Reclaiming my spaces

Since baby daddy and I broke up, I have been on a mission to prove to myself that am fine and I don’t have any hang-ups about him. This was easier than I thought it would be especially because I knew he had not moved on. I guess a part of me felt that I was not sure of the choices I made regarding him and I needed to reassure myself that I was. I did what I always do, set my eyes on someone and let the flow take control of the situation. Little did I know that the person I had set my sights on would try to be controlling , possessive, jealous and a very complicated fling. Well, that didn’t last very long (for obvious reasons) and on the day I chose to call that quits a part of me was trying to convince itself that it was because I was comparing him to baby daddy. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, the important thing is that he was not the perfect fit for me. I NEED more, I CRAVE more and I DESERVE better.

Since then, I recently learned that baby daddy is seeing someone else. I made a point of chilling with her, she is an amazing woman with so much going for her. I was almost sucked into a void of jealousy til I remembered why I left him in the first place and suddenly I found myself drawn into a whirlpool of questions about their relationship. Questions that I have asked myself of every exes new relationship. Only this time, I was more worried about its effect on my child and not on the self. I found myself wondering how it would feel to have my daughter spending time with another woman in her dad’s life. How I would handle the situation when she is older and she can ask questions. Am I ready for all that? I could say I will cross that bridge when I get to it but I fear I will get to it faster than I can blink and if am not prepared I will have to drown before I can float. I do not make a pretty drowning victim so here I am jumping the gun before then because I suddenly realize I will get there. It is the consequence of my choices

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All the above has led to a new step in my process of self-awareness. It is no longer just about me, it is about everyone and everything around me. I have always gone through a phase of brooding between July and October, a planning and strategic phase from October to December and a phoenix rising from the ashes stage in January just to land at the self destructive phase in May. It was a cycle that I had never really tried to break thinking it was my internal process but now I feel the need, desire and challenge to step away from that path. It all started in January and I had seen me making progress but am now afflicted with a severe case of leave things as they are, let the universe sort it out. Let those who judge do so and start from that point of nothingness again. 

This journey of getting to know, understand, appreciate and care for the self sometimes left me feeling low, burdened and unable to make productive choices. But now that it is about being a mother, a sister, a daughter, a niece, a lover, a future aunt, step-mother and mother in law, I seem to not have a choice but to make choices. I can no longer be the Catty whose world was rocked by insecurities, demolished by passive aggressive behavior and controlled by passing emotions that would fade and leave behind a bittersweet taste in my mouth. I am a new, better and much improved version of myself.

In the spirit of being new and improved am having to look back to my vindictive, self righteous and pretentious self (yes, I know I was all those things and more) to try and decipher all that I was and how I came to be all that. I could always blame my absentee father or the mother I never thought loved me enough or the friends I felt I had to buy to keep but in all those situations, I am the common factor. My perceptions, fears, choices and above all the self I nurtured, cultured and grew turned me into the girl I was and I woman I became. I have been many things to myself but the word kind does not come to mind. I have been good to myself for all the wrong reasons and neglected all the right reasons. Breeding a sophisticated and intricate web of lies for myself that have many a time left me wondering if I was fooling those around me or just myself.

It is a painful process to know myself because I have had to contend with so many make believes sometimes am not sure which is the honest to God truth. Am not saying I now have the answers, am just acknowledging that I have fallen short. I have a duty to become better, make myself believe in something bigger, make that something bigger and better come true but how does one go about doing all the above when one can scarcely accept what they have become?

Mandingo was the pet name of my short-lived lover. It suited him. He was a stud in bed (when I could let myself get off) and I was sure no emotions were going to arise in him out of our fling. It was fun when I would let it be and complicated when I needed it to be. He would hate me for saying it but, it was convenience that brought us together and a lack of that tore us apart. He like so many other lovers before him were serving a purpose. You could cal it providing a service but that would be far-fetched considering my needs were not met half the time. I had a moment of disillusion while I was with him, I thought if I slept with someone else, I would feel empowered again to let it go on so I paid someone to give me a good f****** but even that didn’t make it any better. It’s exhilarating to think of my life as a film, it would entertain so many but in the same breath is trepidation as to how little anyone would understand me based on the choices I have made and paths I have taken. It’s one thing to be an onlooker and another to have been a participant. I have been a character straight out of a book unable to write my own book. It is amazing how much power words have. Mine have had far greater reaching effects than I would care to admit yet now in hindsight am faced by the glaring truth.

I have had more than enough people ask me why I stopped writing. I tell them I stopped writing for the world. But the truth is, I stopped writing because I could not absorb what I was writing. It became a way of me evading the facts of my life instead of it being a way of expressing myself. I would be floating on clouds one minute while writing then be trapped somewhere in the bowels of the earth trying to embrace what I had put down. I needed a redeeming quality and I thought I would find it in motherhood but I unearthed that I was not digging my way north but further south. Do not get me wrong, it is a heady feeling embracing her in my arms, feeling all the love that I have to offer finding someone worth it to bestow. Nevertheless, having a child takes a lot out of you.

Am claiming back my power to write. To express my resentment, frustrations, love, passion, antagonism, appreciation and all the other emotions that course through me. Because writing made me, a better person and am in dire need of that better me. Am reclaiming my space within myself the best way I know how. No facade, no presumptions and no more cowering. It is not just about me anymore, it is about Everyone and Everything around me.

Scary Realizations

I have been trying to figure out why am unable to maintain my blog. It has been haunting me for a while now and it was getting to me. Well, last night I had a major breakthrough as to the reasons and the thinking process behind the reasons.

It’s been a while since I was last truly honest on my blog. I have taken to speaking and writing in parables and the realization that this is probably the main reason why am unable to write makes me unhappy. I started this blog with so much honesty, willing to talk about my life and the people who have crossed my path and to come to the conclusion that am scared of the repercussions of sharing what’s going on in my life has me thinking perhaps am not as happy go lucky and content as I have been portraying.

Therefore,…here goes a stab at honesty…

I broke up with my baby daddy. That was hard; actually, it was harder than I ever thought it would be. I really did love him. First man I have been in love with in forever. Teenage ‘love’ affairs not counted as truly being in love. It was what I needed at that time in my life and I had great faith that it was a love that would last forever. Instead, it proved to be my undoing. He would say all that I needed to hear do what I needed done. In the same breath, turn around, say, and do things that broke me into pieces, just for him to collect them and try to piece me back together. A cycle as dysfunctional as the heart wrenching relationships I have had with women.

I thought I deserved better thus my leaving. Am proud of that choice, but in all honesty, the prospect of raising a daughter without a father scares me. She could turn out better than I have and never go looking for him or she could do worse and go out into the world with a daddy complex that would make me distraught. Just for her, I am maintaining a relationship with him and letting him get to know her and vice-versa. For the sake of all that is good, true and honest, I hope they have a great relationship and she is the best person she can be.

