An Adventure as Her: Running from Truth

I keep finding myself running. In the past I would physically run. I’d pack up my feelings and my things and I would leave. I would remove myself from a situation. I’ve run from good things and bad things. I’ve run from abuse, I’ve run from blessings. I’ve run from others and I’ve run from myself.


For a moment I thought I was done running because I’ve been in the same place for four years. I’ve realized that I’m still running. I’m running from my thoughts. I’m running from my feelings. I’m running from my truth.


As much as I’d like to think that I’m living an honest and truth filled life, I’m not. As much as I’d like to think that I’m living on my own terms and not anyone else’s, I’m not. I’m still incredibly aware and cautious of other’s perceptions and judgments. It’s doing more harm than good.


I know what I’ve been searching for; I know what I’m still missing. I have pieces that could be forced together to present an image but it’s not the image that I’ve always seen in my heart. Do I settle for it because it could be “it” if we force it? Or do I leave almost for in hopes of?


Having the freedom to explore while still bound has resulted in me breaking my own rules. I’ve seen what I’m missing in others. Those others, however, have their own binds. Do I settle for pieces of what I want? Do I settle for feeling what I desire sometimes? Do I sacrifice the sometimes for in hopes of?


I don’t know if it’s that I don’t believe that I deserve the whole, the always, the entire. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t have enough faith in time and myself to believe that if I hang in there that I’ll eventually find my whole, always and entire. The only thing that I know right now is that I’ve found the part, the sometimes, the piece.


I have to ask myself am I willing to live this fragmented life. I know what other people believe, but I believe that this life is about feeling. Feeling connected, feeling love, feeling loved, and feeling loving and feeling others. He makes me feel things that I’ve never felt and I don’t mean that in the clichéd sense. I honestly have never felt these things. Not even remotely.


I’ve said that it’s not love but since then, I’ve thought about that. Is it not love? It feels like it. It looks like it. Am I overanalyzing it? Love is pure in its essence. Love will always be regardless of how we try to dress it up and make it behave. It will always be. Is it love? Is it that I’m too wrapped up in our realities, in our obligations, in the… “extraness” that we hang up on love’s hooks.


It feels so much like the love that I recognize but it’s not. It’s taken me months to understand this. I feel trust, I feel safety, I feel like I’m understood, I feel like I’m appreciated in the capacities that I give myself, I feel beautiful, I feel wanted and needed. That feels a lot like love. But it isn’t.

Love itself is pure. Love is simple and not complicated. It’s simply what it is. It becomes complicated when we allow external forces to influence it. Love will exist despite how we fight, what we have or believe we need. Love will always make itself known.

Rereading that as if I hadn’t written it sounds like it’s love but I’m afraid and unwilling to admit it. It sounds like I’m too worried about how it will seem or be perceived. It sounds like I’m too worried about arbitrary timetables and definitions. It sounds like I’m afraid to own all of what I feel. It seems like I fear that the object of this love will be disturbed by it. This has left me sitting here thinking. Why do we place so much stake in it? Why do we tie it to so much pressure and so many expectations? Why can’t it just be? Why must something always grow from it? Can we not just have love and allow it to exist? Does it have to blossom into something else? I don’t think it does.


In this case, this grew from something foreign. In many cases we attribute it to relationships and futures and growing together. But in this experience with Him I’ve realized that playing with trust, with faith, with pure selves, with time, with interactions such as this… if it’s real then it’s inevitable. I found myself trusting this person and bearing myself in an abnormal way and it was received. It was appreciated. It was met with respect, with gratitude and adoration. It was received.


I’ve been struggling with the end of it and I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. I haven’t been able to make peace. I’ve been holding a truth that I’ve tried to dress up as something else. I’ve been afraid of owning it because I’ve been afraid of it being rejected. But I mean, I’ve been rejected, my service has been rejected, my loyalty and my gifts have been rejected. So why am I so afraid of owning a truth that won’t change anything? Why am I afraid of letting this truth stand on its own instead of forcing it to masquerade as hypothetical scenarios?


I had been unusually bare and exposed. I had shared fears and insecurities. I trusted, I gave, I served. I acknowledge that each and everything about “that” was illogical. I acknowledge that I struggled with its nonsensical nature. But what I’ve realized is that those hypotheticals that I posed while we “were” served me because I was testing the waters. I could feel something shifting in me and I wanted to make sure that it was safe. I wanted to make sure that if we were going to move forward in this truthfully that it was safe for my heart to be as invested as the rest of me. I was told it was. Then it ended abruptly. I was rudely awakened by the truth that I was avoiding. The hypotheticals were actuals and I simply hadn’t the opportunity to sit with them and understand them.


I still don’t know the ins and outs of it but most of me feel like it’s unnecessary. If it’s safe, then I’ll own it. It is love. Does that change my expectations? Does that change my hopes? Not in the least. But I want to be able to live in that and live with that instead of being fearful, shameful and embarrassed by it. After all, it’s pure. Right? It’s simple, right? It will always exist despite how fight, what we have or believe we need, right? It will always make itself known… Right?


