Speechless

The Best of Me

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Fri, 09 Nov 2012 14:07:00 +0000

Her beauty has gotten the best of me

Her eyes flash memories of her and me twisted in erotic passions
Although we haven't had them...
Yet...

She sat in class
With her ass wrapped in tight fabric
She's what the kids describe as "crew thick"
And all I wanted to do was lick her
From head to toe...

And I don't think she knows
Or even recognizes the things I could do for her...
Release her inner energy as I try to get through to her mind...
Body and soul

I want all of her

Wrapped up in a moment of mental ejaculations that won't seem to leave me alone
When all I want to be is alone

She...

Strokes my bone
Her hands caress my soul

My lips surround her clitoris while my tongue tells her my secrets
And she gets wet
Thighs squeezed together tightly wondering how good I could make her feel

Inside...

From the side...

Or behind...

However it is she likes to be handled
She visualized my hands under her skirt
Undressing her for all of her worth
Eyes closed tight
She moans when I get it right
And her smile radiates the room like some type of guiding light

She has the best of me
So I have to fuck her...

With my words

A Beautiful Site

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Wed, 07 Nov 2012 14:01:00 +0000

Circles

Brown on top of brown
Or pink on top of a succulent mound of pleasure

Firm and radiant
Yet soft and succulent

Light or dark...

Large or small...

Easily aroused...

Sensitive to touch...

I wonder...

How beautiful her breast are.

The Return

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Wed, 07 Nov 2012 13:55:00 +0000

It has been a long time... I've been working on publishing poetry books and photography and stepped away from the blogosphere for a while but I will be posting again. In the meanwhile, check out and order book 1: Speechless Poetry and Art

Follow me on twitter and instagram @speechlesspowet

And I look forward to enlightening your minds once again.

Speechless ©2012

Since the beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 22:43:00 +0000

I wish you could hear her speak...

Like a musical instrument or the sound of symphonies
Her direction, like a great composer
Influencing my thoughts and actions
Her words generate creativity in me and others who are blessed to come in contact with her melodies and harmonies

Her voice follows me...

Telling me where and how to place my hands
And exactly how she needs me to stand
Im forced to obey her every command as she recites her own body into existence...

Her voice is persistent...

Claiming no style or particular way
To teach her style of verbal foreplay
She just arouses me

This she that I envision when she speaks
Claims it to be some alter ego but to me
It's all her...

She's exactly who I need her to be
When I need her to be
She releases herself from my tongue like a foreign language
I guess that means she got me speaking in tongues
But I don't need to understand I'm just here to transcribe the words that I hear when she's near
Allow her to breathe life into my hands
And place beats on my pad
And when she's done,
She calls it what she intended it to be

Spoken rhythms and beats
Sex, love and fantasy
No matter what the decree
It's all just beautiful to me
For she is poetry...

And I've been in love with her since the beginning of forever

Music

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 19:59:00 +0000

http://ia700204.us.archive.org/6/items/AnthonyHamilton--ITried/AnthonyHamilton--ITried.mp3

http://ia600202.us.archive.org/10/items/J.ColeFt.Drake-InTheMorning/J.ColeFt.Drake-InTheMorning.mp3

http://ia700502.us.archive.org/31/items/SummersHeat/Heat.mp3

http://ia700500.us.archive.org/2/items/CarlThomas--SummerRain/CarlThomas--SummerRain.mp3

http://ia600508.us.archive.org/2/items/VBornAgainFeaturingJillScott/08_Born_Again.mp3

http://ia700502.us.archive.org/12/items/AnthonyHamilton--TheyDontKnow/AnthonyHamilton--TheyDontKnow.mp3

Exposed! by "Ya-Ya"

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 22:08:00 +0000

See...me

Litte ole me

Not the me that stands on stage

glove on one hand

raised eyebrow

spitting "fuck you's" to the blind or middle fingers to the deaf of my past

See...me

India!

Yaya gives my true thoughts a voice

so this quiet, timid bullshit has no choice

I am exposed!

Now...

bleeding out the hurt and pain

salivating my desires and fantasies

Can you see me?

Look hard!

Past my glasses, beyond my fat ass

Stare...

Look into my eyes

For...everything

Fire, desire, pain, anger, my fears, my regrets

DO IT NOW!

While I'm exposed...

I have a tendancy to close up

hide from the world

friends have no idea what lurks in my spirit

family don't care

interested male-parties, only want to know what sounds I make when I'm fucking

Are you paying attention?

Watch me!

I just set fire to that little bush of regret hanging over my head like mistletoe

Fuck You, I don't regret shit, I live, I learn, I love

So...

Stare hard...Listen close...and understand me...deeply

because...

I have just exposed...me

~Yaya

She Asked

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 19:40:00 +0000

She... Asked me for a poem

Needed me to play the strings of her heart with lyrical thought
And expose a passion that she desired
To spark her internal fire

Placed a pen and pad in my hand
And ordered me to devise a plan to make her
Cum ... To ... Me

She asked...

And my tongue got a little twisted
With a need to explore her waist line
Had a desire to penetrate her thoughts with my mind
By design
Cause I didn't want to miss my mark

She asked me...

To replace a period of neglect
Focus my desires on her neck
And caress the nerves of her soul with a flicker of my tongue
To take control of her physique
Without force, a verbal degree
Curl her toes without using my hands
And make her knees buckle when she tries to stand

She asked me to...

And I couldn't let her down
Without me going down first
Encouraged her hands to explore places that desired to be touched
By me
Or her, since she can do it better than me
Just let me see...

Thighs quiver, no need for celibacy
Just a desire to feel me inside of her
Throbbing with energy
Pulsating our synergy
Feelings of you and me
Alone

In your mind

As I whisper a poem into your ear

Her Name Is Sweet

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 23:49:00 +0000

Her name is sweet...

Infatuated by her physique
She stays out of my reach
But even now, she sparks my interest...

Although she never knew
Stepped into my life for an hour or two
And made love to my deepest, darkest thoughts...

Didn't know cause I didn't show it
But her body called...
Told me to "embrace every moment"

Wanted to touch those words with the wetness of my lips
Introduce my hands to her gorgeous hips
And trace the shape of her physique with my own...

But my thoughts, they never came to fruition
Even though her body still draws my attention
I can only remember what never will come to be...

Her name is ...

Sweet to me

Rolls of my tongue like synergy
Concerned about her history
And deep inside I hope that she
Is just as beautiful inside as the name she bares.
Hope my words aren't out of line
Just want her to know, to me, she's fine
And her potential will always continue to grow

In my mind

Her. Name. Is...

Beauty and power
Passion and pain
Lover and friend
And every thing between
Hope she's never concerned about who she chooses to be
Keep her mind and her body eternally free
And remain Sweet...
As only she can be

Just for fun (Ms. Yaya and I going in on facebook - this was the intro)

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 18:32:00 +0000

Haven't heard her words in a while.
A shame because she always made me smile
And now the miles threaten to keep us a part
But she continues to be a part of my heart
And my rhythms...
Her style lies deep within them
And I desire to lie within them...

Thighs
All hell, it starts again within our eyes
She lights them up as she removes her clothes
Clears her throat, and curls her toes
She knows
We need to release the beast that feeds our needs
Bust a thrust that's sure to please
We speak
Poetry
The kind to make her drop to her knees
But I always make her wait on me
To go first
Gotta have that first taste
Get in her face
Touch her lips softly with my own and command her to

Spit fiya
Ms. Yaya
Come join me on this poet shit
This breath life into my spirit shit
This lick it before I hits it shit
Dick so hard, bite your lip type shit
This knees start to quiver, you gettin wet type shit
I need it, like you need it and we need it
So just spit it.

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 23:34:00 +0000

Lace ©KHall Photography 2010-2011

All images are available for sale as canvas prints. Email khallfoto@gmail.com

Purple And White Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 23:30:00 +0000

I had a vision...

One filled with beauty and peace
Of purple orchids and white lilies
Laid out as far as my mind can remember...

It's oddly a warm day in December,
And ur beauty...

it lit the skies all around.

I held u tightly in my arms
And whispered poetry to ur heart...

We laid together in this majestic field of violet and white contentment...

The smell of fresh orchids enticed our deepest thoughts
And made us question how this moment in time could last until forever?

I placed a lily against you cheek
Massaged ur delicate physique
And hoped this feeling I held inside would always linger

The thought and sight of beautiful flowers
Continued on throughout the hours
Until I awoke from my desirable fantasy...

And now here I sit in silence wondering
How I feel about this flower thing
And know inside that u will always be...

My temptation

Missing Out

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 20:32:00 +0000

It started as a faded memory

A distant thought of place and times
When our movements were intertwined with one another

A vision of past experiences
That quickly fades into the distances
Of a forbidden history

Do you remember...

Do the thoughts of u and me
Generate internal energies
That desire to be touch like they were once before

Your memory has me loosing sleep and I'm not sure why
Not that I'm the type of guy to linger upon a forbidden treasure
A passion and attraction that I've sought for what seems like forever

But you...

You style and your confidence
Your stance and, yes, your appearance
Continue to torment me until this very moment

I need your thighs around my waste
Your lips upon my own to taste
And even now, I see ur smile slightly stretching across your face

But not trying to be real rude
Cause I never been that dude
So I suppose all in trying to say is

I miss u

Chapter 10: The Early Stages

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 16:54:00 +0000

If I had it to do all over again, I would have just let Babygirl walk out of my life, saving her a lot of heartache and pain in the end I’m sure. But at the time, I felt as though I needed her. She was everything Lady had not been in my life, and my meager, emotionally deprived soul needed her to tell me things would be okay.

My life started down a path I don’t believe I necessarily agreed with. And despite this fact, for some reason it became harder for me to stop. Babygirl and I bounced back from the final encounter with Lady and began to build a truly wonderful relationship, or so it seemed. You see, I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to keep a young female interested in me. I never had to deal with that issue. Lady had taken care of any and all parts of our relationship and now she was gone, fading into my past like a sunset on the horizon.

