She had everything. I was drawn to her like a moth to the light. She was mythical and beautiful like the 8 wonders of the world. She was alluring and ungraspable like water. She flowed straight into my structure of being. She mesmerized me and left me thinking of what could be. She hijacked my rational faculties and left my body in comatose – paralyzed and enslaved by her voice, it wasn’t that it was angelic but rather that it had a certain quality that bypassed my conscious mind. She spoke in a tone that was poised and almost tired, it was low pitched and effortless, almost resigned with a hint of would you like a Fellatio? Her eyes were suggestive and inquisitive. It was as if they wanted to know your dirtiest fantasies and part-take in them, as the leading lady – they demanded that credit, demanded to be the star, demanded to control and possess your body like a demon. Her posture, how she stood was a wet dream. She was phallic, completely erected on the ground like the Eiffel tower. A sight to see, there was no one quite like; her she commanded attention! Her walk was the stuff of legends. It was peculiar and affirmed in a way that made her a star on the runway. She was the brightest star in a universe filled with hydrogen and helium – explosive and her body was the bomb! She had the best boobs in the world – not that I have seen them but I have thought and fantasied about them. Not quite your watermelons but matured coconuts in the Savannah. Firm coconuts. Coconuts that can fit in your hands. Coconuts that can make all your dreams come true. The type of coconuts that had my mind spinning out of control – she was dangerous and she came with a label like tobacco. Addictive, I couldn’t help thinking about her and all her features. I was whipped a slave, confined within the looped structure of my brain. She was a sex symbol that I wanted to possess, every inch of her body I wanted my lips to touch, every organism would elect me in the realm of the gods – gratifying her sexual desires would be my purpose in life. She was a goddess, a work of mastery like Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa”, cavorted and renowned like the soccer World Cup and as such only cunnilingus will do anointed and knighted by the serpent in the bible. She was dangerous. Purposely stringing me along to hang myself. The more I chased, the more I lost control. The more I attached myself, the more she detached herself – a strategic, calculated ploy on her side. She was cold, whenever I told myself I was done, she would open her legs from a far provoking themes and images of heaven; it never occurred to me that it was just illusions. She was my escape, my ultimate fantasy. She represented a total release. She transported me to a realm of pure bliss and pleasure. She was a siren – striking and loud! An entity you cannot ignore but also subtle and indirect in a way that she made me fill in the blanks. Sure, I was repressed but she was better. She is an intelligent human being. She is my African Cleopatra, my Marilyn Monroe, she resembles Lucifer and acquainted me with the beautiful feeling of suffering, she taught me about love and projections – she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love her; My Marilyn Monroe.
I love my husband. He is everything I want and need. He brings so much meaning to my life. We have two wonderful children that I adore. They are my life. By normal standards, I have everything money, safety, security, two perfect children and a loving husband. I should be happy and fulfilled. I have a great career doing something that stimulates my mind, something that I love. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. As of late, my energy is low and I have a problem motivating myself. My life has become bland and insipid. Everything in my life is ritualistic and passive. As a young girl, I thought marriage would give me a happily ever after. Not that I don’t love my husband because I do, he is so perfect and he treats me so well. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him. Still, the question remains. Is this it? Is this my life now? Everything has become chore. The spontaneous life has receded to the past. We don’t have sex that often and when we do I fake orgasms. I wonder if he notices. I doubt it, I’ve been faking for so long that it has become impossible to detect. I have become an expert liar, the moaning’s are now automatic. Not that it’s a bad thing, I have to do it, it reassures him of a good job. To be fair, he sometimes does a great job but it’s in the minority. I remember a time when we used to have sex every day. A time when he drove me crazy. A time when he used to make me come multiple times in a session. A time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. A time when pleasing him was top of the agenda. A time of imagination, oral examinations and forbidden sex positions. A time of clarity and excitement. When everything made sense. When my life was easy to love and loving myself was easier.
