Wednesday Night Part 1: Green-Eyed Monster

Beautiful eye highlighted in green

I got to the club about halfway through the show. Scanning the room full of mature, well-dressed women of rainbow hues, I finally spotted my boo talking to a white, short-haired volluptuous femme in a cute black dress. (Damn I wanted that dress!)
Was that a faint guilty look in Noma’s eye as I approached?

I said hi to Noma, positioning myself between her and the femme. My boo was looking so fly in white sports jacket and tie against a crisp black shirt. I’ve never been a big fan of ties, (except for Bee Listy, she rocks the bow tie.) but now I’m starting to understand the appeal. She looked hot in that tie!

The femme started chatting gregariously with me, (re)introducing herself as Nancy. (I have a vague memory of meeting her at another event targeted towards black lesbians, which might have endeared her to me in other circumstances.)

Although I wanted nothing more than to say “back off bitch, this is my woman!” I attempted to return her conversation courteously, as:

A) Noma doubtless did not tell her we were together, seeing as she’s still unwilling to make any kind of commitment to me.

And B) She was probably a nice person, and under almost any other circumstances besides talking to my woman while wearing a sexier outfit than me I probably would have quite liked her.

Noma saved the day (or at least staved off a femme-fight) by offering me a drink, and we went to the bar.

Returning to the audience we watched a kick-ass drag queen throwing down some gospel, followed by a gorgeous poet doing some spoken word.

Nancy rejoined us in the middle of a particularly powerful piece to babble about how she needed to eat something. I restrained myself from telling her to get her (skinnier-than-my) ass some damn food already and detailing exactly what she could do with it.

Fortunately she left not too long after that, before my veneer of friendliness could wear thin.

“So I was telling Nancy that I’m really stepping out of my comfort zone, coming here.”  Noma confided.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, all my friends are white and into sports.”
“Well,” I said looking around the room at the multi-hued artistic types. “most of my friends are artists, or black, or both.”

I think that’s pretty normal, really. They do say opposites attract.

“$hawty” Soft Stud

That’s what I’m talking about…sexy, versatile…just, please, leave the grill at home honey!

Happy Mothers Day…

To Me!

Close up of black and white lips kissing

My and My Girl (Minus the Lipstick)

The best present a mother could get is really great sex. (From a really sexy non-related adult)

Especially really great sex which does not lead to children.

My favorite thing about being a lesbian would have to be: sex with women!

My Second favorite thing about being a lesbian is the fact that although I have mind-blowingly great sex, there is 0.0000% percent chance that it will result in pregancy. (I’m sorry, I know that this is something that some of my readers struggle with–but–having already procreated, it’s how I feal.)

I woke up this morning feeling so good, so satiated!

You see, last night I finally got to have some “quality time” with the soft stud Noma that I’ve been seeing. And by “quality time” I mean we fucked each other’s brains out! After a month and a half of broken or time-constrained dates, it was much needed! I really was feeling like every cell in my body was about to explode at any minute from unbearable horniness. And–I don’t know why-but masturbation only took the edge of.

Does everyone else feel that way? If so, how does society continue to function? I can’t believe I once went three years celibate!

Noma is so thick, so fine, so sexy! I love how aggressive she is in the bedroom. We actually broke the downstairs futon and had to move upstairs!

I also love how enthusiastically she receives. And female ejaculation? It’s real. I feel like such a Mack lol.

So, anyways, Happy Mother’s Day! I hope mothers everywhere got to wake up with that happy, healthy, just-got-laid glow!

Schoolgirl Crush

What is it about studs? How they can just be so damn attractive? Like the stud I used to see: she was eight inches shorter than me, wall-eyed, no ass, man-tits with nipples that looked like they had been chewed on by wild animals. But it didn’t even matter. There was just something about her, her energy…that just attracted me.

I feel the same way about this soft stud at a class I’m taking. Not that she’s ugly, just plain.  I noticed her right away when I walked in the door. Gazing around the room at a sea of brown-skinned men–and two-or-three women–she seemed like just the person I wanted to sit down next to. I’ve sat near or next to her in each of our few classes, but have yet to actually talk to her much. I think about her more than I should, have been entertaining fantasies far too explicit to have about someone you really don’t know.

What I know about her:

Her name is Lill. She’s thick, and older than me, maybe by as much as 10 years–there’s gray at the temples of her straightened hair, which she keeps pulled back in a neat pony tail. She has a fly leather jacket and knock-off Tims. She drives a blue pick-up truck and has well manicured longish finger nails.

I love quiet studs. There’s just a kind of very self-contained strength about her.

I love her smile. It’s such a shy, beautiful thing.  It lights up her face all the way to her eyes. During a lull in class one day I befriended the child of one of the women, showing her how to use a mouse and play games on PBS Kids. The girl was so cute she had the whole class chuckling. I kept peeping out the corner of my eye at Lill–catching glimpses of her smile. When we’re in class I feel like I’m always super conscious of her–like there’s an electic current between us. I have no idea what she thinks about me, if she thinks about me. Maybe she has a girl? What if I’m not Femme enough for her? Is she interested at all? How can I get her number without overtly asking her out? I don’t think to myself: what if she doesn’t like me because I’m white? That’s the kind of thinking that kept me from the women I was attracted to for too long.

It’s weird because tonight I sat between Lill and another women: a femme. Karen is something of knock-out with full lips and a moon-shaped face with high apple cheeks. She’s friendly and out-going, closer to my age and a world traveler. But it was Lill I couldn’t stop thinking about, even as I tried not to show anything of what I was feeling, or let it interfere with my participation in the class.

I keep telling myself “You’re here to learn. Not to meet women.”

But it is nice to have a schoolgirl crush again.