no we can't do this", even though the lips between your legs salivated. The pitch and softness from your voice matched the pitch and softness of your moans from the prior night. I knew I had you.

I moved closer. With every step your body desired yet resisted the temptation of what we both wanted to happen. Both sets of your lips wanted me to take them. The scent from below your waist pleased my nostrils like warm honey. Somehow it drew my lips towards your neck. They stalked it like a snake sensing a mouse. My hands preyed on your chest and ass. Your body stood directly in front of me like the stubborn bitch it was and dared me to take it. My hands clamped to your hips like a dogs mouth to a bone. I pulled you in, pressing you into the bulge in my paints. I bit into your neck like a savage Viking. And grabbed your ripe ass deep enough to let my fingers slip into your wetness. Kisses and slutty gropes were personified by heavy exhales and moans that didn't make sense to those inexperienced. Your heart raced behind mine. I allowed my teeth to stab into your neck deeper like spurs into a racehorse, speeding up your heartbeat at the aggression. You returned the favor and dug your nails deep into the back of my shoulders, staining my shirt with inklings of blood. The anger, the aggression, the pain, the pleasure, the way your body screamed, "fuck me!” all became one sexual blur. I pinned you against the wall and dared your body to challenge me one more time. Another whiff of honey made me pause for a second... She was calling out to me. Whispering my name in a language that only I could understand. I growled at the intrigue of my mistress. A soft breath left young lungs. You didn't know what I would do next.

That pain and pleasure that I frequently gave your walls was now surging through your veins like a fiend's addiction. It was the only clue that you had, in the knowing my next move. I then took your hand and placed it on my zipper. Giving you a hint at you was going to receive. You bit into your lip. Your hand analyzed the clue as it went slowly up and down my length. I knew what feeling it would do to you. I knew the size of it would give you an idea of how much it could stretch you. I then made a chess move that you didn't see coming. I moved towards your ear and whispered, "Pull it out". It was cute how your head shook no but your hand rubbed him harder. I whispered in your ear sterner the next time. "Pull it out". You shook your head no, and hummed "Hmm umm". I felt the softness of your curls hit my face in your stubbornness. All the while your hand never lost its grip. I took advantage of your hands forgetfulness and made him swell even more in your palm. The new tightness in your hand turned me on even further. I was going to make you take him out.

My teeth sifted through the muscle fibers under your jaw. Small trembles found their way to your inner thighs. Below, my hand was by the back of your dress squeezing your firm ass like a stress ball. I picked you up by it; accidentally raising you into the clock hanging on the wall. It fell into a 6ft free fall. It hit the floor at the same time that my tip rubbed up against your clit. He was angry with me for not pulling him out then and there. Telling me to make the decision for you. It was a tease to the both of us, too intense for your resistance. The sensation buckled your knees. You gripped my shoulders tighter before losing balance. Your nails then clung to the back of my neck. Those soft legs wrapped around my waist like soft wings at my hips. Your arms swung open with your nails fully extended, scratching into the plaster of the walls. Our aggressive movements against the wall made us look like a live painting. I knew I finally had you. But we were too lost in the moment. Like an idiot I forgot to take off your panties and pantyhose. I dropped you to the floor like a bag of groceries.  Your feet hit the floor in a panic. You were eager for me to get your clothes off, eager for me to stop teasing you. I took my watch off and then impaled my fingers between your panties and waist. You leaned back into the wall for balance, assisting me in removing them. We moved in a sexual frenzy stripping each other like a pit crew in a Nascar race. Socks, a shirt, and a bra went flying. He pressed against the zipper in my pants like an angry inmate. I stepped out of them as if they were on fire. The animal hanging from the slit in my boxers aroused you completely. You stood there looking at me not saying a word. I knew what that look in your eye meant. Finally, it was my turn to get you out of that sacred dress. I took the straps down from your shoulders slowly. I wanted to enjoy this moment more than ever. The impression they left gave density to how truly soft you were. The contrast of the black revealed your beautiful skin. I pulled it down further. Knowing that your supple breast would come next. I envied how the dress could move over your erect nipples more elegantly than I could. As the top of the dress approached the peak of your chest, my heart started pounding against my chest. Then as soon as I was about to see a nipple and enjoy the gifts you were giving to me...THE FUCKIN PHONE RANG!!!

