Dreams of grandeur
Those things money can't afford
Price tags are figments of the imagination...
For a Dreamer.
Dreams of grandeur like
Black umbrellas sprinkled in diamonds,
So even when it rains I shine.
Dreams of grandeur
Blocking out the fields of broken glass;
The liquor pouring from my people's pores.
And like the sun fading out the darkness,
Fading out my own darkness,
A black man walking on the path of light.
Dreams of grandeur
Imaging my raman noodles
Are actually bowls of caviar
Sipping Kool-Aid,
Pinky up, like it's rose'.
Septa Buses with pad and leather inside
When I ride.
Dreams of grandeur
When you're salary
Can't make your dreams a reality
Featuring my Poetry, Short Stories, Prose, Music reviews, My thoughts and my opinions of the world. Discussions are welcome!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
#Eli's Top 10 Songs To Play In The Bedroom
Sex is very important to life, without it there could be no life. Going through the daily grind, rather it is working a nine to five, or studying for a degree can be stressful. Sex is something that eases stress and can make you forget why you were so stressed out in the first place. So in this week #Eli's Top 10 I will list off my top 10 favorite tracks from my own personal sex playlist.
10. Marques Houston "Naked"
10. Marques Houston "Naked"
9. R.Kelly "Half On A Baby"
8. Marsha Ambrousis " Late Night Early Mornings
7. Raheem DeVaughn "Marathon"
6. Aaliyah "Come Over"
5. Janet Jackson "Warmth"
4. The Isley Brothers " Between The Sheets"
3. Jodeci " Freek N You"
2. Jamie Foxx " Slow"
1. Usher " Can You Handle It"
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Time Are Changing ( Also posted on http://dubltrubl.blogspot.com check us out!)
Generations are like seasons. This is true because generations and seasons are never like their predecessors. Last winter the weather was icy and snowy, the streets were covered in a baby powder colored mist, and I loved it because morning classes were always getting cancelled, meaning I could get a few more hours of sleep.
This winter, however, had a streak of days that felt more like spring than winter. With all of the 60 degree days in December I contemplated not buying a winter coat for the first time in ages.
Just like there are gaps in the temperament of the winter seasons there are gaps between generations. In older generations men were the breadwinners in the family nucleus, single parent households were frowned upon and women tended to be career mothers and housekeepers. In today's world women own their houses, make their own money and are arguably more career orientated than most men. Single parent households are the norm, personally, I only have one friend that lives with both his father and mother. I, as well as many of my other peers, live with a single mother and have loose connection with our fathers.
In the past women were groomed to be "womanly." Nowadays it is not unusual to know females with a traditionally "male" way of thinking. Women are more independent than ever and even pride themselves on their ability to do great in life without a man. Traditionally it was a custom for men to court females: ask their fathers for permission to take the woman he desired on a date, hold the door for her, and behave in a chivarlous manner toward her. It seems the roles have been reversed now though, or rather, they've been evened out over the years. It is now not uncommon for a woman to tenaciously approach the man she wants, and in a way court him.
What do you feel is the cause of these changes? Is it women taking control of their destinies or is it men not stepping up to the plate? As a women would you ever consider proposing to the man you love instead of waiting for him to ask your hand in marriage? Discussions are encouraged. Feel free to speak your mind respectfully, but please, keep all topic discussions in the comment box below. Thanks and be sure to follow the blog!
-Egleaves
This winter, however, had a streak of days that felt more like spring than winter. With all of the 60 degree days in December I contemplated not buying a winter coat for the first time in ages.
Just like there are gaps in the temperament of the winter seasons there are gaps between generations. In older generations men were the breadwinners in the family nucleus, single parent households were frowned upon and women tended to be career mothers and housekeepers. In today's world women own their houses, make their own money and are arguably more career orientated than most men. Single parent households are the norm, personally, I only have one friend that lives with both his father and mother. I, as well as many of my other peers, live with a single mother and have loose connection with our fathers.
In the past women were groomed to be "womanly." Nowadays it is not unusual to know females with a traditionally "male" way of thinking. Women are more independent than ever and even pride themselves on their ability to do great in life without a man. Traditionally it was a custom for men to court females: ask their fathers for permission to take the woman he desired on a date, hold the door for her, and behave in a chivarlous manner toward her. It seems the roles have been reversed now though, or rather, they've been evened out over the years. It is now not uncommon for a woman to tenaciously approach the man she wants, and in a way court him.
What do you feel is the cause of these changes? Is it women taking control of their destinies or is it men not stepping up to the plate? As a women would you ever consider proposing to the man you love instead of waiting for him to ask your hand in marriage? Discussions are encouraged. Feel free to speak your mind respectfully, but please, keep all topic discussions in the comment box below. Thanks and be sure to follow the blog!
-Egleaves
From My Side Of The TV
I watch you from a distance. I can tell that the cold bothers you by the way you adjust your jacket, pulling it closer around your shoulders and bringing your chin into your chest, attempting to hide your face from winter’s fingertips. You remind me of someone struggling with a blanket that doesn’t cover their toes- no matter how hard they try their efforts come up short (pun intended). I flirt with the idea of giving you my scarf, or lending you my gloves, or maybe my hat so that at least your ears are warm. I figure warmth is a fair trade for a second of your time. I’ll give your protection from the cold, and in return, you give me your name or some other bridge that can link our separate worlds. Before I make up my mind to approach you, a group of your friends turn the corner and surround you. I hear the tall girl with the model build from across the street. She says, “Tammy you look so cold! Here take my gloves.” I see you reach out and grab them out of the tall girl’s hands. I imagine your teeth chattering relentlessly as you try to mouth the words, “Thank You.”
Part of me is happy that you found warmth in the cold, but I can not deny the other part of me that wishes your tall skinny friend stayed in whatever hole she crawled out of. I think to myself that nothing has really changed . You’re still on the corner waiting for your bus, only now there are three other girls waiting alongside you. But there is something daunting about approaching a group of strangers no matter how pure your intentions. Even if I come to you with the hope of meeting someone new, to begin the process of building a foundation of friendship, the awkwardness of being scrutinized by those who claim to know you is overpowering. The saying, “There is strength in numbers” is completely true, especially when dealing with a group of girls who couldn’t distinguish you from any other statistic from the US Census Bureau. Suddenly I hear a low screeching noise. The 60 pulls up at the corner, you and your friends pay your bus fare as you board. Just like that my chance to find happiness rode off on public transportation, sitting comfortably in warmed seats, surrounded by friends and inside jokes, and safe from the lustful gaze of a stranger hoping to find companionship in the girl at the bus stop.
In a split second you became like one of those stars on the other side of the TV screen. From my point of view you’re eye catching like a burgundy dress in a funeral procession, or a diamond ring glistening in the moonlight. From your point of view I’m shrouded in darkness; hidden behind a wall of oblivion and radio signals. I reside in a dimension outside the reach of your perception, I am the blind spot in your peripheral vision, unknown because unseen, and a cause for caution on your part. Tomorrow while I wait the bus to take me home I’ll look for you. I’ll gaze on my end of the screen and marvel at your design unseen, after all, you can’t see me from your side of the TV.
Part of me is happy that you found warmth in the cold, but I can not deny the other part of me that wishes your tall skinny friend stayed in whatever hole she crawled out of. I think to myself that nothing has really changed . You’re still on the corner waiting for your bus, only now there are three other girls waiting alongside you. But there is something daunting about approaching a group of strangers no matter how pure your intentions. Even if I come to you with the hope of meeting someone new, to begin the process of building a foundation of friendship, the awkwardness of being scrutinized by those who claim to know you is overpowering. The saying, “There is strength in numbers” is completely true, especially when dealing with a group of girls who couldn’t distinguish you from any other statistic from the US Census Bureau. Suddenly I hear a low screeching noise. The 60 pulls up at the corner, you and your friends pay your bus fare as you board. Just like that my chance to find happiness rode off on public transportation, sitting comfortably in warmed seats, surrounded by friends and inside jokes, and safe from the lustful gaze of a stranger hoping to find companionship in the girl at the bus stop.
