Going Home (DB pt 9)

Start the night.

Orange Haired Abstract Femme

Afterwards, I wanted to cuddle, but she pushed me away.

I understood why she pushed me away–the threat of catching feelings after sex with a near stranger–but the chemicals in my brain demanded cuddles!

Three times I reached out to her and three times she pushed me away.

We got dressed, I put my wig back on and we headed out into the night.

“So, did you cum?” she asked, somewhat bashfully, as I negotiated late night traffic.

“Um…” Did I? My mind flashed back to that moment she pulled out…to be honest I had been so caught up in the intensity of the experience and my pleasure in her orgasms that I hadn’t given any thought to my own…or the lack thereof “I’m not sure. What did you like the most?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“The anal” she checked my face for reaction.

“I liked that too.” My face flushed at the memory. “I was also…kinda surprised at the difference it made without the condom-I mean I know it’s all rubber but it’s –” I got flustered.

“More intimate?”

“Yeah…I felt more connected.”

“That’s why I wanted to do it–I understand why you wanted the condom but–” She shrugged, and I focused on cursing out crazy late night drivers.

“You wanna do it again?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”I wondered if she’d let me buy my own dick for round two?

“Yes!” she pumped her fist towards herself victoriously.

***

“So, I know you’re white–but are you one of those ‘natural women’?” DB asked as I pulled up at her Grandma’s house.

I knew what she meant–“natural” black women are those beautiful proud women black women who rock natural hair, debate politics and often advocate for education,  healthy food, natural medicine and black pride–woman pride–human pride! Human rights. Respect. Self respect…

So, a mentality close to my heart.

“I’m sorry–it looks like that question upset you.”

“No, it’s ok.” I responded. There was nothing I wanted more than to say ‘yes, that’s what I am!’ —

But could I really rep #TeamNatural while wearing a wig?

OMG I Soo Don’t Even Talk Like That!

So, not to sound racist, but this is so fucking funny, watching her, it’s almost like she’s not black! She’s kinda cute for a white girl. She could get it!

To see more of Chesca Leigh’s videos, go here. I know I am!

Upstairs (Meet DB Pt 3)

Start the night.

light brown femme and a dark brown person cuddling

Up three flights of poorly lit, dark-paneled stairs, the room was bare and cold. A double mattress sat wearing only a sheet in one corner of the room. One orange clog sat forlornly in the middle of the floor while it’s mate rested in the open closet. A tattered curtain moved desultorily in the window.

I went to close the window as DB tried the television, but despite the cable remote on the bed, all she could pick up was static.

DB stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, scowling at the accommodations.

“We don’t have to do this, you know…”

“it’s okay.” I smiled, leaning back invitingly. “Come here.”

She came into my arms, thick body heating me instantly so I had to take off my coat!

We tussled for a few, then she excused herself for a minute. I stretched back in the bed and took some puffs off my chillem.

To Be Continued…

The next post will be password protected, so email me at bigmama2x @live.com or mention/DM me @JustanothaWW to get the password!

Say What Now? (Meet DB Pt 2)

Start the night here.

20111229-101157.jpg

In this post I violate Rule #1. Don’t try this at home kids!

Sitting there in the car in the dark, DB told me there were some words she wanted me to say.

“You want me to do what?” I responded, grimacing distastefully.

“I want you to say it.”

“Um, ok…” I leaned forward, admiring her tight fade and the contrast of her diamond earring against the smooth dark curve of her neck, inhaling her warmth as I hesitantly whispered the words she had asked for in her ear, barely pushing the words out;

“Give me that big nigga dick daddy.”

I leaned back in my seat, searching her eyes for a reaction.

“How did that feel?” She asked me.

“Um,” I made a face “It went against everything I believe in. Did you like it?”

“No,” she considered, “I didn’t have to work hard enough for it.”

I was relieved, frankly. Yes I’m usually attracted to black women, but I think it’s because they’re beautiful, and maybe because of early childhood conditioning, not out of some perverse racist desire to violate taboos.

“That word does get in my head though, from twitter and friends.” I confided.

