When Somebody Loves You Back
Page 27
Glancing in the misty mirror, she saw he was handsome. Sexy. Beautiful. They looked good having sex. “You’re a passionate lover,” she complimented, watching them fuck like the free-spirited animals they were.
“Not passionate. Attentive. I’m attentive to everything I decide to do. Like doing you.”
“Umm,” she moaned, as he pushed the first inch inside. “Slow down, I’m gonna cum too fast!” she yelled just as he pushed in another inch.
A store clerk walked over and said, “Y’all can’t do this here.”
Her lover kept stroking as if no one had spoken. “Passion requires attachment. I don’t like attachments.”
Thrusting her ass into his pelvis, she’d definitely picked the right man. Men. The clerk was a hot and sexy mocha man. “Give me your dick,” she insisted.
“Who?” he asked, looking around.
“Give it to her, man, before it’s too late, ’cause I’ma about to bust a nut,” Sexy Chocolate grunted.
Easing his dick from under his apron, he said, “Here,” placing his erection in her hand.
“Nice. Stand right here in front of me. Better yet, hand me that can of whipped cream.” Lubing her hand with cream, she rhythmically stroked the clerk while Sexy Chocolate penetrated deep inside her. “Yes! Fuck me!” she yelled to Sexy Chocolate, stroking the clerk’s dick harder.
“Oh my. I don’t believe this is happening,” Sexy Chocolate said.
“I’m gonna explode in your ass.” Reaching between her thighs, he grabbed her pussy and massaged her clit.
Faintly she said, “Not yet.”
The clerk’s large hands cupped both her titties firmly then pinched her nipples.
“Oh yeah. I’m cumming!” she screamed as Sexy Chocolate pumped and pumped. Her pussy juices flowed onto his fingers as he stroked faster. “Don’t stop. Fuck me! Harder!”
Every time he penetrated her, she stroked the clerk faster. Looping her other hand between the clerk’s thighs, she bypassed his nuts, frantically finger-fucking him. His dick was nice and plump. Thick white cum flowed out of his hole down his shaft, and onto her hand.
“Oh, shit!” Sexy Chocolate yelled.
“Oh, shit,” she echoed in unison with the clerk.
Repeatedly, they took turns yelling while cumming together. Her body orgasm shot from her toes to her head, then deep inside her rectum.
Sexy Chocolate massaged her back. “Whew! I gotta shop here more often.”
“I gotta get back to work. Thanks for, whew!” the clerk said, walking away.
Standing, she tilted her head back, breasts forward, her hair flowing back, and her eyes rolling to the top of her lids. Mr. Attentive slung the best dick she’d ever had. Her pussy spasms continued as she kept cumming after he’d eased his dick out.
Sexy Chocolate moaned, “I feel you. I’m still leaking.”
The clerk returned, waving several paper towels under the mist, then handed them to her and waved. She dabbed her pussy, then patted Sexy Chocolate’s face. Fanning the flap of her dress in his direction, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. I needed that.” Shaking her hair behind her shoulders, she walked away slowly, swaggering her hips.
Sexy Chocolate yelled, “Hey, wait a minute! What’s your name?”
Slowly turning around, she smiled, winked, then disappeared into the sunshine.
THE AVERAGE BLACK MAN
by Honey B.
The average black man is an underachiever.
Although the average black man possesses intellect and talent beyond measure to excel at whatever he commits to, he won’t fully apply himself. He expects his woman to treat him like his mother.
“My mama used to work, clean the house, and cook dinner every day.”
I ask, “Is that something for a black man to be proud of?” perpetuating a system that denounces his manhood.
The average black man has expectations of everyone except himself. He wants his money like his women, fast, easy, and sometimes sleazy, so he’s willing to get his hustle on—have a kid or two, somebody else’s wife will do—as long as he’s not required to break a sweat or pay a debt like child support because he’s too worried about the black woman getting ahead of him.
‘“I don’t know what she’s doing with my money.”
“Try being a man and raising your own kids, honey.”
He doesn’t realize the black woman was ahead of him well before she met him. Now because of his setback, she’s working overtime to get back what she had before she met him.
The average black man will do more for the white man than he’ll ever do for the black woman, all along despising both because neither respects him, primarily because he doesn’t respect himself. A lie is easier to tell than the truth. Abusing his woman is the fastest way to raise his self-esteem. It’s easy for the black man to become a user, using his mother, wife, family, friends, women, and strangers for one common purpose, all to meet his needs.