An Adventure as Her: Untitled

I’ve been struggling with these emotions that have been burning inside of me. They feel simultaneously familiar and foreign. The anxiety, the excitement, the warmth, the fire, the anticipation, the joy, the pleasure, the desire; all familiar. The need, uncertainty, the confusion, the grayness, the fear; all foreign.

I struggled under his reign. I couldn’t make sense of a lot of what I felt and thought. I tend to seek references to compare to in order to understand, but I didn’t have any and I couldn’t find any. It was all so new to me and it left me with a gray pit deep inside. On the precipice, the undeniable feelings dangled.

I’m accustomed to keeping most emotions and worries to myself, but I found myself in a situation that called for full disclosure. The circumstances surrounding it didn’t lend it toward fostering a sense of full security. I knew that we were both obligated elsewhere and this started with an established, albeit unspecified, expiration date. This left me feeling like our days were numbered. This left me worried about emotions and feelings that I tried to pretend weren’t developing. Where would that leave me? Where would I “put” these feelings when it ended?

It feels so much like the love that I recognize but it’s not. It’s taken me months to understand this. I feel trust, I feel safety, I feel like I’m understood, I feel like I’m appreciated in the capacities that I give myself, I feel beautiful, I feel wanted and needed. That feels a lot like love. But it isn’t. Could it have been? I hate to admit that it’s quite possible that in time it very well may have morphed into love. I’m not sure if I hate to admit it or if I’m afraid to admit that. Love itself is pure. Love is simple and not complicated. It’s simply what it is. It becomes complicated when we allow external forces to influence it. Love will exist despite how we fight, what we have or believe we need. Love will always make itself known. This didn’t become love but it felt so much like it that it scared me.

The connection that I felt was unlike anything else that I’ve ever experienced before. I wasn’t perfect in it but I felt like I was becoming better because of it. How many people can say that? It wasn’t an ideal situation, and I’m sure that neither of us foresaw any of this at its inception. But it was ours. Up until this point I’ve allowed worries, concerns and over-thinking to overshadow my feelings, I have no reason to do that now. I acknowledge and have acknowledged all of the facts, but what I realize now is the reality of our lives has not in any way changed the feelings and connection that have been born through our fantasy. I often worry that I’m alone in my feelings, I often worried that I was out of line or wrong in my feelings.  But the chips have fallen and I have nothing to lose. I had never felt so alive, so right with another person. And now that we’re trying to navigate our newly not-so-redefined roles, I’m so conflicted. I don’t want to lose him and if I’m being absolutely honest, I want him back, I want it back. It’s selfish to feel that but it’s my truth. I understand why things have turned out this way, and I’m truly working on accepting it but in the mean time, I don’t want it but if it’s all that I can have, I guess I’ll take it. But what I really want is to feel like I can be that raw, unfiltered, bare person with him again. It was so scary but he met me each and everytime and assured me that it was okay to be vulnerable. I’ve never had that before and I don’t have that now. He never really told me how this affected him, at least not in the ways that I’ve shared. I can only hope that its somewhere in the same realm.

I’ve recently realized that I care. I mean, I always knew that I cared but I’m just realizing how much I care. It was never a light thing for me. It was never superficial. When we agreed to enter into this together, I took it very seriously from the beginning. I gave parts of me that I never envisioned sharing with another person especially outside of the confines of a relationship. I had been forced to reevaluate my own beliefs and values. I had been forced to realize that a lot of what I held to be true were completely based on social constructs and not on what felt right for me. He gave me something that I never knew I wanted or needed. It came in the most unusual package but it was beautiful. I don’t know how else to describe it.

It’s incredibly difficult speaking to him now because I feel like I have to restrain myself. I have to hold back how I really feel, how I really want to be and interact with him. It feels phoney. It’s so difficult talking about the weather when I want to let him know that I’m craving to submit to him. It’s painful even. I never knew I could feel these feelings because until recently I haven’t been able to distinguish them. But they’re here. I’m here, always been here.

I just don’t know where to put them.

An Adventure as Her: Rising Glow

The daily monotony that became my life was draining me. I loved my life don’t get me wrong. It’s just that due to the sheer redundancy my days ran into each other like liquid spilled on to a water coloring. I felt like I was drowning. I felt like I was suffocating. It had been so long since something or someone left me breathless.

I have been conflicted by the feelings that this Man elicits from me. Guilt. Shame. Embarrassment. Confusion. Fear. Excitement. Heat.

I’ve read about pheromones before but never have I experienced them in such a way. The energy that radiated from Him sought a new host and found me. I absorbed them. I knew in that moment, after that “hi”, that I wanted Him to absorb me. In that moment I didn’t know where it would lead or if it would lead anywhere at all. I was aware of His obstacles and I was aware of mine. But in that moment I felt the truth before I knew it and could accept it. I recognize that within myself I thirst for understanding. If something confuses me, I have to figure out why. If something eludes me, I have to get to the bottom of it. But this Man… I only knew that I wanted Him to get to the bottom of me.