I understand that we have been married for 10 years now and the romantic phase has to die down. That we need to be responsible and competent adults. But it’s not about the sex. It’s not even about my relationship. On the contrary, my relationship with my husband is perfect. We have an understanding and we are both happy with one another. It’s something else. A void. I feel like I am living a lie. I feel like a robot, passively getting work done. At times I am emotionless. I don’t get pleasure out of life anymore. I feel overwhelmed by life. I am confused and it makes me sad. What do you give a woman who has everything? Am I ungrateful? No. However I am close to apathy. My low levels of energy are making it hard for me to participate in life. It’s like my body is in comatose, completely paralyzed by the sadness in my soul. Maybe I am depressed. Maybe depression is a real condition. It wasn’t something I took seriously but how do I explain the apathy I feel? Do I even want to participate in this mindless, passive, repetitive mode we call life? Unfortunately, I have to. For my husband, my children, my family so we can navigate the world successfully. So I will just have to power through and be supermom, do it with great zeal and enthusiasm, with a smile, no one can know how I feel. I imagine it would be hard for my husband and I don’t want to trouble him. I don’t want him to think that his not doing enough because he is. I don’t want him to blame himself for my lack of happiness. Besides, depression is not a real condition. We all have bad days. Maybe, it’s a phase, I’ve just recently turned 30 and the second phase of my life is in commencement. Perhaps, I am in mourning for younger self. I don’t know. I just feel empty and dead inside. Despite the passing time and the orbiting of the planet my life is fixed and stagnant at one point.
I met Steven at his suite for an interview for the newspaper. We used to date when we were in High School, 16 and in love nothing could come between us. He was my first love, the person who made me conscious of this abstract thing call love. He is now a respected member of the socialist party. He is powerful. I can’t wait to meet with him. The newspaper sent me over to cover the story of his alleged infidelity, the story is making rounds in the country and we want to cover his side. It was hard getting him to commit to the story, we had to promise heaven. The chance to put things straight was too good for him to pass up on, we had to appeal to his ego and narcissistic side. The rumours were rouge and good PR was needed to spin the story, at least that’s what his advisors would have advised him. 14:00 struck and I went to his suite to meet up with him. He had grown up and had traces of someone I used to know. Was he the dashing young boy I fell in love with? Of course he was a man now and his attributes screamed that. He was well defined, groomed, trimmed and slim. He looked so good in a suit. He didn’t look at all like the boy who used to fondle with my breasts. We exchanged pleasantries and sat down. We engaged in small talk and were nostalgic about the past before we could get down to business. Our meeting was upbeat and energetic. I felt like I was in the moment. It was as if the world were moving again. We came around to the infidelity and he responded that the news were all false. He told me that it was just a political campaign meant to tarnish his name with the elections around the corner. He knew the alleged woman but not enough to be a lover or even a friend. They just met at two separate public functions and enjoyed each other’s company. He explained that he had no contact with her whatsoever. With that omission, the interview was over and we decided to talk off the record as friends. He asked me if I was happy. Reluctant, I replied yes. I could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t content with my response but he didn’t want to impose himself. He told me that he was not happy. That the pressures of life are getting to him. His work and the need to be exemplary is exhausting. The political games. His life splashed on the newspapers and prime time bulletins like it was entertainment and the constant pressure from his wife who seems to like the benefits that come from being the wife of a highly esteemed and powerful man. To be fair, who wouldn’t? The money, the designer clothes, the parties, the fame, the respect. Who would want to give that away? And for what? Because you’re depressed? That is not a real condition. People are dying in Africa. He told me that he feels trapped in his life that he feels like a slave. That he has lost his passion and most of the time he is just on auto-pilot. There was a silence on the table for a while and then he continued. He said that he recognizes that same sadness in my eyes to which I didn’t respond. I told him that it was a great meeting and that we should meet up again. He agreed. I stood up and he showed me to the door. Just when I was about to go out, I had the sudden urge to kiss him. I kissed him and he seemed to go with it. He passionately pushed my body towards him and held me tightly as he closed the door. We continued kissing and it was so hot and steamy. It was intense and I was so horny. I displaced my lips on his and kissed him on the neck while I took his shirt off. I continued with the kissing process and made my way to the torso. I kneeled down and took off his pants and started giving his oral pleasure. He held my head and controlled the motion of the strokes. The movements started of slow and gradual and then sped up with intensity. He was groaning and I could tell that he was about to climax and I let him come in my mouth – it was intoxicating!
