Are They Looking For Help or Falling In Love?

perfect love The difference between someone loving you and someone trying to escape the prison they’ve set up around their heart is barely visible to the human eye. As a matter of fact it could take years for you to actually realize that they were looking for help and not looking for love.

A lot of people associate looking for help with financial situations. They’re looking for someone to help pay bills or to get some money from but when someone is looking for help it can often be emotional help. When someone has been damaged or hurt often times all they need is a good person in their life to balance out all the heartbreak and lies they had to deal with before.

This isn’t always a bad thing but it isn’t always a good thing either. What happens is you become a glorified stop gap. Someone to heal them but does healing equate to loving?

It’s not necessarily a bad thing you know. Someone needing you to help them opposed to falling in love with you. We can’t dictate why people need us in their lives; all we can hope is their intentions are genuine.
There are plenty of people out here looking for help for all the wrong reasons and karma always comes back on those people.
~ Demez

Two Word Stories… Her Lips to My Soul

imagesCA4RUXG1Hold Me– Fresh out the shower, skin moist, towel wrapped around her petite frame. Sitting in my lap, her head in the crook of my neck, “Hold me,” are the two words that come from her lips. She’s shivering but the heat is on, she has goosbumps on her skin but her body is warm. Hold me means more than hold me, it’s a two word story that means protect me, that means keep me calm. Hold me is I don’t want you inside of me tonight; I just need us to connect tonight. Hold me is the most calming of the two word stories because it’s the most sincere.

Touch It- The lights red, the dinner was good, the concert was great, the company was even better. I can look in her eyes and tell she’s tipsy, I can look at her dress and tell she’s feeling sexy. Accelerating onto the highway, seventy miles an hour going south I can see her raise up off the seat. I feel the panties land in my lap, purple lace on my thigh. “Touch it,” she demands more than she asks. Taking off her seatbelt, raising up the consul, sliding over I can hear her body responding to my touch. My hand on her knee, my fingers tracing pelvis, touching everywhere but where she wants. “Touch it,” her voice grows more demanding. I go faster. “Touch it,” is the nastiest of the two word stories. It’s the beginning to the story, the starter to the ignition. “Touch it,” means I want you to do more than just touch it but for now…

Marry Me- Watching her barefoot on the hardwood floor, red panties and a white tank top. Dancing to the music, grilled salmon on the stove because she says I eat too much fried stuff. The dishwater steaming because she says her mother didn’t raise her to use a dishwasher. Perfect shape, French tips on her fingers but always a bold color on her feet; today it’s a Tiffany’s blue. Hair in a bun, lip gloss the only makeup she wears on days when we’re being lazy. Watching her be perfect without even trying to be perfect, her lotion and candles flowery and sweet replacing the smell of pine soil and pledge in my bachelor bad. In my mind I’ve thought of a hundred elaborate proposals. Everything from Italy in the winter to Napa in the spring. In front of our families at Christmas or in front of our friends at my next book signing. But watching her I know in my heart that no moment will be more perfect than right now because the coolest two word stories can’t be scripted, when you know… you just know. “Marry me…”  The ring box sitting in a crock pot on the counter because I know she’s too impatient to ever cook with it. Her smile bright, her eyes watery, her lips soft. Her answer is yes because this two word story can’t help but have a happy ending or I should say beginning.

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….