I Want to Catch You Everytime You Fall- Love Letter #14

2015/01/img_0629.jpgDear Future Wife,

On this Valentine’s eve I just want to say good morning, I know it’s early but I couldn’t really sleep last night. I’ve read so much about Valentine’s Day this week and about whether or not it’s relevant to a relationships interest. I can’t speak for anyone but myself but I love the idea of celebrating love. I love the idea of celebrating anything.

This is the thing, I’m the sort of man that takes pride in making my woman fall every chance I get. You get a two dollar raise at work and call me at lunch, we’re going to dinner that night. You get an A on a test I know you’ve been studying hard for, I’m buying you a cupcake with a candle just so you can make a wish that you make an A on the next test. Love isn’t perfect and it’s unique to every situation but one thing that love is; love cares more about us than it does them. Maybe Valentine’s Day is commercial and exploits the loneliest of us. I can see that but maybe it also brings out the lover in the best of us.

I will stumble and fall, I’m still learning to love, still learning to be the man I know I can be. The same way I’m willing to catch you when you fall and give you the world is the same way I’d hope you never give up on me. I have no desire to say goodbye. No desire to pretend that I’m this cool guy that doesn’t care or is excited at the thought of not spending any money on February 14, 2015. I’d rather be spending tonight watching scary movies, grocery shopping so we can eat a dinner we prepared together and wake up seeing your face. A day to celebrate love, I’m here for that.

There’s no desire in me to try and convince anyone that they should buy flowers and candles and cuddle naked eating candy. No, that’s on each individual relationship. All I’d like for you to know is that when our day comes, when you and I are best friends and nothing or no one else matters in those moments we’re laughing and looking into each other’s eyes just know days like today and tomorrow when you’re not here are going to make me appreciate you that much more.

Love Always and Forever,


10 Reasons Why I Believe I’m Falling In Love With You

Common-Romantic-Regrets One- I check your Facebook every day. Not really to see who you’re talking to or what guys are saying but just to look at pictures, to see your face. I like seeing your face, seeing your smile.

Two- When you call my entire personality changes. I smile more, I don’t get out the truck, I blow off work for twenty minutes, your voice makes me realize just how much nothing matters more than talking to your pretty ass.

Three- I love your ambition, I find myself talking about you to strangers just because you’re you.

Four- I could care less about having sex with you, our conversations are enough. The way you stimulate my mind means more than any woman has ever done to me physically.

Five- When I write it’s you I see.

Six- The things that make me ignore most women, complaining, whining, crying, all those things bring me closer to you. They make me want to spend more time with you.

Seven- I watch you sleep, not in a creepy way or Silence of the Lambs way but just in a way that brings me comfort. I wonder what you’re dreaming about. I like pulling you close and having you sink your body into mines.

Eight- I have a feeling that when you’re completely into me the amount of freaky and sexy in you will turn me out. It will change my life.

Nine- I love your simplistic beauty.

Ten- Loyalty. To your friends, to your family, to me. Even though we haven’t known each other for long I love how you’re willing to have my back. I love how you talk to me and see me in a way that makes me feel like you care. I know you care. I’m falling in love with you and I don’t care who knows it.

Five Steps to Forever

I feel youStep One- When You Least Expect It

(Her Words) They always say it will happen when you least expect it. My mother always told me that when I became solely focused on bettering myself and my situation, is when the proverbial “He” would walk in. But honestly before I met my “He”, I never thought that this approach would work for me.

(His Words) No matter how many conversations I have or how many women I date the same feelings always arise. Is she the one for me? Can I make her happy? Can I spend forever with her? I had a conversation with my grandfather once where he told me, “Don’t ever trip over one woman because there are too many out there for that.” For so long I lived by that until I realized that approach wouldn’t work for me. It wouldn’t work for me because one woman is all I’ve ever needed.