In a split second you became like one of those stars on the other side of the TV screen. From my point of view you’re eye catching like a burgundy dress in a funeral procession, or a diamond ring glistening in the moonlight. From your point of view I’m shrouded in darkness; hidden behind a wall of oblivion and radio signals. I reside in a dimension outside the reach of your perception, I am the blind spot in your peripheral vision, unknown because unseen, and a cause for caution on your part. Tomorrow while I wait the bus to take me home I’ll look for you. I’ll gaze on my end of the screen and marvel at your design unseen, after all, you can’t see me from your side of the TV.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
#Eli's Top 10 R&B/Soul Albums
Music is a topic that I love discussing among friends. Music is so important in our culture and livelihood, it is impossible to quantify the effect that music has on our childhood, our feelings, and our general experience on Earth. When asked what's my favorite genre of music I've always been quick to answer that it's 90's R&B and Neo-Soul. The reasons why I love the R&B genre so much is because we are truly living in a generation that is afraid of love, and the music allows us to live (in love) vicariously through it. Think about it, how many times have you found yourself wishing to be able to sing like Maxwell in order to make the girl you've crushed on fall for you? How many times have you been unable to put your feelings in words just to turn on your Ipod and have Lauryn Hill sing your life with her song? So in honor of R&B/Soul music this #Eli's top 10 will be dedicated to my personal favorite R&B albums.
- 10. Amerie- All I Have
Amerie's debut album is not perfect, in fact, it's far from it. Amerie can't exactly belt out notes like Jill Scott but she stays in her range and makes up for not having the biggest voices by staying within herself. She's also absolutely gorgeous and comes off as the type of girl you'd want to have a summer fling with. The album's single " Why Don't We Fall In Love" is a classic summer time love song.
Key Tracks: "Why Don't We Fall In Love" "Talking To Me"
- 9. Miguel- All I Want Is You
Key Tracks: " Sure Thing" "Quickie" " Vixen" "Girls Like You"
- 8. Donell Jones- Where I Wanna Be
Donell Jones takes the eight spot with his classic album Where I Wanna Be. The album is just incredibly smooth, this is the kind of album that you play while cruising through the city looking fly and sophisticated. Donell Jones is extremely underrated as a singer and songwriter, after listening to Where I Wanna Be in its entirety, it's hard to understand how someone this good is still underrated.
Key Tracks: " Where I Wanna Be" " U Know What's Up" "Have You Seen Her"
- 7. Robin Thicke- The Evolution of Robin Thicke
Robin Thicke has the smoothest falsetto anywhere this side of the milky way, and with his amazing falsetto he crafts one of the best albums R&B albums of the decade. Not only does Thicke tackle those difficult relationship issues, he also sings about race and how the world needs love for it to continue spinning. I know that sounds a bit hippy-ish but Pharrell handles some of the production so it all evens out.
Key Tracks: "Teach U A Lesson" " Can U Believe" " Wanna Love U Girl" " Lost Without U"
- 6. Jill Scott- The Real Thing: Words and Sounds Vol. 3
Jill Scott has the innate ability to combine poetry and song. She's very capable in both art forms and she seamlessly combines the two art forms in Words and Sounds Vol. 3. At times she's like a one person Floetry, but at the same time she can combine Blues and Jazz to her sound. The Real Thing: Words and Sounds Vol. 3. shows off all of Jill Scotts skills.
Key Tracks: "Hate On Me" " Crown Royal" " All I "
- 5. Erykah Badu- Baduizm
Erykah Badu is the Andre 3000 of R&B. There was no surprise when those two developed a relationship. As quirky as she is she has the talent to back it up, and Baduizm is arguably one of the best female R&B albums to come out in the past 15 years. The sound is completely Neo-Soul and it is an utter classic.
Key Tracks: " Next Lifetime" "The Other Side of Game" "On & On"
- 4. Lauryn Hill- The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is deemed by many to be the best females R&B album of all time. The high praise of the album is most certainly warranted; Lauryn Hill is not only one of the time best songwriters but one of the most skilled female rappers to ever grace a mic. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is a beautiful blend of amazing songwriting and lyrical wit. It does not matter if Hill is singing a tribute to her son or knocking young men and girls over the head with knowledge, this album is certified classic.
Key Tracks: "Nothing Even Matters" " Ex-factor" " Final Hour" "Lost Ones"
- 3. R.Kelly- Chocolate Factory
R.Kelly is R&B there's no other way to even spell the genre without the R. His career is unparalleled and any Trey Songz references on this post will be deleted. Chocolate Factory showcases why R.Kelly is the greatest singer songwriter of our generation: he writes songs that make us want to two step, he writes songs that make us want to make love, and he writes songs that uplift us when times get a bit rougher than usual. Chocolate Factory incorporates everything you want in an album. You just put the keys in the Ignition and go.
Key Tracks: "Ignition" "Step In The Name of Love" " The World's Greatest"
- 2. Usher- Confessions
Confessions is the best R&B album to come out in the past 10 years male or female. From top to bottom this album feature some of the best music of our generation. You can hear this album today, just as frequently, as you would 8 years ago when it was released. Confessions is how an R&B album is supposed to be done.
Key Tracks: "Confessions prt II" " Bad Girl" " Yeah!" " That's What It's Made For" " Caught Up"
- 1. D'Angelo- Brown Sugar
Brown Sugar is the best neo-soul album of all time regardless of gender. This album ushered in a the Neo-Soul movement and set the watermark for all R&B albums to come before it. Consider Brown Sugar to be R&B's Illmatic. Musically it's the best sounding album on the list, D'Angelo sounds like a modern day Marvin Gaye at points. Brown Sugar takes the number 1 spot on #Eli's Top 10.
Key Tracks : "Lady" " Brown Sugar"
Key Tracks : "Lady" " Brown Sugar"
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Thick Girls: Who fits the description Who's fraudulent?
Everyone that knows me is well aware that I am a functioning insomniac. I am the definition of a night owl, most nights I don't fall asleep until 4 am.(At the earliest) Last night was no different, myself and one of my insomniac comrades were up late discussing the two fields that every black male considers himself to be an expert in: The NBA and women.
The basketball talk lasted long than I had wanted it to; anyone who considers Blake Griffin to be the new Hakeem Olajuwon needs to watch ESPN Classic or something. As the basketball talk began to die down my associate asked me, "How are the ladies treating you?" I told him that girls were not treating me any different really. I also said that they weren't any that peaked my interest really, there was no one who possessed that unique balance of physical beauty and mental stimulation to truly make me interested.
My friend didn't believe me right away. He stated, " There are so many intelligent girls where you're at that I can't see that being the case." He was absolutely correct. I confessed that it wasn't that there weren't any girls that could interest me intellectually, but it was most of the women attracted to me were not my type physically.
The truth of the matter is that I am not attracted to big girls, and before anyone tries to stamp me with the shallow label let me say this : You can fall in love with a person's mind, but you can not make love to that person's mind. There must be some kind of mutual physical attraction.
He then asked me, " So you don't like thick girls either?" I answered his question with my own question, "Is there really a difference?" I never liked using the term thick to describe a woman's build because honestly it doesn't really describe anything. The term has been misused so much that a woman the size of the Goodyear blimp could claim she is thick. Where is the point where a woman is no longer thick and is on the big girl side? Do you know anyone who is denial about their "thickness?"
Urban Dictionary definition: A thick girl is a girl who is an above average size. However she is not fat. She is solid. One way to test is to slap her ass.........If it jiggles then shes more fat than thick . If it doesnt, you my friend have a thick girl :)
Thanks for reading please keep all discussion in the comment box below.
The basketball talk lasted long than I had wanted it to; anyone who considers Blake Griffin to be the new Hakeem Olajuwon needs to watch ESPN Classic or something. As the basketball talk began to die down my associate asked me, "How are the ladies treating you?" I told him that girls were not treating me any different really. I also said that they weren't any that peaked my interest really, there was no one who possessed that unique balance of physical beauty and mental stimulation to truly make me interested.