That being said, I have been leading on a sweet child. She is beautiful and kind and she has the ability to make me wet. However, we have not had sex. It’s not that am not interested, I just don’t want to break anymore hearts when I have nothing more to offer than an occasional roll in the hay. I like to think I have a good heart and honest intentions with everyone in my life but sometimes I forget where that goodness is and get lost in my own desires. Sometimes we talk all serious but even as we talk, I know am blowing air. I do not feel it in my bones.

I am looking for quick thrills and long hard fucks. It sounds wrong, but how can I want more when every time I get it I leave it for the quick and happy bursts of bubbles? Am like a child with a new toy that came all wrapped in bubble wrap. I love the toy but the bubble wrap offers an immediate thrill with each pop of a bubble. This sweet child, Heavens forbid that she is reading this, because if she is she will ask me the same question I ask myself after I talk to her; ‘Why didn’t you say what you meant to say?’ And when she asks me, what am I supposed to say? That I want to feel wanted but I don’t want to be needed? Or that it’s so much easier to fall in love with someone I know will break my heart. Maybe a part of me wants to be a femme fatale or maybe a damsel in distress but that side of me every so often remembers that I deserve better and my confidence picks up and I make a conscious effort to get better. Those times are few but NOT far in between, just not a part of me that I entertain very often. The pursuit and desire of the whole is love. However, am searching for what kind of love? Every kind I have gotten makes me sick with unshed tears, unspoken words and selfish ideals. And then I think like I have been thinking all night that it is what it is. I am living it. If I truly wanted it any different, I would be making choices that make it different.

In the spirit of all those confessions, I have one last one that I could share and destroy all chances of me making it last or I could keep to myself and it would make me over think things as I have been doing…Hmmm….which will it be...

Pun intended!

Of myself and others

My heart starts to beat a little faster every time I click on the 'New Post' button of late. Usually, I take a minute to breathe and try to calm down but then when I do start writing, the words do not come so today am doing this with the pounding of my heart in my ears.

The rush I feel when I begin to write makes me realize just how much I have missed this.

Some of what I have to say is far from being ready for the public but I will go with the flow and see what streams out.

I have been going through a celibate stint in my life. A part of me wants to claim that it's by circumstances but the part of me that begs to differ reminds me that the offers are plenty, am just the one who isn't willing to accept any. Not forgetting the ones I initiate then find myself holding my breath when it’s time to deliver. I am not ready (or atleast I didn’t think I was ;-) ) It's not my over active imagination, it’s that my body wants to be 'filled', craves to be tortured and made to burn up. It desires that rush that comes with release that leaves me weak and incoherent. My body wants it but my mind tells me it cannot handle it. My hands start to shake, my breath quickens, my thighs start to quiver, my vision clouds, my throat runs dry, my mouth salivating but unable to remember the simple task of swallowing. My mind wants to mourn for the losses I have suffered, most of which have been self-induced; my body wants to purge itself of any connections I have made with my soul. It wants to be free, to be with others who have not tainted us before. To run a marathon with no end line but my soul wants to weep and self-destruct. Suddenly, everything is too much, specific things are too little. There is no balance. Am not able to create one or find one that works. It feels like am eating myself from the inside out, yet my body is burning from the outside in.

Am scared I will burn to nothing. I will be a pile of ashes, lost and blowing in the wind. Different parts of me in different parts of the world. Am afraid, but am also at peace with the idea of being in different places. It is better than being in one place and waiting to blow up.

Strangely, the act itself does not affect me as much as after the fact. Every so often, I lose my confidence and find that am stuttering and mumbling. I begin to doubt my ability to get anyone but myself off but then I take a deep breath and jump head first into the deep end just to find that I can still swim. It does not mean that I gain my confidence back; it sometimes means that I can bullshit my way through things that I would rather feel excellent at. (Knowing that you are, feeling that you are and thinking that you are makeup angles to what and whom we are but nothing makes the existence more real than knowing).  

I miss so many things about myself. Like how much I loved a good laugh, how open-minded I was and how much I let myself get away with. Not that am close-minded, just feeling claustrophobic in my mind. The evolution of the self, which is what I have been going through, has taken me to very dark places in my mind, places that I had always hoped I would not have to go. Knowing that it is darkest before the dawn was supposed to make me feel comforted but instead it makes me antsy at the prospect of getting stranded in the dark. Self-evolution being a process, I have gone from Sunrise, to noontide, to sunset quickly followed by dusk and now the dead of night. Am approaching my new sunrise as a new being but that is not to say that I have fully actualized all the stages. Every so often, I go back to a stage I have crossed to find that I have something pressing that I wish to do and I do. (Am saying a lot but saying nothing…uuuggghh… I will try again). In my self-imposed actualization, I met an amazing man. He was too old to be my boyfriend, old enough to be my father but sweet enough to be a friend. He would talk to me about what I wanted for myself. I was expecting then and I needed someone who would do that with me. I had exiled myself from a community that I thought understood me because I finally realized they did not even know me. Not to say that they are bad people, it is just that they knew me that had different ideals from the person I have been striving to be. They knew one side to my two-sided coin and I was not ready to show the other face. He was a breath of fresh air. He helped me come to terms with the person I was, embrace the thought and act of being a mother and still chart a way forward to the person I wanted to be.

Recently, I had a nasty run in with someone I care about and my ’friend’ took it upon himself to help me settle the matter. He did something for me that I could not do for myself. He reminded me that sometimes in the process of finding ourselves we have to lose touch with some people around us that we thought would be with us during our transition and would come to love the people that we become when all is said and done.

My baby is now 1, she has done a milestone and after a year of being a mother, I guess it’s also a milestone for me. I took my first weekend off being hands on mother. I was not planning on doing it, but I needed to confirm for myself if I truly had changed. I was missing my baby for the most part (except of course when I was busy being a sweeter version of my confident, charming and go getter self). I had fun, had a hard time then was back to being all smiles when I held her again. Motherhood has made me complete in so many ways but took away a lot too. My mother constantly reminds me that it’s a sacrifice that one cannot keep mentioning because love is a sacrifice. I like the way that sounds. I am no longer alone. I have hopes and dreams for her. No stakes, I just want what is best for her and that comes with challenges. I have a newfound respect for all mothers in the world. The time and energy it takes to raise a child is tremendous.

How about that?

It’s time. Yes it is, I have been quiet in all aspects of my life, not that am going through anything, but I needed time to adjust to the changes I have made in my life.

The greatest change so far has to be that I had a BABY! A beautiful bundle of joy that makes my heart constrict and my lips explode into a smile every time I think of her. She is truly the apple of my eye and I would move the solar system if she needed me to.

