A man is a special being. He has pride of place with the Lord and is the rock on which a family is built. While I love the career woman thing, I firmly believe that this was not what God intended.
A woman is a man's companion through life as he unfolds the great plan for his life. She is not his equal and should never be made to feel like she is. A bredren of mine, with one of the brightest smiles you can imagine, summed it up in a sentence......"A woman expresses herself in a most natural kind of way when she is free of all restraints, constraints and dependencies".
At first the profundity of the statement did not resonate with me, but eventually...as I played with the notion, I had to agree, a woman is at her best when she is unencumbered by constraints. So I write this for those men who are willing to listen and adjust.....
If he stands as my King, I have no hesitation in bowing to his power and presence and servicing his every whim
If he stands as my King, I'll submit to his will and words only second to God's
My King has as his focus my complete happiness, sexual, social, spiritual and more...
For my King I will devote my life and energy to raising him up to the highest of heights and kissing his feet. My body would be his to forever keep, to explore, to even trade if he so desires.....I would be his completely.
For my King, I would rise in the morning relieve him of the tent he pitched in the night, make breakfast and kiss him on the lips before heading off to work....and for his Queen I have no doubt he would do the same.
For this man I would leave the safety of my built up security and have full faith that he will take charge......for this man I would be homey, lover and friend. For this man, I would turn a blind eye to his wayward ways knowing that he and I will keep count of his daliances and I would be given leave to repay him one day.....Balance is key
If he stands as my King there would be no place I would rather be, but in his castle, in his arms and in his heart.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Timeout
At the risk of inspiring Google to fill my page with ads about mental institutions, I have to comment on one bit of current news.
I woke this morning to news of a quasi massive protest in Kabul. 300 women strong, decided they had to STAND UP for what's right, decent, human....they were protesting a new law which would see them bound to fucking their husbands 4 times per week. THE HORROR.
What's interesting is that this dastardly move by the government infringes, they say, on a woman's right (seemingly) to not fuck her husband if she doesn't want to. Critical planks of female liberation have been eroded by this act....women now think it legalizes rape in marriage...Que?
Ladies, one should never let a Government have to resort to detrmining your wifely duties.....your husband, and for heathens like myself, your man, deserves to be fucked....you deserve to be fucked.
Sex is a gift from God, mainly for procreation but damn, we have found some other quite palatable uses.....I for one wouldn't want a world without it. So what if you have to put out 4 times for the week. Its a shame that these are the matters occupying our minds when children are hungry in the streets and nations are rising up against nations.....men and women have lost their identity, and if legalisation is what it will take to set the record straight, then I am all for it.
I woke this morning to news of a quasi massive protest in Kabul. 300 women strong, decided they had to STAND UP for what's right, decent, human....they were protesting a new law which would see them bound to fucking their husbands 4 times per week. THE HORROR.
What's interesting is that this dastardly move by the government infringes, they say, on a woman's right (seemingly) to not fuck her husband if she doesn't want to. Critical planks of female liberation have been eroded by this act....women now think it legalizes rape in marriage...Que?
Ladies, one should never let a Government have to resort to detrmining your wifely duties.....your husband, and for heathens like myself, your man, deserves to be fucked....you deserve to be fucked.
Sex is a gift from God, mainly for procreation but damn, we have found some other quite palatable uses.....I for one wouldn't want a world without it. So what if you have to put out 4 times for the week. Its a shame that these are the matters occupying our minds when children are hungry in the streets and nations are rising up against nations.....men and women have lost their identity, and if legalisation is what it will take to set the record straight, then I am all for it.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Dreams of a J'can dawta
I have often times dreamt of a bedroom with a mirror on the ceiling and ground to floor mirrors on the wall adjacent to the bed....ahh the fun of watching his body in motion fucking me and me him, that would be an absolute pleasure.
I would see my body respond to his touch, I would see him run his tongue up the line from my ass to my neck...I would see my back arch in reflex response. I would watch as his hands encircle my breasts from behind, spreading long skillful fingers across the mounds of flesh.....I would see the gentle rise of my nipples under his sweet force.
My line of vision would not be interrupted as he lays me down to explore my body. With my eyes lifted to the sky I could watch his reflection make love to a woman, tracing her curves with his finger tips, placing kisses on her stomach and inner thighs, coaxing her to open wide, it is then that I would be most grateful, for I would get light headed at the sight of his head bobbing up and down between my legs, the ripple of teh muscles in his back, one hand clutching my thigh, the other buried deep between our bodies, and I would get the opportunity to see myself cum.....yes, to watch him suck me would be worth the investment.
I would see my body respond to his touch, I would see him run his tongue up the line from my ass to my neck...I would see my back arch in reflex response. I would watch as his hands encircle my breasts from behind, spreading long skillful fingers across the mounds of flesh.....I would see the gentle rise of my nipples under his sweet force.
My line of vision would not be interrupted as he lays me down to explore my body. With my eyes lifted to the sky I could watch his reflection make love to a woman, tracing her curves with his finger tips, placing kisses on her stomach and inner thighs, coaxing her to open wide, it is then that I would be most grateful, for I would get light headed at the sight of his head bobbing up and down between my legs, the ripple of teh muscles in his back, one hand clutching my thigh, the other buried deep between our bodies, and I would get the opportunity to see myself cum.....yes, to watch him suck me would be worth the investment.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Simple Life
Having too much choice is at times not as fantastic as one would’ve thought. There always comes a time when all and sundry do not live up to your preconceived expectations of availability. So further options are explored, afterall, a bird cannot fly on one wing….balance is required sooo…..
