You’re Making Him Wait?

Many people find it strange that Mr. C and I are practicing abstinence. I’ve heard more than one person ask “So, you’re making him wait?” It really seems to confuse some people. I’m not sure why, but it is funny as hell to Mr. C and I.

Why is it that you view waiting as a bad thing? Am I really making him wait? What is the big deal? These are all the questions that run through my head when I hear someone ask the question of why I’m making him wait. I want to clear up some questions that people may have about us and practicing abstinence.

  1. I’m not making him wait. He’s choosing to wait to respect the will of God over and through my life. It’s his choice. I’m not forcing him. I’m not holding a gun to his head. I’m not promising him a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. LOL, not yet. He’s a grown man who makes his own decisions so he is choosing to wait.
  2. It’s hard. Some days are better than others, but we are in no rush for marriage, so no rush to the bedroom. I hear it gets easier, but I have no point of reference to compare it too since this is a first for me. We are not laying up in each other’s house hanging in the bedroom all night, so that takes away the idea of sexing each other up. We spend time watching TV or going out. No hanging around in the bedroom.
  3. It’s allowing us to truly get to know each other. Let me tell you that even though I’ve known Mr. C for almost 2 years we’re still learning each other. It’s a lot to learn about someone and to really get to know them enough to take their last name. We are truly committed to finding out about each other without making sex the deciding factor that blinds us about each other’s faults.
  4. I don’t care if the sex is bad. Yep, I said it. People have always asked me “What if the sex is bad?” I don’t care. I’m older now and I realize that sex is overrated. Good, but overrated. I’m not that concerned whether or not he can lay the pipe right. With age comes wisdom. I’m older and I would enjoy sex with my husband. Hell, we’ll figure it out in the bedroom. Having someone rub my feet, give me a massage and just have my back matters more than if he’s banging in the bedroom.
  5. He respects my boundaries. Mr. C and I have traveled out of town and slept in the same room and nothing has happened. He’s a gentleman that respects me. He’s not using this time to get to know each other outside of our zip code as a chance to jump my bones. He respects the love and relationship we have and just doesn’t try it. The key to being on the same level is making sure that your partner respects your boundaries.

That’s it. No big secret. No kind of witchery is being used. I’ve just been blessed to meet a wonderful man that sees me for who I am and for what I want and just respects that. I’m not making him wait. He’s choosing to wait.

 

 

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/.

Control

“You always have to be in control” he whispered. I smiled and asked “Who doesn’t want to be in control?” He laughed.

That deep and hearty laugh that I loved. I tenderly kissed his lips. I smiled as I licked my tongue across his lips. I put the blind fold on him.

“My turn” I said. I tightened his neckties around his wrists and tied him to the bed post. He began to rise with thoughts of ecstasy. “Relax baby. I got this” I said. He smiled and said “I love you.”

“I know” I said. I turned on the music. Nice and slow. ‘Adore’ by Prince was blaring through the wireless speakers.

I added the hot oil to his body. Slow and deep I began to massage the oil all over his chest and arms. His stomach and down his legs. Missing his manhood on purpose I began to massage his feet.

“Damn” he muttered.

I smiled.

I began to massage his thighs. Deeper and slower. Making my way up to the most important part of his body. I raised myself up and sat on his member. Sweet satisfaction filled me.

Slowly I began to ride.

I wanted to be in control. This situation. This moment with him mattered. I moved to the rhythm of the music. I controlled my hips to start and stop the pleasure I was giving him.

Control.

I loved being in control. Secretly, he did too.

He begged me to stop. “Not too fast” he stammered. I increased my speed as I rode him. Faster and faster.

He screamed.

He released.

“I love you being in control” he whispered. “I know babe and I love you too” I said.

 

 

Today’s post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt was control

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/.

Ordinary

It was an ordinary day. On an ordinary street. In an ordinary house. In that house sat three ordinary girls. They were laughing and playing and giggling like the 13 year old girls they were. They talked about boys, dreams and their parents.