My friend didn't believe me right away. He stated, " There are so many intelligent girls where you're at that I can't see that being the case." He was absolutely correct. I confessed that it wasn't that there weren't any girls that could interest me intellectually, but it was most of the women attracted to me were not my type physically.
The truth of the matter is that I am not attracted to big girls, and before anyone tries to stamp me with the shallow label let me say this : You can fall in love with a person's mind, but you can not make love to that person's mind. There must be some kind of mutual physical attraction.
He then asked me, " So you don't like thick girls either?" I answered his question with my own question, "Is there really a difference?" I never liked using the term thick to describe a woman's build because honestly it doesn't really describe anything. The term has been misused so much that a woman the size of the Goodyear blimp could claim she is thick. Where is the point where a woman is no longer thick and is on the big girl side? Do you know anyone who is denial about their "thickness?"
Urban Dictionary definition: A thick girl is a girl who is an above average size. However she is not fat. She is solid. One way to test is to slap her ass.........If it jiggles then shes more fat than thick . If it doesnt, you my friend have a thick girl :)
Thick or Fat?
What About her? Thick or Fat?
Thanks for reading please keep all discussion in the comment box below.
Friday, December 30, 2011
#Eli's top 10 verses of 2011
#10 Busta Rhymes " Look At Me Now" Busta can rap at a million words per second and he showcased his super speed flow on this smash hit off Chris Brown's F.A.M.E. album.
7. Jay-Z "Who Gon' Stop Me" For most of Watch The Throne Kanye West outshone Jay-Z but on "Who Gon' Stop Me" Jay-Z reminded us why he's a living monument.
9. Drake "Lord Knows" Off his latest album Take Care, Drake drops a couple gems on this track. His first verse maybe a classic
8. Lupe Fiasco "Double Burger With Cheese" Lupe raps over a Justice beat and illustrates how the movies that black youth grew up with also help reinforce stereotypes and double standards.
7. Jay-Z "Who Gon' Stop Me" For most of Watch The Throne Kanye West outshone Jay-Z but on "Who Gon' Stop Me" Jay-Z reminded us why he's a living monument.
6. Big Sean "I Do It" Big Sean takes the six spot with the best Family Guy reference in history
5. Wale "Chain Music" The second verse on Chain Music is one of the realest of the year. " I was hoping you would notice where my mind at put money in a book I bet these bitches wouldn't find it" Nobody peep you when you being humble
4. Talib Kweli and Jay Electronica "Just Begun" Talib Kweli hasn't spit a bad verse in his entire career, and Jay Electronica picks up right where he left off and proceeds to burn the booth down.
3.Joe Budden- "Slaughterhouse B.E.T. chyper" Joey buttons sets the bar at an almost unreachable point with his verse on the B.E.T. chyper. This doesn't even count as a song but I don't care; his verse was so hot I didn't even wanna hear who ever it was that came on next.
2. Kendrick Lamar "The City w/ The Game" Kendrick Lamar made two very lack luster Game verses worth suffering through. He simply demolished Game on his track, and was pretty much the highlight on the entire tape. Feel free to skip to about 3:37 in the vid below to listen to Kendrick go H.A.M!
1. Nas "Outro on the Carter IV" The best verse on Wayne's Carter IV wasn't even uttered by Wayne himself. Nas stepped inside a time machine, he sounded as hungry as he did back in 92. The verse of the year goes to Nasty Nas.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
#Eli's Top 10 Songs To Listen To While Under The Influence.
Music is like the background to our every life scenarios. We listen to music while we travel, while we study, while we having sex etc and etc. But I feel that all will agree that music never sounds better while your senses are dulled, your eyes lids feel like they've been lifting 5 lbs weights and everything you drink tastes like Ciroc. So tonight I'm gonna give you my soundtrack to High Times. If a song you like to get fucked up to isn't on my list leave the track name and artist in a comment. Also make sure to follow the blog!
10. Styles P " I Get High" You can't have a list like this without this classic from SP Da Ghost! His eyes in the video always creeped me the fuck out though lol
10. Styles P " I Get High" You can't have a list like this without this classic from SP Da Ghost! His eyes in the video always creeped me the fuck out though lol
9. Currency "She Don't Wanna Man" This beat is smooth as hell. Spitta always got the best tracks to smoke and chill to ( and this comes from someone who don't even smoke like that) Also I feel like 90% of females feel this way when they on.
8. Nozzy "Cold Night In Center City" No dick ridin' shit Nozzy basically described every weekend I had over the pass two years. And he write when all this sexy ass females start taking shot how can I NOT take one with them?
7. The Isley Brothers "For The Love Of You" The song's melody it's self sound like a summer day. It reminds me of my family cookouts with all my drunk uncles playing cards and sippin on EnJ. They used to get sauced! Everyone of my uncles thought they were Ron Isley when this track came on, why do drunk people always think they can sing/rap?
6. Snoop Dogg "Gin and Juice" Classic song and a classic mixed drink. You just can't go wrong with Gin and Juice.
5. Kendrick Lamar "A.D.H.D. " It's something about this beat that just gets me in my zone, you add the great production with Kendrick's flawless delivery and you got the perfect soundtrack to inebriation.
4. Kid Cudi "Hyer" The name of the song says it all lol.
3. Stevie Wonder "Too High" It was the 70s everybody was fucked up even the blind niggas lol. Listen to the lyrics and you'll hear that Stevie was trippin' hard while writing this song. One of my favorite singers of all time and one of my favorite tracks to zone out to when I'm One On.
2. Frank Ocean "Novacane" Def one of my fav drug ballads. Just listening to this song makes you feel high.
1. Rick James "Mary Jane" No one got more fucked up than Rick James... well maybe Jimmi Hendrix was but that's debatable. My mom told me stories about how Rick used to roll up on stage before he performed this song. He may be the first artist to hotbox a stadium...wowzers
Truth Or Dare ( A Short Story)
Frost and condensation slimed down the bottle of E&J Erica pulled from her freezer. On top of her microwave was an assorted variety of shot glasses with token one liner messages imprinted on them from every walk of life. I was very amused to find that she had a penis shaped shot glass with two glass testicles to support it, they resembled bubbles a toddler would blow from a wand on a sunny spring day. It was a double shot glass roughly six inches long.
I playfully picked up the penis shaped shot glass and placed it in Erica’s hand. I then made a joke that she should use that glass for the rest of the night. It would be good practice before she puts the real thing in her mouth. Erica punched me on the shoulder with trained accuracy and swiftness, she had taken boxing classes ever since she was a small girl. She then said, (with attitude mind you) “ You wish your penis was half the size of my shot glass!”
“ You wish you knew what a penis felt like!” I half laughed and half dodged a quick right hand jab that Erica hurled in my direction. Erica was 22 years old and still a virgin. She was a virgin more by choice than by lack of male suitors- that had to be the case because male attention was to Erica, what sweat must be to a gym full of basketball players- I know that much for a fact; a fair share of that male attention came from me.
During our senior year of high school we became great friends because we had common interests in politics, poetry and music. Our conversations varied between detailed discussions analyzing the United States involvement in Middle Eastern conflicts and intimate poetry readings describing our every want, desire and need. Somewhere between the Middle East and the poetry slams I developed feelings for her. When she would speak my eyes would become heavy, and it became hard to lift them higher than the level of her chest or the oval of her mouth and lips. Suddenly Erica became the subject of many of my x-rated daydreams and fantasies. While I was imagining how amazing it would be to have her bent over face down and ass up, Erica, only saw me as the boy she shared poetry with.
Erica took the bottle and took it into the living room where our other two friends waited. My eyes widened as Erica walked past me and through the kitchen door. She walked in and out of my life many times since we graduated high school; and every time she walked out I held my breathe; taking in every angle of her beautiful backside. Her hips swayed like a pendulum, or more like a wrecking ball, Erica had the type of ass that made men stop and stare as if they were Neo from the matrix, the type of ass that normally would only be witnessed bouncing on B.E.T. Uncut or sliding down a pole in Magic City.
