May 24, 2009 at 7:16 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , )




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May 24, 2009 at 2:34 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , )

imagesI have officially locked my jaws up.  I will no longer be handing out free party favors by sucking dick.  I have been violating my mouth for too long and it is just a dirty crime.  Do you actually think that you are worthy of my mouth on your sweaty ass balls?

“You First” is my new policy.  You do me first and I will do you, other than that…


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May 21, 2009 at 7:11 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

imagesThere were more men than women that worked with me on the job.  I had never worked around so many men before.  My mind was starting to play tricks on me.  There were at least five guys on the job I wanted to do.  I found it hard to work around all these men.  I mean who wanted to be known for doing the whole team?  I quickly put my hand in the air.  I was down for the challenge.  That changed after I met this guy I like to call minute-man.  We worked on a dirt slope together somewhere in Washington Heights, helping each other pass bags up the hill.  We joked around with each other about being exhausted and he told me, “I have a lot of stamina”.  “Oh, really”, I said.  “So, you not a one minute brotha then?”  He started laughing, showing off the big teeth, I had always had a weakness for.  We spent the rest of the day working and flirting with each other.  By the end of our conversation, I knew I wanted to fuck him.  He could definitely get it.  My curiosity about us having sex had gotten the best of me.  I can’t remember how we hooked up finally, but we started spending time with each other after work hours.  We had good energy with each other, but it never would last that long.  As soon as he got in, he got out.  I practiced my kegel exercises on him; gripping the muscles inside real tight as if stopping myself from peeing. I don’t know if this was making him cum so fast or what.
He was a pot head just like me.  The most interesting thing about him was that we would smoke a blunt together while having sex.  It became a game of who could keep the blunt lit, puff after puff, hand-to-hand.  It was easy for me to do, it wasn’t like he was eating me out or we were going for hours upon hours.  There were even times when the blunt would outdo us both.  After our little 2-minutes of action, the blunt would still be lit.  Imagine that, the blunt got more action that me.  At least the blunt got a taste of his mouth embracing on it as he took his puffs.  This is the reason for his nickname, “minute-man.”  I was a little pissed that he had lied to me.  I could sense that he was a one minute man from the jump and I ignored my female intuition.

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Size Does Matter

May 7, 2009 at 3:05 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

images1It seems like everything bad happens in threes, at least that is what they say about death.  I figured since they both started with a ‘D’ maybe there was some similarities in it.  I met small dick number three in Chicago during 2001.
I met him at a New Year’s Eve party at an Ethiopian Restaurant in Chicago.  I use to see this brotha around a lot around Ethiopian restaurants, but I never talked to him.  I was married at the time. He was short and thin, about 5’4 give or take.  He had big eyes, fine black hair and keen features.  His name was Haile.  He had a sister that was a Supermodel back in New York.  They looked exactly alike.  He was a musician.  He struck up a conversation with me after our long smiles with each other, since I was too shy to say anything.  From that point on, we talked and danced the whole night together until the night had ended.  We exchanged numbers and I went back to New York.  For eight months we talked to each other on the phone and whenever I came to Chicago we would link up and go out.  We really enjoyed each other’s company.  He made me feel like a young, schoolgirl again.  He was the perfect gentlemen when it came to paying for dates, opening up car doors and dishing out compliments.  Chivalry wasn’t dead with him.  I enjoyed his company a lot, but I had to incorporate sex into it somehow out of curiosity.  I mean after eight months, I got to thinking…  I was working on my documentary and searching for questions to ask the women I wanted to interview on sex.  He came up with, “What is the relationship between sex and God?”  I decided to use the question, but now it put the focus on sex and us.  Here we were talking about sex, bliss, orgasms and the likes.  I started pondering the possibilities with him.  In my mind he had to be good, passionate, and gentle.  I built up the whole sexual experience in my mind.  We decided to hook up the next time I came into town.
“It would be nice to experiment with you”, he told me.
We decided to rent a hotel.  I had on a stunning outfit that resembled a long shirt.  It was a green, blue and white, stripped dress that buttoned down in the front and hugged every inch of my body.  I knew it was banging by the car honks I got as I walked to his apartment from my car.  The wind was blowing in my face as if it was kissing me.  We ate Thai food and complimented each other.  I could feel my knees knocking under the table as the end was closing near.  When we got inside the hotel room the sun was just beginning to set, sending a yellowish orange tone in the room.  It looked like a typical hotel room.  Nothing fancy.  The carpet was brown, the walls were white and there was a queen-sized bed against the wall.  We stood in the middle of the floor and looked into each other’s eyes.  We started to gently touch each other’s bodies.  I grabbed the back of his head with one hand, while my other hand followed the outline of his body.  I felt his hand grab my bootie and then trail up to my breast.  I unbuttoned my dress and opened it up.  His eyes grew big like a hungry fox ready to attack me.  His shirt was off, baring the hair that encompassed his chest.  It was nice and smooth.  He left his boxer shorts on as we stood there in our underwear.  We led each other to the bed and laid down on it.  He turned the TV on.  The only thing on was porn.  He turned the volume down low.  He turned me over on the side.  I was facing the wall.  I could hear the sound of his boxers going across his skin as he took them off.  He unlatched the back of my bra.  I eased off my panties.  He put a condom on.  I couldn’t see the size or width of manhood.  I just went with the flow knowing that it would be good from the conversations we had previously.
I felt him moving back and forth as he held onto my left hip, but I couldn’t feel anything.  I didn’t know if he was inside of me or not.  From the movements he made and the sound effects of occasional “ugh” I assumed he was getting off.  There was no kissing, no hugging, no nothing.  I have always been a passionate person and kissing is my thing.  Usually that alone will make me cum if it is long, wet and sensuous.  I wasn’t in the mood to fake an orgasm.  I was silent, praying that it would soon be over.  I felt like a two dolla hoe.  About five minutes passed and he was yelping.  His body stopped moving.  Then I could hear a small, soft voice invade the room.
“Did you cum?”
There I was stranded with the moment of reality and illusion.  I went with reality.

