When the D*ck Has You Delirious

Most women can remember a time when they had some good sex. A time when all you wanted was a good piece of meat to take the edge off. That man was a champion lover. He knew all the right moves. He was beyond addictive with his bed skills. But, you couldn’t make it work.

Why not?

Probably because he was a male whore. He knew his skills were beyond compare and he felt it his need to share it with every Jane, Sue and Leslie in town. He was a hot commodity. He never really wanted for a traditional relationship. They bothered him. He didn’t have time for one woman. He wanted many.

He wined, dined and probably 69ed you and you started to catch feelings. You imagined a future with him. He was amazing. He was smart, funny and so sweet to you. You my friend were delirious. He was a piece of d*ck that you enjoyed. You and many others.

He didn’t make it a secret that he couldn’t be a one woman man. There was no reason to pretend. You just got your feelings hurt girl! You started to believe that he could be more than just a booty call. That you could love a man that didn’t love you. You fell for it.

You would pull yourself away from the man who you knew could never love you and go running back each time you felt an ache between your thighs. For what? The same old same old. See, this man is a player. Nothing wrong with it. You just have to know that you’re nothing more than a chess piece and get the hell up from the board.

You need to understand your worth. You need to value yourself more than you do the piece of meat between his legs. You need to stop wasting your time. You see what I’m saying? It’s not him love, it’s you. You are allowing this man whose time has expired to occupy space in your life and in your bed and then trying to convince the rest of us that you are just f*ck buddies.

Naw, boo. You’re playing yourself. Buddies implies that he has respect for you. He doesn’t. He calls you out your name. He makes you feel inferior and puts you in situations that you claim you didn’t enjoy. You begin to change and adapt to his whim knowing deep down inside he doesn’t give a damn about you.

But, you insist on trying to make the world believe that you are in control of the situation. You’re not. You’re in denial. You see the disrespect. You see the writing on the wall and yet you continue to engage. The d*ck is bomb is what you say.

Whatever sis! While you’re dipping and riding all over his joy stick you’re killing yourself slowly. Both physically and mentally with a man that could give a rat’s a*s what you think. He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t value you. He doesn’t comfort you.

Why should he? You’ve made it too easy for him not to care. It’s not his fault. You allow the continued disrespect. You like it. You see no value in you only what you think you can offer him.

No amount of sex will keep a man. You could be an Olympic gold medalist in the bedroom, but if a man doesn’t respect you, he won’t be kept. So, stop letting the d*ck confuse and abuse you and look in the mirror and love yourself.

Love yourself more than you’ve ever loved yourself and untangle your soul from the foolishness of this pseudo relationship. You will find yourself happier and healthier. Be honest with what you want and who you want and know that you deserve more.

 

 

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links:  Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Life of Regrets

It is at the end of a man or woman’s life that they really begin to ponder things. Did I live a good life? Did I enjoy it? Was I good person? Did I leave the world a better place than when I found it?

Or at least I hope that is what we’ll do.

I have been thinking a lot about the life yet lived and the mistakes that we make when faced with the possibility of death. No, I’m not dying. I’ve been sick, but I’m recuperating. That’s why my posts have seemed erratic lately. Please bear with me.

But, I told ya’ll last week that my daddy had a pace maker put in and I was worried about him. His family was calling and asking me about a living will and what do I want to do with the surgery and being his decision maker. I started freaking out. What do you mean? Is he conscious? Can’t he make the decisions on his own? I don’t know about the will. He mentioned it a few times, but I’ve seen or signed nothing. Ugh!

I was overwhelmed and frustrated to say the least. I was told they would call me back and they didn’t. I just called the hospital and spoke to his nurse in ICU. He was conscious. He was able to make the decisions on his healthcare. He wanted the pacemaker.

I got answers. I was happy that the hospital was being very concerned about my dad’s health. They took down my phone number and called me. There was a wonderful nurse who told me she was trying to let the social worker know what my daddy needed when he went home. He needed a nurse. He needed help. He didn’t have a phone.

She asked me about my dad’s military service. My dad said he was a vet. He is. He is a vet. He was dishonorably discharged. The nurse said “He told me he wasn’t dishonorably discharged and he has papers to prove it.” I sighed. It was 1:30 in the morning. I responded in exasperation “My daddy is an alcoholic. He’s had a drinking problem all his life or at least for the last 35 years. Too much drinking and smoking. His brain cells are gone. He can’t produce any paperwork and I’m too tired to argue.”

She was sympathetic as I explained that I am the only one of a possible 9 children still speaking to him. One out of 9. That’s his life. So, I have no reason to lie. He’s broke and sick. He’s one of the forgotten. I just don’t know how to feel.

She understood. She listened as I explained that God had told me to forgive my daddy. That God told me that it in order for me to be blessed I had to let go of all the pain my daddy caused by not being in my life. She said “Me too. I know exactly what you mean.” She said she would help him. She would exhaust her resources.