Steven makes me feel like I can fly. He makes me feel like I am free. I have found a new lease of life. Yesterday was exciting. The thrill, the adrenaline rush of being caught out. The irony of the interview we set up. He understands me and how I am feeling. I wonder if he talks to his wife about his concerns and his feelings. I can’t believe I gave him a blow job. On the first day? It was like I was possessed by a love demon who took a hold of my body. When he caressed my breasts something in my head exploded and I was no longer in control. I was listening to a song by Amy Winehouse called Love Is Blind and it dominates how I feel because I relate. In the song Amy is unapologetic about his infidelity. She is ironic and condescending. Her arrogance is admirable. Her justifications are laughable. She’s not really explaining herself to anyone. She is at peace with all the repercussions. On the famous song she states “You are my everything, he means nothing to me. I was thinking about you when I came.” I love the song but don’t agree with the tone of the song. I care for the repercussions. I love my husband, I love my children and I don’t want to lose our family. However, I was thinking about my husband when Steven came in my mouth. The experience helped and I came home later that day rejuvenated. My husband and I made love and I moaned with pure pleasure. He sent me to the moon. Maybe my interaction with him is good for my marriage. I want to see where this will end. He called me today and we agreed to see each other next week at a different hotel. I feel good about it.
We met at the designated hotel. He was so cold and distant. What had sparked his indifferent mood today? Was the world out for his head again? The hypocrisy of hotel rooms. On my way to the room I was in incognito, I had my shades and scarf on despite the fact that it was 36 degrees. Surely, that constitutes as suspicious behaviour. I didn’t think things through, I was too locked up in my own world that I failed to look at things on an objective criteria. The woman in the elevator besides me at 13:00 pm is surely like me. Why conceal myself? Why hide what I came to do in room 424 of this hotel room when everybody knows. The staff surely know, the concierge, the receptionist, I am just another number. We all have the same problems but act like ours is different. While in the room with Steven I think about how amateurish I must have been and vow to do better next time. It didn’t take long for me and Steven to get intimate. He had an aggressive demeanour this time and he went on the offense. He pressed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. He started with my neck and then proceeded to the lips while he took off my shirt and bra. Now half naked, I took off my skirt while he also undressed. He carried me to the bed and started kissing and sucking my breasts. It was slow gradual kissing until he made it to my torso. At this time I was overcome with pleasure and I wanted him to go down on me. He took off my panties and turned me around. I was on all fours. I had the stature of a dog, a bitch. In that position, he penetrated me from behind not in my vagina but anus. It was painful and yet pleasurable. It was like walking on hot coal, it burns the flesh but the adrenalin rush is at its peak and telling you to go on. The moans and groans where real emanating from a real place – pain but I didn’t want him to stop. And so he kept pounding and pounding. To keep myself from screaming I put a pillow on my face and then it was done. He signalled that he was coming and I let him come on my breasts. Afterwards, we just laid on the bed for a while. We didn’t engage in a dialogue, the room was quiet. He got up from the bed and started putting on his clothes back. He then made a contribution on how to remove the odour. The advice was that I take a shower first thing when I got home. He also talked about the stains that will undoubtedly make their appearance on my underwear. He seemed like a professional. Did he do this on a regular basis? Am I one of his targets, his victims? I was thoughtful. What happened here wasn’t love. He humiliated me. He objectified me. He violated me and left me with no dignity. I was his slave and he did what he wanted with me. In my mind, I told myself that I wasn’t going to see him again. That it was over. Until, he said “this was fun. We should do this again.” I replied, “yes it was fun and most definitely we should.” I wasn’t lying, I would like to see him again and yes it was fun. It was my first anal experience and of course it was difficult but it was new and fresh. In that moment, I was alive and engaged in the process. Pain notified me that I was present and it felt good. It will be even better next time.