Babygirl gave me freedoms I wasn’t accustomed to at all. She was the woman who comforted me at night when I felt the need to express myself emotionally. She embraced the friends I had in my life and supported the decisions I chose to make. When Talent and I wanted to hang out late or head to the club, it was Babygirl who provided the keys to her car and told us to “go have fun”. Of course, this wasn’t truly how she felt which I learned through time so perhaps one could argue she played a part in the creation of the monster I was to become.

I truly did care for Babygirl. We had great conversation and communication with each other and spent our fair share of time together. Talent ensured I showed my appreciation for her. What I mean by that is any time Talent and I were out together and he decided to get his girl a gift, then I did the same. A single, long-stem rose here, a stuffed animal there. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t completely mindless in this regard. I still had hints of romanticism. Babygirl and I would go out to the movies, go for a walk in the park, or just lay around at home and enjoy a candlelight dinner together, but it’s important to know not all of the things I did for my then girlfriend arose from my own initiatives.

Even with all I had, a woman who would do anything with me and for me, it didn’t appear to be enough. Nor did it feel as if it would ever be enough. I was cheating. It began slowly at first, maybe a woman or two every two to three months, but increasing in number and frequency over time. I wasn’t purposely seeking out other women, but it seemed as if a part of me felt the need to make up for some of the lost time Lady had created.

I also didn’t trust Babygirl, or any woman for that matter. Not that I had a reason not to trust her. Babygirl was more than willing to give me her all from the moment we first met. Instead, my mindset focused on the fact anyone can and will do anything to anyone at any given moment, a lesson displayed all to well by my beloved first.

What I had now accomplished was the development, fostering and nurturing of a relationship with Babygirl despite having a bleeding heart, which had yet to heal. And it led to me meeting other women, all of whom I lashed out against with all the hurt and pain I continued to harbor deep within. I held every woman responsible for the actions of Lady, Babygirl included. My ignorance justified my motives even though the rationale felt hollow. It became my internal conflict. As wrong as my actions began to be, sleeping with other women yet finding the moral fiber to look a woman who truly cared for me in her eyes and say, “I love you”, it all felt right to me. And I began to believe and understand this is how a relationship was supposed to be.

Cheating for me wasn’t an easy transition. I mean yeah after awhile it became easy. But the first time was actually extremely nerve wrecking. People tend to believe cheaters, or players I suppose you could say, are rarely rattled. I beg to differ. The first few times, I wondered if I acted differently, walked or talked differently, or even smelled any different. I became extremely cautious of what I would say or who was around me. I overcompensated for my indiscretion by becoming more attentive to Babygirl’s wants and needs. I continued to take her to dinner or out shopping, just more so now than before. I cuddled with her. I entertained conversations and discussions with her. And, of course, I made love to her, as frequently as she wanted.

It may all sound odd and probably made less sense, but I ensured her desires were always met so there would be no need to question my actions away from her. Over time, it became easier to live with it. I realize I probably wasn’t as transparent as I believed I was. Yet, I was still cautious in my actions and thinking. That is until I developed the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. The attitude matured, making me more maniacal and cold. And it was based on the following simple premise: the woman who I was with would eventually cheat on me anyways.

I’m not trying to make excuses here. It was wrong, but in my mind, it seemed right because my relationship, as it were, was working. Babygirl had everything, relationship-wise, any woman could want. She appeared to be happy and so was I. I was balancing my emotional life with her by spending time and giving her the things she needed to remain secure. At the same time I continued to enjoy my party life with the fellas and my extracurricular activities as they arose. And the extracurricular arose quite often, especially after I pledged.

I remember how it would happen. The fellas and I would be at a party, and catching the stares of some onlookers, but not really being outwardly social. I was just dancing and clowning around as usual. Suddenly one of the bolder females would make her way towards us. We would exchange names and looks of flattery. “Boy you have some sexy eyes” would be followed by an “I’m glad you think so.” My modesty would appear as overconfidence but rarely arrogance. We would laugh and dance and what have you. The party would end, but the night rarely would. We would get an invite to a room or a house afterwards. I tell this story as cookie-cutter as possible because many times it was pretty generic.

Some women I would be honest with and some I lied to. Just depended how I felt at the time. But over time, I learned it was best to be honest with them. I believed they deserved that at least and it cut down on complications with wanting to be with me. They understood if I had a girl and I made them aware of it, then our rendezvous would never be anything more than sex.

It became easy to tell women I had a girl and not worry about the consequences. A lot of college-aged, sex craving women didn’t care then and probably don’t care much now either. The organization had placed a label on my chest, which lured in women who were in awe of popularity and almost served as a justification to act the way I did.

Women would come and go so easily. I learned some important lessons although I’m really not sure how true the lesson were or are today. Its definitely not a lesson I want to live by now. But nonetheless, I was willing to live by a simple principle: if your truthful with the women you regard as just random “prey” but lie to the one you care about, then it’s really easy to live a promiscuous lifestyle. As off the wall as it sounds, the lesson continued to show itself to be true. It’s ironic how it works, but many women supposedly respected my honesty more than they respected the fact I was in a relationship.

A second lesson I learned was taught to me by another brother-in-arms and he stated it this way: "The worst thing a woman can tell you is no, and you've been told no before so what do you have to lose." These are the first words I can remember actually hearing from the brotha known as Truth, and they continue to affect how I treat, act and react to females to this day.

Truth was a philosophy major with a distinct, thundering deep, harsh voice, which he used to his advantage. He had the uncanny ability to be brutally honest with anyone he came across. It was this bold honesty that would become apart of my inner self, and thus take me into what most people would label as my most scandalous years.

Truth was a dark-skinned brotha. I mean blue-black. For those of you who are ignorant to the term “blue” in the African-American culture, imagine a brother who is so dark, his skin color gives off a tone you couldn't quite label as black. No, the skin actually takes the complexion of another shade of black. So dark that in the right lighting, or absence thereof, the skin appears as another shade of color, which we simply call blue. Ironically, Truth wasn't THAT black, but he was the darkest toned gentleman I associated with. Anyways...

Truth transferred the spring semester following my reunion, as it were, with Talent. He had attempted to join the same organization at his former college, so he was quickly added to our pledge process. The six current pledges, myself included, got the honor of getting to know Truth at an accelerated pace. Honestly, as we became acquainted, I really didn't get to know him as a man but rather just well enough to keep any of the pledges from getting punished for not knowing him. It wasn't until after we were actual members of the organization I really begin to get to know the man.

Truth kept shit real. He wasn't about holding things back to spare the feelings of anyone. He felt it was a lot better to allow people to hear the realities of a situation rather than pipe dreams, and his thought process carried over to women.

I have heard Truth say the weirdest shit to women. Things like, “I’m trying to have you” or “would you mind if I just eat your ass then.” If he were rejected, which surprisingly was only on rare occasions, he would usually respond with, "Well if I'm not your flava, then perhaps my man is."

Together, Talent, Truth and I were a force to be reckoned with. We offered women choice covering the spectrum of wants and desires, from dark skinned to light skinned. From bold, confident and borderline arrogance to soft, quiet, subdued shyness. We gave women an option as to how they wished to be pleased. Our reputations began to precede our presence not only on our own college campus, but also on campuses throughout the states we visited.

We were three of the freakiest gentlemen a woman could meet who shared the same mindset, drive and affection for the opposite sex. Though we had the same passions about women, each of us harbored our own beliefs and thought processes. Our brotherhood and commonalities brought us together and we became the men women both secretly and openly desired to be with. It was a swagger we portrayed. The way we made them laugh or dance or tell their girlfriends about the things they had never experienced but had always wished a man would do. We had no inhibitions and because of that, our bonds grew stronger.

When you begin to feel like you can be yourself around a guy, a brother, then all restrictions go out the window. We shared our stories of sexual dominance with one another, yet surprisingly, our paths never crossed when it came to having sex with women around campus. We each had our own flavor, our own likes and dislikes, so we rarely clashed when it came to pursuing women we were interested in.

It was the talk, the appearance, the lure of sexual fulfillment that I believe ultimately attracted women to us and created the predicaments we found ourselves in. I mean honestly, if I weren’t there to witness some of the situations we found ourselves in, to partake in it, I wouldn’t believe it would or even could happen myself. But that’s just the point of this whole thing isn’t it? I found myself in situations that just don’t happen to people everyday. Or maybe they do and I’m just naïve. They hadn’t happened to me until they happened the first time. And most of these events didn’t occur just once.

For three years, my life revolved and evolved around three separate personalities: Babygirl and the man she desired me to be, the man she thought I was, and my alter ego living in a facade of women, partying and drinking. I managed all of this while working full-time and going to school full-time. The later didn’t work out to well for me. When you spend the majority of your time in college focused on the opposite sex and trying to establish, build and maintain what I deemed to be a healthy relationship, well something has got to give. For me, I decided the grades weren’t the most important thing so they were the first to go. I stopped going to class because having sex was far more important. I visited classes on occasion when I met a female at a party while I was drinking that I wanted to have sex with only to find out she was in a class I was registered for. It gave me a reason to attend if only for a day because I honestly didn’t need more time than that.

It got a bit more complicated once Babygirl and I moved in together. Looking back, knowing what I know now, I would say that moving in with someone your involved with is the worse thing anyone can do if you’re not married. Growing up, I was taught living with a woman, or “shacking up” as the older folks used to call it and undoubtedly still do, was just wrong. It was irresponsible and misleading but to us, it made financial sense.

It didn’t stop my transgressions. Sure, I never allowed things to happen in the bed we shared, but unfortunately we lived in a two-bedroom townhouse. The truth is I allowed the deceit to come inside the home we shared, but it was only on one occasion and I did feel bad about it afterwards. That was just way to far. Plus the woman was extremely vocal, and it was just way out of bonds. I know, now you just flat out hate me. Don’t worry, I hate myself for it but at the time, it was about space and opportunity. There was no fear of hurting my beloved roommate because there was never a fear of being caught, even in this particular circumstance.

Chapter 9: Expectations

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 15:04:00 +0000

Relationships are interesting. Well at least the titles and emotions we associate with each title can be. I often wonder why we as individuals change our mentality with each level of a relationship. In the end, doesn’t it make us harder to understand and get to know?