Apply for Medicare. Do everything she can. Thank God for her.

She didn’t have to go above and beyond. It was appreciated. I wasn’t there. I knew at that moment that I needed to go home to see about him.

I talked to him the next day. He was moved to ICU to his own room. I called and heard his voice. He’s alive. He’s able to make his decisions. I told him the calls I received from his relatives. He said that he knew.

I was exhausted. Emotionally and mentally. It’s hard loving a man that you don’t really know. I’ve spent 11 years of my life with this man and 31 without him. It’s hard trusting him to not come in my life and hurt me again. I’m not his only child. I’m one of many.

My dad said that he wants me to contact his other children. To reach out to them and ask them to talk to him. I won’t. I can’t.

I feel that God gave me the message in order to move me from the pain to the promise. He may not have given my siblings that message. It’s not for me to clean up my daddy’s mess. I’ve said to him that he needs to find a way to clean up his own mess. That you can’t ask me to do what you should have done a long time ago. Be a man to your children.

I know that he’s living a life of regrets right now, but I can’t help him. We are all responsible for the choices we make. Good, bad or indifferent, you have to know that there will come a time when payment is due for your negligence. I wish that his regrets were more of the life not traveled, but I know they are more about the man he wasn’t and the forgotten children.

The Mask We Wear

I sat across from my girlfriend last night telling her about my problems. She and I were friends in high school. We reconnected at our 20 year class reunion three years ago. She was the photographer for Munch’s last birthday party. Our children were two years apart.

She and I had shared values. Raising wonderful boys. The seriousness of sisterhood and the desire to see women succeed. We put our boys in similar programs and always shared information. But, this was a first for me. Sharing my pains with her. I had a stressful day. I needed to talk to someone. We had plans.

So, I poured my heart out. I slowly drank my glass of water. No wine for me. I was upset. I refused to drink my calories rather I opted to indulge in dessert. I needed one. I deserved one.

As I sat there pouring out what had been going on with me for the last few months. I was teary eyed. I told her that I couldn’t understand why my son’s father and I couldn’t get a long. I was trying. I couldn’t continue to live like this.

She asked me about my marriage. Why did my marriage fail? I looked her in the eyes and said that I wore a mask. I had a mask on every day for the majority of my marriage. He didn’t know me. He couldn’t see the mask that I wore. He liked that “fake” me. I was living a lie.

I told her that there were many reasons. I could blame him, but I shared some of the blame. I lived a lie. I thought at the time it was my truth, but with each passing year it became more and more unbearable. I was literally drowning. Slowly.

Underwater and never to be seen.

He couldn’t see it. I explained to her that I realized that all women wear masks. Especially if you are a Type A personality. You tend to be the overachiever. You know the “I’m a Woman” type? You know the lyrics from Peggy Lee’s “I’m a Woman”…

“I’m A Woman”

I can wash out 44 pairs of socks and have ’em hangin out on the line
I can starch & iron 2 dozens shirts ‘fore you can count from 1 to 9
I can scoop up a great big dipper full of lard from the drippins can
Throw it in the skillet, go out & do my shopping, be back before it melts in the pan
‘Cause I’m a woman! W-O-M-A-N, I’ll say it again

I can rub & scrub this old house til it’s shinin like a dime
Feed the baby, grease the car, & powder my face at the same time
Get all dressed up, go out and swing til 4 a.m. and then
Lay down at 5, jump up at 6, and start all over again
‘Cause I’m a woman! W-O-M-A-N, I’ll say it again

If you come to me sickly you know I’m gonna make you well
If you come to me all hexed up you know I’m gonna break the spell
If you come to me hungry you know I’m gonna fill you full of grits
If it’s lovin you’re likin, I’ll kiss you and give you the shiverin’ fits
‘Cause I’m a woman! W-O-M-A-N, I’ll say it again

I can stretch! a green black dollar bill from here to kingdom come!
I can play the numbers pay the bills and still end up with some!
I got a twenty-dollar gold piece says there ain’t nothing I can’t do
I can make a dress out of a feed bag and I can make a man out of you
‘Cause I’m a woman! W-O-M-A-N, I’ll say it again
‘Cause I’m a woman! W-O-M-A-N, and that’s all.

I was living up to this song. Doing it all. Dying a little bit each day. Inside. I smiled on the outside and accepted the compliments when people commented on how I did it all? They would say “You make it look so easy. You work full-time, care for your child, attend every meeting, fund-raise for the school and then send out custom holiday cards or birthday cards, mother’s day cards, etc. How do you do it all?”

I was dying. I was trying to live up to the perfect woman with a smile on my face masking the real me. But, cracks showed in my marriage. He complained about the lack of sex. I was exhausted. It had nothing to do with attraction rather than exhaustion. I was too tired to perform my wifely duties.

