Pleasure Principle

I rarely ever do anything I don’t want to do. I live in my own world and blaze my own trail. I get judged a lot for this. I am the daughter that will suggest drinking mimosas for breakfast, wine with lunch, champagne with dinner, and encourage my mother to sex it up a little with her wardrobe. I am the auntie that buys my nieces miniature boots that look like my own over the knee ones and allow them to play in my hair when it’s straightened. When they see me they automatically ask for lip gloss. I am the mother that freely allows my sons to find and follow their own bliss without too many restrictions. I only command that they be respectful polite gentlemen, open doors, carry in heavy boxes/groceries, etc., try their best, omit the word ‘can’t’ from their vocabulary, and think for themselves. My boys think I am fun, bubbly, and sometimes mean. I can live with that. Because of my freeness, I have the desire to neither lead nor follow. I am content doing my own thing.


I was watching “This Christmas” with my mother the other night, and she said Sharon Leal’s character, Kelly, reminded her of me. She also says the same thing about Kim Kardashian. *rolls eyes* Anyway, there is a scene where Kelly meets a guy out at a bar with a few of her siblings. The guy is a former friend of her elder brother that she doesn’t technically know. She ended up leaving her siblings at the club and leaving with the guy. The next morning she tried sneaking into the family home with her boots in her hands after having spent the night with the guy from the bar. My mother said, “That would be you. You even dress like her and have that ‘I don’t care’ attitude. You would be trying to sneak in like no one would know where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.” Her comment initially made me feel like a whore, but then I realized I am just bold enough to do what makes me happy.

My sister graduated last week. To celebrate we went out to dinner and later she decided she wanted to hit up a lounge. My honey caramel complexioned muse that I have recently started kicking it with was already at the lounge when we got there. He was bored and was only waiting there for me because I was close and wanted to see him. I introduced him to my sister; he said he was leaving but I was more than welcome to come along. For me, he was the better option. My sister was a little miffed I left her, but she was getting what she needed from sources other than me. She was in good hands surrounded by her husband and their married friends.

For that moment in time I knew being with Mr. HC Muse would make me happy. Not just because he’s 6’3, handsome, intelligent, and incredibly sexy. He had what I needed, wanted, and craved. I needed his attention and adoration of my gi-normous hair and imperfect body. The fact that he noticed and liked my attire and shoes was an added bonus. I needed to straddle his lap and lavish him with kisses. I live for affection, and he doesn’t seem to mind. I needed to feel wanted, to giggle, and to be free to freely allow him to bask in my femininity as I consumed and reveled in his gentlemanly masculinity. I craved his kisses, answers to my many unending random questions, his softness, warmth, easy going nature, and his ability to make me feel like a modern day damsel with his natural chivalrous acts of old.

He pulled out his camera and started taking random pictures of me while I continued to straddle his lap. I needed that, too. I needed everything he offered and agreed to that night simply because it made me happy. I have no regrets. I hope he got a strong dosage of his own kind of happiness as he indulged in me living out The Pleasure Principle.

I do not own the image used in this post

The Minds of Men

Sorry I left you without so much as a Dear John. I’ve been planning and strategizing the next moves I should make in my personal life along with writing here and there, tending to my not so wee ones, experimenting with my mane and matte lipsticks, trying my hand at sorta kinda dating, and well, just living. Anyhoo, I have a few male friends, and I find they are some of the most bluntly honest creations of God. As many similarities that exist among them there is an equal amount of differences as well in regards to hair, sex, recognition of freaks versus women that know how to freak, cunnilingus, sucking toes, blow jobs, and clothes. Yes, I pick their brains because as much as I love and adore men, I am not one. Let’s get into it, shall we?

On Freak-tastic-ness…I was alone with one of my pals, (*Lenny, age: mid 30s) and asked how he would feel if a woman blew him on the first date. I wanted to know if he would view her as a slut puppy or not. His response was, and I am paraphrasing here, “There is a difference between a freak and a woman that knows how to freak. If we’re out to dinner a movie or whatever and she just can’t keep her hands off me and keeps alluding to the fact that she wants to get down without me even having to try, I mean I don’t even have to kiss on her neck or anything, then I would label her a freak. That’s just how she gets down. I wouldn’t judge her, but she would be put on ‘that’ list. You know, the list you keep on standby for those nights when you’re bored and don’t have anything lined up.” Ladies, this list is akin to the ‘Break in Case of Emergency’ dick in a jar list. Some people love being on those lists, others, not so much. The second part of his answer was, “On the other hand, if we’re just vibing and the chemistry is right but I have to put in some effort in order to get her to ease some of her inhibitions and we end up doing what grown people do, then I would say she’s just a grown woman that knows what she wants and knows how to be a freak, but I assume this isn’t just commonplace for her. She won’t end up on ‘the list’ and could possibly be girlfriend potential.”