Most of the dress was still on your hips and torso making you appear as a black-scaled mermaid. We looked each other in the eye and made a unanimous unspoken decision to not answer the phone. You were almost undressed. I was ten times more interested in you than going to this fucking banquet. Answering the phone was pointless. But then you remembered.... we had somewhere to be. Actually, we should have been there already. You turned back to me, giving me that "baby I'm so sorry look". I replied verbally to your eye and commanded, "don't". You didn't want to get the phone but you knew whom it could've been. My anger jumped a little as you delivered my devastating news. You swiveled your view back to me and said "Baby, It might be Sandra". I immediately thought "Oh shit! Sandra". To be honest I had forgot that Sandra was waiting on us to pick her up. I didn't say it out loud but in that moment I thought "FUCK SANDRA!". My erection toned down by the aggression stayed. The floor felt your sexual frustration as you stomped toward the phone. You were angry that we were interrupted, angry that we were running late, and angry that you even offered to drive Sandra in the first place. You picked up the phone as if it had said something to insult you and you were grabbing it by the neck. Sandra was a new coworker that you had recently made friends with at the office. It was never imperative to save her phone number in your phone so you had just gotten into the habit of seeing the "412" area code that was associated with her. You exhaled heavily then regretfully slid the talk button on your iPhone. In an angry undertone you began pleading to Sandra, "Hey girl. I'm sorry. We're running a little late. We're about to leave right now". Judging by the tone in your voice, the caller had assumed that you had just been into an argument of some sort. The voice at the other end of the phone replied, "Oh hey Jess its me Cynthia".

The look on your face screamed, "FUCK"!  Cynthia, as we now know wasn't Sandra. She was your other coworker that coincidentally had a similar "412" number, that you also never cared to save. She was also the coworker that you purposely don't answer the phone for because she's dramatic and long-winded. Upset from being caught off guard twice, you began stomping toward the couch where your bra and panties landed. I heard you say "Oh hey Cynthia", out loud, but in your head I knew you actually said, "Wwwwwhhhhyyyyy is she calling me!". You would hate me for saying this out loud but you looked cute, as you were angry. Not to mention the way your butt jiggled as you stormed away gave me a few ideas of what to do with it. Somewhere in YOU making up your mind that WE weren't going to do anything you managed to put your straps back on. No big deal I would just take them off again. That fuckin dress brought me back to its sexual trance. The way your hips moved in it like a pendulum. I became hypnotized in your femininity. Then out of nowhere a bright idea hit me. You were upset and I had something hanging from me that could cheer you up (So in a way you could say that you caused this...again). You kneeled behind the couch to retrieve your bra. Then you arose to find me standing at the opposite side of the couch. Once you noticed my pants were still off you knew exactly what I was up to. I saw your lips silently sound out "N O", but I took less concern in what they were saying and was more turned on by the idea of them sucking me off. I took another step forward. Of course you mouthed "NO" again, but there was a smile underneath it like last time. Naturally, I proceeded, bending my way around the armrest of the bed. Initiating our cat and mouse game.

I was impressed with how you actually tried to manage your phone conversation and the child like chase. Cynthia had begun crying within seconds of the talk and you didn't want to feel guilty by just rushing her off the phone. Your niceness was always something that I admired. I had looked forward to kissing you between your legs and thanking you for it. We chased each other around the couch like two 1st graders. You would fake in one direction and as I matched your pace. All the while you held the same fake friend stance in your conversation. You'd smile at how my fingertips grazed pass your ass as you high stepped, and in the same breath you'd say "oh really girl, I'm so sorry to hear that". Cynthia didn't suspect a thing. You on the other hand knew you couldn't keep this up for too long. Eventually, I was going to get you. You wanted me to. Within a few minutes I caught you. Opposed to sticking to our usual route you tried to get a little fancy and hop over the couch. I caught you by the hips partially bent over. Your ass was poking out a little from the dress. Its thickness reminded me of a luscious peach. Quickly, I sprawled behind like a male horse mounting a female horse during mating season. It turned you on how bad I wanted it. And had you not been on the phone you would've let me have it right there and then. I bent you over enough to see your opening. You poked it out a little more to give me a quick taste. My hand then palmed your left cheek like a basketball and I shimmied him inside you like I was picking a door lock with a big pick. Your tightness resisted me at first, but then I could feel her stretch. She accepted me in but was upset at why I didn't take her sooner. To make it up to her then thrusted her harshly; not allowing her moistness to fully lather me. I heard the yelp in your throat as my pelvis crashed into yours. The sensation forced you to jump. At this rate you knew you couldn't hold the conversation without eventually moaning in Cynthia's ear. You reached your left hand back towards me, in an attempt to push me out of you. You realized that was a mistake when I caught it, and pounded you just as hard because of it. The force behind it caused your curls to bounce like soft springs. Accidentally, we lost our balance. We were standing over the back of a couch after all. As we fell in opposite directions I could see how wide you had become as he fell out of you. I was nowhere near finished. You decided to then give in your weight to the couch and simply roll within its comforts. Your legs were shaking slightly so you couldn't just get up and run. Or maybe you simply didn't want to. I then came around from the back of the couch. I looked down at you and then at my boxers. I can't lie and say that I didn't get a slight ego boost at the creamed stain you left on them. Enough was enough. I took them off completely.