Step Two- The Unexpected Date

(Her Words) Every woman likes the anticipation and excitement of the first date. The choosing of the outfit and the fretting over the hair and makeup are oftentimes better than the date itself. Women tend to build up the whole evening in our minds. We imagine that he will show up with flowers, have the whole evening planned to suit our specific tastes, and be the perfect gentleman. However, when our prince reverts to a frog, the excitement quickly turns to disappointment.

I have heard that friends make the best lovers. It can be hard to imagine but now I understand. How do you transition from telling him about all of your man problems and woes, to him being the source of them?

(His Words) It wasn’t supposed to be a date. There were supposed to be fifteen people there but when I arrived it was just her. Just her smile, just her hair, just her eyes. I can’t say I was nervous or scared or anything but comfortable. This wasn’t supposed to be a date but how could it not feel like one with me being with the most beautiful woman in the room. She was funny, charming, soft, polite, she even bought my movie ticket. It wasn’t supposed to be a date but five hours later, a bottle of wine and countless smiles and laughs it was the best date of my life.

Step Three- Falling in the Moment

(Her Words) The ultimate sign that you are on the right path is when you experience what I like to call flow and what the Buddhist call Nirvana. When you experience it once, you will go to great lengths to recapture that feeling. Work and familial duties are neglected, an unwise lack of sleep becomes appealing, and you start receiving worried texts from your friends. Messages of concern and welfare checks replace happy hour and girls night invitations.

(His Words) One text turns into one conversation, one conversation turns into four hours of conversation. It’s 4am and you realize you still don’t want to get off the phone. It’s 4am and you realize it’s been a decade since you’ve talked to a woman for this long. No matter how much you yawn or look at the time you don’t want to be anywhere else but in that moment with her. That moment is me falling and falling feels like the best uncertainty in the world.

Step Four- The Heart Wants What It Wants

(Her Words) When it’s right, you know. The superficial list of what you thought you wanted and what you thought you needed becomes like a seed that blows away in the wind. When your heart meets its complement, you know. You feel so comfortable that spending time together becomes second nature. It feels good. It feels natural. It fits you. It suddenly and unexpectedly takes root and there is no turning back.

(His Words) “I hate to see you cry but I love to see her smile.” Andre 3000 said something like that and I can’t agree with him more. Canceling plans to be with her, ignoring calls to be with her, sitting at home writing and reading because when you’re falling no woman compares to the woman that has set up shop in your heart and taken a hold of everything you are. No matter how hard you try to rationalize that it’s too soon, that it’s too early to have these feeling, your heart wants what it wants and once that happens it’s no turning back.

Step Five- Déjà vu

(Her Words) They say that Déjà vu exists as a sign to show you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, experiencing exactly what you are supposed to be experiencing, with exactly who you are supposed to be experiencing it with.

(His Words) Have I been here before? When I’m with her it reminds me of my dreams, it reminds me of my desires. It reminds me of moments that feel like the best times of my life. Kiss me under the light of a 1000 stars, the moon shining bright, her eyes sucking me in as though a meteor is bearing down on me. This feels like Déjà vu because this feels like the beginning steps to forever.

Losing You Made Me Better For Her

There are mornings I wake up and I see you in front of me wrapped in a towel fresh out the shower.

There are mornings I’m cooking breakfast when I get off work and I want to come in the bedroom, kiss you on your cheek and tell you to come eat before it gets cold.

I miss you or maybe I miss the things we did or maybe I miss the way you made me feel or maybe I just miss having someone.

Writing in the morning I have visions of you sneaking up behind me, pushing my chair back, moving my laptop and sitting on the edge of my desk. Your robe parted, my hands cold so your thighs shivering at my touch.

Your scent natural and unique, your skin soft and inviting. Most mornings I don’t even miss sex, I just miss kissing your stomach and lying there, feeling your warmth. Being consumed by the storm your presence brought to my life. I needed to lose that storm, I needed to fall into abyss to realize what I had. I won’t mess up next time, I know this in my heart, in the depths of my soul.