I am in a better mood these days. I wonder if my husband and children have noticed. I wonder if I am exhibiting strange behaviour. I feel like I am on top of the world. I feel in control. I see more colour in my life. Not that I am condoning my adultery but my sex life with my husband is better. Our love-making sessions are reunions that are breath-taking. They are unbelievable. I don’t have to fake orgasms because they are real now. I now have an appetite for sex and so it’s frequent. Before we would have sex twice in a month if we were lucky. Nowadays twice is the minimum requirement for the week. I am sure my husband is suspicious but he doesn’t say anything so it’s fine. Orgasms are a beautiful thing. It’s like an explosive in your body. An explosion of pleasure. Those few seconds are the most meaningful of life. Orgasms bring dimensions and edge to life. Orgasms give meaning to life. I sometimes think of Steven when I have an orgasm with my husband. It’s that Amy Winehouse curse, I am also starting to be unapologetic about my infidelity. It makes the lives of the people all around me better and most importantly I am happy. It has been a month since I have met up with Steven. I know I have to end things with him, he has become an addiction. What we have can’t be right for the immediate people in our lives. What we have is destined to fail. The problem is that I think I love him. I can’t stop thinking about him. He is all I think about. I am conflicted, torn in between. I have this fantasy that I want to explore with him. I plan to tie him up on the bed, get naked and sit on his face until he gives me multiple orgasms. I want to make him my bitch. I want to make him submit. I want to dominate him. My efforts thus far have been insufficient and my plan is in vain. I am meeting him on Thursday at his office and I don’t think that will be possible. This will be the last time I see him, he doesn’t know but I do. I love my family and I can’t carry on risking the life I worked so hard to build.
He told me to get dressed and that his secretary would be here soon. He was pensive and moved with great urgency. I lay naked on the couch and didn’t take him too seriously. What makes our affair great is the danger, the sense that it is forbidden and could damage a lot of lives. That is the pulse that kept everything moving. The chance to live life dangerously. It was seductive. It had a lure that both of us couldn’t resist. The fact that I am laying on his couch naked with his secretary on the way to the office, doesn’t move me, it doesn’t scare me. I am accustomed to the danger. Besides there are locks for unrequired entry and these locks seem to work just properly. We just had another session of mind blowing animal sex. We had a time constraint this time so we had to be efficient. Because I was adamant that this would be my last time doing this, I had to lead procedures. On the last run, I wanted to be ravished and pleasured to the maximum. I got in his office and sat on the chair. We engaged in pointless dialogue until his secretary went out. He stood up and went to the door to lock it. By the time he locked the door, I was already half-naked. My top was off indicating, “Let’s go!” He rushed to me and pressed his body onto mine and started kissing me. He kissed my lips, neck and made it to my breasts to which he caressed and fondled with them. He started kissing and sucking on my nipples, flicking them in a move that drove me absolutely wild. Sensing I would lose control. I interrupted him and created space in between us. I took off my skirt and panties and opened my legs. An invitation he took with both hands. He went down on me. It was the best cunnilingus I have ever had. With the tip of his tongue he stimulated my clitoris. Like a painter, the great Leonardo Da Vinci he moved his tongue left, right, and left, right in a gradual and clockwise manner and then it was rigorous and fast paced it left my mind in tatters. It was pulsating. He was concise, so engaged and he made me come. His tongue was like the tongue of the serpent. I was paralyzed by the pleasure. I indicated that I want him to come into me. While I masturbated, he took off his pants and underwear and in missionary position he started penetrating me. Sensing that he would come soon, I switched positions and went on all fours. He continued with the penetrating while I was groaning and moaning without a care in the world. At that moment I was free and liberated. I resided in the stars. I resided in forever. I was on the moon and it was pure pleasure. He signalled that he wanted to come. So I told him to wait for a bit. I adjusted myself and kneed down to give him a blow job. He moaned and groaned with his hands on my head controlling the motion. He told me he couldn’t hold it anymore and that his coming. I didn’t want him to come in my mouth so I stopped the activity. He came on my face. It was beautiful. It signalled the climax of our union. Of course he didn’t know that. It never occurred to him that it would be the last time seeing me naked.