This is what I mean: We meet a companion, someone we are attracted to for whatever reason, be it because of beauty, intellect, the type of music they are listening to, or because they happen to be sitting alone at a bar just as we are at the time. After some small talk, we come to a revelation that this is a person we would like to see again on a date, out in public and not necessarily just behind close doors. Okay, well many of us decide at that moment this is someone I want to fuck, but for the sake of argument, we’ll assume this is an afterthought.

A few occasions pass and suddenly you are now or becoming one of two things. Either you are becoming friends, which is the ideal path if you ask me, not that you did. Either you’re friends or you’re dating, depending on your perspective.

And now that I’m thinking about it, why do people ask what it is your looking for? Are there people who wake up in the morning and decide, “I’m going to find my girlfriend or wife-to-be today?” And if there are people who think this way, I am deeply concerned about their mentality. I believe if you are looking for a particular thing, then you have in your mind an ideal of who the person is. You want him to look a certain way and act a certain way. That’s not completely a bad thing I suppose but the problem I see is you will try to place people into the mold of your thought process instead of getting to know someone for who they are. If he doesn’t do this then he doesn’t make the cut. If he doesn’t look a certain way then he doesn’t have a chance. Why not just focus on being you and keep an open mind so if someone crosses your path, you will be more open to getting to know them for who they are and not for who they could be in your life.

Anyways, here you are. You have found someone who you seem to get along with and you decide to pursue him or her. It’s a delicate situation because we don’t want to give off the wrong impression. You don’t want to come off to strong and seeming like you want to get this man or woman in a relationship and marriage tomorrow. But you don’t want to become just a friend, a guy or girl who will forever be on the sideline in their life and relationships.

Now some see becoming friends as a dead end. I mean really, if you’re attracted to a woman and you begin to see her as someone you can be with, why would you want to risk her paying you no mind and moving on with some other knucklehead? So many times we panic and go into jealousy mode. We feel like we need to guard our territory maybe. Or perhaps we don’t want to be threatened by the good will and friendship of another companion.

I’m moving to fast again. Emotions and titles is where we were. So when we meet a companion, we present ourselves in a certain way. We have a choice to be open and honest with whom we are at this point in our lives or we can choose to share only what we deem as the “good parts” of us. We are careful in this decision because don’t want to scare away this person of our supposed dreams or lustful desires.

The relationship progresses and you begin to date. Going out to watch a movie or have dinner. Taking strolls through the park. Doing anything we can to learn more and more about the person we have just met. Secretly hoping to get some if the opportunity presents itself but not setting it as a priority.

These things are fine if that is who you are. What I mean is, if its not in your nature to buy a woman a rose from time to time, then I suggest you not do this in the beginning. In my experience with life, women tend to enjoy things like this and will expect it to continue. A fault we make as men is we feel this is just an attention getter; a means of flattery. We don’t feel as if it will continue to be an expectation as our relationship progresses. Cards are great to give. Poetry is my preference, but if we don’t feel like we can keep it up, we might as well expect to argue about it a few years down the road of our relationship.

So again, we present ourselves in a certain way, in a certain light hoping “she likes me.” We decide after a while things are great so maybe we should try this thing out. So you decide to get into a relationship. You decide to be exclusive with this individual. Most of us are definitely fucking by now which a lot of times can cloud the progression of the relationship, especially if the sex is good. We begin to see possible flaws in our companion but they are only minor things we are positive we can deal with or handle. We begin to think differently about our expectations of our counterpart. Sure as a friend or date, you did this, but as my woman or my man I expect this.

Why is that I wonder? Does the title change who we are? If your companion was a bit of a flirt or had a lot of friends, is it fair to expect it all to end? Should we not be able to trust that our companion knows when and where to draw the line without sacrificing the person they are? I’m not saying you shouldn’t expect him to behave, be faithful and treat you as gracefully and respectfully as possible, but what if he is just naturally a social person? Do we shelter the individual to ensure he doesn’t go astray or do we hand them a rope and allow him to do what he chooses with it until he hangs himself? I choose the latter.

Next we decide to move our relationship even further. We cant live without them. Air seems to loose its oxygen content when she’s not around. We wake and sleep with this person on our mind and in our heart. We consider spending the rest of our lives with this individual. You want to sweep her off of her feet. You plot and plan how to “wow” the woman of your dreams. You plan a way to propose a new life together with her, so the two of you can walk hand in hand down the passage of life.

Now I realize some actions should be modified once you enter a relationship. If you have chosen to commit yourself to an individual than it is only fair you spend time with the individual and not focus on trying to spark the interest of any other. But I think a lot of times we have expectations of how our companion is suppose to be. We expect them to change what is in their character to appease us.

Maybe this is too confusing to explain rationally. The problem with expectations is they can differ vastly with our companions. For instance when I say friend, instantly you think of someone you consider a friend. Same thing happens when I say fiancée or husband and wife. Our past and our experiences give us a predetermined ideal of who these people are and how we expect these people to be. But if my vision of a girlfriend or wife or what have you is different than what your vision is, than will it create an issue? Will you expect me to change who I am to fit the mold of your expectation.

Bottom line is we shouldn’t expect people to change who they are when we met them to become the person we expect them to be as our companion. Perhaps it’s an issue much easier said than done. Or maybe I’m just speaking in riddles.

An End

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 18:54:00 +0000

She tends to pull her hair back when she's angry

Or cut it all off if that's what it takes to see

She can be free

without the desperate hands

Of a man she can do without

Her beauty is masked by the hurts and shame

Associated with the name she bares

She wears makeup to hide the path of cries she has shed for him

He apologizes...

And she's sorry that he has to

Sorry that her love was not enough to satisfy his selfish desires

Regretful that her screams for help and attention fell on deaf defiant ears

Hurt that her only course of action was to shed more tears

It's pitiful

That he would place her in the same situation again

All alone without a friend in the world

But how else can he express his love for her

Refrains from putting his hands on her

Yet, still abuses her with this emotional roller-coaster

She continues to ride on in her search for happiness

Forces herself into situations to get some type of interaction

And it only pushes the two of them further

It's the same old story

They both struggle since no one wants to be the one to say that it's over...

Even though everyone knows the truth

This is how it all ends...

For our love

Chapter 8: Sentencing

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 18:53:00 +0000

One hundred hours of community service, $256, and a felony assault on a female is what it cost me to break the strong hold Lady held on me. My court appointed lawyer felt like it was a charge that would be simpler for me to accept rather than continue the heartache and drama associated with it all. The female judge could have cared less what my side of the story was unless I had a witness. Ironically, I had a witness on my two previous visits to the courthouse to stand this so called trial. Babygirl had seen all of the events that transpired and could have allowed me to walk away without any repercussions. Once again, I allowed my ignorance to play me for a fool and figured Lady would once again choose not to show up and allow the case to be dismissed. I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” the judge told me after hearing the fabricated tale of how I pushed Lady down a flight of stairs and threatened her repeatedly at knifepoint. I could only stare at my lawyer and wonder how long he would allow this onslaught to continue. It’s a wonder why so many of today’s youth get caught up in the judicial system.

Women have a tremendously unfair advantage when it comes to issues of assault. You see, in North Carolina, or most states for that matter, regardless of what truly may have happened, a women need only to say something happened then the burden of proof falls on the man to prove his innocence. Not a task easily accomplished unless you have a witness, and at this moment in time, with all the hurt, disappointment and anger I felt, I was alone. I was the angry black man who had attacked the “weaker” sex, at least in the courts eyes.

The true story is ironic in and of itself. I admit I have always had a bit of a temper since childhood. But I have always believed and stood by the fact I would never and have never laid a hand on a woman. I believe it to be an act of cowards and those harboring low self-esteem. But I was angry.

The argument had lasted way too long that day. The relationship was far overdue. The pain I was never allowed to express was being vocalized. A neighbor panicked from the uncertainty of the situation at hand. And the fact I was seen walking around the neighborhood with a knife in hand only exacerbated the fact the police needed to be called.

Lady and I were discussing the why’s and how’s of our relationship. I couldn’t understand how her curiosity would drive her to sleep with someone I considered to be my best friend. Can you believe that was the reason she gave me as to why she cheated on me all those years ago? She was curious. Ok, I can kind of sort of in a parallel universe while intoxicated and tired understand where she was coming from. After all, I was, up to that point, the only man she had ever slept with to my knowledge. But I also felt like our relationship was solid enough to be able to discuss an issue like that if it was on her mind. And why in the hell did she have to get curious about somebody I was so close with? I mean damn, she could have at least had the decency to find some stranger. Or here’s an even better thought, why not shut the fuck up and keep the shit to yourself instead of telling everyone you came to know about what you had done and making me feel like a fool in the process.

I digress. In either case, the anger boiled. I didn’t know what to do, so I removed myself from the situation. I walked out of the house and down the stairs to the parking lot. I begin circling the building trying to calm myself down. After all, I had determined long ago this woman was not worth the hassle. On my third lap around the apartment, I passed her car and stopped. As I stared at my reflection in the window, I began to think about all the things I had given this woman. All the time I had spent with her because it was what she wanted. All of the potential women I put on hold because of our relationship. All of the ass I had passed up on during my early years in college. And all the money I had spent a few months back to put tires on this car.

I continued my fourth lap around the complex. I reached inside my pocket and pulled out the knife I frequently carried with me. I don’t know why I carried it. Maybe it was to feel cool or something. I was young, and it was just the thing to do I suppose. I came around the corner again and focused on the front tire of the vehicle. At that moment, it felt like the right thing to do; to regain some of the emotions I had given for what I deemed were her years of betrayal.

As the blade pierced the wall of the front tire, I could hear the sound of air being released and with it my pain, sorrows and misunderstandings. I inhaled deeply as the front end of the car sank further to the ground and I could feel the release of pressure from my heart. I felt free at that moment.

I started back up the stairs towards the apartment door and saw Lady come storming outside. She passed by me silently headed to her vehicle. I walked inside the apartment, shut the door behind me and locked it. I could see Lady reacting outside to the revelation her car was immobile. A smile grew across my face and I felt redeemed, but only for a moment as I suddenly realized Babygirl was pulling into the parking lot. I opened the door and my argument with Lady erupted as Babygirl stepped out of her car.