They discussed how they hated some of their teachers and school was so boring. They dreamed of summer vacations and new clothes. It was almost over. Summer was almost here and they vowed to make this an extraordinary summer.

Savannah logged into her laptop. She quickly logged into a website and started chatting up her new friend. He was an older boy. He was 18. She liked him. They had been chatting on-line for a few weeks now.

She sent him pictures of herself and he always told her that she was beautiful. She liked that. She never thought of herself as beautiful. Cute and ordinary. However, Paul (that was his name) always made her believe that she was beautiful.

He told her she could be a model. Paul asked her to face time him with her friends around. She did. They giggled and smiled and posed as Paul said that they were beautiful and could all be models.

Paul asked them to meet them in the parking lot at the local mall. They agreed. They told their parents that they were going to the mall and would be back in a couple of hours. They were careful. Nothing would happen to the three of them.

They were taught that you always travel together. So, they did. It was nothing special. A bus took them to the mall and they waited in the parking lot by the local Macy’s. They laughed with the fact that one of them had a boyfriend. They giggled.

They weren’t able to date yet.

Across the parking lot, Paul approached them. He was so sexy. He had on nice clothes and shoes and the biggest smile. His teeth were straight. Wow! He was gorgeous.

They were so busy pointing and smiling at Paul that they didn’t see the van pull up behind them and the men grab them and stuff them in the truck. An ordinary black van filled with men holding them down as they struggled and screamed and then went limp.

Ordinary girls are sold into sex-trafficking every day. We need to do something about this. No more silence please.

 

 

This post is part of the Daily post. The word of the day was ordinary.

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/

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/.

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

The Light

I can smell him before I see him. He enters my room looking for me. First, under the bed and then in the closet where I’m hiding. I can hear him coming towards the closet door. I close my eyes and wait. I don’t want to do it again. I don’t like it. I know that if he finds me he will make me do it again. Tony. I hate Tony.

Tony or as he tells me to call him “Uncle Tony” is mama’s new boyfriend. He is big, dark and strong. He stinks. He smokes and drinks dark colored things out of a red cup. Tony comes to the closet door where I am hiding and grabs my hand. He pulls me to the bed and makes me lie down. “Lift your gown up girl” he says loudly in my ear.  Tears roll slowly down my face. I lift up my gown and he smiles. Uncle Tony has crooked teeth. I hate Uncle Tony.

“Yeah, I like that. You’re so pretty Cassie. You look like a princess.” I hate princesses. Princesses are evil. Princesses get bad things done to them. But, I hate a lot of things. I hate princesses, dolls, the boogey man and police officers. I pretty much hate everything, but Jacob.

Jacob is my only friend. No one knows about Jacob.  Jacob says I have a light and I must let it shine. Jacob tells me that he sees me and God is going to help me. Jacob goes to church. I don’t. Jacob taught me a song about my light.

Mama tells me I don’t have friends. She says that Jacob is not real. She says no one likes me and I can’t have friends because I’m not allowed to go to school or play outside.  But, I know Jacob is real. He teaches me things.

Uncle Tony starts to touch me. Slowly. I cringe with disgust and turn my head. I wish that he would hurry up and leave me alone.

I start to sing. I sing slowly and in a low whisper. The only song I know. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” The smack is hard on my face, “Shut up gal! I can’t concentrate!”

My face hurts and tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I can’t see. I can’t see through the tears. The door opens and I hear a loud bang. I jump. I scream and cover my ears.

I see Uncle Tony hit the floor. I close my eyes hard to the sight of the red ring forming on my floor. Uncle Tony’s eyes are open. I cry harder.

Jacob comes to my bed and shakes me. “Cassie, it’s me! It’s me, Jacob. You’re okay Cassie. I got him.”

I open my eyes and Jacob is smiling. Jacob reminds me about my light. I smile and start to sing. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” Loudly.

I look down and see my mama’s gun in my hands and continue singing at the top of my voice “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”

 

© Tikeetha Thomas