Crossing Borders

As the Johnny Walker Black on the rocks swished around in my mouth before slipping down my throat, I wondered what she tasted like. As some of the drink spilled down my chin I imagined it being her juices. I imagined her thighs wrapped around my face, her pussy pulsating between my lips under the coaxing of my tongue. I could smell her across the room; she smelt like Vanilla and Lust. I tried to keep it together, to keep her from noticing me trying to stop looking at the rise of her breasts; the smoothness of the skin where her cheek meets her neck meets her shoulders. I bit my lips as I watched through hazy rose colored glasses as a smile spread across her face. I’m jolted by the sound of her laughter, wishing it was me making her scream out in ecstasy. 

I don’t know how the fuck this happened-- Or when I started craving her presence, her attention, her company. One minute we were strangers, then acquaintances, now secret lovers. It only took one night of liquid truth, one night of reckless abandon, and one night of seeing where the moment takes us. It happened so suddenly, so innocently. 

She told me I had nice lips. I blushed graciously. She said she bet they were soft and sweet. I licked them inadvertently. She told me I was being a tease. I smiled apologetically. She said she really wanted to kiss me. I paused. 

And before I knew it, her lips were on mine. Her kiss was earnest yet soft, inviting yet commanding. I was pulling her body towards me and slowly delving deeper into her mouth, her tongue caressing mine like a forgotten lover. And while I may have been startled, I was all in. The blood rushed to my head like a kiss from an old flame, but it was brand new. Half way through I had this moment of clarity, this moment of we shouldn’t be doing this… but as quickly as it came it was gone. I surrendered to the kiss reveling in the perfect passion that was this unforeseen moment. I acted with total disregard of consequence. Like a naïve teenager on prom night wondering nine months later how did I get here? That’s the thing about crossing lines, they’re like foreign borders, and the rules are always different on the other side. 

And now I find myself craving her, like a drug. Like an addict in recovery, I crave her and simultaneously tell myself-- NO MORE!! I have to stop THIS. THIS can’t end well, THIS can’t go anywhere, THIS can’t-- this CAN’T—THIS CAN’T--! 

But the truth is I can’t! 

I can’t stop wanting her. I can’t stop craving her. I can’t stop smelling her even when she’s not near me. I can’t stop fantasizing about our kisses, our soft touches. I can’t stop wondering what her inner soft sweetness tastes like or what she would sound like moaning my name, begging me to stop, or better, to keep going. 

Honestly, I CAN’T!

And I want to stop trying. To stop fighting whatever it is between us that keeps pulling us together; that keeps her blushing like a school girl in my presence. That keeps us doing this dance despite all of the risk, despite all of the potential consequence. 

I feel like saying fuck it We're grown! What's to stop us... Fuck the consequence of others, and their feeligs and their LOVE? Just embrace it all; to float through this Wonderland with the same reckless abandon that got me here and hope that nine months from now I know just how I got there.

Wherever that is…

But I CAN'T...


Because we are grown, and there will surely be consequence of this LOVE. Consequence larger than us... And so as I toss and turn these hot summer nights, hands tucked between hot moist thighs these next few days, weeks, months-- writhing in the reality of my withdrawals-- I'll have only the memory of what was and the reality of what should be. And as order is restored our passion that we shared will be but a vague memory; a glance across a room, a bitten lip and smile. Merely traces of what almost was... Consequence.

weight

to say that communication is essential in all relationships is almost to be cliche. 

how we say things, how we hear them, how what is heard informs what happens nexts, this is all central to being in relationship with those around us and being "in relationship" is hard shit. i'm a relationship therapist. it would be easy for me to assume i'd get this right. every time. i should be an amazing communicator. a bit startling to realize even how, how often i get it wrong. 

sometimes i will sit with clients, examining their situation, identifying (with them) opportunities for doing something different, i'll hear things come out of my mouth and wonder who is speaking. it surely isn't the woman whose marriage is ending. it can't be the woman whose second suddenly became primary. the one who is deeply grieving. I want to know so much now about what could have been different. what i missed. what i didn't hear. where i could have made a u-turn and somehow manifested everything i wanted? something other than this split?