On Blowjobs, Toe Sucking, and Cunnilingus…I was out with three of them, and they were boring me with sports talk. If it isn’t about the Texans then I tune everything out. I am not a sports girl, per se, but I love my city. I rudely interrupted their conversation and asked if they sucked toes and why or why not.

*Tommy, age: early 30s: I do. Ain’t no thing. I’m a beast.

*Lenny: Nawl, I can’t get down with the toe sucking. That just ain’t my thing

*Marlon, age: older: No, I don’t.

I was surprised. For the most part these are very open-minded men that chop it up about everything under the sun. I naturally assumed toe sucking would be something they were game for. I then asked if they give face (Cunnilingus). I was certain they would all say yes. Needless to say, I was shocked!

*Tommy: Oh yeah. I’m a beast. I do it all, even break out the Halls (throat lozenges) on that.

*Lenny: Nawl. I mean, I gotta be on one to do that and I don’t be down there too long.

*Marlon: No. Y’alls generation just does stuff that was unheard of back in the day. Nobody did that kind of stuff when I was coming up.

*Tommy: They were doing it, y’all just didn’t know about it.

I had to agree with Tommy. People did it; they just didn’t vocalize it. I swear I was looking at Marlon and Lenny as if they were from another planet. In my head I was trying to figure out how they kept their women satisfied without, you know, putting their tongues in the honey pots. Not all women are into that, but the ones I know are far and few. Then we got on blowjobs. Well, those are unanimously appreciated around the table. So…they all want head, but not all are willing to give it in return. Selfish bastards. LOL. They even talked about how some (*Lenny) liked having the perineum licked while the other two not so much. To be fair, though, I know men that like to give but not receive.

On Clothes…They all agreed that they could appreciate the versatility of a woman that can switch up from pumps, pencil skirts, and suits to rocking sweats, Ts, and chucks effortlessly, and that confidence is key. *Lenny made a comment about some chick they all know. I don’t know her. He said she was ugly pretty or sometimes pretty. I can’t recall his exact wording. What he meant was some days she was a looker, and other days he would look at her sideways, like, damn, she ain’t that pretty today. I laughed so hard because men are just…men. They have opinions about things we would never think they thought about.

Of course my time with them would not be complete without them ragging on me. They called me spoiled simply because they were sitting at the bar and I politely asked if we could sit at a table. I just wanted to be able to see all their faces when we talked. I was also told that when I wasn’t dolled up I looked like an angry Black woman. What gives?! I always wanted an older brother growing up. Now I appreciate not having one. Men…gotta love ‘em

Love Begets Love

It was a balmy and rainy but refreshingly clear night in May. I drove over to his place, and he greeted me at the door. I walked in and took my shoes off as he closed the door behind me. He proceeded to gift me with one of those hugs that only he could give…sensual, gentle yet firm, and makes the receiver feel wanted and needed. With my shoes off he towered over me, so that made me feel as warm and secure as a baby in its mother’s womb. He pleasured my lips with a kiss that came standard with his hugs, which lingered for what seemed like lost moments in eternal bliss before softly kissing the side of my neck and ushering me over to his black leather couch.

I sat on the couch, and he sat on the floor between my legs facing away from me. I draped my toasted almond colored legs over his shoulders. He rubbed my legs and commented on how soft they were as I leaned over and hugged him, kissing his cheek before sitting back into a lazy upright position. My hands mindlessly caressed his head as we chatted about work, the weather, our children, and anything else that effortlessly came to us. I suggested we make love on his patio, but we eventually decided against it, as the neighbors would see us. At that moment he leaned back deeply, placing all of his weight between my thighs and lightly squeezed my calves. “This is what I need.” He said. “This is what I need to come home to after work. Peace, a beautiful woman, and sitting between soft thighs. It gets so hard out there traveling back and forth and coming home to nothing.” He grunted softly before squeezing my legs again, standing up, and leading me into his bedroom where he kindly removed my clothing, laid me down, and unselfishly and passionately made love to me, taking care to always be aware of me.

I tried to deny I loved this man, but it was to no avail because he reminded me of the simplicity of my past, power of my present, and the hopeful coolness and peacefulness of my future. With him I learned that it’s okay love someone else without it leading to marriage and that loving someone else as passionately and purely as you love yourself is not a crime. I ultimately learned to live in the moment and to not fight what I feel/felt. It’s what makes us human, and vulnerability is what makes us attractive. Never underestimate the powers of denial and familiarity. The harder you fight the feelings the stronger they become because, well, it’s a form of deceiving yourself. You can lie to anyone in the world, but never lie to yourself.

