Rough Night

It's morning. She stirs from a restless night, hung over from thoughts and imaginings, tired, weak and still horny.

The fire had raged within her all evening and into the night, a longing, yearning to be loved, to be laid down and treated to a session which was all about her....no requirement on her part to give pleasure, just to relax and receive. With no available outlet she worked as much as her rambling mind and hormones would allow; she worked out for an hour in hopes that the exhaustion would undo the burn deep within her loins....it all didn't work.

As she battled self she thought about why it was that she was in this position still. Why does she not have that one guy who meets all her needs...financial, emotional and freaky. Why wasn't she able to have sustained interest in only one man, why she had buried the love she had so deep within, never to be unchained again, why must she fight each day to be a better person only to have her efforts derailed.

The heaviness of the issue took its toll and the usual suspect played in her mind as an outlet for release but......this was not what she wanted. One cannot expect a successful year if one is constantly breaking resolutions aimed at restoring, re engineering oneself. So she prayed for sleep, which came but with unwanted dreams....sigh.

Winning this battle will take great courage and commitment, she thought and whispered another prayer for strength, patience and tolerance for the once a week sex which was not what she was accustomed to but a necessary distraction to restore focus...at least somewhat.

Swinging the Bat

Sex is a sport for which both parties need to prepare. Bad sex, though exhilarating at times, is still bad sex.

With the confinement of safety gear these days, a necessary evil, it becomes even more stressful to engage successfully…and I am completely cognizant and tolerant of that fact. Fit together the usual pressures of sex with a woman who you long to hear your name on her lips, and the act becomes one big mess. But….

Unfortunately I can say loudly, that I have been around the block …just a coupla times…so I have met all sizes, those that kink - because as it grew brotha neva know seh him fi tuck it away in one line inna him draws and decide instead to twist the poor thing to lodge its 4 inches at rest to the left or right- those short but sometimes so very sweet; those 9 inches long and 2 inches across, thick, big, rigid and ready fi tek on any charge; and those in between. I think therefore I have been exposed also to the failure of the equipment to maintain its solid integrity. Erectile Dysfunction is not as uncommon as you think.

While I accept that there also might be a correlation between my high performance standards and poor blood circulation, I must implore all men to tell a bitch bout dem things deh before you make her hot and wet and there’s no action to follow di bag a mout…before she starts rehearsing in her head the “It happens sometimes, don’t worry” speech, or if you really like him, you fake it like its your third time with him and he has finally figured out how to fuck you just right and satisfied all your desires.

There is nothing worse than waiting a week to feel his dick so that the vibe will be more intense and arriving late but just in time for the clouds to open up a steady drizzle of rain, the perfect background for what you were feeling, and watching him, shirtless, pecs jumping, arms slowly pumping, abs bulging, run to organize entrance through the gate….stirring a wild emotion deep within the fibre of your being….that day when you watched the news to not give the appearance of eagerness, when you saw lust darken his eyes and he trapped you in an unanticipated kiss….a long, extended, wet di pussy kiss…..and you can’t wait to feel the total bliss as he instructs you to take off your dress while he watches your hard nipples burst forth from its lacy support…..not then.

Don’t wait until my body is over-stimulated by the anticipation and any touch from your hands as you stand like a lion above and lift my head from sucking your dick, readying me for a full onslaught of pleasurable pain, only to find moments of hardness, insufficient to support any constructive roll out of plans…..that’s not the time to share this horrible truth…….that’s just mean and wicked.

Get your shit sorted before yuh put 'argument' to a woman.

Viagra, Cialis, Enzyte, Levithra, Zion roots, Magnum, Front End Lifter, G-Force, all the other medication people clutter my junk mail box with are there for a purpose. Get that shit sorted out, or tell me before hand….I may make a few jokes, but it’s all in good fun and will in no way detract from my interest in you. In fact it’s the perfect thing for me to expose some of my skill and stand triumphantly in the end when I raise the dead through focused energy on making love to you.

Stop smoking, get your Diabetes or Hypertension under control…simple things, get your shit sorted…cause it pisses the hell out of me when a man cannot perform. I have no use for a limp-dicked man…too many things out deh fi sort dem thing deh out before yuh bring foolishness to me.

Resolution Broken

His unyielding moan brought me down to rest in the feel of him on me. How can a man have such dominion over a body. A question without an answer, it just is and this is how it should be.

He reaches into my soul like a root from the tree of life and he connects with me, and only me, for the night….he is my Yang, my slice of paradise and he knows.

With stealth he breaks down my walls and moves in and out of me to his liking. I shuffle, he dips, I wiggle, he sets firm hands on my ass and directs the flow. Sweet force is never to be under-rated.

Though I know his toxic influence, his venom, I cannot distract myself entirely. How weak a being can be to the feel of one whose nectar thickens the blood, sets the pulse racing and engorges the clit. He restores focus in a way no scientist could test. How does one remain free from the bitter parts of this sweet?

His total surrender at times…no games, no aspect of him locked away from my sight, my touch, my tongue….it colours my cheeks, for he rests under me with such ease that I am intoxicated by his trust in me to please him completely…from the tips of his toes to both heads. I can’t help but be drunk with this power.