a mentor told me recently that beneath every conflict, every painful disaggrement, every misheard or misunderstood intention, is the trampling of a hope, dream or value deeply held. it must be then that i crushed his hopes for us...and my own. it must be...that our dreams fell out of step with each other...that our values collided. until i could no longer find him, nor he me. 

beginning anew from here, in this quiet space where nothing is certain and nearly everything hurts -there is sun still. i feel it on my face every morning when I wake up. I allow it to make promises. I allow this, because want so much to believe them. 

communicating is still hard. however painful this is, whatever lessons i should have learned i fail now too. and the burden is greater now. who could have guessed with all that has been lost, there would still be weight. 

i know now that is possible to lose from here 

is my own self. 

Shit. Damn. Motherfucker!

First of all, let me take a moment to acknowledge that it has been dick long since I posted and for that, I apologize. Plenty of personal shit going on..yadda, yadda, yadda. Now, I'm back! And with that, let the fuckery begin...

Shit.

I met this dude through professional connections. I had acknowledged his sexiness a while ago, but since he was a colleague of sorts, I never flirted with him or otherwise paid him much attention. One day, we were at a "work thing" and by the end of the day, he had asked for my number. Later that night, he called and asked for something else. I was a little taken aback by his forwardness, but I definitely found him to be a smashable candidate, so I played along to see where it would go.

We made plans to hang out on the weekend, and we did. Had very stimulating (non-sexual) conversation...the guy was intelligent, mature, single and hot as fuck! Things were definitely looking up. By the time we retired to the bedroom, I was mentally smitten and ready to see if he would measure up in bed. And...sweet jesus...did he measure up! He started by making me strip for him and then had me bend over so he could suck the "what the fuck?!" out of my pussy. He was using a glass dildo-like object in my pussy while licking it and then he moved up to my asshole and proceded cause me to be numb from the waist down. Just when I was close to collapsing, he flipped me over and attempted to go back in. I had to buy myself some time to regain my composure, so it was the perfect opportunity to have him lay on his back and whip out my fantastic fellatio skills.

Not to pop my own collar *pop, pop*, but I know how to suck some dick. I was so gone from the awesome head game he just put on me, I got more into it than usual and he was more than vocal with his appreciation of my skills. After what seemed like 30 minutes sucking his dick, as well as returning the ass-licking favor, he pushed me off of him and pulled me off the bed. He pushed me up against the wall and kissed me before forcefully pushing me back onto the bed. He made me lay there wondering for a few, long seconds before he rejoined me and began fucking. the living shit. out of me. It continued on like that for hours....

The next day, and every day after, he would call in the morning. Email throughout the day and call at night. We talked about sex, relationships, everyday shit..blah, blah, blah. It was cool. Now, when I first met him, because of his forwardness, I had assumed that this guy was trying to be a smash-buddy. That would have been absolutely fine by me. But, the way dude presented himself was as if he was trying to explore the options of something more. No labels had been established, though he did offer the information that I was the first chick he slept with in nearly a year (which I didn't believe at the time, and still don't believe now) and even went so far as to send me song lyrics and shit trying to get in my head.

Damn.

So, about a week in, I started raising my eyebrows about this dude. He had all the appearances of a potential "Mr. Right," but some things just weren't adding up. One of those things was when I called him for an unexpected "lunch" date and I went to his house for the first time. Aside from the fact that he didn't show me around the place, he also had "plumeria" scented hand wash and lotion in his guest bathroom. Now, I appreciate a pimp's game as much as a fellow pimp can, but, "Dude, you expect me to believe bitches ain't coming over here on the regular? Or that your mysterious ass don't live with some chick?" I asked him about it, he said it was "for the guests." Right, nigga. Let's just fuck so I can get back to work. Again, not knocking the hustle, knocking the liar.