“No”, I said.  The silence set again.  We got dressed and went back to our homes.  The next day, I went underground.  There were no more phone calls or even answering the phone.  I let the curiosity of it kill my cat once again.  This saddened me because I really enjoyed his company.  I wish we wouldn’t have had sex.  It was better that way.  I was contempt with his companionship.  I wanted my card revoked…

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May 4, 2009 at 2:30 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , )

accused craigslist killer

accused craigslist killer

…By the end of the conversation I had confessed to him about my curiosity of being with a woman.  He suggested that I post an ad on NudeAfrica and Craigslist so that I could experiment with a woman.  The thought at first scared me. I didn’t know how to even go about looking for a woman.  I wanted to remain discreet.  It was hard enough getting a fucking man in New York, let alone a woman.  I decided to take his advice and post an ad on both sites.
“Bi-curious black woman looking for a black woman to have my first encounter with.”
I got a lot of hits from both sites.   A female emailed me a picture of her.  She had short, brown hair, brown skin and a nice shape.  I agreed to meet up with her.  I gave out my Hotmail and AOL email address and responded to several messages with her.
My friend came over that day not realizing that I had company coming over.  They ended up running into each other.  She called me saying she wanted to borrow my suitcase.  Right when she rung the doorbell to pick it up, I was trying to take a quick shower.  I had to let her in and I was running around trying to throw on some clothes.  From that she started being inquisitive.
“Where you going?  Uh, oh, you got a hot date?”
She was going in with 21 questions.  Before I could say a word, the doorbell rung.  It was the girl. What seemed like small talk turned into about ten minutes.  I was trying to give my hair down there a shape up and freshen up but it was hard with her over.  I refused to tell her, thinking that I would freak her out by telling her a woman was coming over and we were gonna eat each other out.  I told her I had a date and that is when the damn doorbell rang.
It was her at my door.  She didn’t look anything like the pictures.  It was someone completely different.  My eyes bugged out a little, but not to the point of her knowing.  I had the wrong girl.
She came in and my friend felt the signal in a way to leave.  We watched some TV.  She started to scoot over towards me more and more.  I could now feel her thigh pressing against mine.
“Are you Bi curious or a lesbian?”
“I am Curious.”

“I’m Lesbian.”
She moved her head towards mind and we started kissing on the lips.  I cupped my hands around her breast, caressing them in my hands.  We started rhythmically grinding on each other.  I unbuttoned her pants and proceeded to pull them down.  We started touching each other’s clits, rubbing it gently with each other’s fingertips.  I could feel my heartbeat out of control.  I took it upon myself to go down on her first.  I could smell her pussy.  She had a strong scent.  I figured I have seen enough porn movies to know how to eat pussy.  I stared dipping my tongue into the folds of her pussy and rolling my tongue around her clit, moving it fast and slow up the shaft.  She started moaning.  I spit on it, adding more lubrication to it and then started eating her again.  Her body started quivering and then she started holding me tighter.