“Yes.”

Babygirl was leaving in a fit of hurt and rage once the police arrived. Lady was standing on the curb and flagged down the officers. I wasn’t sure what she said, but something suddenly felt very wrong with the whole situation. I was getting ready to get in my car and follow after Babygirl when one of the officers told me I needed to remain at the scene. An ambulance showed up shortly after and escorted Babygirl away. I asked what was going on but it seemed as though no one was willing to answer any question I posed at the time. Next thing I know I was being read my rights. After hearing my side of the argument, the officer assured me it was merely a formality.

The first court date came and passed. It took me time and money to return to my hometown where this whole fiasco had transpired. Having to take an hour and a half to drive all the way into the city only to be told the case would be continued because the “victim” was not present was a bit disturbing. My lawyer asked what I felt Lady’s true intentions were. I had no idea. I would have never thought it would have come to something like this. He listened to my side of the story and told me I should have nothing to worry about. Besides, I had a witness. Babygirl had continued to stand by my side through hours of explanations and days of apologies. And she had made the journey to court with me to ensure things remained fair.

A few months later, a return trip was in order. Again, Lady did not show up. My lawyer decided at this point all of the hassle was Lady’s last attempt to hurt me, but perhaps she had realized the error of her ways and decided not to pursue this futile effort of hers. It sounded good to me. I hadn’t spoken with her for months. And besides, the thought of even being in a courtroom was becoming repulsive to me. I hadn’t gotten so much as a speeding ticket growing up and the only trouble I had found myself in were the childhood fights we all went through growing up. I had witnessed plenty but kept my distance from trouble.

My lawyer’s over-confidence assisted with my downfall. A few months passed and again I found myself back in my hometown waiting to hear my name be called from the list of the accused. My lawyer and I sat in the back of the courtroom talking about nothing. I was feeling relieved knowing I would no longer have to deal with this time consuming venture and I’m sure he was content because he would get paid regardless.

Just when I was preparing to leave near the end of the bailiff’s final call, a door opened and Lady walked in. Looking back now, it was actually quite dramatic. Here is the threatened female, too scared to show up in court alone, now present with another female friend by her side. This slim woman wearing glasses played the victim role so well and I looked to my lawyer for answers. His suggestion, since my witness wasn’t present, was to plead guilty in hopes the judge would show sympathy towards a first time offender who had realized the errors of his bad judgments. It sounded good to a young, scared nineteen-year-old black man.

Well, the problem with this was after my plea, they allowed Lady to speak. And she did what she had come to do. She would make sure I was punished for my disobedience. She would ensure I was forever scarred for my disloyalty. She would get on the witness stand in front of everyone who remained in the courtroom and lie about the whole thing to a biased female judge. She told them how I pushed her down and pulled her down the flight of stairs trying to remove her unwilling body from the premises. How I threatened her at knife point and slashed her tires as she struggled to get in the car and drive away. Maybe she should have been the writer; she was definitely more imaginative than I could ever be.

For far too long, Lady’s actions had scarred my being and had not allowed me to ever truly trust a woman or give them my all. I learned at that moment I could only control my own actions so I stopped concerning myself with the actions of those I chose to be with when they were not in my presence.

Verbal Quickies

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 14:09:00 +0000

I want to set you free mentally...

Allow your mind to utilize the time to release your inner desires.
Unbound erotic possibilities you hesitate about.

Let me captivate your soul
And taste you spirit

It's a sexual buffet
So let's drink to our pleasures

Allow your sweat nectar to roll off my chin
Yeah, I thought that would make you grin
Want to introduce my lips to places you can only point out
Suck on feet and toes so you can see what that's about
Take pictures and a video to have something to critique later
Replay the parts that get you off and do them over and over

...and over

I want to make you stutter
Toes curl over
Floors and walls flutter
As we fuck

Forever

Til it ends.

Stay

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 13:04:00 +0000

I met her in the crowd
And although the noise was way too loud
I could sense we made a connection

Was quick to change direction
And generate a little conversation
Tried to keep my thoughts from wondering
Of what she might need from me
Exchanged pleasantries,
but secretly pondered other things
Undisclosed
beneath our clothes
Our pulse began to race toward each other

I could see it in her face
This desire she disguised
Secret pleasures she likes to hide
Between her thighs
I felt her shake...
But she would never admit this
Hoping to get the number, u know, share the digits
So I could explore sexual pleasure that she would later miss while I was gone

As quickly as she came, she faded into the crowd
Swallowed up by the noise that was way too loud
And we both were left to consider what could have been

If only she had stayed

I wonder

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 19:07:00 +0000

This mind is amazing
Allowing mental intercourse that will have u dazin'

Infatuation...

Dont deny this thing or make a fuss
Cause there's no rush
This dick is just
Re-DICK-u-lust...

Rewind

And allow ur mind to fathom the unimaginable
Incomprehensible time tables
That measure the pleasure of infinite possibilities.
As ur down on ur knees seeking the fountain of youth
Which sprouts between ur legs as u continue to give this head...

Allow me to dive into ur pool of untold bliss
Then reminisce
On times before we meet
And determine u've never been quite this wet
So what could it be about this being before ur eyes, between these thighs that u so eagerly have given to me?

At least to some degree...

It's destiny...

Awaiting to be experienced

Or perhaps within this amazing mind of mine or in another lifetime...

I wonder

Chapter 6: Confessions

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 20:35:00 +0000

Chapter 6: Confessions

"So why didn't you just tell me you had a girlfriend," Babygirl asked inquisitively. She had been doing a little homework behind my back. Apparently the two-hour sex extravaganza had left a bit of an impression on the young lady. Yeah, I know. You feel like I'm exaggerating but some guys actually can have sex for longer than ten or twenty minutes given the right mindset and circumstances.

My guess is Babygirl awoke the following day filled with all types of feelings and emotions she hadn't felt before. Those desires were undoubtedly a combination of her wanting to be catered to and me wanting to touch the heart of another soul. What made it even more eccentric was the fact her feelings poured out for a guy she hardly knew except for a brief conversation in class and a dance that plastered a childlike smile on her face for the evening at work. So Babygirl did what any female would do. She asked around about me. The Twins, my first two female friends from my first year at my new college, were more than happy to appease her curiosity. The elder of the two knew more about me than almost anyone else on campus.

"Because it's complicated," I responded. I tend to understate the obvious from time to time. I rehashed the story of Lady since I now had a new audience to entertain the slow release of hurt and anger built up within me. I gratefully revisited the inner torments I continued to struggle with. She listened silently, only on occasion interjecting with a quaint, nonchalant yet understandable "mm hmm." I knew it was wrong I hadn't told her and I only hoped she would not hold my deceitful actions against me, no matter how right or wrong we both felt they might have been.

"Ok, but I just wish you would have told me," was her response.

"Thank you for not being angry."

"I didn't say I wasn't angry, only that I understand."

"Well, I understand and I would hope I haven't given off the wrong impression." If you're not keeping up, Babygirl was only my third sexual partner. And she was wonderful at what she did. Our two bodies fit together like a hand in a glove and from that moment on, it appeared I had developed a constant release for the hurt I had built up from Lady.

Conventional wisdom says you should never enter a relationship when you have just experienced the type of heartache I had, but I allowed Babygirl to enter my life anyway and unjustly so. I didn’t accept her for who she was or who she could be. She, instead, came to represent everything Lady was not. She allowed me freedoms I was not accustomed to enjoying. She encouraged my hanging out with the fellas, often supplying her vehicle for our intrastate road trips once the pledge process was over. She became a confidant and a friend when I needed one, but Lady was still lurking in the background and still held both a sexual and emotional stronghold on my soul.

I continued to try to resolve my relationship with Lady. Babygirl vowed to stand by me because she respected the fact I was honest enough to tell her I couldn't handle Lady on my own. Or perhaps Babygirl stood by because she felt like she could win my heart over time while Lady continued to toy with my emotions. In either case, it is an unknown answer to a question I never bothered to ask.

The paths of Lady and Babygirl would eventually collide, which would bring to an end an early chapter of my life, in a sense. The first time, of course, was simply to pacify Babygirl’s curious nature. I assume any other females in her position would have the same curiosity. She had to know what Lady looked like. She did so without having to meet Lady face to face. She simply drove by my dormitory when she knew Lady was coming to see me.

I don't really understand why females choose to put a face to a name. I’m sure, as you have been reading, you have formulated a vision of me and of the ladies you have “met” thus far. Perhaps I remind you of a person you have crossed paths with in your own lifetime. Or maybe you are dealing with your own “guy” as you read right now. I can only speculate as to why this is, though I may be way off base. And if I am on the wrong path with this, I’m okay with it because it definitely wouldn't be the first time in my life.

Somewhere deep inside, whenever a woman feels as though she is in competition with another woman over a man, the first thing they want to judge is the physical attributes of the other woman. The only problem with this is you never really know what it is attracting that guy to that girl. I'm not too big on the physical appearance of a woman. I mean I am, but there has to be some sort of mental stimulation as well. And now that I think about it, I believe this is the reason why it turns me off when the only thing a woman can talk about is how good she thinks I look. It becomes annoying and unattractive to me. A female friend of mine once pointed out to me that women reach the same conclusion of men who focus solely on their physical appearance. It’s ironic many women do the same thing and yet see no fault in it. As far as I’m concerned, there are far more men out there who are a lot more attractive than me, so why focus or base a relationship on someone’s appearance?

The next time I can recall the two women’s paths crossing was the night I officially crossed the burning sands of my Greek-lettered organization. Lady came up uninvited with Ricky and my Mother. I had no knowledge of her presence and as you would expect, Babygirl was there. She had spent the past seven months or so supporting my decision, staying up late nights with me and the fellas to ensure we knew the information we needed and supplying me with things forbidden to the prospective applicants: Sex. Sweets. Sex. Fast foods. Did I mention sex?

When the “coming out” show ended, in all the commotion, Babygirl faded into the crowd as she watched Lady interact with my mother, Ricky and me from a distance. To say Babygirl was a bit perturbed would be greatly demeaning the emotion of anger. In her eyes, I was going away with a woman I professed to dislike so much for so long. And in my ignorance and emotional insecurity, I allowed Lady to again manipulate the situation. It took me two hours to get rid of Lady, thanks to Talent, and a long, sleepless night to get back in the good graces of Babygirl.