I met her early this year when I was doing my hero things. Hero things is a code name for hustling. I wanted a bit of capital to start a project that I was ruminating about for sometime. The Universe responded by bringing this cool Russian guy in my life. He was upbeat and enthusiastic. He had a good energy, he was positive, optimistic. And so we talked, he had 3 shops in the Sandton mall and needed someone to push product for him. The profit margins were good and so I accepted. I figured a couple of weeks pushing product wouldn’t hurt. On his payroll, he had this hot girl who made time slow down. Naturally, I inquired about her from one of the managers in the shop. Just to go back in the story, this manager guy was a cool guy and in one of our conversations I remember telling him about my love for everything German. So when I asked about that girl, he was generous with the information. He said “Her name is Shira, she has been working with us for a while now. She is a senior here and one of our top performers. She easily makes 100K in a month. She was born in Germany and stayed there until her teens and then she moved up in Isreal.” I responded “Wow! Great, then maybe she can teach me German!” I saw a real opportunity with her. It would be difficult but not impossible. With a few co-ordinated moves I would draw in her attention. She was beautiful, dark brown eyes, full eyebrows and her hair was black and long. She was a mixture of more than two tribes. She was different. Not quite Caucasian, her skin color was in the minority like Spanish-latino. She was exotic. Man, I had never seen beauty like hers. Her accent was nothing I’ve ever heard before. Her height was average, not too tall and not too short. Make-up made her the best looking woman in the world. I was impressed. She was indifferent towards me, I remember when I was playing some Kanye West in the shop, in the morning while I was checking inventory, I was playing for me, the volume was low-pitched and she came in and told me to not play gangster music in the shop. I was perplexed. I mean “Late Registration” Kanye, gangster music? I chuckled because I had some Dr. Dre and Jay- Z on my phone. If she wanted gangster music, I could show her. But I listened to her plead and changed to Amy Winehouse. When I got home, I thought about that interaction. And yea, Kanye West “Late Registration” would sound like gangster music for a German-Israeli woman, especially considering the host who’s playing the music, I was too edgy and with spikes all over and she knew that I came from Alex, Gomora. Still, she didn’t project a lot of things. Unlike some other fool I was working with who was condescending, he was like “You are not what I expected” and I responded lightly and with curiosity: “Why, because I know words?” He laughed nervously and the realization came to his mind that I had put him in his place. Sometimes you need your ego to put fools in their place. Soon enough word got out that I had put the mighty Chase in his place. This was a big deal because he was one of the managers in the shops. He was feared and used a lot of intimidation techniques. I think it was an “Alpha” thing for him, he loved ruling with an iron fist. This made him feel strong and respected. He would take digs at your confidence and later assassinate your character. I knew his type the first day I cast eyes on him. He wouldn’t do such to me, his not my boss, in fact no one is. I am here because my skills benefit the company. No insecure man is going to project his feelings of insecurity on me. After the interaction, I was a magnat for the female employees. It was like I had slayed the big bad wolf. I was the hero! They loved being around me. I made them feel safe. It was an attraction thing, the sexual tension was high, it was hot, it was intoxicating, there was life in the place and that’s how I reeled Shira in.
One day I was busy with in inventory and I was playing Ludovico Einaudi, a piano wizard and she was like you playing great stuff. And I was like yes, I got you now. In my head of course, because I understood that she was making the initiative and well, my moto in life is go with it. Let the stars lead you to where you are going. Go with the wind. Be like water my friend. I knew she was interested because was giving me nervous energy and it made her behave in a way that she couldn’t understand. She was ruled by the collective unconscious and she was possessed and locked in a paradigm that she couldn’t comprehend. She was in a spell. In fairyland. Far, far away. And so I understand baby girl be grumpy and act out. I know I am the one in your mind. Your subconscious, your reality you locked in your own time frame. In different frequencies, different vibrations your being tells you to take control of me. Let’s do this man, I will give you an audience. You pretty, I like you. Let’s see what happens. She took my phone, stating she wanted to see my music. She saw Mozart, she saw Beethhoven, Strauss, Vivaldi, Adele, Amy Winehouse, Moonchild, Pachelbel Cannon, Jay Z, J. Cole, Solange, Al Green, Alicia Keys, Wale, August Green, Jill Scott, Kendrick Lamar, Ludovico Enaudi, Kanye West, Ray Charles, Josiah Disciple, Nina Simone, Common, Charles Mingus, Lauryn Hill, Nora Jones, Lira, Roberta Flack, Dr. Dre, The Delfonics, Pharrell Williams. I felt it was a good list. It is diversified. She compliments me on a couple of albums. I respond, I am flattered, let’s see where this goes. She minimizes the screen and locates my digital library and she sees a lot of Classics and then she locates the one called the Kuma Sutra and her eyes lighted like Christmas day in the movie Home Alone. Oh, you have “Kuma Sutra, she says. I reply,” of course”. “Cool” she responds. She puts my phone down and leaves. I knew I would be hearing from her again. A couple of days later, I got a text “send me the Kuma Suthra”. I knew who it was from and I wasted no time and did what it instructed. I think I have a chance with this hot German lady. It was incredible. It was great. She was a bit older than me. She went to the Gym. She did Yoga. She was fit. Great natural breasts. Wonderful buckets of life. Juicy. Succulent. Sourcy. Delicious. I took kneed of the indicator and followed suite. I attacked like Manchester United in the champions league final in 1999 against Bayern Munich. Bring out Ole, let’s push and he got us that great goal. Ole, Ole, Ole! She started telling me about her fantasies. She started to get sexual. She stated that she wanted to sit on my face. I was perplexed. Like, I can suck on your pussy baby girl, it’s not a problem. I aim to please. But why sit on my face? I responded “I want to fuck those tities.” It was the only thing I could say that could rival her statement. The whole thing now had a life on its only.