The couch was soft like you were. We had done it here a couple of times but for most of them you were bent over. And those sessions never usually ended where they started. You looked sexy just lying there. Your sweat and the disarray of that black dress made it look more like black lingerie at this point. Your model like legs were crossed, hiding that new Brazilian wax that you just got for me. Your curly hair gave you a nice cushion amongst the armrest. It was like I was staring at a woman from my dream. All I had to do was finish what I started.

Kissing the back of your heel lead to kissing your calf. Kissing your calf lead to kissing your inner knee. That in turn led to your inner thigh. We stood still for a moment as I turned my head towards her. My lips faced hers like two lovers who hadn't seen each other. Like a woman watching her favorite show you couldn't take your eyes off of it. You yearned for what I was going to do to it. Cynthia's small voice ran through the background like a 1930's phone operator. I heard the blades of the ceiling fan cutting through the wind. And I heard your heart beating slowly. As I kissed it your heart sped up. I kissed it again and the fan blades went faster. I kissed it harder and Cynthia's voice shrunk even deeper into the background. Sloppy kisses then followed as my heart raced with obsession. Your hand then grabbed into my hair like a saddle, holding back your moans for dear life.

As I nibbled, bit and licked, I felt your hand press me deeper into it. I licked deeper as if I were reaching for the remaining cavity of ice cream in an empty cone. The conversation in your ear became an after thought. Every reply to whatever Cynthia was saying was "uh huh...um hm.. Yea". Then one time Cynthia asked you, "Could you believe that"? And your reply was, "Uh!" Like an asshole I laughed a little. After that, you periodically took the phone away from your face to let out a feint "Um" or "Oh God". It was sexy seeing you on the phone with your eyes closed shut like you were straining during ab crunches. I started enjoying it more and more. Then you controlled the pace, as you rotated your hips with my jaw, it started to feel less like an animalistic release and more like a passionate kiss. I placed my hand on your right breast and began groping it at the same tempo as lips. I opened my eyes to find yours already waiting for them. I arose with your scent coated in my mustache, never letting go of our connection. You moved the phone away from your face, waiting to put your arms around my back. I kissed your breasts on my way up. Your attention then became split. Part of you was enjoying what I was doing to your neck as you waited below. I reached my right hand down to grab the middle of what you wanted. I sat the head in front of her then let my hips sink in. Your gasp sucked an aggressive moan out of me. The phone slipped from your grip during the slowly arched pull outs. Slow deep thrusts were followed by shooting sensations as I continuously hit your cervix. We slipped deeper and deeper into time and each other.

The friendship we had for each other always made the chase between us exciting. But the love that we had for each other elevated it to moments like these. The moment where were more than ourselves. From the outside looking in one would see kissing, lip biting, sucking and hips wearing shaking legs with curled toes. They would hear moans, and names being shouted, and pleas for God. They would see two people who appear to be in love. But inside it was more than that. We were doing more than just making love, we were reminiscing. Our kisses felt like the first all over again. We were making up. Every time I pulled out was like we were saying we were sorry to each other for neglecting the other. Every thrust was like we were coming back after a brief argument. We were supporting each other. She wanted to please me as much as I wanted to please her. We were dancing; going in and out to our own rhythm. Most of all we were growing. Every stroke was better than the last. The more we loved each other the better it was. Our orgasms weren't just physical elevations, they became out of body experiences and spiritual ascensions. We went to a place that wasn't of this world. It was a place that only we knew. We needed each other to get there.

And to think this all started from a black dress and my love for the woman wearing it.

THE END

P.S.
You never hung up the phone. Cynthia heard everything. Naturally, she gave you funny looks at work the next day.

