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When am I going to

See you and free you

When can I have your

touch on my tongue

your taste on my skin

When may I tame your

hunger and stifle

your loneliness

When will I welcome your

mess in my wilderness

Pizza & Failed Seduction

He loved to feed me while feasting on me. I remember he ordered my favorite bacon and pineapple four corner pizza and invited me over for dinner. Upon entering his I noticed the table was prepared for me. There was a napkin, a wine glass, a bottle of my favorite wine, a packed bowl, and a lighter on the table. Of course I chose bud over wine. He took his best leather couch, a green one, out to the balcony for me to sit on while I inhaled my joy.

I came back inside furiously hungry and he knew it. He told me, “you can sit on that seat if it’s more comfortable.” It was. So he brought the box over to me and I picked out two corner slices. The first bite was glorious. He sat on the floor beneath me looking up as I tore into it.

I hadn’t fucked him in a while because the new relationship energy was dying. I felt virtually no excitement for him, and his tongue that had felt so good before was now losing to my flesh-like toys and uberlube at home. Before I knew it he was kissing up my calves then up my thigh, raising my dress to reach my pussy. It was not wet. He motioned for me to lift my hips so he could pull my panties down. I told him “I just wanna eat”

He backed off a little but not for long. Soon he was trying to eat me again. This time pulling my panties to the side and shoving his head in my lap to get to my clit. I did not move to accept him. I was pretty focused on the pizza and he was truly beginning to annoy me.

That night, the only meat I let inside me was pizza topping. It wasn’t immediately noticeable to me in the moment that his plan was to try to seduce me by buying my favorite food, with my favorite loud, and my favorite wine, then giving me head in hopes that all those things would make me more receptive to his cock. He tried it with plenty of my other favorites. He would always ask what my favorite dish was at such and such restaurant and then magically be there when I was at work, otherwise occupied, or simply refused to see him. Then he would send me pictures of the things I loved saying “wish you were here.”

In the beginning I thought it was sweet but couldn’t help thinking, “why doesn’t he have tastes of his own? Why is it always only the things he knows I like that he ends up getting?” It got old really quick, and kind of creepy now that I look back. Little did I know, this was all some sort of strategy of association. Pairing his presence with the things I liked to make it seem like I must like him too since he’s surrounded by my favorite things.

Well that strategy did not work. It pissed me off more than anything. Thankfully, my disgust for him didn’t translate to disgust for those food items. I was asking my new man about what pizza he likes and this memory of the Fraud I was Fucking came to mind. My favorite thing about my new man is that he has a personality. He has his own likes and dislikes, and though he will compromise to accommodate me, he is truly authentic in his expression of self. My second favorite thing about him is how hard he makes me cum after getting my consent to play with my pussy.

I finally know what it’s like to be DP’d

I’m very new to butt play, and for me it’s kind of like learning a new language. I’m not perfect at distinguishing what feels good or isolating specifics when something is inside me. But what I do know is I very much enjoy sensations on top of sensations, the more the better.

My DP experience included a teeny tiny plug slightly thicker than a skinny tooth brush, but in the flesh-like material that is very adaptable to my body. It was that in my ass, a finger in my pussy, and a vibrator on my clit that created this new world of sensations for me.

With the toy alone in my ass, I almost feel dizzy. I can feel it but I can’t localize it like I can with something in my pussy. It’s hard to take by itself because my body struggles between wanting to push it out and relaxing to take more in. But with the other stimulation in place, my body is too distracted by all the pleasure to clench up and focus on fear.

So it’s easy for pleasure waves to transfer to the ass and make it feel more pleasurable too. Eventually it felt so good that I could keep plug in without a problem. And that’s when it happened, something that I’ve seen in films but never thought I would experience myself — the double penetration.

I was face down with my back arched and ass tilted towards him. With the plug in place and snug, he took out his finger and inserted his cock. I felt so full. He started to move in and out, nudging the toy with his cock with each motion. It was immense, the sensation of him and something else inside me. Small as it was, it was very noticeable and quite often I felt like I was so close to coming that I’d fucking explode. For me, DP was like extended edge play, an exquisite experience.

Dirty Dancing in DC

Darnell ignited a fire in me that I forgot I possessed. His body against mine felt devine. Elegantly sculpted, firm, young, agile. He laid lust and raw energy on my lips when he kissed me. I was so consumed by my desire for him that my hands found their way to his muscular glutes and up under his gray sweater, fighting, aching, desperate to feel the warmth of his flesh.

I suppose the lust between us was noticeable because a girl walked over to us and turned me around. “You two are so sexy,” she said, dancing on me, then placed a gentle hand on my shoulder hinting for me to bend over. I did not fight it and neither did he. She backed away and watched while I twerked on him and maintained eye contact with her. His erection bulged against my ass the entire time. She watched in approval. I grew more animal, craving his flesh, his affection.