 

 

This is a two part post. The second post will be continued tomorrow.

Fierce

She loved him dearly.

Each and every day she cooked and cleaned the house.

She catered to the children.

She worked a full-time job.

Her wardrobe was stylish.

Her taste was impeccable.

She was the envy of many women.

“Girl, you’re fierce!” she often heard as she walked down the halls.

She smiled.

She loved her life.

She was fiercely protective of it.

That’s why she insisted on pleasing her husband always.

She believed that in order for him to stay loyal she must be willing to adapt.

She loved him and he loved her.

She donned her black garter belt and zipped up her thigh high boots.

She smacked him with the whip across his ass.

He licked her boots.

She smiled.

She liked being in charge.

She bent over and said “Eat maggot”

 

 

 

 

This post is part of the Daily Post. The word today was fierce

Never

Jackie thought long and hard about what was about to happen. She loved her some Gabe. Gabe was sexy, strong, intelligent. He was as the old folks described “a tall glass of water.” She never thought she would love someone like Gabe.

Or that he would love her back.

Love was foreign to her.

Many men thought they loved Jackie. They didn’t. They loved the idea of her.

Not Gabe.

Gabe told her that he was in love.

That she was the one.

That she had to be his.

She knew too. She knew deep down in her heart that in this space where air felt so electric and love felt true. She knew that she belonged to Gabe. That she had to be his.

But, never.

Never in a million years did she think her life would be like this.

That she would be in love.

That she would be in lust.

That she would be in heaven.

With another woman’s man.

Gabe belonged to another woman.

He vowed his life and fidelity to another.

Then why was Gabe kissing her?

Licking her?

Tasting her?

Sucking her?

Making her moan…

His name.

As she’d never done.

When he knew that he could never.

Never be hers completely.

 

This post is part of the Daily Post. The word for today was never

Last Night

Late night laughter filled the room

There was a shift in energy when you looked at me

My heart quickened as you leaned in to kiss me

It was surreal

 

Our friendship was changing and evolving into something unknown

I was captivated by the essence of you. You were different.

Strong. Silent. Unexpected.

I leaned in to feel your lips on mine and the experience was electric.

I was shocked and overwhelmed by all the sensations running through me.

 

I felt your lips down my neck and your hand explore my breasts and I lost it

I couldn’t contain my desire or the surge of having you.

You, I wanted you inside me.

 

But, you are no amateur to seduction.

You took your time exploring my body like a man dying of thirst

Each lick and suck was overwhelming me.

Your tongue had me speaking languages I never even studied

 

I was panting and squirming and moving so much you had to hold me down so you could feast

Feast at my center until I cringed and screamed your name in pleasure

You were unrelenting in your exploration and adoration of my body

I was reeling from multiple orgasms

 

I counted four, but I can’t seem to account for those five minutes where I swore I blacked out

You looked at me. You observed my face as you slowly slid the fullness of your manhood inside of me.

Expanding me in ways I didn’t even know existed

I cringed in pleasure and pain and began to move with you in rhythm

Wanting and waiting for you to elevate me spiritually with another melodic burst of pleasure

 

You did. I couldn’t stop shaking.

I smiled. You tenderly kissed me. My nose. My eyes. My lips and I knew.

I never wanted that feeling to end.

 

© Tikeetha Thomas

Truth Tuesday – 4/5/2016

One of the things that I try to do is be open and honest in my blogging, heck in my life. I tell you the truth. I’m human. I’ve had failures. I’ve had successes. I’ve suffered. I’ve survived. I’ve learned. I’m still learning.

But, is it important that we be open and honest when we write? That we share pieces of our lives, our soul and our truths? Or should we just write what we want whether real or imagined to gain followers? I don’t have the answer to those questions. I think it depends on the type of blogger you want to be.

I chose to be open. It is when I’m open about my life both good and bad that I feel like I can see the growth. That I can see the changes that can and need to take place. Being open allows me to know that whatever the circumstance, it is only temporary. Why? Because look how far I’ve come. My life is a testimony.

A testimony that I readily share with others because you need to know that I’m just like you. Or that I’m different from you and that what I’ve overcome and continue to learn about myself is only the beginning. I’m a work in progress.

When you see me crying, smiling, laughing or just living you need to know that there is a story there. That I have been broken and thought I was dying, but I survived. You can and will too. No matter what the circumstance may be.

I strive to be better each and every day. I know that by sharing my testimony that I am hoping to encourage someone to know that this situation is temporary. You can’t get to better days by not enduring some rough nights. When you endure those painful, gut wrenching and emotional nights…write. Write about the pain. The story needs to be told.

Share your testimony with others. Be the link that they need to grasp onto when they feel like all hope is gone. Minister to their spirit. Preach to their soul.  We all have a story. We all have a testimony. Let them see how you overcame. We all can be the change that someone needs.

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This post is a part of Jacqueline’s Tuesday Trickles.