“Like, how’d you mean?” She asked, leaning back casually in her seat.

“Like, I’ll think to myself…I haven’t talked to my Dad in a while–I should call that nigga!”

She threw her head back and laughed.

Just then her sister got home…

Ask A White Girl

Ask a White Girl

Note...That's KD Lang in the Pic--Not Me!

I have another guest post! What can I say, I get around! Actually, this one may be semi regular…so go ahead and hop over to Dinmag.com and check it out! (Also check out the rest of the Mag–it is definitely worth getting the password to read the Juicier bits!)

Got any questions for a white girl? Ask!

Let’s Lose Caucasian

Lithograph of 8 variations of "Caucasions"

Dead sexy!

I cringe inside every time someone calls me Caucasian.

Why?

First of all, because it implies heritage in the Caucacus Mountain area, and although my ancestors were a bunch of wandering bastards, to my knowledge none of them lived in that vicinity….

But more importantly, because of the man who coined the word. Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, a German scientist and classical anthropologist. He was influential among racial theorists of his time for dividing people into five different races:

He named white people Causasians because:

I have taken the name of this variety from Mount Caucasus, both because its neighborhood, and especially its southern slope, produces the most beautiful race of men, I mean the Georgian; and because all physiological reasons converge to this, that in that region, if anywhere, it seems we ought with the greatest probability to place the autochthones (birth place) of mankind.[6]

Was he smoking crack? Ok, crack wasn’t invented then, he was probably hitting the laudanum a little too hard!

Anyways, Blumenbach was a major influence on Hitler and US segregationists.

I can’t hear the word Caucasian without linking it to it’s legacy of bigotry and hatred.

I don’t get mad when people call me that, because most people don’t know any better, but I hope we can all educate ourselves and do better!

Let’s lose Caucasian!

Sporty Dykes

A goofy sporty dyke lifts her shirt

I was recently asked me to write about the differences between Doms/Studs in the POC and Butches in the white lesbian community for Din Mag but I’m finding it surprisingly difficult. I should be in a good position to write such an article, seeing as I’m a white, stud-appreciating femme who moves between the two communities–but–I don’t know–it’s hard to feel like I can give a fair accounting accounting of both groups.

Because, you see, I’m biased. I like black women. I feel more at home with and drawn to lesbians of color than to “my own” (Even with the evil looks some black women give me when I’m the only white girl in the club)

I can’t stand being at many white dominated clubs: the plaid, the greasy hair, the sour smell, the rhythmless dancing and off-key Melissa Etheridge covers. Ugh!

Which doesn’t mean I don’t like white butches. I like dapper butches who smell good and wear dress shirts and ties. (Not all the time, but if you’re going out, why not dress up?)

What I don’t like/cannot get down with are “sporty dykes”  (And no, playing sports is not what makes a lesbian “sporty” there are butches and studs who play sports but don’t read as sporty. Don’t ask me to explain it.)

They’re  always drunk and in a pack at the club,  with their jeans and  t-shirts, greasy hair and ball caps–randomly wrestling, grinding off-tempo in lines,  or spilling drinks all over the dance floor.

Ugh! There is nothing more depressing than looking out at a room full of lesbians and not being attracted to ANY OF THEM!

Nothing personal, they’re just no more attractive than most men to me. And they don’t seem to know what to do with me either, in my fancy femme club clothes–unless I’m dressed butch!

On a recent adventure out as a butch I was pulled into a line dance with six or so sloppy sporty dykes gyrating off-tempo.

I went with it bemusedly until I just couldn’t take the lack of rhythm any longer! I was kind of shocked. These kind of women never looked twice at me before, but just because I’m wearing a wife beater and suspenders I’m now one of them?

I don’t know. I feel like an asshole for writing this. For all sporty women dominate certain clubs (cough, Queereoke), they’re only a subset of the white lesbian scene. I know lots of white LBTQ’s who I quite like, and am even sometimes attracted to. And it’s nothing personal against them, just, ah, not my scene.

I want to write something for Din Mag that helps bridge the gaps between the races, not just bashes the white lesbian community!

And I will. I just had to get that off of my chest first.