Category "Pussy Power & Politics"

Why do women have sex?

Sitting at the bar at Buffalo Wild Wings half ass watching the NBA finals a familiar conversation started about men cheating. The conversation went something like this, ” Men cheat but there is a difference between a man cheating and a man being loyal, see when a man is loyal he has your back but he might dip out on you from time to time but he’s not going to be with the woman he has sex with, she knows to stay in her lane!” So basically from this dude perspective it was all about wanting to have sex with a different woman.

Now add to the conversation, from another dude at the table, ” If she was doing her job I would not be dipping!” Now this is where I interjected because “‘how was she now responsible for your behavior?” I’m like if you want to have sex with another person outside of your relationship, then just make it be just about that-no more no less. In addition to making the woman responsible for his cheating he also stated that there is a silent agreement between women and men that it is ok for men to cheat.

With that being said, of course the women at the table decided to ask if they could accept their women having sex with another man and still be with her……long silences from both and to add insult to injury, I asked, ” Would you be ok with your woman using her chin as a ball rest for another man?” And like the dinosaurs I knew there were, the old, “Women are not wired to cheat, they are not wired to want to bust a nut for the sake of busting a nut!” Add finally, they both proclaimed that if their “women” had sex with another man and they found out they would leave her immediately. Final consensus, they could dish it out but they couldn’t take it.

Now I don’t know where some men get these asinine ideas that women are not sexual, considering they are having sex with a woman. Are the women they have sex with outside of their relationships not women?……..I’m confused. However men justify having sex with other women is their business, if you live long enough, as a woman you will learn the old saying, ” aint nothing better than some pussy than new pussy!”

So with this knowledge, it’s hard to take wanting to “bust a nut” personally just know women also like to bust one to just for the pure hell of it and it might be with another man-deal with it!

Do blondes have more fun?

Portrait of a beautiful young woman

A few years ago, I was given the pet name “Juicy” by a King, as we lay in bed fully clothed. I had intercepted him like a lost package after he got stranded in a New York airport coming from Canada to Los Angeles. After being rescued, he politely demanded that I spend the weekend with him at his hotel along with his chief advisor, as we lay in bed, our feet playing with one another, he began to look at me as if he was surveying me with pleasure without lust and he began to describe the way I looked, he said my hair was bouncey despite what the shampoo bottle blaringly reads,  “UNRULY!” Not that I had a problem with the label because my hair was wild and definitely fought to be free but somehow I bought into the label until he looked at me with the most loving eyes and profound appreciation for Kinks and Curls and then he declared with pure joy that I was “Juicy”.

He had come to this conclusion as he ran his fingers through my hair, as he placed each of his fingers through mine, as he touched my skirt lightly, he softly touched me from head to toe with gentle massages. As he rubbed my feet, he made his declaration that I was “Juicy!” And here- I was thinking that I needed to lose some weight and get in shape, seeing as I am a trained dancer, and have neglected my mistress for quite some time. Now before he made this statement I had a battle in my head from time to time that, something was wrong with my body.

Since that moment that he reminded me that he was a King and jokingly told me “You should be rubbing my feet”, I have always felt the love in the way he touched and spoke to me. He appreciated my body, my hair, my skin and my mind-all the while I would from time to time talk badly to myself about my body. But not bad enough to go to the gym, I’ve always hated PE because the gym and the locker room stinks of feet, must, ass, mold, sweat, and other things I just cant put my finger on it, I got it, it smells like a boy’s room going through puberty-you know the smell. And I don’t give a dam what the price tag is on the gym membership-they all have that same smell.’

So amongst hating the way gyms smell, what I find most intriguing is the way, the gym changes a woman’s body. Working out in the gym the way the fitness industry prescribes makes a woman’s body begin to look very masculine. I parallel this programming, with the way women have been encouraged to engage in the work environment- the push to take on a masculine role and abandon the feminine as a prototype for success. That being said, the summer is coming and we are bombarded with getting our bodies” bikini ready” but if “bikini ready” means, my body cant be soft, supple, curvy and “Juicy!” than I will have to rock the body I have.

Shit I look at myself butt whole naked everyday, several times a day and admire myself with the same approval and joy the King did. Dam, I’m Sexy and “Juicy!”

 

The morning after

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A friend of mine gave his daughter a graduation party and my friend Sam and I were tricked as usual into cooking and setting up for the party, not only did we set up, cook the food, we made sure everyone had what they needed all night. My friend giving the party is Nigerian so there were wall to wall Nigerians. Until a group of young black American men came to the party and right away I caught the eye of a hot and sexy chocolate twenty-something year old. He immediately said a few words to me and I responded with a quick, “hello, cutie how are you?’ Now mind you I said this as I walked past him leaving him standing with the biggest grin. Sometime after that another one in the group, this light-skinned hmmm, hot ass began to tell Sam and I what all his tatooes represented and I was in awe as to how fine this boy was, his biceps flexed as he narrated his stories and all I could think was, ” who the hell said, light=skinned boys aren’t in?’

It was exhilarating flirty with these two all night, they had gotten everyone’s attention at the party and from the on-set of their arrival people made it there business to have contact with them as if what they possessed could some how be transferred simply by being In close proximity of them. Anyway at some point during my hosting, cleaning, replenishing, etc.. I had 2 drinks and the last thing I could remember was money being thrown at me while I danced. The Nigerians are the originators of making it rain while you dance. I also remember the young boys trying to talk us into leaving the party with them, they were persistent.

You would never believe what I woke up to, omg I woke up(fully dressed) on the velvet blue couch of my friend and wrapped around me like lettuce wrapp was a short water-head Nigerian, saying “babe I saved you from those young boys who were trying to take advantage of you” This Ratbastard was acting as if he had done me a favor, I would have preferred to have woken up in the arms of one of the young stallions if I had to wake up in the arms of a man, this dude looked like a short angry turtle. After, prying his paws from my waist and unhooking his legs from mines I found Sam and asked her what the hell had happened. She went on to tell me the sorted details and apparently, the young boys appeal was such a danger that Turtle man stepped in and I passed out on the couch and was informed that he had fondled me in my sleep and Sam had to reprimand his behavior.

At least Vanilla Lattae and Mocha Latte were upfront about their desires and their offers were inviting but the fantasy was interrupted by male jealousy. Extreme exhaustion and 2 drinks should have been a turn off but not to Turtleman, shaking my hand, apparently I got super friendly because when I checked my voicemail, there were several messages from men with the thickest accents I could barely understand anything they said.  What the hell had I done, I had given my number out more times in one night than I have in 5 years to men I had no attraction to, nor who I remembered, nor who I plan on talking to. Don’t get me wrong, I love being African but as superfacial as it may sound being attractive is mandatory, what I find attractive you may not but I don’t know any women personally who are attracted to slimy and creepy men. 

So why the hell couldn’t I have woken up to that  fine ass Nigerian I met at the festival, or one of those blue black Senegalese drummers I have to purposely ignore when I’m moving across the floor for fear I might land in their lap or that model gorgeous African from Sierra Leone with the softest most delicious lips I’ve ever kissed  and more importantly, Who the fuck waits for a girl to fall asleep on a couch and thinks that is a cue to start a cuddling session and doesn’t have the good sense to leave before she wakes up, all jokes aside, had my friends not been there Turtleman would probably have turned into a booty bandit.

” I was saving you from the young boys!, he repeated over again, I wanted to slap the shit out of him from ruining a potential fantasy, it’s official, I’m a Cougar, no I’m a Panther….I’m African.