On the second round of eating her out, I almost threw up.  I could feel the smell of pussy corroding the inside lining of my nose as I flicked my tongue back and forth on her clit.  I wasn’t sure pussy was supposed to smell like that.  It didn’t smell of fish, but more like must.  Like she hadn’t showered before she came.  I could taste a full day’s of work resting inside her panties on her pussy.

After that she wanted to stay over a little while longer and grind on each other.  I didn’t like the sound or feel of pussy humping.  I just wasn’t feeling it.  It was unnecessary to pretend we had dicks when we didn’t.  She emailed me a few times after that wanting to come over and play with toys. The fact that I had already fucked her, she didn’t interest me anymore. Also, I never really got into my dildo, let alone moving up to strap on levels.  If I wanted dick, it was a phone call away.  To be honest, I didn’t even know the girl’s name.  I now know what it feels like to use a body and not feel anything for it.  As wrong as I felt inside, it felt a little empowering.

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January 6, 2009 at 4:07 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , )

images1 I answered an ad in ‘Loot’ newspaper for a role playing job.  I thought this would be a perfect time to pursue my interest in acting.  The ad was very brief, it just gave a little information, saying in headline, ‘Role Play’ in big, bold, black letters, followed by, ‘recording a demo tape, need actors for role play, pays $50 bucks.  I was a little short on cash, so I called the number.  A white man answered the phone.  His voice was a little shaky like he was nervous.  He asked me, “Would you be comfortable playing a school girl?”  I replied, “yes.”  He gave me a run down of the job, saying, “I have a recording studio.  We will be recording this.  You just have to act like you were caught cheating on a test and called into the principal’s office.  The end result is a spanking.”  I paused for a minute and honestly didn’t know what to think.  I was a little naive.  I agreed to go anyway out of curiosity.

He lived in Manhattan near 14th Street and 8th Avenue.  After I buzzed his bell, he came downstairs to meet me.  I had my starbucks, Caramel Mocchiato in hand and followed him upstairs to the third floor.  He was a nerdy looking white guy.  He stood about 5’7, with black hair that cupped in front of his right eyebrow.  The rest of his hair was tapered to his neck.  There was nothing unusual about his face that I can remember.  I could tell that he was a curious freak who happened to put an ad in the paper to see how far he could go.  He had on some jeans and a white shirt that was unbuttoned from the neck about three buttons down, showing of his ‘ape-like’ chest hairs.  I felt the butterflies playing together in my stomach.  I was praying that this man wasn’t a serial killer.

He led me to the back of his apartment, where in a room, four microphones was set up and a recording studio.  He said, “this is where the recording will take place.”  He walked out of the room, “this is where we will role play”, he said while leading me into another room.  This room was obviously his bedroom.  There was a Queen sized bed resting up against the wall.  Next to the bed was a small pile of raw plywood on the floor.  It looked like he had plans for a fireplace, but there was no fireplace.  He could tell I was nervous by the way my eyes was skirting around the room.

“don’t be nervous, sit on the bed.”  I sat on the bed.

“Now, this is how it is going to go.  I am going to call you into the principal’s office for being caught cheating on a test.  This is a catholic school, so you have on the short skirt.  When you get to the principal’s office, you will start crying, pleading to me, “Please, don’t call my parents.”  I will then make a deal with you.  You can either take the phone call to your parents or a traditional spanking with my hand.  You will take your pants down and I will spank you with my hand.  I will count to twenty five.  Stop and then repeat it again.”