I reach over to Erica’s microwave and grab three shot glasses as I do I hear Melissa’s voice ringing in a bossy tone from Erica’s living room. “ Don’t forget to bring some cups and Soda!”
“ Cups and Soda?” I mutter to myself. “ Why the fuck do you want soda? I thought we were taking shots.”
Melissa’s voice returned with annoyance and thunder, “ Who do you think your cursing at like that? Now get the damn cups like I asked you to before we have a problem.”
“ You two fight like a damn married couple,” Jeremiah said laughingly. His deep baritone voice boomed from the living room. His voice was the type you would hear on the Quiet Storm introducing songs by Luther Vandross and other baby making music. It always reminded me of Dos Equis bottles and chest hair. “ You two should just fuck and get it over with. The sexual frustration between you guys is so strong I can see it in the air, like when you exhale in the winter or something.”
Jeremiah knew Melissa and I argued every time we were in the same room. I confided to him once that she made me so mad that she actually turned me on. She wasn’t an unattractive person on the outside. She was a light bright, her complexion was similar to potato bread or pancakes. Her hair was mahogany brown and her almond shaped eyes were of a similar shade. On the inside however, she was a hideous fire breathing dragon. Her tongue spat words hot enough to burn water and boil flesh. I was usually the victim of her heated verbal abuse because my mouth wasn’t much better. I made a promise to myself to use the sword between my legs to slay that fire breathing dragon inside of her but that’s another story.
The four of us were all graduates of the same high school. It had been some time since we last saw each other but things were pretty much the same. Erica seemed oblivious to me undressing her with my mind, Melissa threatened to ruthie me on several occasions and Jeremiah sat back and watch the show unfold. Every once and a while he would comment on how sexually frustrated Melissa and I were. His comments were basically the equivalent of attempting to extinguish a fire with a match and a canister of lighter fluid.
After awhile the empty air space in our cups were filled by the stench of liquor and the effervescence of Coca-Cola.
We toasted to friendship, success and happiness. The liquor made me feel more cordial and talkative. I laughed freely as I brought my cup to my lips and sipped gratefully. My chest lightly burned and I felt warm all over, the sensation reminded me of the warmth clothes collect when they are fresh from the dryer or fresh off an ironing board. My cheeks hurt from smiling but I wasn’t really sure what I was smiling about or when I first started cheessing.
I looked into the rich chocolate colored drink inside my cup and wonder how much I drank already. I counted five cups of EnJ and coke along with the three shots we took as a group, toasting to our health. Melissa’s face was starting to flush, the liquor was making her blush, her cheeks resembled red stop lights when she smiled. Her eyes were also turning red, the dragon inside her was now breathing alcoholic fumes instead of blazing flames. I never took her for a happy drunk. Jeremiah removed his sweater stating that he was feeling a bit hot. He wiped his brow as sweat began to bead on his forehead and face. His radio quality voice made me want to hear music. The rise and fall of our laughter and chatter didn’t have the musicality necessary for me to be in the perfect place to ride the waves of drunken splendor I was currently experiencing. Erica was on the same page apparently. She rose from her seat with a slight stumble using the arm of her “L” shaped sofa to regain her balance. I once again gazed at her beauty. Her ebony skin was even colored like chocolate milk or black sand on an African shoreline. She wore her hair cut short, it succeeded in highlighting her high cheeks bones and perfectly symmetrical face. Her jeans and shirt were plain, most likely Wal-mart brand. They did nothing to bring attention to her body. But after years of working out and training her body in her father’s boxing gym Erica’s body emphasized its self.
Erica plugged in her Ipod to her speaker system and played “Bad Girl” by Usher. I sung the words to myself and watched as she danced by her self. Watching her dance I started to fantasize how she would move in bed. I sang to her, in a very bad Usher impersonation, “ Get at me bad girl,” and motioned for her to dance with me. She gave me a look that said, “ I’m drunk but not that drunk” and returned to her seat.
I felt played but it didn’t matter. I was played by her many a time while I was sober, at least now I could blame it on the alcohol. Besides Erica was still a virgin, she wasn’t experienced enough for me at all. I thought of how annoying it would be to have to tell her what to do and how to do it. It wasn’t worth the trouble of trying so hard to get with her if I had to play sex ed. teacher once I succeeded.
I noticed Melissa and Jeremiah getting comfortable on their side of the sofa. Jeremiah’s arm was tightly wrapped around her shoulder, Melissa’s head was pressed against his chest as if she was checking if his heart was still beating. She noticed me noticing them and raised from Jeremiah’s embrace. She reached for her cup and almost knocked over the bottle of E&J sitting in the middle of the living room table. We all laughed drunkenly at her mishap. I gently rapped on Erica’s thigh as I laughed deeply, the liquor heightening the hilarity of the moment like how lime accentuates the taste of a Corona at a bar. Sex glimmered in Melissa’s eye as Jeremiah re-established his arm on her shoulder. As she sipped her cup her mahogany eyes met mine and then I knew that someone was going to get lucky tonight, and that person was not me.
Erica must’ve noticed the good vibrations emanating from their side of the room as well. She stood up and gathered the attention of all those in the living room.
“ We should play a game.” Erica slurred when she spoke. Her sentence met my ears in slow motion.
Melissa was getting comfortable cuddled up with Jeremiah. Her body language showed that she was annoyed by Erica interrupting what was percolating on their side of the sofa.
“ And what game did you have in mind?” Melissa questioned, the dragon inside her was beginning to heat up.
“ Truth… or… Dare!”
“ You do realize that we are adults right? What’s next spin the bottle?” Melissa laughed at her own joke and begun to pour herself another mixed drink. A devious, yet sexy, smiled crept on Erica’s lips. I didn’t know why but I liked this side of her.
“ That’s exactly right we are adults. So you won’t mind making things a bit “X” rated.?” Erica smiled that devious sex charged smile as she spoke. Before I knew it I was on my feet advocating truth or dare. My sudden burst of energy must’ve been persuasive because Jeremiah’s deep baritone was soon backing my every word. Outnumbered, Melissa quelled her dragon’s tongue and agreed to play. I laid the ground rules for our adult version of truth of dare. No one had to do a dare they did not feel comfortable doing. However, if that was the case they were required to take a straight shot of E&J, and there was no getting around it. This was a fitting punishment because we were all so inebriated just the thought of drinking more brandy was almost like puking. Men could not be dared to do anything that would require their lips touching. However, sexual contact between females was permitted and in the case of Jeremiah and I, absolutely encouraged.
With the rules laid down the game began. Erica went first since it was her idea to play. She turned towards me and pointed a long skinny finger towards my chest. She then said, “ I dare Melissa to take a body shot off him.”
With her finger pointed directly at me there was no mistaking who “him” was. Melissa didn’t say anything at all, she only grabbed a shot glass, filled it to the brim with E&J and said to me,“ Take your shirt off.” Her eyes looked determined for some reason, it was like the eye of the tiger or something. Melissa seemed ready to really start the game of strong. Following orders I lost my shirt and tossed it on the sofa next to where Erica sat. I look great without a shirt on. All the years of playing basketball and working out with those Ultimate Push-Ups seen on television gave me a slender athletic build and great abs.
Melissa ordered me to lay on the floor. She then mounted me and poured the liquor on my dark brown skin. It felt like steady raindrops were falling on my stomach area. I could feel the warmth between Melissa’s legs, she was wearing a medium length skirt so I’m almost certain she could feel the blood rushing towards my member as my nature began to rise. She sucked all the liquor from the crevice of my bellybutton. Her tongue then worked along the indentations of my stomach muscles, her mouth moved like a vacuum extension sucking all the liquor from the hard to reach spaces. When she was finished she ran her hands across my chest and brought her mouth to my ears. She then said fairly audibly, “ You’re bigger than I thought you were.” she kissed me on the cheek and returned to her seat.
Melissa’s turn was next. She looked at Erica and I felt the dragon’s flame heat in revenge. “ Erica, truth or dare?” Melissa asked, her own impish smile flashed upon her face.