The final time the two ladies met would be the most destructive. It was the final summer I spent in my hometown and I was trying to get on with my life. Yet, Lady's presence was still pretty strong. I had begun to sleep with other women at this point, though there were not many. In fact, their existence should hold little significance, yet they represent the beginning of a much larger lifestyle of deceit on my part. Up until these few women, I had always been honest with both Lady and Babygirl in regards to who I was sleeping with. These few random women remained silent and a secret to the two main women in my world.

Lady came to my brother’s house, where I was living for the summer, distraught about something she had done. I let her in although I’m not sure why. I don’t believe it was due to wanting to let her in but probably more so need. She was a friend looking for advice apparently, and I was a hurt soul in need of something else. We talked. We hadn't communicated openly and honestly in so long. It was refreshing. It was a mental release of sorts for me. And it led to an action I regretted shortly after. Our bodies lay naked together for the last time. I felt as though I was retrieving a portion of my soul that had long evaded me. She comforted me as I did her and for a moment, I returned to the earlier days of our sexual curiosities and rekindled a long lost relationship.

A few days later, reality resurfaced into madness. Lady and I was knee deep in an argument when Babygirl came to town. By the time she arrived the emotions had boiled over between Lady and I and we were definitely in need of separation. Apparently the actions of the previous days somehow justified to my ex she was still in control of me and therefore had a right to deny me an opportunity to pursue a relationship with Babygirl or anyone else for that matter. When she arrived, Babygirl remained calm and tried to bring peace to a highly volatile situation.

“Just tell me how it got to this point here,” Babygirl asked me trying to divert my rage into a casual conversation.

“Oh that’s an easy answer right there,” Lady replied. “He thinks he can still fuck me and everything will be just fine with the two of you.”

I stood there shocked and appalled. It never dawned on me my actions, my last expression of love for a woman I continued to hold so close to my heart, would be betrayed. I knew it was wrong when it happened. I knew I should have told Babygirl I was still struggling to get over my hurt and pain. I should have told her I wasn’t ready to move on, but I felt she was the answer to my questions. I believed she was the resolution I needed to help me move on instead of dealing with the issues myself. Her head turned swiftly from hearing Lady’s final word and refocused angrily into my eyes. The question rose from the depths of her soul as I could see the tears she was fighting back well up in her eyes.

“Is she serious,” she asked me with a hint of doubt in her voice.

“Hell no, that ain’t true,” I responded looking past my current love interest into an expression of selfishness and sarcasm that Lady now displayed.

“Tell me the truth,” Babygirl stated sternly, making certain my eyes showed her the attention she so deeply desired at this junction. “Did you sleep with her?”

I was lost in her stare. It was a vision of concern, not only for her but also for me. It was as if her eyes were speaking to me, telling me this moment in our life was the most important. There was no way we could build a respectful relationship built on lies and misconception. There was no way she could help me through my struggles without an affirmation of my dedication to her. I felt the tears build up inside and my answer hit the air before I realized I had said it.

“Yes.”

Climax

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 12:49:00 +0000

I eagerly await this penetration of ur soul.
This physical connection that sends internal vibration to ur mind from ur toes and all spots in-between.
It's deep...
A journey within ur abyss of pleasure
A simple thought to treasure
And one well beyond measure
It's ... Fulfillment
A interconnection of wills that
Defies rationalization.
It's hard to explain...
But you'll feel the pains of lust and desire
As I slide inside to light the fuse of that internal fire that will make you loose ur mind
No composure
No rules of engagement
Just fucking...
For fucks sake
To arrive at a climax you've never thought was attainable

Chapter 4: A Fresh Start

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 15:16:00 +0000

Chapter 4: A Fresh Start

Something I’ve heard consistently for most of my dating life is “where are all the good men these days”. Apparently, according to most women, the good ones are all taken which is mostly true I guess if you buy into hearsay. I believe most “good men” have just been transformed through circumstance and experience into the not-so-good or less desirable types.

Now don’t put the book down quite yet, just allow me to explain. It is my belief there is a crossroad every young man comes to at some point in his life. And it’s at this juncture a decision has to be made whether or not to journey down one of two paths. Whichever choice he makes, for good or for bad, it will continue to be at the root of each major decision in his life and anyone’s life he may come in contact with. The choice: does he do what is right or does he do what he knows and understands to be wrong. It boils down to that complex decision and what he decides to do at that point will develop him into the man he will become.

Up until the point where I had my heart crushed and my world as I knew it collapsed around me, I believed I was the good man. I felt I was the guy who would always do what was right. I had developed a strong sense of devotion and dedication. I had a strong foundation in my faith in God. I was raised the way any single mother would raise her youngest son in hopes he would not become one of the numerous “no good” men his mother resented because of their previous transgressions. Most importantly, I liked the man I was inside.

In one instance, one moment in time, my first love had violated all the things I knew near and dear to me and sent me towards a dark path of an unknown world. Well, perhaps it was more than just the one particular event, the lies associated with it, or the drawn out break up which turned my emotions inward, shut off from myself and the things I saw as important in life. It was these events mixed in with a little bit of influence from outside sources.

Men, you see, we tend to congregate together if you haven’t noticed. We rarely have the compatibility issues our female counterparts tend to have. We bond with one another on so many different levels, and it is towards our most genuine companions we tend to most emulate and gravitate. Perhaps it is the deep-rooted desire to have a personal relationship with our fathers, who sometimes have gone on to live their own lives, which forces us to build each other up.

Whatever the case, statistically speaking, I’m confident saying if you find a group of men or connect with a bunch of guys, you will generally find they act a lot alike. They will use the same phrases and mannerisms… that is if they truly consider each other to be brothers. Maybe it’s the whole “alpha male theory” that applies here; basically, the most dominant traits in the pack float to the top. I don’t know and maybe I am stretching a bit here, but I believe no matter how you look at it, my boys were partially instrumental in my initial transformation from childhood to manhood.

I still remember the wait in line for financial aid when I was registering for the new semester. I was still trying to figure out how Lady had managed to get me to leave the campus I admired for so long to end up in a place where my face vanished amongst a crowd of white students. More importantly, I wondered how exactly black could actually fade into white. Not that I am racists or attempting to be controversial. I guess that’s another story.

After sitting for more than thirty minutes the silence was broken by the comedian sitting across from me. Apparently, him and I were in the same boat, both of us having transferred from other schools and finding our schedules and financial aid ridiculously complicated. Our hysterical outbursts served to pass the time and relieve the stress felt by everyone else present.

The hours passed, we entertained and went about our jovial lives. Ironically, my comedic counterpart, who became known to me as Talent, and I would end up in a sociology class during our first semester, but we still kept our distance from one another. Not sure why that was. Outside of exchanging pleasantries and our discord about the professor, we really never talked outside of the ten-minute forums before and after our beleaguered hour of torture. It wasn’t until the following year that the two of us would become brothers-in-arms.

Talent had a gift. Well, he had many gifts actually. For one, the man could flat out sing. Sure, we’ve all had friends who could sing, but this brother could blow like no other ironically, because he COULD blow like any other. He could mimic any singer’s voice to the T. “Except Keith Sweat,” he admitted to me once because the man “whined way too much.” It was amazing how many women this man could bring around with nothing more than a hum.

Talent was also a comedian. I mean literally. He did stand up comedy at a few spots around town. He could mimic just about any comedian’s voice as well. The brotha used his gifts to lure in women of all shapes and sizes. Many times I sat in awe, as did everyone else who stood around. He used to sing Jamie Fox’s stand-up comedy version of ‘Mary Mary’ all the time, which cracked me up. I remember it going something like this:

Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

Girl I bet you I can wet you, really nice and slow.

One day Mary, she got weary, and left me all alone.

I wonder if Mary knows, how much I love her so-

Mary and Talent in a tree

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

First comes love, then comes marriage,

Then next comes Mary’s baby carriage…

Talent was an intellect. He was one of those brothas, who grew up in the streets but made sure his common sense matched his knowledge of the hood. He was a human thesaurus and could move a crowd when he spoke. It was incredible how well he could articulate a thought and how he mastered the human language.

Talent also had a temper. He was a big man. He stood roughly 6’3” and every bit of 210 pounds. His fists were large and worn, tested by the many battles of his youth. He was the guy you would call if you were having trouble, or even if you weren’t having trouble but wanted to. He enjoyed a good skirmish and constantly boasted there wasn’t a fight he had lost. From the stories and jokes he told, he had quite an impressive resume.

It was the fall of my second year at my second university when our paths collided. At the end of the spring term, myself and four other young men had begun a journey to become members of a Greek letter organization. And though we were apart from each other over the summer months, we were required to keep in close contact with not only each other but with the big brothers of the organization as well. A few weeks before the beginning of the fall semester, I received the call we would be adding another individual to our numbers and I needed to make contact with him.

“You know who he is,” I was told. “Everybody knows him.”

“I don’t know that nigga,” I amusingly responded. Come to find out, that “nigga” was Talent. We stood face to face the first day of school and responded simultaneously with glee once we laid eyes on each other.

“Oh, this nigga,” we screamed! We greeted each other the way most young black men do these days, with a firm grip of hands pulling each other into a manly embrace, as if we were old friends who grew up in the neighborhood together for years and hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks. From that day on, it seemed as if we were inseparable. And when the ordeal occurred with my first, it was he who gave me the path to healing.

“Man, you just need to pull yourself together and move on. There are way too many females out here to trip out about some nonsense. I think you’d better let it go (a la Teddy Pendergrass).”

He was correct in his wisdom and over time, he gave me his gift. You see, though I had been around Talent watching him from a distance, it wasn’t until we were pledging that I realized how much of a womanizer he was back then. This brother had the gift of confidence. It was something I lacked at the time and Talent exploited my subtle shyness and eagerness to learn to express myself. He used it all to our advantage.