Changes…yeah, great changes. I was in an amazing relationship for about 20months with a great man who I thought understood me fully and I was in the best of places in my life. He knew all about my past and was okay with whom I was and who I was trying to be. Sadly, that came to tragic a end and am sort of on the rebound. I use sort of because I can’t truly say that it is a rebound, am doing really well, maybe because for the first time in my adult life I have left a relationship with my heart intact and my eyes wide open. This is what all breakups should be like. Am ready to take my time and incorporate my baby in my choices. I had so many concerns before I left him, I do not want my daughter to not know her father and knowing the kind of man he is, he will not let that happen (I hope he does not for both their sakes). I was worried he would not understand my choice to leave and regain my own power over my life. He’s taking it better than expected and is being a trooper. Even when I act like a bitch, (some things never change) he takes it in stride and brushes it off. He could be emotional and that would remind me so much of myself in my formative years in situations where I did not feel loved, cherished or appreciated. This is probably why I made this very hard decision. I was not sure I wanted to be in a relationship with someone just because we have a child together. We love her to bits but we had lives before she was born and now that she is about to turn a year, I thought it was time I went back to my spacious cocoon and continued to find myself. However, so far so good. I am in a good and happy place. He is still my best friend (no, he is not replacing anyone) and he makes my day better when it is bad and great when it is good. I love him, but am not in the market for a man. I think 20 months with one has shown me that a leopard never changes its spots; it just finds better grounds to camouflage. I have tried to verbalize in my mind all the questions that people could ask me, like why did I have a baby with him. In addition, I find that when I try to answer, it comes out all wrong (he asked this question too when I ended it) but here is the best I can do in terms of an explanation. I met this man when I was trying to get over a woman who I had but did not truly have. I wanted her to own me but she was too comfortable in her lifestyle and I did not want to put into words all the things that were going through my mind. I used him in the beginning and was really enjoying myself but I thought it best not to take things too far before I was sure I still did not want to moon over the woman I wanted. I got an opportunity to test myself and when I was done, I knew for sure, there was no hope for a future with her. I then embarked on a freedom spree with him, which led to my pregnancy. I was not ready to get an abortion especially after how bad I wanted a baby two years earlier. I chose to have this baby and to be real; it is my proudest choice so far. When I held her in my arms, I thought I would die from joy. God has been good to us.

About singlehood…where should I start? It has been a ride to say the least. Everything seems to be under a different light. The glow of being alone is strange. I hold my breath sometimes when I feel like I should run back into his arms just to not be alone. Then I remember that I need to make it on my own. If my daughter is ever to see me as a woman in my own right, she needs to see that I did all I could to make myself happy. In my happiness is her happiness. A happy home is only as happy as the people inside it. Am I searching? Perhaps that is not the appropriate term, am more of browsing. I now know what I want and so far, I am yet to find it. Beauty is not all it’s about. I have met a couple of women I have interest in, just not sure what kind of investment am willing to make in them. I want to have mind-blowing orgasms and fantasies that will leave me panting from a woman. Just good sex for the time being, after all the relationships I have been in, I think its time for a serious break. The only relationship I want is with my daughter.

As far as updates go, that is about as much as I am actually willing to disclose of the months I have been in hibernation.

More recently though, I had a one night stand that was really something else. Maybe the person who contributed to it happening was my main agenda but I was not disappointed with what I got. How badly I want to go into details…but this all    I can’t promise the next post will be the same but let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.

See you soon meus queridos. It feels GREAT to be BACK!

2013 first quarter...and then some

2013…hmmmm, am not sure if so far its going good or its going crazy. It has been a very interesting first quarter, a lot to be said for it but not enough to explain why I am sure this needs to be the year I either get pregnant and/or join a convent.

Well, where to start the tales of this year from??? Let’s go step by step or should I say month by month. Though you need to know there is a lot I will not say about this beautiful three months that have gone by. Like when I ended up in bed with a strange man and woke up with puke on my hat and headscarf (thank heavens for that headscarf). And the time I blacked out, woke up soaked in piss and toothpaste (I have no clue where the toothpaste came from) or the time I thought I was a hero in 5” heels, walking on a road that was full of potholes in the dead of night in my very blind and drunk state and I fell face first into a puddle. It has been quite the three months yes, now I know alcohol is not soup and am a crazy soon to be alcoholic if I keep up with the stunts I have been pulling.

January: I moved house to begin with (still need to pick my things up from her place but I have been too caught up in the mystery that is my life to do so and that I don’t have a car to begin with, would have loved to sort it out though, so if you feel the need to donate your car, please do so…) for reasons I would rather keep to myself but am sure some of the reasons are already in circulation even as I write this. And after moving house I had some time to myself. I would have said quality time if it had been a good idea, but seeing as it made me more destructive than I already was, it was time that had I been a smarter woman I would have spent in the company of friends and family that would have seen all the warning signs before they came pouring down on me. Point is, January was my month from hell, think I caused myself more problems than was ever necessary trying to get myself out of situations I had so adamantly delivered myself into in the first place just for me to realize I needn’t have gone so far. But that’s okay, I will call it a lesson learnt and move on from it. The month did have its prime time though, I got an opportunity to hang out with some really cool peeps, take random trips to Namanga, Entebbe, Kampala, Arusha and I totally loved the trip to Mount Kenya. Am sure I want to live in such a cold and distant place all by myself with lots of power, books, no technology and a lot of paper, pen and ink. Also, I finally finished my essay about me and sent it to my mentor. I have read it over and over since then and I don’t think I like it any better now than I did the first time I read it. The only thing I have forgotten to mention about January is all the alcohol that got into my system. That must have been the highlight of that month, all the booze…

February: Enter February, the month that I dread the most but this year it was quite something else. This has got to be the month this year that I crossed all my boundaries. To begin the month, that little (dragged out) stint ended (much to my dismay yet relief, I was beginning to go crazy over things I could not define or understand) and then started my stint as a CSW (Commercial Sex Worker). Before you gasp and turn to your neighbor to ask them to read this post, you should understand that I want to be a jack of all trades. I still don’t know what I want to spend the rest of my long, unrequested for life doing, but I do know I don’t want to spend it doing the same thing for the rest of it. Now, back to the CSW story, I met someone who kept buying me alcohol and spending all their waking time with me, I had a feeling it was going to get complicated, after all I am yet to meet a man who after spending a week together doesn’t want to have sex with me (except perhaps Mr. Congo). So he asked for it and seeing as I had already started considering going to great lengths to join an escort service I thought I was smarter than all the other women in my life and I charged him for the sex (btw, that is a very liberating feeling) who would have thought, having sex with a man who is paying for it could be so much fun? I did enjoy myself, a little too much if am being true but I think the thrill was knowing just how illicit it was for me to get paid to get laid (esp. by a man)…That stint didn’t last too long, more like a one night stand, but it got us closer and spending more and more time together. Nick and I had to go to Kagio to check on the farm that will in the next couple of years be the premises for our foundation (yes, the girl is dreaming big), we thought it would be a one day trip but it took 4days to cut timber and do some business here and there. My pay for it friend (Ray) joined us on the 2^nd day, he apparently missed me too much to wait for me to get back to town. By this time we were very good friends, we shared a room, I didn’t charge him or anything and got to be held every night. I didn’t have to sleep with a teddy bear or anything, he held me and gave me more kisses than I thought necessary, but most importantly, he just wanted to sleep next to me and hold me. This man could be a keeper, wonder if I can convince him to change his gender???I could use a woman who loves to cuddle as much as he does. That trip must have been my best so far. I was never cold, never sober and always baked (note to self: the next time you make that trip, make sure to carry a G bag, no more bad bush) and I had awesome company, though I think Nick and Ray will drive each other crazy because of this whole sexuality and Catty business. The highlight of this month must have been that I was drunk every day of every week and I had no reason under the sun to cry. Not to mention I was too baked most of the time = NUMB!!! February you served me very well. I hope to have another one just as good every couple of years.