“ Dare” answered Erica with a defiant tone. It seemed to me that Erica was out to prove that she wasn’t as innocent as her peers thought she was. Maybe my teasing about her virginity really did get to her?
“ I dare you to strip down to your bra and panties.”
Erica was of a dark skin tone but there was a flush of color that flooded her cheeks. If I wasn’t sure that Erica wasn’t capable of it, I would’ve swore that she was blushing. Erica took of her baggy Wal-mart brand shirt and dropped it to her feet. Her bra was white lace it reminded me of cotton or loose leaf paper. The juxtaposition between her skin tone and her brassiere was like milk and chocolate chip cookies but exponentially more enticing. Erica then removed her loose fitting jeans. I expected Erica, to be wearing granny panties, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that she was actually wearing a thong. Her butt completely engulfed it, Erica’s body was more stunning than I could’ve ever dreamed. God could use her figure as a stencil to paint the perfect woman.
Jeremiah, during his turn, dared Melissa to also strip down to her bra and panties. Melissa looked at Erica’s body and seemed to second guess trying to follow up the show that Erica put on. Determined not to be undone she grabbed her shot glass and filled it with liquid confidence. She drained it in one motion. Before taking the shot her cheeks resembles two red stop lights, but after taking the last shot her face flushed again and her cheeks turned into huge stop signs. With the extra liquor in her system she lowered the spaghetti strings of her skirt and allowed gravity to undress her before our very eyes. Melissa’s body was very slender, she was like the black version of Pop-eye’s wife Olive Oyl. Her chest was big for her thin physique and navy her push up bra made her breast look like lemon colored water balloons. One could say she resembled an upper case “P.”
I was laying on the floor still, shirtless, sticky and sporting a mild erection. Everyone in the room remained silent, the only sound was Erica’s speakers playing “Cross The Line” by John Legend. My buzz was beginning to wear off; so I knew that I wasn’t under the influence when I noticed everyone’s eyes sticking to me like flies on flypaper. Jeremiah looked as at his wrist watch as if time was just added to the endanger species list and the two half-naked females looked also impatient. It was then that my common sense kicked in and I realized it was mine turn.
Normally when it came to sexual jokes, innuendos or witty remarks ideas would come to me with every flick of my tongue. I’m a self proclaimed high class, intelligent, sexual being. My thought process and the gutter were interchangeable parts of the same intricate machinery, but, for some reason I was drawing blanks. I had no idea of what to do with my turn. I started to stall until some freaky idea bubbled in my mind’s cauldron, but all I could do was mumble and stutter like a two year old just beginning to speak. Erica sense my inability to come up with an adequate dare or question whispered into my ear. Her stroke of genius painted a sexual image in my mind so vivid that Rembrandt and Di Vinci rolled in their graves in envy.
“Jeremiah” I called out clearly. He answered my call with a look that said, “ It’s about damn time.” I thought to myself that Jeremiah was definitely the one getting lucky tonight. With that thought cooking on the back burner of my mind’s stove I inquired, “ Truth or Dare?”
“ Dare!” Jeremiah answered exactly how I hoped that he would.
“ Ok then, I dare you to bless Melissa right here and right now.” Jeremiah looked as if I didn’t know what I meant. Melissa however followed where my dare was going. She laid down on the sofa stomach side up and lifted her legs straight into the air, her body bent in a right angle. Slowly she peeled of her navy panties like they were saran wrapped to her body. Melissa then spread her legs, her private area was the color of cotton candy and probably just as sticky on your mouth and fingers. She beckoned Jeremiah and wrapped his head in her legs. From my point of view her legs looked like a yellow tie fixed around his shirt collar.
Melissa’s stomach muscles tightened and her chest ebbed and flowed as she rode waves of stimulation. She moaned softly and occasionally ran her fingers across the linen on Jeremiah’s shirt back. Erica’s shocked face said, “ I didn’t think they’d actually do it.”
But what it did not do was hide the fact that she getting very turned on by watching Jeremiah go down on Melissa. The thought that Jeremiah was getting so lucky tonight once again recurred in my mind.
Jeremiah finished deep sea diving and came up for air; Melissa continued to lay on the sofa. She was still breathing deeply, her eyes wide as dinner and plates and occasionally blinking. The fire breathing dragon underneath her cute exterior was now spewing flames of desire rather than wrath.
“ Truth or Dare?” Melissa sat up and looked dead at me, a bead of sweat dripping down her nose and falling into the valley between her breast. I begun to look around, avoiding her question as if I was not sure whom she was speaking to. “ You” she pointed at me to make no mistake of who she was talking to. “ Truth or Dare?” I never understood why she just didn’t call me by name , but nonetheless, I answered her,
“Dare!”
“Good” Melissa looked into my eyes and then looked at Erica. “ It’s no secret you’ve had a thing for Erica since high school. There’s no point in denying it, you’re not the only one who’s sex intelligent here.”
Her words made me feel like my stomach was floating, my inner most feelings were being placed on Front street for the entire world to hear. Erica only looked at me, her dark skin glowing in the moonlight. The few years since high school were great to her, she was a Pinot or a Chardonnay, only becoming more exquisite with time. Something told me that she knew how I felt about her all along, that my feelings for her was only as secretive as the inner flap of an old novel. I focused back on Melissa and prepared to face whatever she had planned for me.
“ I dare you to take Erica’s virginity.”
I turned towards Erica expecting some sort of protest, some sort of outrage that Melissa would even make something as precious as a her v-card a subject of a drunken game. Erica simply unstrapped her bra and her white laced panties soon followed. A throbbing sensation was pulsing in my pants and the room suddenly turned tropical getaway warm.
The room swirled and transformed. Erica’s room was messier than I expected, her clothes were scattered all over her walk in closet and her bed was a tossed salad of sky blue linen, mismatched stripped pillows and crumpled sheets. Her room was stifling. As I sucked on her neck I tasted salt and sweat rather than the creamy whipped chocolate I imagined. Her breast which were ripe fruits when she first exposed them felt like stress balls when I groped and squeezed them. I pull her hair lightly, and arch her face to kiss her, she shoves her tongue down my throat and I taste E&J and I feel like I want to gag. She lays on her back and spreads her legs. I mount her, preparing to enter her walls. I’m erect my member filling with anticipation for that moist warmth I’ll feel once I push inside her like a knife cutting through melted butter, but, her body is cold inside. She feels like a glacier, an ice cave void of pleasure filled with disappointment. “This isn’t right“… I hear my voice saying “ This isn’t right.”
I snap out of my daydream and gaze at Erica’s naked body. The desire is still ever present but my will is broken. My sexual desire for Erica could flood dams and power small cities, but my respect for her is like the sun in the morning sky. It’s power is limitless. I looked into her almond colored eyes and say “ I can’t do it. I can‘t let you lose it like this.” The sound of my peers jaws crashing into the ground wasn’t nearly as loud as my dreams shattering. I grabbed my shot glass, took a shot of E&J and placed the empty bottle on the living room table. I then collected my shirt from the side of the sofa and straightened myself up before I prepared to leave. As I did I kissed Erica deeply. She tasted Hersey chocolate, creamy and rich, just how I always imagined she would. As I walked down Erica’s drive way my cell vibrated on my hip. It was a text from Erica reading, “Thank you.” But what it really said was, “ The boy I used to share poetry with has really grown up.” Erica would stay in my life a bit longer this time.
I playfully picked up the penis shaped shot glass and placed it in Erica’s hand. I then made a joke that she should use that glass for the rest of the night. It would be good practice before she puts the real thing in her mouth. Erica punched me on the shoulder with trained accuracy and swiftness, she had taken boxing classes ever since she was a small girl. She then said, (with attitude mind you) “ You wish your penis was half the size of my shot glass!”
“ You wish you knew what a penis felt like!” I half laughed and half dodged a quick right hand jab that Erica hurled in my direction. Erica was 22 years old and still a virgin. She was a virgin more by choice than by lack of male suitors- that had to be the case because male attention was to Erica, what sweat must be to a gym full of basketball players- I know that much for a fact; a fair share of that male attention came from me.
