The first time I sucked a dick


Remember when we first heard of blow jobs and thought they were pretty disgusting? Most of us even swore to never engage in such acts but I’ll be damned, the devil is a liarr! (Insert Madea’s voice) Flash forward to today when everybody is eating each other without a care in the world and our throats have become more flexible and accomodating😂

But I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one whose perception of sex from an early age was pretty much sketchy and skewed. We were always told that sex was for reproductive purposes only. The pleasure bit we had to figure it out on our own. And even then, male pleasure was and has always been highly prioritized and normalized. God forbid if a woman talks about loving sex!

So I never thought oral sex existed. I mean, how did it even begin? If you thought blow jobs became popular recently, you are very wrong. Turns out our ancestors were pretty much into a lot of nasty and kinky stuff, even more explicit than our generation. The first clear real traces of fellatio are from ancient Egypt . The myth goes that Osiris was killed by his brother and cut into pieces. His sister Iris put the pieces together but, by chance, the penis was missing. An artificial penis was made out of clay, and Iris ‘blew’ life back into Osiris by sucking it. There are explicit images of this myth.

Archeology has further uncovered ancient artefacts and scrolls depicting early practice of oral sex in the city of Pompeii, an ancient city which was buried by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD, the Moche people of Nothern Peru and who can forget the explicit Kamasutra texts of the Indian people.

The first time a guy asked me to suck his dick I was an emotional wreck. I didn’t know how to act, what to say or how to feel. Or where to begin. Sometimes porn hypes you up but when it comes down to the real action you totally freak out. The sight of his erection got me excited yet made me so nervous. What if I accidentally bite it? What if I’m not that good? I must have stared at it for long before I heard him whisper hornily that it was all mine, and that I could do whatever I wanted to do with it.

I reached up with trembling hands and touched it. It was rock hard and rigid, yet so soft and warm. I felt something like a heartbeat in there and could feel blood rushing in fast and hard. I felt it twitch as I shyly moved my hands up and down, all the time wondering if I was doing it right and if that tempo was ok.

I kinda enjoyed watching him squirm like a worm like that, buying time because I was so terrified of using my lips. I didn’t know if he’d had a proper bath, or what he would smell like, or what if he pulls a fast one on me and cums in my mouth. But somewhere in between my confusion and thoughts, I got curious and decided to dive into the southern cuisine spread out before me.

I wrapped my lips around his little head, my eyes on him as if asking for approval and some sort of direction. I felt him moan and cuss, and it was just the encouragement I needed. That shit fills out your mouth more than you think it would. In that heat of the moment I felt like Mia Khalifa had nothing on me. I got carried away. I guess I shouldn’t have been so confident because I thought I could deep throat, but I chocked so hard I felt the taste of that morning’s breakfast on my throat. It was so horrible I thought I was gonna pass out. I pulled up for air; coughing and fighting back tears and mucus.

So you’d think I cowered and gave up, right? Well, I didn’t want to disappoint somebody’s son so I decided to give it another shot. I started at the bottom, going upwards with the tip of my tongue to his dick and tip. I made love to it; kissing, wetting, sucking and rubbing my hands all over it until he was mumbling shit I didn’t even understand. I rocked that mic! Hearing him moan as I gave him pleasure gave me so much pleasure in equal measure. Feeling him on my mouth was heavenly. The twitching and the throbbing was so intense and beautiful. And I remember feeling proud as his semen gushed out, while I enjoyed jacking him off until he became soft, squeezing out everything to the last drop.

Oh well, at least he did cum. And I didn’t bite him😁😆


Things I wanted to say but I never did


I love over-hearing people’s conversations. Not to be snoopy at all, but you know that awkward moment when strangers in front or behind your back just talk loudly, right? Personally i love over-hearing conversations. Because sometimes people seem to speak my mind. Plus those banging convos make for great blog stories, like this one I’m writing right now.