March: Well, this was one of those months that I wish I could go back and relive. It was awesome being me. I voted during the general elections, met a sweet 19yr old who I think is a tad bit crazy (but not in a bad way) and very free spirited. She was such a breath of fresh air. And the main focus of my ‘maybe change was all I needed’ post. We met through Ray who gave me strict orders not to fuck her but anyone who knows me knows the more am told not to do something, the more likely I am to do it. I had fun with her, she is cute and sweet (did I mention sweet in every way??? Don’t get me started on her scent and taste…) Had my second ffm threesome with her and Ray and it rocked (am all smiles with the memory so fresh and clear in my mind like it was just yesterday). I got a call from an old fuck that I did not expect but I did what I never thought I would, I said NO… that was a first step in the right direction I think because since then, the weight I had been carrying around was heavily reduced. I am very proud of myself. This is what I would call progress if I didn’t know better. I got sick for a while but that didn’t hinder my drinking myself silly even with the infinite number of tablets I was taking. Nick, Ray, Lil G and I got thrown out of Nick’s house one night and we had to find somewhere to spend the night so we walked to a friends house some minutes to midnight, running away from dogs and paranoid as hell thanks to some crazily good shash we had a constant supply of. That month was crazy and fun. I almost forgot to mention the crush I have had on some fine ass girl for years and I finally got to touch her boobs and I asked her to have sex with me…and she said YES. Only problem is, I have performance anxiety checking in already, which is making it very hard to set a date to deliver…This is clearly going to be a good year, with a lot of running around but a lot of good too. Maybe this year I will finally probably join a convent (someone told me that I would have to consider it a life’s supply of pussy without having to hunt or gather). Only problem is I would only want to be a Carmelite nun and the vow of silence is one of those things I can’t do…  Let’s hope the rest of this year is as good and as productive. We don’t want any more disappointments than they are, now do we???

(It’s now June 2013, just realized that I still haven’t posted this, so what the hell, I might as well add on the last 2 months…ENJOY!!!!)

April: Well, this must have been the month I remember the least of. I spent so much of it with the same old faces around me, trying to convince myself I was fine but drinking myself silly with every waking moment. I had so many doubts that month courtesy of all the lies I had been feeding everyone around me. I was pretending to be ok but planning my death with every day that went by. Am glad Ray and Nick kept me very occupied or I would have done something really stupid. Yes, Ray was still all over the place this month, he dropped the bombshell…HE LOVES ME!!! I had that classic WHAT?!?!?!? Moment when he said it, but I should have known that was just the start, when I wouldn’t say it back, he told me it was ok, he wanted to be the one to love me and I didn’t have to love him back. Infact, he preferred it that I didn’t fall in love with him but we all know me, am incapable of taking that as a challenge and trying my level best to love him back. That did not go too well, but that’s a story for next month…I met with Ms. Possible to discuss AFRA-Kenya, our current baby project and I have to say am upset we are not making fast enough progress, but am sure it will pick up after we are done with CFCS. Yes, we were selected to present at this years CFCS. Wish us success in our presentation. What have I left out of April??? I bumped into Gorgeous in my neighborhood, had apparently forgotten she moved in, that was quite the shock, I had just gotten my first drink of the day down, must have been at like 9am and I felt odd meeting them so high so early in the morning. You could say this was the beginning of the end! Alas! This month I didn’t have any constructive sex to sing about…I went back to Mount Kenya, this time Mr. Congo took me and I had a blast. His sons are awesome company and he is too good to me. We stayed at some newly constructed cottages, went to Trout Tree (If you love trout fish, you have got to try this restaurant in Nanyuki. It’s not just wonderful food, but the ambience, service and environment is truly breathtaking) for lunch, then to the Fairmont Mount Kenya Safari Lodge for drinks and a golf cart drive around the premises, they have a wonderful maze that’s clearly visible from the poolside. Now that was beauty at its best. April was not such a bad month after all hmmm…

May: What can I say about this month and how can I say it in a way that will make you understand how important this month was to me? I had time to think at the fore of this month and I chose to stop drinking for 21days. It was time to start a new habit. The marijuana also had to be reduced and I had to get my shit together. And I did. I stopped drinking on the 6^th of May 2012. The first week was really full of crap. My drinking boys wouldn’t accept I had stopped and kept dragging me to bars, trying to coax me into just one drink but I stood firm and got over the first week. The 2^nd week was more of a trial, I had the CFCS presentation on my mind and it was driving me insane with panic that would wake me up in a sweat and the fear of death in me. Still didn’t drink though, and the work load I had been ignoring started to go down easy, my desk emptied faster and my relationship with Ray came to a tragic end. I was done way before then, with the 22yr old drinking everyday (they say you only see how bad you looked when you look at the people you were on it with still going strong and I agree), partying like a rockstar, wanting to fuck like a porn star (this was more of no drunken sex anymore, I couldn’t enjoy it sober) and acting like a spoilt brat every time I exercised my freedom of movement, speech and association (don’t kiss anyone but me…don’t hug anyone…don’t flirt…don’t leave this bar or its over…am going to fuck **** if you go) not to mention the thorough shake down he gave me courtesy of a night of drinking. I gathered it was good while it lasted but it was time for some change. Then the 3^rd week rolled around…which happened to end a day before I left for CFCS. That last week was good, getting my act together, psyching myself up for the trip and seeing all those people I was too drunk to remember to miss. During this last week, I was undersexed and over anxious, freaking out because Ray was still not taking its over for an answer and my performance anxiety was checking in. Here comes the part am not sure how exactly to phrase. I have known Leslie for years, never once tried anything but finally did. May was a month to remember. It felt good to have someone make love to me and not just fuck me. Like I deserved to be in their arms and fit in them so perfectly. Long pillow talk conversations, same taste in music and an insane sense of humor. CFCS came and went, our presentation was alright (no blowing trumpets yet…) and the lodge was too amazing to put into words. Spent my nights on phone with Leslie, missing Nairobi like I haven’t in a while, crying myself to sleep on most nights (the view, the happiness and the relief of allowing myself to live were overwhelmingly beautiful), my days learning and catching up and marveling at the ability of this movement to take my breath away just when am giving up and so scared that everything will fall apart again. That was a week well spent. Its 10^th June, been back for a while, spending every waking minute with Leslie, falling asleep satiated and wrapped in each others arms. Leslie brings out the best in me and for now, I am content. I would share more on Leslie but I don’t want to get ahead of myself just yet. Am enjoying what is there for me today…Lets see how the rest of this month goes down.