During our senior year of high school we became great friends because we had common interests in politics, poetry and music. Our conversations varied between detailed discussions analyzing the United States involvement in Middle Eastern conflicts and intimate poetry readings describing our every want, desire and need. Somewhere between the Middle East and the poetry slams I developed feelings for her. When she would speak my eyes would become heavy, and it became hard to lift them higher than the level of her chest or the oval of her mouth and lips. Suddenly Erica became the subject of many of my x-rated daydreams and fantasies. While I was imagining how amazing it would be to have her bent over face down and ass up, Erica, only saw me as the boy she shared poetry with.
Erica took the bottle and took it into the living room where our other two friends waited. My eyes widened as Erica walked past me and through the kitchen door. She walked in and out of my life many times since we graduated high school; and every time she walked out I held my breathe; taking in every angle of her beautiful backside. Her hips swayed like a pendulum, or more like a wrecking ball, Erica had the type of ass that made men stop and stare as if they were Neo from the matrix, the type of ass that normally would only be witnessed bouncing on B.E.T. Uncut or sliding down a pole in Magic City.
I reach over to Erica’s microwave and grab three shot glasses as I do I hear Melissa’s voice ringing in a bossy tone from Erica’s living room. “ Don’t forget to bring some cups and Soda!”
“ Cups and Soda?” I mutter to myself. “ Why the fuck do you want soda? I thought we were taking shots.”
Melissa’s voice returned with annoyance and thunder, “ Who do you think your cursing at like that? Now get the damn cups like I asked you to before we have a problem.”
“ You two fight like a damn married couple,” Jeremiah said laughingly. His deep baritone voice boomed from the living room. His voice was the type you would hear on the Quiet Storm introducing songs by Luther Vandross and other baby making music. It always reminded me of Dos Equis bottles and chest hair. “ You two should just fuck and get it over with. The sexual frustration between you guys is so strong I can see it in the air, like when you exhale in the winter or something.”
Jeremiah knew Melissa and I argued every time we were in the same room. I confided to him once that she made me so mad that she actually turned me on. She wasn’t an unattractive person on the outside. She was a light bright, her complexion was similar to potato bread or pancakes. Her hair was mahogany brown and her almond shaped eyes were of a similar shade. On the inside however, she was a hideous fire breathing dragon. Her tongue spat words hot enough to burn water and boil flesh. I was usually the victim of her heated verbal abuse because my mouth wasn’t much better. I made a promise to myself to use the sword between my legs to slay that fire breathing dragon inside of her but that’s another story.
The four of us were all graduates of the same high school. It had been some time since we last saw each other but things were pretty much the same. Erica seemed oblivious to me undressing her with my mind, Melissa threatened to ruthie me on several occasions and Jeremiah sat back and watch the show unfold. Every once and a while he would comment on how sexually frustrated Melissa and I were. His comments were basically the equivalent of attempting to extinguish a fire with a match and a canister of lighter fluid.
After awhile the empty air space in our cups were filled by the stench of liquor and the effervescence of Coca-Cola.
We toasted to friendship, success and happiness. The liquor made me feel more cordial and talkative. I laughed freely as I brought my cup to my lips and sipped gratefully. My chest lightly burned and I felt warm all over, the sensation reminded me of the warmth clothes collect when they are fresh from the dryer or fresh off an ironing board. My cheeks hurt from smiling but I wasn’t really sure what I was smiling about or when I first started cheessing.
I looked into the rich chocolate colored drink inside my cup and wonder how much I drank already. I counted five cups of EnJ and coke along with the three shots we took as a group, toasting to our health. Melissa’s face was starting to flush, the liquor was making her blush, her cheeks resembled red stop lights when she smiled. Her eyes were also turning red, the dragon inside her was now breathing alcoholic fumes instead of blazing flames. I never took her for a happy drunk. Jeremiah removed his sweater stating that he was feeling a bit hot. He wiped his brow as sweat began to bead on his forehead and face. His radio quality voice made me want to hear music. The rise and fall of our laughter and chatter didn’t have the musicality necessary for me to be in the perfect place to ride the waves of drunken splendor I was currently experiencing. Erica was on the same page apparently. She rose from her seat with a slight stumble using the arm of her “L” shaped sofa to regain her balance. I once again gazed at her beauty. Her ebony skin was even colored like chocolate milk or black sand on an African shoreline. She wore her hair cut short, it succeeded in highlighting her high cheeks bones and perfectly symmetrical face. Her jeans and shirt were plain, most likely Wal-mart brand. They did nothing to bring attention to her body. But after years of working out and training her body in her father’s boxing gym Erica’s body emphasized its self.
Erica plugged in her Ipod to her speaker system and played “Bad Girl” by Usher. I sung the words to myself and watched as she danced by her self. Watching her dance I started to fantasize how she would move in bed. I sang to her, in a very bad Usher impersonation, “ Get at me bad girl,” and motioned for her to dance with me. She gave me a look that said, “ I’m drunk but not that drunk” and returned to her seat.
I felt played but it didn’t matter. I was played by her many a time while I was sober, at least now I could blame it on the alcohol. Besides Erica was still a virgin, she wasn’t experienced enough for me at all. I thought of how annoying it would be to have to tell her what to do and how to do it. It wasn’t worth the trouble of trying so hard to get with her if I had to play sex ed. teacher once I succeeded.
I noticed Melissa and Jeremiah getting comfortable on their side of the sofa. Jeremiah’s arm was tightly wrapped around her shoulder, Melissa’s head was pressed against his chest as if she was checking if his heart was still beating. She noticed me noticing them and raised from Jeremiah’s embrace. She reached for her cup and almost knocked over the bottle of E&J sitting in the middle of the living room table. We all laughed drunkenly at her mishap. I gently rapped on Erica’s thigh as I laughed deeply, the liquor heightening the hilarity of the moment like how lime accentuates the taste of a Corona at a bar. Sex glimmered in Melissa’s eye as Jeremiah re-established his arm on her shoulder. As she sipped her cup her mahogany eyes met mine and then I knew that someone was going to get lucky tonight, and that person was not me.
Erica must’ve noticed the good vibrations emanating from their side of the room as well. She stood up and gathered the attention of all those in the living room.
“ We should play a game.” Erica slurred when she spoke. Her sentence met my ears in slow motion.
Melissa was getting comfortable cuddled up with Jeremiah. Her body language showed that she was annoyed by Erica interrupting what was percolating on their side of the sofa.
“ And what game did you have in mind?” Melissa questioned, the dragon inside her was beginning to heat up.
“ Truth… or… Dare!”
“ You do realize that we are adults right? What’s next spin the bottle?” Melissa laughed at her own joke and begun to pour herself another mixed drink. A devious, yet sexy, smiled crept on Erica’s lips. I didn’t know why but I liked this side of her.
“ That’s exactly right we are adults. So you won’t mind making things a bit “X” rated.?” Erica smiled that devious sex charged smile as she spoke. Before I knew it I was on my feet advocating truth or dare. My sudden burst of energy must’ve been persuasive because Jeremiah’s deep baritone was soon backing my every word. Outnumbered, Melissa quelled her dragon’s tongue and agreed to play. I laid the ground rules for our adult version of truth of dare. No one had to do a dare they did not feel comfortable doing. However, if that was the case they were required to take a straight shot of E&J, and there was no getting around it. This was a fitting punishment because we were all so inebriated just the thought of drinking more brandy was almost like puking. Men could not be dared to do anything that would require their lips touching. However, sexual contact between females was permitted and in the case of Jeremiah and I, absolutely encouraged.
With the rules laid down the game began. Erica went first since it was her idea to play. She turned towards me and pointed a long skinny finger towards my chest. She then said, “ I dare Melissa to take a body shot off him.”
With her finger pointed directly at me there was no mistaking who “him” was. Melissa didn’t say anything at all, she only grabbed a shot glass, filled it to the brim with E&J and said to me,“ Take your shirt off.” Her eyes looked determined for some reason, it was like the eye of the tiger or something. Melissa seemed ready to really start the game of strong. Following orders I lost my shirt and tossed it on the sofa next to where Erica sat. I look great without a shirt on. All the years of playing basketball and working out with those Ultimate Push-Ups seen on television gave me a slender athletic build and great abs.