So I once over heard a guy say that it’s hard being a woman because you never know a man’s true intentions with you. And that made a lot of sense to me. A lot of things scare me. But probably falling in love scares me the most. Because I live in a timeline where people fall out of love quicker than they fall in, and fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. Nothings scares me most than the thought that I can become ugly and a stranger to someone who once thought that I was an intricate piece of art that should be worshipped. I can’t imagine that my once great sense of humour equates to lack of seriousness to someone, my emotional and sensitive side becomes immaturity, my stubbornness becomes lack of respect and failure to submit, my spontaneity becomes recklessness, my cute messages become just another distraction or my constant need for love, assurance and attention become nagging.

I’m afraid of falling in love because once I’m in, I’m all in. I fall in love blindly, stupidly. I will love everything about you. Get attached, addicted…so when shit goes south, it feels like a part of me dies: because I have to get over everything and everyone around you; your voice, your favourite food, favourite music, favourite food joint, the street you live in, your family. It’s a brutal process for me. But I’d do it again and again nonetheless. I love love, even if most of the time it doesn’t love me back. So, lover, do you have time to go through this because I was sorta maybe thinking that you could be the one.

Dear lover, how can I look you deep in the eyes and tell you all this, when I’m so shy. How do I tell you that I love my men like I like my coffee: dark, sweet and constantly inside me. How can I ever tell you that I love the moments leading up to sex better; tongue on tongue, kissing me all over and so hard I forget about my problems, our bodies pressed to each other, grinding our hips into each other, while our breath mixes and becomes sync. How can I tell you I enjoy simple intimacy; I love to lay up with you rubbing and caressing your skin lightly, your warm body against mine, you running fingers down my spine, unintentional stares, watching you exist, toes touching, stealing kisses. Occasionally our legs overlap, my cheeks press against your chest as you kiss my forehead. We could be watching a movie, talking about silly stuff or just sitting alone in silence. Our ability to laugh and be at peace while laying tangled and naked together is to die for. I could always choose these moments over anything else in the world. I could give anything to be like this forever. I can always call you home.

I love it when you hold my waist from behind, squeeze me tightly and kiss my neck. I could almost melt. I wanna learn everything about you. I wanna know your fears, what keeps you up at night, what makes you tick…I wanna be close to you; see parts of you that not everyone gets to see, learn from you, see parts of myself in you and vice versa, have a similar sense of humour, match my sass, have our own inside jokes; so close to you that at one glance I know you’re not ok, what you’re gonna say and how you feel.

Dear lover, I wanted you to know that the bedroom is the only place you get to order me around, be disrespectful and the only place where you never have to be gentle with me and treat me like a lady. In the bedroom I’m your hoe. Throw me up against a wall, a couch, the floor or the bed like I couldn’t get there fast enough. Tease me, make me beg for me, pin me down, pour your frustrations and desires into my writhing body below you, just take fucking control, literally. My body is yours for the taking. Never be gentle by no means possible. How can I tell you it hurts so good each time you invade my insides with such reckless want and desire. It’s bitter sweet. And I can’t get enough. I want you to hold my hands, press them down tightly, don’t break eye contact: Because I want to look at you dead in the eye as you make me scream and cream in pain and pleasure, I wanna watch you drown in passion, desire, lust love…I wanna watch you fuck me savagely like your life depends on it, I wanna watch you struggle not to cum early, I wanna watch you finally cum, as sweat drips off your body, and you kiss my lips, smack my ass and roll over as we giggle and stare at each other with enough passion to make the walls jealous.

I wanted to say I prefer morning sex more. I love to be the one to drain you off first thing in the morning. I love to be the one to make your day. I love the feeling of making sweet love as the sun rises, it’s rays worshipping our melanin and the silhouette of our bodies dancing on the wall.

I want you to know that I hope to grow old with me. While I fully understand that you can’t possess people, that you can only experience them, I pray I get to experience you for a pretty long time, if not forever. I want wild, passionate love; yet steady. I want commitment, assurance and honesty. I want stability and to feel safe in your arms. I want to look forward to coming home to you after a bad day. I want intimacy, maturity, care and a telepathic connection. Someone who’s gonna love me truly and genuinely, flaws and all. And I promise you will have my undying love, affection and loyalty for all of eternity, as long as I live and breath🌸💓

A woman becoming


I never felt beautiful as a little girl. And truthfully, even to this date some days are rough. This self love journey is not as easy as people make it seem to be. I’ve gone through agonizing periods of self loathing, having no friends, feeling alone, eating alone, suffering in n my pain all alone. Shout out to me though, for having a backbone. I am allowing myself to live in bliss inspite of the unresolved emotions and problems I cannot change. I hope I stop apologizing for things I have no control of; my appearance, quietness, my body, the stuff I write…I really don’t owe anyone anything.