Yes, my heart still skips a beat and smiles when I see his face and my vagina weeps bittersweet tears in remembrance of being his lover, but I also know what I need now. I need friendship, intimacy, the freedom to be my dorky self, and someone that looks at me with pure smitten adoration that is always aware of me. I still love him even though our status is no longer ‘lovers,’ rather now it is that of ‘friends.’ He still calls me Claudine because I can never shut my brain off, and I call him Roop because he runs away when feelings get too real. I learned to love without losing myself, and he learned how to simply love. We were both teachers and students of love at the hands of each other. I happily walk away knowing I have his admitted love for me because love makes everything better, especially friendships. I said all that to say, stop being selfish with your love and trust God with your heart. Life is so much sweeter that way. The heart is never safe no matter how protective you are of it because it deceives even itself. Drop the superhero capes and bask in the rich simplicity of just being. Only God truly knows the heart anyway.

Secret Lover Never Loved

I take full responsibility for my heartbreak. You never asked me to love you, trust you, nor care about you. You never even asked me for a relationship, let alone my heart. Always the secret lover, but never loved. Body of a goddess, mind of a philosopher, heart of pure love, and spirit of a nurturing mother, but always the one left in the dark while lesser deities are flaunted in public. Maybe there’s a sign on my forehead that reads sucker for love with an amazing vagina, or maybe it reads will love for affection. I’m what you say you want. I’m strong and independent, but I never make you feel as though I don’t need you. I let you know you’re wanted and desired with every breath I take. Not just sexually, but in every way a woman can want a man. I have no hidden motives when it comes to you. You know this. I lay my vulnerabilities right there on the table. Showed my cards the moment I realized I loved you. I hold nothing back. Wait…maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I don’t play the game right because, well, I don’t play games. Maybe I should saddle up next to the whores and manipulators that can get men to buy them anything and cheat on good women for moments of freaked out pleasure. Maybe I should have been everything you say you hate in women…loud, obnoxious, angry, scene causing, crazy deranged bitch with a mean shoe game.


I'm not done with this piece yet, and I don't know where I'm going with it, but this is what I got off the top of my head. I am working on spoken word pieces.

35 Before 35 Bucket List

I'll be 31 in September. Shout out to my fellow Virgo-Libra cusp riders (the Cusp of Beauty, part Virgo, part Libra, fully beautiful). So...here is my bucket list of things to accomplish before I turn 35.

1. Go to Hawaii
2. Take culinary classes
3. Try Yoga (I actually tried this for the first time today! Loved it.)
4. Try Pilates
5. Wear a bikini (with a cover up of course)
6. Grow hair past my bra strap (Almost there!)
7. Cook scallops
8. Learn how to grill steak and ears of corn
9. Make a killer Sangria
10. Make love on a hotel balcony
11. Own another home, this time with no joint owner
12. Make love and smoke weed in Jamaica (I've never tried any illegal substance)
13. Learn how to roll and smoke a cigar
14. Take a ballet class
15. Learn how to pole dance
16. Take a wine pairing class
17. Try open mic poetry
18. Own a small clothing boutique with things I love (mostly dresses, baby Ts, and effortlessly sexy off-the-shoulder tops)
19. Send my eldest son off to college :-) (Well, I’ll be 36)
20. Do a charity walk (Breast cancer)
21. Host a party with the steak, scallops, and Sangria I learn how to make on the menu
22. Own a pair of black Louboutin Pigalle pumps (120mm)
23. Learn French
24. Perfect my Spanish
25. Laugh so hard I pee my pants a little
26. See a Cirque de Soleil show
27. Write a book on the art of being a lady
28. Learn how to salsa
29. Kiss in the rain
30. Visit Bora Bora
31. Wear a garter and stockings
32. Own a pair of 1 carat diamond earrings
33. Engage in light bondage
34. Praise dance one final time
35. Make love to a man I love that loves me in return

Yes, I am a simple woman. LOL

Sober Thoughts

• I am working on a novel. I don’t know how to classify it, but it touches on the dichotomy of being both human and a spirit being. It also brings to life the spirits we face of lust, sexual perversion, envy, greed, etc.
  




• I think having gone through a divorce has taught me how to think and act like a man in terms of being a survivor and go-getter, but I am still very feminine. I suppose I am a study of contradictions. It’s a cumbersome reality, but it’s my reality.
  




• Sometimes I wish I had a man around simply to rub cocoa butter on my back at night. I am pretty good at doing it myself, but it takes a bit of strategy and flexibility.
  




• My father worries about me not being married. I wish he wouldn’t worry about me so much, but it’s what parents do.
  




• I am convinced I was born in the wrong decade. LOL
  




• I’m an INTJ female. INTJ females are rare, comprising only approximately 1-3% of the world's population. I am moody, blunt, honest, deceptively cold and aloof, but I am also very protective of the people I love and would quietly go without to make sure they have.
  




• I don’t like weaknesses in myself or other people, but I accept them.
  




• I don’t respond to much of anything. I must analyze the situation to verify what I think and feel.
  




• Music soothes my soul. Beautiful things make me smile. Love calms me.
  




• There is something so surreal about knowing the voice of God.