Maybe change was all i needed?!?

Hmmm…

My mind was on her body and how good she would feel in my arms, naked and her voice echoing around the room, my name resounding over and over again. I was stoned and I needed some air before I took my fantasies a step further and took matters into my own hands.

I got up and walked out to the balcony, my drink in hand, a pack of cigarettes in my shirt pocket and a lighter somewhere in my cleavage. It would be a long night watching the woman in a black shirt and thirsting after her. Why did I have to be the only pussy lover in a room full of drunk women with my raging hormones and my insatiable pussy dripping juices onto my panty less tights? I could smell my arousal and feel the damp collection on my pussy and the gush that flowed out every time I looked at her was soon going to be dripping down the legs of my tights.

I watched her from the crack in the curtains as she got up and walked away till I couldn’t see her anymore, my mind already conjuring images of her grinding on a rock solid cock was driving me into a jealous fit and I had to turn around and look at the breathtaking view that I refused to take in. I was just beginning to get control of my breathing when the balcony door opened and in the crack of light, there she stood. The music and light spilling out from the house behind her, her silhouette in the door, the black shirt hanging onto her frame so perfectly, the pants she wore curving the bump of her ass so tightly, her head framed by the marvin that covered her hair. My clit did a jump and my pussy spasmed. I needed to get a hold of myself before I did something foolish.

She closed the door behind her and smiled at me as she turned around walking straight towards me. I moved away from the crack in the curtains, I wanted to see her under the light again to make sure I wasn’t dreaming or fantasizing. She drew closer still till she stood right next to me and said’, “Hi, am Toni, I have been watching you checking me out, see anything you want?” The sheepish smile on her face, as she turned around and leaned her back on the railing of the balcony made my knees buckle. I moved and stood over her short frame, my lips inches from hers, our noses touching, using all the restraint I had to keep my hands from running wild on her small frame. I could feel her small firm breasts pressed against mine, rising and falling with her short quick breaths. I saw her lips quiver and her lips dart out to lick them, that pink tongue inches from mine drew the words right out of my mouth. “Plenty…” I whispered, just as our lips met in a kiss that sent her pressing herself up against me.

My hands gripped the railing tight, I rubbed myself against her, intensifying the kiss and absorbing her whimpers and moans. Instinctively, my hands let go of the railing, to circle around her small waist. She fit in my arms like she was made for them and when one hand untucked her shirt she melted deeper into my arms. I trailed my way up her side, her shudders at my touch, the sharp intake of breath when I got to the base of her bra, the groan deep in her throat when I unclasped it from the front was all the encouragement I needed. My other hand followed suit and I had both her perky breasts in my hands. My thumbs flicking her nipples, her hands running trails on my back, her legs opening up to create room for me between them. I was loosing it really fast and her soft full lips were not helping in the least.

I let go of one nipple and she laid her head on my shoulder, my fingers working on the top buttons of her shirt. I had them open in seconds, my lips sucking on her earlobe, my tongue licking its way down her neck to the exposed flesh on her chest. I could feel the goose bumps on her skin, her teeth working on my neck as I took first one nipple into my mouth then the other. Her sharp intake of breath when I suckled one then the other nipple, the saltiness of her sweat as I took her into my mouth. Her breast filled my mouth and like a greedy child I kept trying to take more in. I could faintly visualize the bruise I would most likely leave on her breasts but that was not a priority. She seemed to like it and pushed herself deeper still into mouth even after I thought I couldn’t take anymore in.

I felt rather than saw her hands opening my shirt. The cold breeze that blew it around me told me she had the shirt fully open. She unclasped my bra and took both my big, heavy breasts into her small hands, kneading them and tweaking my nipples. I was panting heavily, my hands squeezing her ass, pulling her groin tight against mine. I could smell her too; her wetness was driving me insane. She had such an intoxicating smell and I wanted to take off her pants and eat her right there. I had her button open, her zipper down and my hand over her panties cupping her pussy. Her panties were soaked and she was rubbing herself onto my palm. I pressed her panties against her clit and felt it throb as she shuddered in my arms when she pinned me against the railing, put her hand inside my tights and met my slick and wet pussy ready and waiting to be devoured.

I pushed her wet panties to the side and slid my fingers in her slit. She purred and I flicked her swollen clit with my finger. She buckled and slid her fingers into my hole. Her fingers sliding in and out of me in frenzy had me tightening my vagina muscles around them, the tension building up in the pit of my stomach. Her pussy getting wetter and her clit harder at the gentle rubbing I was giving it. We were panting, moaning and whimpering, our hands down each others pants, trying not to make a racket. She took a nipple into her mouth and my vagina tightened around her fingers. I felt the dams burst inside me and heard myself moan out loud as I came on her hand, soaking my tights. My fingers continued rubbing her clit, drawing circles around it as I watched her suck one finger after another covered in my cum. Her thumb first, I flicked the tip of her clit. Her forefinger next I pulled it between my finger and thumb just a little and she moaned. Her middle finger and I slipped two fingers deep inside her vagina, her walls tightening around my fingers. Her ring finger and I was pumping in and out of her. When she slid her little finger into her mouth I bent my fingers forward inside her and pressed against her g-spot. She came right there, her teeth biting into my neck. I kept my fingers inside her; it was all I could do to keep from falling on my knees.

We stood there for a couple of minutes each one catching their breath when I leaned into her ear and whispered, “Am Catty and am not done. Could we take this to a room?”

I miss you

I miss you so much, I find myself

In the wee hours of the morning, Blink 182 playing in my head

I wonder how you are doing,

Are you ok?         

 Ok not being the best word but what do I know?

 

I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight

I wish I could call you and hear your voice

Convince myself the lies I feed me will become reality

You’re already the voice inside my head

 

I find myself with these anxiety attacks

When I worry about you,

Are you eating right? Are you sleeping right?

I hope you are, whether next to me or far from me,

I want only that, which will sustain you to surround you

 

She says I obsess over whether you are well,

She won’t let me ask after you from friends

She thinks you control me in ways she can’t

But still with everyday that goes by I worry about you

More so if I don’t get to know that you are well.

 

How sometimes I hear your voice in the wind,

Calling for me, like a silent whisper just in my ear,

Your name chanted over and over, like a reminder that…

I need to know you are well for me to be well.

 

I used to watch you in the throes of your dreams,

The emotions etched on your face, each one a reminder

Of the emotional creature within that hides everything painful

Under layers of skill and years of polishing the act.

 

You spoke to me in my dreams once,

Just a fleeting recollection of all the things achieved and those yet to come

You don’t know it, but I stay up at night and offer silent prayers

And laments of a lost and delirious soul to whoever willing to hear me

Hoping that everything around you falls into place as you see it.