This right here is somewhat a letter to myself and also a gentle reminder to myself that I am enough; always have been and always will. I’m not a girl, not yet a woman either. I’m a woman becoming. A love letter to me; the girl that always treasures and finds profound peace in the smallest of actions: long baths, slathering my body with oil, wearing lingerie, cooking, laying in clean sheets, cleaning, taking a nap, writing, making art, curled up in a sofa hot tea in my hand and good music orgasming my ears, reading magazines, crying over sad love story movies, loving…living. To the girl that’s one of a kind, with a whole different set of mind;the one’s that is selfish with her time and her body. I can do anything I want. I am adequate. I feel bad right now about a couple of things but they are only temporary. I can feel bad and sorry for yourself. I just hope I don’t stay there.

But I feel like I  need plastic surgery to wipe whatever’s about my face that seems to attract people who don’t appreciate and love me as much as I do. I need to stop wasting my time with people who are not that into me. I need to stop editing my personality, my thoughts, my laugh and words just to fit in people’s lives. I need to stop putting myself down, blaming myself for every short coming and selling myself short. I need to learn how to rest, to stop worrying so much and just simply let go. I’m one of those “intimidating” looking girls; the ones that always seem bossy, rude, snobs and total bitches, the ones that guys think thrice before approaching, and some never even get the balls to approach, the ones that are greatly misunderstood and judged a lot. I know a lot has changed about me but trust me I’m still the same girl.

I am reclaiming my body, owning it; every muscle, fibre, nerve, skin and skeleton. It’s very far from perfect. But it’s a vessel of life and it’s doing a pretty bang up job of holding all my organs together. And that is enough. I love how light bounces off it, how water washes over it. I love how it helps me express myself through smiles, voice, touch, movement, tears.. I love the sexual feminine energy, the curves, the heat between my thighs and the ever wetness that reminds me everytime that I am healthy and a woman. I love light featherly kisses over it. I love to be made love to.

My writing has always been my favourite form of expression and appreciation. I’m 100%  an introvert. I love my space. I’m always the ‘virgin’ friend of many “hoe” girls I meet. I cheer people on to go out there and have fun, make memories and fuck whoever they want, as long as they use protection.

I’m all ways a woman. My worth is not determined by how I dress, by my weight, how I talk, how I sit, who I fuck. My worth is not determined by whether or not I’ve had a dick inside me yet, or how often I get it.

And I make an effort to love myself a little more than I did yesterday. I know who I am. I know what I stand for. I know my standards, my strengths and weaknesses. I know what makes me happy, I know what turns me on and I definitely know what I want. So I couldn’t care less if you thought of me in a bad light. Your perception of me is none of my business. I can always tell how intelligent a person is by how stupid they think I am.

My name is Nzilani and I love the woman I’m becoming🤗🌸

27 things you didn’t know about me


I enjoyed birthdays more when I was a little girl. That special day once a year meant dressing up in new clads, gifts, a beautiful cake and people would gather around to sing for me. My mom always went out. She never missed any birthday of mine, despite the fact that she was busy with college. She treated me like a princess and I got whatever I wanted, always.

A lot of things have changed since then. I’ve grown older (maybe not wiser), I have made plenty of mistakes and I have put on a LOT of weight. I’m actually convinced that I’m experiencing adolescence late. My body is really rioting and emotions rebelling. I used to be that girl that ate a lot but never gained any weight. Right now if I think about food, I gain weight😭 it’s something that is really buffling me, yet so exciting. It’s almost like I’m evolving, and I can’t wait to meet the woman that’s gonna emerge from all this chaos.

As I turn 27 today, here are 27 facts you probably don’t know about me:

1. First of all, I’m Kenyan. My surname really confuses a lot of people. Even spelling it is an extreme sport for some. It’s not Tsilani, Zilane, Njiani…my sexy name is Nzilani🤗

2. I am Kamba. Fully I think. I really don’t know much about my identity but I was born in Machakos, no father figure around. So I used my grand father’s name until later on when I got baptized in the Catholic Church and adopted Abigael Michelle Nzilani. So yeah, I don’t know my biological dad but my mum later on married an amazing man I’m blessed to call father.

