This morning while sipping my tea and praying that my faith would be strong enough to make today a Friday, I heard on my most favouritest station in the world these days "Love 101 FM" that persons were killing Albinos in some country beginning with a B and selling the body parts to people in Tanzania for purposes of witchcraft...."a wah dis Faada" People are so confused these days. I realised then that there were greater things in this world for me to pray about so I whispered a small one for love to be returned to the hearts of men.
On another note, the Player tempted me yesterday and I resisted...why?? Cause he's a married man and I am so not doing that anymore. If I were though I would fly to the ATL and get me some good freaky dick. Also, there's something about him that makes me feel less of a woman and that's unaceptable....we had a talk about that and he chastised me for reading too much into his actions, but my gut rarely lies so I'll stick with my instincts for now. Besides, I'm so hard up, I need a nice slow build up to my climax and I doubt very much he would've had the time to deliver.
I have to say though, its been awhile since I've locked my legs around the back of a man and felt his thrusting deep within the pit of my womb, or watched with interest his face as I dance atop his rock hard dick...so no doubt, homegirl had some interesting dreams last night....but I'll get over it.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Rejection for the Greater Calling
If he were more receptive today...on this bleak and beautiful day....I would jump at the opportunity to lay in his arms and listen to the drops of rain on the concrete....nothing more, just to rest with him would have been my goal.
If I were strong enough to see his shirtless torso now much, much bigger than before, expansive, chest inviting (Creatine works), his locks of hair trailing down his neck, sexy...sweet really...If I were strong enough, I could convince him that I would stop me from destroying my faith and wouldn't have to rely on him to be my rock...
Withou the threatening rain maybe I wouldn't be catching that familiar feeling.....but it is and I am and he doesn't trust me to be good....PITY
If I were strong enough to see his shirtless torso now much, much bigger than before, expansive, chest inviting (Creatine works), his locks of hair trailing down his neck, sexy...sweet really...If I were strong enough, I could convince him that I would stop me from destroying my faith and wouldn't have to rely on him to be my rock...
Withou the threatening rain maybe I wouldn't be catching that familiar feeling.....but it is and I am and he doesn't trust me to be good....PITY
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Exorcising Demons
Last weekend was spent fighting temptation....I won with a little help from prayer and my TotalGym 1500....Oh how I wish I had the TotalGym XLS or even the TotalGym 3000, but at a whopping US$1500 and US$849 its not gonna happen, at least not in this Recession. For now I just draem about owning the XLS and continue to salivate at the features.
When the burning yearning got to much I latched on to my Bible and read Psalms, Kings, Solomon and Acts but they weren't enough ...I thought. Eventually on Tuesday, i settled for a hug and a kiss from a bredren who is committed to helping me through this bold decision I've made...Damnit. He refused me yesterday, while the rain fell and my body ached, he refused me....am I losing my touch, Already???
When the burning yearning got to much I latched on to my Bible and read Psalms, Kings, Solomon and Acts but they weren't enough ...I thought. Eventually on Tuesday, i settled for a hug and a kiss from a bredren who is committed to helping me through this bold decision I've made...Damnit. He refused me yesterday, while the rain fell and my body ached, he refused me....am I losing my touch, Already???
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sinfully Good
Walking the straight an narrow with the Lord is not so easy when he has pecs like pillow tops, arms that you can imagine tightly wrapped around your waist, pretty pink lips, abs like ridges, a taunt sweet waist that you picture in action grinding you in place, fingers of fury, touching each erogenous zone making you whimper and scream and moan...
Yes the righteous trod is threatened by him, the memory of him is enough to cause sin, yet I must push to the back of my mind his feel, his strong sturdy thighs, his jeans at low rise, his hips, the tsate of his d--k...its definitely not an easy road.
Yes the righteous trod is threatened by him, the memory of him is enough to cause sin, yet I must push to the back of my mind his feel, his strong sturdy thighs, his jeans at low rise, his hips, the tsate of his d--k...its definitely not an easy road.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
By His Deeds Shall a MAN be Known
Young, future bright....he was a child for whom the world came tumbling down when he heard the word "Divorce".
His days since the split were spent suppressing his hurt and pain at the loss of the familial safety net...Parents who were supposed to protect him, failed him and now look at the result.
Frustrated, tired of shouting silently for help, he succumbed to the J'can male stereotype..."Bad man nuh bawl, they act out". He hid his emotions under transparent actions, tucked away the longing in him for that cuddle, a demonstration of love and protection and he succumbed.....he succumbed to the pressure of destroying someone or something else, after all, misery loves company. In order to get the attention he needed, he realised he had to scream from the core of his being for somebody, anybody to SAVE ME PLEEEEASE.