 

You are not patient, I can see it in the way you countdown,

You want things to happen at your pace and time

And sometimes I find myself crossing my fingers for you

That you gain as you wish because disappointment is painful to take

 

The strength behind who you are is based on who you were

One does not understand the full being without seeing them as they were

The reflection of who you will be is behind a veil of half truths

Sometimes I think the hardest for you to admit is what you can see.

 

Yet I hope you will still see the bigger picture.

 

It will take a lifetime to show you

That what you mean to me is above and beyond titles

Not a label in this world can define us and what we have

Try as they may they can never explain

 

They insist its love, they don’t understand what kind

But considering we don’t, do we think they can?

Take it as it is at face value,

I miss you and I love you.

Can a love with no name blossom?

What do you want?

Have you thought about what you want? I mean really want. I don’t mean the gorgeous pair of heels you saw in that shop with a ridiculous price tag, or the boots you saw on that dude on the street walking his girl to the bus stop, or that plate of some well fried chicken, a portion of vegetables perfectly crunchy and the roast potatoes that make you salivate when you think about them, no, all that is so small in comparison to what am asking.

What am asking is, have you thought about what you want from your life? This question has plagued me for a while (I will share whatever insights will come my way as I write this piece) and I was hoping to write this as a series of questions but my thoughts command their own expressions. I have wondered for a while now what it is I would want to accomplish for myself in this lifetime. Would I want commendations for it? What would I want commendations for? Maybe I should write my eulogy as I would want it to be read at my funeral not very far from now (this is not a suicide note, just an acknowledgement that am scared of aging to a point of senility or inability to do for myself the basics) and work towards achieving those very things. But something tells me things don’t ever take the route we want them to. So again I ask, have you ever really thought about what you want?

Family is an integral part of who we are, who we were and who we become. Humanity is shaped by the emotional bonds they form in their life spans (if you don’t agree, we can agree to disagree but keep in mind am not saying it’s the only thing, just one of the many). The family you are born into and raised by is the first indicator as to what kind of person you will be. We reflect those around us. My mother with all her good and bad has done what she thought was best for me as a parent. There is no good parenting or bad parenting; there are just the parents best. Whether it meets standards or not, it’s just parenting. I can recall conversations with friends on parenting and with former lovers based on dreams of starting a family together. Those were just talks. I have what I want when it comes to family all mapped out in my brain. It might not be a foolproof plan, it might have some major loopholes but I have learnt parenting is all about loving your child the best you can that they may love others around them just as much in the best way they can. Mothers have been known to defend their children, even the most evil of children. It is their instinct to defend their own blood. Love is the only thing a parent should be most concerned about providing for their child. All others come second. As a child of someone, you should know. I want to raise children who will know love is unconditional. Forgiveness is earned and not through material things. Education is important but not everything, friends are good but they are not blood. Enemies are what you make them and loved ones will always hurt you, hurt and pain are an integral part of love. Love does not end, it alters into its many variations though love does not alter when alteration it finds. Sex has been, is and will continue to be so when I say wait, am not saying it because I don’t want them to ‘enjoy’ themselves, but because I know sex comes with responsibilities and if it’s going nowhere, what are they competing for? Family will always be there for you. Maybe not as a unit, but there will always be that one who no matter how much you fuck up will be there to help you pick up the tiny pieces and piece you back together.

Society is always being charged with one fault or another like we forgot for some time that society is you and me. Don’t even get me started on this, I might be here for far longer than I had anticipated on a tirade of issues that I think we should stop accusing society of judging. It’s general knowledge that man judges that which he does not understand. I don’t want to live in a society that doesn’t understand but is always seeking to be understood. If I talk to everyone I meet about my perfect Utopia and they in turn tell me about theirs, we would find so much in common and a place to agree on. Where we don’t agree, why can’t we just agree to disagree? No one man is entirely right and neither is any one man entirely wrong. I don’t want society to give me any better than what I give, I know so far there is a lot of bad out there I have done, but that does not mean there is no good. A friend once told me karma does not work for her the way it works for the rest of us. She believes she gets good ever. When bad happens it’s just something that happens???(The last bit am not so sure about, the bad rarely if ever seems to happen to her so she says). What is karma for you? Karma for me is not getting as bad as I give in equal measure, it’s that good and bad do exist and I will at some point have bad just as I have had good. Life is not fair to everyone, which is what makes it so fair. Society will not understand me by my sitting on my ass all day writing long emails back and forth to people who already understand me but by me trying to make them understand. There are many ways to skin a rat. I could share a few of my own but I want to be the one to try them out. I want everyone to know that just because they don’t like something, as long as it does not impact them negatively, it is not their place to decide what best works for the common good of man. It will always stand that one mans meat is another’s poison. As much as there is something about me you don’t like, there is something about you I don’t like. If we all went around telling people the things about them we don’t like, we would not be happy. Keep in mind for everyone one person who loves you, there is one who hates you, another who doesn’t know you, another who has heard about you and judged you based on what they heard, and probably another who feels nothing (neither good nor bad) about you. So if you make my living difficult, someone else will make yours impossible.

Economic empowerment of the self. How rich do you want to be? What kind of wealth do you want to have amassed? Man wants immortality so that he can make more money but I read somewhere, Immortality lies not in the things we leave behind but in the people whose lives we have touched. I want to die a wealthy woman. Wealthy in terms of the love I will have, I will not lie and say I have no desire to amass wealth, because I do want to be able to afford the many bouquets of roses I buy myself to make pot pourri, the cans of Monster Energy drink that I love to drink or the many pastries I love to bake (here am thinking my electricity bill and the many utensils I will have to bake with and the dish washer that will have to clean the dishes after am done) or even the many sumptuous dinners I love to indulge in (Mediterrano, Masrawy, Mercury  and Open House cook just for my taste buds) every so often and the many bottles of dear alcohol that is the bane of my existence (Chardonnay, Whiskey and Uganda Waragi e.t.c) and not to forget to mention the millions of airs of shoes I would like to own, not necessarily wear, but to know I own and the clothes and jewellery that I want to shower my beloved with. Am not stingy with myself over my hearts desires. Waswahili walisema, kipendacho moyo ni dawa. Does the end justify the means or the means the end? What do you want for yourself in the next 10 years in terms of economic power? Will you only benefit yourself or the ones around you too? When we make enough to enjoy the finer things in life, we don’t refuse to share, we just get tired of sharing with people who don’t bring the same things to the table as we do. Before you deny it, look around you, all your friends, do you have that one friend who is not doing as well as you financially? How many times in a year do you have something good and fine? Do you call them all those times? If you do, kudos to you and others like yourself. If you don’t, am sure you get that am driving towards the resentment you feel when you keep doing things for people and they don’t give anything back. Its human nature, am not saying it makes you a bad person.