No Means No

I’ve known him for a short while. Roughly 3 months, and we’ve gone out twice. Actually he’s the guy from the previous post, 4th of July guy. He has invited me over to his place numerous times and has also asked me to go to LA with him for a weekend convention. I have declined all offers because, well, I had no desire to visit him or fly away to LA with him. This past weekend I was bored and decided to take him up on his offer to visit him. He made plans to cook me dinner. We were to watch movies and eat dinner. No big deal. I felt it was the least I could do because I have been mean to him, even a little rude. Let me back up. The reason I was mean to him was because I had to postpone one of our dates. At the last minute the boys’ dad called and asked if we could swap weekends because he was working out of town and the job lasted longer than he expected. I had no qualms with that. Anyone that knows me knows my babies come first, and they get first dibs at my time, finances, and affections. Anyhoo, I called him to reschedule our date and he pitched a hissy fit. He kept asking if we could just meet for a midnight showing of a movie and whether or not my mom could watch the boys so I could rendezvous with him. Um, no. I am not meeting you at midnight, and I will not subject my mother to an impromptu babysitting session to appease you. Just respect the fact I am a mother first and accept my offer to reschedule. Had we had definite plans or tickets to something nonrefundable then I would have asked my mother, otherwise, no.

This brings me back to this past weekend. I accepted his offer to spend the evening with him. He had just gotten a new apartment and wanted to show it to me. I got there, took my shoes off, and followed him as he showed me around his place. He was watching some summer league basketball game, so I proceeded to tweet and text since it was apparent he was into his game rather than nag him about not paying attention to me. He kept asking, “Who are you texting?” That kinda shook me a little because I am not his woman. He finally changed the game and put on a movie. That’s where the harassment began. He kept groping and fondling me, my breasts, ass, and vagina. I am known for looking like walking sex, but this night I was dressed completely down. Button down oversized shirt, cami underneath, cropped leggings, and chucks. Even my hair was slicked back into a bun. I kept telling him to stop, but he was persistent, so much so that he kept pulling at my pants and panties. I didn’t panic. I am usually always calm, and I didn’t want to alarm him. He finally calmed down, and I left. I told him I would never go back to visit him because he was too aggressive and scared me. He replied by saying he was nothing but a gentleman by inviting me over, giving me a tour of his place, and cooking for me. He even said he was being a gentleman by removing my clothes. He also said he remembers me saying I like aggressive men and that he may have gone overboard, but he was trying to appease me and what I like. I was certain I never told him that. It’s no secret I love sensual yet authoritative men because I am a sensual woman by nature.

I reiterated that I would not be back to which he replied, “You have a huge ass. That’s appealing.” Um…he lost me. I’m not scarred from this incident, but it did remind me to always follow my first mind. I had never experienced anything like that in my life. I am accustomed to men being respectful of me and my wishes. Of course men are known to be a little more persistent than usual if they are aroused, but every man I have ever been with has stopped if I said stop. I think I felt really violated because I was not into this guy. Not excusing his behavior at all. Ladies, be careful. Men, when a woman says no, please respect that.

Celibacy or Spread Eagle

May 21, 2011 after the Erykah Badu concert. My body, every curvy toasted almond colored inch of it, from my face to my toes, was licked, sucked, caressed, kissed, and stroked. I was lulled into a sweet multiple orgasm induced slumber, only to greet the next morning with several mini sessions of the night before. The entire morning into the late afternoon was spent binging insatiably on sex, sleep, lust, and pillow talk. No food, no water, no television, no radio, no grooming, just skin, intimacy and sleep. I felt like I had been locked away in a hibernating bear’s den, and I loved every earthy moment of it. I was starving when I left that den, physically, sexually, and spiritually. My binging ended and celibacy began.

I had to do this for my spiritual self and mental clarity. This post isn’t about my never ending quest for spiritual rightness, nor is it about my equally unyielding pursuit of perfect balance. This post is about my raging libido. I look like walking sex and feel like an orgasm waiting to happen. My biggest dilemma? Should I end my bout of celibacy, and should I choose to…whom shall I eagle spread for. I mean, 1 year, 1 month, 2 weeks, and 5 days is a long time to just randomly give up to someone. Don’t judge me. I think my body and kitty are prime choice, and I am very snobby when it comes to bedmates.

I am torn between my spiritual self and my hedonistic self. I went to lunch with my Big. I swear I must have thought about his lips on any part of my body no less than 30 times of the 1.5 hours we were together. I had a full out soft porn playing in my head remembering our many sensual encounters. Had he offered to leave the restaurant and follow him to his place I highly doubt I would have objected. I had another friend over for the 4th of July. I am so mean to him, but he never ceases trying to make me his woman. I love groveling men, so he always finds himself in rotation even after months of me ignoring him and his calls, texts, and desperate pleas for me to talk to him. He once sent me a text that read, “Abeg! Please, it take God to make you call me back. Your shakara don too much na. Please, just let me talk to you.” Anyhoo, so, as I was saying, he was over for the 4th. He’s very affectionate, always needs me near him and always makes me feel needed and craved, not just wanted. Maybe it has something to do with him being a Taurus. I have contemplated becoming intimate with him, but I just can’t bring myself to do so. I fear he would become very clingy. He told my brother in law that he wants to marry me. We aren’t even in a relationship, and I have gone out with him all of two times. No sex, no form of commitment, never met his friends, just dinner at a restaurant. He really wants me on his team.