When the truth is the average black man doesn’t know what he needs, let alone wants. “I want her, and her, and her, and her, but I don’t want her to find out about her so I’ll lie to them all because I love my wife.”
The average black man substitutes his needs with greed to by any means necessary buy a fancy car to get classy women who are foolish enough to pay the note in order to let some other woman take the ride, all along kidding herself into believing that she’s his prize until she’s “surprised!”
The average black man cultivates his own demise. “I’m the king of my castle,” he might say when his name is nowhere indeed on the deed. “I’m the king of my throne,” he may shout, but if the black woman puts his ass out, he’s gone, alone, and has no home. So what he does is uses another black woman to have his back.
“If I need a place to stay, can we shack?”
When what he’s really saying is, “Just in case the one I’ve got finds out about you, you’ll have to do until I find somebody new.”
The average black man has got to, like Spike Lee said in School Daze, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” And since the average black man won’t read this message because he’s sleepwalking through his life, I have to speak to the sistas and say it’s time that you find “a man” who will love, cherish, and respect you, but you must first respect yourself. You see, when the black woman stops settling, the average black man will rise above minimum wage, denounce his minimalist attitude, stand tall, proud, and take center stage.
The average black man is a king…king…king…king. But he doesn’t act like royalty.
I wish I could write a play about the average black man, but this is all too real. I sincerely hate the way I feel when I tell the average black man he’s not good enough. No, no, no, in no way am I stuck up, but I refuse to let him fuck up or fuck me. For free. They say shit comes in threes, and if dissolution, more like disillusion, of marriage can dissolve before my eyes, to Halle, to Terry, then I know it can happen to any woman.
You see, I refuse to settle for the sour milk in the average black man’s cheddar. I don’t need to repeat someone else’s mistakes because I know I can do better, or shall I say the average black man can do better? But he won’t, if we don’t require him to.
These days, I’m hella direct, almost to a fault. I don’t like wasting my time, so I’ll look a man in his eyes and say up front, “If you’re not paying for our dates, don’t ask me out.” If he can’t afford the meal, he can’t enjoy the thrill.
I’ll also say, “Drop your drawers, I need to do a dick check.” I’m checking for a few things: length, thickness, responsiveness, and ultimately, cleanliness. Three out of four won’t do. I am going to do the sniff test, place my hand directly in front of my face, and inhale. No sour balls allowed. He might say what the heck? but like it or not I gets my respect. He’ll come correct or he won’t cum at all. It’s not what you do, it’s how you do it. I love having fun so I am quite comical, at times.
Ladies, before that first date, get a few questions
off your plate:
What’s your vision for life?
You got a wife?
Cohabiting?
Involved in a relationship?
Live with your mama?
Got any baby mama drama?
How many kids do you have?
Have you ever let a man fuck you in your ass?
Girlfriends, don’t be afraid to question men. Chances are, the average black man has more excuses, justifications, hesitations, and falsifications than direct answers. So, I say unto my sistas, stop lying for the black man because we are partially to blame for enabling them. And if you’re like me, you’re handling all the responsibilities, financial and otherwise, on your own, so don’t take on any additional liabilities.
The average black man will abandon his woman, then say it was her fault that he left. Sistas, be smart about your money. Please do not share bank accounts with your man, never again put your money in his hand, do not freely hand him the keys to your car, and please do make sure you get paid before he gets laid.
The average black man is quick to lay claim to all your material things and he’ll gladly lend you his name if you buy the rings. But let him get a dollar and all you’ll hear is, “Holla at a playa when you see me on the street,” on his way out the door. Why deal with infidelity and insecurity, then turn around and get married? There are too many married women housing Single Husbands, but that’s a whole book I’m working on.
As for right now, my sistas, it’s time for women to become empowered. Don’t hesitate to overlook the average black man, because the average black man doesn’t give a damn about you. Think I’m lying? File for divorce. Ask for child support without taking him to court. It’s time to cross over to a real man (black or other) who will love you for you. From this day forward, quit digesting bullshit.
I say unto all my sisters, irrespective of race…because a man sees no color when he hates (or dislikes) himself, find and keep at least three good men and call them all friends. Then do what I do. Tell them all, “I love you, too.”
Last but not least, starting from the inside out, be outrageously great to yourself. A man should never have to treat a woman better than she treats herself.
Until the Honey Bee stings again, remember, “You are what you eat…so stay sweet.”