After all the talking, flirtation and boastful claims the day happened. It was at her house in Sandton. I disputed restaurants, I thought they were impersonal. So, she made it her task to cook for me. It was good. What can I say? There was always food in the fridge. That’s important. It’s a great thing. Be consistent with matters of life. One thing led on another and we were kissing. It was mellow and grounded kissing. It was gradual, it was artistic, it was filled with desire, kissing filled with faint moans and grows, characterized with tougue service and the exchange of the saliva. Then she slowed down the process and said “let’s go into the bedroom”. And so we went. She told me to lie on the bed and get comfortable and she went to her bathroom. A couple of minutes later, she was in her bra and panties coming right straight at me. It was like a dream, a perfect moment in the scope of the Universe. She started kissing on me and laid me to the bed. At this point, she was the dominant party and I was just recrieprocating her energy. She kissed me on my mouth and my neck. It was slow, it was sensual.
She descented to the bottom and took my pants off. Before she gave me full attention, I took my shirt off. It was proper. It was thorough. Probably the best head I’ve ever had it my life. She gave it respect. She worship my cock, it was great to see. Then she came up when I was on and started kissing me. She took off her bra, while she was on top of me and started giving me handjobs. She was jerking, she was shaking and I was hearing music in my mind filled with melodies and angelic voices. She gave me heaven on earth. She then stopped, got off and took off her panties. She climbed on top of me and we grinded bodies. Her boobs firmly pressed to my chest and we were kissing. My arms covering all of her body like a blanket. It was intimate, it was warm. It was fulfilling and life defining. She then inserted my cock in her pussy and she rocked. Her boobs still to my chest, she used her lower body, bouncing that ass like a rubber ball. The reps started getting higher and higher and she shook like an earthquake, it was violent, it was shaky, it shattered my mind in a million pieces. After that she took a moment and relaxed. My cock still in her pussy. She took it off and kissed me. I was still at the bottom, and she was still on top like mighty Bayern Munich. Like Manuel Neuer, Mr. Sweeper Keeper, the captain. Before I knew it her pussy was in mouth. Goddammit! She sit on my face. Her desire had been fulfilled. If I could I would have avoided that but it was too late now. I had to work with what was on the table. I stuck out my toungue and started locating the clit. I was successful a couple of times and so I kept on going. I activated her like a charger to a dying phone. I was her savior. King serpent with the tongue that strings your pussy like a cello. After she fell on the bed, exhausted. Finally, it was my chance to be on top and I took it like a champ! I started kissing her. Kissed her on the lips. Kissed her on her neck. Descending to her breasts and started sucking, licking and nibbling. It was heaven on steroids with God at the club ordering free drinks to everyone. I descented to the bottom and started kissing the insides of her thighs. I gave her clit a bit of attention and started penetrating. She blossomed like a flower, opening her legs like a gate and I went in missionary style. I started slow so she would get acquainted to the position. I started slow to make her comfortable. I increased the frequency and the reps started doubling and increasing. I was heading to the finish line when something stopped me. I removed my cock in her pussy and started kissing her. Slowly I moved my torso up her chest and put my cock between. She understood the process. She squeezed her tits together and started moving them up and