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Monday, January 31, 2011

I'm Sayin' Doe!

I love a man who can hold up his end of a stimulating conversation, has a college boy vibe and an open mind. Mr. Clean Cut can turn me on with his entrepreneurial prowess, articulate speech and cultured social life. He's good in bed, and likely a freak, but often times a girl gets bored with Mr. Clean Cut, he's nice, but every now and then a girl needs to get her hands dirty!

-Enter Hood Willy-

I have becoming increasingly unhappy with the current "relationship" that I'm in, and recently decided to open up my options and find a possible new buddy. It always seems as if just when one man fucks up, another one lucks up, and little did I know, I would run up on someone new sooner, rather than later. I reconnected with this old friend of mine, we go way back to grade school. He's a cutie. Nice full lips, caramel complexion, nice package...and straight up hood fabulous!! He lives in the heart of the inner city, but he's smart, and his family is educated, but he chose to rebel and run the streets, even dabbling briefly in pharmaceuticals and other unsavory dealings. He has a "Fuck the World" attitude, Miami-hood drawl and about 13 tattoos on his body, including a full head shot of his mother's face on his chest, with her name in cursive underneath. How sweet.

Hood Willy is a thug. He drives a car that screams, "Dope Boy," with it's blacked out tints and driver's seat leaned all the way back. He is always rocking a fitted cap and his LL-esque habit of lip licking keeps his gorgeous pink lips unusually moist. He is actually very cute, his pretty boy face belies the thuggish lifestyle he lives, but as soon as he opens his mouth. Oh yeah, homie is definitely from round the way.

Immediately, there was a mutual flirtation, which led to an invite to come by and "catch up," and within the First 48 ;-), we were sitting on my couch, sipping cognac, laughing and reminiscing on the old days--minutes away from fucking. He has a slick sense of humor, and kept me laughing and blushing, as this was only turning me on more. Did I mention, how cute he was? After the conversation slowed down to more suggestive subject matter, I peeped his bulge start to grow and he started rubbing circles on my thigh. It seemed like homie was scared to make the first move, so I stood up and asked him if we were going to do the damn thing or what? It didn't take a second before he was up on his feet and following me to the bed. I laid down and he licked his lips and then got between my legs to start to lick mine. He had mentioned to me how much he had liked to eat pussy, which typically raises alarms that he may have a small dick, but upon further inspection, it wasn't bad at all. It wasn't ginormous like Mr. Boombastic, but shawty knew how to work it!

Hood Willy ate my pussy for a long ass time. He made me cum over and over and every time I cam to enough to open my eyes, I caught his eyes locked on me. He hadn't stopped looking the whole time. You may remember me mentioning it before in a previous group post, but Mellow used to do that, and drive me fucking crazy! Hood Willy kept going at my pussy for about 3 orgasms and then starting moving his lips up my body, kissing my thighs, stomach, stopping to suck my nipples with a hungry man's voracity and then up to my lips, where I could still taste myself on his breath. Mmm.

Then he commenced to No, seriously, I had truly underestimated this guy. I never thought that I could be pleased by a dick less that 10 inches. Hood Willy proved that he could get it in. And in. And in! He had your girl gone. At one point, I think he was fucking me so hard, some of his ghetto transferred to me and I yelled, in my best 'Shanequa' accent, "Oh shit! I'm FINNA cum!"

When I rode his dick, he pulled me down to lean over him so that he could return to assaulting my nipples. We kissed deep and sloppy and then I sat up, bucking my hips and riding his dick like a pro. I was working it so hard, when I looked down at his chest, his mother's face seemed to be raising her eyebrows at me, as if to say, "You better not hurt my baby, hussie!" I tried to tune out his mother's stern-looking stare as I brought the last one home and collapsed onto his chest.

After we finished, we lay there catching our breath, both surely wondering how we got from two 3rd grade friends to this. But who cared? I threw him a towel and he wiped off his balls-region and got dressed. I threw on a shirt and we had one more drink before I sent him home. Before he got downstairs to his car he was already texting me about when would be the next time he could come lay it down.

It was great, and did I mention....I'm Back!!

Have you ever had a craving for some "thug passion"?