He realized my hazel eyes were somewhat of a female magnet. So many times he would lure women in with the singing and they would cut an eye at me. He would then be my voice. It took me a while to realize it but I could see it happen more and more until eventually his voice became my own. The first time I really saw and understood what was happening occurred in another class we had together.

Although it had been a year since Sandra had tarnished my opinions of women and relationships, I was still struggling with breaking down the shackles that had me bound to Lady. And it was around this moment in time I met a young woman who also would have a profound impact on my life, although she was never appreciated for what she was worth. In hindsight, I should have taken the same approach with her I had originally taken with Lady. I should have just waited. There was no rush, but the way we met and the whirlwind that followed wouldn’t really allow for patience to play any type of role.

Talent had met Lady during the year following his and my reunion. He had a front row seat to the madness remaining from a relationship that had existed for far too long. Longer than I believe anyone would and should have expected it to, including Lady and me. There were terrible arguments between the two of us, Lady and I, and even through all of the drama, I couldn’t let her go. I didn’t actually know how to let her go.

Sandra continued to complicate my life for a short while, but our rendezvous grew desolate once the summer ended and I returned to college. We spoke on the phone a few times, but the relationship, if that’s what you deem to call our few sexual escapades, was hollow from the beginning and therefore had no hope of ever budding into the relationship I believe she hoped it would.

Talent would constantly ask me what the hell I was thinking. Lady was not the female many felt I should have been with. Not only that, it seemed as though apparently a brotha of my stature and appeal to women should not just “settle” for what I thought was all I could get. So the search for a new life began. Of course, I wasn’t aware of this quest, but Talent certainly was.

The first time I was privy to the esoteric quality my eyes held was during a class Talent and I shared. African-American History. It was his idea. Not because either of us were history majors, but rather it fulfilled a general education requirement. And at this traditional university, it was a guarantee the majority of the Black women in their first and second year of college were going to be in this course. It was probably about an eight to one ratio, female to male, which was right where we needed to be apparently.

“Hey, are those your real eyes?” I was asked one day right before the hour was coming to an end. The question came from a young lady Talent had obviously marked as a new victim.

“Yes, they are mine, last time I checked.”

“What color are they,” she inquired.

“I’m not sure, you tell me,” I responded laughing. “You’re looking at them. They tend to change depending on my mood and what I’m wearing.”

“Like a mood ring, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to describe them.”

“Well, Babygirl thinks they are gorgeous.”

“Bianca!” Babygirl responded shockingly, caught off guard when her friend had revealed the secret they had recently discussed.

“Is that right?” I questioned. My eyes now shifted focus from Bianca, the origin of the initial question to the now flustered Babygirl. She was a beautiful young woman with phenomenal legs and an ass like none I had laid eyes on up to then. The perfect muscle sat upright on her back, supported by thighs developed from years of dance, cheerleading and softball. I had actually seen her five foot four inch frame around the campus a few times, most recently during the Greek softball games which I had taken part in although I was not officially Greek at that point.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she answered.

From there we carried on the normal exchange between college students. Questions of where are you from followed by what’s your major were answered and there was a strong initial attraction. The class was dismissed, we chatted our way out the door and then we parted ways. Babygirl and Bianca went their way while Talent and I continued our regular routine towards the cafeteria.

I felt good about the initial meeting. I honestly never thought I would be able to speak to Babygirl although my eyes had definitely wandered her way from time to time. But I really didn’t put too much hope into it until Talent wandered into my room later that evening.

“Hey dog,” he began. “Bianca is coming by after work tonight.”

“That’s straight,” I responded, not allowing my eyes to wander from the Madden NFL game I was currently zoned into at the time, while lying on my bed.

“She’s bringing Babygirl with her.”

“Word?!” I couldn’t contain my excitement as I sprung up from the bed and dropped the remote, game instantly forgotten. “Tell me you’re playin’.”

“Not at all.”

“Man, I love that woman. She is so sexy to me.”

“Yeah she is. And I bet the ass is like Campbell’s soup. Mmm-mmm good!”

Talent had a way with words.

Bianca and Babygirl graced us with their presence before they went to work for the evening. Bianca came upstairs and left Babygirl in the car waiting, so I went downstairs to keep her company. I really don’t remember all of the conversation we had. Pleasantries were continued from earlier in the day and flirtatious looks were exchanged. I remember I stood outside the driver’s side of Babygirl’s car leaning into the driver’s window. I started dancing to the music. She asked why I was doing the butterfly outside of her car to which I responded, “Uh-uh that’s old, let me see you tootsie roll.” As corny as it was, we both laughed and her smile made me feel as though everything was better than things seemed at this point in my life.

The ladies came back late that night as promised. After working long hours at the late night fast food restaurant, Babygirl and Bianca looked equally tired. After some cordial conversation, Talent and Bianca disappeared into a back room of the apartment and left Babygirl and me alone in the silence of the moment. I broke the silence by offering a tired woman a massage.

“Of course. Are you any good?” she inquired.

“I do okay for myself,” I assured her. She lay down on the floor of the living room and allowed my hands to investigate the curves beneath her uniform. Her body was firm, yet soft and yielded to the slight pressure I applied. The soft moans she released from time to time were confirmation my desires were eager to be accepted. I interrupted her comfort to escort her to the bedroom where the physical arousal would continue.

The massage continued. I moistened my hands with lotion and allowed them to explore the terrain.

“Is it ok if I unhook this,” I asked, referring to her bra strap.

“No, go ahead,” she whispered softly.

I asked because I didn’t want to violate her expectations. I was also journeying into unchartered waters and didn’t want to come off the wrong way. Every fiber in my being wanted to be with her the more I caressed her body. My thoughts begin to play tricks on me as my body stiffened with anticipation.

Up until this point, another woman had never aroused me other than Lady. Sure, I had laid with Sandra on two occasions, but my mind was never there. And without the mind, the body fails to perform to its fullest potential. Though I barely knew the woman, I had watched her from afar for nearly a year. I felt connected to Babygirl in a way I had never felt before. I wanted to lie with her. I wanted to show her all the love and affection pent up inside of me. I wanted to perform like I had never done before.

Our lips met in the darkness and our hands undressed each other, guided only by the memories of our imaginations. The light from the moon peeked in from the open shades and reflected off of the firmness of her naked body. My pulse raced faster than it had ever done before. The pace of our breathing heightened beyond measure. My kisses traveled from her lips to the nape of her neck, from her hardened nipple to the edge of her belly button. The journey ended between her thighs and at this moment, our two souls became one.

Just A Kiss

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 13:30:00 +0000

It was just a kiss...
A chance encounter between two people that caused them to reminisce.
Of past relationships
And future sex quicks
Or quickies
And longies and acts in between

Just a kiss...

Our lips collided and gave way to possibilities of erotic escapades
Of consensual threesomes or sex in the Everglades
Maybe inside an Escalade
Or exploring unlimited different ways.

A kiss...

That made you rain down inside your pants
A moisten up my hands
Like I was holding a hundred grand
And it should have continued, this physical act of arousal
This casual precursor to licking your body in places before unreached
Or maybe before but none quite like me...

Those lips led down to those lips wrapped around my lips as my tongue explored those lips and these words from your lips...

"That was AMAZING"

Just a...

Repeated memory that I cant shake or seem to wake from.

Just a feeling of desire I want more of

A lust

A want

A kiss

Can I have another?

Chapter 2:Betrayal

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 12:43:00 +0000

I didn’t attend Hampton alone. I was accompanied by yet another childhood acquaintance. Philip and I grew up in church together until his parents were led to another pastoral father figure who guided their religious lives. Our paths continued to cross through childhood and high school. We played four years on the same baseball and football teams. We had several classes together as well. And in addition to Ricky, and whomever he was dating at the time, Philip and his companion were pretty much the only people Lady allowed me to hang out with.

We all spent many evenings together going on dates, mostly to the bowling alley or to see a movie. When Philip approached me during our senior year of high school and inquired about what college I was planning on attending, he was excited when I said Hampton because it was one of his choice schools as well. Both of his parents were alums, and as legacy they encouraged him to go there as well. When he told me his plans for Hampton, I was just as excited about his as he was about my own. Who wouldn’t enjoy being able to have a familiar face when you are away from the comforts of home?

Philip and I were inseparable our first semester. We did everything as a duo even though he was housed in the dormitory cattycorner to my own. We became known as “The Carolina Connection” during spades tournaments, which was the game that brought us in contact with numerous other young men from across the country who had decided to further their development at Hampton. And as a collective group of 12, our fellow classmates knew us simply as “The Spades Players.” During the day, we went our separate ways, but around three o’clock every day you could find us in the lobby of Harkness Hall doing what we were known for.

Each team had its own method of play. We all had our own methods of cheating as well. After a while, it was almost impossible to pull off on the other teams since we were so familiar with one another. We partied together, drank together and went on road trips together. It was the perfect year of college. Those games and my boys were some of the things I would miss the most once Lady made the decision it was time for me to depart.

The following year, even though I had transferred to a college back in North Carolina, Lady saw fit for us to attend homecoming at Hampton. I was elated to return and get the opportunity to see my boys and reminisce. Philip’s parents had bought him a condo just outside the campus gate so Lady and I weren’t concerned with where we would stay.

Lady, Tracie, who was another female friend we all knew from school, and I made the journey up the coast. The weekend went along as any other would, at least on the surface. I saw all of my friends. We all went out. We had a party at the house. There was underage drinking, card playing and whatnot. We attended the football game and did all the things I used to do with my boys during my freshman year. I really missed the place. But all of this was merely superficial. It’s what went on underneath the surface that impacted my life forever.

The Saturday night before we were to return to North Carolina, I remember the four of us, Lady, myself, Philip and Tracie, all sitting in the condo joking around as always. It was cold in the house, so Philip brought an electric blanket into the living room. We all snuggled up beneath it trying to keep warm and reminisced about high school. As it got later and eyelids became heavier, we decided it was time to break away for the evening. Philip retired to his room. Lady and I went to the second bedroom where we had been staying and Tracie assumed her position on the couch. Lady and I lay next to each other embracing as always when she decided that she needed that electric blanket from Philip.

“I’m going to take it from him,” she said.

