blessed

i stir from sleep
as Seb moves beneath the sheets
and between my legs.
the perfect wake up call.

it’s been a weekend of sex.
empty gatorade bottles and condom wrappers litter my floor.
the air smells of it,
our skin tastes of salt.

get closer, get closer
lean on me now, lean on me now

I count my blessings having Him around.
1 2 3 4 … I could go on forever.

I love that I can say nothing and you know everything.
I love that you play with the tight curls of my hair.
I love that you smile when you sleep.
I love that your eyes say more that your words.
I love that you love me more than any man has.
I love that I love you more than I have loved any other man.
I hate that I do the hurtful things that I do.
But most of all I would hate if you ever found out.

We lay about my bed. Limbs tangled.
I hear him breath softly has he sleeps and my mind wanders.
I watch him smile off in his dreams.
My phone beeps
message pending

It’s D. Call me. We need to talk.

My heart sinks, and so it begins.

November 23, 2007. C'est Moi, memory, men, sex. 2 comments.

quick quick

we have to be quick.
quick
quick

no time for pleasantries.
no time for sweet words.

You pull up my skirt and rip at my stockings.
I tug at your belt and free you from you jeans.

I stride you, kissing you hard.
Your tongue in my mouth, our bodies pressed hard against each other.
I buck harder and harder, pull at your hair.
Your fingers dig in to my skin.

biting fucking biting fucking biting fucking

I scream soundlessly, your groans vibrate through my skin.
collapse on the floor
sweaty messy sweaty messy and wet

November 15, 2007. love, men, sex. 2 comments.

our fickle friend romance

an email addressed to me from a close friend
made me giggle a little
thought I should share it.

It’s fair to say that I know nothing of romance. I can not pretend that I am an expert as I barely understand its definition.

Romance

Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): ro·manced; ro·manc·ing

To try to influence or curry favor with especially by lavishing personal attention, gifts, or flattery
I have found it rather difficult to locate romance.  Here amongst the urban landscape the city seems to laugh at me.  Despite the life that surrounds me I can not help but feel cold as I brush up against bitter strangers and the daily grinds of day to day. But fear not darling I will not let my dreary thoughts of romance in any way shape today’s topic.

Romance: Friend or Faux?

Let’s be serious for a moment shall we.  When was the last time you were swept off your feet? How long ago was a smile and a dozen roses brought to your door? Perhaps, a singing telegram? Or a thoughtful poem? It has been a while huh? That is what I thought. Here are three ways to bring more romance to a relationship, courtesy of my MOTHER.

  1. Flash him: Yes, you read right. FLASH HIM. Make sure you remind him/her of your God given goods. You know in case he/she have forgotten. This works best in public. PUBLIC.
  2. Make a Mix Tape: Apparently I will not really appreciate love with out a mix tape. a.mix.tape. That means you won’t either, when was the last time you got a fucking love tape? Who still uses tape??
  3. Seduce with Scent: I want you to end my life.

 

Today’s helpful hints brought to you by the matron on Zoloft.
My Madres, a woman in possibly the most toxic relationship in history avec the man I call my father (and of course his current mistress).

Next week: The Orgasm. Fact or Fiction?

 

XOXO
SP.

November 3, 2007. Tags: . C'est Moi, Uncategorized. 1 comment.

night night

RL is in the next room.
As I type this.
The very next room
she is with D.
I can barely hear muffled conversation.

I press my ear against the door
once
twice.

We are at D’s place.
RL found us here
alone
together.
Thankfully not caught yet.
Or do I want to get caught.

Caught with D’s thigh between mine
pressed up against the wall
biting his lip
as I always do.

RL opens the door

“night night” she says.

With a wave she closes the door behind her.
We are safe
safe for another night.

D comes in now.

*

I am lying on my floor in superman boy shorts,
smoking a stale benson
as Seb flicks his tongue across my nipple.

“your skin is dark” he says

“dark as night?” I ask.

“dark as night.” he replies with a sharp suck and a teasing smile.

November 1, 2007. C'est Moi, dating, love, men, sex, Uncategorized. Leave a comment.