Now, the next few incidents are things that I usually would have issued a Pink-slip for immediately. He made arrangements to come see me on three separate occasions and didn't call or show. I know, I know. This is when I should've told his ass to kick rocks, but the dick, coupled with the glimmer of hope, had me a bit off my game. Each time, he gave me some bullshit, eyebrow-raising excuse that me (and my tribunal of vixen friends) couldn't quite accept as legit. I was about done with his ass. At this point, there was one good week and one shitty week and I was not trying to roll the dice on the third week. But I did. Fuck. I did.

Motherfucker!

So...the perp sends me an email, pesudo-apologizing for his actions (but not really) and suggesting we spend a couple days together to get to know eachother better and putt the aforementioned shitty week behind us. At this point, I knew that there was a 50/50 chance this dude was going to further piss me off, but I was willing to take that gamble in attempt to fuck this dude and his magnificent dick one last time for the road. By now, I had already surmised that he was not potential partner material and I just wanted a nice fuck-filled weekend of fun and no dramatics. Not what happened.

He tells me he will arrive by 9. At 10:30, when he hadn't, I was already getting flashbacks to the previous week and was calling him to tell him to forget it and lose my number. He didn't answer. Then called 15 minutes later to say he was nearby and would be there shortly. By 11:30, I was fuming and I was prepared to tell him as soon as he got to my door to go back to his car and go the fuck home. But when he called to say he was downstairs, it was obvious he had been dropped off. I totally could've still kicked him out, but I was drunk, high and horny. Fuck it, I said.

He came in and very arrogantly glossed over his lateness, even insinuated that I was being ungrateful to the effort he made to come see me. (Right, you had to get a ride and shit...which I didn't know...because you never said you didn't have a whip...why? Because you are a liar) Sorry, I digress. Anyways. Now, I'm pissed. So I take a pill to relax, have some more liquor and spend the rest of the night fucking dude. It was good, but not nearly as good as the first time. Which, upon reflection, is because he had already revealed himself to be a major asshole, and not the sexy kind.

Everything came to a head the next day. We had fucked and sucked a little in the morning. His luggage and printed out party schedule made me think this guy really was planning to stay the whole weekend. I was trying to see if I could overlook his irreconcilable flaws, and just fuck the weekend away, but of course...he had to take ya girl there. Long, headache-inducing story cut short, after I had cooked us both breakfast, we got into an arguement that started over something minor--me telling him to log off of my computer. He not only ignored my request (as he sat there chatting it up with chicks on Facebook) but then told me, in an unacceptably loud voice, "What you need to do is eat your breakfast and get on the computer later! I'm doing something and what you have to do isn't that important!" He went on to call me selfish and I was thinking, Somebody please slap me because I KNOW this fool isn't a) disrespecting me in my house and b) sitting here eating food I cooked, using my computer and otherwise soaking up all my fucking hospitality without having the decency to come correct! I knew I was getting nowhere with this arrogant, audacious, insolent, rude and undeservedly cocky dude so, I made him an offer he couldn't refuse: "If you think I'm selfish. Or any other unfavorable characteristic. You can pack your shit up and get the fuck out of my house." Again, if he hadn't gotten dropped off, I would have put his ass out after we fucked the night before. And I told him that. He got up and didn't say a word as he put his plate in the kitchen, went in the room to gather his things, and left.

Good riddens, motherfucker!

Hey readers, tell me what you think about my latest fuckery-laced sexperience. Did ya miss me?

Now in the spirit of this story, please enjoy the smooth sounds of D'Angelo's "Shit, Damn, Motherfucker"

New Year. New Beginnings.

It's been a very long time since I posted. I was caught up in life and in a very private mode. I wanted to shelter my Reticent Amor (Secret Love) in hopes that it would last longer. I didn't want to hear anything negative from you, the readers. The few people in my personal life that I shared this relationship with had enough opinions, many of which I wasn't interested in hearing. Well the fact that we broke up is an example of what is meant to happen will happen. I didn't share my story with you and it ended anyway.

Another relevant saying is that all good things come to an end is true. We're over. I know I may have said that in my last post 5 mos ago (click here). LOL. But this time for real. We reconciled after that post and had ups and downs during that interim.