Everything that I knew to be true about myself has been brought into question. So many “nevers” have become “maybes”. So many “maybes” have become “yeses”. My mind wants to push back and make sense of it all. The feelings that I feel won’t let me though.

I’ve long since given up on that passion that I’ve seen so many times in movies. I’ve experienced it with women. In fact, I’ve experienced it with every woman that I’ve ever been with, an undeniable attraction, and a passion so pure that addiction seemed inevitable. I’ve never experienced this with a man. It’s because of this that I’ve always felt that I was more of a charcoal on the spectrum between black and white, homosexual and heterosexual respectively.

And here He comes.

I look up to see His piercing eyes, distinguished crows feet, the way His lips spread when He smiles, the scar that I wanted to press my lips against. His broad shoulders and the way his t-shirts drape him. The way that He stands. The veins that bulge from His forearms and trace down to those masculine hands. His voice, the undertones of power. The way He speaks slowly and intently.

Everything has been questioned.

Never in my life have I been so affected by someone. Just being near Him makes the embers between my legs glow. My entire body tingles and my breathing changes

Never in my life have I felt so beautiful.

Never have I felt so desired.

Never have I felt so craved.

The promise of next time tethers me to this Man. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. This Man makes me feel alive. He makes me aware and proud of my femininity and my womanhood. He sees beauty and sensuality in the things that I don’t pay attention to. He pays attention in a way that I’m not used to and it unsettles me yet I blush when He mentions something that I don’t even recall alluding to.

God, this Man!

The reality is this can’t last forever or anything close to it. It’s an ugly truth that we both recognize. I don’t know about Him but in the moments where it’s just He and I, I choose to pretend. I allow myself to be consumed by the lust and the wonder and the amazement. He and this amaze me.

My better mind would heed to the danger signs that are glaring but I really don’t want to. I want to dive into this. I want to feel this. I want to experience this.

I want Him.

I need Him.

I need this Man in ways that I’ve never needed another person and for reasons that I’m not entirely sure of.  But with all of my questions, all of my confusion, all of my fear and apprehension, He’s there. Reminding me that He is here for His reasons and I’m here for mine. Neither of us is delusional about the veracities that exist in the space away from this. But those truths don’t change this truth.

Whatever this is, it’s amazing. It’s nonsensical. It’s complicated. It’s beautiful.

This is a ride. This is a ride that we both know can’t go anywhere. Yet and still, we’re riding.

We’ll probably jump off before it hits a wall.


An Adventure as Her: Until That Night

To feel a gaping hole within you and to not know why it exists is a painful and troubling sensation. You can’t put your finger on it and you can’t quite find the peg that fits.  You just feel it. You recognize it. But you cannot fix it.

That’s Him. He’s that peg.

He represents a solution to a problem that I wasn’t even sure that I had. I didn’t know that I needed Him. I didn’t even know that I wanted Him, until that night. There was something. I couldn’t just leave it alone. Sure we talked and joked. Sure I didn’t think much of it or Him, until that night. The magnetic energy that existed between us couldn’t be ignored.

I wasn’t expecting anything other than a meeting in passing, a hello, and a face to a name. There was so much more, though I wouldn’t fully recognize it until much later.

We hugged and it was electric. I don’t tend to give much attention to a physical attraction. I thought it was just another ‘thing’ that might grow into another fling. Oh, it grew alright.

We continued to talk after That Night and something began to happen. Tattered wrapping paper was ripped away. Chipped paint was scraped away. He saw something in me that I saw hints of but didn’t nurture. He also saw something in me that, to this day, I don’t see.

As it stands, I feel something towards this man that I’ve never felt for another. I feel something that I thought that I might possibly want if it ever presented itself. He brings a peace to me that I never thought that I’d feel. I feel this inexplicable desire to serve Him. Absolutely nothing about this and us makes sense to me.

I am a control freak. I am over-analytical. I am strong. I am tough (as He says), I am stubborn and I am hardheaded. I am attached and so is He. So why on earth would I feel this indescribable need to please Him and not disappoint Him? I question it within myself but when He puts his foot down, I abide. I listen. I obey.

I rack my brain trying to understand this but I am coming to realize that this just doesn’t make sense. I am also realizing that even though this doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t change how this makes me feel. It doesn’t change how He makes me feel.

Over the years I have found myself in situations where I’ve peeled back a layer or few, but I’ve never allowed myself to be completely naked with anyone. I’ve never bared it all. It’s a terrifying prospect. But He makes me feel incredibly safe. I trust that He’ll never abuse this trust that I’ve instilled in Him. I’ve always had to be “tough”. I’ve always had to be guarded. While I’ve let down the armor enough to let people in some, I’ve never let it all go. And something in me wants that.

It’s an immense pressure to be in control all of the time. Not just in control of things, but to be in control of yourself, your thoughts and your emotions. But something within me is clinging to this Man and I want to bare it all for Him.