This letter J is Provided By: BubbleGumFace

J Series: April Hughes

I was eleven. She was twenty-eight. These were one of the few times that I had been in a moving vehicle with my brother driving. This was yet another one of the many times that I felt uneasy about him. The household I was raised in had made me this way. We were pseudo urban black Americana family that was thrown a slight twist with my brother's involvement. But I'll touch more on that later. I remember being feeling old enough to not wear my seat belt in the back seat, which felt like more of an accomplishment than anything. My brother didn't have a license. April let him drive the car anyway. I couldn't remember whether it was her father's or her uncle's vehicle. We were on our way to someplace close. My brother's warrants and criminal record didn't allow him the leisure of peaceful living without interactions from police. Sometimes detectives. Some of them had even come to know me by face and name. I guess for once we had some resemblance. The speed he drove at was that of a reckless adult. Maybe he was showing off to himself. Maybe somewhere in his mind he was showing off to me. Who knows? To be honest much of my child hood is a blur so I apologize for not being able to describe more elements of the scenery. But from what I remember in clear vision is unquestionable.

As we hit sixty down a back street, April asked him to slow down. She was braver than I was. I had been hit by the man too often to care for another bout. The fourteen-year age gap between us had really taken a shot at my confidence level in fights. It amazes me now how I was less afraid of us crashing in the car and more afraid of his temper. I had seen car crashes; even been in a few. But I had never seen a car destroy as many lives as he did. At the age of eleven I still had hope for him. He could change I told myself. "He is trying", my mother told herself. There were certain things in my mind that I didn't want to accept him as, because of this hope, this love for him. A similar love for him was in April. Her love was from that of his lover and oldest friend. She begged him to slow down. I remember her screaming at him. What followed was the reality of who my brother was. Seeing is believing, I guess. I had seen my brother raise his hand in attempts to strike my mother. Perhaps my youth didn't allow me to channel that resolve into scenarios of lesser respect. He took his right hand off the wheel and struck April with the back of his fist.

I had seen men fight. I had seen the violence shared through that brotherhood. In that moment it was violated. Her neck snapped in such a manner that I thought she was dead. Necks aren't supposed to move like that. Women aren't supposed to raise their arms up in defense like that. Not against a grown man. Or any man. Shit, he had never even hit me that hard. At least, I don't think so. The incident resembled an animal cruelty commercial. April wasn't defenseless, nor was she less than human, but what happened was disturbing. Fortunately, my father, not our father, had always raised me to be my brother's opposite. I didn't want to do what he did. I didn't think that was acceptable. And from that moment on I had lost hope. April cried a little. But her response of merely shutting up had told me that this had happened before. How many times had he hit her?

We got back to the house a short while later. I went to go play video games. April went with him to go someplace else. I remember hearing the car streak off as I made my way up the stairs. The studio apartment was empty. I think both of my parents were either at work or doing whatever two people that hated each other did. After an exhausting day of going to school and watching a man vs. woman battle arena in a moving vehicle, I just wanted to do normal kid stuff. During that time, videos games were my get away from everything. I was eager to practice in fighting games so I could win against my friends. For an eleven year old, this was a point of pride. But as I picked up the controller I could not get my mind off April. In between my combinations of up, down, back, forward, Kick, I couldn't help but wonder why did she stay? Did she like getting hit? I hated my brother. Did she actually like him? A few nights later she was outside of our house crying and I finally got the chance to ask her.

I don't remember the night, or the weather, but I do remember that she didn't have a jacket on. Before I could expose the pink elephant in the room, I first asked her if she was Ok and offered to get her a napkin. Though, she wasn't my parent, she was still an adult. I understood that children shouldn't ask adults these questions. My prior attempt at trying to be an adult in front of an adult, lead to me getting slapped in the mouth. Don't ask me why I thought I could say the word "bitch" in front of my mother. April said "thank you" for the napkin and began wiping her face off. Now that she was cleaned I could finally ask her the question. "April why do you let him hit you"? I tried to add as much base into my voice as an eleven year old could. I could have hit a better falsetto note than a tenor. To my surprise, April answered in my brother's defense. "I love your bother, Theo. And he's not all bad". I had never heard anyone say that before. "He isn't? When"? I asked. I had tried my hardest to find things to like about my brother for years. How could I have missed something? I waited for her to tell me some new fact that I hadn't yet discovered but I shot down her attempts with faster quips then she could.

April: "He takes me out sometimes".

Me: "Well, he steals from us".

April: "He punched this guy once for talking rudely towards me".

Me: "He tried to punch my mom".

Her: "He.....", In her pause to find an answer, I cut her off before she could get a word in.

Me: "He also tried to fight my dad. He's always drunk. I hate him".