3. My name Nzilani literally means I was born by the roadside. My mom was being taken to the hospital but I popped out on the way there. It was originally supposed to be “Wa Nzia” but mom changed it to “Nzilani”. “Nzia” is Kamba word for road.

4. For about 5 years of my life I used the names Nzilani Mule. That is until I had to get baptized and adopt “Christian” names. It was such a hussle coming up with decent names, because the Catholic priest demanded names that are in the Bible. So we came up with Abigael, Nabal’s wife who later became King David’s wife. Michelle was originally supposed to ‘Michal’ , King Saul’s daughter. I knew I would get teased a lot because it sounded like a masculine name. So I opted for Michelle. afterwards.

5. I developed ezcema when I was barely 3 months old, which led to a series of infections and allergies that still affect me to this day. I’m super sensitive to a lot of foods and products, but I manage it quite well.

6. I was an only child for the longest time. My mum really pampered me a lot. I can barely function without her. The age gap between me and her second child is a whopping 20 years. Though now we have a mixed family, so in between there’s a step brother and an adopted sister.

7. I’m a first born child.

8. I’m a late bloomer. In every aspect. I spent my teenage years battling self esteem, worrying about my looks, the scars and wounds on my body, why boys didn’t like me etc. Little did I know all these things would happen later on in my life. Now it’s raining men and my body is apparently ‘breaking necks’.

9. It may not look like it, but my first kiss was when I was about 20 years. I broke my virginity at 22 years.

10. I may look okay but in my mind I keep undressing people. I know it seems weird but I can’t help it. I always wonder how someone looks naked, no matter who you are. My mind has a mind of its own.

11. I’m obsessed with thick women. I love a big ass, big boobs and thunder thighs. Don’t get me wrong, I’m straight. I just hold the believe that thick women are the most beautiful women alive. Any woman I come across on social media that has mad curves, I must follow.

12. I was very athletic and active in primary school. I was a bit of a tom boy and loved playing football. I have a medal for 1st place in a 100metres race.

13. I got my first tattoo at 21. It was just a must. I’d made up my mind long time a go. I guess I have always been into tattoo and peircing needles. Me and an ex friend had matching tattoos, badly drawn by the way. My mom got so mad at me and we didn’t talk for like 6 months. She still holds the believe that tattoos are evil and all that garbage that church people believe. I have since covered up that shit and have 3 more, and about 12 piercings (and counting).

14. I’m anti social. In every sense of that word. I’m the perfect definition of an introvert. People scare me and I can’t stand interactions for long. For someone with a Bsc in Communication and Journalism, it sure is an irony. Talking and mingling is such a chore for me.

15. I always have a pair of ear phones with me wherever I go. The anti social starter pack😅. My parents always complain that I will ‘blow my ear drums but I never listen. Music is an escape for me. Escape from people, stress and from my own self sometimes. I don’t even care about the language. As long as it has a dope beat, I will listen.

16. I’m such a baby. I don’t think I’m mature, at least not emotionally. I’m always all over the place. Its either I’m too happy, or too sad. I cry about everything. From movies to being scolded, remembering shit that happened a long time ago. I can literally sit down and think myself into a bad mood. Basically, when I’m in your life, handle me with care. I bruise easily.

17. I’m such a hoarder. I really have a problem with letting shit go. I like keeping things and going back later on to look at them. My space is always full of old magazines, shop receipts, fancy shopping bags, clothes and shoes that don’t fit anymore, old love letters, food wrappers, notes and books right from primary school etc.

18. I really struggle with friendships. From making friends to maintaining them. Feels like a full time job fore so o opt to stay alone.

19. I get bored with people easily. I always wonder how I will survive in a marriage. I could love you today then wake up the next morning, look at you and call it quits.