down. She repeated this process and it was delightful. I felt something in me fused and I exploded like fireworks in the sky on the first day of the new year. The evidence lay on her breasts, it was sourcy, it was amazing! The miracle of life. It was a great session. It was a great day. I moved over and went over to her bathroom to take a shower. I took my boxers and headed for the fridge. I took out the orange juice and located a long glass. Poured the juice to the brim and heading to the balcony. With the wind blowing in my face, I congratulated myself, today was a successful day. Because Shira, gave me best pussy of my life. It was the way she opened her legs for me, they spread like a butterfly and I had the permission to do whatever I wanted to her body. It was exhilarating. It was exciting. At times she was submissive, passive and without control. I felt like Hitler with her body, a tyrant, inflicting my will onto her. It felt good, it was a release, it was liberating. It was life at its best moment. Finally I understood Chris Rocks sentiments on that Kanye West song “Blame Game”, she took the game up a whole another level! The fact that she was experienced helped. She wasn’t lazy and a slob. I hate inactivity and a unwillingness to step-up. She wanted to do this and it made things easy for me because all I had to do was step-up and show consistency in my actions. My aim is to get to 30 minutes, if I can do that, then the sky is the limit. However 30 minutes require a lot of practice and exercise, a luxury I don’t currently have. But I am optimistic, with time I will have plenty of practice. What now for the hero? I thought. The world. Business is strictly on my mind now or I will fail, drift off and stumble. While I might think I am autonomous and free, unrestricted and not barred, I was still in the claws of pussy. My perceived control was an illusion.
All she wants is coitus every day. I can’t do it no more. I am not a machine. I have a job, she’s irrational. I can’t be representing all fronts like I am national. The house looks like the aftermath of a tornado, dishes stacked up like a skyscraper. While I am out getting paper, she’s passive like a hater. Lazy as fuck, no pun intended. She’s the type of woman who makes a sloth offended. The sparkle in my eyes gone and my enthusiasm suspended. Just yesterday, she made me a victim of the headboard. Bang, Bang! Dominating me like Serena on the court. Do this, do that, like I am a kid of some sort. She doesn’t even cook and she’s attached to my dick like a hook. She don’t even wear panties anymore. Always exposed like invaluable ore. If her pussy were a stock, it would have plummeted. News just in; Miss Dow Jones loses 90% of her value sending the market into shambles. A gamble, if I am in the house and fully-able.
All she wants is coitus every day. I can’t do it no more. I am not a machine.
The pressures of BDE, I hate it, it’s overrated. Sure it’s got its perks but there’s only so much you can do with 10 inches, it’s heavy machinery. Sure, I am a legend and a God but sometimes I wish I were average. I am a humble guy and I don’t need the spectacles. The pressures of BDE, I hate it, it’s overrated. She has a skinny vagina, she keeps on pushing me back, I am hurting her, the worst thing is that I can’t push it all in, I’ll rip her a part. I am a good guy, I don’t want to send her to the emergency room. The pressures of BDE, I hate it, it’s overrated. She’s reluctant to try out different positions, so I am limited to 3 at most and I still can’t go deeper than 6 inches. I am doing it for her, I am being considerate, It’s too big, it won’t fit. I am decent guy, I don’t want to rearrange her guts. They all want 9 inches until it’s time to play. It’s difficult to be a God. The pressures of BDE, what can I do? I’ll take it, God gave me this gift, I’ll do my best with it.
