Yes, Goddess

Stand there for me. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear anything other than “Yes, Goddess.” Take your shirt off. Take that fucking belt off. 

“Yes, Goddess.”

Circling him. 

Look up. Don’t look at me. 

“Yes, Goddess.”

Hands running down his back. He stiffens. I bite his shoulder. He groans. 

Mm-mm.What did I say? Didn’t I say the only thing I want to hear is “Yes, Goddess”? Now you’ve been bad. 

Circling him. 

You must be punished.

Hands glide down his strong torso to his pants. Gently fingers brush the soft skin where they end on his hips. The button easily comes undone. The zipper falls. The pants fall. His boxers fall too. He is exposed with eyes to the sky; hard as rock. 

Softly, tips of fingers run along the length of him. 

Do you like that? 

With a strained voice, “Yes, Goddess.”

Now you got it. 

A trail of kisses from his strong chest, lingering at his stomach, nibbling his hips, encircling him. Just the tip. Rolling tongue. Sucking so gently. One graceful finger tip moving on the underside of his length. Softly bringing him pleasure. 

Is this good for you baby?

On shaky voice, “Yes, Goddess.”

A strong grip on him. He flinches. I stand. 

I don’t give a fuck about your pleasure. You do as I say. 

I bite his neck.

With tense muscles, “Yes, Goddess.”

I release him. Circling him. Fingers across his body to his back. The crop skimming gently down his spine. 

You’ve been bad right? Now I have to punish you. 

One lash across his strong back. 

On a moan, “Yes, Goddess.”

Rainy Days

I daydream about intimacy in the quiet moments before the rain taps on my window and lightning brightens the dark grey sky. In my mind I imagine dark brown hands roaming my body and full lips pressed against my neck. 

Sad, isn’t it? To only be aroused by the thought of your true love touching, kissing, biting, squeezing, and loving you. 

It’s a craving for intimacy that can only be filled by another person’s contact. A person who loves me. 

To feel the length of him pressed against my backside as he breathes into me. To feel his need for me reaching the peak of desperation.

To be desired… wanted and needed… and loved. 

There is no comparison, no amount of plastic toy pleasure, that could ever parallel the feeling of being desired. 

As the rain begins its soft drum line song against the window, I am aware of the quiet space speaking loudly behind me. Roused from my daydream I can only wish for intimacy sometime soon. 

Lazy Lovers

So I’m scrolling through my instafeed, like I do every day, and I happen upon a very sexy poet. (I won’t name no names but know his poetry will have you ready to put on some Luther and make sweet, nasty lovin). Anyway, so I’m looking through his work and I start thinking…

Never had that happen. Never had that happen. *Clutching my pearls* Certainly never even HEARD of that.

Then I was like, damn son… I’ve never had anyone take the time out to figure out what I like. 

My spirit was crushed, ego deflated, and instantly I was eye rolling. 

How is this possible? Well, I’m a pleaser by nature. I enjoy the acts of giving immense pleasure to my partner but I’m shy when it comes to my own pleasure.

Sounds weird… But I’m being honest. I’m always afraid of looking hella stupid or admitting to liking something way off the wall so I just prefer to be in control. 

Maybe it’s my fault…

BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

Sex is a two way street right? So why is it even the simplest of actions have never happened?  (Clears throat, raises one sassy eyebrow)

Lazy lovers. 

That’s okay though. I’m holding out for a king. A God in bed. Been training up the yoni…opening my hips…dancing… Oh I’ll be ready for him alright. 

In my imagination I imagine me wanting to give and him not accepting because he wants to give. And that would be the sexiest thing in the world to me. Take charge! Boss me around a bit! Be a lil aggressive! I like that shit. (Straightens my tie) Excuse me. I lost my cool but I’m back. 

Back to business. Fellas don’t be a lazy lover. Learn her! Learn what she likes. Eat her like you’re starving and she’s the last peach on earth. Dive in like you’ve been walking through the desert and she’s a lake. 

Ladies, treat him right! Roll your tongue real slow and take him in your mouth deep. Watch how he reacts to certain things. You’ll know when you’ve done a good job. 