20. I’m such a tease. I’d text you some pretty naughty stuff, make you think I’m into you but when I get bored you gotta go. Thank God for blocking apps😊

21. I get attached to people easily and fall for the little things that seem stupid. I’m such a hopeless romantic. Always hoping, putting all my eggs on one basket, trusting and building castles in the air. But no matter how many times I get disappointed, I’ll always believe in love.

22. I cannot sing or dance to save my life. I have two left feet and have no flexible bone in my body. My voice could kill someone.

23. I’m one of those people who like cleaning. I can’t stand a dirty space. Cleaning is like therapy for me. I love seeing everything neat and knowing that it’s neat because of me.

24. I take pictures of anything and everything. My gallery is full of pictures I have no valid explanation for.

25. I don’t like being told what to do, unless I’m naked, and even that is a little bit iffy.

26. Me and alcohol respect each other. Period!

27. I’ve always wanted to be an author. Even for just one book.

I’ve been kicking it for 27 years in this fucked up world and I hope I stick around for a bit longer. I have so much to do, so many stories to write, so many places to explore, so many foods to indulge in and so many people to experience. All I pray for is good health and a good life. I didn’t ask to be here so the least God can do for me is make it easier for me🤗

Daughter of a difficult woman


Anyone who knows me knows that I love my mother. I’m always talking about her. I love her, and she loves as well, maybe a little too much. It’s just that between all that love there is and always has been near suffocating tension, pressure and over protection.

And anyone who knows my mother knows that she’s loud, out spoken, bold and a staunch Christian. Complete opposite of me. She can be harsh and difficult, very hard- headed. It’s hard to convince her otherwise when she knows she’s right. My cousins know this all too well. She’s dramatic, in every aspect of the word. The ultimate drama queen. My grandfather calls her “kichwa mbaya”. Her laugh can be heard from miles away. She talks a lot. The only time she’s quiet is when she’s praying. This woman is bad news when you cross her the wrong way. She will put her Christianity aside and deal with you accordingly.

She has this aura about her that calms people. She is a natural healer. She is lovable, that kind of person you meet and instantly click with. She is blunt. If you look awful, she will tell you you look awful. She can fit anywhere, hangout with anyone. I look exactly like her; from hair texture, the shape of our fingers and toes and the way my right foot bends slightly as I walk. We even have the same allergies, and the same annoying loud laugh. It’s always hard during introductions to strangers, because they swear we are sisters, not mother and daughter. I love her to death. I would do anything for her.

She babied me a lot, and still does, something she openly agrees with. She’s always worrying about me. I’m a grown woman but to her I’m still a baby. She once told me she can’t picture me getting married and going on to live my life my own life, and I swear she said she was gonna kidnap me on my wedding day😂😂

She had me at 19 and never passes by a chance to remind me I was a mistake. She sees herself in me, therefore in some twisted way thinks that I’m gonna follow in her footsteps.

She feels like she made a lot of mistakes growing up , and it is her wish for me to learn from them. Totally understandable but I just need to be trusted.

My mother has always been overly protective and openly critical of me. Everything I wear, every where I go has to be approved. She doesn’t know any boundaries when it comes to me.

Her advice sometimes comes off as criticism, and threats. It’s more about instilling fear. It almost feels like she doesn’t know me at all. If only she’d set her judgement and fears aside, she’d realize the kind of person I am and learn to trust me enough to make sound decisions and choices. She has the final say, no matter what decision I make. She wants to know where I am, with who and why. She doesn’t want me far from her , ever. All my life I’ve spent living up to her expectations, listening to her, doing exactly as she said, struggling to please her and make her happy that I ended up afraid of standing up for myself, expressing my feelings and being aggressive for the things I wanted for myself.

I feel like she thinks dad favours me a lot. The truth is sometimes I find myself gravitating towards him for the much needed understanding, encouragement, acceptance and love. I can always rely on him for anything. He doesn’t ask questions, he just does. I always brag that he’s the only man who will never break my heart. With Mom I have to think twice, think of proper words to use lest she starts yelling at me and being judgemental.

I wish she listened to me more. Understood me. Took time to talk to me first as a mother and a woman, before offering unsolicited advice. I understand deeply that she has enough experience, and wisdom to guide me in life, but I also need a friend first. I understand that she only wants the best for me. I know no mother wants to see her child hurting, broken and betrayed. But she needs to realize that she had her life, and I have mine now. That these are two different timelines, and different people. She needs to realize that I also need space and chance to make my own mistakes too. I need time to curve my own path, heal myself and maybe get closer to God one day, just not right now. I just need her blessings and approval.