I wanted to run out of there, instead I agreed to it.  The butterflies in my stomach were no longer playing politely together.  They were fighting.  He looked at me, “Are you ready.”  I shook my head.  The role playing started.
He had me stand outside the door.  “Tasha, report to the principals office, please,” he said as he acted like he was speaking over an intercom.  I opened up the door.  He was sitting in a black, swivel chair, with black glasses on, shaking his head.  “You did a horrible thing, Tasha.  We are a respectable school and we cannot have our students cheating on tests,” he said.  “No, please don’t tell my parents.  Let’s work it out, just please don’t call them,” I pleaded.  “OK.  Pull up your skirt and I will give you twenty-five hits on your butt.  I won’t call your parents,” he said.  “Okay”, I said, as I pulled down my pants.  He walked me over to the bed.  “Lay down on your stomach over my lap,” he said.  There I was bare, butt naked with my ass straight in the air.  I could feel the wind from the open window graze my butt and tickle into my inner thigh as his breath grew harder.  “Okay, I am going to hit you twenty five times on your butt.  Are you ready”, he said.  I shook my head as I held my breath.  I kept thinking about the end result of it being over.  Then it started.  “One,” he said as his hand crashed down onto my right butt cheek.  It was stinging.  “Two”…  His hand crashed down again on the same butt cheek.  I wanted to cry.  I could feel the blood rise to the top of my butt.  “Three”…  “BAM”, the hand pounded on my right cheek again.  “Four, five, six…”…  It was taking forever for him to get to twenty-five.  By twenty, I was skirmish.  My body started wiggling like a little worm.  He stared rubbing, my butt.  “Are you okay?”, he said.  I could feel the tears falling out my eyes.  I wasn’t okay, I just wanted him to finish.  “Five more.  We are almost done”, he said.  “Twenty-one…”  We were finally at twenty-five.  I really felt like, ‘my ass was on fire.’   “Lie on the bed.  Let me put some cream on you.  I should make you feel better,” he said.  He picked up a navy blue bottle of Nivea cream and started rubbing it on his hands.  I could feel his cold, creamy hands, rub up and down on my butt.  He grazed my butt with the cream over both butt checks.  His hands followed the trail leading to my ‘dream hole’.  He touched down to the perineum.  I started wiggling.  He said, “Do you want me to touch you down there?”  “No”, I said.         He put the bottle of Nivea back on the table.  He grabbed me underneath my waist, “Put your ass in the air”, he said.  I put my head on the pillow and raised up my waist.  My ass was now saluting to the ceiling.  “That’s it”, he said.  He disappeared out of the room for awhile and then returned with a camera.  I heard the camera clicking.  The camera flashed.  He told me, “Spread your legs a little.”  I opened my legs about an inch.  I could feel my lips open up.  He bent over closer to my butt for a close up picture and snapped the camera.  I felt like Sarah Baartman on exhibit; dirty and exploited.
This went on for about five more minutes.  He told me that this was for his book.  “Your face will not be shown, just your butt”, he said.  Just when I thought it was over, he told me, “Now we are going to change roles.  You are the principal now.”  My eyes bulged out in shock.  “Pick a piece of plywood from that pile over there”, he said as he pointed to the pile of raw plywood on the side of his bed.  I walked over to it, picking up the largest piece.  We didn’t do any role-play for him.  He just layed on the bed, stomach down and went to town on him, twenty-five times.  He had gross little, red bumps all over his butt.  Every time, I hit him with the piece of plywood, I thought one of them suckers was going to bust.  With each swing to his backside, I thought about my ancestors being hit by the slave masters and I hit him even harder.  I could feel him flinch up each time I counted.  It was finally over.  “Get the cream over on the table”, he told me.  I grabbed the navy bottle of Nivea cream and covered my hands with it.  I delicately touched his butt, scared of the bumps.  I wanted it to be over so bad.  I rubbed it over his butt.  “Did you cover the area?” he asked.  “Yep.”  I started putting on my pants.  I didn’t want his ass to get any ideas for nothing else.  I had earned my $50 bucks by blood, sweat and tears literally.  Once I had my pants on, he put his on.  “I need to go to the bank”, he said.  We walked to the door.  My now cold, caramel macchioto’ was waiting for me on the table near the door.  I grabbed it and immediately took a large swig, thinking it would wash out the nasty taste this experience left in my mouth.  We walked out the door, three storefronts down, to a bank.  Walking with him, I started to blank it out of my head, just like I did when I was rapped.  I collected the money and washed it out of my memory bank.  This was my first experience into the world of “SEX”.

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December 16, 2008 at 2:23 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

images1I remember at about eight years old, I experimented with a girl.  She was the neighbor’s granddaughter.  She didn’t come over much, just on the weekends.  It was like she had fire in her hair.  Her brown mocha toned skin matched her hair color. In school I remembered her being popular and a lot of guys liking her because of her long hair.  She had the texture of permed hair or of one who’s grandmother spent all Saturday night pressing it for church on Sunday.
One afternoon we ended up in the bathroom together.  She grabbed me by the hand, leading me up a short staircase that dropped up by the bathroom.  I was standing by the door that dropped us by the bathroom.  The door flung open.  She looked both ways, making sure the coast was clear and then started to wave me in.  When I got in there, she said, “lay down”.
The bathroom was painted baby blue.  I layed on the cold, bathroom floor, she climbed on top of me.  She started kissing me.  I was frozen.  We took off our clothes.  Our barely developed bodies, pressed up against each other as we stared into each other’s eyes with fear.  A few seconds went by and I pushed her off.  Her body crashed to the floor.  We both quickly got up and put our clothes on.  It was a matter of time anyway before her grandmother would probably come and kick it in.  From then I had a little crush on her.  I never thought of it as being bisexual” or a ‘lesbian’, I just was attracted to her.  There was no word for it.