“He’s not going to let you have it,” I groaned, exhausted from the partying, card playing and alcohol consumption of the week. Philip and Lady had been going back and forth about it all night.

“We’ll see,” she said. My eyes slowly closed shut as I dozed of to a vision of Lady exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

I didn’t really enjoy my first year at my new school. It’s hard to adjust when you move from a predominately black university to a traditionally white one. The only good part about it is it was fairly easy to make friends considering the black population was so small. Not as if I’m against making friends with other races. I guess you just have to be there to see my point. My new location did make it easy to come back home during the school break and catch up with Ricky and my family.

Things had gotten really awkward between Lady and me but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. It just seemed as though we didn’t spend the same amount of time together that I had grown accustomed to. Not that it bothered me much. I am not now nor have I ever been a jealous type of guy. I understood college brought additional responsibility, and I was satisfied with the time I was getting. The summer following the school year, when we were all together again, there was just a feeling in the air. Ricky and I discussed it one night on the way to the bowling alley.

“Man, have you ever just felt like things weren’t quite right,” I asked.

“What do you mean, dog? Talk to your man,” Ricky responded in his usual jovial manner.

“Things between me and Lady, they’ve just been odd lately,” I said. The vision of the passing painted lines on the highway reminded me of those first rides on the school bus that started our friendship and made me chuckle a bit under my breath. “I think she may be doing something behind my back, but I’m not too sure.”

Ricky sat quietly listening as he drove the car in and out of traffic. I continued to voice my concern about my relationship and questioning myself about whether I was doing something wrong. I mentioned I had questioned Lady about us and had asked her if there was anything happening that she felt I should know about. I asked if she had gotten bored with our relationship or if there was another guy she was interested in. She denied any wrongdoing and told me I was being a bit paranoid for no apparent reason.

“Still,” I said, “Something just ain’t sitting well with me, man. You know what I mean?” Ricky continued to sit quietly yet astute as if there was an answer he held to an unasked question. “Forget it, man I’m tripping. How’s school going?” Our conversation shifted gears from that moment and continued uneventfully for the rest of our journey to the bowling alley.

Ricky and I parked and exited the vehicle. Philip had been following close behind with his current acquaintance in his passenger seat. Lady had already arrived and had brought along a new friend, a young lady named Sandra. The two met a few weeks prior in summer school. They were both taking an English class at the local university.

Sandra was an extremely attractive woman. It’s odd for me to point that out because until this point, there wasn’t another woman who had caught my eye the way Sandra did. It was as though I had, or Lady had rather, placed an imaginary set of blinders on my eyes. Sandra demanded attention from every man in her presence, yet she was very humble and down to earth. Lady felt like Sandra needed to meet Ricky so I suppose you could say we were all on one big blind date.

The evening went extremely well for all parties involved, and for the next few weeks or so, Sandra became a permanent fixture among our outings. It seemed like we all bonded quite well in the short amount of time, which is why it was surprising to receive the call from Ricky one evening.

“Man, I need to talk to you about something,” Ricky said excitedly. I had heard this excitement before. It was usually followed by some great information about a sexual escapade or a fine young lady he had just met. I listened in eager anticipation, eating my snacks as if I were preparing to watch a film on the big screen.

“Lay it on me man, what’s going on?”

“So Sandra and I have been talking a lot the last week on the phone,” Ricky began.

“I knew you were gonna get that,” I responded. “It was just a matter of time.”

“That’s just it, man. We’ve been talking and she is really feeling YOU,” he told me.

“What?” I coughed, astonished and choking on the Dr. Pepper that I had just took a sip from.

“Yeah, I’m not kidding you. She’s been asking me all about you and she wants to meet up with you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Well I know what I WANTED to say but what came out was, “Are you for real? What about Lady.”

“Sandra says it’s completely your call on that one man. But I know what I would do.”

The whole situation caught me off guard. Lady and Sandra seemed to click really well together. Sure, I had seen Sandra steal a glance in my direction from time to time, but I didn’t think anything of it. I continued to debate the issue with Ricky but it was as though he insisted I carry on a conversation with Sandra at the very least. I finally agreed.

“Cool. I’ll arrange the meeting then,” Ricky said.

“Cool, but what am I going to tell Lady?”

“I got you on that one. Don’t even worry about it.”

Over the next week or so, Sandra and I had a hidden friendship. Nothing disrespectful or out of the ordinary was happening between us, unless you include the fact I was meeting with this woman behind Lady’s back. I wouldn’t allow anything further than that to take place although it didn’t stop her from discussing and pursuing the possibilities.

Mostly we just talked. It was refreshing to talk to a woman who wasn’t Lady for a change. Sandra appeared so interested in getting to know me. Well know me and fuck the hell out of me, as she so eloquently put it. We were young and she spoke her mind, which I admired. I knew it was wrong to have late night conversations with her, but the more we talked, the more the desire grew to want to see her more and more. I would still spend my days with Lady, but before I headed home for the night I would make a detour. The second week is when it all came crashing down on me.

“You are definitely an interesting guy,” Sandra began to tell me one evening. I thanked her and returned the compliment. “Lady is lucky to have a guy as loving and devoted as you. It’s just too bad she doesn’t feel the same way.”

I had never been privy to what occurred the homecoming night we spent at Philip’s. I know whatever it was, it happened and was never questioned by me. I know it started a series of events that would culminate in the destruction of what I thought to be the things everyone respected in a relationship. Trust, loyalty, honesty. I know now, though I hadn’t realized it then, Lady made some type of excuse the following weekend to return to Hampton and to Philip. It was not the trip I was led to believe she was taking.

I only know these things because I was told these things. And it wasn’t because I questioned these things. I know the only things I can control in life are my own actions. I realize now the awkwardness between Lady and me began on that innocent weekend. And to complicate the issue, Lady wasn’t mature enough to admit her faults to me although she found it necessary to share the details of that weekend, and subsequent other encounters between her and Philip, with people she considered to be her friends. These things are what led to her downfall and my own enlightenment.

Sandra informed me of actions and incidents that disgusted me to my core and filled me with all types of emotions I had yet to experience. Lady had violated everything I knew to be near and dear to my heart. And Philip had not only taken my every thing from me, but he continued these sexual excursions behind my back while smiling in my face at the same time.

Heartache. Uncertainty. Regrets. Remorse. Friendship. Loyalty. Trust. My faith and belief in friendships and relationships was now an unanswered question. All of these unfamiliar emotions imploded on my inner soul with the force of a hurricane. And my bearer of bad news stood in front of me, held onto my broken body and cried along side of me.

Chapter 1: The Introduction

noreply@blogger.com (Speechless) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 21:06:00 +0000

I am that guy.

The guy who walks into a crowded room and suddenly, all eyes are on him if only for a moment. I am the same guy who causes a table of four women to giggle in embarrassment. I am the guy who other men are forced to compliment, even though they don’t want to. I am the guy parents warn little girls about. I am the predator who feasts upon the emotions of women, with little or no consideration for the outcome.

Yes, that’s me. I am that guy.

Of course I haven’t always been that guy. I would like to think the inverse of that guy is where I am now. Some may disagree. Maybe I do, too. I’m still trying to find the young innocent little guy who preserved his virginity until the age of 17. Ironically, I would probably still be that younger guy if it wasn’t for that first girl.

It’s amazing how our lives can evolve and revolve around the hearts of others. I mean really, what could cause a man to change his morals and values, to completely ignore any resemblance of emotion in his actions and thought process? What could change a perfectly logical, smart, God-fearing young man into a predator, a cheater and an adulterer?

Well, I will tell you exactly how it could and did happen. I’m inviting you to explore a detailed voyage from the not so very beginning to the not so distant past. Or perhaps this can and will be viewed as an in-depth look into one man’s personal demons. Deception, lust, envy, hate; all of those things some men and probably a few women struggle with in their lives. It’s all here. The real question is not from where I have come but where I will go from here.

I wonder where the inner conflict began. I’ve laid a lot of blame over the years and I realize it is about choice and whether or not I want to continue on this path. Men would die to do some of the things that I have done. Women would kill to experience the things that I have… Well, maybe not kill. But I have seen them come to blows. I’m moving too fast. As I stated before, for now, it’s about that girl.

Ms. Lady.
Lady was, well, still is, an interesting young woman. Growing up, she was confident, bold, and boisterous. Lady was the type of female who was not ashamed to speak her mind or give her opinion about any one thing at any time. She was the first to see in me what I never saw in myself. Back then, in high school, I was a nerdy, shy, quiet 125-pound kid who could never see himself with half of the women I lusted over. What Lady saw was not the little boy that stood before her, but the man I could become.

Lady was not a beauty queen, as family and friends told me on several occasions. She stood about 5’7”, brown-skinned, with glasses. Had I been more concerned with a woman’s appearance, Lady would not have been my girlfriend. She wasn’t the girl you rushed home to meet your parents. She wasn’t the female that some would jump into a relationship with either, which is why I was cautious of becoming involved with her at all. We became really good friends first and then, we became what high-school-aged youth termed girlfriend and boyfriend. Still not sure how that happened, but I didn’t need to understand the how.

Lady took care of me. She spoiled a poor kid with clothes and jewelry I never thought about obtaining on my own. She sheltered me, keeping me as close as possible to her and as far away from others as possible. I know now that it wasn’t a healthy way to carry out a relationship, but back then, I could not have been happier. She became my everything.

I would spend all day with Lady. I would wake up in the mornings and call her. Then, I would drive to school, where we would be with each other practically all day, excluding two or three classes at most. After school, we would meet up and I would take her home and stay there until her father would put me out. I would get home, call her, and fall asleep on the phone talking to her. So when I say everything, I truly mean she was my every thing.

When Lady and I first met, I didn’t like her at all. Honestly, I thought I hated her, defining the term “hate” the way any 15-year-old boy would who disliked a sassy mouth female. But that was Lady. You had to take the good with the bad. We met through a mutual friend, Rick.

Rick was one of my best friends growing up. He was a natural talker and all around friendly guy. As the youngest of my parents’ three sons, I was truly a quiet kid growing up and stayed to myself. I’m not sure if it was a lack of self-confidence or nervousness or what, but outside of talking with my mother I really didn’t speak to many people at all. My mother and I, we were all we had after my father left and my older brothers went their separate ways, so for Rick to be able to crack my outer shell and get me to become vocal was quite a task to say the least.