What He’s done is create a safe space for me and He wants me to bare it all. He wants me to trust in Him and depend on Him. He welcomes this with no expectations from me other than to listen to his guidance and obey his commands. I can only wonder if this lack of expectation is a result of our respective attachments and responsibilities.

Initially, I didn’t want anything from Him other than to experience Him physically. Remember that I felt this electric sexual energy between us upon our first meeting. That’s as far as I could see. But somewhere along the lines of subtle hints and cues, we found that we were both seeking something more. Whether or not we both knew this is a different story.

Our first tryst happened so organically that I’m still blown away. There were no instructions, no directions, and no cues. He just came in and executed everything that I wanted and needed. He’s always been attentive. So attentive that it surprised me. After that night, I felt like a conversation was in order. This just didn’t make any sense to me.  He was everything that I could want and I didn’t even have to ask? What is going on??

I recall asking Him if the monster was slumbering or if He was waiting around the corner. He said something about taking note of what I said and how I said things. Who knew that subconsciously I was beckoning Him to take me and own me? I didn’t.

And now it stands, this Man has expressed an interest in collaring me and I have expressed a need for Him to collar me. I can’t begin to describe how I feel beyond conflicted, confused, excited, cared for and needed. I never knew just how important this sort of relationship is to me. Then again, I’ve never had the space to explore it with anyone. And the truth of the matter is that I couldn’t have imagined exploring it with anyone better. He’s established that I can trust Him, we’ve fostered a trust between us and He constantly reassures me and soothes any possible concerns.

Thus far, He’s always been strong and assertive, in control and protective and most of all careful in how He handles me. I didn’t see any of this coming. I thought it was something that would have to be suppressed. Then He came along and is slowly pulling me out of my shell and has provided me with an opportunity to bare it all.

I want to bare it all. I want to give myself to Him. I trust that I can.

I can’t ignore all of the other factors that play into this but even still, absolutely nothing about this with Him brings me to feel uneasy, unsure, anxious or fearful. I have never in my life felt as safe as I do with Him. Again, this makes no sense to me.

But at this point in my life, I don’t want this to make sense. I want this to be. I want us to be. In whatever capacity our situations allow.

At any other point in my life I’d hate to admit it but here I am, proud to exclaim, not only do I want Him but also I need Him. The thing is, I just didn’t know that I did.

When a Woman

Tamia said it best.

When a woman stops cryin,
You best believe she has a new plan
She’s preparing for something new
Something that doesn’t include you
When a woman ceases to cry
She bout ready to say good-bye

As a woman we too often find ourselves in situations, be it relationships or “it’s complicated”-ships, where we are under/unappreciated, disrespected, abused, betrayed and/or hurt. Too often we stay too long. Too often we put up with more than we should or that other person deserves. Too often we lie to ourselves and believe they can change. Too often. But why? A lot of us feel that we can’t really do better. A lot of us believe we don’t deserve better. And a lot of us are living in the fantasy, choosing to believe that the good times are better than they really are and conveniently forgetting the bad.

Women’s intuition is a sixth sense that we all have. It’s real. That feeling in your chest, in the pit of your stomach, those hairs on the back of your neck. They’re real. You’re not imagining it. Way too many men don’t believe in this gift, but it’s real. Some of us are more in touch with our intuition than others, but it’s inside all of us. Unfortunately, too many of us don’t listen to that voice, to the feeling. Those of us who ignore our intuition, also ignore the red flags. In some cases ignoring the red flags can be dangerous. That aggressiveness and possessiveness you thought was adorable before is now scary and discomforting. I ignored red flags in one particular relationship and found myself being abused. Sure that’s an extreme example but it’s a real possibility.

Your instincts, those red flags, are not to be ignored.

A weak man will try to discredit your intuition and have you believe you’re just imagining things, you’re crazy, you’re overreacting, you’re insecure- don’t buy into it. If you feel something is off deep inside, trust yourself. Not every woman who believes that something isn’t right is tapping into her intuition, there are some women who are just neurotic and insecure- but i’m not talking about them.

Some men can be so arrogant to believe that they can slither in the darkness and not be at risk for being exposed in the light.

If you can do the dirt, be prepared for the possibility of being left with a mess.

Some women love hard. I am one of them. I don’t open my heart and invite just anyone in. I can interact with someone and enjoy their company, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve let them in. If I have chosen to let you in, that’s a huge deal. I have had some good relationships, and I have had some terrible ones. It’s the terrible relationships that have shaped me into the person that I am [in a relationship] and has helped me establish what I will and won’t tolerate in one. So, if I have granted you the privilege of being apart of my heart, if I have chosen to bless you with my love- that’s a huge fucking deal.

When I am sought for advice on love and relationships, I’m full of suggestions and solutions. I am a great moderator. But just like they say doctors make the worst patients, when it comes to my own, I’m not readily able to take my own advice. I am way guilty of staying in a situation way longer than I should. I am guilty of giving more chances than they deserve. I am guilty of questioning my own intuition. I acknowledge the sensing of something off, but I don’t trust it. When something confirms my sense or suspicion, I kick myself. I knew it! But that’s not too helpful after the fact. It’s difficult to confront someone about something that has yet to happen.

