30 Days... 30 Posts: Day Twenty Nine

So I'm horny

I'm also a little tipsy

And I also just had an interesting convo with a friend

Normally, a little fried fish, good convo and a few adult beverages would soothe a savage beast, but today it ain't working. I could poke a hole into something right now, and I really need to release, but you guys know me... I need spiritual stimulation in order to have a little sensual rhythm.

Damn.

Way too many diseases and ulterior motives hanging out here to even think about casual sex. But there is one person that I am willing to purchase a plane ticket to go and visit. And when I get there I would surely beat it up.

Three or four times.

To hell with that, maybe five to seven times, we ain't never done it and I need to show and prove. Put a brotha on speed dial.

Maybe she'll quit her job and just stalk my ass...

Have you ever been stimulated to the point where you could just strip down and taste that person in public, right in front of your mama and not give a damn? I was taken there by someone, and now I really need to get this monkey off my back. And I don't masturbate, so I'm having a hard time (no pun intended... okay, pun intended, it's affecting the way I walk) and I hate when I can't have what I want when I want it.

Just makes me wanna get to the gym and try to work that shit out, get frustrated and go over there and just take it. If she lets me.

I really wanna just go over there and just bang it out and sop up all the juices until the soreness kicks in.

And then do it again.

I could really hurt the bottom of my tongue from licking her waaaaaay too much. I need to know the how as far as the texture of her nipples are concerned. I am a skin freak. I get off of color and texture, soft and rough. I want to feel that softness crash up against my abdomen as I apply much thrust from behind. I need her to remember just how deep I can dig.

I've been here in Chicago for 2 months now, and there is one sound I miss. No, not the sound of road construction at 4 in the morning. Not even the air raid alert every Tuesday at 10:30 am. I miss the sound of flesh crashing against each other. That sound of moistness, skin and the subtle slap of flesh in a rhythmic format. I miss the sound of baited breath and nasty words as they collide with my ears. Unnecessarily lustful phrases of lust with a touch of violence:

"Fuck the shit out of me"

and that's a basic one.

Do I really need to be the human equivalent of a laxative? Nope, but I sure do miss trying.

I remember coming home from work with this feeling in my quads and lower back. See I knew when I was going to get some and my body used to prepare for it in the car. By the time I'd get to the front door, my desire to be all long winded and conversational was cut short because I had the firm desire to bring my thrust from as far down as my ankles. I really wanted to put the same effort I did in the gym earlier that day. I needed to have her beg for mercy, so I would just come in and start puling sweats, panties, what have you down. I would pin her up against the full length mirror because of my vain manner and arrogance. I would make sure I wasn't the one that got tired and wanted to pass out.

I made sure we knocked shit over and she had ample time, space and opportunity to yell because I wanted the neighbors to know that I wasn't no mutherfucking joke. Plus, no relationship is guaranteed, so there might be a prospect that wanted and need to get done like that... Just spying. Rubbing all over themselves wishing that I had come over there instead...

Wait... I'm blogging, not on some sexual rant!


ERASE... ERASE!!!