Quit being lazy! Learn each other and have fun. Who wants boring sex all the time?

XO

Denial and Acceptance

This is the story about how I have been living in denial and my journey to acceptance. 

Denial. Age 9. My dad loves me and he’s going to come back and take care of me because I’m his child. 

Denial. Age 13. I hate being girly. I don’t like dresses or makeup. These pageants are stupid. 

Denial. Age 15. No I don’t like girls. That’s not right. I like them as friends nothing more. 

Denial. Age 19. I’m not even pretty. I don’t understand what anyone sees in me.

Denial. Age 21. I have a ton of friends! Everyone around me is looking out for me. 

Acceptance. Age 22. I’ve been through quite a bit in my lifetime and that’s okay. Sometimes I’m unhappy and that’s okay. I am absolutely a beautiful person with a golden heart. I care deeply for people and honor them. My goal is to elevate others and myself. I’m a healer and an empath and that is beautiful. 

Acceptance. I forgive my father for not being there. I forgive him because without his absence, I would be a totally different woman. I honor who I am right now. I love who I am, so I forgive you Charles Edward Williams. I forgive you. 

Acceptance. I embrace my feminine energy and my tomboy tendencies. Both of those energies are part of me. I like video games and I like makeup. 

Acceptance. My sexuality is divine. Yes I am attracted to both men and women. It’s my body’s natural response. I’m okay with it. It doesn’t make me deviant, it doesn’t make me unholy. This is a part of my energy and I accept it as is.

Acceptance. My body is phenomenal! It’s a little quirky and cute, but it’s mine and I adore it. I would only seek to improve my health and honor my body further. I understand that my energy is soothing and I provide a safe space for others to come and relax. My spirit is captivating and my insights are treasured by many. I accept and am grateful for all of those who enjoy my presence.  

Acceptance. I see a lot of people around me but I truly only treasure a select few as my dearest friends. I love them! I am so happy and grateful to call them my friends.

This is me. 

Thank you to Svadhistana (Sacral Chakra) and Muladhara (Root Chakra) meditation. I am so at peace. 

Drunk Peaches

You remind me of my Grammy’s drunk peaches…

The juiciest fruit with that little bit of foreign energy. You have this exotic way of arousing me, in fact… 

Mm.

I image you’re something like Hennessy on my peaches mixed with brandy and little rum. A concoction of preposterous potent potential all wrapped into one. Sweet like the vanilla but adding spice to my life like cinnamon. 

See you’re everything like my Grammy’s drunk peaches…

They make you dreamy like a summers night on the back porch swing sneaking kisses under the stars. So case sensitive like sharing secrets late night on the hood of the car. I want to crack your code and watch you spill your soul onto me. 

See the way you carve your words is something like that kick of alcohol followed by sultry peach. Your thoughts run deep and I want you to enter me, mind, soul then body. You can strip me until I’m bare and caress away my fears, and give me that… eye contact…

Mm.

You have such capability to be my favorite sweet treat. But just like my Grammy’s drunk peaches, the distance always wins. 

But I’ll keep you here in the depths of my memory. Picturing your face the first time you get a taste of my peaches. 

Feminine Sensuality: Back At It

I wrote a post about a month ago about feminine sensuality. I’ve still be keeping up with remembering to take time for my yoni, learning the do’s and don’ts, but I never felt truly connected… Until today. 

Today I did something completely out of my comfort zone. I dressed scandalously. Put on my sexiest pair of lace panties, tied a scarf around my breasts (the feeling of soft cloth against my nipples was heavenly), and put on the darkest lipstick. Ladies, we all have that look that makes us feel sexy right? Don’t judge. 

Anyway, I lit my incense and turned off all lights. I turned on Papi Pacify and just surrendered to the music. I got lost moving my hips, legs, arms, touching my skin gently. Incorporating simple yoga poses to open up my root chakra. 

It was the most meditative state I have ever entered while moving. 

And I don’t dance! I’m the awkward one doing the robot in the corner. 

But this was different. 

It was the most powerful connection with my sensual energy that I’ve ever felt.

