Hands, His

When you go through a breakup there are so many things that you go over in your mind that you may regret. Sometimes it’s the things we may say, sometimes it’s the things we may do and sometimes it’s the touches we miss. The touches that were not only sexual but also reassuring in the darkest of times. I’m not always able to say exactly how I feel but when he’d put his hands on my thigh or my waist, everything was always clear. I loved him, I loved him more than I thought I could love someone that wasn’t fully mine. Our relationship was never defined, nor was it in a box that could be picked off of a relationship shelf. When things got hard our excuse was that we are ‘us’ and that was the only explanation that was needed. I think as my love grew for him I began to see that ‘us’ wasn’t enough and I think I wanted to hear more things like we. We was moving forward, we wanted to plan a future, we wanted more kids, we wanted to have a plan for all the tomorrow’s. He blamed it on the fact that he grew up in the streets and was never able to learn how to just be with a woman, how to just be with me. So I went along with it, I went along with everything he said because he made it sound so good. He made us sound good even though it was far from. Even though I know that we shouldn’t be together I still sit here just missing him. Missing his touch. His hands would let me know how he feels and I miss the feelings, I miss knowing what was on his mind. Whether it was pinning me down while we would play fight or when he’d slip his hands up skirt to my sweet spot. The way he would wipe away my tears or the way he’d wrap his arms around me for reassurance. A break up can be a terrible thing but there is never an end for things that are meant to be. We needed to end, we needed to end because we wasn’t right but that doesn’t stop me from missing his touch, from missing his hands.

#Pleaseher

The first time I had a real orgasm, I gave it to myself. I knew sex was good and I knew it felt nice but once I had a real orgasm… it pushed me straight over the edge. The uncertainty of whether I liked it or wanted it to stop only made me want to do it more. Whether I used toys, wet fingers or told my partners to stick out their tongue… I never wanted to not feel that kind of pleasure.

Before I experienced the real thing I had many partners who all told me the same shit. How they will fuck me better then the rest, how they will make me beg for more and how I won’t ever have a better experience then with them. Yet every time it was them that was left satisfied and me exhausted from faking it and pretending to moan.

So I opted for something a bit more personal, a bit more guaranteed and now the only thing I need to worry about is if I have enough spare batteries.

But let me not lie and act like no one has ever pleasured me on this earth. Sometimes I still pick up the phone to book a session in with my neighbor. He’s saved in my contacts as big tongue Tyrone.

Loud thoughts

Five months without sex and I thought I was doing well, but I can’t get rid of all my past experiences. Everything reminds me of something sexual and I yearn for that beautiful feeling of wetness in-between my thighs. My thighs that use to be kissed, bitten, licked and caressed by men who are now no longer in my life. Just thinking about this makes my nipples swell with excitement, but once again I don’t have an eager mouth to tend to them. To suck and nibble them and push me to want more of my body explored. I need exploring, I need a warm tongue parting my pussy lips and circling my clit. I want to feel the growth of a soft penis get hard just by my touch or even the thought of going into my body. Getting a back massage while the hard wood laid on my ass cheeks just hoping that it gets slipped in. I’d settle for a finger, a masculine finger being pushed into my mouth so I’d suck, and then pushed in my ass for me to bounce back on. I need to scream someones name because of the pleasure I’m receiving, I need to beg for more. What good are thoughts of the ones that did it before?

Why is it wrong?

Am I wrong for wanting a piece of him, him, her and her.

Society says it’s wrong.

My friends say I’m greedy.

Is it wrong for me to have many lovers?

Is it wrong that each of them have a special part that equates to my perfect being?

Why must I just have one mate?

Why does it have to be a man?

My auntie says “Cuz we nuh inna di batty gyal biznes”

She doesn’t understand that our culture doesn’t have to affect who I am.

He fucks me so good I lose control of my body, it surrenders to him and never puts up a fight.

She provides me with her sensual flair, making me believe in my sexiness and know that it’s ok to want the best that’s out there.

He makes me laugh and never wants to see me cry. When I’m around him I never know whether it’s day or if it’s night.

She is my provider, she makes me feel safe and warm. She never lets me have to deal with rainy days or them horrible storms.

Together they make the perfect one. The person I see myself falling and falling and falling over and over and over again in love.

Why must that be wrong?

Why is it socially acceptable for a man to gift his dick to what ever woman may blink but if a woman does the same she isn’t worth shit.

She is called a HOE, SLUT, WHORE and could never be a wife. Just because she’s living unapologetically in this crazy thing we call life.

A sexual being, yes. Also, looking for the right attributes to make the best.

Is it wrong?

Is it really wrong?

When you think about it are you truly with the one?

Or are you just with someone that was better than the rest but still missing something hun?

Live your best life and be who you want to be.

I’m only my best when I’m being me.

Not like this

I’ve felt it before

It was nothing like this

Each feeling is somehow new to me

Almost so good it should be forbidden 

Dangerous in an addictive sense 

I yearn for him when he’s gone

Yet when he’s here I say no

Not because I need him to stop

Simply because I can’t take anymore 

He makes me feel things I never knew I liked

He makes me love things I never liked before

My body is for him and only his touch satisfies

When I’m alone I lay there and fantasise

I touch myself and think of him hoping to feel what he makes me feel

It’s never the same 

I use to love playing my body like an instrument

A piano playing all the right keys

But as soon as he came along I never play the correct song 

My body is for him and only his touch satisfies

He kisses me all over with a new level of passion

Never misses an inch

Explores me to find exactly what drives me crazy

He aims to please and he pleases so well

He whispers in my ear if I like how it feels

I’m always confused as my body is shaking can’t he tell

His pleasure takes me over 

Tingling every nerve

Like the orgasmic version of pins and needles

I sometimes even feel like is this more then I deserve

My body is for him and only his touch satisfies 

Don’t get me wrong I wouldn’t say I’m promiscuous 

I wouldn’t say I know everything about sex at all

When it comes to it I’m very confident but he makes me feel entry level

My mind consumed by thoughts of regret wondering why I never let myself be felt by him before

Pt1

He was standing there naked, touching himself and trying really hard to seduce me. I wanted to act as if I wasn’t interested, can’t remember why, but it was failing miserably. He was on a mission and by the time he got to a strong pace I was naked. I stuck my two fingers in my mouth and used my other hand to squeeze my nipples. He came over to me and stood right next to where I was laying on the bed, if I leant forward I could’ve tasted his tip. I took my two fingers out of my mouth and started to rub my clit. Watching his eyes scanning my body was making me yearn for his touch. I took my other hand and spread my lips so he could see everything that was happening. It doesn’t take me long to make myself cum and he knows exactly when it’s coming. The lower part of my body starts to shake, my eyes roll back, nipples elongate and stifled moans start to escape. “I’m going to kiss you now, don’t stop playing with yourself until I say.”

He’s so bossy in the bedroom but I love it, a man who takes control and gets a little rough when need be. 

All’s fair in love and war

The mere thought of what he did to me last night had me yearning. It was like he was at war with my body and was showing it whose boss. My bed was the battlefield and he was planning on invading my walls. His tongue had me screaming and clawing at my sheets. Orgasms like bullets. His fingers backed up his tongue and continued the beautiful torture. I started to move away, couldn’t take anymore. As soon as he felt me try to escape, in came his dick and just like that I exploded.