Maybe it’s not fair but the next woman won’t have to deal with the mood swings, the insecurities, the fear of failure and regret I wore like a backpack full of bricks. Your smile was so perfect, your laugh, your lips. I don’t miss kissing you, I miss that moment right before a kiss when you know it’s coming and your heart beats just a little bit faster. The next her will feel my presence in everything she does because I’ll make myself so memorable and honorable that her heart will beat for me like it has never beaten for another man. I owe that to my failure with you.

I won’t take her for granted when she tells me she just needs to feel like we’re progressing. I won’t turn to readers and alcohol and groupies when she’s too tired or working or needs her space. I’ll be everything to her that I wasn’t to you because I don’t ever want to see hate in another woman’s eyes that’s because of me. I want her tears to come from orgasms she can’t control and joy she can’t hide. Not heartbreak and fear and rage. We will fight over the remote, not because I didn’t come home.

Do I have regrets? Everyday and everyday I’m learning to move on from those regrets. There’s a part of me that’s still closed off and that scares me because I want to give my all. The all I didn’t give to you. You made me better and I just want to thank you for that. I still check up on you from time to time. I may not call or text but know I’m watching, I’m here, if you ever need anything.

~ 20140822-233539.jpgDemez


dress-naked.jpgI honestly don’t know which I enjoy more. Taking a woman’s clothes off or watching her put them back on. I know it’s a Sunday and I hope the Lord forgives me for these explicit thoughts that are in my mind but for some reason I can’t stop thinking about sex.

This could be a product of our oversexed society or this could be a product of me not being inside of a woman for awhile but either way these thoughts are driving me crazy. So instead of going thru my phone and making a call I shouldn’t or watching porn I’ll write about it.

Lying in bed, my back against the headboard, music playing. The ceiling fan blowing what feels like hot hair because I can’t get my heart beat to slow down. Watching a woman stand there naked, not really sweaty but not really dry if that makes sense. A glow on her face, stepping inside of her panties or putting them in her purse. The curvature of her ass and hips befitting of the moment, hard nipples that haven’t realized the pleasure has come to an end.

Flash backs of the intense and nasty moments playing in my mind as she tries her best to fix her hair. Me trying my best not to pull her back on the bed and do what both our bodies are screaming for us to do. There’s not a thin line between desire and patience, the line is thick and welcoming. Once the flood gates to desire open there’s not really any turning back. I’ve written this a dozen times, sex was made for marriage because there is nothing on this earth more powerful. No feeling draws you in as deep as the feeling of wantfulness.

How Does It Feel?

1 hot sex I knew she was mad at me, I knew she was trying to prove a point. We were both prideful and stubborn and mean when we wanted to be. I fired the first shot by telling her I was taking someone else to the concert since she didn’t know if she would be back in town in time. It was petty, I could have waited but I needed her to know that my life didn’t revolve around her.

“Who are you taking then?” Was the text she sent me five minutes after she hung up in my face; The truth was I had no idea who I was taking but sometimes the less you say, the bigger the statement.

“I’m taking a friend. I’ll see you Monday.”

I was expecting a smart comeback or a couple curse words, a couple of threats but nothing. Finding a date wasn’t hard when you have concert tickets to Babyface and reservations to a 4 star restaurant, it was finding a date that looked as good or better than the woman you were dating. At 30 I was probably too old to be playing these games but if she was forcing me to play I may as well play to win.

Setting it all up, apologizing for calling her so late and trying to convince her she wasn’t short notice, she agreed. Not knowing she was a pawn in a cat and mouse game, backing out my driveway my phone vibrated several times in a row.

Curiosity got the best of me so I picked it up to the FB notifications and realized I’d been tagged in several pictures of her in Vegas. Most of them were with her girls and then there were the three with her and a guy. Sitting by the pool, sitting at the craps table, a group picture at dinner.

“I guess you’re not the only one that can have friends and guess what, he’s from Houston too.”

That’s what her text read as I was knocking on my new date’s door. Whatever childish ambitions I had of making her jealous backfired on me and now I could barely think straight. Rushing thru dinner, ignoring my date thru most of the concert, trying my best to not look at my phone or call and go off. I told her we needed to leave early so we wouldn’t be stuck in the parking garage for an hour and she liked me so she didn’t question it.