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Opening up

I'm sick. Cared for. Fed a hefty medicine cup full of Nyquil, covered in a methol-eucalyptus rub, tucked under blankets and asleep. Then I'm not. I'm awake. And I can hear them on the bed next to me. Her whispering. He asking. A call and response I know well. A year ago I might have smiled. Turned over. Joined. A year ago, I would not be listening or wondering, calculating the meaning behind the hushed words.

It was my idea. My request. It was I who convinced him four years ago, that our relationship should be open. Me. Soaked in Deborah Anapol, Dossie Easton and Tristan Taormino. Arguing the perils of monogamy. Me. No longer willing to allow a dominant discourse to dictate the way I lived my life. No longer willing to be a victim of infidelity. Choosing, I felt, mind over matter. The power of my intellect to rule my heart. Believing a higher understanding would to guide us to a place where we could truly be happy. Committed. And free?

He believed me. I believed myself. We soldiered forward. I laid in our bed watching him, devour our first, then second, third. I knew finally, for certain that I was okay. No longer theoretical, it held. Then a girlfriend. His. Mine. His. Mine. Almost ours. It was as I envisioned. Mostly. Ego intact. Loving just as deep. Free?

Next to me on the bed. View obscured by the edge of a pillowcase I hear them. Heart beating loudly in my chest, breath caught, I can feel the sensation awakened in the pit of my stomach, dormant so long, yet familiar and always unwelcome. Fear. Jealousy? Is there a meaning here I can't see? Wrapped up in their words, in his thrusts, in her moans, in her acquiesce to everything he utters, in her words, is there more? A question to which the answer is known. Yes.

They are finished. And he turns toward her, twists his body into hers. Legs covering, head on chest. Sighs. She gets up and walks into our bathroom. I have held myself still. Now. I turn. Grab a glass of water. Drink. Lay my head back down on my pillow. Close my eyes and beg for sleep. Did I do that so that I could take a breath? Did I do that so he would know? I heard?

In the morning, feeling his hands on my thighs, pulling down my pajama bottoms, stroking me, asking permission in his way, I ask myself. Is it a sense of fairness that propels him? Or. Is it because he craves me? Is It wanting?!And I cannot believe at once, that the question was asked. I cannot. And more, I cannot believe that the answer is unknown.

I betrayed my husband. And now he loves his girlfriend. As I love mine. And everything. Is different.

How do you find your way...when everything is lost?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friday, January 21, 2011

We Crossed the Line

So I tried and failed to be just his friend. We'd been spending too much time together talking, hanging out and discussng the problems in his relationship. I lent him my ear and then unfortunately my tongue.

Two weeks ago, on a Tuesday, we were driving home and he put his hand on my leg. I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my leg and I just knew we were going to exchange our first kiss. "Ring Ring," the phone rang and it was his girlfriend. I took that as a sign and we didn't discuss this exchange on Wednesday but each day things seem to get progressively worse in terms of crossing the line. Last week Thursday, while hanging out, we crossed the line in a major way.

After, he asked me how I felt? I didn't know how to respond. I honestly replied that I enjoyed it. Yet there was something a bit unsettling.

I don't know what to think. We might always want to do this.

Will he think of me differently? Will he think differently of the friendship potential? Can we go back and act like this never happened?

We crossed the line. I'm in shock.

I feel guilty. Can I still rationalize that we haven't had sex? This is not fair. This has got to stop. Definitely. Maybe.

What am I afraid of? I'm afraid we've crossed the line of no return. I'm afraid our friendship has been jeopardized. I'm afraid he'll enjoy this portion of our connection so much he'll seek it elsewhere (think jumpoff vs girlfriend); I'll be out of the loop and our "relationship" will suffer. I'm afraid I've pushed him into an uncomfy zone - one where he'll need to back away while he figures things out. I'm afraid I may have jeopardized a good-on-its-way-to-great relationship.

I'm afraid to share these feelings with him because I don't want to increase his load. I know my role as the Other Woman and I'm not sure it allows for this level of emotions and relationship-esque dealings. Last night I misted up and felt a wave of sadness when he said we would not and could not have sex because he could not go that far. I don't have the right to have these kind of emotions and place demands on him. The fact that I do scares me.

I may need to back away while I figure things out and allow for him to do the same. To be clear, I'm not referring to backing away from the friendship just the benefits.