When I was done I laid on my yoga mat connecting with my breath and squeezing my pelvic floor muscles. My yoni was pulsating from the energy. I laid there for a solid twenty minutes; just breathing life into my body. 

Analysis

Why is it that women are so shamed for loving their bodies? You can’t even talk about your vagina without someone slut shaming. I love my vagina. I think it’s the most scared space I can allow anyone into, and I didn’t always know that but I do now. Maybe that lended to my celibacy. Forced me to get to know what I really wanted. 

Certainly forced me to see men beyond the stroke. This journey has truly opened me to a new world of self-confidence. I mean honestly, I’ve never felt more comfortable speaking about my vagina because I know there are probably hundreds of women who have been through the same thing as me.

“I don’t know why, but regular sex isn’t enough anymore. I want something more. How can I be sensual? Not hypersexual, but sensual. I want to connect deeply during sex to have the most incredible orgasm of my life.”

That’s what sparked my journey anyway. 

Post script

That Twigs video, Papi Pacify, talk about smoking fucking hot. She has the most interesting way of approaching human sexuality. Although my gag reflex was questioning that whole fingers in mouth thing. (Sorry fellas, we all have our limits) 

Legs Closed, Heart Open

When I tell people that I’m celibate I get a few different reactions. The first is “Oh you’re much better than me, I could never give up sex.” The second is “Why though? You don’t like sex?” The third is “Mhmm. Sure you are. I know about your past. You won’t be celibate long.”

Let me be honest, that third one hurts. Anyway let’s get into it. 

Why am I celibate?

Giving up sex is a choice I made for myself. I found myself often in situations where men would use me for sex. They would lie and pretend to care and I would have sex with them thinking that they truly meant what they say. I’ve never seen a man stop “caring” as quickly as one with freshly emptied balls. One day sweet nothings, the next day the silence of absolute nothing.

I’ve been contemplating celibacy for 3 years but I wasn’t ready to commit. I was still hopeful that I’d find someone willing to know my mind and have great sex all the time. (Pipe dream)

So after failed relationship, after failed relationship, and always blaming the men and never myself, I stopped. A hard stop and I took a look at my role in my heartbreak. 

What could I possibly be doing wrong? And I looked at my past and realized sex was a big factor in the failure of many of my relationships. My hyper-sexuality and simultaneously detached emotions caused communication breakdowns and an overall lack of intimacy. (Have you heard the song Bad by Wale?)

I sat down with incense burning for my meditation to have a little chat with God. I opened my heart and my direction was clear: No more giving up the kitty cat if I wanted to be shown my true love. 

When I concluded that meditation, I felt more connected with my purpose and my true self. Since then, I’ve paid close attention to the men who approach me. I can see through the ones who just want sex. I can sense genuine attraction versus lustful attraction. 

What is celibacy?

Celibacy as defined in my life is a complete lack of sexual intercourse in any form. Yeah that means oral too. No touchy my yoni. 

Is celibacy hard?

Yes! Well sometimes… I have very little desire to be sexual these days simply because I crave that connection. I find myself fantasizing more about being held and kissed intimately than I do about having sex. However, I anticipate the true challenge will be when I fall in love and still resist sex because I want to be sure his heart and mind is in the same place as mine. Forever or no nookie. 

How do you manage desires?

Honestly, I write. I write down what I want and let that energy go. Then I leave it on the paper. I also meditate on what I want in a husband/lifetime partner. Focusing on what my goal is helps curve the energy to other areas. For example, I like to think about falling asleep in his arms or watching him struggle with his tie getting ready for work. Things that love will enhance. These things keep me focused on loving the man not his penis.

Don’t you like sex though?

YES! 1000% yes! I love sex but I love my future husband more. My past relationships have helped me to grow and sexually I know what I like and don’t like. It’ll be easy to communicate those things with my future husband. To the people who like to bring up my past, please understand that I am fully capable of change. I have and will continue to turn down offers for sex. I want to love my future husband and that’s it. 