I live in a state of arousal, and my body currently hates me. I want to put her out of her misery, but right now her only options are the two aforementioned men. There are others, but I don’t take them too seriously. I would never toy with 4th of July guy like that because it just wouldn’t be right. I know he cares about me. I can’t do Big because well, he’s also the guy from paragraph one, and he had me dickmatized. Doing him would turn into an all out addiction. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me to keep that eagle perched on a limb of a tree that reaches the heavens. I have learned a lot during my vow of celibacy, with the number one lesson being to put myself, my happiness, and mental, spiritual, and physical health first and to take it easy with my heart. If it’s meant to be, it will be. A man taking care to be attentive affectionately and sexually doesn’t necessarily mean he would be attentive to my other needs outside the bedroom. I suppose it just means he’s great in bed. 1 year, 1 month, 2 weeks, 5 days…and counting? Maybe, maybe not.

Commitment Phobic

Hi. My name is Chantay. I love love, soft kisses, giggling, daydreaming, making love, and oh yeah, I fear making commitments. I wasn’t always this way. There have been a few Bigs (Sex and the City) in my life that I would have gladly jumped at the opportunity to wed. Therein lays my problem. I love a challenge, want the unobtainable, pursue the impossible, and hope for beautiful rainbows, unicorns, and colorful butterflies, and I protect my sense of freedom at all costs. “I say who! I say when! I say who!” – Vivian from Pretty Woman

I don’t naturally gravitate to men or things that come easily to me. I prefer to seduce and be seduced. I want my mind and curiosity fondled and fucked and eventually the same for my body. The Bigs in my life were quite adept at keeping me intrigued by matching and even surpassing me in my unscripted manner of giving a little and retreating a little, then back to giving. Our relationships were never labeled. We talked, laughed, had amazing sex, shared secrets and dinners, offered companionship, and sincerely cared for each other, but we were never exclusive even if the topics of marriage and babies came up. We had fun. If something better came along we were all free to go and pursue whatever tickled our fancies. No labels. No commitments. When I felt my feelings getting too involved and too attached, I removed myself from the non-relationships.

I want love, commitment, trust, mind blowing sex, companionship, and fun. I want all of that in a marriage, but in the mean time I want to be committed only to flights of fancy. That’s what I told myself. In walks him, the perfect yang to my yin. He came in and challenged me on everything I profess to be. I say I’m free spirited. He wants me to travel the world with him and eventually retire in South Africa. I say I don’t stay mad long, never want to go to bed mad, and would prefer the same from a partner. I became the one that shut him out because I was upset over a misunderstanding, and it was him finding numerous ways to reach out to me to solve the matter because he didn’t want me to go to bed mad. I say I love hard and completely. He says love is a choice one makes and decided to love me almost immediately, but patiently waited for my love in return. I say I am nonjudgmental and open-minded. He divulged parts of his sexual past with me that no other man would dare be so candid and honest about, forcing me to reevaluate my relationship deal breakers. I say I want a man that’s always aware of me. He’s so aware of me he senses my moods while being oceans and continents away and picks up on my subtle changes of habit. I tried to find anything to be wrong with him so he would go away and leave me to my cherished freedom. Every time I became lost in my mind and looking for a way out because I was starting to feel as though the demon of commitment was causing me to hyperventilate, he would always, as if on cue, find a sweet effortless way to woo me back to him. I suppose being single for years after a broken marriage can have you running away from the very things you seek the most.

Unlike the Bigs in my life, he sees past the sexpot enigma and free spirited nature of me and into the deepest hidden parts of me. He knows my fears, my bad habits, and hang-ups. He even loves the fact I have a real potty mouth and likes when I swear at him. Yeah, he’s a sick man. Slowly and consistently he’s making me see commitment as less of a restriction, and more of a freedom to totally be my whole self in the presence of another that totally adores and embraces my quirks. He’s totally down for love, commitment, trust, mind blowing sex, companionship, and fun, but he also has an idea of how he wants my wedding ring to look. I suppose that would serve as a Dear John letter to the former Bigs in my life. I was made for loving. He’s tapping into my reservoir of it.

You're Turning Me On

I love to watch men eat. If you’re ‘friends’ with me on facebook you may have seen my post on that. It’s true; I shamefully admit I love to watch my date/man/male companion eat. It’s such an erotic turn on for me. It’s no secret that food is one gateway to a man’s heart, so it’s something they hold dear to them. I like to watch because they eat with such passion and nothing else really matters at that moment other than their hunger being sated, and they are usually very happy and accommodating afterward. Let’s face it, men get mean, irritated, moody, and down right cranky when they are hungry. Feed them, and all the world’s a happy place. I think for me it also turns me on because I don’t have full undivided attention because he’s focused on something other than me, and yeah…it makes me think about that, too. Go ahead, judge me.