I wonder how he feels.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The Other Woman

Being the other woman is not easy. It is a lonely existence. Most people don't understand and are not willing to be open-minded. I don't blame them, I used to be on the same page until I crossed over.

My guy is not MY guy. He belongs to another. Our casual friendship spans about a year and our deeper friendship, a few months. Things are getting heated. While we have not crossed the line, we are certainly in emotional cheating territory because he has a girlfriend.

Even as just his "friend," I feel I am playing the role of The Other Woman. He lives with his gfriend and I can't text or call too late or too often. This should not be a problem because we are just friends. We ARE just friends. We are supposed to be just friends. I think if I say (write) it enough it will be true. I hope.

As adults we are expected and empowered to make decisions that can change our lives and impact the lives of many. Some decisions as simple as going to work or others, like deciding not to encroach on another woman's relationship.

On one hand, I feel it's my duty as a black woman, Christian and a person who believes in the Golden Rule, to steer another woman's man in the right direction. At the minimum, to not help him have an affair. Definitely not to be the person he has an affair with. It shouldn't matter that the couple may be having problems, or that my intentions are "innocent," or that neither of us are "looking for something serious." On the other hand, is HIS relationship really my problem? I'm not trying to be disrespectful - I'm just living in the moment. Our friendship makes my days just a bit brighter.

What would I like done to me? Probably not what I am doing. How do I separate my moral beliefs from my carnal desires? I don't know.

He is sitting next to me as I blog. I feel an electric connection.

My pussy yearns.

My heart skips a beat.

Although, I take deep breaths. I can't breathe. Can't get enuf oxygen.

I just want to hug him. Hold him. Kiss him. Taste him. Make love to him. Fuck him.

"Breathe," I tell myself as I type feverishly in an effort to get this all out.

I will be his friend. I will be his friend. I will be his friend.

I will try to be just his friend.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Have I lost my mind!?!?

Happy New Year!

One of my resolutions is to be more communicative on this blog. I'd like to learn more about our readers and reconnect with my fellow bloggers. It is with this spirit that I share my dilemma and ask for your advice.

I think I have lost my f'ing mind. My relationship with one of my coworkers, has truly crossed the line. We are sharing inappropriate text messages and images. We are even planning an "outing" to two local swingers clubs so we can "observe" and laugh at other people.

My recent nickname for this coworker is Teddy because I imagine his body, especially his developed muscles, wrapped tightly around me.

Thus far, Teddy and I have been platonic, though his live-in girlfriend has vehemently expressed discomfort with our closeness. Funny enough, Teddy and I only hang out at work (though sometimes for hours after our official days have ended), talk on the phone and text each other. We haven't kissed or caressed or done anything physical. Well nothing short of me coping a feel by poking or shoving him.

Truth be told, what I really want to do is hug my "Teddy" bear tight, kiss his neck, lick his ear, slide my hand up his back to behind his ear and then push/pull his head closer to mine for a kiss and much more. I'm at a dangerous stage of desiring to spend a long night or better yet, a weekend with him.

Whereas in the past, I just wanted him to eat my pussy. I didn't wanna fuck. Wasn't interested in any other foreplay - no nipple pinching, no kissing, fuck caressing. Nothing, nada but straight pussy feasting. I used to get moist just thinking about his hands brushing against my hips as he stripped me of my panties. All I wanted was for his face to be buried deep in between my legs - slurping, sucking, tugging, licking my walls CLEAN. Leaving no trace of my sweet nectar. When I was done and had nothing more to give vaginally, I wanted him to plant a loud kiss signaling the end of his vaginal meal, followed by him orally engraving his name on my thighs using sweet kisses and nibbles. Though very appealing, these sexual thoughts are bound to get me in trouble!

The problem is that I have a husband and Teddy has a girlfriend. Though my partner and I are open, I don't want to bring this to him....just yet. As open as we are, I can't imagine hubby approving the outings to two swinger clubs that Teddy and I have planned. So instead we both plan to hide this from our partners. I feel (know??) that I am kidding myself - "everyone knows" how this story is likely to end but MAYBE Teddy and I will be able to just "observe" and talk shit all night.

Ever been on a slippery slope that you know will most likely only lead to trouble?? Did you manage to get off? What should I do??