A part of me felt sorry for the way I was treating her, I tried to justify that I paid for dinner and kept asking her if she needed anything but there was no justification for the distance and silence. As soon as she walked into her apartment and I knew she was safe I started to drive towards Kats blowing her phone up.

“Who was the guy in the picture?”

“Did you know him before you went to Vegas?

“Did you fuck him in Vegas?!”

The more questions I asked myself the angrier I got. The angrier I got the faster I drove, especially since she wasn’t answering my phone calls. Usually you couldn’t get into her complex without someone buzzing you in but the security guard at the gate knew my face so he just waved me in. Not even bothering to park on the 5th floor to avoid getting towed I parked on her floor and walked to her door with a purpose!

I started to bang on the door but realized where she lived and thought better of making a scene so I knocked lightly. My watch said midnight but I knew she was up because she was still posting pics on Instagram.

“Who is it?” Came from behind the door even though I knew she was looking thru the peephole.

“Open the damn door Kat!” I was trying to be cool about it but even hearing her voice had me hot!

“I don’t usually have visitors this time of night, can you come back tomorrow.” Her tone was extra icy but I knew her and I knew she wanted me to beg. That was our relationship, it was about power. One of us was always fighting to have the upper hand. On most days I would have left not feeling like playing the game but tonight I needed answers.

“I’m sorry for coming over so late, can you please open up so we can talk?”

She opened the door in one of my t-shirts that barely covered her panties. The apartment was dark except for the TV that was on mute and the candles burning. Her iPad and iPhone were sitting on the couch next to a blanket.

“Who the hell is the guy in the picture?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door.

“Who is the bitch you took to see Babyface tonight?! And don’t come in my house questioning me!”

I took a deep breath and poked her in the head with my finger, “Who is the guy in the fucking pictures?!”

Before I could duck she slapped me and started to swing, grabbing her arms and pinning her against the wall she couldn’t move but kept trying to knee me. Her chest was heaving up and down, she started to cry but wouldn’t stop trying to kick me. I’d hurt her feelings and she’d hurt mine and now here we were at midnight putting our hands on each other. “I’m sorry I took someone else to the concert okay.” I don’t know what made me apologize, maybe it was the tears in her eyes or the guilt or the fear of her being with another man.

“Fuck you, if you let me go I’m going to stab you. I hate you!” Holding her wrist with my left hand, I put my right hand under her shirt and rubbed her nipples before I kissed her, she bit my lip. She wasn’t trying to get loose, she was still cursing me but her body was reacting to me. Letting her go and falling to my knees and put her leg over my shoulder and kissed her thru her panties, I bit her thru her panties, I licked her thru her panties. She was soaking thru them, “just take them off, I still hate you!” Her arms were still high above her head and her shirt sat above her breasts. “I didn’t fuck him, I didn’t even give him my number but I should have! You better start acting right or I swear I’m going to let another man taste this pussy!”

Pulling the panties to the side I stopped playing with it and started apologizing properly. She was using my ears to guide me, the wetter she got the more she cursed me, the more she told me she loved me. Ten minutes ago I thought I was going to break up with her, now I couldn’t remember what I would do without her. Standing up, ripping off her panties, she wrapped her legs around me and I went inside of her.

“I won’t fuck up again baby! I promise! I promise! I’d kill you and him if another man touches this!”

“Don’t give another man a chance to touch this then…” She could barely talk for her moaning but I could hear every word she was saying clearly. Standing straight up I was trying to plant a flag inside of her!

“Cum in me baby! Cum in me!” It was first time she’d ever said the words to me and we’d had plenty of drunk sex and intense sex. The words weren’t lost on me.

My Girl Has A Girlfriend…

“We’re not doing this in our bed. Don’t think too hard, don’t call me. Just meet me at the Magnolia Hotel, the front desk will tell you what suite.”