I am obsessed with men that let me do and be me but also let me know when it’s time to submit. I am very offbeat and quirky with many fleeting passions and obsessions, so it takes a special man to keep in sync with me. I had a special friend; we shall refer to him as Dr. Cush. Dr. Cush would allow me to tease him to his limits. I would straddle his lap, instruct him to lay back, close his eyes and not touch me. I would then very slowly maneuver my lips about his face but never have them actually touch his face. When he was done being teased he very gently but authoritatively let me know it was time for me to get up so he could put it down. He was also very patient when it came to dealing with me and my never ending quest to balance my highly spiritually aware half with my highly sensual and hedonistic half. It’s a dichotomy of incredibly opposing forces that causes me to indulge in my craving and later withdraw from sensual pleasures of the physical kind then start all over with indulgence. He was there. We would switch from teasing and coy wordplay to having conversations that never included sex. He intrigued me because of his ability to always be on whatever page I was on. That made me crave him all the more.

Danger is arousing. Not DANGER danger, but a small adrenaline rush. Dr. Cush sometimes came over for gatherings. I would be in the kitchen cooking or fixing a plate or something of the sort, and he would pass me to go to the refrigerator. If my hair was up in a bun he would very lightly kiss the back of my neck or ‘accidentally’ run his fingers across my bum. Because it was always so subtle coupled with the fact there was always to chance someone would see him, I would be instantly aroused.

Last but certainly not least, potential is a turn-on. A man’s potential, real or imagined, is often what keeps a woman’s heartstrings attached to a man she should probably let go of. As long as she can see potential she has hope.

So, what are your turn-ons?

The Good Thing

I believe inside every woman lies a portion of the Arc of Covenant, but I think the world has gotten it twisted. Thirsty females vying for men by any means necessary and putting up with nonsense are making men feel like they are the gifts, when in reality, women are the 'good things' that bring the promises of enriched lives. To truly love and cherish a woman is to love yourself and taste a small portion of Heaven on earth.


I can’t speak for all women, but I like to be pursued. Summon me like the king that you are, and I will respond in a queenly fashion. Many men have told me they don’t like being ‘hunted,’ rather they prefer to be the aggressors. They admit they like for a woman to show interest before they make their moves, though. Fair enough. A well-timed genuine compliment or warm smile can work wonders for a man’s ego and opens the door for communication, allowing him to make his move. That being said, hardly anything makes a woman feel sexier than being wanted. It makes her softly purr like a kitty and elevates her femininity factor. Make her feel wanted and you’ll be treated to her feminine wiles that you know you can’t ever get enough of. A thirsty woman will lay it all out and show you her hand from the onset and not save anything for later. A calculating woman, on the other hand, will bring variety, spontaneity, and a bit of mystique to the table, slowly stripping away her layers and leaving you wanting yet always sated and eager for her to give you more. That is a rare gift. One of my personal mottos is: I am many things, but a girl has to reserve some secrets, otherwise the mystique surrounding her wanes, and she’s left being just another average woman.

Women are healers, nurturers, and producers by nature. A mother’s kiss can heal anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart. A wife’s touch can heal a wounded ego and the safe haven of her body can erase all the stresses of life. When you release into her, physically or emotionally, she takes your raw emotions as they cleave to the walls of her heart, and she either produces you a miracle that shares your DNA, or she takes on whatever ails you and intercedes on her face at the feet of God on your behalf until the issue has been resolved. Just a soft look from her has the power to make you feel comforted and supported.

Our gifts are not only spiritual, but natural as well. Every man I know that has gotten married has experienced financial growth and stability like never before. Wives are indeed a blessing. I leave you with advice given to me from my mother. If a man truly wants you he will make an investment in you. Not necessarily monetarily, but he will want to spend time with you and do the little things that show he wants and respects you.

Queen

I am a Queen in my own right

I only answer to that of The King of Kings

I want and dream only the impossible

Because all things are possible

I am gentle and kind to my subjects

For I heal with my kind soft words

I am not a harsh taskmaster

But I wash away the harsh treatments of the rulers before me

There is tenderness in my right hand

And love in my left

An unquenchable fire of love consumes when I open my heart

And light radiates when I open my mouth

As His thoughts escape my lips

Newness and freshness fall upon the gatherers

When His will flows from my pen

Old layers of lies are stripped off

As new ones of lightness replace

I am a Queen of oceans and seas

My depths are noncomprehendible

But my movements soothe and awe

I am a goddess of light

My beauty isn’t seen when looked upon directly

But is manifested in and upon all it washes over

I am a giver

I am a giver of blood

I am a giver of life

I am a giver of will

I am a giver of life

I am a giver of hope

I am a giver of life

I am a giver of love

I am a giver of life

I am a receiver of the injured and wounded

Because I am a giver of life

A Queen, in my own Right

Pride and Egos

Sometimes pride and egos get in the way of revealing true feelings and sentiments. They are both bitter and hard pills to swallow. People spewing truth have the tendency to unintentionally bruise pride and egos. Either way, overinflated senses of either can leave you all alone and bitter in a world that was meant for couples. Dynasties, empires, kingdoms, and households operate much smoother and much more colorfully when the duke, duchess, emperor, empress, king, queen, man, and woman exist together and are at liberty to sharpen one other as iron sharpens iron. I will to reign with you, my handsome mister. Even when my words hurt…they heal, and this is what love does. It chastens, then soothes.