Porn is so mainstream that I saw some kid watching it in the bus. He wasn’t jerking off or anything like that, he was just captivated by the storyline. He is a strange one, I mean watching for the storyline, I just skip right through to the action. These are our new heroes, the porn stars, these are the rock stars. The kids idolize these guys, I read an article that reported that kids think it’s normal to climax on a girl’s face. Cum on your face, it’s so gross that it’s not even inside your body, it’s outside, right in the hairy ball sack. Girls know they gotta suck dick, it’s customarily, you don’t suck dick and you dying alone. Come on let’s be real, the blowjob is the first scene of any porn film. Do you spit or swallow? You can’t say you don’t like sucking dick, that’s wrong rephrase, rather you don’t know how to suck dick. Aha, now we getting somewhere, admission is the first step to self-improvement. The generic advice is to go on to pornhub and gain tutelage from your favorite pornstar. Porn stars, these are our new heroes. You wanna be one? Oh sorry you gotta have a dick and not a pipi little boy, that won’t do, come back when you have grown. The social anxiety of porn, cause now I need “C-cups” and “D-Cups” and my back resembles an ironing board. Porn stars, these are our new heroes, flaunting unrealistic expectations, dicks so big, they basically a third leg. Scissoring ridiculous, if it were dudes, it would be a sword fight. Girl on girl my favorite but a threesum a grandslam, double penetration is brutal especially if it’s black guys, It’s better to watch the white guys, the blacks have too much confidence, that BDE (Big dick energy) where anything less than 8 inches is a huge disappointment. Porn stars, these are our new heroes, I need to get my lips done, get silicone, practice my vocal chords, try out teabaging and anal doesn’t look so bad. Porn stars, these are our new heroes, I heard there’s an enlargement pill that can add 6 inches, a pill that will make me a God!
A lot in nature is matriarchal. You look at Egyptian mythology, particularly the battle of Horus and Seth. The story is a lot like “The Lion King” in a lot of ways. Osiris is the king of all Gods, he represents the father and order. Like Mufasa on the Lion King, he has an evil brother named Seth who wishes to dethrone him. Finally they engage in battle and Seth kills his brother and cuts him into pieces and throws these pieces in the river to end it all. Isis, the wife of Osiris goes underground in hiding after the death of his husband. One day, while in hiding she goes to the river to get water and miraculously sees these pieces of her husband floating about the river. She collects them and pieces them together (mummify). She then proceeds to take the phallus of her husband and impregnates herself. The end-result is Horus. He represents the hero like Simba. After Osiris’ death there is a dark cloud and destruction looms over everything. Like Simba on the Lion King, Horus must challenge his uncle Seth to restore order in the kingdom. On the Lion King it is Nala who reminds Simba of who he is. Nala is feminine energy and Simbas love interest. Without Nala, Simba is passive and fooling around with Timon and Pumba. There is no Simba without Nala, just like there is no Horus without Isis. This says a lot about feminine energy, the fact that it can cause so much chaos and restore it at the same time. I mean objectively, what more must Seth do? He killed Orisis and cut him into pieces and yet he still lost in the end! The same thing with Scar, he killed Mufasa and Simba ran away. We see this again on the Bible with the story of Adam and Eve. Eve gives Adam the apple from the tree of life to make him conscious. Without Eve, Adam is ignorant, the man doesn’t even know his naked. You could make a case about the world being matriarchal in nature because it’s so chaotic and it is through that chaos that there is order.
Steve Jobs once said “the customer doesn’t know what he wants until you show it to him”. His point was that you must create a need and simultaneously fill it. The sentiment that no one really knows anything has been around for millennia. Nassim Taleb explores thoroughly this on his book “The black swan”, which I highly recommend. The book explores unpredictability, once off events and biases. The internet for example is a black swan event because no one could have predicted it prior to the 20th century. The Covid pandemic is another black swan event, nothing like this has ever happened before, it literally stopped life! We didn’t know what to do or how to react. If you had asked people in Henry Fords time what they wanted, they would have replied a faster horse. How about a horse that won’t die if you don’t feed it or leave it out in the cold? This is the genius of the automobile. To know what people want is to know what you want. I want a great product or service that will serve my needs. I want great customer service. I want ease of use and I want convenience. I want service, care and respect. If you can fill those needs, I am a customer. A big innovation might make your offering popular but what I listed are the fundamentals. If you can do the fundamentals really well, you can attract a lot of customers. This doesn’t require market research. Of course, I am governed by biaes and they dictate my life but human nature still rules. If you can understand people’s motivations, that is, people are narcissists and think the world revolves around them, you will do well in business. Cater to the narcissist in the best way possible, this is a psychological urge everyone yearns for – “Just make me feel special, that’s all I want. Make me feel good!”, that is what people want.
antakalipa 