You Don’t Know…

No slow motion.

It’s that revenge shit, where he tested this flexibility and made my walls remember him, because you didn’t.

It’s that hate passion, that raw fucking, where he didn’t even put his lips to mine but instead sucked on my neck to leave a reminder, to make you remember these lips are yours.

But you don’t know.  You don’t know.

It’s that mad fucking, that make-time-for-me-motherfucker fucking, that you’re-gonna-miss-your-boo-when-I-make-her-mine sex, the one you’ll wish you could get back fucking.

It’s that sad sex, the one that made me close my eyes tight and imagine you instead of him, the tears threatening a pool in my ears because you weren’t there, you weren’t here, you weren’t.

And my body knew it wasn’t you, even with my eyes forced shut, it wasn’t you because you didn’t feel right, it wasn’t your skin, your breath, your touch, your moans, your voice, it wasn’t your size inside, it wasn’t your love inside. 

But you don’t know.  You don’t know.

And I lay here spent, aching from his fucking, aching from his workout on me, hurting from this pain in my heart that’s torn.

All because you don’t know.

Lazy Love, Part II

*read part one here*

I make room for him on the chair that’s meant for one and he’s sitting entirely too close and I tell him he should be comfortable because it’s his house so he stretches a leg over me.  Again, this comfort.

We toast from our mismatched wine glasses and we sip and it’s clearly evident how magnetic this attraction is.  He asks me questions and watches my mouth as I answer him and he looks into my eyes and I’m distracted.

He suddenly places his finger in the middle of my spine and starts trailing it up and down, making me sit upright.  My head instinctively falls back and my eyes close, an open invitation for more.

He pulls me back towards him and places his finger on my chin.  He raises my head to his mouth and kisses me, softly but urgently.  I feel his need for me.

I stand up and hold my hand out to him.  In an instant he’s by my side, guiding me towards his bed.  He pulls my sweater over my head and my hands are on his chest, taking in every last muscle, my fingers not able to get enough of this man.  I want him underneath me.

He lays me down gently and turns me over on my belly.  His fingers grasp my waistband and my undies are slid over my behind, my legs.  He lays directly on me, feeling, wanting, needing.  His arousal is evident and I moan loud enough to let him know I’m ready.

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He pulls me up and kisses me, his lips and tongue lingering over my back, the curve of my behind, in between my legs and I’m anxious now, wanting this desire to be filled, completed.

“This is mine,” he whispers, barely audible.  “I’m going to make you mine.”

In one thrust, he’s inside, sending me over every edge, my body pulsing with every last touch of his.   His movements are calculated, rhythmic, smooth and experienced.  He’s aiming for my pleasure, my need, my want.

I push up against him, aching to reach mine but he’s a slow lovemaker, lazy almost, making sure I feel every last inch of him and I want to speed him up, I’m close, so close but he’s taking his time and I’m grabbing the bedsheets and holding onto his back and gripping his shoulders and yet he continues his slow and loving motion.

I give in to all the feelings and he senses this and starts moving faster.  He looks down into my eyes and smiles and briefly he stops, tenses up and I’m going against him, pushing and pulling and wanting all he’s got to give and together, in seconds, we call out and we’re done; hearts pounding, sweat beading, bodies sticking, spent and content.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#MusicMonday – Fuckin Wit Me – Tank

slp2

I’m all in my feels with this one.

*cop it here*

‘Cause I eat up for a while, let me through
The shake, the screaming aloud, I’ma fuck
In my face you shake, leaking everywhere

Ride it out I don’t care, what you do

Every time I lick it, you be losing it
These young boys didn’t know what to do with it
You got it all in my face, I love the way that it taste
When you put it all on my plate
Won’t go to waste

That’s what you get everyday
When you fucking with me
Fucking with me
That’s what you get everyday, oh
When you fucking with me
That’s what you get everyday
When you fucking with me

I’ve waited out for a while, let me through
Know I get it and won’t stop, like a zoo
You got the right to be selfish
For all of them nights you were helpless
The mornings you left making breakfast
The mornings you left making breakfast, oh yeah

Every time I lick it, you be losing it
These young boys didn’t know what to do with it
You got it all in my face, I love the way that it taste
When you put it all on my plate
Won’t go to waste

That’s what you get everyday
When you fucking with me
Fucking with me
That’s what you get everyday, oh
When you fucking with me
That’s what you get everyday
When you fucking with me

Everyday when you wake up
When you get home from your job
Yeah this can really be us
Trust me babe I don’t get tired
I got more than one way to please you
Lay it down, god know how to teach you
Satisfied as I wanna go lick you
It’s more than a world girl I need to

Every time I lick it, you be losing it
These young boys didn’t know what to do with it
You got it all in my face, I love the way that it taste
When you put it all on my plate
Won’t go to waste

That’s what you get everyday
When you fucking with me
Fucking with me
That’s what you get everyday, oh
When you fucking with me
That’s what you get everyday
When you fucking with me
Let’s go, yeah
You know what I wanna do.

Enamored…

When he laughs, my whole being feels.  It’s real laughter, no games, no pretense, no falsehood.  And I’m pleased.

When he touches me, my whole being trembles.  His touch reminds me I’m alive and awakens every sense.

And when he kisses me, I melt into him and I remember the first time we kissed and he melted into me then and I want to cry, tears of awesome joy and happiness and this, this lust, this inner peace is something, it’s all something, waiting to be explored.

And when he enters me, my God, how I want to give him all of me.  My body yields fully into him and I want to give him more and more and more.  And I let him take me and let him feel every last bit of my existence and I feel him inside and it’s right, it’s all right and I kiss his neck and run my nails along his back and kiss his shoulder to avoid screaming and this is love, this is love we’re making, it’s all love we’re making.  I’m totally and completely enamored by him.