When you give chance after chance  for him/her to get it right and time after time s/he disappoints you and leaves you at a fork in the road, you feel stuck. Do I just cut my losses and keep it moving? But I love him/her. Should I give him/her yet another chance? No, s/he’ll just hurt you again, lie to you again, betray you again. Then you inevitably look at yourself. Is there something that I could have done differently? I should have listened to myself. And God forbid you’re in a situation with a person who will gladly shift the blame back to you. Now you’re confused. Is it me?

Why are we the ones who have to “stick it out”? Why are we the ones who have to wait around for him/her to change? Why are we always so willing to believe that we are enough for him/her to change?

It’s a dangerous place when a woman is fed up, when a woman has had enough. Not nearly enough of us just get up and move on early, it’s usually too late. We too often stay passed the point of reconciliation. We too often stay until we can no longer bear to look at him/her.

Why do we take so long to get it? Why do we stay? Why don’t we trust our intuition?




Note: This post became lost in the drafts and was never published. Oops!

An Adventure as Her: Danger

I can still feel his hands roaming my body. I can still feel his breath on my neck, the cold mirror against my face and my breasts. I can still feel his dick pressing against my ass. I can still remember how my breathing became shallow and my legs became weak.

He untied my dress and it fell to the floor. He told me to spread my legs and not to move.


Spread them wider.


I had a hard time maintaining my balance and I thought I would readjust.

 I said, “don’t move!”


 He spread my legs for me. I didn’t move again.

He kissed me from behind my ear, down the back of my neck, along my spine and I gasped as I felt his big hands on my behind. I could see his reflection in the mirror and I watched him bend over. I watched his face disappear behind me and I knew what was about to happen. I inhaled deeply and I held my breath as I felt his warm tongue slide between my cheeks.

 How did he know?!

The thought didn’t last long; I couldn’t contain my excitement or this pleasure. I exhaled with a moan. My breath’s condensation surrounded my cheek. My legs began to tremble and I desperately needed to reposition them but I didn’t dare move.  His hands were firmly on my waist as he buried his face deeper. I saw the fog on the mirror appear and disappear with my moans and whimpers.

He slid one of his hands in between my legs and began to caress. We had only been in this motel room for 20 minutes, this was happening so fast but no part of me wanted this to stop. He continued to stroke my pussy and I knew that my wetness was ample. I hadn’t been this aroused in a very long time.

He spread my legs farther apart and buried his head deeper and began to taste me. He moved as if my moans were directions. Every thought that I had, he moved like he knew. I thought, lick my ass ag— and he was already there.

He turned me around and I watched him undress. I stared into his eyes; I looked at his pink lips as I bit mine. My eyes roamed his muscular body but they stopped when they saw what was hanging between his legs.



He pushed me down to my knees and grabbed my hair. He guided my head toward his dick, which was beckoning me. Seriously, it looked at me longingly. Maybe it didn’t, but that’s how it felt. It wanted me as badly as I wanted it. I looked up at him searching for approval as he filled my mouth.

He was pleased. He wrapped my hair around his hand and he pulled tighter. He turned my head toward the mirror as he promised he would.

Look at yourself.


As I watched, he slid his entire dick down my throat. I didn’t flinch. I welcomed it. It fit perfectly. My face was shiny, my eyes were glossy but I wanted this. I dreamed of it and it surpassed what my imagination created.

He pulled his dick out of my mouth and turned me toward the mirror. On my knees, he held my hands above my head as he pressed my body against the cold glass. I watched myself as I felt him kissing and licking me.

This is so fucking hot, I thought.

He guided me toward the bed and laid me down. He wrapped his hands around my ankles and yanked me toward him.

God, yes! I said to myself.


He lowered his body on top of me and kissed me deeply. His hands glided along my legs. He loves my legs. His hands found their way to the warmth that was glowing between my thighs. He kissed the inside of my thighs and then licked me slowly. My back arched immediately. I watched his muscular back in the mirror above us. I watched my face contort. I watched my breasts bounce. I’ve never known pleasure like this.

Breathe slowly for me.


I tried my best to control my breathing for him but my body had other plans in mind. He licked and touched inside of me with such finesse. I’ve never had a first encounter go this smoothly. With each stroke I felt like this was supposed to be happening. The stars aligned for this. This gorgeous man and I were supposed to experience each other. There is no other explanation.

I want you to cum for me.


He didn’t have to say that. I wanted to. I planned to. I-I did.

He rolled over and laid on his back. All I wanted to do was taste him again. I crawled in between his legs and licked his shaft. I slowly took him into my mouth. He looked into my eyes and told me what he wanted.

Let me hear you gag.