Demi, Bi, Sapio

Demi, bi, sapio. Adjectives, connotations, prefixes.
My fix is you.
I prefer to remain closed. A door has lost its handle.
A candle glowing softly seen through the crack in the curtained window.
Is someone there?
It doesn’t matter who knocks.
No emotion or intelligence means the door remains closed; sealed shut until one pries it open.
Even as such…the curse has been laid and just maybe the right antidote
will see the sweet candle light the hidden room. ||

I grew up in a Christian household believing that a female belonged with a male, a man and his wife, that’s how things were supposed to be. I didn’t know what it meant to be anything other than straight.

The first time I remember discovering my sexuality I found myself aroused by another girl at age 10. I was confused by my body’s reaction and felt immediately wrong. I tried to stop the feeling and the reaction but it persisted. What the hell?! How could my body betray everything my mind knew to be right? 

The anger and confusion ate at me. Everywhere I looked I saw boys with girls and didn’t understand why my body wanted something different. I didn’t know what to believe or who to talk to, so I prayed to God to remove the feelings. I blatantly avoided other girls and hated them for making me feel wrong. I prayed and prayed to feel more like a normal girl. 

Middle school came and I was relieved when I found that my excitement applied to boys. But not just cute boys, they had to be smart too. The ones who would raise their hand in class to answer the toughest math questions and the ones who read eloquently caught my attention. 

So I didn’t tell anyone but God about my attraction. 

I pushed the uncomfortable feelings down into the depths of the darkest corner of my mind and pretended they didn’t exist. I felt some normalcy throughout middle school, yet it lingered… In the back of my mind like cigarette smoke. 
I dated boys. Liked the way they made me feel. But I couldn’t face myself. I had no idea who the hell I was carrying this big secret around. 

High school drifted into view and I learned for the first time what it meant to be gay. I didn’t feel like I fit that either. I liked boys after all. I started having normal hetro sex in high school. No emotions attached of course. I didn’t care. I hated myself so how could I care for anyone else?

Then I met a bisexual girl, and I felt the reigns on my secret slip. She understood! She got it. I felt relieved. But they teased her. Called her a freak. I wanted to console her. I stuck up for her in the locker room when the other girls wouldn’t go near her. I wanted to scream how much I understood her, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t…not yet. I wasn’t sure. 

I got drunk my junior year in high school. A girl was there. My friend. She was beautiful. We kissed and I felt the rush. It was honestly better than any hetro sex I’d ever had at that point. The relief, the understanding… I never questioned it again. I knew exactly what I was and I was okay with it. I came out to my closest friends soon after and they didn’t even flinch. I was still the same girl, they said. Sweet relief for the first time. 

Until college… “God hates the gays. You’re going to hell.” They would shout with bibles in hand confirming my fears. “Faggot! Dike! Sinner!”

The blood drained from my face. I already told God… I couldn’t even attempt hiding it from Him. I panicked momentarily. Hell wasn’t a place I wanted to go. The wrongness settled again. Why would they think that a loving God could hate anyone?

Then clarity… I didn’t feel like God could ever hate me. How could God hate me for feelings He gave me? That didn’t make sense. Maybe I didn’t believe in the same God as them anymore. I decided that it was people who were inherently hateful not God. So I went searching for who or what God meant to me without their influence. (I found God btw in the greatest way, and I’m completely in love with God and myself.)

***

In my youth, I felt lost in my desires to be normal. I denied myself the right to feel my true feelings for years. I developed a callousness towards sex and relationships and longed for someone to understand everything that I was, without judgement. Empty sex plagued me. Empty feelings and denial was my norm.

I need more to feel fully aroused. It’s not as  simple as a single touch. I can’t handle the emptiness that follows sex with someone I don’t know nor love. I can appreciate the exterior and not feel the pull of sexual desire. I need mental stimulation. I need to feel emotionally close. I can’t function sexually without it. 

In an adult dating pool filled with overly sexual people I crave intimacy. It seems a foreign concept, so I choose celibacy. I don’t want just anything from just anyone. I haven’t lost hope, I just don’t want to be used and manipulated by the highly sexual people that surround me. 

I guess that makes me demi, bi, sapio… celibate.