He’s finishing my thoughts and completing my sentences and this is too soon, it’s too quick, it’s too much passion all at one time and I have no control, I can’t help it, I just want it, I want him, I want it all.

And when he says my name….

Nothing else matters.  Life is complete.  It’s all emotions rolled into one, my passion, my lust, my peace, my joy, my happiness and I just want to hold him and hear him again and feel him again and kiss him, my God, how I love his kisses and it’s complete.

I’m complete.

I just want to hear my name in his mouth again…

Till You’re Ready

You’re still here.  Not as much as before, but you’re here.

You pop in suddenly, like you want to remind me. 

But I don’t need reminders.  I remember you all on my own.

I remember the shape of your eyes, the hue of brown they were, how they shone when you looked at me.

Yes, your eyes shine. 

I remember the smile you didn’t really like, but I loved.  Love.  Still.

And your voice.  I remember it.  And your laugh.  To a tee, I remember.

And your feel.  I remember how you feel when I lay my head on your chest and your heart thumping in excitement or nervousness or whatever it is, but I feel it beating against me and I remember your back muscles and your arms, dear God, why do I remember it just like yesterday?

And then, I wonder if you’re loving, if you’re letting someone love you.  I wonder if you’re touching or who’s touching you.  I wonder who your heart beats for, who’s making your heart beat, who’s got you.

Sometimes, most times, when he’s deep in my walls and I’m closing my eyes and reaching, it’s you above me, you’re helping me reach, you’re helping me get it and get it and get it again.  And it’s your name in my head, your name I see in the darkness of my eyelids, your eyes in my memory, your mouth sucking all the life out of my soul, your teeth biting my lip, your tongue soothing that bite as you moan my name, over and over and over in pleasure.

And when he spills and I adjust my body to accept him, it’s you I’m accepting, you who’s spilling.  And I want to yell out, I want to make you hear me, make you feel me, make you more than just a damn memory.  I want you to feel it, I want you to hear it, I want you to remember.

These damn memories.

They’re here.  They’re not going away.

And I’ll wait.

Until you’re ready.  

For the next time you contact me.  

For Now

I have no right.  I mean, she’s to you what he’s to me right?

But, couldn’t you be honest? When you were pounding into me and loving me those nights, was she there?  Was she in your thoughts?  Did you imagine her?

I doubt it.  Not the way you held my head the way you did.  Not the way your fingers dug deep in my skin the way they did.  And absolutely not the way you fit inside me like the missing piece of that frustrating puzzle, the way you did.

Does she do you like me?  Does she make you squirm and throw your head back in ecstasy like me?  Does she make you tense up as you spill your seed inside like me?

Nah.  You’re not in the right place, your mind ain’t right.  You don’t want this.  You said so yourself.  Unless that was a lie too.  Was that a lie?  Will I ever know the truth?  Will I ever be your truth?

Photograph me.  Pull me up behind you like you did that night and photograph my mouth on you doing what you like that I do to you.  Throw me on the bed and turn me over and snap away as you push inside and pull me up and push inside and pull me up.  Again.  And again.  And again.  Snap away.  Go ahead daddy.  Snap away.

Take that money shot and post that shit on your Instagram and tell all your friends about how good you did me, how crazy I fucked you, how maddening you made me, how urgently you insisted and how quickly I made you…

Come.

Come clean.  Leave her behind.  Let her be.  And when you call me again, when you want me again, when you want that real dirty, I’ll make sure you forget her, Mr. Crushboy.

Lazy Love

Oh, you got that, I don’t wanna,

That I don’t wanna go nowhere, lazy love,

You got that, I don’t wanna,

That I don’t wanna do nothing, that lazy love. ~ NeYo, “Lazy Love.”

He greets me at the door wearing sweat pants and a wife beater.  He has no idea what one of those items does for my thirst, imagine the deadly combo…

He’s barefoot and comfortable and immediately this makes me smile.  He lets me in and half hugs me but I fold into him and he hugs me again, fully, hands tightly around my back like this happens every day…

I can’t stop looking at his arms.  He has no idea how many times his arms have been in my thoughts, how many times those arms kept my legs up in the air, how many times those arms were above my head, how many times I bit into his flesh…

His pants are too big and they slide ever so discreetly over the vee of his torso and goddamn, I think, why doesn’t he tighten that string that’s made specifically for that reason and then I think, maybe he did that on purpose because he wants to tease me and get me on my knees…

His back is strong and sculpted and again, he has no idea about how I feel about strong backs or else he wouldn’t make me follow him but I follow him into the kitchen and watch as he struggles to open up a bottle of wine and it’s clear he doesn’t have to do that often and again, I smile, because he’s doing this solely for me and I think too much and I like to make up stories in my mind and this particular story in my mind in his kitchen is endearing…

It’s not small talk.  It’s like he knows I hate small talk because our conversation flows and our words mingle and already he’s finishing my sentences and I just want to kiss him as I watch his mouth move and his lips, Jesus, his lips…

And I say something that makes him smile and his eyes crinkle in the corner and motherfuck, why do I want to lick his crinkle, why are his eyes so sexy…

He leads me upstairs and I could tell he cleaned up for me, a girl knows when a man gets ready for her and he did, he got ready for me and again, another thought pops into my head and I’m saying this is all too good to be true…

I want nothing more than to lay him down on his neatly made bed, nothing more than to pull those sweat pants down over that vee and have that back under my fingertips and have those arms in between my teeth.  But I don’t.

I sit on the chair in the corner…