I slowly lowered my head as far as it would go and let my throat muscles relax. I braced myself with my hands on his pelvis. I bobbed up and down, saliva running down onto his thighs. The sounds seemed to please him. His moaning was driving me crazy. As I continued I could feel his dick swell inside of my mouth. He grabbed my hair and shoved his dick deeper. Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to please him. He stopped me.

He positioned me on the bed how he wanted me. I moved. C’mon, you had to know I was going to move. I was on all fours. I had to! He pushed my back down and lifted my pelvis and spread my legs with such force. My pussy throbbed. He kneeled behind me for a moment admiring my ass and caressing it. Then he spread my ass cheeks and slowly slid inside of me. I could only gasp. He stroked slowly because he knew that I was concerned about his size. As I began to ease into this rhythm he firmly grabbed my hips and slid all the way inside of me. I’m not one to cry during sex but my eyes began to sting. He felt so good. He gradually increased his speed and I met each stroke.


Oh shit!




You like that?




I can’t hear you. Tell me you like that.




I like it!




You love it? Tell me you love it.


I love it.


God, I loved it. His hands are so big and strong; the spanks reverberated throughout my body. Even though the sting was isolated to the red handprints I would eventually see when I got home later that night. He resumed his speed with his hands on my shoulders filling me up. He filled me all of the way up. I wanted to run but I couldn’t move. I had to take it and I did. I took it. I took all of it.

He repositioned me again. He wanted me on my back. He spread my legs. He looked me in the eyes as he slid inside of me. He slid all of the way inside. I clenched with each stroke.

I watched his body move in the mirror above me. I liked the mirrors. It was like I was physically experiencing what was actually in front of me but then I could look in the mirrors and experience it all over again from a different point of view. Watching his muscles tense and relax as he stroked. All of my senses were full of this man. I could smell him, I could feel him, I could taste him, I could— I could have just laid there and allowed this man to devour me. I would have let this man use me up until I didn’t have anything left to give. But we didn’t have the time. I could feel myself inching closer to climax so I took my head out of the clouds. My knees were pressed into my chest and I looked up at him and I asked him to choke me.  I pleaded.

He put my long legs on his shoulder. He placed his hand on my throat and tightened his grip. My entire body began to tingle. He pressed deep inside of me with this steady grip around my neck. I think I underestimated his strength. I became lightheaded. He milled deeper, he gripped tighter and I could feel it coming. With what little breath I could muster, I cursed, I screamed. I begged him to fuck me.

And he did. Well.

Months ago. And I’m sitting here with a real situation on my hands.

Frightening. This is foreign and it’s frightening. This is also intense. I can’t really grasp exactly how I feel. This is the most intensely passionate affair that I’ve ever had.

I can honestly say that I’ve never felt such an attraction to another person. Throw in this incredible sexual chemistry? I am craving this man. I need what he gives me.

Each and every moment of that night is forever emblazoned in my mind. It’s still so fresh. I can still feel his hands. I… think I’m in trouble.

An Adventure as Her: When Sparks Fly

I think the idea of newness as it pertains to relationships is something that isn’t discussed too openly. I mean, I guess I can understand why, but that doesn’t change how I feel about it. There’s nothing quite like a first kiss.  There’s nothing quite like that anticipation or the sparks you feel when you first experience another person.

I’ve shared with you all that I’m in an open relationship. I’ve also shared that I was a butterfly chaser. Meaning, I’ve jeopardized and eventually lost many relationships because the sparks fizzled out and I needed that newness. I needed those feelings again. I needed to feel that anxiety, that excitement, that wonder. I never figured out how to recapture those feelings, so I’d chase them. Lord knows how many otherwise incredible situations I’ve walked away from because of this. Fortunately, my partner and I are in a relationship that enables me to still chase those butterflies without sacrificing what we have.

 We’ve been together for several years now and I have only recently taken advantage of the fact that we’re open. That actually surprised the hell out of me. But I think that just goes to show you that monogamy is a choice. For years I chose to only be with him and experience him. There wasn’t that pressure that comes with the expectation of remaining faithful. I made the choice to remain faithful because I wanted to, not because I was expected to.

 I’ve kissed two people in the time that we’ve been together that weren’t my partner (with the exception of the third in a threesome we had). Only one of those kisses have led to something more, as of now. God, those sparks are incredible; that rush, that lust!

 I kissed her last fall and I can still remember how her soft lips felt pressed against mine. I can still remember how sweet her tongue was. I was hesitant but she wasn’t. She grabbed me by my waist and pulled me closer to her. I ran my fingers through her hair and kissed her back hard. There were eyes on us but at that moment I didn’t care, I couldn’t care. We were melting into each other and it just didn’t matter that we were in the middle of this hotel lobby with hundreds of people around us. We could have and should have gone back to my hotel room but we didn’t. And now I’m counting down until I can see her again, kiss her again and experience her. We’ve been talking about this for almost a year; it’s time to stop talking. The way I feel about her is no secret. She’s incredible and each time I see her body… I can’t wait until we can finish what we’ve started.