In the darkness of the night his golden brown skin glowed…alive with the anticipation of the task at hand and the activities to follow. As he smiled and made his approach I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect of the occasion on me.
“What can I do for you this evening?” His question was a simple one but I felt anxiety as I pondered what I really wanted.
“A medium conch soup and a bottle of water” I responded and enjoyed the sight of his strong jeans clad thighs as he rushed to fill my order. Lover’s Rock floated through the speakers and voices were raised in excitement while the smell of steam and roasted oyster wafted through the air.
Harbour View Round-About on any night but moreso Friday and Saturday nights is the place to be for seafood lovers. Now, this stuff is not for the weak….wi talking real, real conch stew, raw and roasted oyster, pepper from a questionable bottle which just adds to the excitement, fish frying in a black dutch pot, fried chicken, jerk chicken at every spot, fish soup, conch soup, chicken soup, rice and peas, vegetables, festival a roll, bammy bubbling in hot oil and lots and lots of alcohol…nice.
If you can appreciate a simple flex, this is the ideal thing. You can enjoy your meal to the sounds of Beres or watch a movie or two from a picnic table. Conversation, if that’s your thing, is easy with all you meet cause the vibe is jus’ sweet but if you prefer to gaze at the stars while you eat, that can be facilitated.
Sitting on my own at a picnic table smiling mostly at every person who stops to say “Goodnight”, I had my conch stew and thought about what I would do when got to the airport…how good it would feel to be in his arms again….if only for the weekend.
In the darkness of the night his golden brown skin glowed…alive with the anticipation of the task at hand and the activities to follow. As he smiled and made his approach I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect of the occasion on me.
“What can I do for you this evening?” His question was a simple one but I felt anxiety as I pondered what I really wanted.
“A medium conch soup and a bottle of water” I responded and enjoyed the sight of his strong jeans clad thighs as he rushed to fill my order. Lover’s Rock floated through the speakers and voices were raised in excitement while the smell of steam and roasted oyster wafted through the air.
Harbour View Round-About on any night but moreso Friday and Saturday nights is the place to be for seafood lovers. Now, this stuff is not for the weak….wi talking real, real conch stew, raw and roasted oyster, pepper from a questionable bottle which just adds to the excitement, fish frying in a black dutch pot, fried chicken, jerk chicken at every spot, fish soup, conch soup, chicken soup, rice and peas, vegetables, festival a roll, bammy bubbling in hot oil and lots and lots of alcohol…nice.
If you can appreciate a simple flex, this is the ideal thing. You can enjoy your meal to the sounds of Beres or watch a movie or two from a picnic table. Conversation, if that’s your thing, is easy with all you meet cause the vibe is jus’ sweet but if you prefer to gaze at the stars while you eat, that can be facilitated.
Sitting on my own at a picnic table smiling mostly at every person who stops to say “Goodnight”, I had my conch stew and thought about what I would do when got to the airport…how good it would feel to be in his arms again….if only for the weekend.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
A Lovely Day
Really, Really good Sundays start with my eyes fluttering open to the sounds of birds and....my warm body wrapped in his.
It is a day where only two things occupy my mind ....to see if he can keep up with me, and that we'll end the day with battle scars from the sucking, tugging, licking, slipping, slapping which occurs all in the name of love.
These Sundays are usually preceded by a week from hell and is a wonderful tool to refocus oneself through surrender to your attraction to him and his lovemaking with absolute ease.
Curling into his chest, kissing his bulging biceps, brushing your lips against his bearded cheeks, watching him slowly awaken....asking at that point if you could make love to him....seeing his eyes light up at the thought. Yes, on Sundays like that you conquer the bed, the bedroom floor, the bathroom adjoining, the kitchen....ahhh the kitchen....and any other room you choose. Its a necessity that no room is left unblessed.
If you are really, really lucky, this unfolds in a Hotel room on the North or South Coast where sustenance is but a phone call away. For Sundays like that you would actually pick a fight just to see how well he could channel his anger into more constructive energy.....
As he lays there... chest exposed, hair sprinkled across each pec, eyes glossy, his dark skin against the white sheets...you watch the rise and fall of his stomach as his excitement builds at the sight of you kneeling over him, tongue between your parted lips, hands trailing a path to his groin, swaying to the primal rhythm of his fingers on your clit....
How sweet a Sunday can be when you set yourself free.
It is a day where only two things occupy my mind ....to see if he can keep up with me, and that we'll end the day with battle scars from the sucking, tugging, licking, slipping, slapping which occurs all in the name of love.
These Sundays are usually preceded by a week from hell and is a wonderful tool to refocus oneself through surrender to your attraction to him and his lovemaking with absolute ease.
Curling into his chest, kissing his bulging biceps, brushing your lips against his bearded cheeks, watching him slowly awaken....asking at that point if you could make love to him....seeing his eyes light up at the thought. Yes, on Sundays like that you conquer the bed, the bedroom floor, the bathroom adjoining, the kitchen....ahhh the kitchen....and any other room you choose. Its a necessity that no room is left unblessed.
If you are really, really lucky, this unfolds in a Hotel room on the North or South Coast where sustenance is but a phone call away. For Sundays like that you would actually pick a fight just to see how well he could channel his anger into more constructive energy.....
As he lays there... chest exposed, hair sprinkled across each pec, eyes glossy, his dark skin against the white sheets...you watch the rise and fall of his stomach as his excitement builds at the sight of you kneeling over him, tongue between your parted lips, hands trailing a path to his groin, swaying to the primal rhythm of his fingers on your clit....
How sweet a Sunday can be when you set yourself free.
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