I would ride home from school every day on the bus, staring out of the window and wondering where each car was headed. I fantasized each vehicle was taking a trip to the store or to the mall. I would think of getting home and watching television. Mostly, my mind just wandered until the one day when my thoughts were interrupted by the cracking voice of a strange kid peaking over the seat in front of me.

“Why do you always sit there so quiet looking out of the window?” he had asked.

“Because,” I responded.

In my mind I was actually wondering two things. The first thing was, “Why you being so nosey, kid. I’m not bothering you.” And secondly, I was trying to find a continuation to the whole “because” line. It was actually a very good question.

“Well you should speak more. My name is Rick. I think we live in the same neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I think we do. I will work on talking more.”

And just like that, I had a new best friend. We became inseparable. I was usually over at his house or him at mine. We grew together through our adolescence and discussed things like losing our virginity. We talked about the normal teenage male things. Well, maybe not normal in today’s day and age. But for the time period when we listened to Bel Biv Devoe’s “Poison” and sung along with LL Cool J’s “I Need Love,” we were on track for that type of thing.

Usually when I got to Rick’s house, I would climb the hill of his driveway and from the outside look through the window of his den. I would speak to his parents if they were in the room and ask if Rick could come out. His family was used to the routine so it struck me a bit odd the day I looked through the window and heard the following reaction.

“Who are you and why are you going around looking in people’s windows?”

The voice startled me because it was one I had never heard before, and it was never really easy to see who was actually on the other side of the window I looked into. My eyes were usually still blinded by the glare of the sun from the one-mile hike to Rick’s house, but in either case, the voice was much too young to rate any level of proper respect.

“Don’t worry about who I am. Who are you?” I responded back trying to get my eyes to adjust at the same time.

“Don’t you worry about who I am,” the voice responded. “I’m not the one looking into people’s windows. Where I’m from, that type of action is frowned upon.”

“Frowned upon? You can’t be serious.”

“You two chill out. I’ll be out in a minute,” Rick chimed in. He already knew both of us well enough to know that the conversation was about to get real interesting, real quick.

“I’m coming out too because I need to find out who you are,” the voice said.

As I headed to the front door a few windows down on my right, Rick made his appearance on the front porch, followed by a slender, female figure dressed as if she were headed to an evening church service. We exchanged pleasantries and angry stares, and I knew from that moment this particular young female and I would never be anything close to friends.

Of course that wasn’t the case. When Lady expressed to Rick shortly after our initial encounter how she was going to become my girlfriend, I wasn’t so eager to go down that path with her at all. To be honest, I wasn’t attracted to her. When she asked me a few months later to “go with her” which was the custom at the time, I told her I thought it would be a good idea for us to wait and get to know each other better. I suggested we should take the next year to decide whether or not we could even stomach each other’s existence, let alone decide if a relationship was in order. She agreed and we began to hang out a bit more and chat occasionally on the phone. We started hanging out more a school during the day and having lunch from time to time. We laughed and joked a lot but never really discussed being together, which made it easier to get to know her. I learned her likes and dislikes. We talked about people we were interested in. Over time, we became really good friends. Seemed like that first year of our friendship went by quick. And suddenly came the first time I allowed myself to be manipulated into relationship I did not want.

I was in a fairly comfortable, new relationship with another female in high school when my year deadline hit. This new girl was a grade below me, but the age didn’t bother me, so I decided to give it a shot. We had been seeing each other for about a month when I ran into a friend of Lady’s after school in the hallway. She pulled me into an empty classroom.

“Why don’t you just tell Lady you’re not interested in her and stop stringing her along?” she had asked.

We went back and forth for more than an hour and when it ended, I actually thought I dismissed the entire conversation. However, the conversation had a resounding affect on me. I began to wonder, was I actually stringing Lady along? We spoke often and she would occasionally buy me things without me asking, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Growing up in a single parent home was tough on my mother and me. I understood I had to make sacrifices in life. I wasn’t afforded a lot of opportunities to buy things. It didn’t bother me at all. I had no intention of trying to impress other people and was quite comfortable going to school in old sneakers, sweatpants and a t-shirt. I didn’t really have a desire or an understanding of being fashionable or trendy.

Lady on the other hand, loved to shop and she worked at the mall. There were many occasions where she would see a shirt, a pair of shoes, or an entire outfit and buy them for me. She would bring me breakfast almost every morning. I knew that anything I wanted from her, I could get, but I neither asked nor took advantage of the fact. At least I don’t believe I ever did.

The unsolicited conversation was the first time I had truly realized Lady was actually patiently waiting on the day that I would say, “I’m yours” so we could live happily ever after. I made a decision. Lady actually deserved a chance with me. She had stood by supportively during one short and unsuccessful relationship, and now I was moving into another relationship without giving her serious consideration. I decided to break off my budding, comfortable journey of youthful exuberance and lust with my younger acquaintance and give Lady what she wanted.

Our union was definitely a learning experience. And though it seemed to focus a lot on what she wanted, I enjoyed growing and learning life together with her. What I sealed our relationship was the night of our senior-year homecoming. It was as awkward as any two virgins losing their virginity could be. It was also the greatest ten minutes of my young life. It was what started me on a spiral to becoming that guy.

The morning after, I awoke with a greater since of pride and honor. I had just completed some great right of passage. I saw Lady in a whole different light, and I felt she viewed me the same way. After that first encounter, there was no stopping us. We couldn’t get enough of each other.

To say we fucked liked rabbits would be the understatement of the century. Lady had the body of a 25-year-old woman at the age of 17, with amazing flexibility. And I had imagination and a desire to discover positions of passion no one had ever considered before. We were both curious and willing to learn more from each other, so fucking became a daily ritual. We crept away during any time of the morning, afternoon or night. Anytime, any place, and any opportunity. In the back seat of cars… the front seat of cars, her house, my house. We fucked many times in both of our parents’ bedrooms. There were a few times we ended up outside in the park. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget center field of my high school baseball field… I was a baseball player for fourteen years so I found that one particularly erotic.

As our relationship continued to evolve, my personal life became lost in her personal life. I no longer had my own life. And I honestly didn’t mind at the time. I thought that was what a relationship was supposed to be about. Lady became the controller of my thought process and actions. I rarely made a move or a decision without her consent. When I wasn’t with her, I wasn’t anywhere. When I hung out with my friends she was there because her friends became my friends and vice versa. She not only planned out my life at the time, she also planned out my future and inserted herself in at all stages, as my future wife and mother of my son and daughter, both of who had names already. I wasn’t even sure I wanted a wife and kids, but Lady was insistent and persistent. And that is pretty much how it was until I got accepted to Hampton University.

Hampton University was the only college I had ever wanted to go to. I didn’t even bother to apply to any other college. I knew in my heart of hearts Hampton was where I would pursue my college education. Fate would make a way for it to happen. It wasn’t an issue of whether I could get in. My grades were above average. I played football and ran track in addition to playing baseball. I also played an active roll in a high school community service organization.

My extracurricular activities and intellect would all assist me in fulfilling my dream. Paying for tuition would be the only obstacle hindering my progress. My mother had faith in my abilities, and in turn, I did everything I could academically to ensure the cost to her would be minimal.

I was accepted to Hampton on a partial scholarship. In hindsight, I probably could have received a full ride had I not fallen asleep while breezing through the universal scale of educational competency known as the SAT. I felt that my 1140 score was more than enough to get me where I needed to go; otherwise I would have attempted the test more than once.

My mother approached me during the latter part of the summer following my high school senior graduation and told me she couldn’t afford to send me to school. I would have to sit out a semester. No big deal. I understood. I knew we were nowhere near well off, and I felt I could work and save up some money so I could take the burden off of her finances. Lady was more than satisfied to hear this because even though she was happy I was accepted, she wasn’t thrilled to have me leave the state without her. This temporary drawback ensured I wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

As we sat in church the Sunday prior to the beginning of the fall semester, I remember praying for my mother and for myself. A simple prayer just to give us the strength we needed to make it through the end of the year. I remember hearing my name called, and I remember my mother’s expression of gratitude on her face. I was in shock and awe and wasn’t really sure how to respond. It was the greatest thing I had ever heard, and I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Lady. The church had decided to pay for my first semester of college as a reward for the work my mother and I had done in all the years we attended.

Lady was excited and hurt at the same time. Her dream was that I would stay at a local school so we could be together. I can only assume it was because of insecurities. All of her actions were designed to keep me away from other people and specifically, other women. But then again, she did wear the token of her love for me on her finger. Yes, I had proposed. I’m not sure why. I was in no rush at all to get married. In fact, Lady had purchased her own ring. I was simply a pawn in the chess game.

I did stay true to her though. My mother ensured I was raised and taught to respect women, and as a result, I placed a lot of value in our relationship. I never violated her trust in me and never had a desire to, even during the semester we were separated.

I definitely had the opportunity. There was a female I met my first week at Hampton who I spent a lot of spare time with. We became really good friends; yet, as attractive as she was, I could never bring myself to cheat on my fiancée. It just was not my style. My friend and I would spend countless evenings together looking at the ocean just off the coast of the dormitories and I would run my mouth about how much I missed Lady while she patiently listened.

The following semester, Lady followed me out of state and attended Norfolk State University. It was not that she desired to attend that school by any means. Her plan, which worked out in the end, was to bring me home. She spent the entire semester convincing me I was becoming a burden on my mother and it would be a lot less expensive to attend a school in our home state. She chose the city and the school and after a year of attendance, I was leaving the school of my dreams for her.

What Lady wanted, Lady got. So, home we came and though I wasn’t thrilled to be at my new location, I was now convinced that it was the best thing for me. Looking back now, it was really getting out of hand, the person I was becoming. I had no direction of my own. This woman was clouding my decisions more and more. She had molded me into the man she wanted me to be. From the way I dressed to the things I decided to do with my life. She controlled whom I talked to and how. She had a role in every decision I made. Perhaps, it was best that we experienced the tragedy of the following year.