Church Girl

You know her type, the perky friendly greeter at the church, or the seemingly
standoff-ish member of the praise team that never fails to put a little extra
funk in her strut when a handsome mister happens to walk past. If you catch her
outside of the sanctuary she’s quick to tell any man that shows interest she’s
celibate and saving herself for marriage. Get her to agree to go out on a date
and the conversation will center on how she’s ready to settle down intermingled
with subtle hints of coy seduction. No time for games because she’s been there,
done that, and knows what she wants. Get her alone in your place or hers and if
you listen closely enough you can hear her battling with herself as she tells
you to “Stop” as her actions scream “Don’t quit!”

It’s easy to talk her panties off because she really doesn’t have a real
relationship with the same God she prays to, to send her a man. If she did she
would trust Him enough to send a man that’s not only worthy of what’s between
her legs, but understands why she’s holding out now, even if she’s not a
virgin. Instead, she becomes everything the man that’s blowing her back out
wants her to be. She cooks and cleans for him, alters her personal appearance
to be what he likes, and pulls every trick out the bag as she takes it fast and
sucks it slow. While she’s cowgirl up on his penis riding him into a drunken
stupor of cum-induced bliss, she’s praying to God that this man can see what he
has in her, that she’s a good catch. I mean, hell, she’s showcasing all the
attributes of a Susie Homemaker in addition to the fact that she can suck and
f*ck like a pro. Why wouldn’t he choose her?! After the cum has spilled and the
orgasms have subsided, she finds herself trying to convince him to go to church
with her. She now tries to lure him into having a relationship with God in
hopes he will marry her, even though he’s not committed to even be in an
exclusive relationship with her, because unlike her, he meant every word he
said when he told her he was not looking for a relationship. She just knew she
could get him to change his mind.

In her mind she feels she’s the only one, even though he has given her no such
affirmation, so she stalks his facebook page and marks her territory by leaving
little subtle hints and comments that let all the other women he’s ‘friends’
with know that she knows him on an intimate level. You know how women do, make
references to things one would only know by spending time in the presence of
another, like how he likes his food prepared or how his tattoos look in person.
Sly sh*t that men overlook, but other women pick up on. While she’s marking her
territory, he’s seeking out a real woman that walks what she talks. Yes, men
have double standards when it comes to women. Most times in their minds they
are thinking the woman isn't who she says she is after she's sexed him because,
well, she sexed him even though she professed to be a woman of the cloth. More
oft than not, she's just a low self-esteem having woman that doesn't even know
who she is. Poor little Church Girl pulled all her tricks out the bag for
nothing. She has become a bottomless pit waiting for the next man to swallow.
Maybe she should have listened more to the sermons. It's not like she wasn't in
church every Sunday.


I do not own the rights to the image used in this post

Wah-lah! Magic!

Almost every woman I know is totally cool with and down for being her man’s sweet little whore in the bedroom. We all want to blow our glittery freak dust in your face and call out “Wah-lah! Magic!” as we leave you in need of electrolytes. Okay, typing that made me giggle, but seriously, we want that. In the words of Jill Scott, “I am not afraid to be your lady. I am not afraid to be your whore.” Many of us are eagerly anticipating the day we can proudly let our freak flags fly and go hard in the paint with no inhibitions. What’s stopping us? Well, I’m glad you asked, love muffins.



The number one reason we don’t go all out in the bedroom is because there is either none, or a lack of, exclusivity and/or monogamy. There are some women that pull every trick out the bag upon the first second of penetration without so much as a mention of monogamy. Those women usually end up alone, labeled as top notch hoes (yes, there is a difference between being a hoe and your man’s private whore), and eventually wind up being bitter. Most times they are just looking for love and equate good sex with the power to make a man commit. While good sex is some powerful stuff, it rarely leads to long term commitment. Then there are other women. I love good sex as much as the next warm blooded able bodied adult, but I will NOT put my best lemon meringue cookies in a jar only to have the crumbs of the other assorted cookies in the jar downplay the flavor and appeal of my own. I will, however, toss my regular oreos or chips ahoy in that bad boy. I may even offer up the cheesecake filled ones if I’m really feeling the guy, but not my best. My best is reserved for the man that will savor the complexity, smoothness, and richness of me, all of and only me. This is the man whose last name I’d proudly wear and whose child I’d willingly house in my womb.


