He Tried to Domesticate You; I Just Want to Liberate You

my wifeThere are times I have these nights where I want to be incredibly honest. I think tonight is one of those nights. Look, every man want s a woman he’s proud to call his own. A woman that’s kind and gentle and has qualities that will make her a good wife and a great mother. What we don’t like to admit though is that not every woman is meant to be those things. Some women are just meant to be wild.

Men are jealous by nature, we’re selfish by nature. Even the most understanding of us feel a certain way about other men talking to the women we love. The thing is though, not every woman is meant to be domesticated. Not every woman is meant to be meek. He wants that, he needs that. I can respect that. That isn’t you though. You’re a freak. You like sex in the car, you like biting and scratching and fighting. You need that passion and emotion and those moments when you can run wild without feeling guilty. He can’t see that, I can.

Maybe one day you’ll be ready to settle down and be the woman he wants. I don’t see today being that day.

Why Do You Love Me?

Love-sex-and-sexuality-30837383-500-332.jpg“Have you ever loved anyone as much as you love me?”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a man that has loved a woman as much as I love you.”

“Why do you love me?”

It was a simple question, a five word question that required a lot more than five words. Her lying on my chest, naked, dried sweat and the smell of sex in the air I could have said. “I love you because I have never met a woman that turned me on more than you.” But that didn’t do my love justice.

Feeling the scratches on my back, the bite marks on my neck, and the soreness in my thighs. I could have said, “I love you because I have never met anyone as passionate as you, as sexually aggressive as you are, someone that could match my intensity. Look back at me, bite her lips and smile.” But that didn’t do my love justice.

Closing my eyes and imagining creating a life with her, seeing a little boy or girl that looked just like her or had her mannerisms. Her smile, her laugh, her traits, her eyebrows. Seeing a future past our naked bodies in this bed, wanting to live in this bed, not sexually. But live in this moment, her warm body on mines, her essence and my essence one in the early hours before the Sun rises on a Sunday. No music playing, no television on, just her waiting for me to answer the question, “Why do you love me?” And me saying, “I love you because God created you and I for exactly this moment.”

She turned over, her breast pressed against my chest, her chin on my collarbone. “Sometimes I don’t know when to take you serious. I wonder are all these perfect words and moments you or the writer? I feel stupid for questioning something that feels so right but I am waiting on you to stop saying and doing all the right things because what scares me is that I’ve already started to expect it. And when you expect a man to be perfect, I won’t be able to forgive you if you let me down.”

Sincerity in her eyes, conviction in her words, emotion in her thoughts. I wanted to tell her that she was crazy, that she shouldn’t question my love, that she’d never have to worry about me hurting her or letting her down. But is that a promise you can make someone? Because no matter how good you are, no matter how good your intentions. There’s going to be a moment where you fall, where you fail, where you come up short and when you project perfect can you even blame someone for feeling like you dropped them from the moon?

“I’m afraid of losing you. That’s why all my words sound so perfect and why my actions match. I’m afraid and that’s why I treat you like you’re a prize, like you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Because you are. I can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you but I will promise it will never be intentional and that as long as I’m living you’ll be safe and loved and provided for if you need that or want that.”

“I’m changing. I’ve stopped hanging out with my friends, my mom blows my phone up because I’m talking to you every morning instead of her. I’m excited about our dinners and talks and sex. I don’t want to be the woman that’s ignoring the life she had because of a man but that’s who I’ve become and I don’t feel bad about it because you’re a hell of a man. Just don’t make me regret it baby, I’d hate to stab you.”

I laughed, she didn’t, she didn’t even blink.

“I’m serious. When you love someone or anything as much as I love you it has the ability to hurt you. I’ve loved one man the way I love you and that was my father, her left us when I was twelve and started a new family. When I would go visit I felt like I was watching another man, he looked at his wife and children the way he used to look at me and mom. I hated him for that. Don’t be this man I put my faith in and then let me down. If this isn’t you, let me know now, but if it is…”

Wiping her tears, pulling her on top of me, her face in the crook of my neck. Her body shaking from emotion there was nothing I could say. Holding her, caressing her, feeling her heart beat. That was enough to let her know I wasn’t going anywhere.

Her tears turned me on, my warmth turned her on. Rubbing her body on mine she place me inside of her. We were both sore but that didn’t stop us, feeling connected, feeling like this bed was our Kingdom.

“I love you because I don’t know how not to.”

What I Need…

Bite me.

When I walk through the door don’t talk, just kiss me.

Your lips, tongue, teeth, breath pressed against my neck.

My hands roaming your back, your ass, your ribs.

Pulling at your shirt, needing to feel the heat of your skin on my hands.

The biting is enough to hurt, but it hurts in such a good way.

I bite you back and you shiver, your nipples harden and the desire for your shorts to come off intensifies.


Kiss me.

Kiss me on my chest when I take off my shirt.

Let me feel the wetness of your tongue on my stomach when you fall to your knees.

Grab my hand and let me fingers feel the warmth of what’s inside.

Inside of your panties, your soul, your heart.

I want to feel it all.

I want to feel it all through your kiss.

We need to cum together from that kiss, from our kiss.


Dance with me.  

No music playing.

No band in the background.

Just me with my pants unzipped, my belt undone.

You with your bra on the floor, your shorts on the couch, your shirt on the TV.

Just your body pressed against mine in your panties, needing me to hold you.

Wanting me to hold you.

The intensity in us never wanting to let each other go.

Your heat, warmth, wetness giving me strength.


Kissing you.

Picking you up and sitting you on the arm of the couch.

Hearing your moan, your giggle from my lips on your thighs.

From my lips on your calves.

From my lips embracing your areola.

Pleasuring you arouses me to no end.

Knowing me being inside of you gives you life gives me life.


Bite Me

Kiss Me.

Dance With Me.

Want Me.

These are the morning thoughts of Demez F. White….