Let me walk away from that, am sure I have given you enough to think over. Now I want to go into the people we want to share the rest of our lives with. Everyone says they want love. Does anyone actually know what kind of love they want? Am of the school of thought that man is vague in all his desires which is why he never gets them fulfilled. He wants wealth but says not what kind, he wants the best of everything but what is everything? Someone once asked me what kind of woman I want and the answer I gave had them in fits for a week but I have thought harder since then and I have gathered that I know in much greater detail now what I want. I cannot assure it will be for forever, but I can assume that it will be. Forever begins with the dawn of every new day. Everyday is the first day of the rest of your life. If I live with someone that I don’t trust, I will be distressed, every waking day will be another reason to fill my mind with doubts. If I live with someone who doesn’t respect me, do I plan on spending the rest of my days with a cloud over my head? If I let myself be surrounded by lies and half truths, will I not be opening myself up to hurt? I want a woman who loves me, respects me, forgives me, doesn’t cheat on me because we have a relationship whose rules of engagement are honesty at all times. I understand that there are times when I will want something other than what I have at home and so will they. Eating rice everyday is a bit boring and there are only so many ways you can cook rice. Sleeping with someone else for me does not mean you love me any less, it just means that there is that one thing you want elsewhere. But doing it and lying about it, now that I wont take. I want a woman who is open to ideas of spicing up our bedroom affairs. Not everyday is a beef day, when do we have chicken? What about vegetables? To be honest, I might never actually sleep with anyone else, but if she wants to, I want to know that she will before she does it. I want to be asked for my consent. Without it what we have is not real. I want a woman who understands that its not that I have anything against her friends, I just don’t want them in our space everyday, like a mole, am content burrowing into our cave away from the world. A woman who will hold me when it rains and gives me that much space when its hot because she knows I cant stand the heat. She understands I love the coast but the smell of humidity heavy with salt makes me sick to the stomach. She doesn’t know everything about me, every day is a learning day. She wants kids, just because we can’t have our own doesn’t mean we can’t have them. We are bound to fight and most times we will have to agree to disagree but that doesn’t mean we are will sleep in different beds…(and I have gone on too long about her). That’s what I want, what do you want???Do you know what you want??? Can you truly say in not so many words or even more if necessary what you really want?

Life has so many dimensions to it. To quote my last post, life is a series and sequence of events, how we deal with them is what is considered living. How do you want to live your life? Do you know? Or do you think you know?

Without mincing my words

Without mincing my words

Am angry, so very angry at the world and those in it that I feel my judgment is clouded by the anger that I feel… It has been a long time since I was this angry and self destructive. I want to blame my anger on the small things like the fact that he makes this a secret (much as I like the secrecy, it drives me nuts when am mad) or the intrusion I feel when I consider the women who have made me feel like am worth nothing in front of her but she does not budge (this on good days I blame on the slavery I delivered myself into without anyone’s help). But I know these are just the seeds am sowing now. She is just but a face that I can put to my anger yet you remain an emotion that is triggered by the smallest of things. It’s not her or them am mad at, but me. That you made me so helpless I can’t dare to speak up for me. That you made me reliable on people who could never protect me or even understand the dynamics of the protection I need. That I let myself get so caught up in what you did I forgot you were not the first or likely to be the last, just one of the more painful ones. Am angry because I let you ruin me all the while cowering like a child huddled by the wall in a fetal position protecting my face from the worst of the blows exposing my back to your kicks, letting the numbness that came with the pain consume me. I let you; will I persist in letting you?

I have smiled too long at the things that make me cry alone in my bed on lonely nights or in the shower after a romp that supposedly blew my mind. I have laughed way too long and if I let the anger fester inside me any longer I know I will blow up. So this is me saying it as it is, in words of my own choosing and expecting nothing from anyone, most especially not sympathy or a belief that they feel where I am coming from because I don’t think anyone does.

The world sees my laughter and smiles yet forgets to acknowledge the tears I shed in secret that society has taught me should be shed in hiding because emotions of disgrace, sorrow, shame and pain are not something to be shared. But now am done hiding my tears, sorrows and shame in my covers, in the blanket of darkness that comes with night or in the shower as the water runs down my face. For the first time in a very long time, I want the world to know am angry. It feels good to roll the word around in my mouth, to savor its tangy flavor and the sting of the words behind it. It tastes better than happiness has in a long time.

They say nobody in the world dies a virgin because the world fucks you anyway. This is my fuck you right back to the people in the world that have hurt, taunted, torn chunks of my emotions out of me and thrown them to the dogs, the ones who have chosen to make my life difficult in one way or another and those that have taken advantage of my goodness, kindness, innocence and naivety. You, yes you, the one that chose to take me on a ride in an emotional rollercoaster knowing where I stand yet still sitting through the ride like you have no idea what you are doing is wrong. It is okay that you don’t care about me, but that your humanity has been so reduced that you think my lessons in life should come from you, is not okay. Hate is a strong word, not used without surety and lots of thought given. I do not use this word as an insult, but mostly as a compliment. I hate you for what you did to me and what you make me see in the mirror when I look at it.

I have never been vindictive; I could hatch the best laid plans but never execute them. But you have brought out the animal inside me that wants to destroy everything in my path. Because of you, my ability to forgive has gone down to an all time low. Because of you I have now become the one I wish to destroy the most. Because of you now and then I think am ready to leave this world. I seek not greener pastures, but just my due justice against you just as that against me shall come forth and consume me. I hate you enough to kill you, but still can’t bring myself to do it. I will sit in the dark as usual just as I am doing right this minute as I write this and wish you dead and buried but still do nothing against you. Yet those that came after you destroyed me will face the wrath of my hatred for you. I watch myself manipulate and destroy them one by one and with each one that goes down, a part of me goes down with them but still my hatred will persist.

You made me a shadow of the woman I was before, my confidence ebbed away with every spare minute spent dwelling on the emotional and psychological scars you left behind. I have tried to let it go but I can’t, watching myself lowering me to the level of a common whore to feel less tainted by the touch you left on me. Your spirit haunts me, the demons in me cry for release. You left them here yet you do not claim them. A mere common slave girl, driven by no greater desire than to survive from one day to the next. A body that I no longer know what to do with, a misplaced and displaced sense of pride that leads me astray more than it guides me home. I want the woman I knew back but I hardly remember her in entirety before the images of you cloud my memory. You destroyed her and I regret to say that I let you. But this is the end of that road, no more stolen memories, no more white lies to smooth over the skin, like a rat that nibbles on human flesh and blows gently; you have taken over what WAS my life. But today…

Today I am telling you no more. I refuse to be a slave to your demons. I refuse to let you rule me. Am now angry enough to do something and the first thing I want to do is tell you Fuck You for the lies, the threats, the manipulation and the pain you brought into my life. This goes for you and all those that have come after you, whether or not they knew my pain, whether or not they understood what I was/am going through, any of them that took it all and gave nothing back, the ones I kept giving and they kept taking without a second thought to how they would feel in my shoes, the ones who felt I had nothing to give even after I gave them all I had, the ones who chose to disregard the value of what little I had left after you took all else away, the ones that like you chose to step all over me and declare themselves kings and queens. Yesterday you won the battle but today I win the war.