Melissa ordered me to lay on the floor. She then mounted me and poured the liquor on my dark brown skin. It felt like steady raindrops were falling on my stomach area. I could feel the warmth between Melissa’s legs, she was wearing a medium length skirt so I’m almost certain she could feel the blood rushing towards my member as my nature began to rise. She sucked all the liquor from the crevice of my bellybutton. Her tongue then worked along the indentations of my stomach muscles, her mouth moved like a vacuum extension sucking all the liquor from the hard to reach spaces. When she was finished she ran her hands across my chest and brought her mouth to my ears. She then said fairly audibly, “ You’re bigger than I thought you were.” she kissed me on the cheek and returned to her seat.
Melissa’s turn was next. She looked at Erica and I felt the dragon’s flame heat in revenge. “ Erica, truth or dare?” Melissa asked, her own impish smile flashed upon her face.
“ Dare” answered Erica with a defiant tone. It seemed to me that Erica was out to prove that she wasn’t as innocent as her peers thought she was. Maybe my teasing about her virginity really did get to her?
“ I dare you to strip down to your bra and panties.”
Erica was of a dark skin tone but there was a flush of color that flooded her cheeks. If I wasn’t sure that Erica wasn’t capable of it, I would’ve swore that she was blushing. Erica took of her baggy Wal-mart brand shirt and dropped it to her feet. Her bra was white lace it reminded me of cotton or loose leaf paper. The juxtaposition between her skin tone and her brassiere was like milk and chocolate chip cookies but exponentially more enticing. Erica then removed her loose fitting jeans. I expected Erica, to be wearing granny panties, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that she was actually wearing a thong. Her butt completely engulfed it, Erica’s body was more stunning than I could’ve ever dreamed. God could use her figure as a stencil to paint the perfect woman.
Jeremiah, during his turn, dared Melissa to also strip down to her bra and panties. Melissa looked at Erica’s body and seemed to second guess trying to follow up the show that Erica put on. Determined not to be undone she grabbed her shot glass and filled it with liquid confidence. She drained it in one motion. Before taking the shot her cheeks resembles two red stop lights, but after taking the last shot her face flushed again and her cheeks turned into huge stop signs. With the extra liquor in her system she lowered the spaghetti strings of her skirt and allowed gravity to undress her before our very eyes. Melissa’s body was very slender, she was like the black version of Pop-eye’s wife Olive Oyl. Her chest was big for her thin physique and navy her push up bra made her breast look like lemon colored water balloons. One could say she resembled an upper case “P.”
I was laying on the floor still, shirtless, sticky and sporting a mild erection. Everyone in the room remained silent, the only sound was Erica’s speakers playing “Cross The Line” by John Legend. My buzz was beginning to wear off; so I knew that I wasn’t under the influence when I noticed everyone’s eyes sticking to me like flies on flypaper. Jeremiah looked as at his wrist watch as if time was just added to the endanger species list and the two half-naked females looked also impatient. It was then that my common sense kicked in and I realized it was mine turn.
Normally when it came to sexual jokes, innuendos or witty remarks ideas would come to me with every flick of my tongue. I’m a self proclaimed high class, intelligent, sexual being. My thought process and the gutter were interchangeable parts of the same intricate machinery, but, for some reason I was drawing blanks. I had no idea of what to do with my turn. I started to stall until some freaky idea bubbled in my mind’s cauldron, but all I could do was mumble and stutter like a two year old just beginning to speak. Erica sense my inability to come up with an adequate dare or question whispered into my ear. Her stroke of genius painted a sexual image in my mind so vivid that Rembrandt and Di Vinci rolled in their graves in envy.
“Jeremiah” I called out clearly. He answered my call with a look that said, “ It’s about damn time.” I thought to myself that Jeremiah was definitely the one getting lucky tonight. With that thought cooking on the back burner of my mind’s stove I inquired, “ Truth or Dare?”
“ Dare!” Jeremiah answered exactly how I hoped that he would.
“ Ok then, I dare you to bless Melissa right here and right now.” Jeremiah looked as if I didn’t know what I meant. Melissa however followed where my dare was going. She laid down on the sofa stomach side up and lifted her legs straight into the air, her body bent in a right angle. Slowly she peeled of her navy panties like they were saran wrapped to her body. Melissa then spread her legs, her private area was the color of cotton candy and probably just as sticky on your mouth and fingers. She beckoned Jeremiah and wrapped his head in her legs. From my point of view her legs looked like a yellow tie fixed around his shirt collar.
Melissa’s stomach muscles tightened and her chest ebbed and flowed as she rode waves of stimulation. She moaned softly and occasionally ran her fingers across the linen on Jeremiah’s shirt back. Erica’s shocked face said, “ I didn’t think they’d actually do it.”
But what it did not do was hide the fact that she getting very turned on by watching Jeremiah go down on Melissa. The thought that Jeremiah was getting so lucky tonight once again recurred in my mind.
Jeremiah finished deep sea diving and came up for air; Melissa continued to lay on the sofa. She was still breathing deeply, her eyes wide as dinner and plates and occasionally blinking. The fire breathing dragon underneath her cute exterior was now spewing flames of desire rather than wrath.
“ Truth or Dare?” Melissa sat up and looked dead at me, a bead of sweat dripping down her nose and falling into the valley between her breast. I begun to look around, avoiding her question as if I was not sure whom she was speaking to. “ You” she pointed at me to make no mistake of who she was talking to. “ Truth or Dare?” I never understood why she just didn’t call me by name , but nonetheless, I answered her,
“Dare!”
“Good” Melissa looked into my eyes and then looked at Erica. “ It’s no secret you’ve had a thing for Erica since high school. There’s no point in denying it, you’re not the only one who’s sex intelligent here.”
Her words made me feel like my stomach was floating, my inner most feelings were being placed on Front street for the entire world to hear. Erica only looked at me, her dark skin glowing in the moonlight. The few years since high school were great to her, she was a Pinot or a Chardonnay, only becoming more exquisite with time. Something told me that she knew how I felt about her all along, that my feelings for her was only as secretive as the inner flap of an old novel. I focused back on Melissa and prepared to face whatever she had planned for me.
“ I dare you to take Erica’s virginity.”
I turned towards Erica expecting some sort of protest, some sort of outrage that Melissa would even make something as precious as a her v-card a subject of a drunken game. Erica simply unstrapped her bra and her white laced panties soon followed. A throbbing sensation was pulsing in my pants and the room suddenly turned tropical getaway warm.
The room swirled and transformed. Erica’s room was messier than I expected, her clothes were scattered all over her walk in closet and her bed was a tossed salad of sky blue linen, mismatched stripped pillows and crumpled sheets. Her room was stifling. As I sucked on her neck I tasted salt and sweat rather than the creamy whipped chocolate I imagined. Her breast which were ripe fruits when she first exposed them felt like stress balls when I groped and squeezed them. I pull her hair lightly, and arch her face to kiss her, she shoves her tongue down my throat and I taste E&J and I feel like I want to gag. She lays on her back and spreads her legs. I mount her, preparing to enter her walls. I’m erect my member filling with anticipation for that moist warmth I’ll feel once I push inside her like a knife cutting through melted butter, but, her body is cold inside. She feels like a glacier, an ice cave void of pleasure filled with disappointment. “This isn’t right“… I hear my voice saying “ This isn’t right.”
I snap out of my daydream and gaze at Erica’s naked body. The desire is still ever present but my will is broken. My sexual desire for Erica could flood dams and power small cities, but my respect for her is like the sun in the morning sky. It’s power is limitless. I looked into her almond colored eyes and say “ I can’t do it. I can‘t let you lose it like this.” The sound of my peers jaws crashing into the ground wasn’t nearly as loud as my dreams shattering. I grabbed my shot glass, took a shot of E&J and placed the empty bottle on the living room table. I then collected my shirt from the side of the sofa and straightened myself up before I prepared to leave. As I did I kissed Erica deeply. She tasted Hersey chocolate, creamy and rich, just how I always imagined she would. As I walked down Erica’s drive way my cell vibrated on my hip. It was a text from Erica reading, “Thank you.” But what it really said was, “ The boy I used to share poetry with has really grown up.” Erica would stay in my life a bit longer this time.