She stubborn as hell, difficult, a little too loud but I love her the way she is. She gave me life. She made a lot of sacrifices for me, and still does. She is the only one who will love me unconditionally. Her love and loyalty is unquestionable, undeniable and unending. We disagree a lot, sometimes go for days and weeks without talking to each other. But there’s nothing hot gossip can’t fix😂😂. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this beautiful African queen.

(Somebody tell her this for me because if I do it’s gonna lead to a whole family gathering to discuss my change in behaviour and attitude. Might even say I tried to kill her😐)

Of casual sex and emotional condoms


I don’t know about you but that FWB set up cannot work for me. I’m highly emotional and sensitive. If a stranger offers a helping hand or pays me a compliment it gets stuck in my head. I’m still gonna smile when I think about it a year later. So how the hell am I not supposed to catch feelings if we’re gonna be fucking on the regular?? Is there like a way you switch off your emotions or how does it work?? If the sex is bomb I’m gonna catch feelings obviously. There’s no way you’re gonna shift my womb, play guitar on my lungs with your dick and poke my heart cage and I won’t feel something for you. No way.

I am so full of feelings it’s annoying. I get attached and start jumping to conclusions before I can even get to really know the guy. If I like you I will trip really hard. I’m gonna be thinking about you 24/7, blushing like a teenager experiencing her first crush, get all in my head and start creating cute scenarios between you and I. I’m gonna create our wedding, honeymoon, how many kids we’re gonna have and their names, our home… everything!! It really sucks but it’s just who I am. I can’t ran away from it.

So me and somebody’s son once got into it. In my head and in my own perfect world of imagination, I knew relationships usually start with courting, developing a friendship then sex, then commitment. Or commitment then sex, different strokes for different folks. That’s a bit more realistic. I figured a man should always make his intentions clear with you from the word go, so before you get intimate sexually at least you know he’s not leaving, that’s it’s the start of a serious relationship. That’s what I believed, and still believe anyway. But then he came along and everything got tossed in the air: logic, beliefs, values, clothes, legs…

And we had sex a lot. Like the world was ending. The kind that makes your insides hurt and make you question whether your body is still the temple of the holy spirit. The kind that’s degrading, wild, spontaneous and just amazing. That hardcore shit you see on pornhub and blush yet question the possibility of walking straight after. It was magical. And beautiful. Shit felt a demonic possession. I cried sometimes, not sure because of pleasure or pain. Either way I felt something. I felt like a woman. I felt wanted, needed, desired, and I felt sexy.

But men have this way of looking at you when horny that makes you think you’re the only woman left on Earth. The kind of look you mistake for love, always. He will make you think that he will crawl past Rihanna and Nicki Minaj just to get to you. But later on you realise that it was just the heat of the moment. That whatever a man says during coitus should remain there and then, because its most probably horny thoughts coming from the small head.

In my defence, I was naive and new to this world of sin. He was the second guy I got intimate with. I thought we’d start a relationship that would hopefully lead to marriage . I wanted badly that ride or die type of union. I’m so stupid. Each day I kept on hoping, thinking that time would eventually lead him closer to me, to finally confess his undying love for me. I never thought of it as a friends-with-benefits situation. In my head we were in a relationship since we were doing everything people in relationships do. I don’t know why I was expecting love from a guy who clearly told me he wanted to fuck me on the first day we met, someone who looked me dead in the eye and told me to never fall for him. This after I’d hopelessly fallen for him. I swear I heard my heart break that day.

The problem is most of us women have this wild imagination that we can change a man. We keep seeing ourselves as the better option, the one that’s finally gonna tame him. But I have since learnt that a man only changes his ways when he wants to. No amount of sex, food, money or pampering can change his mind. And certainly not a damn baby. Until then he will always have an emotional condom on.