The note was pinned to the refrigerator. Written in red lipstick on pink paper. I read it three more times to get some clarity but the more I read it the more my mind was going crazy.

“We’re not doing this in our bed?” Was it syrup or whipped cream? Was it going to get that messy?

A quick shower, traded in my steel toe boots and polo shirt for a light sweater and slacks. Don’t call, don’t text is what she wrote. She wanted me to lose my mind thinking, she wanted me to be surprised.

Valeting my truck, ignoring the increasing thunderstorm falling down I walked in the lobby. Told the man behind the counter my name and he smiled and told me the suite was on the 5th floor. It was the only one on that floor so I couldn’t miss it.

For whatever reason his smile had me wondering what he’d seen that had him giggling.

Knocking on the door, smoothing out the cashmere, I stepped back from the door when a woman that wasn’t my wife opened the door.

“I’m sorry. I must have the wrong room.”

She laughed and reached for my hand, “You don’t remember me do you? We met at Whitney’s graduation party and we’re FB friends. You have the right room.” I let her take my hand.

“We’re not doing this in our bed.” The words made sense now. The woman in front of me who’s name I still couldn’t remember was gorgeous. A short hair cut, toned body, full breasts. She wasn’t naked but I could tell she wasn’t wearing much under the short silk robe. And from the two bottles of empty wine on the table I could tell she was tipsy.

“Where’s Whit?”

“She’s went downstairs for a massage. She wanted us to talk first, she wanted to make sure you like me. Said you may not feel comfortable?”

“I am a little surprised but I’m not uncomfortable. Did you and my wife do things like this before we were married?”

She sat on the bed and sat Indian style, she definitely wasn’t wearing anything under the robe.

“Your wife has always been the life of the party and the leader in the room. Me and Whit have had some adventures. After school I put up my laptop, cell and traveled the world. Half my family thought I was dead, I got back and found out Whit was yours and not mines anymore. I’m your wife’s ex- girlfriend and she brought me here today to give her husband an early Christmas gift.”

She stood up from the bed and let the robe fall to the floor. Like it was all planned or just perfect timing my wife walked thru the door and kissed me on the lips. Stepping out of her tank and sweats she pulled the woman close and kissed her like I’d only ever seen her kiss me. Turning her around, standing behind her I watched as she traced her body and and sucked her neck. She was in complete control. Don’t just stand there husband, she’s your too tonight.

To Be Continued…

Taking Another Man’s Wife Act II

“Are you fucking her?”

“Excuse me.”

“You heard me, are you fucking her!”

“That’s not any of your business, you have a husband. Worry about who he’s fucking.”

“I don’t have to worry about who he’s fucking, I gave him some this morning so he’s good.”

That was two hours ago, he hung up right after that and she’d been calling ever since. The last time he looked at his phone it was twenty missed calls. She only said it to hurt him; he knew that much, but what he also knew is that she was probably telling the truth.

What kind of right did he have to get mad at a woman for having sex with her husband? That was just as stupid as her getting mad at a woman posting about how good a time she’d had on his Facebook wall. The text started ten minutes after she’d wrote, “I had a great time last night, can’t wait to do it again.” The calls started five minutes after he responded, “The feelings mutual, you looked amazing last night, I needed that.” Nothing sexual happened, it just felt good to him being able to hold a conversation and kiss a woman good night knowing there was no one else in her life.

But she didn’t see it that way. Call it jealousy, call it insecurity, call it crazy. She just didn’t understand why he needed to go out with other women!

He wanted to turn his phone off but his grandfather was in the hospital and in case someone needed him he needed to have his phone on. She’d long ago filled his voicemail up, the messages went from, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” to “fuck you, if you can’t answer me, I’ll just call my husband to come home early from work.” Every insult was followed by an apology, every hateful word was followed by a lustful counter.