Some rights reserved by ChrisGoldNY

 I kissed him a bit more recently. I noticed him a while ago but I don’t think he noticed me. Nothing came of it but I remembered him. We ran into each other again. When I’ve discussed this experience before I’ve made a point each time to make sure that I explain that I was pretty damn drunk. But I’m changing the story. I mean, I was, but I’m not blaming it and I’m not hiding behind it. It’s a part of the story but that was certainly not the catalyst. Even when I discussed what happened with him, I told him that that embarrassed me. Since then, the embarrassment has passed. Now, I keep replaying that night over and over. Walking down a Manhattan street being pushed up against a fence by large hands, my face being held as he kissed me. More soft lips, God his lips were so soft. I can’t remember what we talked about and what we laughed about, but I remember how his kisses tasted. I remember how weak my knees felt when I pulled away to catch my breath. We found ourselves carving out some privacy in a very public space. I’m sure there were wandering eyes and listening ears but that didn’t matter. I’m sure we were making noise but that didn’t matter. It felt amazing. We touched and tasted each other across boroughs and yet, we still have unfinished business.

 At one point, I thought it was wrong of me to chase butterflies. Now I know it’s not the butterfly chasing that was wrong, it’s the jeopardizing of a good thing for a temporary feeling in a fleeting moment. I’m in a different space and now that I’m in a different type of relationship, I have found myself taking a stronger grip on the reigns of my sexuality. I am so incredibly in love with my partner, our relationship is the best that it’s ever been. I’m also ready to allow myself to explore people outside of our relationship because I feel secure enough in what our relationship is now.

 With that said, I have some loose ends to tie up (and possibly untie so that I can retie them) and I’m definitely looking forward to that.

Love is a Losing Game

I was just living my life. You blindsided me with your beauty and your mind. I didn’t see you coming. I am in a place where I can truly say I’m happy but you showed me that I didn’t realize that I was missing something. Though briefly, you added something to my life. Something to look forward to, something that broke the monotony of my everyday. Something that showed me that I was still capable of feeling. Something that showed me that I was still desirous, that I was still beautiful, that I still had it.You brought more laughter and smiles into my life. You touched parts of me, that I had been ignoring for years, without hands.  And just as quickly as you entered my life like a whirlwind, like sand you slipped through my fingers. Like a predator in the night, you’re gone. All I have left is evidence that you were once here, condensation of your breath on the window that’s my heart, a phantom imprint on the pillow that I laid for you, remnants of a scent that I imagined.
I feel like something is missing. It’s incredible to me that what would seem so minor in the eyes of others has made such a major impression on me. And I’m expected to just let it go? Just let you go? Just stand here and watch you walk away? I don’t want to. But I know it’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s best for us, for you. I still don’t want to. I want to be selfish and have you for myself. I want to be selfish and escape for days to your haven. I want to be selfish and inhale your scent, taste your kisses and rub your head until you fall asleep. But it’s wrong to be selfish, it’s wrong to want for me, for us, what will inevitably harm you.I don’t want to hurt you but I also don’t want to see you go.

For you I was a flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is a losing game

One I wish I never played
Oh what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game


An Adventure as Her: That Old Thing

I haven’t written like this in a long time, and you’re my inspiration. I’ve done everything that I can think of to get you off of my mind. Nothing seems to work. My body is betraying my common sense. You’re off limits. So, why is it that I seem to be craving you like I am?I can still remember how your lips feel. I can still feel your sweaty body pressed against mine. I can still feel your hands grabbing my body. I can still feel your tongue between my legs. I am with him and I love him, but my body misses you. I miss you. I want to feel you again. I want to smell you again. I want to taste you again.

We keep doing this dance, stepping carefully so as to not step on the spots where our true feelings have spilled. We speak in metaphor avoiding what we really want to say. I want you, again.

I know we’re both attached but can’t we just pretend for one night that we belong to each other? Can’t we pretend that my body is yours and yours is mine? Don’t you know that no one has ever touched me the way that you have? Don’t you know that no one has made me sing the way that you have? Don’t you?

So many nights I lay here thinking about our time together. So many nights I lay here with my fingers between my legs remembering the last time that you touched me. So many nights I wish that my legs were intertwined with yours, your breath against my neck and my nose in your hair.

I miss those nights of me sneaking in the night seeking what I’ve been missing.

I miss those nights in the tub with you washing my body, kissing my neck, making me speak my truth through moans.

I miss those nights of me running to you because you knew what I wanted and needed if I didn’t. I miss those nights of  you soothing my soul through your strokes and kisses.

I know better. I know you’re with her. I know I’m with him. My body doesn’t care. My warmth doesn’t care. I crave you.

Somethings don’t have to make sense and you between my thighs is one of them. Fuck the questions and over analyzing. Slide into me and show me what I’ve been missing and running away from. Remind me why this happened in the first place!

I lay back and exhale. You’re not here. I’m not there. I just have these memories of what was and I want it again. We know better. We’re attached. Why does what’s wrong feel so right?