When I finally turned back around to face him, I decided then and there – I had to know how it felt to touch him. Touch him for real. My hands ran from the back of his head down his sides. This pattern was familiar, but I didn’t go for his legs this time. I moved my hands to the front of his pants, over his firm abs then down the pants to catch with my fingers a little taste of his hardness from outside the clothes.

His cock echoed strong through the fabric, firm and lengthy. He sighed and looked at me. I could tell he wanted me. Later, I apologized for the violation. He’d been so polite, asking if he could kiss me and assuring me he was not a threat.

The only thing he wanted was more time. More time on the dance floor, time at his place, or time at mine, time in the bathroom if that’s the only place we could find. I was tempted to give in. Tempted to fuck him, but that night I got more than I came for. I got to reconnect with a part of myself that I’d been missing. I got to feel my desires run strong, and that was enough for me. Besides, I knew when I got home to my toys I’d make myself cum better than some stranger ever could.

Fucking A Fraud

Forecasting my future, I told him “I don’t want kids. My work will be my legacy. My company will be my ba—”

“Fall in love with your customers, not your company!” Before I finished he began.

He went on and on for fucking ever about how you can’t get too attached to your work, how companies fail all the time, the ways one must prepare to start over, and some Chinese man named Jack who he had a failed startup with.

What’s the fucking point though?

I often wonder what it’s like to be that self-centered, so fond of the sound of one’s own voice. Does he even hear it anymore, the shit he stinks my ears with? He spoke so long that I grew exhausted. Too tired to explain the argument I’d originally harbored. Subconsciously though, I refused to let him win.

“Why” I said softly, “why do companies fail?” I had to speak with a hint of suspense and seductiveness to keep him quiet. “Companies fall flat or get knocked off. Companies are bought or sold, or in some other form, restructured or dismantled entirely. Companies don’t crumble because the founder loved them too much.”

“But a company is just a name, an idea. The customers make the company. When it falls they stand.” He was wound up. It’s like the more ideas I presented, the more he made it his mission to convert me. Like fucking me wouldn’t be as good until he tamed my thoughts.

Of course I had words, seductive words. “You’re right.” I knew his dick would twitch to that. “It’s just a name and an idea. Proof of concept comes from generating interest. It comes when customers believe in the brand, the product, and the people – you. They must fall in love with you too for the the business to work.”

I could see the words forming by the roll of his tongue, so I lifted my hand.

“Let me ask you this, how easy is it for you to fall for someone who isn’t invested in anything?” He scratched his chin. I didn’t give him the opportunity to answer.

“Personally, I’m usually the target of more romantic attention when I have a lover. It’s like people see the joy I wear and want to peel my clothes off more from that than from whatever the hell my single self was emitting. So falling in love with the customers is useless if they can’t see how enamored you are with your business.”

Until the conversation above, I was blind to the beast in my bed. My lover was a faux physicist and a wantrepreneur. It wasn’t until I got into specifics about building a business with him that I figured out he was a fraud. He presented himself as a modern day Nikola Tesla, a victim of his industry, but the truth is he was nothing more than a less eloquent version of Ellsworth Toohey.

•Art by Shaza.Wajjokh•

Sax Sounds

She was one of the first roommates I had who I wasn’t attracted to. Not until the time I heard her. Her voice soaking with sounds the wall that separated our bedrooms.

She was my second roomie that summer. First to invite me along with her friends and spend time with mine. That’s how I came to pass my date – a green eyed, lightly complexed complication, onto her. 

I was too broken to pay him the right attention. So I told her, “take this one, I just called him by my ex’s name.” I didn’t think twice about it. Maybe a part of me thought she could never land him. 

Six years later, I learn she did. 

Now it haunts me. No, it’s not that I’m angry. It’s just… from time to time I wonder – was it the three of us getting off together that night? The first time I heard her the sensation of her voice lingered like saxophonic riffs of raw pleasure in the air.

So hypnotic, I was pulled towards it. Entranced, my fingers danced in wetness. My ear pressed to the wall. I heard it all. Standing close to the speakers, the echo chamber of melodies, and hearing their bodies rise and fall brought me more in-tune with mine for the first time since I’d lost it all. 

I wonder if it was the three of us together that night, the time I heard her. I wonder how it would have been without the wall. 

Hobbies/ Mutual interests

We don’t have any hobbies 

like normal guy girl stuff

that we engage in 

together

we just like to fuck

when we come together 

but we don’t just come to cum 

We come to indulge in each other

We don’t own each other 

So the fear of falling is 

sweeter, much larger

than the fear of losing 

one another.