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November 17, 2008 at 7:00 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

images-2 I ordered an aphrodisiac called, Montezuma’s secret from a book that specialized in medicinal plant medicines and herbs. It is a nasty chocolaty drink made of trees and bark that was drunk by an Aztec Emperor. My boyfriend and I, at the time, experimented with it after it came in the mail. I was about 20 at the time, still living at home with my mama. Thank God she was at work. We were in the laundry room as I sat on the dryer sipping the tea. I boiled the pot, poured it over the herbs, let it sit, and strained it. It was bitter and nasty. We forced it down our throats like it was corn liquor. The effects didn’t come fast enough. We waited and waited. Then I felt a surge of energy embellish my groin area. We started fondling each other. I don’t know if it was the secret of Montezuma or the thought of it working, but something came over the both of us. I leaned, he dipped and we put a whole new name to drying clothes. WINK-WINK

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Online Booty Call

November 14, 2008 at 8:16 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

images …When we entered the building, it was a white hallway with a busy green fluorescent light flashing like a firefly.  A security guard behind the desk was talking on the phone in Spanish.  He looked up at him and then darted his eyes towards me and buzzed us in.  I read the sign, “ALL VISITORS MUST SIGN IN” but I kept on walking.  We walked to the elevator.  The elevator was already on the first floor.  I noticed some cigarette butts on the floor in the corner with a brown paper bag.  It smelled of piss and shit.  We got off on the sixth floor and walked down the hallway.  The hallways were painted beige with brown trimming.  The floors blended with the walls.  There was a big reef plastered on the wall between his apartment and the one across.  I guess they were showing their early Christmas spirit.  We came up to his door.  It was slightly open.  He pushed it open.  A thin, light skinned, older woman emerged from the back.  It was his mother.  This Negro lived at home with his moms.  I sent out a slight chuckle to myself, thinking, “this is the icing on the cake.”  He introduced me to his mother.  I smiled at her and said, “Hi, you doing” and followed him to his room off to the side.  She said, “your auntie is here visiting from out of town, so don’t make a lot of noise.”  I followed him back into his small cubbyhole of a room as Masonic plaques and fraternity spank boards swallowed up the room.  A Nike sneaker display of all colors; purple and white, yellow and white, gold, white and many more were sectioned off in the room.  He had a queen size bed smacked dead in the middle of the room with a loveseat next to it.  A TV stood right in front of the bed showing off his black porn collection from Black Nipples to Black hot mamas.  This was his room, his apartment that he spoke of.

The negro lived at home with his mother at 34.  We chilled and watched a movie together and then he took me home.  I wasn’t attracted to him at all, but even if I was, I knew nothing was going to go down, especially with auntie visiting from out of town…

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Indoctrinated Into Swinging

November 13, 2008 at 3:10 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

images2When we got near the party, he could see that I was shaking in my skin.  He said, “Don’t worry.  It is going to be okay.”  I looked at him, saying, “okay”.  I felt that I could trust him.  They checked us off at the door to make sure we were on the list before letting us inside.  We had made up catchy names for ourselves that wouldn’t breach our real identity.  We rehearsed them in the car before going in.  I was Desire and he was Cane.  I called him my Big Daddy Cane.  Inside the door was a vestibule with a small table backed to the wall.  There were magazines spread out on the table.  To the right of it was a bathroom.  After checking us in, the host of the party introduced himself to us and gave us a tour of the place.  By mistake when reaching my hand out to meet his, I blurted out my real name.  Curtis looked at me in shock.  I slipped up.  He went along with Cane still.  He walked us into the living room.  It was pretty much open space, except for a coach sitting at the far end of the room.  In front a TV was playing porno films.  The volume was turned down low.  He walked us up a flight of stairs, showing us two bedrooms adjacent to each other, a bathroom and an outside area.  I held on tightly to Curtis hand.  We ended up downstairs after the tour, sitting on the couch.  A man came over to us to introduce us and upon reaching out his hand, Curtis blurted out his real name by mistake.  I started laughing hysterically like a hyena.  The man couldn’t understand why, but Curtis knew.  We had both blew our cover for the most part by getting too comfortable.   

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