His deteriorating mind found a voice in a blog, an outlet which escalated his plea.......Jamaica, the secret society that it is, closed its eyes and ears and he languished in latent violence.
Bombarded with images of 9/11, bombings in Afghanistan, nauseating demonstrations of force of will on smaller opponents, and the ease with which one can create mayhem, a website guide to world domination explored maybe. His Itouch, cellphone, computer, TV screen, weapons of self destruction, a detonator in his hands and a head full of erroneous thoughts...a dangerous combination, but a necessity for the HELP he needed.
He's a Jamaican boy, armed with his father's gun. Blind, Overcome with the release of finally letting them see what he had become....how much it really hurt. He forced his way in, he took charge of the plane and stonewalled the troops. Minutes turned into hours....and with messages streaming in from every angle, he grew intoxicated with the stage he had entered, spotlights on him, finally.....His father on a phone, his friends too, a pleading Prime Minister...which other 21 year old could claim such an audience...all for him, a shadow until then. Hoping to recover sanity, praying the system wouldn't fail him, or that Daddy's money could bail him....raging against just being a statistic, to not be counted among the number of failures at life after legislated parental split.
Steven Fray was as much a victim as the passengers of Canjet Flight 918 His country failed him. We failed to recognise his pain...we failed to listen to the words unspoken.....this baby of the soil, the JAMROCK, our hard hearts failed him completely.
In all this though, we give thanks, that the usual force of our armed forces was not displayed, and he lives....an opportunity provided to help him still.
My concern is that a jury of his peers, will not see this action as a cry for help, but instead, will sentence him to life among the real threat. Yes, we will bow to the pressures of international organisations who were the same to happen on their own soil, would have coddled the youngster instead of sacrificing one for the greater business number.
It is indeed sad that history will recall him as a troubled youth, with too much access to information for his idle hands, weak constitution, it will see him as the corn reaped from impure wayward youth. His deeds in one night, will forever be his badge of dishonour.....no matter the motivator, no matter the circumstance, a son betrayed by a mother and father....a son of the 21st century common phenomenon... a broken home....a text book case.
His days since the split were spent suppressing his hurt and pain at the loss of the familial safety net...Parents who were supposed to protect him, failed him and now look at the result.
Frustrated, tired of shouting silently for help, he succumbed to the J'can male stereotype..."Bad man nuh bawl, they act out". He hid his emotions under transparent actions, tucked away the longing in him for that cuddle, a demonstration of love and protection and he succumbed.....he succumbed to the pressure of destroying someone or something else, after all, misery loves company. In order to get the attention he needed, he realised he had to scream from the core of his being for somebody, anybody to SAVE ME PLEEEEASE.
His deteriorating mind found a voice in a blog, an outlet which escalated his plea.......Jamaica, the secret society that it is, closed its eyes and ears and he languished in latent violence.
Bombarded with images of 9/11, bombings in Afghanistan, nauseating demonstrations of force of will on smaller opponents, and the ease with which one can create mayhem, a website guide to world domination explored maybe. His Itouch, cellphone, computer, TV screen, weapons of self destruction, a detonator in his hands and a head full of erroneous thoughts...a dangerous combination, but a necessity for the HELP he needed.
He's a Jamaican boy, armed with his father's gun. Blind, Overcome with the release of finally letting them see what he had become....how much it really hurt. He forced his way in, he took charge of the plane and stonewalled the troops. Minutes turned into hours....and with messages streaming in from every angle, he grew intoxicated with the stage he had entered, spotlights on him, finally.....His father on a phone, his friends too, a pleading Prime Minister...which other 21 year old could claim such an audience...all for him, a shadow until then. Hoping to recover sanity, praying the system wouldn't fail him, or that Daddy's money could bail him....raging against just being a statistic, to not be counted among the number of failures at life after legislated parental split.
Steven Fray was as much a victim as the passengers of Canjet Flight 918 His country failed him. We failed to recognise his pain...we failed to listen to the words unspoken.....this baby of the soil, the JAMROCK, our hard hearts failed him completely.
In all this though, we give thanks, that the usual force of our armed forces was not displayed, and he lives....an opportunity provided to help him still.
My concern is that a jury of his peers, will not see this action as a cry for help, but instead, will sentence him to life among the real threat. Yes, we will bow to the pressures of international organisations who were the same to happen on their own soil, would have coddled the youngster instead of sacrificing one for the greater business number.
It is indeed sad that history will recall him as a troubled youth, with too much access to information for his idle hands, weak constitution, it will see him as the corn reaped from impure wayward youth. His deeds in one night, will forever be his badge of dishonour.....no matter the motivator, no matter the circumstance, a son betrayed by a mother and father....a son of the 21st century common phenomenon... a broken home....a text book case.
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