POETRY CORNER
Dear God
Since You gave Your only son
To wash away our sins
Then where does purgatory fit in
Dear God
Since You are the only perfect One
And You sacrificed Your son to forgive our sins
Then where does the guilt trip begin
If you don’t tithe ten percent
If you fornicate
If you don’t honor your mother and father
Sin, sin, sin
Some of Your soldiers
Christians if You may
Believe they’re going to heaven
Yet they sin every day
Their justifications seem so odd
When they sternly point their finger
Yes, I know that I’m a sinner
But surely you must see
That I’m a Christian and I’m saved
So regardless God loves me
Why does the leader, the pastor
Who’s suppose to deliver Your word
Doesn’t hear his own preaching
Doesn’t practice his own teaching
If God is the only true Savior
Why do Allah, Jehovah, and Buddha exist
Why do men pray one day
Slay the next
Then after they’ve done their dirty work
They wash their hands for You
In light of all the failed marriages God
What happens to the woman who decides not to be a wife
Not to procreate
Rear a child by herself
Yet her sex life
Is great
Why does man easily yield to temptation
Overwhelming enjoying the sensation
Screams Your name during orgasms
Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God
Is that a sin
What if he repents
Then does it again
Dear God
If no one can ever be perfect
Why do we strive for perfection
If everyone sins
And nobody ever wins
Does that mean close enough is good enough
To enter the gates of heaven
Back to the guilt trip, Lord
Why should anyone worry
If all one has to do
Is confess with their mouth
And believe in their heart
Then wait for the day they’ll see You
Is there a back door for atheists to creep through
We’re taught to believe
That because of our sins
One day the world will come to an end
If that’s true
Dear God
The last question is
Why did life ever begin
DAMN YOU
My hormones are escalating
As I watch the imprint of your dick
Growing down your thigh
Penetrating
Your denims
Wishing I was in ’em
My eyes linger imagining
How would it feel to hit it
Lick it
Kiss it
Suck it
The truth is
I want to fuck it
Fuck you
But our relationship is new
Right?
I exhale
Two inches from your lips
My hips
Curl into your dick
And I feel your throbbing head
Pressing against my clit
Shit!
My tits
Are tingling
Co-mingling
With my libido
This is a conspiracy
I’m sure you know
Your theory
Is working
Softly I exhale
Not remembering if I ever inhaled
But what the hell
Your smell
Is making me cum
Closer
To you
But I can’t submit to my appetite
Because our relationship is new
Right?
Your tongue emerges
Filling the gap between our lips
Pulling me closer
You sit
Instinctively I straddle your lap
We’re face-to-face
Our rapid breaths chasing one another
While my pussy secretly keeps the pace
Quietly
I want to be your lover
You ease my dress over my hips
Over my head
Then toss it next to us
On your bed
Your lips caress my nipples
At the same time
Your head presses against my clit
And my pussy dribbles
Onto your denims
Wising I was in ’em
I exhale
Not remembering if I ever inhaled
But what the hell
I’m feeling you
Damn
What should I do
Our relationship is new
Right?
I lose focus
My pussy is tight
I can’t wait another minute
To hit it
Lick it
Kiss it
Suck it
It’s time
Aw, yeah
It’s time for me to
For me to
Fuck you
All right?
I’m taking your dick out of your pants
And into my hands
I want you so bad, man
My hips curl you
>
Into
My vagina
I exhale
Aw
Yes
Um-hum
Not remembering if I ever inhaled
Your dick is the best
I say taking control
Leading you way down inside my soul
I fuck you nice and slow
Then ride you hard-core
Squeezing teasing and pleasing
Until you explode like a rocket
Deep inside my pulsating pussy pocket
Seems like we cum forever
Together
We whisper together
Damn you
Damn you
Damn you
Is all we can say
As we lay
I inhale
In a matter of moments
Our relationship grew
But if I would’ve known
Your dick was that good
I would’ve fucked you
On date number two
Goddamn you
WHEN SOMEBODY LOVES YOU BACK
Hopeless
Helpless
Your stomach churns
Restless
Sleepless
You toss and turn
Angry
Depressed
Your soul burns
When one gives more than one receives
Incomprehensible
Indispensable
Often unmentioned
There is no
Democracy of reciprocity
Nor meeting point that’s halfway
Love with your head
Think with your heart
Every single day
Believing everyone will be
Okay
I AM EVERYBODY
I am everybody
But everybody is not me
Violated by the master
I am Jewish, you see
Born in Louisiana
So there is French in me
I am Irish