We broke up for good on 12/30. The reason? Irreconcilable differences. He felt I didn't love him enough and didn't go the extra mile that he needed. This issue was a recurring topic and I couldn't do anything to change his mind. In fairness, there was some truth to his feelings though no truth in not loving him enough or feeling that he wasn't worth it. We just has different ways of operating and he refused to believe in shades of gray regarding this area. Other contributors to our breakup included the complications related to a Reticent Amor - sneaking around, secret telephone lines, lying to friends and family, never being able to fully explore a normal (non secret) relationship.

So it's been almost 96 hours and I'm not sure how I'm holding up. He's asked me this question a number of times since our breakup and my answer has been consistent, "I don't know." The truth is that I'm numb. While I do believe our decision to end was a good choice, it's bittersweet. The sweetness is that I have an opportunity to reconnect with family, friends and most importantly myself. It's also sweet that neither of us was caught by our primary partners. The bitter is that we're ending a mostly fulfilling relationship. As he said, "when it was good, it was GREAT."

I'm not sure how to move on. How do I reconnect with me? For a year, he was my entire world. I spent every possible second dreaming about, talking about, talking to and spending time with him. Today, I ordered breakfast from my favorite diner and out of habit, also placed an order for him too. Only he wasn't joining me. SMH. Honestly I don't know how I'm going to deal with this. Based on the realm of positivity and a can-do attitude, I "know" that I'll be fine. Eventually. I'm just uncertain how long it will take me to get that place. I feel like I've lost one of my best friends. Our relationship was complicated but he was the one I shared the good and bad. He was my go-to person. Our relationship was about more than sex, which we rarely had. It was an emotional connection that seems hard to maintain in absence of a "relationship" though the foundation of our "relationship" was a friendship. I don't know...I just don't know.

What I do know is that I HAVE TO go on in a positive manner. Though, honestly I'd like to stay under the covers with no human contact for at least a week. My job and familial commitments don't allow for this luxury so I need to figure out a coping mechanism quickly. Thus far, I'm ignoring the situation but I know this solution can't last much longer. I shed my first tears today since the breakup but it was nothing significant. It hasn't hit me yet. I'm going to try to keep myself busy focusing on things that can help me. 2012 is a new year, with new beginnings. I put a lot on the backburner last year to focus on my now defunct relationship. Do I regret it? I don't know. I can't venture into that mental space right now. Instead I'm focusing on the future.

Have you ever had trouble dealing with a breakup? How did you handle it? Any advice for me???

Cooling Down

In the aftermath of last week's decision to not "love so hard," I feel weird.  How can you turn down your feelings for someone?  Unfortunately i'm not a faucet - things don't quite work that way.  

On some level, I feel at peace with our decision because I do believe it is what we both need. However, the prospect of actually implementing a cool down is scary.  What does it mean?  Does it mean that eventually we'll roll into friendship? Or less, since the majority of our relationship is emotional.  The stolen time we share is spent talking, eating and rarely sexing.  We kiss, we hug, we keep it relatively light and just enjoy each other's company.  

If I look at this objectively, we can still be good friends.  The dynamics will just change - not seeing each other as often or calling as much.  Not having such great expectations that are relationship-esque like expecting multiple calls a day, checking-in, dates, etc.  

So one part of me is welcoming of the prospect of having more time and space to focus on me and the things I've let go over the last few mos.  The other part of me is mourning the death of my relationship.  Well I guess only time will tell how this all plays out.  

Ever had to "cool down" your love for someone? Howdya do it?

I just wanna fuck

I. just. wanna. fuck.

I dont want to have any discussions about fucking.

Definitely don't wanna discuss hypotheticals about what could hinder our ability to fuck and how that could fucking hypothetically affect me.

Fuck all of that fucking talk.

Let's wait 'til we're in the fucking moment.

If we can fuck at that time then great.

Else we'll just have to move the fuck on.

MEN can be fucking annoying!


Have you ever just wanted to avoid the drama and fuck???