#Eli's Top 10 Favorite Slow Jams
10. Lauryn Hill ft. D'Angelo "Nothing Even Matters"
9. Jon B "They Don't Know"
8. Amerie "Why Don't We Fall In Love"
3. Luther Vandross " If This World Were Mine"
9. Jon B "They Don't Know"
8. Amerie "Why Don't We Fall In Love"
7. Brandy "I Wanna Be Down"
6.Erykah Badu " Next Lifetime"
5. Dru Hill "5 steps"
4. Musiq Soulchild " Love"
2. Chakka Khan "Sweet Thing"
1. Marvin Gaye "Distant Lover"
Black Girl Lost?
I love women of all colors and shades. There is nothing that can make my day better than watching the sunlight reflect off a beautiful woman’s iris and then glisten like sapphires. The only thing that can top that is when a gorgeous female walks past me, and I watch as her hips rock back and forth like a pendulum or a wrecking ball, (depending on the size of her assets)some girls look even better going than they did coming. I love women with long hair that flows like the waters of the Amazon, and I love with women that wear their hair short to heighten their facial features. I love women with Spanish accents, copper skin tones and exotic eye colors. I love girls with fair skin the complexion of baby powder with red hair and long legs.
Needless to say race is never a deciding factor in who I am attracted to. I am always more concerned with what a person brings to the table mentally and spiritually than if a person fit’s my conceived preference of skin color or race. Besides, there isn’t a person on Earth that has a outer vessel that is impervious to the powers of time , an that is regardless of skin color or race. But if I had to pick a preference, or a type of woman that catches my eye more than often than others it would have to be black girls. There is something about a black women’s smile that has always caught my attention. I believe it is her ebony colored skin that wraps around the ivory of her even teeth, resembling diamonds in a velvet case, that mesmerizes me. Whatever the case I’ve always had a soft spot for dark skin black women, but apparently a lot of other men do not feel the same.
During a discussion with a friend of mine in the dining hall I was presented with some very surprising news. I say that this surprise was news because it was entirely new to me, and though this “news” was completely the opinion of this friend, she presented it to me the vigor that one presents cold hard fact. We were talking about the pros and cons of campus life; about how it can be difficult sometimes as black people to attend events at a predominantly white school. We complained about little things like having to endure dub-step and bad pop music at Arcadia’s SPB events, and the lack of black literature taught in the university English departments. Dub-step is bad and yes, it is true that non-white literature is a rarity in the English department, but neither one of us were prepared to orchestrate sit ins, or march on the walk of pride in order to read a poem by Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
However the con that did come up about life on campus, that made my friend lose her usual cool, trade her polite tone for an indignant attitude, and speak with a passion I thought her previously incapable of was the treatment of black females. My friend claimed that she was tired of being looked over by males on campus, and that she felt like black women were the equivalent of the invisible women from the Fantastic Four. She felt that the black female had fallen out of the favor of today’s men, and that men only approached women of lighter skin tones. She claimed that if that female did not adhere to the European state of beauty then she was considered ugly in the eyes of society. She then vehemently stated that she felt like a black girl lost. She did not use the term in its traditional sense, but instead used it as a metaphor to illustrate how she felt amongst her peers. She felt like the campus was separated by a black world and a white world, and that those two worlds come together too infrequently, but when those two worlds did come together, the black female was lost between the cracks; falling into a world lost in irrelevancy.
As a man that adores all women, black women especially I found it hard to believe that black women were falling out of favor among men.
My friend, however, was convinced that black women were the bottom of the totem pole and especially among white men. She was adamant that white men did not find women of her complexion attractive. My friend is a dark shade of brown, her complexion is similar to that of the Aunt Jemima character on pancake boxes. Ironically (or coincidently), she was the same complexion as a character that was based from a vaudeville minstrel show which entire existence was focused on making blacks look stupid and unattractive. During our conversation it never once occurred to me that maybe whites were conditioned to believe that a skin that shade of brown was unattractive and unsuitable for a prospective partner.
Aunt Jemima, minstrel shows, the depiction of blacks as primitive uncivilized creatures in children cartoons, all of those damaged blacks in the past, but I always thought that we have done enough to burn those images and ideas out of memory. Maybe I was being naïve? Or maybe my friend was over reacting?
In hindsight I believe that it was a little bit of both. Yes, my friend’s sexual repression caused her to express her self a bit too rashly, but at the same time her feeling of being invisible to Arcadia’s male population did not occur out of thin air. But, at the dinner table I decided to give more reasonable reasons for why she felt that she was invisible to men on campus. I told her that Arcadia is filled with cliques and that the reason she felt so invisible wasn’t because males, white males in particular, did not find her attractive but were rather intimidated of approaching a group of strangers. I told her that I found a lot of white females attractive on campus, but I never approached them because they were in a completely different circle of friends. It would be difficult to approach someone with romantic inclinations when they are constantly surrounded by strangers. I also asked her how many times she went out of her way to talk to someone not in her immediate circle of friends. But admittedly she was a social butterfly who intermingled between cliques, so when she frankly answered “Yes.” I took her word for it.
The discussion that I had with my friend at dinner played back in my mind long after we had left the dinning hall and returned to Oak Summit. A few days later I took the opportunity to ask another of my female friends if she felt that black women were out of favor among men, and in particular white men? She was of a lighter complexion of my previous interviewee and also had long straight hair and more European features. She was mixed with German and Native American, even though she identified herself as black she had a very exotic appeal to her. She answered that she believed that black women were out of favor to only some white males. She thought that white men didn’t really like black girls of a darker complexion, but said they were attracted to her. She told me how she would have white men tell her, “You’re pretty for a black girl” or ask her, “Are you really black? Do you tan?” She went on to say that she felt that white men who approached her were attracted to her because being with her would be like another notch in their belt. It would be like a sort of accomplishment they could relay to their friends in the morning. She said that for them being with a women of color was bragging rights. So they could boast, “ Yea I’ve been with Spanish girl or I’ve been with a black girl.” She then told me that she had a friend who was white and he had a black girlfriend. When she asked her friend to describe his girlfriend to her , he said she was tall and she wore her hair natural. He didn’t say that she was black because her race was of irrelevance to him. She said that that of course there were white males who were genuinely attracted to black females, but she believed there was not a large amount of them.
I then asked her did she ever feel that black men were less interested in black women as well? She answered that she felt white women were genuinely attracted to black males, and at the same time attracted to them in the same manner that white guys were attracted to her. The mixture of having a strong desire for black men and having the sensation of being with someone “exotic” made it easier for black males to be with white females. She thought all it took was someone to have the courage and step up. She also told me that she felt that black women made themselves inaccessible and that black women sometimes alienated black men. Black women feel the need to be independent, producing this aura of confidence, and unwillingness to settle for anything less than perfection. She said, “the notion of not wanting to settle is fine but when you start to say things like, ‘niggas ain’t shit’ you only alienate yourself.”
I listened to what she said and I agreed that sometimes black women do alienate themselves by being too proud. But at the same time I never felt intimidated by any female because she had her own things. After the conversation I had with this second friend, I thought to myself, if black women were indeed out of favor in the eyes of men how could they change? I mulled over that question for hours. I believed that my first friend was just frustrated when she said that men did not find girls of her complexion attractive. Any real man could realize what she could offer. She was in every word a beautiful person, and besides, black is beautiful. She called herself a “black girl lost.” But I believe that she is really a woman who is temporarily missing, and that someone (white or black) will find her in the lost and found somewhere. I still do not believe that black women are out of favor with today’s men, despite having two friends who believe that are. The most beautiful garment any woman can wear, regardless of skin color, is confidence in herself. If black women loose that then maybe one day they will fall out be favor. Until then I am a disbeliever.
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