Until a man has clearly asked you to be his, keep your legs and heart closed. If he says he’s not ready for a commitment, believe him. Respect yourself to walk away from that kind of situation. You don’t deserve such humiliation, begging for love crumbles from someone who doesn’t care about you. And if you can have sex with someone and not get attached, congratulations, you’re such a hoe, and I’m proud of you😆👏👏

As for me, my emotions cannot be contained. That condom is gonna burst. I love hard. I don’t know grey. Its either I’m all in or out. And I am sensitive, soft and hopelessly romantic. My personality may not appeal to some, but I know someone is gonna come along and love every part of me, even the parts I struggle to love. Until then, I stay full of love and emotions, ready to bless somebody’s son with all this loyalty and nastiness in my head🤗😋

Guys we fuck

You know what? Thanos was right. Reality is often disappointing. You hear about love stories, read about them and even watch them on Tv, but your own love stories don’t always have a happy ending.

I remember clearly when I woke everyday so I could sleep next to him every night. I was all in. I had never lit a fire that strong. Our bodies were in sync. I got seduced by the devil and I stuck to him like a leech, drawing all of him in. I danced to his enchanting tunes and followed him every where like a loyal puppy. It was wrong but it felt so damn good. I figured I’d rather get it wrong, than miss out on something magical and spell bounding. I knew damn well that kind of romance would end in a dangerous inferno and spite, but I chose to swim along.

I’ve never been one to do the right thing at the right time, and place. I’m stupidly stubborn. If I set my eyes and heart on something, I must have it, by all means, even if it’s wrong. More often than not I listen to my head, not my heart. My deepest desires and fantasies often take advantage and lead me down a dangerous path of bad decision making and utter fuckery. From the word go, the timing was wrong. I had dreams. I had goals. I had people I called friends. But heart beats powered by lust were too strong and demanding. Stupidly, I gave up on everyone and everything I held so dear to me. I pushed it all aside for him. Put him as my number one priority. Almost worshipped him.

I thought my innocent voice could soothe him, my smile would put him on a trance, my curves would capture his heart, my cooking could cuff him and my pussy delight him enough to commit. But the more we devoured each other, the more I was left confused. I kept hoping and waiting to hear the three magical words, “I love you”. So I wondered. I wondered if I was doing enough, if I was doing the right things: touching him right, fucking him right, cooking his meals right…I was such a mess. One day we really talk and connect well, the next day he’s picking up Petty and small fights then ignoring me, making up and going for days without talking accompanied by really flimsy excuses. When it was good, it was really good. And when it was bad, it was really bad.

Sometimes I was happy and glowing like the sun only shone in my direction. Other times I was depressed, crying all day and night, locking myself in so people don’t see my swollen eyes. The most difficult and humiliating times were those my voice didn’t matter. My ‘No’ could not be taken seriously. Almost like I had no say when it came to my body. So I’d just lay there as still as a log, crying and praying he gets it over with. I never felt so dirty. I’d spent hours in the bathroom washing off his disrespect and drunk breathe, and I couldn’t tell which was more painful; the fact like I’d allow that to happen to me for so long or the pain I felt when peeing because of vulva tears. One was physical, the other was psychological. But both hurt as hell. And I had no one to talk to. I just somehow sobered up through it all, alone.

Then sometimes he’d look at me like I was the center of his universe , eyes full of lust and I’d mistake it for love, always.

Guys we fuck go from giving us butterflies to throwing around herpes, high blood pressure and ulcers like confetti. They come into our lives, learn everything about us and later use that against us when they get tired. They are emotionally and physically abusive. They feel entitled to our bodies and will go ahead to have their way with us even if we say no. They lie, they cheat and they manipulate everything to suit their needs. Lord, your sons are insecure and cant handle rejection. He gets attracted to your freedom and wildness but when he has you he wants to cage you, and ‘tame’ like you’re some kind of wild animal. The man you share a bed and life with sometimes becomes your worst enemy. One day he’s singing songs of praise and love, the next he’s picking up a knife to send you back to your maker.

That super high you get from mad, passionate lust is only good enough when you’re young and clueless. As you get older, a lot of things: your mindset, your priorities and your goals. You crave real affection. Real love. The kind that feels safe and just right. You don’t want to fall madly in love any more. You wanna be safe and sane in love. When it’s real, you will know. When it’s not, you will be confused.