As We Lay

It’s been over a year and a half since I last tasted his lips or felt his strong hands all over my body. Once in a while memories of our adventures seep into my consciousness and paralyze me with arousal. You’d think we just had each other yesterday. I can close my eyes and still see his deep chocolate skin glistening with sweat. I can still feel his plump lips all over my neck. I can still feel the warmth of his hands. I can still smell him. If you have never had that sexual partner who you could do any and everything with, with no hesitation, you haven’t really lived. I wish for all of you to have that at least once.

I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He’s a few years older than me. I always wanted him. As a young girl, in no other way than just to say he was mine. As I got older, the fantasies surrounding him matured too. When we ran into each other that day, all of those feelings, the crush, the fantasies, they all came rushing back. We stayed in touch. I was involved with someone, he wasn’t. It was innocent for a while. When my situation became toxic, he was still there. He didn’t encourage me to cheat, he didn’t lure me away. He simply posed a better option. I fought it for a while, and then one day I let myself just imagine it. That was my mistake. The moment that I allowed those thoughts to develop and become vivid, there was no turning back.

He didn’t disappoint.

Each time that we experienced each other we were doing something wrong, something that we weren’t supposed to be doing. I was cheating, and he was an accomplice. I knew each time I lied and escaped for a weekend to be with him that I was wrong. I was so far gone in my relationship and what he and I created was so amazing, I didn’t even care. I was a cheater, but I was also satisfied. I was also happy in those moments. Way happier than I had been at home with Him (my then boyfriend) for months. What we had was so complicated; it’s been difficult to explain since its inception.

We talked, but it was mostly about my terrible situation and making plans to see each other. We wouldn’t talk much when we were together. Clothes were being ripped off within the first five minutes. Words weren’t really exchanged after. I rolled over one way and he rolled over the other. We didn’t hold each other. I’d get up, get dressed and head home the next day. No hard feelings, in fact, no feelings. I think that was the strangest part. I’m more than capable of just having a physical relationship. I just wanted him so badly for so long, I just knew that I would eventually catch feelings. But I didn’t. I tried to force myself. But I couldn’t. I didn’t spend too much time dwelling on this. He served his purpose. After all, I was still in my situation. 80% of the time I was with Him, although my heart was in limbo. The other 20% of the time I was in someone else’s bed, tangled in someone else’s lust, in someone else’s arm, I was someone else’s fantasy. And I loved it.

I don’t think a man has ever craved my body the way that he did. I have never been praised and pampered, the way that he praised and pampered me. He loved every inch of me, every ounce of me. He loved my body in ways that you only read about in books and see in movies. It was surreal, it’s still surreal for me. He wasn’t afraid to tell me how badly he wanted me. He wasn’t afraid to take control of me. He picked me up and held me down, he pulled my hair, he bit my neck, and he sucked all ten of my toes and licked crevices on my body that have never been touched by another person.

I was drowning in my relationship; I was dying as each day passed. When I was with him, he breathed life into me. He reminded me that I’m beautiful. He reminded me that I’m sexy. He showed me that there was more out there than the situation that I chose to remain in. Opposites truly attract. He was something that I wasn’t used to. He was attentive. He was vocal. He was strong and masculine, yet gentle. He wanted to play music and light candles. He wanted to run me a bath and join me. He wanted to massage me and arouse me. He wanted me to climax as many times and in as many ways as my body could stand. And then there’s me. The stuff he was into was just something for the movies; I liked real, raw sex. Ravage my body. Take me here and now. Pull my hair and restrain me. He forced me to explore the other side. He taught me to slow it down and appreciate the small moments. We attacked all of the usual positions and scenarios and then ventured to discover new ways to have each other.

I loved each and every moment of our time together. I fell in love with his sex. I just couldn’t see myself falling in love with him. That’s what tripped me out. We were so incredibly compatible; we were so amazingly in tune. Yet, the moment we were standing up, clothed, and with the lights on- everything that we built laying down just seemed to crumble. We were two strangers in the light, but our bodies were soul mates in the dark. How is that possible? I wracked my brain trying to make sense of it. I tried to force feelings, I tried to force more, but it just didn’t click. We just didn’t click. I wanted more than orgasms and moans, and that was all he could give me. I was able to appreciate our moments but I knew I wanted more. He’s smart. Has a job. Two degrees. Tall, chocolate and muscular. Funny. Sweet. Caring. Considerate. Firm. All of the things I love in men and would look for in a partner. Our spirits just weren’t for each other.

I was confused for a long time, but then I just learned to accept it. What we had was all it was meant to be. A stich in time. Memories that will never be forgotten. A story to tell. The reason why I sometimes clinch my thighs and close my eyes. I see him smiling in pictures with her and I feel no ill feelings. I’m in my (new)relationship, I am  happy and satisfied.  He appears to be happy. She appears to be happy. All is well. I’m glad that I had him in that space and time. He made me feel ways that some women will never experience. For that, I’m lucky and I’m grateful. I’ve learned to accept that our paths no longer coincide. So, I’m left with flashbacks and memories… and I’m okay with that.