Washing his truck, the headphones drowning out everything around him he jumped when he felt the cold water hit his back. Turning around she was standing there holding the water hose. He started walking towards her when he saw the little boy in the car seat in the back; he looked just like his father. She sprayed him with the water hose again, this time in the face. He walked over and snatched it out her hand. “You can’t answer your fucking phone!” She said, loud enough for her son to hear though at his age he wasn’t sure if the boy understood his mom was a damn fool.

“What are you doing here? You have a bad habit of stopping by uninvited.”

She stepped closer, “You didn’t have a problem with me coming by uninvited when you were inside of me last night.” “You shouldn’t have brought his son over here like this,” he didn’t want to stare at the child but he couldn’t help feel guilty. “He’s a baby, he doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know his mother is over to her boyfriend’s house trying to apologize for being a bitch.” She tried to hug him but he stepped back. Kids had more sense than parents gave them credit for. “You need to leave.” He started back washing his car, he shouldn’t have turned his back to her. He didn’t know where it came from but as soon as he looked up the passenger side window on his truck shattered. Her baby was screaming in the back seat but she didn’t drop the tire iron that was in her hand. “I swear to God if you see that bitch again or ignore me the next time it won’t be your window I aim for.” She got in her car and calmly pulled off.

Chocolate Dreams and Nightmares

The lights off, the fan spinning overhead, the tress speaking outside my window. I can taste the chocolate on your skin. The wetness of it, the sweet flavor, the stickiness on the tip of my tongue, it’s all I taste.

The chill bumps on your thighs from the cold strawberries, the way you giggle when the juices fall in-between the crack of your ass. The way you suck the whipped cream off your finger showing me a prelude of things to come. You love putting on a show, you love performing. Sliding your tongue across your lips, the dark syrup dripping down your chin, you love it when I watch. “Lick it off” you tell me, “Don’t be scared” you say as you trace a chocolate trail for me to follow from your collarbone to your bellybutton to the spot no one gets to see but me.

Touching you feels amazing.

Your skin is soft and vibrant, moist and lickable.

You eyes are warm and flirty, there’s sexiness, love and nastiness in those eyes all at the same time.

Your body is a portrait, a canvas and my tongue and fingers are the paint brush. Sticking two fingers in the bowl of syrup I trace a circle around your most sensitive button. When I touch it you moan, when I flick it your legs open wider, when I lick it you scream my name as if I’m the only man that has ever brought you this sort of pleasure.




You cum hard. Really hard! You pull me until I’m on my back, your lips wrapped around by. The syrup in the palm of your hand, your hand wrapped around my nature. Once the chocolate is soaked in, you treat it like it’s an ice cream cone.

One long lick up the cone.

One long lick down the cone.

Our eyes never close, I never stop watching you bring me pleasure. You keep me on the verge of cumming but with every stroke you know my limits. I see in your eyes you enjoy teasing me, enjoy sucking me. You have no intentions of making me cum, you just love the game.

Pulling myself out of your mouth, I kiss you deeply! You lick some syrup off my cheek and sit down.

I wake up… I wake up… You’re not here.

The ceiling fan is blowing, the trees are talking but there’s no syrup, no you. Just dreams and nightmares.

Angelic Nastiness

We’ve all heard of ‘A lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets,’ but I don’t think people realize just how meaningful this saying is. As men we’re conditioned to be leaders, providers, strong in the face of adversity. And for most men the only piece of mind they’ll get will be when he’s with his woman.

For all of my romanticisms about women. The pretty skin and thick hair, the perfect accessories and ladylike diction when she speaks, at the core of what I want most is an Angelic Nastiness. A subtle sexual energy that invades my senses whenever I hear from her or see her. It’s the idea that her ladylike tendencies perfectly balance out with her bedroom desires.

Do you know why I write about women so much? Why men write so many love songs? Why CEO’s are willing to marry women with no prenups and risk half of fortunes?

It’s because at the essence of what makes us great is the freaky shit women do. As much as we love you for the children and support and love and care. We love you just as much for the kissing, sucking, swallowing and riding.
Trading in your slacks, heels and blouse for my t-shirt and jolly ranchers of the floor of my office.

Angelic Nastiness is perfection in motion.