To be the woman who breaks him over and over again with words and actions is no small feat. He expects so much from my hands, nipples, my lips and body atop his. He knows its my pleasure to serve so he remains as still as possible to feed my ego, to enjoy the mere moments when all things flow together and prompt a low deep groan from his throat. Being on top of a man is possibly the closest one gets to Eldorado…dragging your tongue along his arms, looking down at his response to your assault, watching him shudder, delving into his mouth with passion untold…..rubbing a sweet, fat, wet pussy over his chest and groin, and he takes it all…magnificently. How can I not enjoy this man?

How can I not enjoy when he rivets me in place and drives home stroke after stroke of unrelenting pleasure? How could I not enjoy this sample of his strength and do my damnedest not to make him see the effects on me, so that the moment will be replayed with obscene frequency, until I give to him that which he sought, and he allows me after to lick away every trace of my release.

Why Can’t I stay away? Because he knows what pleases me.

Changing Course.....Still

Normally I'm too self absorbed to notice much of anything else happening in the world, but I take note of an unfolding story here. People seem concerned about the fact that the new Governor General will be a Seventh Day Adventist.

At first I must admit that the thought struck me, cause the Nation's Business would have to be done between 6:00pm on Saturday and 6:00pm on Friday of each week. I was cross until I reflected on what the GG really does in a week. I couldn't think of more that twice a year when he actually performs some function to justify his salary..the National Awards and Honours stuff in August and October, and the occasional broadcast, which you and I know could be taped at any golf course/country club across the country. Other than these things, what else does he really do?

So I thought I would play my part in putting peoples minds to rest. The Seventh day GG will have ample time to do the Nation's bidding. In fact, its a good thing he has his other interests, it seems one could end up twiddling ones thumps on tax payers' monies in the circumstances.

Sir Kenneth was no great GG, not even good really. He was a chore to listen to and really ought not to have survived in the post for as long as he did. Farewell loyal son of this soil and I wish him every success in his future endeavours, but a part of me is thankful that I can return to listening to the special broadcasts from the GG again.

Sleeping with the Enemy

Singledom steals away from unsuspecting females the comfort, the unadulterated pleasure of resting in the arms of a man she loves or shares some similar deep emotion.

I remember days when you looked forward to rainy nights and cold fronts or just any day because you knew it would result in not only sex, but that after part too - when his hands would gently caress every inch of your body.

Him pulling you in to feel your warmth against the length o f his body and the hardness it awakens to rest against your skin. Touching his lips to the nape of your neck and shoulders, running his fingers over your breasts and down your stomach…..That moment when you melt into him as his fingers trail a burning path over your hips, your thighs, your ass, and the playful rest they find in the moisture between your legs. The moment when his lips and hands uncover nerve endings which you never knew existed to make your body writhe in utter celebration of the blessing good lovemaking skill is. The moment when you surrender fully to him and he discerns that he needs nothing more than a touch, to reap multiple eruptions…..

Yes, Singledom removes this joy. For one is unable to rest with every him you meet and impatience for outcums results in takeover strategies being executed with precision care to ensure goal achievement before disillusion, distraction sets in.

Rushed?…Possibly….Satisfying?….Maybe. Stupid?…almost always.

Conundrum

I have finally felt what sex feels like in 2009. Unfortunately the experience left a lot to be desired. I can't say that I am surprised cause emotionless sex is usually quite unfulfilling....I guess I just thought it would be better this time around.

He's a nice enough guy, strong, built, almost as much of a tease as I am, all the elements seemed to fit together and bwoy was I hard up. But somehow, he didn't really touch me. Its one of those things I guess.

He intrigued me for a bit, we share the same earth day, but I had realised from last year that he was an easy target, my interest waned then but I still went ahead. He stroked my hand so gently as we shared his bed afterwards that I felt stifled by my lack of emotion. I bid him goodbye...not even with a kiss...I didn't even fake a good response when he told me he wouldn't let me go....it was like it never happened for me...I treated him like a F--k....what is wrong with me? I made myself better by thinking that he probably thought I was just a f--k too so he got what he deserved.

It didn't feel the way it was supposed to, there was no 'afterglow' like when my Boogie and I got together. I guess the heart and p---y wants what it wants and nothing can fill that void.

A Sexy Man

Though I subscribe to the school of thought that “Sexiness” is 90% mental and 10% physical, that ten percent helps the case…a lot.

While the sweet smile, hint of vulnerability buried deep, deep, down and a keen sense of humour are elements which appeal to my higher mind, the one that wishes to save poor people in my country if not the world, the body of a man I find particularly sexy when he’s a man whose elbows can’t meet because of the size of his chest.

The hard biceps -or those at an advanced stage-, the wing-like Lats, hulking deltoids and trapezius, the curve of his ass as his jeans hangs too low (one whispers a prayer of thanks everyday to the woman/man who created jockey-type underpants, it leaves so little to the imagination), the way his hair disappears down abs, in or coming in, to rest atop a bush where his cut hips meet, thighs that can hold you firmly in place, or provides leverage as you position and bounce and ride, calves that take seriously the responsibility of stabilizing the body in motion, all are set on fire in the act of sex…

The image he is, provokes a throbbing need in me to feel him on me, to run my hands all over his body, to explore all his contours, to test his strength, to match and hopefully stand up to his powerful strokes, to watch him work me……. Ergo, this physical manifestation is ‘Sexy nuh #@$%^-claaught’.