Her eyes had widened enough in her face to shrink the tears forming at the bottom. I wasn't too sure weather she was more surprised that I understood all of these things, or that he really was the man that I knew him as. "Jesus Theo, he tried to fight your dad"? She questioned. "Yup, just the other night", I replied. "Well Theo not all of those things are bad. I smoked with your brother a few times. But I didn't smoke anything laced. He tried to get me to do that shit with him but I wouldn't". At the time I didn't know what she was talking about. It made more sense later when I would catch him in rooms arguing with himself. "I don't like when he hits you. You’re nice. When I get bigger than him I'll hit him back for you and everyone else. Ok"? April smiled at me. My eleven year old ass had treated her better than any man ever had. "You might be able to take him now" She said. "Maybe not upfront. I did pee in his apple juice once" I replied. April laughed hysterically. "Are you serious"? She said. "Hell no, but when I handed him his apple juice I told him that I might've pee'd in it. He laughed but I didn't. The cup was still full by the time he was done eating". April laughed even harder. "You and your brother are nothing alike" she said. "I know. I'm actually smart" I replied. From that point forward we formed a tight friendship out of our mutual distaste for my brother. She would call up and speak on the phone with me for 10 minutes before even speaking with him. Or opposed to crying over him after an argument, her and I would go outside and just laugh at everything. One time we had even placed a bet on what age he would die. Her guess was 40, mine was thirty-two. I lost by the way. Eventually my brother started to get jealous of our friendship. Several times he confronted me on it. All of the confrontations ended with some sort of threat. Then again my brother threatened me for everything. Naturally, the threats only added to our hatred of each other and the closeness between April and I. April finally had someone she could talk to and I was finally able to speak as an adult to an adult. Unlike any of my brother's previous girl friends she would ask about me. She even bought me gifts on Christmas.

As time passed on my brother got worse. The beatings and cheatings had taken their toll on her. Then like all twisted love stories of modern day, April became pregnant. This was her first child and his fourth. I loved April, so I loved the child. April smiled differently after becoming a mother but she also cried differently. Brad was her new everything. Unfortunately, his father wasn't ready to be his father. Nor was he ready to stop putting his hands on April. I grew older to resent him for not only hitting a woman but for now hitting my friend. April made an attempt at living with him. In my youth I had no idea why she would do something so stupid, but after becoming a parent myself I understood that she did it for the sake of her family. The attempt only lasted for a couple months. I didn't know what exactly happened. But I do know that it resulted in April's family turning against her. She eventually lost the apartment. From that point forward her and my nephew slept from place to place. Some of those places being shelters. My brother slept comfortably back at our place. I knew the monster he was. I didn't know the monster he was becoming. Phone arguments between the two turned into threats. Fuck you's turned into "Fuck you and that kid". I didn't know how April was doing. We couldn't speak as much obviously. I was growing up and going through my own issues. And she was dealing with obstacles that I couldn't even fathom. I went through the teenage male rebellions. I'm sure most teenagers rebelled against their families or parents, but instead I was standing up for mine. The continued cycle of my hatred, my brother's violence, my parents fighting, and my mother's continuous forgiveness of my brother, pushed me into going away for college. So I left. Something in me felt a sense of guilt for leaving behind April and Brad.

From there I was given bits and pieces of April's life from my mother. One week April was still in a shelter. The next month April met a guy. Another year April had cancer. A few months later she had beat cancer. We had grown so far apart. The eleven year old and twenty-eight year old were not eleven and twenty-eight anymore. I became an adult. And she didn't need to relate to anyone about my brother. Now April is happily married. My nephew Brad is fifteen or so. He may not have his actual father as a dominant role in his life but he has a great man as a father figure and a pretty cool uncle that still thinks about him.  At a young age April taught me many things about women and life. Our conversations developed my abilities to not only empathized with people but to find commonalities at any angle. She slightly messed up my normal interactions with girls my age though. Regardless, I learned a lot from April. I learned a lot from false love. I learned a lot from the abuse. Many people hear of the horror stories of domestic violence. Unfortunately, other people see it. More importantly children see it. I was lucky enough to have a father that was around to steer me away from becoming like my brother. And I'm sure had my father had better health during my youth, he would have done more to stop my brother. But he wasn't. An untamed son found substance in the abuse of his strength. Then an untamed man found his hands frequently misplaced on women. April if you're reading this, tell Brad his uncle says hi. And just know that I'm bigger than my brother now.

*I know while reading this you might've had the idea that at some point in time April and I slept together. It never happened. Also, as a hidden bonus I'll reveal more information to you about April. I used a picture of K.Michelle to give this post a popular modern face, but April was a white woman. Having a celebrity's face as the cover of something may give the post more appeal. You have no idea how April looks or who she is, so making her picture the cover might have not attracted you into this reading this post. At least not as fast as a picture of K.Michelle would have.