If ever there is a time for hatred to become something positive, this is it. Sometimes I find myself asking the image in the mirror if she could trade places with me, but the thousand faces she shows me tell me she is not a safer but a stranger bet. Did you know that I went into slavery because you made me doubt myself as a master? Some would argue that had I found better masters I would have made a good slave and been content but I could argue and say that had I been a better slave, my days would have been numbered. I remember vividly a sermon I heard once, that a woman’s place is at her husband’s feet. Was that the lesson you tried to teach??? Do my pleas and tears haunt you? Did my submission to your will shake you or make you feel empowered? For months I have been thinking I have been asking all the wrong questions expecting answers to them yet now I realize that I asked all the right questions just of the wrong people. You created the mess that is right now and you are in no place to sort it (not that I would ever take your help) but it pains me to know that all others who could, have only taken what you made and presented an image of organized chaos all the while leaving the ground much more disturbed. This is not a war of guns and arrows, but a war of emotions and thoughts and you my ‘friends’ lost the war even before it started. Next time you kick a man in the dirt, make sure you kill him, its not a very pretty sight when he comes to collect his dues, after all, one only gets as good as they give. Consider this a heads up, you and all others that came after you, I am coming to collect what is rightfully mine. Do not be fooled by the smiles, the jokes and the soliloquies, this is not a bark, just a howl carried by the winds of time to reach your ears much too late.

Some wet days

Contrary to popular belief, am a very shy and reserved person around strangers or people am not used to but I always open up after some alcohol. Sadly, this is not a story about one of those times. This is about a couple of hours before the said time. I had a sex date with one of my ‘2013 to do list’ women (that was cancelled) but She asked to have first dibs (to my greatest pleasure). When she asked me to go over I was over the moon. Finally, some really good X rated sex, the first of the year (albeit a bit late) and to make it better, it had been one of my best the year before (this is where I snicker quietly to myself in that evil way). We had spent the night before drowning in a bottle of Chardonnay and I was still buzzing from it the next morning and the conversations that had gone down the night before were not exactly some of the things one wants to go over the morning after. No sex the night before (this was sort of becoming a routine…that I don’t much care for) so add morning wood to my list of troubles that beautiful morning.

But still I woke up bright and looking forward to getting some finally and she is not one to disappoint…

Am not sure if we have lost the kink or it’s that none of us is feeling it right now. Maybe it’s that we talk about our lives so much (please don’t get me wrong, am not complaining, the conversations help me understand her situations and mine a lot better and it allows us to be honest with each other) and it kills the mood and we contend with what sorrows we have at the end of some dreary conversations (note to self: (pick one; a. Try and spice it up??? b. If it’s not working walk away!) Or it’s that am not getting called all the nasty names I want to hear to get me there and am blowing things out of proportion as usual. Either way, this was not one of those days that we don’t have the kink. This time, aside from all the name calling and acrobatics that were absent, it was one of those things I have never achieved by myself without the help of porn. It was…

She was lying next to me, her feet near my head and mine near hers. Her legs held together, her finger working up her clit. Not in a frenzy, just moderate easy strokes that were quickening her pulse and the longer I watched the worse my morning wood got. I had this image in my mind of her sitting on the shelf of that wardrobe, her legs around taut thigh muscles screaming with every in stroke and purring with every out. The light was placed above and right behind her, leaving me with no illusions of how good she was feeling. I only noticed my finger was making the same circular motion as hers when I felt my toes begin to curl. I looked up and she was watching me. That just brought on a whole new visual. My sight fuzzed and I closed my eyes to the memory of my legs wrapped around the same taut thighs, my screams echoing back at us, her under that same light, watching, enthralled, enchanted by the sight before her. Her finger working her clit, moans escaping her lips. I had looked up even then and she had been looking directly at me, the eye contact maintained as I continued to beg for more, screams of “…harder…” reaching her ears and her fingers increasing in intensity on her already dripping pussy with every sigh, moan or word that left my mouth. Her pleasure at watching me; my pleasure at watching her watch; and I suspect, her pleasure at being watched as she watched. My legs pressed harder together and the memory unfolded itself, I saw her legs part and her fountain of love juice as it left her body. That sent me over the edge and I came so hard it got to my hair. That’s when I felt it, the heat climbing higher and higher but this time more like lava, not the immediate flush of heat that could pass for a heat wave, but the boiling, like a mountain just beginning to blow after threatening to do so for weeks on end. The ultimate eruption. The tightening of my vagina walls, my nipples hardening to the point of pain, my head going blank and everything around me going dark for a couple of minutes. It wasn’t squirting, just one of those rare and intense orgasms that leaves me too drained to attempt another round or any kind of movement. My eyes adjusted to the light just in time to catch her watching the cum ooze out of my very happy pussy, that must have been enough because she came right there and then.

…Magical! That’s what it was.

Who would have thought watching each other touch ourselves compounded with the memories of past rendezvous would give us such pleasure?!?

Considering she gives me all that and much more, I don’t think it’s a mystery that am still single

Words

I find myself brimming with words

My mind spewing then faster

Than my hand can ever dare to write

I had lost it you know,

My ability to write and express myself

I had lost my saving grace

Yet I have found it again right where I left it.

Does it come back unchanged?

No, for in the words that float across my mind

Are the emotions for which I can’t fight.

I have accepted defeat when the battle has barely begun.

Do my words speak to me?

Yes they do, they tell of a tale

That has since changed its course

A tale that many will live way after I have left this life.

Do these words seek an audience?

No, once upon a time they sought to be heard

They begged to be read and acknowledged

Now they seek only to express a desire left unchanged

Thoughts left pending

Some left unacknowledged

The plight of a mind at war        

At war with itself over words unspoken.

My mouth sometimes takes control

And speaks for itself…and the heart

An internal organ accused of many emotions

Finds itself in the brain, forced to perform

A duty that it neither comprehends nor values.

Sometimes I wish I could give authority

To every part of me to speak for itself

For,

If my mouth could speak for itself,

It would demand for more of your kisses

If my neck could speak for itself,

It would ask that you never cease to blow gently on it

If my arms could speak for themselves,

They would request to never stop touching you

If my breasts could speak for themselves,

They would cry that you never cease to suckle on them

If my thighs could speak for themselves,

They would ask to always be wrapped around your waist.

My entire being wants to be under your spell,

To be controlled and mastered by your artful touch

Your kisses taking my breath away

If my body could speak for itself,

It would only ask for you.

Words without boundaries,

Boundaries with no clear divisions,

They are just words yet still they burn

With an alluring yet terrifying passion. 

These words choke me

With the intensity by which they burn themselves into my brain

They leave me in pain and sometimes soaring

If words could kill, am sure some would have had me by now

If words could save, let’s just say I would have more than the proverbial 9 lives.