The second reason is lack of security. If a woman doesn’t feel she can freely be herself with you, you won’t get the best of her in any capacity. This rings true most times in relationships that are abusive on some level, be it emotional, mental, or physical. There is always an ever-present fear factor. Liberty can’t operate and coexist with fear. There was only one man in my life that completely allowed me to be me, and even with him I held back because I knew I was not the only one. If he had been my faithful husband it would have been on and popping. There would have been almost nothing I would not have tried at least once, minus a threesome. There can only be one femme fatale in any bedroom I occupy. Yes, I am a whole lot of vain and selfish with my toys.


The last reason is she just doesn’t want to. Maybe the man is married, or he’s just something to do to pass time. Maybe she’s doing it out of sympathy because she feels sorry for the poor bloke. I have never had sympathy sex, but it happens. I doubt I would twerk his pole in true porno fashion if I was simply putting out to pacify him. No sir, he would get the dollar store barely suitable for consumption box of cookies.


My advice? Don't give your pearls, whatever they may be, your time, body, sex, mental stimulation, heart, etc. to swine. Don't kiss frogs in hopes they'll become what you see in them that they can't, and don't lay down with dogs that have been infested with fleas (i.e. other women). The dog may not harm you, but those fleas bite with intent to inject bitterness and pain. If you are a man-eater and can separate your heart from your vagina, then by all means, cast those pearls and enjoy yourself a nice BLT afterward. Now that, would be magic. I’ve never met a woman that could pull that one off and walk away still feeling whole.

These are solely my opinions. I do not own the rights to the image used in this post.

Miss Can't Get Right

She just can’t get over the relationship she was never in. Most times she’s a baby momma that became such from a meaningless fling, usually with a married man, or a woman that chose to spread the rods of her tent and commit to being in an uncommitted and unexclusive yet sexual relationship with an uncommitting man. Most women think their vajay-jays are the best he’s ever had, so quite naturally the aforementioned women just know in their heart of hearts they could make Mr. Uncommitting want to wife them. Either that, or he’s just all that in the sack and gets these women dick-matized.

Just so that we are clear, none of these people’s marital statuses are marked ‘married,’ and they all have their own places, so technically they are single and free to do what single people do, which is mingle. Miss Can’t Get Right (MCGR) and Mr. Uncommitting (Mr. U.) kick it, hang out, go a few places in public every now and again, and sex like rabbits. Of course you get to slowly learn bits and pieces about the person you are sexing because you are spending time together. Eventually things cool down and Mr. U. starts wandering. This is where things get complicated for Mr. U.’s penis and social life, and MCGR’s emotions. Apparently she’s either illiterate and couldn’t read the expiration date on her vagina, or she clearly didn’t get the memo that she wasn’t in an exclusive relationship and is, in fact, NOT HIS WIFE. Either way, she’s been living in the gray area of this non-relationship. I partially blame Mr. U. for this misinterpretation. When dealing with people, I would suggest you always say what you mean, and mean what you say, and more than that, your actions must match what you are saying.  You can’t say you’re just friends, with or without benefits, just cool, etc, yet entertain ‘what if’ scenarios/conversations such as what would it be like if you had a baby together or what it would be like if you were married. Those conversations leave MCGR and most other women with false senses of status, position, and entitlement, especially when it comes to the other women in Mr. U.’s life. This leads to MCGR snooping through your things, questioning you about who certain women in your life are, and sending women you’re facebook friends with inbox messages questioning their roles in your life and friending friends of friends just out of the clear blue sky. She also finds herself bumping into these women in public.  Is this by happenstance or not? Only she knows, but when she does meet these women face to face, she is sure to charge them up again about their positions in Mr. U.’s life. Ladies, please keep it classy by not confronting another woman about a man that is not yours, m’kay?

This childish and immature behavior is in part due to you, Mr. U., for not telling and showing this pseudo wifey-cum-obsessed woman what HER role in your life is or was. If you don’t man up and tell her exactly where she stands and backs it up with your actions you will either end up alone or with one of the simple thirsty chicks in your harem that just wants a man. No sane woman is going to put up with such nonsense while you use the sorry piss poor excuse of ‘that’s just how she is.’ The sane woman will know she will not have to put up with MCGR simply because 'that’s just how she is' because she knows that if you, Mr. U., can’t get through to her, policemen issuing notices, citations, and subpoenas WILL. It’s somewhat hard for desperate women to meet men while they’re behind bars serving time for restraining order violations and excessive harassment.

Get your ish together, people. Always be clear about what the relationship is and is not, and don’t subject innocent people to Miss Can’t Get Right’s asinine actions. Clearly this woman needs prayer, and Mr. U. has 99 problems, and a b*tch is 98 of them.

Don’t play the game if you are not well-versed on the Rules of Engagement. There will always be a wild card in the deck that trumps all.